Category: English

I received an electricity bill for a villa I hadn’t visited in ages. Weird, right? So I drove over there. Pushing open the door, I found the place packed with my old college classmates! And right in the middle of the crowd, my fiancée was passionately making out with my arch-rival. Before I could even speak, my rival spotted me first. He had his arm around my fiancée, a sneer plastered across his face. “Liam, this isn’t a place for a nobody like you. Get lost!” My fiancée chimed in, equally annoyed. “Liam, seriously, stop hounding me. What we had was just a fling. A broke scrub like you could never be good enough for me.” I rolled my eyes, pulled out my phone, and dialed the police. “Hello, I’d like to report a break-in. Someone’s trespassing on private property.” The moment I pushed open the door, my college arch-rival, Brandon Pierce, had one hand gripping Chloe Davis’s butt, while they were locked in a passionate French kiss. Everyone froze when they saw me, then a wave of whispers swept through the room. “What’s Liam Caldwell doing here? Did anyone even invite him?” “I heard Liam was totally obsessed with Chloe back in college.” “He’s such a poor loser, how could he ever be worthy of Chloe?” “But wait, I heard Chloe was actually Liam’s fiancée?” … Honestly, I wasn’t supposed to be here at all. I’d booked a flight to go back home and see my parents, but just before I left, I got that utility bill. My first thought was some homeless person had broken in, so I decided to check it out. After all, this villa was supposed to be Chloe’s birthday gift, and it had only been renovated two months ago. I’d planned to tell her my real identity when I gave her the villa – that I wasn’t just some regular guy, but the heir to a multi-billion dollar empire. But who would’ve thought? She was cheating on me with another man in my villa, and that man was my arch-rival! Seeing my silence, Brandon aimed a spotlight at me, raising a microphone and shouting, “Liam, what are you doing crashing my party? I certainly didn’t invite you.” I frowned. “You didn’t, but this is my…” He cut me off before I could finish. Brandon sneered. “Since I didn’t invite you, how could you be so thick-skinned to show up at my place?! Or, after more than ten years, have you finally remembered to apologize to me?” Brandon and I were from two different worlds, but in our sophomore year, he came to me for help to pass an exam. He offered me five hundred bucks to help him cheat. The moment I took his money, I went straight to the professor and reported him. He got penalized by the school, and from then on, he became my sworn enemy, constantly trying to torment me. After graduation, we hadn’t had any contact. I shook my head. “Even if I had a hundred do-overs, I still wouldn’t help you cheat.” Though my words were firm, Brandon just thought I was being stubborn. “Don’t act so tough! I totally get people like you!” “Nerd! You thought you could make up for my family’s wealth by studying hard in school, only to realize once you entered the real world that even if you got into a prestigious university, you’d just end up as a lapdog for rich people like us.” “But, I won’t stoop to your level, you country bumpkin. Just kneel down, call me ‘Daddy,’ and lick my shoes clean, and I’ll forgive you.”

The crowd roared with laughter. These were the same people who used to follow Brandon around, bullying others in college. It was clear they hadn’t changed at all after graduation, only gotten worse. “They’re giving you a chance, why aren’t you taking it? One ‘Daddy’ could get you a lifetime of luxury!” “Why aren’t you on your knees licking his shoes and calling him ‘Daddy’ yet? This isn’t the time to be stupid, don’t do something you’ll regret again!” “Exactly, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Don’t let your pride make you forget why you’re here!” “Our Mr. Pierce doesn’t just let anyone in, you know. He’s clearly doing you a favor.” ….. I knew arguing with these kinds of people was pointless, so I stayed silent, fixing my gaze on Chloe. “I told you I wanted to take you to meet my parents, and you turned me down, saying you needed to spend the holidays with your family. So why are you here? Is Brandon your family now?” Brandon feigned surprise. “Oh, that’s why you’re at my place? Looking for the ‘goddess’ Chloe?” As he said this, Brandon hugged Chloe tighter, showing her off. “Honey, didn’t you say you were single and only loved me? Why is this broke scrub saying such things?” Chloe’s face had been dark ever since she saw me. Hearing Brandon’s question, she spat at me, then gritted her teeth and said, “God, you’re disgusting. Couldn’t you tell I was politely rejecting you? Did you really have to stalk me like this? I’d never be with a broke loser like you!” “I’ve been nice, for old times’ sake, not calling the police, not embarrassing you, but how can you be so incredibly self-absorbed? Why would I turn down Brandon to go see your parents who work construction?” “Let me tell you, Brandon is a thousand, a million times better than you. You’re not even worthy of the dirt on his shoes! This is my final warning: we are OVER. If you keep stalking me like a creep, don’t blame me for calling the police and having you arrested!” Brandon beamed, planting a kiss on Chloe. “That’s my girl! I love how you know what’s good for you!” Chloe didn’t look embarrassed at all. In fact, she looked relieved, as if she was afraid Brandon might misunderstand her relationship with me. I found it even more ridiculous. I’d thought my questions would make Chloe feel guilty, but I never imagined she’d belittle me like this, painting me as some twisted stalker. The image of the cool, aloof goddess she’d always presented to me shattered instantly. I felt ashamed that I’d fallen for a woman like this, wishing I could slap myself. Seeing my anger, Brandon found it even more amusing. He signaled to a few classmates, who immediately pushed and pulled me closer to him. Brandon put down the microphone and whispered in my ear, “Ever heard the saying, ‘Revenge is a dish best served cold’? You screwed me over and then just disappeared, leaving me to flunk and be ridiculed. You should’ve seen this day coming!” “I did this on purpose, you know. I knew you liked Chloe, that you were her simp, so I deliberately went after her. But she’s smarter than you; the moment she realized I was richer, she practically ripped off her clothes and jumped into my bed.” “I heard you and Chloe had a Platonic relationship? Never even slept together? Then you must have no idea how wild she is in bed, right?” I could tell Brandon wanted to provoke me into making a scene. Naturally, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I just smiled. “You know, I actually have to thank you. Thank you for helping me see Chloe, the gold digger, for who she really is.” “Because I was never Chloe’s simp, and I’m definitely not a stalker. She’s the one who’s been chasing me. It’s actually pretty funny, considering I even successfully proposed to her recently.”

At my words, the bustling party instantly fell silent. Everyone started whispering amongst themselves, but from their expressions, it didn’t look like they were talking about me being cheated on. More like they were calling Chloe two-faced and Brandon a fool for falling for her. Brandon hadn’t expected the truth to be this. He thought he was stealing my ‘goddess’ to teach me a lesson, but instead, he’d snatched himself a gold digger! “Chloe, what the hell is going on between you and Liam?” Brandon’s face was livid, and he shoved Chloe away from him. Chloe’s face went white with anger. She pulled out the large diamond ring I’d given her from her pocket, holding it up as she shouted, “Yes, that’s right! I was planning to marry you because I thought you were an honest guy.” “But I never imagined you’d be so pathetic, trying to trick me with a lab-grown diamond when you proposed! I can accept you being poor, but I can’t accept you being a liar!” “I was thinking the holidays were coming up, so I was going to break up with you after. But I never thought you’d stalk me here and ruin my reputation!” “Just because you lied to me, does that mean I have to keep being fooled?” I raised an eyebrow. “Who told you it was a lab-grown diamond?” Chloe scoffed. “Do I really need someone to tell me?” “This diamond is at least ten carats! How could a broke loser like you afford such an expensive ring to give me? Or can your construction worker parents afford it? If it’s not a lab-grown diamond, what is it, glass?” Chloe grew increasingly furious, flinging the large diamond ring onto the floor. Thankfully, the diamond was big and sparkly enough that it didn’t disappear completely. I was about to explain whether the diamond was real or fake, when a female classmate picked up the ring and spoke first. “I work in diamond sales! This is absolutely not a lab-grown diamond, this is a real South American diamond!!!” Chloe rolled her eyes, grabbing Brandon’s hand again, and said dismissively, “Don’t just make things up. Do you really think I don’t know if Liam can afford a diamond? ” “Do you think everyone is as rich as Brandon, able to buy a huge mansion just like that?” The female classmate seemed worried no one would believe her. Trembling, she put the ring in my hand and quickly continued, “Anyone who has me on SnapChat knows I sell jewelry. I can tell the difference between a real diamond and a lab-grown one with my eyes closed. I swear on my life, this is a genuine diamond.” Seeing the classmate speak so confidently about the diamond, Chloe’s face went white again. “But… but how is that possible? How could you have so much money to buy such an expensive diamond ring?” “You better explain yourself!” I didn’t really need to explain anything, but I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. “This diamond ring is…” Before I could finish, Brandon snatched the ring from my hand. “You stole it from me!” “I was wondering how you got into my house. Now I get it! You must have been one of the renovation workers! You stole a copy of my house key, took this huge diamond, and then gave it to Chloe!” As Brandon spoke, he slipped the diamond ring onto Chloe’s finger. “Chloe, I was mad at you for accepting his proposal. But now I realize, you must have sensed this ring was mine, and that’s why you said yes, for the sake of the ring, right?” Chloe, whether she truly believed him or was just playing along, immediately kissed Brandon, smiling and calling him, “Honey, yes, exactly! That’s it!” “It was fate.”

Although Brandon didn’t understand how I’d gotten the diamond ring, he was convinced I couldn’t afford such a large one, so he spoke without hesitation. “I was going to call the cops on you, but for old times’ sake, and since you helped me find such a great wife in Chloe, I’ll forgive you. Now get out!” Chloe chimed in, “Yeah, kick him out! Don’t let this garbage ruin our party!” I wanted to rip Brandon and Chloe’s mouths open, but seeing everyone in the room look at me with disdain, it wasn’t hard to imagine what would happen if I tried anything. With so many people, one slap from each of them could seriously injure me. So, I didn’t engage in a war of words. Instead, I swallowed my pride, lowered my head, and left the villa amidst their vicious, sickening laughter. Once outside, I immediately locked the gate, then stood to the side and called the police again. Since the villa wasn’t in the city center, the police couldn’t arrive immediately. Inside, people quickly realized the gate was locked and they couldn’t get out. They started yelling for me to open the door. Brandon, especially, was almost in tears. “Open the damn gate! I didn’t even press charges for you stealing, what right do you have to lock us in?” I smiled. “Stealing is a big deal, especially such a huge diamond ring. So, I proactively called the police to come and arrest me, the thief.” Hearing that I’d called the police, Brandon started slamming against the door frantically, trying to threaten and coax me. I wasn’t afraid of him; there was no way that gate could be forced open by human strength alone. Only when the police pulled up did I finally unlock it. Brandon’s legs nearly gave out when he saw the police, almost collapsing to his knees. Chloe, oblivious, snapped at me, “You’re so dead.” The officer turned on his body camera and asked sternly, “What’s going on here?” Seeing Brandon speechless, Chloe quickly stepped forward and pointed at me. “Officers, perfect timing! My boyfriend and I were just having a nice party in our villa!” “But this man first showed up uninvited and started harassing us!” “Then we discovered he’d stolen my boyfriend’s priceless diamond ring! After we caught him, he got embarrassed and ran out, but then he locked us all inside!” “I now have a very reasonable suspicion that he planned to set the whole place on fire and burn us all alive! So you need to arrest him immediately! People with anti-social personalities like him should be locked up, don’t you agree?” The classmates, who’d been locked in for a while and were fuming, immediately chimed in. “Yes, I can confirm, this guy is definitely bad news.” “He’s a thief, he stole Mr. Pierce’s ring from his house.” “That stolen ring could be worth tens of millions, bigger than a bird’s egg!” “Exactly, whoever called the police is a hero! They saved our lives!” The police officers were taken aback. With dozens of people present, if I really intended to commit arson, it would have been a hellish scene! One officer looked puzzled. “Wait, this dispatch says the call was for trespassing, not theft or arson.” Another officer nodded. He stepped forward and said loudly, “You’re all speaking too chaotically, I can’t understand. Who called the police? Please step forward and explain the situation clearly.” I cleared my throat and stepped out. “Officers, I called the police, and I locked the gate. But I didn’t lock it to set a fire. I locked it to prevent these trespassers from running away.”

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The call came just before the wedding, from our wedding planner Amy. Her voice buzzed with excitement. “Miss Seraphina, we’ve finished the edit of Mr. Blake Harrison’s proposal video. It’s stunning. May we share it on our company account for promotion?” I froze for a second, then smiled. Blake and I had been together seven years. Our proposal was simple and spontaneous, just a casual suggestion after dinner. I thought this video was his secret, romantic surprise for me. “Of course,” I agreed cheerfully. After hanging up, I clicked on the planner’s social media. The latest video’s thumbnail showed Blake’s handsome profile. The caption read: “A Timeless Love Story. Seven Years Strong, He Gave Her the Surprise Proposal of a Lifetime.” I pressed play. The video was beautifully shot. Blake’s eyes held deep affection, enough to drown in. Then the camera shifted to show the woman in front of him. She stood in a white dress, hands clasped over her mouth in delight. My breath caught. The woman wasn’t me.

Seraphina POV By the time I fully registered her face, all the blood in my veins ran cold. It was Willow. Blake’s “bestie,” the one he swore was “like a sister.” In the video, he was kneeling, sliding the diamond ring-my ring-onto her finger. The comments section drowned in heart emojis and cries of “True love goals!” I closed the app. Two weeks ago, Blake had said he needed to do a favor for Willow, who was “so scared of commitment.” So this was the favor. A proposal more elaborate than the one he’d ever given me. Right then, a notification lit up my screen. A message from Blake. “What should we do for dinner tonight?” I left it on read. I screenshotted their embrace and posted it on Ins. My caption was brutal: “Dreams come true. Congrats to my fiancé Blake Harrison and his ‘bestie’ on their happy ending. Enjoy!” Blake called instantly, his voice seething. “Seraphina! What is this? Delete it now!” “Who’s the crazy one here, you or me?” I fired back. “I told you! It was a favor for Willow! She wanted to experience it! As her best friend, how could I refuse?” When I stayed silent, Blake seemed to hear his own anger. He took a breath, softening his tone slightly. “You know Willow’s ‘anti-marriage.’ She’s family to all of us. Nothing is going on. Don’t be dramatic.” His words struck me as utterly absurd. “Dramatic? So, unless you help her ‘experience’ her wedding night too, I’m ‘dramatic’?!” Blake roared, his anger flaring. “Seraphina! Don’t be so disgusting! Do you think everyone’s as high-maintenance as you? Willow has always been upfront; she’s not as twisted as you are!” “Fine, I’m twisted. I’ve desecrated your sacred friendship.” At that moment, I just felt exhausted. “I’m not marrying you.” I couldn’t be bothered to argue anymore. I just hung up.

Seraphina POV Half an hour later, the door was swung open. Blake stormed in, rage burning in his eyes. “Seraphina!” He pointed at me, his eyes bloodshot. “Explain yourself! What do you mean, ‘not marrying you’?!” I sat on the sofa, not even glancing his way. Blake grew even angrier. “Delete that Ins post immediately and go apologize to Willow! Otherwise, this wedding…” He didn’t finish his sentence. I stood up and slammed our wedding invitations onto the coffee table in front of him. Blake froze. “What are you doing with those?” I didn’t answer. Right in front of him, I pulled out one card and tore it forcefully. “Are you insane?! Stop that!” Blake reacted, trying to snatch them away. It was too late. I didn’t stop. I shredded all the remaining invitations, then tossed the pieces into the air. I watched Blake’s stunned expression and calmly told him, “I said, I’m not marrying you. So these things are useless now.” Blake was completely stunned by my actions. His shock quickly turned into furious indignation. “Fine! Seraphina, this is your choice. Don’t you dare regret it!” He threw the harsh words at me, then slammed the door shut as he left. I looked at the mess on the floor and felt, instead, a sense of lightness. When did I start losing myself, becoming so utterly pathetic in this relationship? My own proposal was Blake’s casual “Let’s get married” after dinner. I even picked out my own ring. For seven years, I’d numbed myself with the excuse that “he’s just not romantic.” But that meticulously planned proposal for Willow on TikTok? It ripped my lies to shreds. He wasn’t unromantic; he just couldn’t be bothered to put in the effort for me. Memories flooded back. Willow always rode shotgun in Blake’s car. His excuse? “She gets motion sickness in the back.” We’d make plans for a movie, but one call from Willow saying her game needed another player, and he’d ditch me in an instant. The money we’d worked so hard to save? He even suggested we lend it to Willow first for her “startup.” My every complaint was met with Blake’s dismissive “Why are you always so petty?” Seven years. I changed so much for Blake, learned to tolerate so much. I didn’t lose to love. I lost to him, and to his best friend who clearly didn’t understand personal space. Now, I refused to tolerate it anymore. Picking up my phone, I started making calls, one by one, canceling everything related to the wedding. “Amy, I’m so sorry, the wedding is off. Please keep the deposit.” “Hello, I need to cancel the wedding banquet for next month.” With every call, a layer of that seven-year weight fell away. Seven years wasted on a dog, but at least it wasn’t a lifetime. The relief was real. I’d gotten out in time.

