Category: English

1 The blood pact I signed seven years ago finally expired today. Wilson Wilder and I would soon become complete strangers. She was probably still recalling my past fits of rage when I caught her cheating—smashing things, screaming, raising hell. But she didn’t know, everything was different now. When I suddenly came home, I walked in on Wilson Wilder having sex with another man in my car. This time, she made no attempt to hide it. Instead, she rolled down the window, leaned out, and gently covered the man behind her with a wool blanket. From the back seat, I heard the rustle of clothes. She shielded the man even more carefully, then turned back to whisper, “Don’t be scared.” Then she looked at me, a flicker of unease in her eyes, and asked, “Weren’t you supposed to be at your MBA class today? Why the sudden return?” … I yanked open the car door. The back seat was a mess: ripped black stockings, used condoms. A wave of nausea hit me. I gagged uncontrollably. “Why bring someone into this car?” Wilson Wilder calmly buttoned her shirt. She glanced at my car. “It was the most convenient place. Didn’t think much of it.” “Couldn’t exactly bring him home, could I, darling?” The man in the car scrambled out, stumbling pitifully in front of me. “Mr. Wilder, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t control myself…” I stood there, arms crossed, unmoving. “Get out.” I wouldn’t lift a finger for her anymore. But that didn’t mean I’d be kind to the man who’d slept with my wife. Even if she wouldn’t be for much longer. As he ran off, I gave him a dismissive glance. Early twenties, clean-cut college kid. Her type. Clean background, simple life, high achiever. Everything I wasn’t. Which one was this? I stopped counting years ago. I called my butler: “To the garage. Smash the car.” Old Thomas smashed it with restraint. His hammer, wrapped in suede, landed with a dull thud, like bone breaking within flesh. Then came the sharp crack of shattering glass. Wilson Wilder got out of the car, pulled me into her embrace, and gently ruffled my hair. Like soothing an agitated cat. I pulled away, leaned against the wall, and lit a cigarette. Didn’t smoke it. In the flickering light of the cigarette, the obsidian Bentley became a heap of scrap. She followed me inside. Her hand circled my waist. “Julian, don’t be mad. I’ll get you a new car?” “My husband didn’t hit anyone. That’s progress.” She pinched my cheek, a hint of surprise in her tone. “Just play nice, and no one can threaten your position.” “It’s your birthday today. Seven years you’ve been with me in Kingsport.” She magically produced a gift box. Hermès, rare leather. I wasn’t surprised. Inside the bag, however, lay a “Python” revolver. Out of instinct, I released the cylinder, pulled back the hammer, and checked the chamber. Empty. I paused, bringing the gun to my nose. No gun oil smell, just an industrial scent. Fake. I tossed the gun back into the bag, my eyes hardening completely. She lay back on the sofa, hands behind her head. “It’s just a toy, a memento of your past. Be good from now on, no more playing with weapons.” Her tone was light. The glory my past had brought her, dismissed in a single breath. Seven years. My heart had long turned to ash. I pulled out the drafted divorce papers. “Wilson Wilder, sign it.” “From now on, we go our separate ways.” A fleeting, almost imperceptible panic crossed her eyes. Then she smiled, more relaxed. “Julian, we can’t be separated in this life. Have you forgotten?” “I shouldn’t have done it in your car. Don’t say things you don’t mean.” She hugged me from behind, her cheek rubbing my forehead. “I’ve got a birthday surprise for you. Let’s go out.” She tried to take my hand. I sidestepped, avoiding her touch. She seemed to have forgotten. Back then, she was just a small-time dealer. Wanting to start her own business, she refused my money, then turned around and stole goods from my sister’s rival. “Mad Dog” Hayes put out the word. One of her hands, and the debt would be clear. Or, the Wilder family could sign a blood pact. My sister refused. I bit my finger, pressing my blood print onto that pact. By gang rules, she and I could never be separated in this life. A pact that compromised the Wilder family’s reputation and dignity, binding her and me together. Until this morning, when Mad Dog Hayes dropped dead in a brothel. As I changed, I sent that text. “Sis, pick me up in Avalon in two days.” 2 To avoid complications, my sister and I agreed to keep everything as usual before I left. In the living room, Wilson Wilder took off the shirt still carrying the scent of another man. On her pale, slender body, the dark scar of a gunshot wound on her right shoulder. Like a cigarette burn on snow. My first year in Kingsport, my enemies from Avalon came seeking revenge. She took that bullet for me. When did the woman who’d risked her life for me begin to change? I couldn’t fathom it, and I no longer cared to try. Silently, I got into her car. My thoughts drifted back seven years. Hayes’s stronghold. Mad Dog Hayes put away the pact. “Gutsy. This matter is forgotten.” He smiled at my sister, revealing a mouth full of yellow teeth. “Your brother is bound to that lowlife who stole my goods for life. He’s not allowed back in Avalon, not allowed to touch a single cent of your Wilder family money.” “The streets are watching, see what kind of trash Eleanor Wilder’s only kin ended up with!” That year, the woman I loved to my core wept before me. She trembled all over, yet clutched my hand tightly. She swore I would never regret this decision. But now… “Darling, we’re here.” The car stopped at Kingsport Maternity Hospital. Outside the patient room, she whispered, “Be gracious in a moment.” I had already guessed nine tenths of it. But seeing the tiny pink bundle in the man’s arms, my heart still skipped a beat. Adam Schwarz. Her personal assistant. Long-term lover. “Julian, I didn’t want to have a child with another man either.” Her voice was very low. “You can’t have children. I don’t blame you. But I need an heir.” “The child will call you Dad too. When you’re old, he’ll be someone to rely on.” Adam Schwarz nodded, full of agreement. “Brother, Wilson has always wanted a child. You should let her have this.” Mr. Schwarz, Adam’s father, walked in to check on the baby. He was a renowned obstetrician. He held up a miniature Hermès horse toy, teasing the infant in a falsetto voice. Wilson Wilder and Adam Schwarz leaned in, heads together, laughing around their son. I laughed out loud. “Poor folks sure know how to make every penny count, treating designer accessories like treasure.” Adam Schwarz caught sight of the rare leather bag in my hand, and his face darkened. Mr. Schwarz, however, remained calm and composed. “Mr. Wilder, I know you were a gangster in Avalon. But this is Kingsport; please show some class.” I couldn’t be bothered with him. He thought I was tacitly accepting his paternalistic tone. “It’s understandable you’re ill-mannered, with both your parents gone.” Parents gone. A damp, rainy day. Wilson Wilder deliberately avoided my gaze, playing with her son’s chubby little hands. I raised my hand and slapped Mr. Schwarz across the face. As he shrieked, I displayed the diamond ring on my ring finger: “As long as I’m still married, your son is still the side piece. Your grandson will always be a bastard.” “You, the side piece’s dad, are not fit to speak of my parents.” Adam Schwarz wailed, clutching his father. Wilson Wilder symbolically pulled me towards the door. Words she had spoken six years ago surfaced. “Julian, you have no mother, no father; you only have me.” Barely a year into our marriage, she began cheating. I was inherently proud; I couldn’t swallow the humiliation. I was hysterical. But I had nowhere to go. With that sentence, she made me face reality. Now, it was uttered again from my “father-in-law’s” mouth. A gust of wind from behind. My scalp prickled with pain. Adam Schwarz rushed forward, grabbing my hair and yanking it back forcefully. He held me, shoving me violently towards the corner of the table. “Bang!” My hip slammed against the table’s edge, clenching my insides with pain. Wilson Wilder instinctively leaned forward, wanting to help me. But Adam Schwarz grabbed her arm, fiercely blocking her. “Don’t you dare go!” Wilson Wilder didn’t step forward. Good. I smiled to myself. Anyway, we were ending this. 3 I had a dream of falling endlessly. I dreamt of being nineteen. I told her that when I was fifteen, I took a knife for my sister from some enemies, the blade piercing my back. I lay in the hospital for half a year. When I got out, my studies were completely ruined, so I dropped out. She trembled as she kissed the snake-like scars on my body. She saved her meal money, running all over the city’s bookstores to pick out textbooks for me. In the dim yellow light of our rented room, she held me, teaching me word by word from books I no longer understood. She said I was hers. Inside and out, for life. I dreamt of being twenty-one, on her birthday. I learned from the elders back home, and personally made her a nourishing chicken and fish maw soup. Her office door wasn’t fully closed. Soft moans drifted out. I kicked the door open. Wilson Wilder was naked, her long hair swaying. Adam Schwarz was behind her. The chicken soup splattered over both of them. Wilson Wilder was unfazed, helping him wipe off the traces. “Work stress, darling. You understand.” I smashed the office to pieces. She didn’t even blink. But when I picked up a glass shard and walked towards Adam Schwarz. She shielded him. “Anything, come at me. Adam and those other men are different.” Young and hot-headed, I severely beat Adam Schwarz with my bare hands. The Schwarz family threatened to sue me; she used every means, soft and hard, to suppress it. The cost was her not coming home for a year. “Julian, you disappoint me so much.” Her betrayal had been foreshadowed. She said I didn’t understand her as those other men did. She stopped teaching me long ago, pulling strings to enroll me in an MBA program. I didn’t understand those coding algorithms, those capital models. But I once believed so deeply. I understood the weight of two hearts relying on each other. I understood how to bet on a woman before she made her fortune. My biological father died at a card table. Turns out I was just another gambler with poor luck. … “Sir.” Thomas’s voice pulled me back. He was covered in wounds. My phone was handed to me. 【WilderTech to be renamed SchwarzTech tomorrow】 【Wilson Wilder convenes board meeting to transfer 10% shares to Adam Schwarz】 I had trusted her, only holding 8%. She ensured Adam Schwarz always outranked me. Thomas pulled out a crumpled invitation. Tonight’s gala, official announcement of the change. I quickly bandaged his wounds. Some matters needed to be settled before I left. “Thomas, the Wilder family has a saying.” Old Thomas smiled at me. “Today she eats the bitter fish and endures the thirst. Tomorrow, someone else will settle the score with her.” 4 I drove straight to the banquet hall. No one dared to stop me. Wilson Wilder looked surprised: “Julian, aren’t you supposed to be home recovering?” “Wilson Wilder, you’ve forgotten where you came from. Forgotten who you relied on to make your fortune.” Adam Schwarz linked arms with her, beaming. “What’s wrong with Wilson thinking about her child?” His eyes scanned me with a lewd gaze. “My dad says you’ve taken too many hits, can’t have kids?” Wilson Wilder’s brow furrowed: “Enough!” He’d hit a nerve, and it only emboldened him. “Julian, everyone says you’re the eldest son raised by the Avalon syndicates.” “There’s no deal you can’t close, no woman you can’t conquer.” “Why cling to Wilson?” “Cling to her?” I looked at him. “What was she, starting her business relying on me? What are you, her side piece?” He paused, then beckoned to the media. “Shoot him! He’s a wreck; does he deserve to stand next to Wilson?” A journalist cautiously asked: “He’s Ms. Wilder of Avalon’s only kin.” Adam Schwarz waved his hand: “Who’s the Wilder family? A bunch of nobodies crushed by the Hayes syndicate!” That journalist bowed slightly to me and left. Others didn’t want to offend Adam Schwarz. All the cameras and mics pointed at me. I calmly looked at Wilson Wilder: “I’m selling off my 8% stake.” Her face changed: “Do you know SchwarzTech’s current valuation?” “One hundred and fifty million. B-round funding closed last week.” They exchanged glances. Adam Schwarz waved his hand: “I’ll take it all. Mr. Wilder, you’ll be all alone after this, don’t regret it.” The nanny brought the baby, whose tiny hand waved at the cameras. I instantly saw the strand of sandalwood beads around her neck. My father’s keepsake. Lost when I fled at fifteen. My sister turned Avalon upside down after she made her fortune, but never found it. “Met at a private auction last month,” Wilson Wilder said airily. “Adam liked it, so he wears it for fun.” My father’s only memento to me. In their mouths, it was “for fun.” “Give it back to me.” Every word was gritted through my teeth. “You will pay for this.” Adam Schwarz laughed. He unclasped the beads, dangling them in front of me. Like teasing a dog. “You wore them,” he said, his eyes curving into a sneer. “Not fit for my child to wear.” He let go. Clatter. The beads hit the ground, scattering everywhere. My mind went blank. My hand was already in my bag, pulling out the revolver, pressing it against his forehead. The moment the cold metal touched his skin, he froze. Then tears and snot flowed together, his face crumpling. “You’re crazy!” Wilson Wilder rushed over. “The gun’s fake!” Fake. But his legs were trembling. A yellowish-white liquid streamed down his pants, soaking a small puddle on the ground. The pungent, stale smell hit my nose. I couldn’t hold it in and threw up on him. He screamed. Wilson Wilder pressed a remote. The lights in the entire hall went out. Sudden darkness. I started to tremble. I feared the dark. She knew that. When I was little, my father used to lock me in the closet when he had clients. I’d huddle inside, listening to the laughter and moans from outside. I cried, I screamed, but no one heard. On our wedding night, I told her. She said, “With me, you’ll never be alone in the dark.” Now she’d turned off the lights. Someone gripped my shoulder. Smack. A slap, my right cheek stung. Smack. Another, my left cheek. Adam Schwarz had hit me. I couldn’t see him, but I felt the whoosh of his hand, smelled that stale, pungent scent mixed with perfume. I swallowed the metallic taste in my mouth. “Get out.” Adam Schwarz sneered: “Weren’t you so tough just now?” Wilson Wilder wiped sweat from my brow. She leaned into my ear, her voice very soft. “About what happened back then, I told myself you did it for me. But every time I think of it, I feel sick.” She paused. “In this life, let’s just make each other sick.” I was trembling more and more violently. Not out of fear. It was cold. A cold that seeped from my bones. I wanted to scream. Wanted to fill the entire hall with my screams. But I couldn’t. I started to fall. Back into that closet. The laughter, the moans, surged from all directions. I covered my ears, but the sounds still burrowed in. The person I thought would save me had now personally turned off the lights. She used the thing I feared most to hurt me. The stories I told her had become her knives against me. In the dark, I picked up the scattered beads, one by one. I don’t know how much time passed, then a beam of light cut through the darkness. “Julian.”