Seraphina POV After Blake stormed out, my Instagram notifications blew up. Willow had just posted. The photos were a series of goofy selfies of her and Blake, but their poses screamed intimacy. The caption was a masterpiece of fake nonchalance: “Oops, got a little carried away living out a ‘what-if’ scenario! So sorry if it confused anyone. We’re just two chronically single besties who got a bit too into the bit. Back to our regularly scheduled programming!” Immediately, my phone began to ring off the hook. The messages were all from our mutual friends, their wording almost identical. “Seraphina, it was just a joke, don’t take it seriously.” “Seven years of a relationship isn’t easy, delete your Ins post and give Blake a way out.” “You know Willow’s personality, she’s like one of the guys, don’t overthink it.” I looked at these messages and let out a cold laugh. Everyone was on their moral high horse, telling me to “be the bigger person.” I saw it clearly: they were protecting that little circle centered around Blake. These people were Blake’s and Willow’s friends, never mine. I didn’t reply to a single message. I opened each chat, found their names, and blocked them, one by one, with resolute finality. After purging them, my phone rang again. It was Mrs. Harrison, Blake’s mother. I answered. “Hello.” On the other end, Mrs. Harrison’s voice was laced with that familiar maternal pressure. “Seraphina, Blake told me you two had a fight. Why are you breaking up over a silly little joke?” “It wasn’t a joke.” “Willow’s like a daughter to us, I watched her grow up. She and Blake have always been a bit wild together, you should be more understanding.” Mrs. Harrison’s words were all about defending Willow. “As Blake’s future wife, you need to be more understanding.” “Listen to me, delete that Ins post, and this whole thing can be over. Don’t let relatives and friends make fun of us.” And just like that, I understood exactly where Blake’s complete lack of boundaries came from. Willow’s presence was openly condoned. If I actually married him, the future was suffocating just to imagine. I cut her off. “This isn’t a joke; it’s a matter of principle. Blake and I have broken up. This decision won’t change.” Mrs. Harrison’s displeasure was palpable. “You child, why are you being so unreasonable?” I didn’t want to argue anymore. “Sorry, I have to go.” I hung up and blocked her number too.

Seraphina POV After hanging up with Mrs. Harrison, I thought of the wedding dress. It was my main gown, the one I’d personally helped design, making over a dozen trips to the studio. Now that I’d decided to break things off, I needed to deal with it-at least pay the final balance or see if it could be returned. I took a cab to the haute couture bridal shop. As I approached the VIP fitting room, before I even pushed the door open, I heard a familiar laugh from inside. “Wow, Blake, does it look good?” My hand froze on the doorknob. It was Willow’s voice. Then came Blake’s voice, full of doting affection. “Gorgeous! It looks custom-made for you, Willow. You’re beautiful in a wedding dress.” I shoved the door open. In front of the full-length mirror, Willow was twirling around, wearing my fishtail white gown. The layers of lace, the intricate details-I’d stayed up late sketching and refining those. Now, they were on another woman. And my fiancé, Blake, was holding his phone, finding angles to photograph her. Hearing the door, they both turned. Seeing me, a flicker of awkwardness crossed Blake’s face. “Seraphina? What are you doing here?” Willow, holding up her skirt, approached me with a sickeningly innocent smile. “Seraphina, don’t get the wrong idea! I just saw this dress. It was too beautiful not to try. You know I’m against marriage. I’ll never have a real wedding. So I thought, why not have a little pretend moment before yours?” She twirled, her skirt brushing my feet. “Seraphina, you don’t mind, do you? I’ll only wear it for ten minutes.” I looked at her, then at Blake. “Take it off.” Blake frowned. “Seraphina, what’s with the temper tantrum again? Willow was just curious; it’s not like she’ll ruin it.” “This is my wedding dress,” I stared at Blake. “It was custom-made for me. I was going to wear it on my wedding day. Blake, do you have any sense of decency at all?” “Are you done yet?” Blake impatiently put down his phone. “Willow is my best friend. It’s just a dress. Is it really worth getting so angry over? Fine, maybe I’ll just give her this dress for her to take pictures in later.” Give it to her? I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. My custom-made wedding dress, in his mouth, had become an item to appease another woman. “Oh no, Blake, don’t yell at Seraphina, it’s all my fault.” Willow put on a tearful act, trying to grab my hand in feigned panic. Just then, the glass of bright red strawberry fruit tea in her hand slipped. The red tea splashed out, most of it spilling onto the pristine white skirt of the wedding dress. Large, dark red stains rapidly bloomed across the snow-white lace. “Ah!” Willow shrieked, covering her mouth. “I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to!” Blake’s first reaction wasn’t even to look at the dress. He immediately pulled Willow closer, anxiously checking her hands and clothes. “Are you okay? Not burned, are you? Did you get your clothes dirty?” After confirming Willow was fine, he finally turned to the ruined dress and frowned at me. “See what you did? You had to come over and yell at her, scaring Willow so much she couldn’t even hold her cup steady. It’s fine. It’s just a little fruit tea stain, the staff can just send it for dry cleaning. Don’t make such a fuss.” I looked at the destroyed dress, my heart sinking further. “No need to clean it.” I looked up. “I find things that have been dirtied disgusting.” Blake froze. “What do you mean?” I turned, walked directly to the counter, and slapped the unpaid balance receipt onto the table. “Manager, I’m not returning this wedding dress. I’m paying the full balance now.” “Since Miss Willow likes it so much and also stained it, then Mr. Harrison can pay for it in full. Blake, didn’t you just say you wanted to give it to her for photos? Pay up.” Blake’s eyes widened. “Seraphina, are you insane? That’s hundreds of thousands of dollars!” “What? You don’t want to spend money on your dear ‘sister’?” I said. “Weren’t you so generous just now?” The surrounding staff and customers all stared, whispering and pointing. Blake gritted his teeth, pulled out his credit card, and slammed it onto the table. “Swipe it! It’s just a damn dress! Only you would treat it like a treasure! I’m buying it for Willow, so you can stop being sarcastic.” The card went through. Willow was still feigning reluctance. “Blake, it’s too expensive, I can’t take it…” “Take it!” Blake, scrambling to salvage the situation, barked the order. “Wear the damn thing whenever you like!” I met his gaze and gave a single, slow nod. “Remember you said that. The dress is yours now.” Then I turned and walked out of the bridal salon His frustrated shout chased after me. “Seraphina! Get back here! What is this now? You’re being impossible!” I didn’t stop. Tears fell, but I quickly wiped them away.

Seraphina POV When I got home at night, I felt a chill seep into my bones, and my stomach churned with spasmodic pain. Perhaps the anger from the bridal shop, combined with not eating all day, had triggered my chronic gastritis. I forced myself into the bedroom and pulled out my suitcase. I didn’t want to stay in this house for another minute. I began to shove my clothes into the bag. The cramping in my stomach continued, and I just wanted to finish packing quickly. Just then, I heard the sound of the key turning in the front door. Blake was home. He was carrying a few takeout containers. Seeing me pack, Blake paused, then a flicker of impatience crossed his face. “What now? I bought the dress, I paid for it, and you’re still not over it? Are you running away from home now?” In his mind, I was merely throwing a childish tantrum. I barely had the strength to argue with him. Clutching my stomach, I slowly sank to the floor. “Blake, do we have any medicine? Can you get me some water?” Blake frowned, walking over. “Don’t act like this. You were fine at the store earlier. How are you suddenly sick now that you’re home?” “My stomach hurts.” “It really hurts.” Blake scoffed. “Save it, Seraphina. How many times have you played the sick card when we argue? Can’t you come up with something new?” Though he said this, he still placed the takeout on the table and turned to get some water. Just then, his phone rang. Blake’s expression changed instantly. He answered the call. “Hello, Willow?” Willow’s tearful voice came through the phone. “Blake, the power suddenly went out at my place, I’m so scared…” Blake’s voice instantly softened. He patiently cooed, “Don’t be scared, I’ll be right there!” Blake hung up, grabbed his car keys, and started to rush out. “Blake…” I lay sprawled by the bed, using the last of my strength to tug on his pant leg. “I really don’t feel well, take me to the hospital…” Blake stopped, looking down at me. He spoke with irritation. “Stop faking it!” He roughly shook off my hand. “The power’s out at Willow’s, and she has claustrophobia. What if something happens to her? You just have a stomach ache. There’s stomach medicine in the cabinet; you can take a couple of pills yourself. Are you really going to die?” “You just had to put on a show right now. There’s a time and place for drama!” With that, he didn’t spare me another glance, striding out of the bedroom. BANG! The front door slammed shut. The pain in my stomach felt like it was tearing me apart, but the coldness in my heart was far worse than the physical agony. I curled into a ball on the floor, tears silently soaking into the carpet. It turned out that in Blake’s heart, half of my life was less important than a power outage at Willow’s place. This was the man I had loved for seven years. This was the man I wanted to spend my life with. After a long while, my hand trembling, I dialed 911. “Hello, emergency services, I’m having severe stomach cramps, my address is…” After hanging up, I struggled to my feet, rummaged through a drawer for painkillers, and dry-swallowed two pills. A bitter taste spread in my mouth. I looked at the empty room and suddenly laughed. Blake, since you love being with her so much, then stay with her forever. This home, this place, I don’t want it anymore. By the time the ambulance arrived, I had regained a sliver of strength. I refused the stretcher and walked into the ambulance myself. I was on an IV until midnight at the hospital before the stomach pain finally subsided. I pulled out the needle and went home alone.

Seraphina POV The next morning, Blake pushed the door open. I sat on the sofa, not even looking at him. Blake announced as he changed his shoes, “Willow was scared last night, so she’s staying in our guest room for a few days.” No sooner had he spoken than Willow poked her head out, wearing Blake’s oversized shirt and carrying the bag with the stained wedding dress. “Morning, Seraphina! Blake gave me this dress, I’m thinking of shortening it to wear as a party dress. You don’t mind, do you?” I glanced at the loose men’s shirt; it was Blake’s, now on someone else. I smiled. “Not at all. If you like picking up other people’s unwanted old clothes, keep it.” Willow’s face stiffened. She hadn’t expected me to hit back. Blake frowned, rebuking me with displeasure. “Seraphina, don’t be so nasty. It’s just a dress.” I scoffed, too tired for further argument, and turned to go back to my room. That evening, a pungent, spicy aroma filled the living room. Blake emerged carrying two bowls of noodles. Willow, already seated at the table, eagerly took one. “It smells amazing! Blake, you’re the best, you knew I was craving this.” Blake placed the other bowl in front of me. “There’s plain porridge in the pot, help yourself. Your stomach isn’t well, so no spicy food for you.” Willow ate, sighing dramatically. “Poor Seraphina, can’t even eat this delicious ramen, stuck with tasteless porridge.” I stood at the bedroom door, looking at the starkly divided dinner, and suddenly burst out laughing. I walked to the dining table and looked at Blake. My laughter clearly unnerved him. He impatiently looked up. “What are you laughing at?” “I’m laughing at your bad memory,” I said. “Blake, who told you I naturally love bland porridge?” Blake froze, then slammed his cutlery onto the table. “What new tantrum is this? You’ve been eating like this for three years! I’m doing this for your health, don’t be ungrateful.” “For my health?” I said. “I spent three years eating nothing but bland food with you. Did you seriously think I enjoyed it?” I leaned down, staring into Blake’s eyes, enunciating each word. “Blake, in these three years, did you ever once ask me if I wanted spicy food?” Blake was speechless, his mouth opening and closing. Then, he flushed with anger. “If you don’t want to eat it, then don’t! Eat it or don’t, I don’t care!” I straightened up. “Indeed. Things I don’t like, I won’t touch again.” With that, I turned to leave. “Wait.” Blake stopped me, his tone shifting to a calmer one. “Liam and the others are having dinner tomorrow night, at the usual spot. You should come too.” I paused, my back to him, saying nothing. Blake, assuming I was being stubborn, grew impatient again. “Don’t be difficult. This whole wedding dress thing has upset everyone. If you come tomorrow, it’s the perfect chance to make up with Willow, and then we can just move past all this.” He expected me to quietly show up tomorrow, bow my head, and then he’d forgive my “unreasonable behavior” of the past few days. Willow’s saccharine voice chimed in from behind him. “Exactly, Seraphina. Everyone’s waiting. Don’t be rude.” I turned to face them, this sudden united front. “Alright.” I looked at Blake and smiled. He frowned, but at my agreement, some of the tension left his shoulders. “Good. You’re finally being reasonable.” I didn’t answer and turned back to my room. Go? Of course I’m going. I had seven years of messy history to settle. Why would I leave out the supporting cast? I was going to let everyone know what kind of jerk Blake really was!

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After Jason lost his memory in a car crash, he forgot our ten years of love. He was welcomed back by his powerful birth family, matched with a perfect fiancée, and I became the gold-digging stranger clinging to his past. My flower shop was destroyed. He watched coldly as his fiancée pushed me to the floor. The child in my womb became a pool of blood. He only wrinkled his nose in disgust. “A gold-digger’s daughter, daring to dream above your station.” When fire trapped us both, he rushed to his fiancée without hesitation. As flames burned my skin, I heard his final dismissive words. “Amber, I never lost my memory. You owed me this.” “If there’s a next life, I hope we never meet.” In the darkness, I heard a sterile, mechanical voice. “Jason Thompson has traded his life for your rebirth.” I opened my eyes again. I found myself back to the day he woke up from the car crash, his memory gone. This time, I didn’t cry. I didn’t try to prove I was his girlfriend. Instead, I offered a calm smile. “Mr. Thompson. I am Amber Reed, your patron.”

“What did you say?” Jason stared at me, rigid, as if taken aback by my answer. Next to him, his fiancée, Sarah, scoffed. “Who are you?! A pauper like you, sponsoring someone? Don’t bring your stench of poverty around us.” But this time, I spoke clearly. “I am Mr. Thompson’s patron from the past ten years.” “The itemized expenses for the last ten years come to one hundred twenty thousand. My lawyer will send you the breakdown.” In my previous life, I’d cried, grasping his hand, recounting our decade of memories over and over, begging him to look at our matching rings. Who would have thought the man who swore to love me forever would publicly rip off his ring and toss it into the trash? Then, he had his bodyguards drag me to the police station, where I was held for 24 hours. The hospital room fell silent, everyone staring at me in shock. Jason’s face shifted, his hands unconsciously clenching into fists. He must have expected me to break down like before, begging him to remember me. That way, he could comfortably use his so-called amnesia like a knife, torturing me without end. His fiancée, Sarah, spoke up. “Is money all you care about?” “Exactly. Between him and me, it’s purely a financial arrangement.” I smiled, then turned to leave. Just then, my phone buzzed, the screen flashing to life, displaying a cherished photo of Jason and me as the wallpaper. Sarah snatched my phone with startling speed, smashing it to pieces, just like my ten years of youth. Then, a cup of scalding hot coffee was poured down, drenching me from head to toe. The hot liquid trickled down my hair and neck, a burning pain that made me tremble. “Who do you think you are, aspiring to his money?” I gasped, about to retaliate, but Sarah shoved me hard. Jason didn’t stir. Suddenly, I felt utterly bored. I pulled a set of keys from my pocket and tossed them at him. “This is the place you used to live. Get your things out within twenty-four hours.” “Otherwise, I’ll treat them as trash.” Jason, still on the hospital bed, his expression frozen. It was just that I’d been so deluded in my previous life that I hadn’t noticed these obvious cracks in his story. He opened his mouth, as if to speak. But I walked out of the room without looking back. A hand grabbed my arm from behind. “Amber!” I stopped, turning back to him. “Didn’t you lose your memory? How do you know my name?” A flicker of guilt crossed his eyes, but he asked again, “Was our relationship just about sponsorship?” I nodded. Isn’t this what he wanted? Last life, he denied our love. This life, I gave him what he wished for. The hospital room door wasn’t fully closed, and Sarah’s voice drifted out. “Jason, would you really settle for someone like that?” The room was silent for a moment. Then, Jason sighed. “Back then, I was dependent on their charity, with no real say.” “Calling her my girlfriend is generous; it’s more like I was a pet their family had ‘adopted’ and controlled.” He hurled insults at me, one after another, from my personality to my daily habits, as if demeaning me would solidify his current status. I remembered him once saying he couldn’t live without me. Burning his hands, leaving them covered in blisters, just to cook for me. Scrimping and saving for months just to buy me the necklace I liked. Yet, he could watch our eagerly awaited child turn into a pool of blood right before him and remain utterly indifferent. I touched my lower abdomen, tears silently falling to the ground.