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Mother died of cancer. Father fell into a deep depression and followed her soon after. Alone in the funeral parlor surrounded by white flowers, I called my husband, desperate to hear his voice. Instead, his words cut through the receiver like ice. “Is depression genetic in your family? If you are sick, go see a shrink. Do not drag other people down with you like your parents did.” In the background, I heard his secretary, Beth, whine softly. “Mr. Sterling… my stomach hurts.” His tone shifted instantly, growing impatient with me. “We have been in meetings all night. I have not even had time to eat. I do not have time to listen to you cry. Unless someone is dying, do not call me again.” He hung up. I swallowed my grief, finalizing the funeral arrangements alone. Exhausted and having eaten nothing in three days, I collapsed in the hall. Waking in the ER, my phone lit up with a notification from Beth’s livestream. On the screen, a man’s hands wearing a platinum band identical to mine handed her a perfectly baked soufflé. Beth covered her mouth, eyes wide with feigned delight. “Wow! I casually mentioned I could not stomach my medicine without a dessert, and you actually baked this from scratch?” I looked at my own ring finger. My heart began to throb with a sharp, rhythmic pain. He was not too busy. He just did not love me anymore. 1 Realizing that his wedding band was visible to thousands of viewers, Karl quickly pulled his hand back. When his hand reappeared in the frame, the ring was gone. Only a pale indentation remained on his skin. This blatant attempt to hide his marriage pleased Beth immensely. Her coy giggles prompted Karl to reach out and pinch her cheek. His voice was dripping with affection. “Stop laughing like a fool. Did you not say you wanted this? Tell me how it tastes.” “I failed over a hundred times at the bakery before I finally got this one right. If it is good, you have to be a good girl and drink your stomach medicine.” Beth’s face flushed red. She took a small bite of the souffle, chewing slowly. Karl stared at her, his eyes full of eager anticipation. He looked like a completely different person from the man who had just told me he was too busy to eat and too busy to listen to my grief. “Mr. Sterling, this is absolutely incredible!” Beth practically purred. “Whoever gets to be your wife will be the luckiest woman alive!” Lucky? We had been together for five years and married for three. Karl had never cooked a single meal for me. He always said he was busy. He said he was busy building an empire so I could be the envy of every woman in the city. He said his time was too valuable to waste on menial domestic tasks. But now, just to coax his secretary into taking her antacids, he had spent hours in a bakery learning how to make a souffle. He had the time to fail a hundred times over a dessert, but he did not have the time to attend my parents’ funeral. He could not even spare a single word of comfort. Karl reached out and naturally wiped a smudge of powdered sugar off Beth’s lip with his thumb. The live chat exploded. [Do not use your hands! Use your mouth! Kiss her!] Beth smiled wickedly and took another messy bite, intentionally getting more sugar on her lips. The chat went wild. [Here is your second chance! Do not mess it up this time!] The camera suddenly jerked, and the livestream abruptly ended. But that quick camera movement was enough for me to recognize the background. Beth was admitted to the exact same hospital as me. Driven by a morbid curiosity, I dragged my exhausted body down the hall to her VIP suite. Through the glass window on the door, I saw Karl rubbing a smudge of red lipstick off his mouth. His face was slightly flushed. “Beth, that was the last time.” “I have to go check on Sienna in a bit. I heard she fainted at the funeral.” The moment he mentioned my name, all the gentleness vanished from his voice, replaced by heavy exhaustion. Beth’s smile froze. She immediately pushed the dessert tray away. “Then you should hurry up and go be with your wife. Why are you wasting time baking for me?” He twisted the wedding ring he had put back on his finger and let out a long sigh. “There is no rush. I will go see her after you drink your medicine and your stomach stops hurting.” My eyes fell on the small plastic cup of medicine on her nightstand. I had taken that exact same gastric coating liquid before. It was barely a mouthful, and it did not even taste bitter. But Beth held the cup for a long time, her pretty face scrunching up in dramatic disgust. Karl, a man completely devoid of patience, coaxed her softly. “Just drink it like a good girl, and I will stay with you for another hour.” Beth finally smiled and brought the cup to her lips. My heart twisted like a wet rag. I turned to walk away, but my legs gave out. I collapsed backward, desperately grabbing the metal door handle on my way down to break my fall. The door swung open with a loud crash. Startled by the noise, Beth choked on her medicine, coughing until her face turned bright red. Karl spent a good minute patting her back before he finally turned to look at the doorway. “Sienna?” I was sprawled on the cold linoleum floor, completely drained of strength, black spots dancing in my vision. But I could still see the absolute icy contempt in Karl’s eyes. “What exactly are you doing?” he demanded. “Throwing a pity party to get sympathy? Or are you just trying to scare Beth?” “I did not…” I whispered weakly. He ignored me and yelled down the hall for a nurse. “Get her out of here. Do not let her disturb the other patients.” The approaching nurse assumed we were strangers. She hurriedly apologized to him. “Sir, I am so sorry she disturbed you and your wife. I will take her back to her room right now.” Karl did not correct her assumption. As the nurse helped me out of the room, she pulled out my phone to call my emergency contact. “Hello? Where are you? Your wife just collapsed again in the hallway…” Karl’s voice boomed through the receiver. “Sienna! Are you ever going to stop this nonsense?” Hearing the exact same angry voice coming from the phone and the room behind her, the nurse froze in absolute shock. “That guy in there… is your husband?” I forced a weak smile. “Not for much longer.” The nurse saw the utter desolation in my eyes. She hung up the phone and silently helped me back to the IV room. I was physically exhausted, but sleep refused to come. Instead, I pulled out my phone and texted my lawyer. [Draft a divorce agreement.] I did not fall into a heavy sleep until the PDF arrived and I digitally signed it. I slept so deeply that I did not realize the IV needle had slipped out of my vein. The fluid had pooled under my skin, forming a painful lump the size of a golf ball on the back of my hand. I woke up to a sharp, throbbing pain just as Karl pushed the door open. He glanced at my swollen hand. Not a flicker of concern crossed his face. “Did you time this perfectly just for my arrival?” “It is just a little saline drip, Sienna. Your desperate attempts to play the victim are getting ridiculous.” He did not call a nurse. He did not ask if it hurt. He simply reached over and aggressively yanked the needle out of my flesh. The sudden violence of his movement caused a spray of blood droplets to shoot from the puncture wound. A few drops landed on his crisp white dress shirt. Karl, a notorious germaphobe, scowled deeply. “Sienna! Have you had enough of this tantrum?” I stared blankly at the blood still welling up from my hand. It felt like I was watching my own heart bleed out. “What tantrum, Karl?” He told me he was too busy with meetings to comfort me, so I handled my parents’ funeral entirely on my own. He took off his wedding ring to flirt with his secretary, and I did not expose him. He told me not to disturb Beth’s rest, so I obediently walked away with the nurse. He forcefully ripped a needle out of my vein, and I did not utter a single cry of pain. What exactly did he want from me? “You have the nerve to ask me that? I told you not to call unless it was an absolute emergency, and you had your relatives blow up my phone a dozen times!” “Why can you not be understanding like Beth? Why do you constantly force me to deal with your petty, meaningless drama?” My chest tightened again. So, his secretary throwing a fit over stomach medicine required him to bake a souffle and coax her like a child. That was called being “understanding.” But me, silently burying my parents and bearing the weight of the world alone, was considered “meaningless drama.” I pulled the printed divorce agreement from the bedside table and handed it to him. “Sign it. You will never have to deal with my drama again.” A flash of shock crossed his irritated eyes, quickly replaced by intense disgust. “Sienna! First the pity play, now you are threatening me with a divorce? Are you just going down a checklist of manipulation tactics?” “I am out there breaking my back every single day to give you a perfect life. Endless meetings, endless client dinners, endless proposals. And what do you do?” “You stay at home. You water the flowers. You bask in the sun and play the elegant Mrs. Sterling. What exactly are you so dissatisfied with?” I watched his lips move, feeling like I had been plunged into an ice bath. “Karl, just because I do not commute to the corporate office does not mean I sit around doing nothing. Every single flagship product design your company launched this year was drafted and finalized by me.” “It has been five years. Did I ask to stay home? You begged me to work remotely so I could curate your precious exotic greenhouse. You needed me here to bathe and feed your stroke-survivor mother. You needed me to watch your Alzheimer’s-stricken father so he would not wander into traffic!” “Does everything I sacrificed for this family mean absolutely nothing to you?” He grabbed a tissue and tossed it onto my lap. “Enough. There is no point in talking to you. You refuse to understand my pressure, and I refuse to validate your delusions. You always play the victim. You only ever complain instead of actually solving the problem.” “If you want to enjoy the status and luxury of being my wife, you need to prove you deserve to stand beside me.” “Do you really think your current behavior makes you worthy?” He was not asking a question. He had already decided I was guilty. I smiled bitterly and wiped a stray tear from my cheek. “You are right. I am not worthy. Please, just sign the papers.” He snatched the divorce agreement, flipped through the first two pages, and tossed it straight into the garbage can. “Do not throw the word divorce around lightly. Because the second I actually take you seriously, there will be no turning back.” “I am not going to let the media say I abandoned my wife the moment her parents died.” “While you were busy with the funeral, Beth hired a private nurse to look after my parents. She even went to our house to tend to your greenhouse. I was checking in on her out of gratitude. Stop letting your paranoia run wild.” “I brought a gift. Once you fix your attitude, you are going to go over to her room and properly thank her.” So, taking care of his parents and my plants was framed as a favor to me. How utterly laughable. Before I could refuse, he pulled a velvet box from his pocket and popped it open. The contents instantly pierced my eyes. Inside was the finished product of the third-anniversary diamond ring I had designed myself. It was supposed to be a matching set, but when my mother got sick, I only had time to forge the women’s band. “Do you still want me to make the men’s band?” I asked, suppressing the bitter taste of bile in my mouth. He pulled his current wedding ring off and showed me the red indentation on his finger. “Yes. This one is getting a little tight. I need the new one.” He said it so casually, completely oblivious to the sacred meaning behind a custom set of vows in metal. “Fine. Sign the divorce papers, and I will make it.” Karl scowled, but a smug smirk touched the corner of his lips. “Sienna, stop throwing a tantrum. I promised your parents I would take care of you for the rest of your life. As long as you finish my ring, I will clear my schedule and attend your parents’ memorial service next week.” I stared at the man I had loved for eight years. For the first time, he looked like a terrifying stranger. “Fine.” I would make the ring. But I did not need his care anymore. He looked at my compromise with a knowing, victorious expression. “If you wanted me to attend the memorial, you should have just asked nicely. Why did you have to put on this massive theatrical performance? You are so exhausting.” “Do you not know that the squeaky wheel gets the grease?” I actually laughed out loud. So, getting a son-in-law to attend the final rites of his wife’s parents required me to get on my knees and beg for his charity. But I had begged him. And what did he do? “I called you. What did you say to me?” Karl rubbed his temples, completely losing his patience. “I am busy. I am exhausted. Why can you not just be mature? Look at Beth…” Since the moment he walked into my hospital room, he had not offered a single word of comfort. His entire objective was to force me to hand over the women’s ring—the ring I designed for myself—to Beth, and then guilt me into finishing his matching band. My parents’ death was nothing but a bargaining chip to him. Suddenly, a massive commotion erupted in the hallway outside. Someone was screaming about jumping out of a window. “Do not stop me! Mr. Sterling and I are completely innocent, but his wife is texting me, calling me a homewrecker! I cannot live with this humiliation!” Hearing Beth’s hysterical cries, Karl’s face drained of color. He shot me a death glare and sprinted out of the room. I had no interest in watching their soap opera. I walked out to the nurses’ station to get a bandage for my bleeding hand. The young nurse carefully cleaned the dried blood, whispering furiously. “Ma’am, your husband’s secretary is a piece of work! The second she saw him walk into your room, she started this whole suicide act!” “You cannot divorce him. Do not let that manipulative snake win!” I thanked the nurse for her kindness and turned back to my room. But the moment I sat on the edge of the bed, Karl stormed in, his face twisted in absolute fury. He grabbed my arm and violently yanked me to my feet. “Get up. You are going to apologize to Beth right now.” “And I am warning you, if you send her one more disgusting, abusive text, I will let her press charges against you for harassment.” “And do not expect me to protect you. And definitely do not expect me to show up at your parents’ memorial!” That was when I realized Beth had received anonymous hate texts after I left, calling her a mistress. “I did not send those texts…” “Shut up! You are still lying!” “Do not think I do not know you faked fainting just to spy on Beth and me! I was willing to let it slide, but this crosses the line!” Seeing my desolate expression, his tone softened slightly, though it remained frozen in authority. “Enough. Just go apologize to her, and I will take your side and protect you from the fallout. After all, you just lost your parents, and you probably inherited their mental instability…” I stood absolutely still. Suddenly, I lost all desire to defend myself. Blindly accusing me of a crime without a shred of evidence—that was what Karl called “taking my side.” And he finally acknowledged the pain of losing my parents, but only to use it as an excuse to force me into soothing Beth’s ego. I did not know how he dragged me down the hall to her room. All I knew was the sudden, sharp pain in my knees. When I blinked, I realized I was kneeling on the floor beside Beth’s hospital bed. Karl shoved the velvet ring box into my hands, his voice a harsh command. “Did you not say you were going to thank her? Do it.” I let out a hollow, broken laugh. I opened the velvet box and held it up toward Beth. “I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.” Before Karl could process his shock, I pushed myself off the floor and bolted for the door. Karl stuck his foot out and tripped me. I crashed hard into the doorframe. “Sienna!” he roared. “Is that your idea of an apology? Get back here and do it right!” Beth quickly grabbed his arm, tears streaming down her perfectly applied makeup. “Mr. Sterling, please do not be mad! She is just grieving. I do not blame her… as long as she stops calling me a homewrecker…” Her brilliant display of fake grace and kindness moved Karl deeply. “Do not worry. If she ever insults you again, I will make her regret it for the rest of her life.” Right as he said that, a group of loud, aggressive people stormed into the hospital room. They claimed to be my relatives. They started hurling raw eggs and wilted lettuce at Beth. “You cheap homewrecker! You really know how to sink your claws into a man! You completely brainwashed Mr. Sterling!” Karl quickly shielded Beth with his own body. Egg yolks and trash splattered across his expensive suit and face. Beth pushed weakly against his chest. “Mr. Sterling, get out of the way! They are here for me!” Karl held her tighter, shouting at the crowd. “I will say this one last time! Beth is not a homewrecker!” “Sienna, call off your insane family right now! Or I swear to God I am calling the police!” I looked at the screaming mob. I had never seen any of these people in my life. Tears of hysterical laughter pricked my eyes. “They are not my relatives. I do not know them!” The mob instantly turned toward me, their voices dripping with fake sympathy. “Oh, Sienna, do not be scared! We are here for you! We will not let anyone bully you!” Then they turned their wrath back on Karl. “Mr. Sterling, out of respect for Sienna, we will not hurt you. But you need to step aside and let us teach this trash a lesson! If she had not seduced you, you would have been at the funeral to send off Sienna’s parents! She reeks of cheap perfume. Can you not smell it?” One of the women pulled out a phone and started recording Beth’s egg-covered face. “A slut like you deserves to die!” “But before you do, the whole internet is going to see exactly what you are!” Karl, realizing this mob was utterly unhinged, immediately pulled out his phone and dialed 911. Beth snatched the phone out of his hand, weeping violently. “Mr. Sterling, no! Just let it go! It is all my fault. Do not ruin your marriage over me…” But Karl snatched the phone back and hit send. Beth’s face paled dramatically. She looked at the mob, her voice trembling. “You guys need to get Sienna out of here right now! If Mr. Sterling gets the cops involved, you will all go to jail!” The “relatives” who had just sworn to defend my honor instantly grabbed me by the arms and dragged me toward the exit. Realizing something was horribly wrong, I thrashed wildly, screaming at Karl. “I really do not know them! Help me!” Karl just sneered in disgust. “Your shamelessness truly knows no bounds.” A sweaty hand clamped hard over my mouth. I was dragged into the service elevator. Within seconds, a sickeningly sweet chemical smell filled my nose, and my vision faded to black. Total despair washed over me. Was I really going to be kidnapped in broad daylight while my husband watched? When I finally woke up and saw my surroundings, my blood ran cold.