I processed the flower shop transfer and contacted a private investigator. Back home, everything was still familiar. The wind chimes he made by hand hung in the living room, and the succulents on the balcony were neatly arranged-plants he watered every weekend. The fridge was filled with my favorite drinks, plastered with sticky notes. “Remember to eat breakfast.” “Temperature dropped today, wear more layers…” I traced those yellowing notes, then peeled them off one by one and tossed them into the trash. That night, I dreamt. In the dream, we still lived in this little house. He was in the kitchen, wearing an apron, experimenting with delicious recipes for me. I wanted to help, but he shooed me away to watch TV. He never let me get involved in household chores. He’d even wash fruit and bring it right to my mouth. When our passion burned brightest, we’d spend entire days nestled together at home, lost in each other’s kisses and embraces. I didn’t want to wake up until the doorbell jolted me. When I opened the door, a bank card slapped against my face. “Here’s your money.” “I’m here to get my things.” Jason stood there in a sharp suit, his face cold and unyielding, a completely different man from the one in my dream, wearing an apron. He had brought Sarah with him. The giant wedding photo in the living room hadn’t been taken down yet. Jason paused for a moment as he walked past it. If I hadn’t wanted to postpone our wedding after my parents passed, we would have been married last year. Everything was ready, just one step away from the final ceremony and registering our marriage at the government office. “You even manipulated Jason into taking wedding photos, still fantasizing about marrying into wealth, huh?” Seeing this, I grabbed the baseball bat from the corner and swung it hard. The glass of the photo frame shattered across the floor. “Amber! What are you doing?!” Jason’s face darkened. He instinctively grabbed Sarah, pulling her behind him, as if afraid I’d swing the bat at her. He pushed me away with his hand. I instinctively protected my stomach, and as I fell, my hand accidentally landed on the shattered glass. He looked at the twisted, broken wedding photo and scoffed. “So why were you faking it at the hospital?!” His gaze landed on me, as if asking why I wasn’t confessing. I didn’t speak, enduring the pain, and pulled all his belongings out in a heap. “Jason Thompson, do you still want this junk?” Sarah emerged from behind Jason, walking over in her heels, and kicked over a box. It was the first gift he ever bought me, a music box with a dancing figurine inside. The music box hit the floor with a crisp, shattering sound. Something I usually cherished fiercely was now split in half, but I felt nothing. Jason never answered, only instructing his bodyguards to move everything out. It wasn’t until he was leaving that he asked in a low voice, “Are you really going to let me go so easily?” I lowered my head and gave a bitter laugh. “Mr. Thompson, you’re joking. Isn’t this what you wanted?” In my previous life, if he’d just been honest, said he was tired of me, I wouldn’t have clung on. But he chose to act, giving me cold shoulders, letting Sarah target and humiliate me. Even when I had a miscarriage right there, he didn’t hold Sarah accountable. Instead, he blamed me for scaring her and demanded I apologize. He played me for a fool, tormenting me, and I could feel a subtle undercurrent of hatred from him. But I never knew where that hatred came from. Sarah grabbed my arm then, thinking I was still clinging to him. I couldn’t resist, and slapped her across the face. The slap echoed sharply, and the next second, Jason’s hand swung out. “What the hell are you doing?!” My head snapped to the side from the impact, my vision went black for two seconds, and my stomach throbbed faintly. My hand trembled, but I managed a smile. “You’ve got your things. Now get out.” I pushed them out the door, tears tracing the red mark on my cheek. My chest ached with pain and nausea. I couldn’t help but rush to the bathroom and retch. That slap felt like it settled the score for Sarah pushing me into miscarriage in my last life. Jason and I were finally even.

Sitting on a cold bench in the OB-GYN department hallway, I waited for my number to be called for my prenatal check-up. “What are you doing here?” Hearing Jason’s familiar voice, I clutched my three-month pregnancy check-up report tightly in my hand. “Doctor’s appointment.” He stared at the OB-GYN sign, his face changing, a hesitant look in his eyes. Just as he was about to say something, Sarah interrupted him. “Jason!” She scurried over in flats, grabbing his arm. “The doctor said you need to come in with me.” “My baby is three months along, and the doctor wants to go over some things with you, the expectant father…” My breath hitched. Three months. So early. In my past life, three months ago was the peak of his startup’s struggle. He was out constantly, and I’d felt so sorry for him, I’d even put my own flower shop on hold. I learned to cook all his favorite meals, tried to make things easier. It wasn’t the business that was consuming him. He had already found his wealthy birth family. He already had a child with another woman. No wonder he was so frantic when I struck Sarah. And in my past life, when I lost our baby…he showed nothing. No grief, no anger. He already had a spare. Sarah noticed me, her expression mocking. “What, are you pregnant too?!” “Don’t think you can come to the hospital with some fake report and trick your way into marrying Jason Thompson.” I forced a smile. “Ms. Sinclair, if you have trust issues, you should see a psychiatrist. Not everyone is desperate for your man.” Sarah’s face instantly flushed, and she started to play the victim. “Jason, why is she talking to me like that?” “Last time, if it weren’t for her slap, I wouldn’t have had unexplained stomach pain and bleeding!” Jason’s face was colder than ice. Then, with his silent permission, two bodyguard-like men walked towards me and dragged me into the stairwell. Without a word, they grabbed my hair, forcing my head back. A loud slap landed on my face, and another bodyguard raised his leg, aiming for my stomach. I’m pregnant too! I struggled desperately, but the bodyguards slapped me several times. I closed my eyes in despair, instinctively protecting my lower abdomen. But it was useless. They kicked my stomach with full force. My stomach hurt so badly. Sarah still wasn’t satisfied. But Jason stepped in front of me first. “Sera, the doctor said you shouldn’t get too agitated; it’s not good for the baby. Let’s leave it at that for now.” Jason’s voice was gentle as he held her shoulder, half coaxing, half escorting her away. He never once glanced at me, curled up on the ground. Blood flowed all over the floor beneath me, my stomach was in agony, and I felt the tiny life inside me slowly fading away. Finally, a passing nurse found me and helped me onto a stretcher. Ding. My phone screen lit up. It was a message from Jason. I didn’t open it; I just dragged his number straight into my blacklist. I lay on the hospital bed, tears silently tracing paths down my face. My baby was gone. I stayed in the hospital for two days, until my flower shop employee called me, saying someone had trashed my store. My body hadn’t fully recovered, but I endured the pain and rushed over. … Just like in my previous life, Sarah came to the flower shop to cause trouble. Even after what happened at the hospital. She wasn’t someone who would let things go. I stood at the doorway, calmly watching everything unfold. Sarah imperiously directed everyone, smashing my flower shop to smithereens. Glass shards exploded, grazing my calves, but I felt no pain. I remembered once, while arranging roses, my finger was pricked by a thorn, and a bead of blood appeared. Jason saw it, held my hand, his brow deeply furrowed. He ran to find a bandage, muttering for me to be careful in the future. But now, he merely stood beside Sarah, oblivious to the destruction, letting her vent. His gaze fell on me, devoid of guilt or concern. In his eyes, I saw a struggling resentment. He hated me. I didn’t know what he hated me for. Did he resent our seemingly unequal relationship from the past? Or did he resent my family for having sponsored him, making him feel indebted and unable to hold his head high? I looked up, meeting Sarah’s gaze. “When you’re done smashing everything, remember to pay for the damages.” Sarah laughed as if she’d heard a joke. “Pay? Jason, did you hear that? She actually wants money. Is this cheap woman insane from poverty?” As she spoke, she grabbed an unbroken vase nearby and threw it at my head. I dodged, and the vase shattered against the wall behind me. I stepped forward, intending to fight back, but Jason’s hand clamped down on my wrist. Jason’s eyes blazed with fury, and he roared, “What right do you have to fight back?!”

He shoved me hard, and I laughed. “Jason, I never intended to cling to you. Why won’t you just leave me alone?” “I’ll be leaving here soon, and I won’t appear again…” Jason’s eyes, however, were full of doubt and disbelief. Sarah scoffed. “Who are you trying to fool? You think you’ll give up that easily?” “And your deadbeat parents, using sponsorship as an excuse to force Jason to marry you. Your whole family was scheming against him.” “Let me tell you, if you dare show your face in front of Jason again, I’ll have someone desecrate your parents’ graves.” My face turned cold. This time, I grabbed Sarah’s hair and slammed her head into the mangled, scattered roses. She shrieked. Her eyes were dangerously close to being pricked by the thorns. Jason wrapped his arms around me from behind, dragging me back. Finally, the bodyguards who rushed in pinned me to the ground, screaming hysterically. Sarah took the opportunity to play the victim, crying as she hugged Jason. “Jason, I’m so scared! She tried to kill me and our baby…” “If you touch my parents’ graves, I swear I won’t let you go!” Jason held her tightly. His face was cold, his eyes like ice. “Amber, how do you know I wouldn’t?” My pupils contracted. My parents had brought Jason home, sponsored his education, and treated him like their own son. He had knelt before their ashes, sobbing, vowing through tears that he would never forget their grace, that he would protect me until his last breath. But now, his words were utterly merciless. I had thought, at the very least, he would spare their memory. It wasn’t until a bodyguard handed him a phone, displaying a picture of my parents’ desecrated graves, the tombstone shattered. Jason’s eyes showed no flicker of emotion, silently condoning the insult. My heart wrenched, and my whole body convulsed with pain. My eyes, fixed on him, felt like they would bleed. “Jason, why?! What did they do wrong…” What did I ever owe him? He shifted his gaze, avoiding my question. “You provoked Sera. She’s carrying my child.” I laughed. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. Despair, powerlessness, and suffocation drowned me. Even a second life didn’t make me worthy of the truth. “Just let me go. I won’t bother you again.” Jason’s gaze wavered for a fraction of a second. Then it hardened. “Sera will cover the cost. But you will apologize to her.” I took a deep breath and stood up. Under his doubtful gaze, I slapped him hard across the face. He looked at me in disbelief, mixed with anger and hurt. But I’d had enough of his performance. I turned and left the flower shop. Jason moved to follow me, but Sarah cried out that she felt faint. He had to quickly scoop her up and get into the car. Then, he pulled out his phone and sent a message to his assistant. “Check Amber Reed’s hospital records.” … Days later, en route to the airport, the investigator’s encrypted file hit my inbox. As I read the contents of the first page, my hand trembled violently, and my blood ran cold. So that was why. That was why he’d changed overnight, faking amnesia to look me in the eye and lie. That was why he’d tossed away a decade like it was nothing!

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I heard that the girl Kamran Thorne was interested in this time had been with her struggling boyfriend for years. Kamran was relentless in pursuing her, taking what he wanted, by force if necessary, no matter the consequences. The girl fought back like a cornered Monster, refusing to yield, even if it meant her ruin. The night he finally got her, fireworks burst over the ocean, blooming for them all night long. The next day, expensive jewelry and lavish gifts flooded her home, as if money were no object. My friends told me all this when they came to the mental hospital to drop off my clothes. I coughed up a mouthful of blood, then suddenly passed out. When I woke up, Kamran, whom I hadn’t seen in six months, stood by my hospital bed, giving me a warning. “Angela, as long as you promise not to bother her, I can let you come home and enjoy all the privileges you deserve as Mrs. Thorne.” Finally, I nodded weakly in agreement. Because just before I collapsed, I’d learned my brother Nealon had lost everything in an investment last month, saddled with massive debt. Only with Kamran’s financial support had Nealon avoided ruin. It’s just cheating, isn’t it? For Nealon’s sake, I wouldn’t make a fuss anymore.

On the way home, my driver got into a rear-end collision. The car flipped, the driver was unconscious instantly, and I was severely injured. As the ambulance rushed to the scene, I suddenly regained a flicker of consciousness. With what little awareness I had left, I instinctively fumbled for my phone and called Kamran. It rang for a long time before someone picked up. I swallowed the metallic taste of blood welling in my throat and spoke with difficulty: “Kamran, I…” Kamran’s voice held an edge of impatience. “Didn’t I already send a driver to pick you up? I told you I’m busy, Angela. Can’t you be more understanding?” The phone’s receiver suddenly filled with noise. A familiar voice. The girl’s desperate cry came through: “Kamran, you can do whatever you want to me, but why would you hurt *him*?” Kamran’s voice was calm, but his words sent a chill down my spine. “Seraphina, I told you. If you dared to accept his proposal, I’d make sure he spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair.” So, the sweet, innocent-looking girl Kamran was so desperately protecting was named Seraphina. I suddenly remembered why that voice sounded so familiar. It was the sound I’d made the first time I discovered Kamran was cheating, smashing everything in sight. Kamran always knew how to drive people insane. On the other end of the line, Seraphina was crying, begging Kamran to spare her boyfriend. Before I completely lost consciousness, I heard Seraphina’s pleas. “Please, be gentle…” Her cries shifted from enraged curses to soft, broken whimpers. When I woke up, Kamran was sitting on a sofa nearby, fiddling with his phone. He noticed my gaze. He hesitated, then reached out as if to check my forehead for a fever. I turned my head away, my voice hoarse. “I’m fine.” Kamran scoffed, pulling his hand back abruptly. “Angela, you just got out, and already you’re pulling stunts like a car crash. Haven’t you learned your lesson?” My mind went blank. “I’ve told you many times, no one will ever threaten your position. You are my only wife, Angela Thorne.” “What good does it do you, fighting with some young girl fresh out of college, only to end up covered in injuries?” He thought my car accident was a desperate tactic to win his affection against Seraphina. I opened my mouth, but found anything I could say would sound weak and useless. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” After all, I knew I had no right to argue now. Kamran seemed pleased by my surrender. My brother called to tell me Kamran had pre-paid his next month’s debt. See? If I just disappeared into the background, if I knew my place, Kamran would take care of all our problems. “If you’re so miserable, Angela, then leave him. Divorce him.” “I’ll figure out the money, I promise.” My arm ached from holding the phone. I’d heard it all. Our family’s assets had been seized and put up for auction. Cars, houses—everything vanished overnight, and it still wasn’t enough to fill the hole. My brother, Nealon, had been beaten by debt collectors, moved from our palatial riverside mansion to a dark, damp basement in just three days. I heard that when Kamran found him, Nealon was curled up on a cramped twin bed, eyes closed, face pale, blood on his lips. His blanket didn’t even cover his legs. On the floor lay an unopened takeout box. We were utterly ruined, with no other choice. Now Kamran was offering cars, a house, and endless funds. All I had to do was turn a blind eye and let him have his ‘beautiful love’ with Seraphina. In our current situation, what right did we have to refuse? I managed a weak smile. “I’m not miserable. Just being blind, that’s all. I can do it.” After being discharged, I tried to be a dutiful wife. I stopped asking about Kamran’s whereabouts or his spending. When Kamran needed a ride home after drinking at a business dinner, I gave the driver Seraphina’s number. When Kamran said he wanted my homemade mushroom soup, I expertly dialed Seraphina’s number and asked her to deliver it. When Kamran complained his newly tailored cufflinks didn’t have a matching suit, I told Seraphina to contact Kamran’s private tailor. Until three months later, Kamran, uncharacteristically, called me himself. He said he was coming home for dinner tonight.