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To ensure the heroine’s successful conquest, the System faked my death. I woke up six years later. Penniless, I stood on the street, the hero and heroine already living a blissful life. I’d just escaped a fire, so disheveled I’d lost a shoe. Feeling a bit lost, I messaged Henry Darcy. “…Could you pick me up?” The call came back quickly. But it wasn’t Henry speaking. A child’s voice, after a moment of silence, spoke with forced aloofness: “Oh, another one pretending to be my mom.” 1 He still came though. A kind passerby had told him my location. The breathing on the other end of the line hitched. The soft voice, however, hung up decisively. “Be there soon.” Returning the borrowed phone to the passerby, I silently thanked them. A fever in my youth had damaged my vocal cords, and ever since, I couldn’t speak. Soon enough, a car pulled up in front of me. A little boy jumped out, his legs kicking. When he saw my face, his eyes flickered. He kept a poker face, silently assessing me for a moment. His gaze fell on my shoeless foot. Disheveled, dirty, covered in soot. Because I had just escaped a fire. I’d woken up to find myself six years in the future. My fingers curled, and I belatedly felt a pang of embarrassment. But I pretended not to care, signing: “I didn’t mean to bother you.” “Could I borrow some money? I’ll leave right away.” Six years had passed; the hero and heroine were already living happily ever after. Even my own child now called someone else ‘Mom’. Mid-sentence, I remembered Alan Darcy couldn’t understand sign language. I borrowed the driver’s phone, about to type, but Alan, looking rather unhappy, pulled me into the car. It was rush hour, and I thought he was upset because of the impatient honking from the cars behind us. He turned his head, staring out the window, saying nothing. So I handed him the phone. Alan, his small face serious, asked me: “How much money do you want?” I typed: “One thousand dollars.” Alan stared at the three words for a moment, then, a little unsure, said: “Ten million?” My vision went black. My eyes widened in disbelief, and I quickly waved my hands. Alan pursed his lips, his voice childish: “Not enough?” “I don’t have that much money, I’ll ask Dad to give it to you when we get home.” I tapped furiously on the phone screen. But he pushed the phone away, his tender voice muffled: “Too many words I don’t know, I can’t read it.” How many words could a six-year-old really know? Just moments ago, he understood complex words like “borrow money,” but now he couldn’t distinguish between “thousand” and “million.” I sighed in frustration. Looking down, I noticed Alan’s shoes were on the wrong feet, and his socks were mismatched. Was he too rushed to leave? I bit my lip, feeling a little sad, and pointed, wanting to remind him. But he seemed to misunderstand, tilting his head and asking: “You want to hold hands?” He frowned, looking conflicted, but still extended his hand. “Fine, I guess I can let you hold my hand for a bit.” 2 Henry used to be just like that when he was little. Back then, I lived in his house. At first, everyone looked down on me, the quiet, mute kid. He had been kidnapped as a child, and both his parents died in that incident. Old Man Darcy, worried about his trauma, let him choose playmates from all over the city. And Henry, among a group of chattering peers, chose me – clumsy and slow. With that, my family, the Chen family, rose in status. Later, I found out Henry chose me that day because I was the quietest, not noisy. Years passed, and I lived inconspicuously in the Darcy household. Then, one stormy night, thunder woke me. Then I heard a knock on the door. Opening it, Henry stood there, clutching a blanket, his face serious, saying each word carefully: “You’re afraid of thunder?” I looked bewildered, about to shake my head. But he pressed down on my head, saying awkwardly: “Got it. Then I guess I’ll reluctantly keep you company tonight.” …So silly. Did he really think I couldn’t tell he was scared himself? Those who crave love often struggle to receive it. Just as I, as a child yearning for a mother’s love, never received a single moment of her favoritism. The only time she ever praised me was on the night Henry chose me. So, Henry, who wasn’t truly mine, was destined to be separated from me. Six years ago, before that fire, the heroine, Scarlett Kingston, showed me her future with Henry. It turned out I was just a villainess, an accident—a one-night stand with the hero, secretly giving birth to his child, and then using that to extort a huge fortune. In that future, I died in a fire. After my death, Scarlett redeemed the hero, and they lived happily ever after years later. Even my child recognized someone else as his new mom. After seeing it, I felt a little lost. Was I really that bad in someone else’s story? Later, I actually found myself trapped in a fire. I only managed to pass my child through a narrow gap before the engulfing flames completely blocked me inside. I choked on the smoke, and when I opened my eyes again, I was in the present, six years later. I am mute. I can’t say pleasant words, nor harsh ones. I can’t even win an argument. If I hadn’t been truly desperate, my mind only recalling Henry’s phone number, I think we would never have met again. But now I regret it a little. I hadn’t intended to return to the Darcy house. In my mind, Henry would unhesitatingly give me money and send me away. After all, in his eyes, that chaotic night was a scheme orchestrated by me and the Chen family. But things seemed to have gone awry. I suddenly felt like I was sitting on pins and needles, wanting to say I didn’t want the money, I wanted to get out of the car. But Alan pushed the phone away, saying he couldn’t read, and the driver remained focused on the road ahead. So I could only watch helplessly as the car drove into the Darcy family’s underground garage. 3 To my relief, Henry wasn’t home. The driver explained he’d gone abroad for a business deal that morning and wouldn’t be back until next week. My phone was accidentally smashed in the fire. After swapping the SIM card into a new phone, a torrent of messages flooded in the moment I powered it on. The screen even lagged for a second. I was startled. A carrier message showed my phone account had been topped up with a huge sum. Most of the missed calls and unread messages were from the same familiar number. I bit my lip and opened them. Scrolling from top to bottom. “Arden Chen, you slept with me and then ran off?” “I’m not angry, come out, stop hiding.” This timeline would have been the months after my family, the Chen family, dragged me back and kept me locked in the attic, forcing me to secretly give birth to the child. My phone was confiscated then, and I was cut off from everyone. “…They said you died, I didn’t believe it.” “The Chen family traded the child for those plots of land on the east side of the city. I gave them what they wanted.” “How much do I have to give for you to reappear?” “The child looks a lot like you.” “Today someone impersonated you to scam Alan out of two hundred dollars.” “Idiot, if you don’t show up soon, your son will be scammed.” … The last message was from two years ago. “If you see this, call me.” After that, silence. I thought, perhaps this was when Scarlett successfully “redeemed” Henry. So Henry finally gave up on messaging me. I lowered my gaze, a dull ache in my chest, almost suffocating, though I couldn’t pinpoint why. I actually saw it. Standing on the street, waiting for Alan to arrive, I saw the advertisement on the giant screen at the mall. I stared up blankly then, seeing Scarlett endorsing a brand under Darcy Enterprises. Tears inexplicably fell. No matter how much I wiped, they wouldn’t stop. It turned out that no one truly couldn’t live without another. Now they were happy; my appearance would only be a disruption. Just then, as I was about to leave, Alan happened to appear before me. And by some twist of fate, I ended up in the car, back at the Darcy house. I checked my card balance. I didn’t know if the Chen family simply didn’t care for my meager savings or truly didn’t care about me. After my “death” six years ago, they hadn’t even closed my account. With the reassuring balance in my pocket, I planned to transfer money for the phone and clothes to the Darcy family’s housekeeper to pass on. Then I would leave. …Since everyone was happy, there was no need to disturb them anymore. As I pushed open the door. Alan, standing outside the door, instinctively stepped back, startled by me. He raised his chin, asking in a childish voice, feigning nonchalance: “Where are you going?” I had already downloaded a translation app in the room, typed out my message, and played it aloud. “Thank you, I’m leaving now.” Time is a truly wondrous thing. An infant who was wailing in my arms just a few hours ago could now skip and jump around. His eyes widened slightly, then suddenly reddened. He clutched my hand, panicked and frantic, shouting: “No! You still owe me money, you can’t leave!” All his previous forced coolness was gone. I knelt down, meeting his gaze. Very carefully, very gently, I stroked his soft black hair. I had seen that future. In that future, everyone was happy. Alan had a perfect mother, growing up safe and joyful. He wouldn’t have a manipulative maternal grandfather, nor a mute, unlikable mother. I pressed play, and the calm, robotic voice echoed in the hallway. “I’ll transfer the money for the phone to you.” Alan stared at me, stubbornly clutching my hand, refusing to let go, crying uncontrollably, shaking his head and saying: “Not that.” “You messaged me, asking me to transfer two hundred dollars.” “I secretly ran off after school that day, and waited for you on the bridge for a long time.” “You lied to me, you didn’t come.” His somewhat jumbled words still reminded me of Henry’s text message, mentioning someone impersonating me to scam Alan out of two hundred dollars. My eyes felt a little sore. I wiped away the tears from Alan’s soft cheeks with my hand. It wouldn’t be good if Scarlett came back and saw this. She was Alan’s beloved new mom; I absolutely didn’t want any friction between them because of me. Perhaps later she and Henry would have their own children, and she would have her own favorites, but the first one would always be special. I didn’t want her to see Alan with annoyance or disgust because of me in the future. I wanted to leave before Scarlett returned. As I turned around, Alan sprang forward and wrapped his arms around one of my legs. I swallowed the bitterness in my heart, looking down helplessly at Alan, who was clinging to me, but then heard a rustling sound ahead. I looked up, instinctively. And met a pair of dark eyes. In the long corridor, someone stood, travel-worn, at the end of the stairs, his trench coat soaked from the heavy rain, his voice hoarse. Henry said: “…Arden Chen.” “How can you bully a child?” 4 I don’t know when the rain outside the window started to fall. But I hurriedly pried Alan’s hands off me, then anxiously peered behind Henry. I didn’t see anyone else. Only then did I breathe a sigh of relief. Alan clung to me again, still hugging my leg, shouting at Henry: “Dad, quickly give Mom ten million dollars.” “If you give it to her, she won’t leave.” Me: “…?” Meeting Henry’s subtle gaze, I pursed my lips, unable to resist raising my hands to argue: “I didn’t.” “I only wanted to borrow a thousand dollars. Alan doesn’t know sign language or how to read, he misunderstood.” I signed quickly, afraid he would misunderstand. Henry clearly understood, but his expression paused, then he let out a vague chuckle, saying cryptically: “Alan doesn’t understand sign language?” I felt the small hands clutching my pant leg suddenly tighten. But Henry quickly brushed over the topic, telling the playfully demanding Alan to go back to his room. Alan glared at him angrily: “Why?” “I’m the one who brought Mom back.” “And Mom even texted and called me, she came back because of me!” He even boasted while arguing. Henry lowered his eyes, watched him for a moment, then sneered: “If you hadn’t secretly swapped my phone’s SIM card again, would it have been your turn to pick her up?” He tried to pull Alan away, but couldn’t. “How about this, you ask her yourself if she wants you to go back to your room.” The next moment, both their gazes landed on me simultaneously. My scalp tingled. I instinctively averted my eyes, hesitating for a moment: “…Maybe I should just leave?” Henry turned his head, plainly lying to Alan: “See, she said it’s late now, and you should go back to your room obediently to sleep.” “You’re lying! Clearly—” Henry interrupted him: “A child who can’t understand sign language shouldn’t guess.” At these words, Alan’s voice ceased. He pouted, looking at me pitifully, but ultimately said nothing. Henry seemed to sense Alan’s reluctance. He pulled me into the study, telling me concisely: “This stubborn kid won’t give up.” “Can you wait for me here for a moment?” Then, he knelt in front of Alan, seemingly whispering something. Alan immediately quieted down, glancing at me hesitantly, then obediently let Henry lead him away. Silence immediately descended. I came back to myself, hearing the patter of rain from the half-open French window in the study. The wind was strong, whipping the sheer curtains outward, and even the papers on the desk rustled loudly. Worried the rain would blow in and dampen the documents in the study, I walked over and closed the window. But as I turned, I knocked a book off the shelf. From its flyleaf fell a ten-dollar bill with a torn corner. 5 Seeing that familiar ten-dollar bill, I froze. I felt as if I were back in that summer. By then, Henry was no longer as distant as he had been when we first met. At some point, he had secretly learned sign language behind my back. I even clearly remembered the first time he clumsily signed “Got it” to me. His expression was still aloof and unhurried. But he still argued: “It takes too much of my time waiting for you to write it down for me to see.” I curved my eyes, just about to answer him “Thank you.” But the door was suddenly flung open. “Why does Henry Darcy always wear that cold expression? Who’s it for?” “A parentless brat, just throwing his weight around because of his family background, otherwise who would bother to flatter him!” “Once Old Man Darcy dies, I’d like to see if he can still be so arrogant!” Henry’s expression remained calm, until he heard “Old Man Darcy,” then his face hardened, his lips tightening. The man seemed completely oblivious to Henry and me, hidden behind layers of boxes in the corner. I remembered that voice; it was the youngest son of the Monroe family, Mason. It was Old Man Darcy’s birthday banquet today, and earlier, Mason Monroe had proposed a toast to Henry, which Henry didn’t drink. Instead, he swapped it for a glass of water, clinked glasses, and took a small sip. Mason’s face looked very unpleasant before he left, so that was the reason. But from my observation, Henry hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol, even when toasting Old Man Darcy, it was water. So Henry wasn’t just targeting him alone. He was indiscriminately targeting everyone. Everyone knew Henry, due to his childhood kidnapping, was usually cold-faced and spoke little, so they were used to it. I didn’t know how it became “wearing a cold expression” in his eyes. But after he finished scolding Henry, he started scolding me. “That mute girl from the Chen family, too, can never be pinned down, avoids me like the plague.” “Just a pathetic mute, does she really think she’s climbed up the social ladder by hooking up with the Darcys?” I felt Henry lower his head, his gaze lingering on my face for a moment. I subtly turned my head, feeling strangely nervous, my face tense, lips pressed together. The people around Mason tried to calm him down, giving him ideas. For instance, deliberately spilling wine on me later, bribing the waiters to put mustard in Henry’s water to make him embarrass himself publicly, and so on. After Mason finally vented his anger and left, Henry slowly emerged from the shadows in the corner. Then he turned into the kitchen. He rummaged around, looking rather dissatisfied. It was strange, but I just knew he was looking for mustard. I walked past him and found a bunch of chili peppers in the corner of the prep area. Then I signed, asking him: “No mustard.” “These chili peppers are very spicy. Chili water, would that work?” Henry lowered his eyelids to look at me, took the chili peppers, and lazily uttered a “Hmm.” He summoned two waiters, gave them a few low-voiced instructions, then took me to the railing on the second floor. That was probably the most lively scene of the night. Mason, while toasting with the elders, suddenly spat everything out with a “Pffft,” knocking over a champagne tower beside him and getting drenched in wine. The Monroe elders were embarrassed, apologizing and publicly scolding him, dressing him down mercilessly. In his utter humiliation, Mason instinctively looked up and finally saw us, watching the entire spectacle from the second-floor railing. Henry lightly tilted his head, raised an eyebrow, and held up his glass of water, toasting from afar. He mouthed, word for word: “This is what it means to throw your weight around.” The petty squabbles among the younger generation naturally didn’t escape Old Man Darcy’s notice. Henry could be reckless, but I couldn’t. Perhaps at Old Man Darcy’s instruction, my mother, who had left me to live with the Darcys for years, uncharacteristically asked me to go home with her that night. As the birthday banquet was about to end, I hesitated, then apologized to Henry: “I’m sorry, I might not be able to come to the Darcy house to keep you company anymore.” My mother’s expression had been grim just now, and I thought Old Man Darcy might have sent me home. Henry clearly understood the underlying implications. He said nonchalantly: “If you don’t want to go back, then don’t. No one here is kicking you out.” Seeing me still looking dejected, he pulled me into the surveillance room and showed me the kitchen and corridor footage. Only then did I realize that the surveillance footage of our earlier mischievous acts had already been replaced. He copied the segment of Mason’s cursing and plotting onto a USB drive, then gestured for me to extend my hand. “If he bothers you again, you just throw this footage in his face.” He paused, then said: “Stay with me until ten o’clock.” “Believe it or not, even if the Chen family’s car leaves, no one will dare to kick you out tonight.” Henry stayed with me on the rooftop, letting mosquitoes feast on us until ten o’clock. I saw the Chen family’s car indeed leave, and my mother even gave me a gentle, gratified smile before she left. I was overwhelmed. I was very grateful to Henry. I felt our relationship had somehow changed. Even though helping me was just a side thought, he solved my problems and stayed with me on the rooftop, enduring mosquito bites. Only friends would do such things. So I signed, unable to resist asking: “Are we friends now?” “No.” Was it that hard to be Henry’s friend? I felt a little disappointed but not too sad. After all, Henry was always aloof and hard to please. If it didn’t work this time, I would just try harder next time. But the next moment, I heard Henry slowly say: “It’s a more closely knit, unbreakable relationship of co-conspirators.” My eyes widened slightly. I stared at him blankly, inexplicably feeling that this relationship he spoke of seemed even more important than mere casual friendship. He spoke abruptly, his voice scattering into the wind: “Do you have any money on you?” I rummaged for a long time, finally finding only a crumpled, corner-torn ten-dollar bill on me. Henry calmly accepted it. The shadow cast on the ground by the moonlight tilted towards me. “Now, I owe you ten dollars; you are my creditor.” “So, from now on, if you encounter trouble, or if there’s something you don’t want to do, or someone you don’t want to see, you can come to me to collect your debt, understand?” Seeing me lost in thought, Henry surprisingly didn’t get angry but patiently repeated: “Did you remember?” I nodded eagerly, promising him: “Don’t worry, I’ll never forget it as long as I live.” Perhaps it was after a few more similar exhortations like that night. From being cautious at first, I gradually began to “collect debt” from Henry over small matters. When encountering difficulties, I no longer silently bore them alone. Instead, he had trained me to instinctively reach out to him. So much so that when I was engulfed in the fire, and then opened my eyes to find myself six years in the future— I stood on a bustling street, looking at the unfamiliar world, my mind a blank, filled only with panic. Yet, even then, I never thought of contacting my mother or returning to the Chen family. Instead, I instinctively borrowed a stranger’s phone. Then I sent Henry a message: “This is Arden Chen.” I immediately typed the second half, sending it without hesitation. “…Can you come pick me up?”