After dinner, as I mechanically prepared his suit for tomorrow, He suddenly pinned me beneath him. “You’ve been so quiet lately, almost… unlike yourself…” As a flurry of kisses rained down on my face, Seraphina’s usual gardenia perfume quickly filled my nostrils. The room’s temperature abruptly rose, making the scent even more intense. A strong wave of nausea suddenly surged in my throat. I forced myself to hold it back. But then, at the peak of it all, Kamran whispered *Seraphina’s* name. My mind went blank, my knuckles white as I gripped the pillow. The next second, I found a surge of strength from somewhere, pushed Kamran away with all my might, And rushed to the bathroom, dry-heaving over the toilet bowl. Kamran followed me closely. Seeing my actions, the lust in his eyes instantly vanished. He leaned against the doorframe, a slight frown on his brow, his tone impatient. “What’s wrong with you?” I didn’t answer him, the continuous retching echoing through the bathroom. He lost patience, simply dropping a line: “Go to the doctor tomorrow for a check-up.” The roar of his car faded downstairs, taking my sleepiness with it. I curled up in the corner of the bed, desperately trying to suppress the physical discomfort. But it seemed useless. So I got out of bed. Rummaging through drawers, trying to find some medicine, I found a pearl necklace in the back of the cabinet. It looked cheap, its metal settings faded. The cold metal in my palm suddenly grew hot, burning me so badly I almost dropped it. I remembered Kamran’s toughest year. We were twenty-two. To test his abilities, his family cut off all his financial resources, forcing him to start from the bottom. The pampered heir who used to blow millions a month was now earning a meager salary, wearing cheap, off-the-rack clothes, squeezed into a crowded employee dorm. My heart ached for him, and I secretly gave him half of my allowance. Under the moonlight, his voice choked. “Angela, it’s so good to have you.” To earn money to buy me a birthday present, He took on every odd job he could, working until he was seeing stars, refusing to stop. When he handed me a pearl necklace, his face was flushed. “The quality of this pearl is definitely nothing compared to what you have in your closet, Angela. If you don’t like it, you can just say so…” I didn’t refuse. I took off my latest designer necklace and wore that pearl necklace year after year. Many times later, that necklace became Kamran’s token to soften my heart. Snapping out of the memory, I clutched the necklace and walked to the balcony, flinging it forcefully into the air. The pearl necklace disappeared into the flowerbed, out of sight. Two months later. Someone arrived at the door. Seraphina. She wore a chic, designer-style suit, and an expensive watch adorned her wrist. Even her earrings were the ones Kamran had bought at auction for a fortune recently. I knew she had accepted Kamran’s possessive love. Like many women, she had come to make me step aside from Kamran’s marriage. “He doesn’t love you anymore. There’s no point in you holding onto this position.” “And I need the title of Mrs. Thorne to shed the label of ‘mistress’.” But now, *I* also needed that title. I only had my brother left. I could give way on everything else, but not this. Seeing no reaction from me, a flicker of hatred crossed her eyes. She slammed her hand on the table and stood up. “Angela, why can’t you keep Kamran in check?” “Why did you let him drive me and my boyfriend to the brink?” “I’m like this because of your incompetence! You’re the one who ruined me!” “If I’m not happy, then you and Kamran, you won’t be either, you disgusting cheats!” She lunged at me, her full weight pressing down on me. My lower back slammed against the metal-edged table corner, the intense pain making me momentarily speechless. I tried to push her away. But before I could even apply force, she suddenly fell to the floor herself, sending plates and silverware crashing to the floor. I turned around and saw Seraphina clutching her stomach in pain. The fabric beneath her quickly stained red with blood. She… was pregnant? The screams of the house staff echoed in my ears, and Kamran’s panicked shouts came from the entryway. The next second, a swift, brutal slap landed across my face. The blow was so hard I tasted blood on my lips. “Angela!” “I thought bringing you back these past few months meant you’d learned your lesson. I never thought you’d still be so stubborn!” An indescribable bitterness surged, rising to my throat, thick with the metallic taste of blood. My voice hoarse, I defended myself: “I didn’t push her…” Kamran didn’t listen to my explanation. He scooped Seraphina up, holding her close, and bolted out the door, his composure shattered. The man who usually remained unflappable even at the negotiation table now had a back that trembled subtly with fear. A week later, I received a call from my brother. “Angela, can you please ask Kamran why he suddenly disconnected the bank account for repayments?” “If it’s too much trouble, then forget it…”

I mumbled a reply, understanding in my heart that Nealon was always too proud. He wouldn’t have called me unless he was truly desperate. When I called Kamran, he picked up quickly, as if he’d been waiting for my call. “What card? Oh… that one. I thought it might have been compromised, so I unlinked it. Is there a problem?” Kamran’s tone was dismissive. But his words felt like a heavy hammer blow to my heart. My hands twisted my shirt hem nervously, and I forced myself to speak. “But Nealon can’t wait, Kamran. Please, can’t you be considerate of me, just this once, like you used to be…” *Kamran*. It had been a long time since I’d called him that. Kamran fell silent for a moment. After a rustling sound, Seraphina’s voice came through. “Angela, don’t you know the company is facing financial strain lately? You and your brother are like bottomless pits; no matter how much money is given, it’s never enough. You’ll drag him down eventually.” Financial strain… The headlines I saw this morning suddenly flashed in my mind. “CEO Kamran Thorne Lavishes Millions for Love! Multi-Million Dollar Mansion, Luxury Car Titles All Registered to Seraphina Hayes!” Financial strain, it was because of this, wasn’t it? An endless bitterness spread across my tongue, like insects gnawing relentlessly, making my heart tremble with pain. “Kamran has left this matter to me. If you can appease me enough, he’ll naturally repay your brother’s debt.” I agreed without hesitation. “I’ll send you an address. Come find me tomorrow, and I’ll tell you.” I never expected Seraphina to send me the address of *my* old family home. Standing at the gate, looking at the familiar exterior, I felt a strange sense of déjà vu, as if stepping into a different lifetime. The cherry tree outside the door was in bloom. When Kamran and I planted this cherry tree together, he asked me, “Do you know what cherry blossoms symbolize?” I shook my head. He leaned down, gently biting my left ear, his hot breath on my earlobe making my heart pound. “Angela, I’m your prisoner of love.” A spring breeze blew, bringing me back to reality. I gave a self-deprecating smile. Entering the courtyard. In front of the massive French windows, the sunlight made the indoor furniture gleam, filtered through the white sheer curtains. I saw two intertwined bodies sprawled on the very chair my mother cherished most. Kamran’s breathing was ragged, his voice laced with both seduction and a hint of punishment. “So, you promised you wouldn’t go too far.” Seraphina playfully pushed his shoulder, giggling. “You gave me this house. Why are you still telling me what to do?” What did she mean… he *gave* her this house? I rushed into the house, distraught, and confronted him: “This house, did you really give it to her?” Kamran got up from Seraphina, slowly wrapping his bathrobe around himself. “Yes, the paperwork is being processed.” The moment those words left his mouth, my ears buzzed. I couldn’t hold back my emotions anymore. Like a madwoman, I lunged at Kamran, hitting him. “Why would you give it to her! You promised that as long as I listened to you, this house would be returned to me!” “Kamran, why did you give it to her, why?!” He grabbed my flailing hands and shoved me roughly onto the sofa. Even though the sofa was soft, a dull ache still throbbed in my lower abdomen when I hit it. “She lost a baby. This house is my compensation to her.” “If you had lost a baby that day, I would have compensated you too.” “And Angela, don’t forget why you’re here today.” In an instant, I forgot how to cry, how to shout, how to hate. When a sliver of rationality returned, Seraphina had also gotten dressed. “Angela, I haven’t quite decided how to punish you. How about… you get down on your knees and beg me?” Meeting Seraphina’s haughty gaze, a powerful sense of humiliation instantly erupted within me. But I knew I couldn’t refuse. The room fell silent. For a moment, I only heard a soft, muffled thud. It wasn’t my knees. It was my spine, straight for twenty-six years, that snapped completely in that moment. Seraphina smiled. “I don’t have all day to spend here with you.” “This is your house. You must know where the security cameras are, right? If I check the security footage and don’t see you on your knees, then I probably can’t help your brother.” With that, she linked her arm with Kamran’s and left. My abdominal pain grew worse. I was in too much pain to straighten up. Every time I tried to stand and catch my breath, The security camera in the corner would subtly shift. The person behind the camera seemed to be reminding me, over and over, that if I dared to run, dared to stand, My brother would be ruined. As night fell, I suddenly felt a warm gush between my legs. By the moonlight, I saw my pants were already stained crimson. Terrified, I called my brother. I cried, telling him I was dying, that I was bleeding so much. My brother, Nealon, arrived. He was still in his uniform from his part-time job. He trembled as he scooped me up and ran towards the ambulance. “Angela, don’t sleep! Keep your eyes open for me!” “Angela! Don’t you dare fall asleep!” Before I was wheeled into the operating room, dimly, I saw Kamran. It was the first time I’d seen him so distraught since we got married. The man who usually kept every strand of hair perfectly in place now wore his coat inside out in his carelessness. Could he actually look so panicked for me? But I didn’t want to see him anymore.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “343218”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #擦边Steamy #重生Reborn

My husband, Liam, had been taking me, eight months pregnant, to this cheap fried chicken place daily. He always ordered the same $4.99 combo. I told him I was sick of fried chicken and asked him to get me a salad instead. He slammed the fried chicken right into my face, his eyes practically spitting fire. “I drive a cab every day to support you, and you still dare to be picky? Ungrateful bitch!” Then he immediately turned, flashing a fawning smile at Tiffany, the curvy, sexy owner of the fried chicken shop. “My apologies! My wife is just being extra about that! Tonight, all the fried chicken in the shop is on me!” With that, he snatched $1000 from me and handed it to Tiffany. That $1000 was for my prenatal checkup today. I forced a bitter smile. I remembered how, ever since we got married, Liam and I had moved into a cramped, dark basement apartment, scrimping on every single penny. Liam always used to reassure me: “When I make it big, I’ll treat you and our child like royalty.” But I never expected him to cheat before he even made it big. Sobbing, I ran to the Dean’s office and collapsed into his arms. “Dad, I’m so sorry. I want a divorce!”

“Bang!” The fried chicken smacked hard against my head, sauce dripping down my hair and into my collar. Before I could even react, a swift slap sent my head reeling to the side. My head was buzzing. I pointed at him, utterly incredulous. “You just hit me?!” Tiffany, the owner, who had been busy in the back, rushed over with a worried look. “What’s going on? Liam, your wife is pregnant, and pregnant women are so emotional. If she did something wrong, you just need to be more understanding.” She shot me a sly glance, a smug smirk playing on her lips in the shadows. Liam, who had just been furious, instantly plastered on a smile. “Yes, you’re right. You’re so thoughtful.” Did something wrong? All I said was I didn’t want fried chicken anymore. I just wanted a salad! For a pregnant woman, eating fried chicken every single day was totally unhealthy. Tears welled up in my eyes, unbidden, as I clutched my enormous belly, feeling completely lost. The whispers around me grew louder, and Liam awkwardly cleared his throat. “Chloe, I’m trying so hard. Look, even for fried chicken today, I only ordered one for you. I didn’t even get one for myself.” The cheap perfume Tiffany wore, mixed with the greasy smell of the fried chicken shop, grated on my nerves. But my good manners, however, wouldn’t let me make a scene. I took a deep breath, hastily wiped my face with a tissue, and started to leave. Tiffany, still grinning, stopped Liam. “Liam, what about this broken plate…?” “Oh, my bad. It messed up your business. I’ll pay for the plate.” He spoke fawningly, then turned to everyone in the shop. “My apologies, everyone! My treat tonight, order whatever you want!” The customers cheered and clapped. “What a generous guy!” “We know a man’s struggles!” “Another 10 bottles of beer over here!” Cheers erupted, mixed with boisterous shouts, drowning out everything else. My steps faltered, and my hands, hidden in my sleeves, clenched into fists. For the first time in my life, I didn’t wait for him. I hailed a cab and left alone.

It was a thirty-minute drive, and already past ten at night. I, a heavily pregnant woman in her third trimester, took a cab from downtown to the suburbs, and Liam hadn’t sent a single text apologizing or asking if I was okay. Clutching my phone, my stomach gave a sharp, painful lurch. The taxi slowly pulled up to a muddy, narrow alley. I was just about to pull out my phone to pay when I heard a “ding!” “Your bank card has been debited $1000.” I stared at the message that popped up, my mind going blank with a sudden “boom.” “Come on, pay up! Stop dawdling, I’ve got another fare waiting!” the driver impatiently snapped. “Right, right, sorry.” My hands trembled as I entered my PIN, but the machine flashed “insufficient balance.” “How about this, sir? I’ll run upstairs and get you cash.” The driver slammed a fist on the steering wheel, furious. “Hurry up! If you don’t have money, why call a cab? What a freakin’ pain in the butt at this hour!” I bit back tears and hurried upstairs, got the money, and sent the driver off. Even as he drove away, I could hear him muttering curses about me. Choking on the exhaust fumes, I slumped onto the curb, utterly defeated, burying my head in my arms and sobbing. I don’t know how long passed before someone hugged me from behind. A wave of stale alcohol hit me. “Get lost,” I pushed him away. Liam didn’t pull back; instead, he rested his chin on my shoulder, nuzzling gently. “Baby, driving a taxi has been so stressful lately. I’ve been neglecting you, I’m sorry.” My body stiffened. He used to do that back when we were dating, a little trick to charm me. It meant he was hoping for forgiveness, no matter how badly he’d screwed up. I touched my belly and sighed deeply. Maybe he really was under too much pressure. Back home, I immediately turned on the heater and started to shower. Halfway through, the light went out. A cold draft swept through, and I couldn’t stop sneezing. I yelled outside: “Liam, why did the heater turn off! Did we run out of electricity credits?” I called again and again, but silence. What was going on? Our apartment was tiny, barely 500 square feet. Was he deaf? No choice, I quickly finished my shower and went out – the water heater was off. “Liam! Liam! Get out here, now!” I stomped my foot, screaming, so angry I could barely breathe. He hurried out, wearing an apron, a chef’s knife still dripping water in his hand. “Did you turn off the water heater?” I asked, softening my tone. “Sorry… electricity is just too expensive. You’re not that delicate, are you?” “I’ll make you a bowl of hot noodle soup to warm you up.” He then ducked back into the kitchen. While I waited at the table for five minutes, I checked our remaining electricity credits. Sure enough, we were in arrears again. A wave of sadness washed over me. Watching Liam busy in the kitchen, my chest felt tight and uncomfortable. The noodles were brought out – just clear broth and plain noodles, not even a single green vegetable. I took a bite. It was bland and tasteless, like he’d forgotten the salt. Liam, wiping his hands on his apron, looked at me expectantly. “How is it? Good?” I ate two bites, then couldn’t manage any more. I looked around our cramped apartment, feeling even more stifled. “I’m going to go wait tables at the restaurant. I need to earn back the electricity money.” Liam nodded like a bobblehead.

My main job was a nurse; the restaurant work was a side hustle, from 10 PM to 11 PM, for $10 an hour for the graveyard shift. The icy water was brutal, making my chapped hands ache and turn a painful red, constantly splashing onto my belly. My baby seemed to protest too, a few sharp kicks against my ribs. Dirt and grime clung to my fingers, and I saw what looked like a customer’s vomit. My hand trembled. “Crack!” The plate slipped from my grasp and shattered on the floor. Mr. Henderson, the manager, stood with his hands on his hips, jabbing his finger hard into my temple, his voice booming. “What do you think you’re doing?! Get out! You’re not working today!” I sharply raised my head, tears blurring my vision. “Please, no! You know my situation…” Mr. Henderson glanced at the leftovers on a nearby plate, grabbed a random plastic bag from the floor, and started dumping the food in. Greens, roasted chicken, sweet soup… all mixed together, it looked like pig slop. The tied-up plastic bag was unceremoniously tossed to the floor. “Take this and get out! Aren’t you always pulling these little stunts?!” Mr. Henderson sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, intentionally raising his voice to mock me. I walked home like a zombie, my stomach aching with hunger. Clutching my lower back, I went to the kitchen and found the noodle bowl and forks still sitting in the sink, unwashed. I headed straight to the bedroom. What greeted me was a room in utter disarray: clothes, shoes, instant noodle cups… everywhere. Liam was sprawled on the bed, sleeping soundly, snoring like a freight train. Was he that tired? I was exhausted too… Enduring the aches, I washed the dishes in the kitchen. When I went to throw out the trash, I saw two eggshells at the bottom of the bin. The tears I’d held back for so long burst forth when I saw those two eggshells. He’d put two eggs in his noodles earlier—but hadn’t spared a single one for me. Hadn’t he always sworn he’d suffer before he’d let me suffer? My heart ached with sharp, pulling pains. I placed a hand on my belly and took deep breaths, trying to calm myself. After washing up, I curled into a small corner of the bed. Just as I was about to fall asleep, I remembered my anomaly scan appointment for tomorrow. I pushed Liam hard twice, but he didn’t react, only mumbled something, rolled over, and continued sleeping. Unable to take it anymore, I slapped him across the face. “Liam! You used my card to pay that tramp, what about my prenatal checkup tomorrow?!” He suddenly threw off the covers and sat up, glaring at me and roaring. “Figure it out yourself! All you ever talk about is money, money, money! If you need money, you figure it out!” “You’re just a gold-digger, and you’re calling that hardworking woman names? You’re the pathetic one!” Me, a gold-digger? I broke ties with my family to be with him! I gave up my career as a resident physician to become a registered nurse, and now I don’t even have money for my prenatal checkup, and somehow it’s my fault? “Get out! I don’t want to see you!” I screamed, my voice hoarse. He only raised an eyebrow, a mocking look on his face. “If anyone’s getting out, it’s you. Don’t you dare forget who actually paid the rent this month!” “You…” A sudden, intense pain shot through my stomach. I clutched my belly, gasping for air. Instinctively reaching out for help, my hand trembled, but then I heard Liam scoff. “Faking it again, huh? You loved playing the victim when we were dating. Looks like old habits die hard, even now.” Then he pulled the covers over his head and went back to sleep.

My heart sank. I could only sit on the bed, groaning in pain, waiting for the agony to subside. “Are you serious? You’re still faking it?” He sat up again, looking annoyed. But when he saw my cold sweat and my body trembling, his expression changed. “What’s wrong with you? Let’s go, I’ll take you to the hospital. This is my first kid, and I’m not risking bad luck by losing it!” He bent over, and the jacket from his suit slid off the bed and fell to the floor. A stack of white papers spilled out. The word “Contract” was clearly visible. What contract? Alarm bells went off in my head. Along with Liam’s startled cry, I quickly reached out and snatched them up. The title boldly proclaimed: Contract for the Acquisition of a Fried Chicken Restaurant Chain. Party A: Liam Smith. Party B: Tiffany Jones. Liam snatched the contract from my hands, his face frantic, his words tumbling out incoherently. “Chloe, I didn’t mean to pretend to be poor. I was just testing if your love for me was true.” “I’ll transfer the money to you right now.” “Your PayPal account has received $10,000.” Ten thousand? I scoffed, turning my face away. To think that our marriage, which meant more than anything to me, was just a game in Liam’s eyes. I was nothing but a fool! Seeing I didn’t react, Liam suddenly dropped to his knees with a thud and began to hit his head on the floor, begging. Again and again, and soon his forehead was streaked with blood. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. I’ll give you my debit card right away.” He’d never cried in front of me before, but now tears streamed down his face, and he was sobbing like a child. “Will you come with me for my prenatal checkup tomorrow?” My father would definitely check the results of my checkup. He wouldn’t be at ease if I went alone. Liam’s face clouded over again, and he scratched his head. “But tomorrow I have a very important company meeting.” Furious, I threw a pillow hard at him, and he just gave a silly laugh. I lay down, ignoring him, trying to sleep, but he insisted on pressing close to me. He plastered on that familiar, shamelessly eager-to-please expression, just like when we first got married. Unfortunately, we could never go back. Clutching my swollen belly, I walked alone down the corridor of the obstetrics and gynecology department. Everywhere I looked, there were couples. From time to time, people would look at me and sigh. “How pitiful, so far along in her pregnancy and alone at the hospital.” “Yeah, her husband is so irresponsible. He probably won’t take care of her after the baby is born either.” Their whispers felt like daggers in my back, and I quickened my pace. In the office, Dr. Davis, the head of obstetrics and gynecology, praised me while performing my ultrasound. “The baby is very healthy.” Seeing me keep my head down and say nothing, he added: “Your dad still cares about you. He knew you were coming today and specifically asked me to be here to look after you.” “Really?” My voice caught in my throat. I had wronged my father, hurting him for a scumbag. But I was also so confused. After all, the baby hadn’t been born yet, and Liam had promised to change. “By the way, what’s your husband’s name? Why isn’t he here today?” I gave an awkward laugh. “He has business at work. His name is Liam Smith.” Dr. Davis suddenly fell silent, unmoving, frowning in thought. My heart skipped a beat. “What’s wrong, Dr. Davis? Is there something wrong with the baby?” “Oh! I just remembered, there was another pregnant woman whose husband had the same name earlier.” “That couple was so sweet. The husband even spent a fortune to book a luxury VIP suite at the hospital for his wife.” I froze, a dreadful premonition rising within me. After asking for the room number, I politely but firmly refused Dr. Davis’s offer to accompany me. I had to go alone. By the time I reached the hospital room door, I could barely stand, steadying myself by gripping the doorknob. What if it wasn’t him? Maybe it was just a coincidence. There are so many people with the same name in the world. I quietly pushed the door open a crack. The moment I saw the familiar figures inside, I collapsed to the floor. There, intimately close on the hospital bed, were Liam and Tiffany. Liam rushed over in a panic to help me up, but I violently shook off his hand. “Get lost! You’re disgusting!” With that, I stumbled to my feet and ran toward the Dean’s office. Tears streamed down my face. By the time I saw my father, I was sobbing uncontrollably, throwing myself into his arms with overwhelming grief. “Dad, I’m so sorry, I was wrong! I want a divorce!”

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My daughter was hit by an entitled rich kid speeding on a pedestrian walkway. He was drunk. Multiple rib fractures, and her thigh bone was shattered. She’s still in a coma. His parents want to settle. He was arrogant, utterly self-righteous: “Sign this legal waiver. Don’t ruin my son’s future.” Rage burned away my sanity. I grabbed the waiver and slapped it across his face. “You wish!” Mr. Sterling smirked, his gaze sweeping over me from head to toe. “The law says compensation for a fatality is barely a million. And your daughter isn’t even dead. How about two million, plus medical expenses?” As he spoke, he pulled out a bank card, a smug look on his face. “Don’t recognize it, do you? This is an exclusive global black card.” My eyes landed on the card. It had the unique pattern I knew so well. It was the birthday gift I’d given my wife. In that instant, my eyes turned blood red with fury, a gaze that could kill. “How much is your son’s life worth? Name your price. I’ll buy it.”

When I rushed to the hospital, my legs were so weak I could barely stand. My daughter,Belle, was covered in bandages, lying silently and unmoving in the ICU. The traffic police showed me photos from the scene. Chloe and two other girls looked like broken dolls, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles, white shirts soaked crimson. The doctor said she’d had a brush with hell, just barely made it. After three days of keeping vigil byBelle’s side, I received a call from her school. The driver’s parents wanted to meet. I arrived at the school to find a man in an expensive suit scrolling on his phone on the sofa. He barely lifted an eyelid, saying casually, “You must beBelle’s dad. Have a seat.” As he spoke, Mr. Sterling handed me a legal waiver. “Don’t waste time. Just sign it. Don’t mess with my son’s future.” He was so arrogant, so entitled. Overwhelming rage threatened to consume what little sanity I had left. The image ofBelle, drenched in blood, kept flashing in my mind. I clenched my jaw, my hands trembling violently. I tore the so-called waiver into pieces and threw them at his face. “Your son is unforgivable. Dream on!” I instinctively lunged at him, throwing a punch, wanting to smash this man in front of me to pieces too! How dare the perpetrator act so high and mighty, so rude! But the school teachers quickly held me back, acting as if they were blind. “Mr. David, please calm down. Blake’s parents are sincerely here to seek your understanding.” Mr. Sterling gently brushed the paper scraps from his face, his eyes full of arrogant mockery. “I’ve looked into it. Your daughter only wears clothes that cost a few hundred bucks to school, no brands. I guess your family is just working-class.” “The law says compensation for a fatality is barely a million. And your daughter isn’t even dead. How about two million, plus medical expenses?” “Two million for a family like yours must be a fortune. Saving a hundred thousand a year would take twenty years. Getting two million from one car accident is both my goodwill and your family’s luck. What more could you possibly want? Don’t be so greedy.” I stared at him with boundless hatred and murderous intent, my whole body trembling as I yelled: “Your son was drunk driving and speeding on a pedestrian street, causing three serious injuries and dozens of minor ones! He deserves to spend the rest of his life in prison!” Mr. Sterling feigned a raised eyebrow, then curved his lips into a sneer. “Ever heard the saying, money can solve everything? Besides, I have power backing me. Otherwise, why isn’t there a single ripple about this incident online? Because I…” He raised his hand and made a downward pressing motion. “Paid people to suppress it.” As he spoke, he flashed an exclusive black card again, his pride and arrogance fully on display. “Know what this is? A top-tier global black card. Only those with assets in the hundreds of billions qualify. It’s a number you’ll never even imagine in your lifetime.” Seeing the familiar, unique pattern on the black card, my already shattered heart plummeted. That was the supplementary card I’d given my wife, Valerie! Now, Valerie’s lover wants to use the card I gave him to buy off my daughter’s life! Memories flooded back clearly: A month ago, Valerie had asked for a birthday gift, wanting an expensive car. I agreed. The model matched the one that hit my daughter. Three days ago, the head of PR said Valerie, Ms. Valerie, needed help controlling public opinion. WithBelle injured, I was too distraught to care and silently agreed. In that instant, a metallic taste filled my throat, but I swallowed it back. My eyes were murderous, my voice chilling. “Then how much is your son’s life worth? Name your price. I’ll buy it.”

Mr. Sterling’s face showed a flicker of surprise, then he “hehe-ed” with a laugh. “I know you’re upset your daughter is hurt, but being hotheaded won’t solve your family’s problems. Besides, how much money could you possibly have?” I just stared at him, my gaze grim. “Name your price.” Mr. Sterling looked even more surprised, then seemed to understand. “You think our compensation is too little, huh? How about three million? Any more than that, and your daughter just isn’t worth it.” I repeated myself. “I said, I want to buy your son’s life. Name your price.” He looked me up and down, then burst into laughter, as if joking. “Ten million. If you can afford ten million, you can have my son’s life. Haha, too bad people like you couldn’t save up that much money in this lifetime, let alone the next.” I nodded. “Ten million. It’s a bit expensive for someone like him, but I’ll buy his life.” With that, I sent a message to my assistant. Mr. Sterling scoffed, and even the teachers tried to dissuade me. “Mr. David, snap out of it. Blake’s family isn’t someone you can afford to offend. You might not even be able to pay for your daughter’s medical bills, and you’ll lose your job.” I usually taughtBelle to be modest, but I never expected the teachers at this elite private school to be so disgusting. No one knew I was the chairman behind Veritas Group. Valerie, as CEO, was just a figurehead. “I’ve recorded everything you just said. And I’d like the teachers to be witnesses.” Mr. Sterling was thoroughly annoyed. “Fine, so you refuse to sign no matter what, huh? Then you won’t get a single penny. I’m telling you, my wife has already dispatched Mr. Hayes, Veritas Group’s Chief Legal Expert, he’s never lost a case.” I nodded again. “Perfect.” The surrounding teachers looked at me with extremely strange expressions. “This guy must have gone crazy from his daughter being hit, how pathetic. What a shame, he’s up against the husband of Veritas Group’s CEO. Everyone in New York knows Veritas Group.” As Mr. Sterling grew more triumphant, the parents of another victim arrived. Mr. Sterling repeated the same demands to them. The child’s parents looked torn. The child’s mother cried, “We can’t sign it! Our child is injured all over, how can we just let the perpetrator off? I can’t accept it!” The father sighed, “But treatment costs money. And how can we fight against a wealthy family like theirs? If we don’t sign, we might not get a single cent!” The mother cried even harder. “My poor child, why are you so unlucky?” Just as they hesitated, about to sign, I stood up and stopped them. “Don’t sign. He doesn’t have the money to compensate you. And I’ll cover your children’s medical expenses and all future treatment.” The parents looked at me in surprise. Mr. Sterling glared at me, annoyed and mocking. “What are you talking about? With this black card, two million, even ten million, is a matter of minutes.” Even a teacher grabbed my arm, frowning. “If you don’t take the money, don’t stop others. They’re much wiser than you.” My gaze was ice-cold, but a smile played on my lips. “So confident, huh?” I turned and gripped the father’s hand, looking at their sorrowful faces. Tears streamed down my face. We were all parents. “Have Mr. Sterling swipe the card right now. Otherwise, he doesn’t have the money.” The father squeezed my hand back, nodding through his grief. The elite private school’s finance department quickly brought a POS machine. “Swipe the card first. The school will transfer it to the parents’ accounts.” Mr. Sterling arrogantly raised his hand and swiped the black card on the POS machine. “Your bank card has been frozen.”

He swiped it again, but the mechanical female voice just kept repeating, “Your bank card has been frozen.” “How is this possible?” Mr. Sterling’s eyes widened in shock. The other parents looked at me, grateful. “Thank you for the warning, otherwise we wouldn’t have gotten the money and that jerk would have walked free!” Mr. Sterling, humiliated, irritably ran his fingers through his hair, then dialed Valerie’s number. A young man’s voice answered. “Dad, aren’t you done yet? Mom and I are waiting for you to come back and eat at the new five-star hotel. Are those poor people asking for too much money? Damn it, they’re really trying to take advantage!” “Get your mom on the phone, fast.” Then I heard a familiar voice, a voice that for the past twenty years had said good morning to me every single day. I clenched my fists, my heart bleeding. I swore to send this and their Asshole child to hell! Mr. Sterling hung up, his expression still arrogant. “You’ll definitely get the money, just a bit later. Hurry up and sign.” The parents shook their heads firmly. “We won’t sign. We’ve decided, we want that jerk to pay for what he did!” The mother wiped her tears, her lips trembling with indignation. “How can my daughter’s life hang in the balance while that jerk casually talks about which hotel to eat at? My daughter is a living, breathing person! Our family isn’t rich, but our daughter is our life!” Every word from the mother struck a chord in my heart. I wanted to ask the same thing: How can this be? I patted the father’s shoulder, stating confidently, “Don’t worry about the costs.” Mr. Sterling scoffed. “I’m telling you, my lawyer will be here any minute. By then, you won’t get a single cent. Your children can just wait to die.” Even the teachers tried to help him. “I say, don’t fight with rich people. While Mr. Sterling hasn’t changed his mind, quickly take the money and sign. Do you really believe this man’s crazy talk? If there’s truly no money for treatment, what good are his words? The child’s future will truly be ruined.” The mother trembled with anger. “I’ve never seen so much blood in my life. I keep wondering if all the blood in her body has drained out. I want that jerk to pay blood for blood!” As she spoke, I saw the same horrifying scene in my mind. I swallowed my tears, each one like a knife. Just then, a well-dressed, bespectacled man knocked on the door. Mr. Sterling’s face lit up. “You must be Mr. Hayes, the Chief Legal Expert of the group.” Mr. Sterling was beaming with pride, glancing at us. “My lawyer is here. My son won’t suffer any consequences, and you won’t get a single cent.” The parents clenched their fists, glaring at the newcomer with resentment. I glanced over, a sarcastic curl on my lips. “Oh really?” My people should be arriving soon too.

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Jillian planted 9,999 roses herself to propose to me. When the 9,999th rose finally bloomed, I was moved. On our first day of marriage, I prepared 99 reconciliation coupons. We agreed: whenever she made me angry, she could use one coupon to make amends. Over seven years of marriage, every time she upset me over childhood friend matters, she would hand me a coupon. It wasn’t until the 97th card that Jillian noticed something had changed. I stopped nagging her to be careful or acting like I needed her. I just grabbed her arm when she left me for her childhood friend again and asked, “If you go to him, can I use a card to cancel that decision?” Jillian hesitated for a moment, then looked at me with a helpless sigh. “Go ahead and use it. There’s still plenty left anyway.” I nodded quietly, watching her walk away. She still thought those cards were infinite, that she could keep using them forever. But she had no idea, there are only two remained. Today was the gala for our company’s biggest client. It was also exactly one week after my appendectomy. Jillian’s childhood friend Jason spilled red wine on the client’s CEO. Jillian’s first concern was checking if Jason was okay. Then she turned to me. “Liam, go apologize to Mr. Johnson.” I stared at her in shock. The CEO was dabbing at his suit, clearly furious. “So your company likes dodging responsibility, huh? The one who should apologize is hiding.” Jason’s eyes watered as he leaned on Jillian’s shoulder, acting like he was the one who’d been wronged. Jillian put her hand on his shoulder and fixed me with a serious look. “Why aren’t you apologizing? What are you standing there for?” “Go toast with Mr. Johnson. We can’t let this partnership fall through, no matter what!” She forgot I was still recovering from surgery and strictly forbidden from drinking alcohol. Or maybe she just didn’t care about my health at all. Jason smirked at me with provocation in his eyes. He’d known all along Jillian would push me to take the fall. He also knew Jillian would always protect him, never letting him face the consequences. I wasn’t about to take the blame for his mistake, but Jillian suddenly leaned in and whispered: “One Get Out of Jail Free card.” To marry me, she’d planted those 9,999 roses herself. Each one was supposed to prove her devotion. When the last rose bloomed, I said yes at our engagement party surrounded by family and friends. That’s when she promised: “Liam, you’re the love of my life! If I ever betray you, I swear…” I covered her mouth before she could finish. Watching her make that vow among the flowers, I was completely captivated. Wanting to match her gesture, I had a friend design 99 Get Out of Jail Free cards. I told her, “When these run out, I’m gone for good!” In the early years of our marriage, Jillian guarded those cards like they were gold, terrified I’d cash one in during an argument. But after her childhood friend moved back from overseas, she burned through 97 of them in just one year. This was the 97th. I bent slightly, wincing from the pain in my abdomen as I addressed the CEO. “Mr. Johnson, I sincerely apologize for what happened.” The CEO glanced at me, shaking his head with a sigh—no real hard feelings. As I bowed, I caught Jillian straightening Jason’s collar. “Be more careful next time. What if you’d hit a table corner and gotten hurt?” “Got it, Jill. You always look out for me.” “Always?” Pain spread from my surgical incision, draining the color from my face. Just a little longer. She had two chances left.