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1 Demoted, I crouched curb-side, shoveling salty street fries through tears. I texted Silas that I was exhausted and the fries helped. He did not reply. Half an hour later, shivering in the biting Seattle air, I texted again that I needed to talk. His response cut deep. What exactly is the point of this text? Are you trying to get me to reimburse you for your junk food? For six years, I had proven I was not a gold digger. Since his mother drained his accounts and left him millions in debt, Silas despised users. I never spent his money. We split every dinner bill. I returned expensive gifts. I kept our relationship hidden at work so my project results alone impressed the board. Refreshing my feed, I saw Mina, the intern who stole my promotion, post a photo wearing a diamond necklace. The caption thanked Mr. Blackwood for celebrating her promotion. I recognized the limited-edition piece from a magazine. Only three existed worldwide. In six years, Silas had never given me a gift worth more than a hundred dollars. The jewels against Mina’s collarbone were worth at least a million. Tears clouded my screen. My desperate attempts to prove my worth over the years were apparently worth less to him than a cheap carton of street fries. … After choking down the last bite, I hailed a cab back to the corporate tower. The promotion results were already posted on the internal network, but I still needed to ask him where I fell short. I had six years of project management experience. I ranked first in performance reviews for three consecutive years. My team had the lowest turnover rate in the entire company. And I lost to a twenty-two-year-old intern who had just passed her probation period. The moment I stepped out of the cab, I froze. Three yards away, Silas was leaning over, holding the passenger door of his sleek black Bentley open for Mina. “There is no rush on this project,” his voice drifted over, smooth and patient. “Just take your time getting familiar with the workflow. I am taking you to London in a couple of days to meet the clients. It will be a good learning experience.” “But I only just got hired full-time.” Mina sounded appropriately hesitant. “It does not matter.” Silas cut her off, his tone softer than I had ever heard it. “As long as you have the drive, titles do not mean anything. Besides, I am right here. If anything goes wrong, I have your back.” The warm summer wind brushed against my skin, but I felt ice-cold down to my bones. In six years, Silas had traveled to thirty-five countries for business. He never took me on a single trip. He always fed me the same line: “We do not mix personal feelings with company business.” I had even asked him once if I could go purely as the project lead. He had looked at me with cold, evaluating eyes. “Aria, are you trying to use your project metrics to extort a free business trip out of me? You need to remember your place in this company.” Remember my place. I remembered my place so well that I did not dare commute with him. I did not dare post a single picture of us online. I did not even dare step into the same elevator with him at work. And yet, he turned around and told another woman that titles did not mean anything. Mina spotted me standing by the curb and waved enthusiastically. “Aria!” Silas followed her gaze. His eyes swept over me for less than a second before returning to Mina. “Get in,” he told her. “I will drop you off so you can get some rest.” Mina nodded, flashing me a bright, innocent smile. “Are you heading back up to the office, Aria? Or do you want to catch a ride with us?” Silas finally looked at me. “Just call an Uber,” he said flatly. “Mina lives in the opposite direction. It is out of the way.” But at the end of the night, he still had to return to the apartment we shared. So what exactly was out of the way? Before I could force a single word out of my throat, he got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. I stood alone in the wind, watching the taillights bleed into the city traffic. I had been chasing that silhouette for six years. 2 There was a time when he would drive across the entire city just to pick me up from a grueling client dinner. Now, I was out of the way. Back at my desk, I logged into the HR portal and pulled up the evaluation matrix. Next to my name, Silas had entered his final score: 58 out of 100. Out of six board members, he gave me the absolute lowest score. I scrolled down to the next page. Next to Mina’s name, his score read: 98. I stared at that glowing 58, feeling like the air had been sucked out of my lungs. I could not breathe. I never expected the fatal blow to come from Silas. He knew exactly what I had sacrificed over the last six years better than anyone alive. He had watched every midnight overtime shift, every sleepless night before a pitch, every flawless quarterly report. Yet he gave me a failing grade. “Why?” I whispered to the empty office. The only answer was the wet slap of a tear hitting my keyboard, followed by the sudden, heavy drumming of rain against the floor-to-ceiling windows. By the time I unlocked the door to our apartment, I was soaked to the bone. Silas was sitting on the leather sofa, a laptop balanced on his knees. He did not even bother to look up. “I told you to take an umbrella this morning.” No dry towel. No hot tea. Not even a shred of genuine concern. I stood in the entryway. Cold rainwater dripped from my hair, pooling onto the hardwood floor. “You gave me a 58 on the evaluation,” I said, my voice hollow. “You gave Mina a 98. Why did you give her the highest score and fail me?” Silas set his laptop on the glass coffee table and leaned back into the cushions. “Because it is fair.” “Fair?” “People in the office are starting to catch on to our relationship,” he said, his tone entirely clinical. “The other board members gave you high scores to save face for me. If I also gave you a high score, the entire evaluation process would lose its integrity. Someone had to give you a reality check, and it had to be me.” I stared at him, a bitter, broken laugh escaping my lips. “Silas, it has been six years. I have never used you to get a single advantage. I bled for every account I brought in. I applied for this promotion based entirely on my data. You know that better than anyone.” He picked up a glass of water, took a slow sip, and set it down with a sharp clink. “You still have not learned how the corporate world works, Aria. If people think you rely on nepotism, then you rely on nepotism. Period. I gave Mina the highest score because she gave her presentation without looking at her notes. She was passionate, composed, and she earned it.” “So you are admitting it,” I said, my voice rising. “You gave her a 98 not because of her actual competence, but because you liked her attitude?” Silas stood up, towering over me with a disappointed scowl. “Can you stop playing the victim every time you face a minor setback? You lost. Deal with it.” I tilted my head back, desperately trying to force the tears down, but my eyes burned like fire. “If I actually lost to her purely on merit, I would shake her hand and walk away. But I lost because of you! Because my boyfriend of six years, the man who saw every ounce of my blood and sweat, decided to play God! Your 58 dragged my average from first place down to fifth!” Silas clicked his tongue, his patience clearly evaporating. “This right here is exactly the difference between you and her. If Mina lost today, she would smile and congratulate you. She stays positive. She does not point fingers. And look at you. You just stand there wallowing in your own misery.” A hysterical laugh tore from my throat as the tears finally spilled over. “I have been wallowing in misery for six years, Silas! Do you know what I am actually miserable about? The fact that I never got to have a normal relationship! Six years of splitting the check, six years of rejecting your gifts, six years of refusing to get in your car just so the whole company could audit my achievements with a microscope.” 3 “I lived like a ghost just to prove I was not the kind of woman you despised!” Silas said nothing. He just stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, watching me fall apart. My legs gave out. I sank to the floor, my hands pressed against the cold wood. Rainwater and tears dripped from my chin. “Six years,” I sobbed, my whole body shaking. “I tried so hard. Why do I have nothing to show for it? Why did it have to be you who ruined it?” Silas’s phone buzzed. He answered it, and instantly, his voice softened into something incredibly gentle. “Mina? Yeah, I am here.” “That market analysis… I will send you a template right now. No, it is not a bother at all.” Mina’s voice leaked through the receiver, soft and insecure. “Mr. Blackwood, am I just completely useless at this?” “You are not useless,” he murmured. “I will walk you through it step by step.” A travel pack of tissues hit the floor next to my knee with a soft thud. “If you are going to cry, do it quietly,” Silas said coldly. “She is still at the office rushing a proposal. You can throw a pity party over a little failure, but at least give the people who actually want to succeed some peace and quiet.” When I walked into the office pantry the next morning, the room was buzzing with whispers. The moment I stepped inside, the chatter died instantly. Someone coughed loudly. Another person stared intently at their empty coffee mug. “Did you hear? The CEO’s little pet project totally tanked.” “I always knew her whole independent boss-lady act was fake. God knows how long she has been sleeping her way up.” “Well, the new girl got it on pure talent. Mina did not need a sugar daddy.” “Maybe Aria is just getting too old to keep him interested in bed.” I stood frozen by the doorway, my fingernails digging into my palms so hard they almost drew blood. Mina walked over, holding a freshly brewed mug of coffee. “Aria, you are here.” She looked up at me with wide, apologetic eyes. “I feel so terrible about yesterday. You are my senior, and winning against you just feels… wrong.” She held the mug out toward me. “Please let me buy you this coffee as an apology. I still have so much to learn from you.” She held the mug suspended in the air for a full five seconds. I finally reached out to take it. But the exact second my fingertips grazed the ceramic, she let go. Scalding dark roast splashed across my chest and cascaded down to my stomach. I gasped, stumbling backward as the burning pain bit into my skin. Mina froze for a split second, then stared at her own empty hands in horror. “Aria… did you not have a grip on it?” she stammered, her eyes instantly welling up with tears. “I know you are mad at me, but you did not have to drop it on purpose.” Her voice trembled pitifully. “That coffee was literally boiling. It burned my fingers just holding it.” The entire room turned to glare at me. “Mina tried to be nice, and she pulls a stunt like this? Letting it spill all over herself just to make the poor girl look bad?” “Losing a promotion and throwing a tantrum like a toddler. How pathetic.” “What is going on in here?” The crowd parted. Silas walked into the pantry. His eyes swept over Mina’s teary face, then landed on my ruined, coffee-stained silk blouse. His brows pulled together in a harsh frown. “I tried to bring Aria a coffee, and she did not catch it,” Mina sobbed quietly. “It was just an accident.” “I did not—” I started to speak. “Did you burn your hands?” Silas cut me off, looking directly at Mina. Mina glanced down at her pristine white cuff. There was a tiny, singular brown drop on the fabric. “No, just a little splash,” she whispered. Silas finally looked at me. His eyes were like jagged ice. “Clean up your own mess, Aria. Go buy her a new shirt.” 4 I looked down at my own chest. The skin beneath the wet fabric was already turning angry red and blistering. “I—” “Do not cause a scene and disrupt the workflow.” His voice was utterly devoid of emotion. I looked into his eyes and saw nothing. He was looking at me like I was a stranger off the street. I opened my mouth, then closed it. Whatever. It did not matter what I said. He was never going to believe me anyway. I gave a stiff nod, turned on my heel, and walked out without another word. I went down to the designer boutique on the ground floor of our corporate building, pulled a blouse off the rack, and walked to the register. The cashier scanned the tag, then looked up at me with profound concern. “Miss, this is definitely not your size. Do you need me to grab a different one?” she asked gently. “Also, that burn on your chest looks really severe. Do you want me to call a medic first?” I glanced down. A massive, dark brown stain stretched from my collarbone to my stomach, clinging to my skin. The burned area was violently red, and several blisters had already formed. Even a random cashier could see it. But Silas could only see the single drop of coffee on Mina’s sleeve. “I am fine. Thank you.” I tapped my card, grabbed the shopping bag, and took the elevator back up. Standing in the sleek, marble lobby of the company I had bled for, the tears finally fell. No one was coming to save me. The man who used to drive across the city just to bring me soup was dead and gone. I dropped the fresh blouse on Mina’s desk. Silas was leaning over her cubicle. “You got quite a scare today. Take the rest of the day off to recover.” “Thank you, Mr. Blackwood.” Silas did not even glance in my direction. “Aria, you will cover her workload for the day.” My face was completely blank. I just gave a slight nod and walked back to my desk. Sitting next to my keyboard was a sealed tube of burn ointment. Underneath it was a yellow sticky note with familiar handwriting: [Make sure you apply this.] I picked it up, stared at it for a second, and dropped it straight into the trash can under my desk. I booted up my computer. A task list popped up on my screen, crammed with Mina’s unfinished grunt work. Every time I hit a key, the blisters on my chest stretched and burned. At exactly six o’clock, I finished the last line of a report. I opened a blank Word document and typed two words in bold at the top: Resignation Letter. Right before clock-out, Mina strolled back into the office, looking radiant. “Aria, about the London contract, I really need to draft the final terms myself. I want to be hands-on with my own accounts.” She tilted her head. “You do not mind, do you?” “Go ahead.” The next morning, the second I stepped off the elevator, the office was in absolute chaos. “The numbers on the London contract are completely screwed up.” “The company just hemorrhaged millions because of that typo.” “Who signed off on it?” Mina was standing outside Silas’s glass office, her eyes puffy and red. “Aria, did you handle this contract yesterday?” Silas’s voice cut through the noise. I walked over and looked at the printed document on the desk. The final payout amount had been altered drastically. “I did not touch those numbers.” “Mina said she handed it over to you for final review yesterday evening.” “She insisted on writing it herself. She gave it to me to check, I corrected a few formatting errors, but I know for a fact the financial figures were correct when it left my desk.” Mina let out a choked sob. “Aria, I know you hate me for taking your promotion, but you really did not have to do this. You can be mad at me, but you cannot mess with the company’s money! You know how much blood and sweat Mr. Blackwood put into building this place!” Silas stepped out of his office. His gaze landed on me like a physical weight. “Did you review the contract?” “Yes. But I verified the numbers. I only fixed the formatting.” 