After the party, all I wanted was to head straight home, but there was Jillian standing with Jason—they looked like the picture-perfect couple. She turned to me with a cold expression. “Liam, you’ll have to grab a cab back. Jason twisted his ankle; I need to get him to urgent care first.” It was like she’d completely forgotten I was hurt too. Her eyes were filled with worry—for Jason. Back in the day, I would’ve probably gone on about how much pain I was in, begging her to take me to the ER too. I would’ve cried, asking why I had to apologize when I hadn’t done anything wrong. But now, I just nodded quietly. “Sure.” Jillian visibly relaxed, her expression softening slightly. “Liam, be careful getting home alone.” No sooner had she spoken than Jason stepped forward and took her arm. “Jill, my ankle’s killing me. Can we please hurry?” Jillian’s blazer was draped over his shoulders, and he was practically leaning his full weight on her. She didn’t spare me a second glance—even though I was pale and in pain myself. She just helped him to the car and got him settled in the passenger seat. “Stay still, don’t jostle it.” It wasn’t until she’d gotten him settled and was about to drive off that she finally looked over at me standing on the side. “We’ve known each other since we were kids, Liam. He’s basically family. Just head on home.” I managed a faint, bitter smile. “Right. Family.” Afraid she’d think I was mad, I quickly added, “You already used one of our get-out-of-jail-free cards. I’m fine.” Jillian hesitated, as if she wanted to say something. Jason let out an overdramatic groan, and she immediately turned back to him. “We’re leaving now.” With that, Jillian drove off, leaving me standing alone at the hotel entrance. I pulled my jacket tighter against the chill. Once home, I grabbed the reconciliation vouchers from the side table. The stack Jillian used to keep locked safely in a safe now just sat there casually. I stamped the 97th voucher, then pulled out the divorce papers I’d prepared earlier. Having trouble finding a lawyer, I decided to call my old professor. “Professor Hayes, if I’m looking to get divorced, do you have any lawyer recommendations?” Professor Hayes sounded shocked. “Divorce? You? Who’s getting divorced here?” “I remember you two were the campus sweethearts. It’s only been a few years. What happened?” Professor Hayes had even witnessed our proposal. How did we ever get here? There’s no going back now. From the first time she chose others over me. From all the inside jokes she shared with Jason—jokes I couldn’t even join in on. From the nights she stayed out with Jason instead of coming home. A third wheel always spells the end for a relationship. We’d grown too far apart. There was no fixing this. Professor Hayes sighed. “Leave this with me. I’ll have someone reach out soon. Just tell them what you need.” I stared at the last two vouchers in my hand and said slowly, “Okay, thanks Professor.” Jillian walked in just then. “Who were you talking to? Professor Hayes?” She was carrying a shopping bag, which she set on the table. I hung up and turned to her. “Nothing important, just asking about something.” Jillian frowned, eyeing me suspiciously. “What kind of questions? At this hour?” I furrowed my brow. “Nothing important, just some lab data.” She finally sat on the couch and pushed the bag toward me. “Here, this is for you.” The bag was from my favorite French patisserie. Jillian used to bring me desserts from there all the time. That place was always packed—lines out the door daily. She’d wake up early and wait for hours, just because I mentioned wanting to try it once. I never wanted her going through all that hassle. But she’d just kiss my forehead and smile. “If you want it, I’ll get it myself. Even if you wanted the stars, I’d find a way to grab ’em for you.” We really did have some great memories, back in the day. “How did you… What’s this?” I opened the bag. No desserts inside—definitely not what I was expecting. Just a stained shirt and a crumpled bedsheet. I looked at Jillian. She shifted uncomfortably under my stare. “Jason’s clothes got dirty, and the bedsheet has a bad stain. He hurt his hand, so he can’t get it wet. I thought I’d bring them home and ask you to take care of it.” The more she talked, the more defensive she sounded. Her expression hardened. “Don’t be so difficult, Liam. You’re both guys—you get it. If it’s too much trouble, just use another get-out-of-jail-free card.” I couldn’t even find the words to respond. I’d just had surgery myself and couldn’t overdo it, but she didn’t seem to remember that at all. And there she went again, bringing up those stupid vouchers. Only one left. But with that indifferent look on her face, I bit back my objections. Jason’s clothes were expensive tailored suits—each piece needed special care. Looking back, I’d been so naive. All that so-called “thoughtful care” I prided myself on? Honestly, it would’ve been easier to just take them to the dry cleaner.

I left the shirt and sheets by the door to take to the cleaners tomorrow, then headed back to our bedroom. Jillian looked up, smiling when she saw me. “My amazing husband, you took care of that so quickly! That’s Jason’s favorite shirt—make sure it gets perfectly cleaned.” I nodded and reached for my face mask. I also grabbed the iPad from the nightstand to watch something. Jillian was typing furiously on her phone, clearly texting someone. A notification popped up on my iPad. I tapped it and realized Jillian’s iMessages were syncing to my device. “Jill, you’re the best shopper! I haven’t had real desserts like these in forever.” “That place always has such a long line. You must have gone through so much trouble.” Jillian glanced at me, then kept typing. “Glad you liked them. I’ll pick up more next time.” “What can I say? You’re the best little sister!” Jason replied right away: “What about my sheets? Is it really okay to make Liam clean those stains? If he minds, don’t worry about it.” Jillian smiled, looking completely smitten. “It’s fine. Stubborn stains need special treatment, and I can’t stand the thought of you doing it. He’s used to handling this stuff.” I froze, staring at Jillian. Since we got married, I’d handled every chore around the house—from changing lightbulbs to fixing leaky pipes. No wonder she thought I was “used to it.” I set the iPad down, unable to read another word of their conversation. After I washed off my mask, Jillian suddenly leaned in and whispered: “Liam, Jason needs me for something. You get some rest.” I curled up in bed and mumbled a response. As she put on her jacket, I asked quietly: “Jillian, if you don’t come home tonight, I’m using another Get Out of Jail Free card, okay?” I looked at her, my voice cracking with sadness. She didn’t even pause while adjusting her collar. She smiled like always: “Go ahead and use it.” Jillian brushed her hair back, completely unbothered. “I’ll be back soon. You probably won’t even need to use that card today!” Watching her casual attitude, I looked away coldly. “Okay.” It was 10 PM. She’d said she’d be back soon. I ordered my favorite dessert from that bakery using a delivery app. Meanwhile, Jason posted on Instagram, celebrating a date with his girlfriend. Right then, Jillian texted me: “Found Jason. Heading back soon.” It was almost midnight. I pulled up an old post on my phone—the one I made after accepting Jillian’s proposal. I hit “share” to my story. “Time really flies.” Jillian commented with a heart emoji. Then she sent me a photo of an office desk. “Still at work. Miss you.” I closed our chat. I didn’t bother replying. She must have forgotten I took that photo with her phone last month. It wasn’t even taken today. She was lying to me and trying to pacify me at the same time. Jason posted another update, like he was sending me a message: “You promised we’d get married when we grew up. You broke that promise, but said you regretted it.” In the photo, their hands were clasped together—Jillian’s small mole on her index finger was clearly visible. I sat on the couch, watching the proposal video Jillian had made while eating the dessert I’d ordered. The dessert I used to love tasted empty, flavorless. Maybe I didn’t like it anymore. And it wasn’t just the dessert I’d fallen out of love with. Jillian didn’t send any more messages. I put my phone on the coffee table and started packing my things. It was past midnight. I was about to use the last Get Out of Jail Free card. My phone suddenly rang. It was Jillian. “Liam, are you asleep? Don’t wait up. Something came up, and I won’t be home tonight.” “Go ahead and use the card. I’ll bring you dessert tomorrow. I’m busy here, gotta go.” Jillian hung up before I could respond. The dial tone brought me back to reality. As I put my phone back on the coffee table, I knocked over a cup. The custom mug we’d made together after getting engaged shattered into pieces. Maybe it was a sign our relationship should end cleanly too. I opened my messages and found Jillian’s chat. “I didn’t get to tell you earlier, but the Get Out of Jail Free cards are all used up.” “Let’s get a divorce.” My phone immediately started blowing up with calls.

I didn’t answer or reply. I put it on silent and let it buzz beside me. And just like that, our relationship was completely over. At Jason’s apartment, Jillian panicked when she saw that message. She bombarded me with calls and texts. “What are you talking about? There should still be plenty of cards left! Stop being dramatic, okay?” “Is this because I wasn’t home? I’ll explain everything when I get back.” “Why aren’t you answering! Liam, even if you’re mad, you can’t do this.” “Answer the phone! I’m serious!” She couldn’t believe I would just leave like that, sending message after message. After countless calls and texts, dread settled in Jillian’s chest. “How could this happen… We agreed not to fight about this. Why isn’t he answering…” She started remembering how I’d seemed distant every time I used a card. Things that should have made me angry got no reaction at all. Realizing she was losing control, Jillian kept calling as she headed for the door. Jason suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, pressing his face against her back. “Jill, where are you going? You promised to spend the whole day with me.” Jillian pried his arms off, pushed him away, and ran out the door. She sped home, ignoring the speed limits. When she opened the front door, everything looked normal—but she still couldn’t relax. Walking further in, she saw ceramic shards scattered across the floor. She knelt down and picked one up— It was our custom mug. The mug lay shattered, our faces on it broken beyond recognition. She gathered the pieces, then stood up and pushed open the bedroom door to find me. It wasn’t until she saw all my things were gone that reality finally hit her. Jillian sat on the bed, staring at the empty room, completely lost. The iPad’s lock screen was our photo. She reached out, wanting to touch it. She wondered where I could have gone. Where else did I have to go after leaving here? She kept searching, and her eyes landed on something on the table. They were the Get Out of Jail Free cards I’d made—every single one stamped. Her hands shaking, she spread the stack of cards across the table. She tried to rub off the red stamps, but they wouldn’t budge. She counted them—all 99 of them. Jillian remembered our wedding day, when she’d confidently told me: “Liam, I’ll never use a single one of these! I’ll love you forever.” Another memory flashed—her standing next to Jason, impatiently telling me to use a card. Years of love, carelessly thrown away in the year Jason came back. She who once hated seeing me upset had used those cards recklessly, never thinking twice. Every time, she’d used this shortcut to get my forgiveness, then tossed me some gifts as so-called compensation. She never thought our relationship would actually have problems. After all, every time she used a Get Out of Jail Free card, she’d still symbolically buy me something. She saw it as compensation for me and a reward for my “not making a fuss.” With that thought, she opened my closet. Inside, neatly arranged, were all the things she’d given me. I hadn’t taken a single one. A few duplicate shirts, an unworn watch. She thought of the gifts she’d given Jason—she always knew he loved a certain brand of limited edition sneakers. So she’d pre-ordered every new seasonal release and had them delivered to his apartment. Those sneakers cost a fortune, each pair. They were nothing like these thoughtless, generic gifts she’d given me. Seeing it all clearly, Jillian fell silent. How had our once passionate love become so careless? She sat on the couch, unable to sleep all night, slowly piecing together how we’d gotten here. The next day, as soon as Jillian got to the office, Jason followed her in. “Jill, rough night? Here’s your coffee. And this is the new partnership proposal.” Jason set the coffee on her desk and reached to massage her shoulders. She used to love feeling needed like that. But thinking about my leaving, her expression darkened even more. She dodged his hand, pushed the coffee aside, and started looking at the proposal on her desk. As she read through it, she realized it was completely unfocused. It was unreadable—a total mess. If this went to a client, we’d not only lose the partnership but tank the company’s reputation too. Jillian set the proposal down, silent for a moment before speaking: “Who wrote this? How dare they hand me something like this?” “Where’s Liam? Didn’t he review this?”

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My boyfriend, Leo, bailed on my birthday dinner again—this time for his assistant, Chloe. That same day, I quietly submitted an application for a three-year international secondment. He happened to see my application form, but just smirked indifferently. “Trying to get jealous again with these childish tricks? Can you stop being so immature?” He tore up the application, then acted like he was doing me a huge favor by offering to take wedding photos to “make it right.” But it was too late. By the day of the photoshoot, I was already on a plane out of the country. Apparently, the usually calm and composed Leo went completely berserk, wearing his groom’s suit at the airport, frantically calling out my name over and over. “Anya, I can’t believe you’d pull such a childish prank. If Sarah from HR hadn’t clued me in, I might’ve actually bought into this.” “Don’t you get it? People who really want to leave don’t make a big production out of it.” Leo scoffed, ripping the international secondment application into pieces and tossing it in the trash without a second thought. I just stayed quiet, feeling this weird sense of calm wash over me. Tearing it up didn’t matter—the position was already confirmed. He’d actually signed off on it himself just last night. But he was probably too busy having dinner with his assistant, Chloe, to even notice. After all, when he’s with Chloe, she’s the only one who exists. Sarah meant well, I guess—probably thought she was helping by telling him. He thought I was using this as some kind of threat, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. I’d stayed in this city all these years because he wanted me to, passing up countless international opportunities. Now that his heart clearly belonged to someone else, I wasn’t about to just stick around, wasting away beside him anymore. I was about to say something when there was a knock at the front door. Leo didn’t even look at me, just turned to answer it. “Leo.” Chloe stood in the doorway, smiling sweetly as she greeted him. Her gaze shifted to me, and her smile got even sweeter: “Oh, Anya’s here too. My mistake—I wouldn’t have come up if I’d known. Don’t want Anya getting the wrong idea again.” Her tone sounded sincere, but I could still pick up that unmistakable hint of provocation in her words. Right—in the past, after catching him in inappropriate situations with her, I’d argued with him nonstop. But every time, he’d brush me off and keep doing whatever he wanted. The worst was when he spent the night at her place. I couldn’t help confronting him, but Leo slapped me, called me delusional, and made me apologize to both of them in front of everyone. That was the last straw. I finally gave up and stopped caring—but he and Chloe just thought I’d finally learned my lesson, like my previous reactions were just some silly rebellious phase I’d grown out of. I tuned them out and turned to head back to my room. But Leo—unusually—stopped me, his voice lower: “Chloe’s parents are visiting in a few days. She’s worried her apartment’s too small and might make them anxious, so I’m helping her fix it up.” “You know how these young girls are—they can’t really handle things on their own. I just try to help out when I can.” I was a little taken aback. It hit me then, a little late, that Leo was actually *explaining* himself to me. He never used to do that. Back then, I’d have to badger him for answers, only to get eye rolls and attitude in return. But now? I couldn’t care less what they did. “Oh,” I said with a shrug. I almost told him to be careful, but figured he wouldn’t appreciate the advice, so I bit back the words. “Anya, why don’t you come with us? That way you won’t have to worry,” Chloe suggested, her voice dripping with sweetness. I looked at her sugary smile and knew she was doing it on purpose. She’d pulled this move before, and every time it just made Leo more annoyed with me. Even though I didn’t give a damn what Leo thought anymore, I was leaving soon and didn’t feel like dealing with the drama. I was about to say no when, surprisingly, Leo hesitated for a second and then nodded. Chloe’s smile faltered for a split second before she fixed it back in place. Leo said, “Yeah, that works. You can help carry stuff—we’re getting so much, Chloe can’t handle it alone.” I couldn’t help but find it funny—the predictable “of course” moment playing out in my head. “No thanks. I’ve got plans. You two go ahead,” I replied flatly, no emotion in my voice. Leo didn’t care. He gave me a dismissive look, muttered, “Offering you a chance, but you’re just being difficult,” and left with Chloe. Chloe had this triumphant little smirk on her face. As they left, she even waved: “Anya, I’ll be keeping Leo busy for a while!” Her words were obviously meant to get under my skin. But Leo didn’t seem to notice, casually slinging his arm around Chloe’s shoulders like it was the most natural thing. He joked around with her, asking how she planned to treat him to dinner after all his help. Their little display of affection didn’t even register with me anymore. I’d seen this coming ever since Chloe first joined the company. Leo bent all the rules to hire her, then made her his assistant. For two years, she messed up constantly, costing the company millions—but every single time, Leo pointed the blame straight at me. I finally snapped and argued with him, but he just made excuses. “Anya, can’t you see she’s just like you were when you started out?” “You worked so hard to get where you are now. Shouldn’t you help a young talent with so much potential?” That’s when I realized—anything I said after that wouldn’t matter. Leo had already checked out of our relationship. Ding. My phone buzzed. I opened it to a message from HR. [International secondment roster confirmed. Please report as scheduled in three days.]

The message included a list of important instructions. I read through them carefully, then started packing up my apartment. I pulled out my custom guitar—stashed away for years—and strummed it. Still in perfect tune. Leo knew how much music meant to me; it’s how we first connected. Back then, I’d play his favorite songs for him, and we’d travel together. But as time went on, life got busy and stressful. Leo stopped enjoying my playing, so I put the guitar away and focused on work. Later, when things got more comfortable financially, he just kept pulling further away from me. I once suggested we take a trip together, and he got all annoyed. “Anya, how old are you? Can you stop acting like a kid? Why don’t you focus on your career?” But then I found out he and Chloe were using business trips as excuses to hit up arcades, play games at internet cafes, and take scenic boat rides. So it wasn’t that he thought we were too old for fun. He just thought I was too old for his fun. I dug out all my old instruments and called a friend who’d always wanted them. When he heard I was giving them to him, he sounded shocked: “For real? I offered you good money before and you wouldn’t sell. What changed your mind?” I kept it simple: “I’m moving abroad. Can’t take them with me.” “Abroad?” He sounded surprised. “With Leo?” “No, just me.” I told him about the international secondment briefly. He still seemed confused, but finally suggested we get dinner to catch up. I said sure. After we hung up, I kept packing. The photo wall Leo always wanted to take down, the silly pottery we made together that he called childish, the two-seater couch, our matching rings… Before I knew it, it was evening. Leo still wasn’t home. I didn’t do the usual—making dinner and waiting, wondering when he’d walk through the door. Instead, I grabbed my bag and headed out to meet my friend. There were three or four of us—we hadn’t seen each other in almost a year, so they were pretty surprised to see me. “Have you lost weight? You look skinnier than the last time I saw you.” I smiled and didn’t say anything. After a few drinks, everyone was feeling tipsy and talking freely. When my upcoming move came up, one of my drunk friends got really worked up on my behalf. “Anya, I’ve been wanting to say this forever—you should’ve left Leo ages ago! Look at you now, he’s totally messed you up!” “If he hadn’t stolen your research, you’d be way more successful than you are now. He wouldn’t even have a job at your company! All these years, your friends tried to tell you, but you just wouldn’t listen.” The others tried to hush him up quickly. “He’s had too much to drink—don’t take it personally,” one friend said, covering his mouth. I knew why he was reacting like that. After all, the old me would’ve defended Leo no matter what. We’d drifted apart because they once confronted Leo in front of me. Back then, I got mad and stormed off because I didn’t believe them. But that incident was actually what made me realize—suddenly—how Leo had been manipulating me all along. “It’s fine. Leo and I are breaking up anyway.” When I said that, everyone looked shocked. I raised my glass: “Thanks for trying to warn me. I’ll drink to that first.” My friends were worried I was heartbroken and tried to comfort me at first, but they relaxed when they saw how calm I was. After we said goodbye, I went home. I took out my key and was about to unlock the door when it opened from the inside. Leo was standing in the doorway, leaning against the wall, his tall frame rigid. He looked a little upset.