5 “She says you changed the payout.” “And you just blindly believe her? Silas, I have given this company six years of my life. Have I ever made a mistake this pathetic?” The entire floor went dead silent. Silas looked at me, his dark eyes colder than a Seattle winter. “Aria, you are suspended.” He paused, making sure his voice carried down the hallway. “Effective immediately, human resources will freeze your portfolio. Every project you have completed, every piece of revenue you claim to have brought in, is now void.” “Because you have proven that you lack the basic professionalism required for your role.” Lacking professionalism. He took six years of my youth, my loyalty, and my late-night panic attacks, compressed them into two words, and slapped me across the face with them. All those midnight emails. All the new hires I trained. All the moments he sat in boardrooms and nodded at me with pride. None of it mattered anymore. He wiped my existence from the company with a single sentence. “And frankly, you should be grateful you failed the promotion,” he added ruthlessly. “This company does not tolerate emotional sabotage in upper management.” I stared at him, swallowing hard. I tried to force my voice out, but there was a massive lump blocking my throat. I could not make a sound. The whispers started again, crawling out from the cubicles like roaches. “Who does she think she is? Editing contracts because she throws a fit?” “She really thought the CEO would cover for her just because they were hooking up.” “Let me make something abundantly clear,” Silas announced to the floor. “Aria and I have absolutely no personal relationship.” He turned back to the staff. “The office rumors end today.” Silence fell over the room. Silas grabbed Mina by the wrist and pulled her toward the elevator. She leaned into his side, looking like a frightened bird. “Do not stress over this. I will handle the fallout,” he told her softly. “Do not let this ruin your mood for London.” I watched his broad shoulders disappear into the elevator. He felt so incredibly far away. Like I had never known him at all. That evening, I packed up my desk. As I walked out of the glass doors holding a cardboard box, I saw Mina’s latest social media post. It was a picture of a VIP airport lounge. Silas’s back was visible in the distance. [Taking off for London with the boss! The future is bright!] A second later, a text from Silas popped up on my screen. [I am heading to London. I will be back next Wednesday. We need to have a serious talk when I return.] I stared at the message. Talk about what? The 58 he gave me? The million-dollar diamond around his intern’s neck? The fact that he publicly humiliated me and erased my career in front of a hundred people? I went to his contact profile, hit “Block,” and deleted the chat history. The night wind whipped through my hair as I carried my box down into the subway station. By the time he landed back in Seattle, Aria would no longer exist in his world. It was past midnight when I got back to the apartment. I dropped the box in the hallway, walked into the bedroom, and ripped open the closet doors. I shoved my clothes into two large suitcases. I emptied the bathroom drawers. I tossed out half-used lipsticks, old notebooks, and tangled chargers. When I reached the very back of my nightstand, my fingers brushed against a small wooden box. I opened it. Inside was a stack of polaroids. Springtime, six years ago. Our very first date. He was standing under a blooming cherry tree. I had pointed the camera at him, and he had looked down at me, a genuine, unguarded smile on his face. The next photo was our two-year anniversary. He booked a ridiculously expensive steakhouse. I told him we should split it. He smiled and said, “Not tonight.” The next was my birthday, year three. He gave me a woolen scarf. The price tag, still tucked inside, said $25.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “582302”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After successfully completing my mission, I chose to stay for Adam Lannister. Perhaps because I didn’t belong to this world, in our fifth year of marriage, I still hadn’t conceived. Just as everyone was secretly mocking me for failing to produce an heir for the wealthy Lannister family. Adam returned with a test report, which showed that he was the one who couldn’t have children. The Lannister family, who had always been cold and sarcastic towards me, immediately changed their tune. For my sake, Adam took all the blame upon himself. He said he loved me, that he didn’t want to divorce me, even if I couldn’t conceive, even if we never had our own biological children, he didn’t want to leave. Later, he took it upon himself to arrange for us to adopt a child, and our lives became calm and happy. Until today, when I suddenly received an email. The email stated that the child Adam and I had adopted, the precious baby I had cherished for ten years, was Adam’s illegitimate son. 1. Today marks my wedding anniversary with Adam Lannister. Under the envious gazes of onlookers, Adam and our son, like a prince and his knight, came before me, presenting me with an anniversary gift. It was a star named after me. “Jenny, you are truly blessed. Your husband loves you, and your son is so thoughtful,” my friend said. Indeed, to outsiders, I was undeniably a winner in life. I arrived in this world at eighteen, married Adam Lannister at twenty-two. Now, our son, Leo, is eight years old, intelligent and adorable. My life has been smooth sailing, full of happiness and contentment. The only bump in the road, perhaps, was the fact that in the five years after marrying Adam, I hadn’t conceived. Everyone assumed it was my problem; even I believed it. Because I didn’t truly belong to this world. But as the only son of the Lannister family, an heir was crucial. Facing constant criticism and pressure from the Lannister family, Adam was caught in the middle, torn between loyalties. Until one day, Adam brought back a medical report. It showed that he was the one who couldn’t have children. From that moment on, no one dared to utter the words “childbearing” in front of Adam and me. To be with me, he was willing to endure all the gossip and criticism. “I don’t want you to be sad, or to blame yourself, or to feel burdened. All the pressure, I can bear it alone.” He said. With such a husband, what more could a wife ask for? Recalling the past, a flood of emotions overwhelmed me, and tears streamed down my face. “Such a grown woman, still so prone to crying,” Adam said, gently wiping away my tears as he comforted me. I stared into his loving eyes, shaking with sobs. His love for me really didn’t seem fake. But he could also love me, while simultaneously bringing his illegitimate son home as an adopted child, keeping me completely in the dark. For five whole years. He had played me for a fool for five years. 2. Outside, the night was deep and dark, with only a dim bedside lamp illuminating the room. I lay with my back to Adam Lannister, pretending to be asleep. Adam sensed my low spirits and asked with concern, “What’s wrong? Still worried about Leo’s birthday?” Yes, Leo’s birthday was just a week away. I had been so busy planning the perfect birthday for Leo these past few days, but now, I no longer had the heart for it. The content of the email was like a thorn, deeply embedded in my heart, leaving me no peace. Adam suddenly got out of bed, opened the nightstand drawer, and pulled out an exquisite wooden box. “Oh, almost forgot. Look at this,” he said, opening the box. Inside was a diamond necklace, sparkling brilliantly under the light. “Isn’t it beautiful? I had it specially custom-made for you. Do you like it?” he asked gently, picking up the necklace. Looking at Adam, my eyes stung. He was always so thoughtful; throughout our marriage, I had received countless little surprises. But what were these surprises compared to the package I received this morning? I closed my eyes, the contents of that package still vivid in my memory. It was a paternity test report, along with several intimate photos of Adam and a woman. I recognized the woman in the photos: Maya Thorne, the housekeeper’s daughter, who had gone abroad years ago and recently returned. And the paternity test report clearly stated: Adam Lannister and Leo, a paternal relationship is supported. Leo was already ten years old. This meant that as early as our third year of marriage, Adam had already been unfaithful. 3. Leo’s birthday party was lavishly arranged; almost half the city’s elite were present. I stood beside Adam, elegantly playing the role of hostess. The banquet proceeded smoothly, with guests clinking glasses, chatting and laughing, a scene of joyful revelry. “Mrs. Lannister looks so young and beautiful, one would never guess she’s the mother of a ten-year-old,” a socialite said, holding a glass of champagne and complimenting me with a smile. “Indeed, Mr. Lannister is truly fortunate,” another echoed. I looked at Leo, diligently eating cake in the distance, and smiled modestly, a hint of bitterness in my heart. Leo was indeed well-behaved and thoughtful. For years, I had treated him as my own son, but after learning the truth, I truly didn’t know how to face him. The accident happened suddenly. As soon as Leo finished his cake, red rashes suddenly appeared on his face, as if he was having an allergic reaction. “Leo, what’s wrong?” Even though I knew Leo’s true identity, the child was innocent. I quickly put down my champagne and rushed over to check on him. “Mom, I’m itchy…” Leo scratched at his face in discomfort, his small face scrunched up. “Quick, call a doctor!” Adam was also flustered. Seeing Leo’s distress, I fumbled in my bag for tissues, wanting to wipe the sweat from his face, but my mother-in-law shoved me aside. “How could there be mango in the cake? Don’t you know the child is allergic to it?!” “What kind of mother are you?!” My mother-in-law glared at me furiously. “Just because he wasn’t born from your belly, you don’t feel any affection for him, do you?!” Hearing those words, I froze. My mother-in-law’s words exploded in my ears like thunder. Adam’s mother had always disliked me. In the past, I would have just thought she was indirectly criticizing me for not being able to have children. But her attitude towards Leo was clearly that of a doting grandmother! Connecting all the dots, I uncovered a shocking truth. This entire Lannister family—was I the only one kept in the dark? My mother-in-law was still nagging me, but Adam stepped forward, shielding me, his tone stern: “Mom, I arranged this birthday party, and the cake was also my choice. It has nothing to do with Jenny; please don’t blame her.” My mother-in-law still wanted to say something, but seeing Adam’s gaze, she eventually closed her mouth. The family doctor arrived quickly, examined Leo, and confirmed it was a mango allergy. I looked at Leo’s red and swollen face with a pang of heartache, gently holding his hand, wanting to offer some comfort. But Leo forcefully pulled his hand away, saying tearfully, “I don’t want Mom, I want Dad!” Seeing the child’s strong resistance towards me, the guests at the party looked on with strange expressions. Helpless, I could only get up and go to the room to get Leo a change of clothes. When I returned, I overheard Adam softly asking Leo. “There was no mango in the cake. You secretly ate it yourself, didn’t you?” Leo’s small face turned even paler, his eyes darting away, not daring to look at Adam. “Speak up!” Adam’s voice hardened. Leo’s tears welled up in his eyes. “I ate it myself.” “Why would you do that?” Adam’s voice turned cold. Leo bit his lip, hesitated for a moment, then whispered, “I wanted Grandma to think that Mom doesn’t like me. That way, Maya-Mommy could come pick me up…” Adam’s face instantly changed. He grabbed Leo’s shoulders, his tone stern: “Who told you these things?!” Leo was startled by Adam, and his tears finally streamed down. He sobbed, “Maya-Mommy told me… I miss her. If I want to see her every day, I have to do this.” Adam took a deep breath. He released Leo’s shoulders, speaking in a serious tone: “Leo, listen to me clearly. If you still want to be my son, don’t ever do such a foolish thing again.” “But I just miss Maya-Mommy…” Leo tried to say something else, but Adam cut him off. “Don’t mention her again!” Adam said. “As long as you’re in this house, don’t mention her.” “Okay,” Leo pouted. Adam watched Leo agree, and his tone gradually softened. He said gently, “Leo, I know you like her, but if you listen to Dad, you’ll have two mothers, and you’ll be the most loved child by all three of us.” Leo looked up, his eyes misty with tears, and softly asked, “Really?” “Of course, it’s true,” Adam smiled and nodded. “When has Dad ever lied to you?” “Then I want to see Maya-Mommy, can I?” Leo asked. Adam hesitated for a moment, but eventually nodded. And watching this scene of doting father and son, I only felt absurdity. 4. I remembered when Leo first came to the Lannister household, he was already five years old, which was really not an ideal age to be adopted. But Adam liked him. He said they had a special connection. I held his hand, gently telling him, “Leo, this will be your home from now on.” I had the staff prepare the best room in the house for him as his bedroom. The room was filled with all sorts of toys, all carefully chosen by me. In the evenings, I would tell him bedtime stories and lull him to sleep. He was very dependent on me, always wanting to cling to me. Under everyone’s care, Leo gradually grew into a sunny, cheerful, lively, and adorable boy. He loved to cuddle, always hugging my legs and sweetly calling me “Mom.” Every time he did, my heart would melt. Somehow, two years ago, Leo asked me. “Mom, will you love me forever?” I smiled, pulling him into my embrace, gently patting his back as tenderly as if rocking a baby to sleep: “Of course, Mom will always love you.” “What if one day, I do something wrong and make you angry?” he asked, seemingly still unsure. “No matter what happens, will Mom still love me?” “Even if I’m not Mom’s child, will Mom still love me?” My heart tightened then. I thought someone had told him something, making him believe adopted children weren’t truly loved. So I playfully tweaked his small nose, my voice doting: “No matter what happens, Mom will still love you just the same, because you’re Mom’s most precious child.” But later, Leo became more and more distant from me. I would ask him how school was, how his studies were, and if he had encountered any difficulties. He always acted distant, giving only perfunctory answers like “It’s fine,” “Okay,” “No.” I felt very disheartened and sad about this. I even wondered if I had done something wrong to displease him. I told Adam about these things. But he merely said, casually, “Children grow up and have their own little secrets; it’s normal. Don’t overthink it.” Now that I think about it, two years ago was when Maya Thorne returned to the country. They had already reconnected. 5. I lay awake all night, my eyes dry, yet I couldn’t sleep. Adam Lannister and Leo were already dressed and ready to go out, both in casual clothes, seemingly in good spirits. “Jenny, Leo and I are going out. We won’t be back for lunch.” I nodded, saying nothing. “I’ll be going then,” Adam said, taking Leo’s hand and turning to leave. “Wait a moment.” I called out to him. Adam turned back, looking at me with confusion. I walked up to them, crouched down, straightened Leo’s collar, tied his shoelaces, and then discreetly slipped the wiretap I had prepared into his pocket. “Would you… like me to go with you?” I finally ventured. Adam and Leo both paused simultaneously, then shook their heads in unison. “No need, we’ll be fine on our own,” Adam said. “That’s right, Mom, you stay home and rest,” Leo added. I had already become the superfluous one between father and son. Watching their receding backs, I picked up my phone and called the private detective: “Please investigate Maya Thorne’s whereabouts. I need to know where she is now.” In less than ten minutes, the private detective sent Maya Thorne’s location: the city’s largest amusement park. I changed into clothes suitable for movement, put on sunglasses and a mask, and drove straight to the amusement park. Soon, I found Adam Lannister and Leo. Maya Thorne was also with them. Upon seeing Maya Thorne, Leo immediately rushed excitedly into her arms. Maya Thorne affectionately hugged Leo, kissing him on the cheek. “Leo, do you miss Maya-Mommy?” Maya Thorne asked gently. Leo nodded happily, “Yes!” Hidden in the shadows, I listened to the conversation between the three of them through the wiretap, my heart aching. “Leo, tell Mommy, do you like Maya-Mommy, or do you like your current mom?” Maya Thorne asked Leo while Adam went to buy ice cream. I was also very curious about the answer to that question. Leo hesitated for a moment, then whispered, “I like Maya-Mommy…” My heart plunged. “Maya-Mommy, I’m going to tell you a secret, don’t tell Dad.” Maya Thorne paused, then nodded, “Okay, I won’t tell her.” Leo leaned in close to Maya Thorne’s ear and whispered, “Actually… I kinda hate my current mom.” “Why?” “Because my current mom is so mean. She always forces me to study, and won’t let me eat candy, or play games… She’s like the old witch in the comics, so annoying, so annoying.” So that’s the image I had in Leo’s mind. Maya Thorne stroked his head, saying softly, “That’s because your current mom doesn’t love you. Only Maya-Mommy loves you the most.” “Really?” Leo looked up and asked. “Of course, it’s true,” Maya Thorne affirmed with a nod. “Maya-Mommy will buy you lots and lots of candy, and play lots and lots of games with you, and won’t force you to learn things you don’t like.” But if she truly loved the child, why would she use the child’s health to gain status? That kind of maternal love was too shallow. 