“You went out drinking?” “I called you so many times—why didn’t you answer?” I pulled out my phone and saw he had indeed called repeatedly. The restaurant must have been too loud for me to hear. I told him the truth. His expression softened slightly, though he still looked annoyed. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting?” “Get in here and make me something to eat. I’m starving.” I was a little surprised. In the past, whenever he went out with Chloe, he’d tell me to wait up, but they’d always end up eating out. I’d wait until late, my carefully made dinner getting cold, then reheated, then cold again. Eating that cold food alone, my heart would grow colder too. But when I complained, he’d get annoyed: “Why are you even waiting? I’m not a kid—I can feed myself.” Snapping back to the present, I smiled: “You’re not a kid, Leo. If you’re hungry, fend for yourself.” “If I have to fend for myself, what good are you?” Leo scoffed. But maybe he was in a good mood from his afternoon, because he let it go. “Fine, since you’ve been drinking, I won’t make you cook a whole meal.” “Just make some of that soothing porridge.” “Chloe’s stomach is acting up again. The medicine isn’t helping, and I remember that porridge you used to make worked really well. Make some now.” That’s when it hit me—why he’d actually come home. He used to have a sensitive stomach, so I took a special class to learn how to make that soothing porridge. I even researched ways to improve the texture and flavor to make it more appetizing for him. I learned it to take care of *him*, not to be some free cook making porridge for another woman. I couldn’t help but scoff: “I can’t do that.” “If she’s sick, she should see a doctor. What if something happens after she eats it? Who’s going to take the blame then?” I used to pack Leo’s lunch every day, but then he started sharing it with Chloe. One afternoon, Chloe felt sick—obviously from staying up too late—but Leo blamed me. He said my food wasn’t clean and docked my bonus to compensate her, citing some work mistake. Leo must have remembered that incident too, because he looked a little awkward. He started to say something else, but I walked past him straight into the bedroom. Leo followed right behind: “Anya, come on. Are you still mad about earlier with Chloe?” “Just say what’s bothering you. Why are you being so difficult?” It was always the same. When he couldn’t argue his way out, he’d accuse me of overreacting and refusing to communicate. But I’d tried to talk to him seriously so many times, and every time he’d get mad, call me unreasonable, and shut down the conversation. As he tried to follow me into the room, I locked the door. That really set Leo off—he started banging on the door. I ignored him, got ready for bed, and went to sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night thirsty. When I got up for water, I noticed my phone light up. I checked it and saw Chloe had sent me some messages. [Anya, Leo’s at my place right now. My stomach was acting up, so he came over to take care of me.] There were a few photos attached. The background was Chloe’s apartment. Leo was in loungewear with an apron on, standing in her kitchen, looking totally focused. That’s when I realized Leo hadn’t stayed home—he’d gone to take care of Chloe in the middle of the night. I used to wait on him hand and foot, never letting him lift a finger in the kitchen, and now he was doing all that for another woman. I almost laughed. I knew Chloe sent those messages to get a rise out of me. She’d done this kind of thing a million times before. But it didn’t matter anymore. In two days, I’d be out of their lives for good. I turned off my phone and went back to sleep, dozing off right away. The next morning, Leo was home. He was sitting on the couch with his tablet, looking worn out from pulling an all-nighter. He used to look like this after staying up late chatting with Chloe, and I’d worry about him automatically—only for him to get mad and say I was starting fights. I wasn’t in the mood for his attitude, so I pretended not to notice. After getting ready, I gave him a half-hearted good morning. He seemed distracted though, muttering to himself: “Why does the house feel… empty?” I didn’t say a word. All the stuff I’d gotten rid of was things he’d never cared about anyway. He could feel something was off, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. I ignored him and started to head out when Leo called after me. “Anya, why is there a plane ticket charge on our joint account?” That’s when it clicked. I was still logged into the home tablet, so he could see my recent purchases. I paused, about to answer, when his phone rang. Leo checked the caller ID and his face lit up. He got up and went into the bedroom to take the call. He completely forgot about confronting me. I scoffed to myself—same old story. A few minutes later, he hung up and came out of the bedroom, grabbing his jacket from the hook. He ordered me: “Chloe’s parents are in town. I need to pick them up. Call the office and tell them we’re taking the day off.” I smiled: “I’m not going to the office today. I’m leaving for my international secondment tomorrow—that ticket is for my flight.”

At that, Leo froze while tying his shoe. After a second, he seemed to snap out of it and burst out laughing. “What kind of joke is this? I already tore up your application—there is no secondment.” I started to explain, but Leo’s tone turned icy. “Anya, I know what you’re doing. One little stunt was bad enough, but now you’re doubling down? I’m not going to put up with this.” “I have to admit, you went all out this time—buying a real plane ticket to trick me.” I didn’t say anything. He couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that I might actually leave him, so no amount of proof would change his mind. So why waste my time trying? But my silence just made Leo think he was right—like I’d been caught red-handed. That just made him more sure I was faking it to get attention. He let out a cold snort, grabbed his bag, and headed for the door. He took a few steps, then stopped like he just remembered something. He turned back to me with a sigh, like I was being unreasonable. “Anya, I get why you’re acting like this, but I really have to go. I promised Chloe two days ago—I can’t cancel on her now.” “After today, I’ll cut back on time with her, I promise.” “You want to get married, right? Once this is over, we’ll book the wedding photos tomorrow. We can start planning everything, okay?” As he talked, he reached out to pat my head. Like I was some obedient little pet. It was almost funny. He said he couldn’t break a promise, but he’d stood me up countless times for Chloe—left me waiting alone more times than I could count. He said he’d cut back on time with her, but we’d made that deal before. He broke it every single time. His go-to move was always promising wedding photos. I fell for it every time. And got disappointed every time. He thought this little game—hurting me, then dangling something nice—would work forever. But he didn’t get that it only worked because I still cared. Now that I didn’t love him anymore, all those promises just sounded ridiculous. But I didn’t call him out. I just nodded: “Okay.” Leo looked satisfied, a big smile spreading across his face. “Stay home and be good. I’ll book the appointment now—we’ll do the wedding photos tomorrow.” With that, he headed downstairs. I watched him round the corner, then went back to my room and started throwing all my leftover things down the trash chute. Soon the room was so empty, it was like I’d never lived there. As soon as Leo got home, he’d figure it out. But he didn’t come home. All night, Leo texted me photos: selfies with Chloe and her parents,landscape photo, and pictures of the restaurant where they were eating. He even mentioned some places had great backdrops for wedding photos. I had no idea what he was playing at. But I played along anyway. It was the last time, after all. I’d probably never talk to him again after this. The next morning, I texted Leo to get some rest, then grabbed my suitcase and took a taxi to the airport. Right before boarding, the wedding photography studio called to confirm our session. I hadn’t expected Leo to actually follow through. But I didn’t care anymore. “I’m sorry, but we need to cancel.” I apologized and hung up. I took one last look at the city I’d called home for five years. This time, I didn’t hesitate—I walked straight onto the jet bridge. Leo and I were done. I couldn’t help wondering what his face would look like when he realized *he* was the one getting stood up.

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After being reborn, I’m going to make sure my brother becomes an internet celebrity. My brother, Mike, would prank me daily on his live streams, all to become famous. If I dared to resist, Mom and Dad would scream at me for being ungrateful, for hindering their precious son from becoming a big-time streamer. For a mere $300 viewer challenge, Mike locked me out on the back patio. I cried, telling them my heart condition was flaring up, begging them to let me in. But hearing about my heart condition, Mike even insisted Mom and Dad keep me outside, claiming men were tougher and less susceptible to the cold. That night, the temperature plummeted from over ninety degrees Fahrenheit to fourteen below zero. A terrifying, apocalyptic deep freeze descended. I was frozen to death on that patio. Within a month, the temperature dropped to -139 degrees Fahrenheit, and the entire world was encased in ice. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Mike started his insane live streaming. This time, it was my turn to sit in a warm, safe bunker, enjoying hot food, watching them struggle in a frozen hell!

“Mom, check this out! My prank video with Alex got tons of views. I need to shoot more. Once I blow up and become a huge streamer, I’ll make a ton of money and take you guys on vacation to Florida!” In the living room, my brother Mike held up his phone, proudly showing off to Mom and Dad. Hearing that familiar voice, an involuntary shiver ran down my spine. Even standing in the scorching summer sun, I was trembling. The cold, seeping from the deepest parts of my bones, was uncontrollable—because in my past life, I was frozen alive! I pinched my arm hard until the pain hit, only then truly realizing: I had been reborn. At this moment, Mom and Dad were showering Mike with praise, calling him smart and destined for great things. Then, Mom, Linda, shot me a venomous glare. “Did you hear that, you useless piece of trash? Cooperate with Mike for the videos! If you dare to mess with my son’s chance to get rich, you’ll see how I’ll deal with you!” She’d said those exact words in my previous life. Back then, unwilling to be humiliated like that, I’d privately talked to Mike, hoping he’d switch his live stream content. But he immediately ran to Mom and Dad, teary-eyed, complaining that I was just jealous and couldn’t stand to see him succeed. Dad, Robert, instantly exploded, cursing me as a jinx, saying I was just envious that good fortune was finally coming to our family. Mom pointed a finger right in my face, calling me a good-for-nothing and trying to stop her son from becoming a huge internet celebrity. Later, for a $300 “challenge” donation on Mike’s live stream, they locked me out on the back patio. Even when I cried, saying my heart condition was acting up, begging them to let me in, they all remained indifferent. Mike even yelled excitedly, “A heart condition? Even better! Viewers love that! Dad, hurry and lock him out! My stream’s popularity is skyrocketing!” In the end, they locked me outside. I had planned to leave that house immediately after this incident blew over. But that very night, the temperature plunged from over ninety degrees to fourteen below zero, and a terrifying, apocalyptic deep freeze instantly descended. I pounded frantically on the glass door, begging them to open it. My hands were red and swollen, skin raw, but they wouldn’t budge. Desperate to survive, I threw my body against the glass door, causing cracks to appear. Mike saw it and immediately screamed at Dad to block the door with a heavy dining cabinet. Inside, where it was warm as spring, Mike, wearing a T-shirt, licked a popsicle and smiled at me through the glass. “Alex, you’re a grown man, what’s there to be afraid of in the cold?” I clawed at the door frame with my bleeding, mangled fingers, my voice hoarse. “Mike, please… my medication is inside… I’ll die if this continues…” But Mike just turned his phone camera on me and told his live stream audience, “See, guys? They say men are tough and can handle the cold. My brother here is still kicking, isn’t he?” His malice completely froze my heart. Eventually, I ran out of strength and died miserably on the patio, my tears freezing on my face. Thank goodness for this second chance. Now, outside, it was still a scorching summer day, cicadas chirping piercingly, with no sign of the apocalypse. But I knew that in exactly one week, the temperature would plummet to fourteen below zero, getting colder day by day, until it reached -139 degrees Fahrenheit, freezing the entire world solid. The fire of revenge burned fiercely in my chest. This time, I would make them pay.

I swallowed my hatred, feigning obedience, and replied, “Mom, I’ll cooperate with Mike for the videos.” My mother, Linda, seemed a bit surprised by my docility, but her harsh expression didn’t soften one bit. She still barked at me, “Useless good-for-nothing! Can’t you see it’s almost dinner time? Why are you just standing there like an idiot? Go make dinner!” I clenched my fists, my nails almost digging into my palms, constantly reminding myself: It’s not time yet, I have to be patient. I turned and quietly walked into the kitchen. As soon as dinner was ready, Dad, Robert, came home. I had just washed my hands and was about to sit down to eat when he kicked my leg. “Eat what?! The convenience store shelves are empty! Get down there and restock!” I suppressed the pain and muttered, “Okay,” grabbed the keys from the shoe rack, and headed straight downstairs without looking back. That convenience store was the fruit of my labor for many years. Since I opened it, not one of the three of them had held a proper job; they all lived off the store. The heaviest work, like stocking and organizing, was dumped entirely on me. To cover expenses, I worked another job during the day and came back at night to arrange the shelves. No one knew better than I where every single item in that store was. After quickly restocking, I grabbed an energy bar and a bottle of water and went into the back storage room. After a quick bite, I immediately pulled out my phone and called my wife, Lisa, who was away on a business trip. When Lisa’s familiar voice came through the receiver, my eyes immediately welled up. In my previous life, after my horrific death, Lisa called me countless times, but no one ever answered. She then called Dad, Robert, asking about my whereabouts. Afraid of exposure, Robert used my phone to reply to Lisa, making her believe I was still alive. Later, as temperatures plummeted and the deep freeze apocalypse arrived, Lisa anxiously texted me, asking if I could find a way to send some supplies. The weather had become terrifying, and she couldn’t buy anything where she was. At that time, Mike happened to see Lisa’s messages and immediately instigated Dad to swindle money from her. The father and son quickly agreed, fabricating a lie about me being critically injured in the hospital and needing urgent surgery funds. They even had Mike wear a wig and my clothes, pretending to be me, weakly lying in a hospital bed in a video call. Lisa believed them, frantic with worry, and immediately transferred all her savings. Once they had the money, they completely dropped their pretense. Robert called Lisa on FaceTime directly, and on camera, he and Mike openly mocked her stupidity, calling her an easily duped fool. “Your man froze to death long ago! His body’s right in the backyard!” Mike shrieked, even turning the camera to my frost-covered corpse in the backyard. Finally, Lisa was so enraged that she suffered a fatal heart attack. Recalling this, I almost crushed my phone. In this life, I would never let that tragedy repeat.

Thinking of this, my voice choked slightly as I called out, “Lisa.” Lisa, thinking I was upset about something, quickly comforted me and even said she’d come to me immediately. I shook my head, saying I wasn’t upset. In the last life, Lisa was horribly wronged by Mike and Dad; in this life, I would definitely not let that father-son duo get away with it! But I wouldn’t let Lisa get involved just yet. She just needed to be in a safe place while I arranged everything. Still, Lisa didn’t believe I wasn’t upset, so I changed the subject. “Lisa, can you rent that vacant house in the Lakeside community?” The previous owner of that house was a prepper. He’d built a reinforced bunker beneath it specifically for extreme situations. That house was in the suburbs and had been on the market for a long time. In the future, the extreme weather would reach -139 to -148 degrees Fahrenheit. By then, having food and water wouldn’t be enough; a safe shelter would be crucial. Although Lisa didn’t quite believe extreme weather would hit, especially with the sun blazing outside, she still did as I asked. After hanging up with Lisa, I contacted U-Haul. Under the guise of restocking the convenience store, I secretly transported some items from the warehouse to Lisa’s place. There was about a week until the deep freeze apocalypse. Using this time, I could move a portion each day, secretly emptying the entire warehouse. In this life, it was my turn to be in the safety of a bunker, watching their miserable end!