6. Adam returned, and Maya Thorne, smiling sweetly, took two steps closer, reaching out to link her arm through Adam’s, but he subtly dodged her. “Adam, are you still angry with me?” Maya Thorne wasn’t annoyed; instead, she pressed even closer, almost clinging to Adam. Adam subtly retreated, maintaining his distance: “Maya, I hope you understand that Leo is now Jenny’s and my child. I don’t want him to be fed incorrect ideas, nor do I want you to mistakenly believe you can replace Jenny as my wife.” “I know, I know.” Maya Thorne agreed with her mouth, but her hand restlessly caressed Adam’s chest, her voice seductive. “But, he is my child after all…” Adam caught her wandering hand, his eyes cold: “Maya, don’t forget you abandoned him at the orphanage. If my mother hadn’t found him, he’d be suffering somewhere right now.” “Who told you not to acknowledge us back then? Did you expect a twenty-year-old unmarried woman to run around with a child? What would people think of me?” “That was your own doing! If you hadn’t snuck into my room during the chaos, things wouldn’t have turned out this way!” Maya Thorne cooed, “I know I was wrong, Adam, don’t be angry.” As she spoke, she pressed herself against him, her hot lips against his earlobe, her breath like a delicate orchid: “Your old hen at home can’t lay eggs. If it weren’t for me, you might not even have your own biological child now.” “Are you truly willing to give the vast Lannister fortune to an outsider with no blood ties?” “Hmm? And do you really hate me that much? Your body is more honest than you are, Adam…” Adam’s body visibly stiffened, his breathing becoming ragged. “Which hotel are we going to next?” I didn’t want to hear the rest. I stumbled back to the car, my hands trembling as I tossed the wiretap aside. Disgusting, utterly disgusting. I had finally understood. It turned out that in our third year of marriage, Maya Thorne had taken advantage of Adam’s drunken state and climbed into his bed. She had intended to seize the opportunity to move up in status, but even after she became pregnant, Adam refused to acknowledge her, offering her money to terminate the pregnancy. But Maya Thorne, unexpectedly, didn’t. After giving birth to Leo and abandoning him at an orphanage, she went abroad to enjoy herself. Later, when I couldn’t conceive, Adam’s mother, in her anxiety, somehow found Leo. To prevent his biological son from suffering outside, Adam brought Leo home as an adopted child. And two years ago, when Maya Thorne returned to the country, Adam had another family. This was a fact known to everyone in the Lannister family; I was the only one who didn’t know. They truly played me for a fool! Just as I was on the verge of breaking down, I heard the long-absent system voice. “Beep—” A mechanical female voice, cold and devoid of emotion: “Detecting host’s emotions nearing collapse. Does host wish to leave current world?” After the mission was successfully completed, the system asked if I wanted to leave this world, and I refused. I hadn’t expected her to still be here after all these years. I looked up blankly, seeing the familiar light screen, displaying Adam Lannister’s name, and below it, a vivid red “90.” That was Adam Lannister’s favorability rating for me. Even now, his favorability towards me was still so high. It turned out he could truly love me while simultaneously indulging in affairs with other women. I gave a bitter smile, wiping away a tear, my voice hoarse: “Yes, I want to leave here.” 7. “Host, are you sure you want to leave? Upon leaving, the host will lose all memories of this world.” I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Yes, I’m sure.” I no longer wanted to remember these painful memories. I only wanted to return to my own world and start anew. This time, I wouldn’t hesitate. “Alright, Host. Memory erasure sequence initiated. Within two months, your bodily organs will slowly decline, leading to complete death.” Only two months until I die. In that moment, I suddenly wondered what expressions Adam Lannister and Leo would wear if I died. But I quickly dismissed the thought. I found that all the heartbreaking emotions I had previously felt—the urge to confront Adam about why he did this to me, why he let another woman bear his child, why he kept me in the dark for so many years—were completely gone. I asked the system, “Why don’t I feel any pain anymore?” The system’s cold voice echoed in my mind: “The process of bodily decay will be extremely painful. Out of humanitarian consideration, I will suppress your pain sensation as well.” I was very grateful for this system mechanism. Because of it, when I learned that Adam Lannister and Leo had been in a car accident, I didn’t waste any emotion on them. When I arrived at the hospital, Adam Lannister was in emergency surgery. The doctor said that in the final moments, Adam had shielded Leo with his body, suffering severe injuries himself. Leo’s small body was curled in Maya Thorne’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably, tears and snot smearing his face, looking utterly pitiful. Adam’s mother rushed to the emergency room door and saw this very scene. She walked forward with a pang of heartache, gently stroking Leo’s hair, asking with concern, “Is Leo alright?” Maya Thorne shook her head, her voice choked: “Madam, Leo is fine, but the doctor just ran some tests on me, and said…” Adam’s mother’s heart jumped into her throat, and she asked nervously, “Tests? What tests? What did the doctor say?” Maya Thorne bit her lip, as if gathering courage, then slowly said, “The doctor said… I’m pregnant.” Adam’s mother froze, and it took her a while to react, asking incredulously, “You… what did you say?” A shy blush spread across Maya Thorne’s face, and she nodded gently: “It’s true, Madam, I’m pregnant. It’s… it’s Leo’s little brother or sister.” Adam’s mother’s face instantly lit up with joy, and she clasped Maya Thorne’s hand, exclaiming excitedly, “Good, good, good! This is truly wonderful! This is absolutely wonderful!” “Our Lannister family finally has a new addition!” She was giddy with happiness, but her smile froze when she saw my emotionless eyes. I quietly watched them, my heart completely undisturbed, as if they were performing a play that had nothing to do with me. The system was right; I felt no pain now, not even heartache. I just found it laughable, incredibly laughable. When Adam Lannister woke up, it was half a month later. During this time, Maya Thorne had effortlessly moved into the Lannister family home. Including me, everyone in the Lannister family accepted it calmly. A wealthy family, keeping a mistress was quite normal. And I couldn’t have children, so what right did I have to cause a scene? Only Adam Lannister was not calm. I sat by his bed, idly peeling an apple. Adam hesitated for a moment, then cautiously took my hand. After a long silence, he spoke with difficulty, “Jenny, even though Maya is truly pregnant.” “But it’s okay. I’ll make her abort the child.” “Leo’s birth was an accident, but I won’t let accidents happen again. You have to believe me, I’ve always only loved you.” “Leo’s mother will also only be you.” Adam Lannister’s mouth moved, opening and closing. I looked at him, and he just seemed like a stranger. “It’s fine,” I said. Adam Lannister froze.

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1 Six years ago, my mother escaped my father’s abuse through a bitter divorce. Today, she’s one of this city’s most brilliant entrepreneurs, a guest on a prime-time true-crime talk show. On air, the host prodded her to confront her past, urging her to look into the camera and ask me, “Annie, why did you lie for that monster all those years ago? Why did you commit perjury to help him?” I was propped up in bed, the diagnosis in my hand—stage four bone cancer—crinkling in my grip. A dry, mocking laugh escaped my lips. “Tessa,” I whispered to her image on the screen, “you deserved every last hit.” I still remember my final words to her back then: “Don’t you ever come back for us. If you do, my father and I—the two ‘demons’—we’ll make sure you don’t leave alive.” On the show, my mother let out a cold laugh, telling the entire nation, “I knew it from the start. She’s a bad seed, born rotten. Just like her beast of a father.” She’ll never know. She’ll never know that I traded my life for her ten years of peace. … The broadcast ended. I stared at the static-filled screen for a long time before slowly getting out of bed. I walked to the cramped hallway and pulled out the small, smoky grill cart I used to sell food. Mrs. Gable from next door stepped out, rushing to help me. “Annie, dear, you’re going out this late?” I gently pushed her hands away. “It’s alright, Mrs. Gable. You’ve done more than enough for me over the years.” She paused, her eyes welling up. “I saw the show, Annie. Are you really not going to tell your mother the truth? She’s so wealthy now. If she knew…” “Mrs. Gable!” I cut her off, my voice sharp. “She doesn’t need to know.” “I can support myself with the cart. I’ll pay back the money I owe you as soon as I can.” With that, I summoned every ounce of strength I had and pushed the heavy cart away. My mother was a star that had fallen into the mud. She never belonged in this filthy world, and she didn’t need to know its filthy secrets. Besides, the doctor said I had a week, at most. Soon, I’d take this secret with me to hell, right alongside that monster. The night market was a chaotic symphony of sights and sounds. I found my usual spot and laid out the skewers on the grill, the acrid smoke stinging my eyes. Suddenly, a sharp voice cut through the noise. “There she is! Wreck it!” I looked up. Jasmine, my mother’s adopted daughter and chosen heir, was striding toward me, flanked by bodyguards. “You little trash,” she sneered. “Still have the face to be out here peddling your filth?” She kicked the grill over, sending hot coals scattering across the pavement. “If you hadn’t lied on the stand, my mother wouldn’t have suffered so much! You’re a monster, just like him. Why don’t you just die already!” Her palm cracked against my cheek. For a moment, all sound vanished from my right ear. The few customers at nearby stalls stared. Someone actually clapped. “So that’s Annie Wei, the girl who defended her abusive dad! Serves her right!” Jasmine grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me to the ground. My knee landed on the searing hot coals. A scream tore from my throat as I thrashed against the agony. But ever since the cancer took hold, my bones had become as fragile as glass; the slightest knock could cause a fracture. Against Jasmine’s assault, I was helpless. I could only lie there as she sat on me, raining down blow after blow. The scene felt sickeningly familiar, a replay of six years ago. Jasmine had bullied me for three years in school, cornering me in bathrooms, beating me until I was bruised and bloody. But I still preferred school. Because the beatings at home, from my father, were always worse. “Jasmine.” A familiar, cool voice drifted from above. The fists stopped. Jasmine scrambled off me, turning to face my mother. Her expression instantly shifted to one of a wounded victim. “Aunt Tessa, what are you doing here?” My mother stood at the edge of the crowd. She wore a beige trench coat, her hair pinned back immaculately. Every gesture radiated the quiet confidence of a mature, successful woman. She didn’t even spare me a glance. She took Jasmine’s hand gently. “Does it hurt?” Jasmine whined, “Yes. Her skin is so tough, my knuckles are all red.” My mother bent her head and blew softly on Jasmine’s hand. “Let the bodyguards handle this sort of thing next time.” I watched the tender scene unfold, my arms trembling as I tried to subtly wipe the blood from my mouth with my sleeve. Tessa had raised her daughter well. Charming and cute, with the perfect amount of a rich girl’s entitlement. “Aunt Tessa, her little stand doesn’t even have a permit! I already called my uncle at code enforcement. They’ll be here to haul it away any minute!” A tremor of fear shot through me. This cart was my only source of income. After paying back Mrs. Gable, there was just enough left for painkillers. My nails dug into my palms as I forced myself to meet my mother’s gaze. She looked at me, a long, deep look, and did nothing to stop it. A few minutes later, city officials arrived and confiscated everything. Jasmine was ecstatic. “Aunt Tessa, you’re the best to me. Little vermin like her don’t deserve a way to live!” I fought against the searing pain in my bones, managing only a pained smile. The word “Mom” rose in my throat, but I swallowed it back down. “Ms. Lu,” I said, “Jasmine isn’t the right choice.” Jasmine’s eyes flashed with anger. “What did you say? Who do you think you are to talk?” I ignored her, keeping my voice steady as I looked at my mother. “Her character isn’t suited to be your heir. You should keep looking.” My mother’s eyes were fixed on my pale face. I saw her fist clench inside her coat pocket. Her voice was laced with scorn. “Who I choose as my heir is none of your damn business.” A sharp sting filled my nose. All I could do was offer another weak smile as I watched my mother lead Jasmine away and climb into a Porsche. After a long moment, I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head with a trembling hand, hiding the fresh bruises on my face. I cleaned up the mess amidst the pointing fingers and whispered insults, then limped back to my tiny apartment. Inside the Porsche, Tessa spoke quietly to her assistant. “Look into any and all contact between Jasmine and Annie Wei.” Jasmine’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Aunt Tessa, you’re investigating me… because of something she said?!” She looked at my mother’s cold profile, her lip trembling. “We’re mother and daughter… Mom…” Tessa shot her a sideways glance. “Jasmine, you’re overstepping. If you are qualified, you will become my successor. There is no need to bring our relationship into it.” A dark cloud passed over Jasmine’s face as she clenched her fists. 2 My mother was born into wealth. She cut ties with her family to marry my father, a simple fisherman named Rick. Rick was a monster, but he played the part of a loving husband just long enough for my mother to give birth. “Useless bitch, couldn’t even give me a son! I’ll beat you to death!” He never held back, raining fists and feet on my mother right in front of me. I never cried. I just watched. As a little girl, I didn’t understand that crying was a way to show sadness or pity. I only knew that if Mom was crying, then I couldn’t. Eventually, I learned the patterns of his rage. Whenever Rick went out drinking, I’d slip a sleeping pill into my mother’s water. Then I’d go downstairs and wait for him. I would provoke him, and he would unleash all his drunken fury on me. And my mother would be safe. My sweet, naive mother. She had been so sheltered growing up. No matter how badly he hurt her, she would just hold me and cry, telling me to believe in love, to believe there was still good in the world. I would look at her, my heart a piece of ice. Mom didn’t belong here. She was a golden phoenix fallen into a cesspool. No matter the cost, I had to lift her out. I woke from a nightmare and used the wall to steady myself as I made my way to the basement. Since the cancer had advanced, every bone in my body ached. They fractured at the slightest impact, and the wounds were slow to heal. Jasmine’s beating today had left me with a limp. The damp, cold air sent sharp pains shooting up my ankle. Rick was chained to the wall. He heard me approach and lifted his head. His cloudy, ancient eyes widened in a mix of fear and rage. “You little monster! I raised you for over a decade, and this is how you repay me? Did you forget who took you to the clinic when that john broke your leg?” I looked at him, my expression blank. “And who sent me to that john in the first place?” He was momentarily stunned, then let out a cold laugh. “So what if it was me? If you didn’t sell yourself, how was I supposed to get money for my gambling?” The chains rattled as he leaned closer. “You’ve been turning tricks for years. Did your mother ever come looking for you? What do you think she’d do if she knew her precious daughter started at fourteen? She’d probably puke.” I watched his mouth open and close, feeling nothing. There was a time when his words would have cut me to the bone, left me bleeding with shame and hatred. But I was already dying. What did any of it matter now? I turned and picked up a pair of pliers from a nearby shelf, testing their weight in my hand. Rick’s smile vanished. “What are you doing?” I grabbed his jaw, forcing his mouth open. I raised the pliers. “If you can’t learn to speak like a human,” I said coldly, “then you don’t need these teeth.” His eyes bulged in terror as a muffled scream escaped his throat. “Annie!” An inhuman shriek echoed through the basement. 3 The next morning, I got a fine from code enforcement. Two thousand dollars. Jasmine’s revenge was vicious. I emptied every last cent I had to my name to pay it. Now I didn’t even have money for painkillers, let alone what I owed Mrs. Gable. My body was deteriorating by the day. Time was running out. I turned down a waitress job a neighbor offered me. Instead, holding a flyer for a clinical research facility, I headed to the outskirts of the city. The lab was stark and bare. The pay was five thousand dollars a session. Your life was your own risk. I signed the contract and was led to a simple gurney. The needle in the doctor’s hand gleamed under the fluorescent lights. I closed my eyes, one thought repeating in my mind. Pay back Mrs. Gable, then go to hell with that monster. It’s worth it. My broken, worthless life for my mother’s happiness. It’s worth it. “Annie!” A vicious slap cracked across my face, so hard it sent me sprawling from the gurney to the floor. I coughed, blood sputtering from my lips. Dazed, I looked up. My mother was standing over me, her eyes blazing with a fury and terror I had never seen before. “Are you trying to kill yourself?!” She grabbed my wrist to haul me up. The second her fingers touched my arm, she froze. Beneath the thin layer of skin, there was only sharp, unyielding bone. Like a dead branch in winter, ready to snap. Her hand stayed there, suspended. After a moment, she looked at me, her lips trembling. “Why… why are you so thin?” Her eyes reddened, but the flicker of sorrow was immediately consumed by a deeper rage. She threw my arm down, her voice shrill. “Annie, look at you! Look at what you’ve become! You let them beat you, curse you, and you don’t even fight back! And now you’re here, selling your life for drug trials? Are you that pathetic?!” She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving. “How could I have a daughter like you? I can’t believe it. I, Tessa Lu, raised a daughter who would let herself live like this!” Every word was a poisoned dart, striking me right in the heart. I lowered my eyes as a single tear hit the floor. Being scorned by my own mother… it hurt more than the cancer. Jasmine’s assistant had appeared in the doorway. He whispered something in her ear. Jasmine’s eyes lit up. She hooked her arm through my mother’s, her voice dripping with fake concern. “Aunt Tessa, don’t be angry. People like her aren’t worth your energy.” She looked down at me, her expression openly triumphant. “I bet you don’t know how she’s really been living all these years, do you, Aunt Tessa? By spreading her legs. Selling skewers by day, selling herself by night.” She pulled a stack of photos from her purse and threw them. They scattered across the linoleum floor. They were pictures of me. In bed. With a series of different men. 4 My mother picked one up, her hand shaking uncontrollably. “Annie, are you that desperate for men? Are you that depraved?!” A crowd had gathered. I could hear their whispers. “She’ll really sleep with anyone, won’t she.” “No wonder Ms. Lu disowned her. She’s utterly shameless.” The veins on the back of my mother’s hand stood out as she gripped the photos, her gaze so intense it felt like it was peeling my skin off. “You’re coming with me.” She grabbed my arm, her grip so tight I thought the bone would shatter. “To the hospital! And then to the police station! You are going to turn yourself in and confess every sordid thing you’ve ever done!” She dragged me two steps before my bad leg gave out. I looked up at her taut, furious profile. “Mom.” She stopped. My voice was a fragile whisper. “Having a daughter like me… does it bring you so much shame?” She turned, her eyes red-rimmed and raw. She ground the words out through her teeth. “If you needed money, why didn’t you come to me? Would it have killed you to just apologize?” She shook me by the shoulders, her nails digging into my flesh. “Come with me and confess! I’ll beg the police for leniency.” I opened my mouth to speak, but froze. A familiar figure had appeared in the doorway. It was Rick. He was covered in filth and blood, a knife clutched in his hand. His eyes were bloodshot as he roared, his words slurred and indistinct, “Bitch! I’ll kill you!” He charged toward my mother, the tip of the blade aimed straight for her heart. My mother stood frozen. He was too close. There was no time to move. Jasmine cowered in the distance, screaming at her assistant. “What did you do?! Why is he going after Aunt Tessa? If anything happens to her, I’ll kill you!” But someone is always faster than a blade. Without a second of hesitation, I shoved my mother out of the way. The moment the knife sank into my chest, it didn’t hurt. A warm liquid just gushed out, dripping from the hilt onto my mother’s expensive coat. Security guards swarmed in, tackling Rick to the ground as he spat muffled curses. I fell backward, into my mother’s arms. Her coat was so soft, and it smelled of a beautiful, clean perfume. I had spent my childhood wondering what it would feel like to be held by her like this. So this was it. Her heart was beating so, so fast. “Annie!! Annie!!” She was calling my name. I tried to keep my eyes open, to look at her. Her tears fell onto my face, warm against my cold skin. I tried to move my lips, to call her “Mom.” But the word was trapped in my throat, and I couldn’t get it out. My mother’s eyes were wild, her voice cracking. “Annie! An ambulance! Somebody call an ambulance!” Jasmine, relieved, walked over and took my mother’s arm. “Aunt Tessa, don’t be so upset. Annie was no good anyway. If she dies, she dies. Just two dogs fighting…” My mother violently threw her arm off. Before Jasmine could react, a voice cried out from the doorway. “That’s a lie!” Mrs. Gable stumbled into the room and fell to her knees beside me. She gathered me into her arms, her tears splashing onto my face. “Annie, you foolish, foolish child…” She looked up at my mother, her old, cloudy eyes filled with tears. “You people have no idea what the truth is. Tessa, the person you’ve wronged most in this life is Annie!”

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Five years into our marriage, William Max brought his pregnant secretary home. “You’re not well, so let her carry the baby.” I looked at him, no tears, no drama, just a nod. As I left, his friends in the living room guffawed: “William’s still got it! Sophia Miller used to be so arrogant, but now she’s completely docile.” “Sophia traded her paintbrush for a spatula, I guess she’s finally returned to her proper place.” William leisurely blew smoke rings. “Can painting put food on the table? She wouldn’t survive without me.” I didn’t say a word, just walked upstairs. My phone lit up with a new message: “Can’t you just come to me?” “You promised.” I texted back: “Okay” 1. “I’ll make the arrangements.” The reply came instantly. I leaned against the door, slowly sliding down. Those words, which had felt muffled moments ago, now echoed with painful clarity. A wave of nausea, a dry heave. I collapsed onto the cold floor. I met Elara Green even before William Max did. A high school graduate, she’d been harassed by a client and fired from her hotel job. Ignoring William’s objections, I got her a position at his company. At first, he complained that I’d hired a ‘princess.’ She couldn’t even use the printer, and her data always had errors. Later, she remained clumsy, spilling coffee all over William. Yet, he, who was always fair, promoted Elara several times until she became his personal secretary. “The person you want to protect, I’ll naturally take good care of.” And he did take excellent care of Elara. The young woman now wore designer clothes and sparkling jewelry. She strutted around, proudly caressing her belly. The first time she came to our house, she seemed a little nervous around me. William grandly gestured, opening the art studio that had been locked for three years. He told her to go in and do whatever she wanted. I thought it was to entertain a guest, so I suppressed my displeasure and watched her paint haphazardly. Until she knocked over a tray of paints, ruining my old artworks. He shielded her, saying she was always clumsy, and I shouldn’t blame her. That’s when I started to grasp the true meaning behind his actions. He said my artistic skill was inferior to the young woman’s. So I learned to cook and make soup. He said I wasn’t as well-behaved as the young woman. So I tried hard to control my temper. He said men sometimes got distracted. But that he always loved me. I believed him. Until that day, when I brought him the new soup I’d learned to make. The man who said he was working late was actually ‘working late’ on the young woman. Clothes lay scattered everywhere. That was our worst fight ever. I took my cat, Luna, and my suitcase and left. He tried to coax me back a few times, but it didn’t work. Then he cut off all my credit cards. When I couldn’t afford Luna’s exorbitant vet bills and cried as I called him for help. He was on a date with Elara, his voice on the other end still calm. “Sophia Miller, you need to be obedient.” Luna died. I learned my lesson. And the young woman stood even taller. My phone screen lit up again. “The hotel is booked.” “Flight tomorrow night, I’ll pick you up.” The churning in my stomach subsided, the buzzing in my ears faded. The weight of my body suddenly returned. I moved my fingers. “Okay.” 2. I painstakingly pulled open my suitcase. The display cabinet in the room was spotless. In the very center sat a worn notebook with dog-eared pages. Beside it, a wooden carved cat, Luna. We adopted her together five years ago. William, his hands covered in scratches, gave me that gift. “Now Luna can be with you forever.” The William of today had personally cut off Luna’s life-saving funds. He had merely frowned. “It’s just a cat.” “Want me to buy you another one?” I didn’t want another cat. Tickets, photos, necklaces, handwritten letters… all the items blurred into a jumbled spot of light before my eyes. I closed my eyes, steadying myself by gripping the cabinet. I wouldn’t look at the display cabinet anymore. I casually threw a few clothes into my suitcase. Then I took off the ring on my hand. I pushed open the window and tossed it out. A tiny glint of silver arced through the air, disappearing into the artificial lake. 3. I dragged my suitcase downstairs. The noisy living room fell silent for a moment. Among his friends, someone’s expression subtly changed. “William, maybe you should try to soothe her? She’s… Miss Miller, after all.” Adrian Brooks remarked. “Yeah, back on the yacht, Mr. Davies just offered her one extra drink, and she threw him and the glass overboard.” William released his arm from Elara’s waist and stood up, walking toward me. He gently and meticulously buttoned my coat. He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head, avoiding him. He wasn’t annoyed, just smiled faintly. “Come back soon after you’ve had your tantrum.” “Elara loves your carp soup.” So it was Elara who drank it. I couldn’t help but recall the feeling of bringing back the empty lunchbox that day. It was a long-lost joy. I hummed a tune, learning how to make other fish soups that very night. The air suddenly felt sucked dry. I had to stop, taking two deep breaths. “I won’t be coming back.” “What?” “I said, I won’t be coming back.” He let out a small, amused shake of his head, not taking my words seriously. “For our fifth anniversary, I was going to take you whale watching in Iceland. It’s the first item on your wish list, you know.” “Don’t be late, Miss Miller.” The outdated title felt like a thorn, gently pricking my heart. But it quickly vanished without a trace. I said nothing, turning to leave. The person who had spoken earlier admired, “William, you truly are something. To break Sophia Miller down like this.” William pulled Elara onto his lap, his smile cold. “There’s no ‘Miss Miller’ now, only Mrs. Max.” “Without me, she wouldn’t last three days.” Laughter and playful sounds spilled out from the not-quite-closed front door. Elara’s giddy giggles were especially distinct. I tightened my grip on the suitcase handle and quickened my pace. 4. Just as I settled into the hotel, my phone rang. A video call from Dorian. I hesitated for two seconds, then swiped to answer. The man was tall and slender, his black shirt buttoned all the way to the top. His handsome eyes held an anxious glint. “How are you feeling now?” I stood barefoot on the soft carpet. A lush green mountain view stretched outside the floor-to-ceiling window. The air was filled with a fresh, bitter orange scent. I let myself sink into the soft, beige sofa. A long-lost sense of relaxation and safety. “Not bad.” He visibly relaxed. “The doctor’s already booked. I’ll pick you up in France tomorrow.” “Mm.” “Can you be alone tonight? I’ve arranged for a companion.” “Yes, I can.” He didn’t hang up, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Dorian?” “Hm?” “You need to board. The announcement is calling.” “Right… see you tomorrow, then.” “Mm, see you tomorrow.” Thinking about seeing him tomorrow, I felt a little uneasy. 5. Dorian was my fan. Many years ago, when I first started learning to paint. I opened a private account on social media. Posting daily exercises and musings. He was my thousandth follower. All these years, I always thought he was a girl. A pink dinosaur avatar, gentle and polite comments, a simple username – Dorian. After I got married, my update frequency decreased, and my likes and comments became fewer. But he was always among the first to respond. I added him as a friend and drew some pieces for him without charge. Three years ago, I completely stopped painting. Occasionally, I used that account to vent my emotions. My follower count dropped to double digits. He was still there. Later, I rarely logged into the account. He started sending me frequent messages. The impossibly blue sky of France. A small cat fighting by the roadside. Texts, videos. We became good friends. Not long ago, Luna passed away. I was in a daze for a long time. It wasn’t until he called that I noticed the 99+ messages. “What’s been happening lately?” A pleasant male voice came through. That’s when I realized he was a man. William never allowed me to interact with other men. But that day, I was too sad. I talked for a very long time. About Luna’s passing, my failing marriage, the paintbrush I’d abandoned. The uncontainable pain poured out like a floodgate. Afterward, I regretted it. Even though he absorbed all my emotions. I hung up the phone, but he sent messages even more patiently. No questions, just beautiful scenery and a single phrase: “Want to come see it?” Later, he video called, looking at me and saying: “Sophia, you’re sick.” I froze. I had insomnia, aches all over my body, and occasionally couldn’t hear sounds. But William said I was just overthinking. Dorian asked me to promise him two things. Always put myself first. Always consider him a friend I could rely on. When I said I wanted to leave but had nowhere to go. He asked, “Can’t you just come to me?” I said, “Okay.” 6. I felt a little disoriented when I arrived at the airport. Years ago, my father, from his sickbed, entrusted both me and the company to William Max. I thought I would never leave. “What’s wrong?” Dorian tilted his head, asking. “Nothing.” He nodded slightly, and the bodyguards at his side naturally gathered closer. He looked cool and distant when speaking to others. But he was exceptionally patient with me. Just then, two familiar figures entered my sight. William Max, with his arm around Elara Green, looking intimate. He suddenly turned his head. Without thinking, I turned and hid myself in Dorian’s arms. He paused, then gently patted my back. “It’s alright.” I clutched his sleeve until we boarded the plane. 