By the time I finished all that, it was already dark outside. I had just gone upstairs, and before I even entered the door, I heard Mike’s fake laughter. “Alex, look, this guy is just as stupid as you!” Pushing the door open, I saw the “happy family” scene. Everyone revolved around Mike, doting on him like a prince. Mike was Mom and Dad’s youngest, doted on excessively. Mom especially adored Mike, treating him like the apple of her eye. Dad also spoiled Mike, saying he was Mike’s eternal support, and with him around, Mike would never have to work a day in his life. Hearing the door open, the family turned to look at me. As soon as Mom saw me, her face hardened, and she immediately snapped, “Why are you standing there like a useless doorstop? You scared me!” Mike held his phone in one hand and a bowl of fruit salad in the other, walking towards me. “Alex, I forgot to save you any dinner. Here, have some fruit to tie you over.” I looked at Mike, who was smiling with malicious intent. In my previous life, I had unsuspectingly eaten it, only to find the fruit salad contained mango, to which I was severely allergic. My whole body broke out in hives. Mike, meanwhile, held up his phone and laughed hysterically, telling his live stream audience, “Guys, my dumb brother ate it! Look, he’s having an allergic reaction!” Mom chimed in with a laugh, “Our Mike is so smart, making this good-for-nothing look ridiculous.” Dad pointed at me, saying I looked disgusting. At that moment, my heart turned completely cold, and I realized I couldn’t stay in this family, stirring thoughts of leaving. But soon after, the deep freeze apocalypse hit. This time, if they could prank me for a $300 donation, they could certainly prank someone else for the same amount. I decided to test them. I pretended to have a stomachache, bending over and saying, “My stomach feels off, I need to use the restroom first.” But Mike insisted I eat before I went. I pushed Mike away and hurried to the restroom. Mom cursed from behind, “Always making excuses when there’s trouble! Useless!” I ignored Mom’s words, because soon she would taste the bitter fruit. In the restroom, I pulled out my phone and entered Mike’s live stream. I directly spent $300 to post a challenge task in Mike’s live stream—prank your own mom. At the same time, I commented: Getting tired of watching you prank your brother. Let’s see something fresh, prank your own mom for kicks. I wanted to see just how strong their so-called family bond truly was. Sure enough, the next second I heard Mike excitedly tell everyone, “Dad, Mom, look! Someone just donated to my stream! I’m going to be a big streamer soon!” In my previous life, Mike had been equally excited and thrilled when he received a donation notification. The whole family had also showered him with praise. Mom even clapped her hands for Mike, saying how amazing he was, how her son was different, much more useful than me. In the family’s happy and harmonious atmosphere, Mike handed the bowl of fruit salad, laced with mango, to Mom. “Mom, you should eat this bowl of fruit salad. The challenge task is to prank my own mom.” I saw Mom’s face instantly go pale.

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“Stop… It’s too deep… I can’t take it!” A handsome man had me pinned beneath him, unable to move. His voice was tender, but his movements were anything but. “Baby, I’m only halfway there.” After catching my Commander husband cheating, I started seeing a Hollywood actor. Young blood, indeed. Eight-pack abs, 8.5 inches, and moves in bed I’d never even dreamed of. The next day, a video of the actor and me having sex went viral across the entire military base. My husband, Ryder, came to find me, his eyes bloodshot. “Where did he touch you?” I smiled carelessly. “My lips, my chest, my inner thighs… every place you used to love, he touched.” A storm brewed in his eyes, veins bulging in his neck. “Get her out of my sight!” I frowned, annoyed. “You cheated with your subordinate; I fell for my lover. We’re even. What right do you have to tell me what to do?” Three months ago, I returned home early from a mission, hoping to surprise Ryder Vance. Instead, I found him pinning Sara Lee against the window, moving wildly, whispering her name, “Sara.” From that moment on, that name became my nightmare. Because my name, Sarah, sounded so similar to hers. It hit me then: whenever Ryder and I had sex before, he’d always been calling out another woman’s name. My stomach churned. I pushed him away, stumbling into the bathroom, throwing up violently. Ryder quickly followed, his voice concerned. “Sarah? What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?” I looked up, my eyes burning. “Ryder, just now… were you calling out Sara’s name, or mine?” His face instantly paled. The next moment, he kicked over a nearby chair. “Sarah! I told you, you’re the one I love, the one I chose!” He snatched up his clothes, pulling them on, and the door slammed shut with a thunderous bang. I pushed open the window and watched him stride across the yard, jumping into his military SUV. The engine idled for a long time until a distinctive ringtone cut through the silence. It was Sara Lee calling. I froze. The day he “returned” to our family, he’d supposedly deleted all her contact information right in front of me. When… when did he save it back? My cold fingertips tapped open the dashcam footage on my phone. Inside the car, Ryder stared at the blinking “Sara Lee” on the screen, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel, veins bulging. The ringing continued until the last second before he abruptly hit ‘answer.’ “Speak.” Only muffled sobs came from the other end, like a wounded animal. After a long moment, Sara’s choked voice whispered, “Ryder, I miss you so much.” Ryder’s breathing suddenly hitched. The engine roared to life, and the SUV sliced through the night like a sharp blade. The night wind howled, but it couldn’t blow away the frost in my heart. I saw my reflection in the glass, tears streaming down my face. The car soon stopped outside an officer’s apartment building. Rustling sounds came through the dashcam, followed by Sara’s whimpering moans, “It hurts…” “Bear with it, even if it hurts,” his voice was hoarse, almost unrecognizable. The woman’s broken sobs continued, “Ryder, I love you…” Then came urgent gasps and the sound of frantic kissing. Again and again, so desperate, so wild. I stood by that window all night, listening to the passionate sounds of my husband with another woman. Only when the morning light broke did I manage to move my frozen body, retrieving the divorce papers from the bottom of our safe. He had signed them that day he returned to me, under my coercion. If he ever cheated again, all his assets and properties would automatically transfer to me. But even the strictest terms couldn’t bind a straying heart. I signed my name, stroke by stroke, and headed straight to the military legal office with the papers. The lawyer carefully reviewed them, then looked up at me. “Ms. Stone, once this is filed, your marriage will be officially dissolved.” Walking back home on shaky legs, Ryder was already waiting. Seeing me, he let out a sigh of relief, his voice tinged with both fear and reproach. “Where have you been? Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” I gave a sarcastic smirk. “What, afraid I’d try to jump off a cliff again?”

His face instantly darkened, his impatience palpable. “Sarah! Stop threatening me with death! What else can you do besides torture me with these tactics?” My steps faltered, and I stared at him, stunned. When I first witnessed his affair, I couldn’t cope. Every time the image replayed in my mind, I’d throw up violently. In just seven days, I’d lost over fifteen pounds. I cursed him with the cruelest words, slapped him dozens of times, and left a permanent scar on his shoulder with a scalpel. He knelt in the hallway of the military hospital, admitting his wrongs in front of all his colleagues. But I still couldn’t sleep. After more than ten days of sleepless nights, I had a mental breakdown and accidentally fell off a cliff. I spent a week in the ICU, barely clinging to life. Since then, he’d been almost inseparable from me, enduring my anger and abuse, constantly watchful. So, in his mind, all of that was just my way of fighting for attention? Ryder looked at my bloodless face, his tone softening slightly. He turned and retrieved a takeout box from his jeep. “Your favorite strawberry pudding. I drove halfway across the city to get it.” I looked at the familiar packaging, my stomach twisting. On the dashcam footage, Sara’s soft, playful voice was still ringing in my ears: “Ryder, I’m hungry…” He had specifically driven to buy her a chocolate lava cake; the strawberry pudding was just an afterthought, an extra dessert. My voice was tired. “I don’t like that flavor anymore.” After ten years, I was already sick of it. I’d only kept eating it before so as not to waste his gesture. Just as I was about to turn away, he grabbed my wrist sharply. His voice was irritated and impatient. “Sarah! How long are you going to keep this up? I’ve already…” He didn’t finish his sentence before darkness swallowed my consciousness. When I woke again, I was in bed. Downstairs, faint voices drifted up. I leaned against the wall, slowly making my way down the stairs. By the front door, Ryder’s back was stiff. “How did you find me here?” Sara, in a white dress, looked up at Ryder with a pitiful expression. “Headquarters wouldn’t let me in, and you didn’t reply to my texts… Ryder, are you going to abandon me again?” Her fingers carefully clutched his sleeve. “Ryder, you explicitly told me you loved me.” Ryder abruptly took a half-step back, his voice incredibly low. “Please leave, Sara. Sarah is still sick, and I don’t want to upset her. Whatever it is, we can talk on the phone…” Before he could finish, Sara suddenly stood on her tiptoes and threw herself into his arms, kissing him fiercely. Ryder’s hands hovered in the air, his move to push her away hesitating when his fingers brushed her trembling shoulders. Gradually, the initially restrained kiss grew urgent, until he was breathing heavily, pinning her against the doorframe. “See?” Sara’s voice was laced with triumphant pride. “Your body is more honest than your mouth.” “You don’t love her anymore, Ryder. Staying with her out of obligation only hurts all three of us.” Ryder’s voice was filled with suppressed pain. “I can’t…” With a loud bang, I forcefully pushed open the door. Two startled gazes instantly shot my way. “Sarah!” Ryder instinctively wiped his mouth. I walked past him, directly towards Sara, grabbing her hair. I slapped her three times, hard. “You tramp! How dare you show your face here, you pathetic wretch!” Blows rained down, mixed with Sara’s cries and pleas. Until Ryder grabbed my wrist, his grip so strong it felt like my bones would shatter. “Enough!” He flung me away, and the momentum sent me crashing hard against the steel coat rack by the entrance. A warm liquid immediately welled up on my forehead. Through a blurry red haze, I saw Ryder rush over, carefully scoop Sara into his arms, and quickly carry her out. “Don’t be scared, Sara, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

I watched their figures disappear, my mind drifting back to when I was eighteen. On a snowy night during new recruit training, he snuck an armored vehicle out to show me the stars. On the frosted window, he wrote, “Ryder Vance will only ever love Sarah Stone.” I breathed on the glass, asking, “What if you break your promise?” He kissed me, cupping the back of my neck, his camo uniform brushing my cheek. “I won’t. I only want you.” I slid down the cold wall, slowly sinking to the floor, tears mingling with blood. I laughed hollowly, murmuring, “Ryder, you liar!” I woke up in the hospital. Outside my room, a crowd was gathered around the room next door, whispering and pointing. Inside, Brenda Vance, Ryder’s mother, was fuming. “I wondered why Sarah collapsed at home! You weren’t there to watch over her; turns out you were here protecting this… this woman!” She turned to the two security officers behind her. “What are you waiting for? If she wants to act like a tramp, then let her! She likes being a mistress, she likes sleeping her way up? Go! Strip her clothes off!” The security officers stepped forward, but Ryder swiftly moved to block them. His shoulder strap was askew, his eyes bloodshot. “Today, anyone who touches her will have to answer to me, Ryder!” Brenda, enraged, hurled her purse at him. A metal clasp cut his forehead, a bead of blood seeping into his thick eyebrow. Sara, who had been cowering behind Ryder, suddenly rushed out, falling to her knees on the cold tile floor with a thump. “Mrs. Vance! It’s all my fault! Punish me, please, but don’t hurt Commander Vance!” Ryder, who hadn’t flinched when he was hit, now his face instantly changed. He hastily bent down to pull Sara up. “What are you doing? Get up now.” The two of them tangled together, embracing like a pair of star-crossed lovers pushed to their limits. Through the shifting figures, Ryder’s gaze met mine. He let go of Sara as if electrocuted. “Sarah…” I pushed through the crowd, putting my hand on Brenda’s trembling arm. “Just forget it.” Those three words seemed to drain all my strength. I led Brenda, still furious and trying to hit Sara, back to my own hospital room. Ryder followed. His voice was hoarse, as if he was making an immense compromise. “Sarah, it’s my fault. I didn’t control myself.” “I’ll apply for a transfer away from her. From now on… I’ll make it up to you. Please, stop bullying her.” I was speechless. Bullying. What a ridiculous word. As if I were some villain tearing apart true lovers. No sooner had he finished speaking than a young nurse’s scream echoed from outside. “Patient in Room 302 tried to slit her wrists!” Ryder’s face instantly changed, and he turned to leave. Brenda blocked the doorway. “You try to walk out today!” He shoved her aside, rushing towards the door. I staggered, crashing into the IV pole, the needle tearing from my hand, leaving a crimson trail. Brenda quickly knelt to support me, tears streaming down her face. “Sarah…” Tears in my own eyes, I whispered, “Brenda, I’ve already submitted the divorce papers to the Department of Military Affairs.” After seeing Brenda off, I returned to my hospital bed. My phone suddenly pinged with a notification. I opened it to find Sara Lee’s secondary account had updated. She posted three photos. The first showed two hands clasped together. The second was a shot of Ryder’s gentle profile, focused on peeling a pear for her; The third showed her leaning against Ryder, looking up and kissing him. The caption read: [Military relationships are tough, but true love never fears waiting. I, this persistent gambler, have finally won back my hero. From now on, you’re mine.] Below, Ryder’s secondary account replied almost instantly: [Yes, forever yours.] I stared at that reply, feeling a strange sense of settled relief wash over me. With a light tap, I unfollowed and blocked both their secondary accounts, then uninstalled the tracking app and dashcam app I’d used to monitor Ryder’s movements. Four months after Ryder supposedly returned to our family, I finally… broke free from my obsession with him.

The next morning, I packed my things to check out of the hospital. As I was carrying my luggage downstairs, Ryder suddenly rushed up to me. His eyes were bloodshot. He grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight it felt like he was going to crush my bones. “Where’s Sarah? What have you done with Sara Lee?!” I was furious and in pain, struggling to pull away. “How would I know where she is? Let go of me!” Ryder scoffed in rage. “You don’t know? Who else would target her but you?!” He abruptly pulled out his phone and played a blurry surveillance video. In the footage, Sara was stabbed in the abdomen and collapsed in a small alley, blood pooling beneath her. Ryder watched the video, his eyes brimming with anguish, his voice taking on a pleading tone. “Sarah, I’m begging you, let her go. I shouldn’t have betrayed you, but please, once I get her out, I’ll make her transfer and leave the military, I’ll never contact her again. Just tell me the address, if we wait any longer, she’ll be in danger!” The last time he had begged me like this was when I was clinging to life after falling off the cliff. Then, he held me, crying, begging the doctors to save me. Lost in thought, I shook my head expressionlessly. “It wasn’t me. I really don’t know where she is.” Ryder’s face grew cold, inch by inch. “You’re really not going to tell me?” He suddenly sneered, dragging me by the wrist towards his military SUV parked on the roadside. I desperately struggled, trying to open the car door, but he just pressed the central lock. The next second, he pulled out a military knife and slashed my arm hard. “Ah!” Excruciating pain ripped through me, and blood instantly soaked my sleeve. Ryder’s eyes were bloodshot, his voice as cold as ice. “Tell me the address!” I was trembling all over. “I told you… I don’t know…” Our eyes met, and the ruthlessness in his gaze was like a poisoned dagger, stabbing my heart again and again. Before I could react, the military knife slashed my arm a second time, then a third… “Speak! The address!” he roared, demanding an answer with every cut. Blood streamed down my arm, dripping onto the car seat, blooming into shocking red stains. I curled up in pain, my tear-blurred eyes fixed on his cold profile. “I really don’t know… Ryder, how could you do this to me…” Time ticked by, and with each passing second, Sara’s danger increased. Ryder completely lost control. He clamped his hands around my throat, the hatred in his eyes terrifying. “Are you only satisfied if she dies? Where is she?! Where have you hidden her?! Speak, Sarah!” My vision swam with black spots, my breathing grew increasingly difficult. In my blurring consciousness, I could only weep silently: “I regret it so much… how could I have ever loved you…” Just when I thought I was about to suffocate, Ryder’s military communicator suddenly rang. He abruptly let go of me, frantically answering. “Major General Vance! Lieutenant Lee has been found!” Ryder’s eyes instantly lit up. “I’m on my way!” He hung up and then brutally kicked me out of the car. Ryder looked at me through the car window, his eyes cold. “You better pray Sara is okay, or I won’t let you off the hook!” When I woke up again, I was in a VIP private room at the military hospital. Due to severe blood loss, doctors had worked for a full day and night to pull me back from the brink of death. My arm was thickly bandaged, and over a dozen scars of varying depths were faintly visible through the gauze, each one a testament to Ryder’s brutality. Just outside the door, I overheard nurses discussing Ryder’s overwhelming devotion to Sara. To save her, he had summoned all the hospital’s specialists for her treatment. While she was in surgery, he disregarded regulations, personally going to St. Jude’s Chapel to pray for her safety. While she was unconscious, he stayed by her bedside night after night without blinking, watching over her. I listened in silence, my heart completely calm, no longer stirred. I completed the discharge procedures and requested a full injury report from the hospital. Just as I reached the hospital entrance, my lawyer’s call came through. “Ms. Stone, the divorce has been finalized. According to the agreement, Commander Vance’s military housing, personal honorarium, and other assets will all be transferred to your name within a week.” I looked up at the high-hanging sun in the sky. I offered a faint, fleeting smile, then calmly said, “Please send Ryder’s divorce certificate to him, cash on delivery.” After the lawyer acknowledged, my gaze fell on my bandaged arm, and my voice chilled slightly. “Also, file a lawsuit against Ryder for aggravated assault, with no possibility of settlement.” The moment I stepped onto the plane, I expressionlessly removed my phone’s SIM card, broke it, and tossed it into the trash can. Ryder, eight years of marriage, our feelings completely severed.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “342250”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #擦边Steamy #重生Reborn