7. William Max felt restless. It wasn’t until Elara’s sweet voice reached him that he barely snapped back to reality. Wasn’t Dorian Sterling always in France? Though things had ended messily back then. But for all these years, their two companies had coexisted peacefully. When had he gotten married? He couldn’t help but think of Sophia Miller. All these years, Dorian Sterling had only been rumored with her. Immediately, he dismissed that ridiculous idea. She had never met Dorian Sterling. Besides, three years ago, he forbade them from contacting each other. He still felt a little uneasy. He took out his phone and cut off all of Sophia Miller’s cards. Watching the successful operation prompt, The irritation in his heart finally subsided. After they married, he restricted her social life. Three years ago, he even made her put down her paintbrush. Her every need – food, clothing, shelter – was in his hands. Without him, where could she go? He had intended to let her throw a fit for a few more days this time. But now he changed his mind. He’d indulged her too much, making her wild. When Elara’s child was born, there would be even more trouble. “William, if you’re not taking me to Iceland, you’ll have to make it up to me these next few days.” Elara leaned closer. “Alright.” He replied casually, already calculating when Sophia Miller would give in. 8. The sunlight in France was dazzling, the sea a brilliant blue. The house faced the ocean, and the floor-to-ceiling windows framed the seascape like a beautiful painting. Dorian was very busy, always on video calls, his low voice a constant backdrop. When I woke up startled in the night, the light from the living room under the door crack gave me a sense of peace. I can’t recall how many days had passed when I found myself standing on the porch. Barefoot on the wooden floor, it was a little cool. Before I knew it, I was squatting on the beach. Clutching a handful of sand. Two children were building sandcastles beside me. Dorian found me, wiping away grains of sand from my face with the back of his hand. “Tomorrow, do you want to meet a friend?” He asked, “Just to talk. I’ll be in the next room with you.” I nodded. The room was cream-colored. The lady had a gentle smile and gestured to the sofa opposite her. “You can choose any position you find comfortable, or we can just sit here for a while.” I hugged a throw pillow, curled up in the corner of the sofa closest to the door. Most of the time, I remained silent. I shared fragments, broken, chaotic, and painful memories. She didn’t say, “I understand.” Nor did she say, “You’ll be alright.” She said, “That sounds like a very difficult time.” William would only say: “You’re just overthinking.” “Company matters are stressful enough; don’t add to the trouble.” “You should learn from Elara.” The session wasn’t long. As it ended, she said softly, “If you’re willing, same time next week, I’ll be here.” I felt a little tired as I stepped outside. “How do you feel?” Dorian waited at the door. “She said… ‘that sounds difficult.’” I repeated. He looked at me, nodding gently. “Mm. Let’s go home.” 9. It was the tenth day since Sophia Miller left. William Max was genuinely furious this time. Ten days, not a single text or call. Excellent. She’d really grown audacious. He was seething with rage, smashing a wine glass. “William…” Elara looked over cautiously. “Book tickets, we’re going back.” “Whatever you say, William.” The woman’s obedience temporarily soothed him. Followed by an even deeper anger. Why wouldn’t she ever learn her lesson? He must have been too lenient. When she came back, she’d be grounded for at least three months. Back at the familiar villa. William finally calmed down to think. Her cards were cut off, and mutual friends had all been warned. Where could she go? That best friend, the divorce lawyer? Or those artist friends? He had made her cut ties with all of them long ago. Who else could she rely on besides him? He walked into her room. Nothing was missing from the display cabinet. He picked up the notebook in the center. Opened it, and saw familiar handwriting. He remembered how she used to be a somewhat famous painter. And he, a part-time model. He was drawn to her bright, confident smile. To strike up a conversation with her. He even changed the music he listened to on the subway to dull art history lectures. When she found this notebook, her eyes curved into a smile. His gaze shifted to the carefully framed art exhibition ticket. To get that ticket, which wasn’t for public sale. He went to be a punching bag for others. When the girl, her eyes full of concern, applied medicine to his wounds. He felt it was all worth it for a lifetime. William’s anger suddenly dissipated significantly. If she wouldn’t back down, then he would make the first move. They were going to spend their lives together, after all, so he’d coax her back first. He found the number saved as ‘Wife’ and dialed. A cold, mechanical voice came through the receiver: “The number you have dialed is currently switched off.” 10. Today was my fourth meeting with the lady. But it was different. She led me into a children’s art studio, said “feel free,” and then closed the door. The children in the room looked up at me, then went back to their drawings. I sat in a corner. A little girl with a topknot brought over a drawing board and pencils. Seeing me not take them, she gently placed them beside me. The sunlight was orange-yellow, and the sea of flowers she drew was crimson. The little girl was running in the painting. “That’s really good.” I heard myself say. The little girl shyly pressed her lips together and smiled, pushing the drawing board towards me. The room was very quiet. I don’t know how much time passed, but I picked up the pencil. … I brought the drawing home. Dorian’s eyes lit up when he saw the painting. “Sophia,” he stopped in front of me, “can I hug you?” I nodded. He gently embraced me. I buried my face in his chest, my arms slowly tightening. A very solid, very warm hug. With my permission, he took down the famous painting from the wall and replaced it with mine. “Is it suitable here?” I asked, clutching the hem of my skirt. The cartoonish, childlike drawing seemed out of place in the entire space. He stepped back two paces, looked for a long time, and then, with a serious expression, said: “It’s perfect. I love it.” 11. I went to that children’s art studio more and more frequently. The children here were very quiet. Some children liked to paint with their eyes closed. Some children liked to paint with both hands. The teachers were all very patient, speaking in soft whispers. Here, no one was better at painting than anyone else. Every painting was precious and unique. Just like every child. I walked home light-footed. Watching Dorian skillfully hang my new painting on the wall. My heart suddenly softened. “Can you be my model again?” He froze, his eyes bright, and answered quickly. “Yes.” The art studio had beautiful sunlight, and the paints were all new. This was a place he had shown me on the very first day. But I only walked in today. Dorian didn’t seem to have much experience as a model. His body was a little stiff, letting me arrange him. The sunlight gilded the side of his face. I painted very slowly. When I finished, he leaned in to look, for a long time. “Can I keep this one?” “It was always yours.” He curved his lips and left for his meeting. I sat in the studio, my mood complicated. My friends would be happy for me, knowing I’d picked up my paintbrush again, wouldn’t they? I logged into my social media, and messages flooded in. At the top was a message from my best friend. “Sophia, where have you been? William Max has been looking for you like crazy.” 12. I held my phone, hesitating for a long moment. “I’m fine, in France.” The reply was instantaneous. “As long as you’re okay.” “That Max guy was like a mad dog a while back, harassing all of us.” “Don’t get me wrong, even if I knew where you were, I wouldn’t tell him a single word.” It felt like sucking on an orange candy, tart and sweet, finally leaving a pleasant taste. We hadn’t been in touch much these past two years. But I knew she always cared about me. As I was scrolling through other messages, a call came in. It was Adrian Brooks. Even though William Max had given a warning, he had still secretly paid for Luna’s funeral expenses. His family and mine were old family friends, growing up together. Before the marriage, he disliked William and advised me to break up. After the marriage, William became “Mr. Max,” and Adrian called him “William” affectionately. When William and I argued, Adrian always tried to make us reconcile. Hesitating for a moment, I pressed answer. Adrian’s voice was urgent and noisy: “Sophia! Where did you run off to?!” “This time the fuss is too big, William is really mad, says he wants a divorce!” “We’ve all tried to persuade him countless times, even drank ourselves into the hospital! William said, come back before the fifth anniversary, and we can still talk!” “Hello? Do you hear me?” I didn’t answer. The paint on the canvas hadn’t dried yet. I reached out, my fingertip dipping into the golden yellow of the sun. “I hear you.” “Please tell him I wanted a divorce a long time ago.” Before he could reply. I hung up, then blacklisted him. The person in the painting seemed to be smiling.

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On the set of a live reality show, the celebrity everyone privately nicknamed “The Viper” suddenly snatched my phone. She announced she was doing a surprise “phone inspection” for the cameras. The thing is, I only have one contact in my entire phonebook. The name is saved as “My Sweetest Heart.” When she saw that, her eyes lit up. Without a second’s hesitation, she mashed the call button. A few seconds later, her own phone started ringing. The live-stream chat exploded. 1 And The Viper? She absolutely lost it. Her face became a kaleidoscope of fury and embarrassment. I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a wheezing cackle that sounded like a flock of dying geese. The host just stood there, frozen, with no idea how to salvage the train wreck. After all, The Viper—Seraphina—and I were famous for hating each other’s guts. And now, it looked like the two of us were calling each other pet names in private. Forget her, I was cringing so hard my spine was trying to escape my body. But the thought of making Seraphina squirm was just too delicious. Another wave of honking laughter burst out of me. 2 Seraphina was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She’d stormed into Hollywood to chase a man, and her debut was a nine-figure blockbuster with a cast so star-studded it was intimidating. I, on the other hand, was a nobody. I clawed my way up through indie web series, hoping to snag a few fans by sheer volume of work. Our worlds should never have collided. But a while back, I happened to be in the same city—and the same restaurant—as the latest A-list heartthrob. The paparazzi snapped a picture and ran with it, spinning a whole story about a secret affair. Seraphina went ballistic. Because that A-lister was the man she was famously obsessed with. As soon as she heard I was supposedly with her idol, she put a target on my back. First came the bot-farm-fueled hate trends and the sabotaged castings. Then she started showing up at every event I was at, finding any opportunity to undermine me, to isolate me, until my reputation was in shreds. It was a calculated attack, and I never saw it coming. By the time I realized what was happening, I was branded a desperate, pathetic clout-chaser. My already scarce job offers dried up completely. I was close to not even being able to book a cheap commercial. This reality show was, without a doubt, another one of her traps. But I’d learned my lesson. I came prepared for anything. And not only did I dodge the bullet, I managed to fire one right back. 3 After the phone incident, the set was pure chaos for a long time. Lucas, the A-lister himself, was also a guest on the show. When he first saw the contact name, he kept shooting me these looks, a mix of disgust and certainty, like he was about to tell me to give up my pathetic little crush. Now that the truth was out, he was just as stunned as everyone else. “How could it be? How is that Seraphina’s number? Weren’t you obsessed with me? You even followed me to my hotel.” I just rolled my eyes and played dumb. “Beats me.” Seraphina was frozen solid. After a long, agonizing moment, she stormed over, shoved my shoulder, and spat, “You set me up! How could I possibly be your ‘Sweetest Heart’?” Still refusing to believe it, she started frantically digging through my phone. First, the photo gallery. It was filled with every gorgeous picture she’d ever posted online, from last year to this morning. Not a single one was missing. Next, my DMs. Her chat was pinned to the top, her name saved as “The Most Beautiful Angel in the Universe.” Then, she checked my social media. My private, anonymous account was suddenly on display for the world to see, its feed a cringeworthy monument to cheesy romance quotes. “I can lift a 200-pound barbell, but I can’t lift the thought of you off my mind.” “Your father must have been a thief, because he stole the stars from the sky and put them in your eyes.” “I wish I were your shadow, so I could follow you for the rest of your life.” The most recent post was from yesterday. “Sera, my sweetest heart, my number one darling, you’re living rent-free in my head 24/7.” Seraphina stared at the screen, her expression turning vacant. She looked at it for so long I thought she might burn a hole through the glass, her slender fingers completely still. She only looked up when the host called her name. Her eyes, once sharp and bright, were now filled with a baffled sort of defeat. As the host tried to fill the dead air with loud, fake enthusiasm, she seemed to drift into her own world. Her voice was a fragile, distant whisper when she finally asked the question that seemed to echo from another dimension. “You… you’re really that into me?” I almost burst out laughing again. Of course not. I’d bought the account from a meme page a few days ago. The original owner had collected all those cheesy quotes; I’d only written the last one. But to really twist the knife, I leaned in close, my voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Yeah. Took you long enough to notice, didn’t it?” Seraphina looked horrified. She stumbled back a few steps, the words “Get away from me” practically written on her forehead. Seeing her so freaked out sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated joy through me. It had been so long since I’d felt the thrill of victory. I was giddy with it. I shot her a cocky, triumphant smirk. Her face cycled through that beautiful rainbow of emotions again, finally settling on a deep, burning red as she slowly turned her head away. 4 By the time we left the studio, we were the number one trending topic. #PiperAndSera #PipersNameToSera #SeraSweetestHeart #SerasFacepalm #SeraBlushing #SeraOuted #PiperGetOutOfHollywood Every tag was marked with a little flame icon, indicating it was viral. The internet was on fire. [Piper and Sera, is this for real?] [LOL someone’s asking if it’s real. Of course not! Sera totally ignored her afterward. This is all Piper’s one-sided obsession!] [First she leeches off Lucas, now she’s leeching off Sera. She’ll attach herself to anyone famous!] [My poor Sera, having to deal with this parasite again. There there.] Predictably, the hate was still pouring in for me. But I never expected to fix my reputation overnight. Just surviving her latest trap was a win. I was feeling pretty good about myself. I put on a face mask and drifted off into a deep, satisfied sleep. I was dead to the world when my phone started vibrating like a jackhammer. My agent, Jenna, was calling me over and over again. “What the hell is going on with you and Seraphina? And what does her latest post even mean?” Jenna’s voice roared through the speaker, loud enough to shake the fillings in my teeth. The blast of sound left me dazed and confused. It took me a solid minute to remember the reality show, the phone call, all of it. “Seraphina?” I mumbled. “Oh, I just messed with her a little yesterday.” “And the post? What was that post about?” “She posted something?” I closed my eyes, trying to think. “Probably trashing me.” Jenna sounded like she was about to have an aneurysm. “Are you still in bed? Get up, wash your face, and look at Seraphina’s social media. Then you’re going to call me back and explain to me exactly where you two stand!” The line went dead. I groaned, ready to roll over and go back to sleep, but my eyes caught the notification bubble on my phone. 99+ new messages. I tapped it open. They were all from Seraphina, sent late last night. It was a dizzying wall of text. I had to scroll all the way to the top just to start reading. Sera: I need to think about what happened this afternoon. Sera: I never knew you felt that way about me. Am I really that irresistible? Well, of course I am. I’ve been a heartbreaker since kindergarten. Sera: So all that stuff with Lucas… you were just studying the competition? Sera: You little schemer. You didn’t even try to deny the rumors, did you? Figuring that would get my attention? Sera: Well, it worked. Sera: I admit it. Your little game got to me. Sera: Okay, here’s the deal. If you can win Best Actress, I’ll give you a chance to win me over. Sera: That’s not asking too much, right? Sera: I mean, I’m this amazing. You’ve got to work for it if you want to be worthy of me. … She went quiet for a moment. About ten minutes passed before the next message. Sera: Why aren’t you answering? Giving me the silent treatment? Sera: Is it because my standards are too high? Sera: Fine. I didn’t realize you were so sensitive. Forget the Best Actress award, whatever. I guess I can spoil you a little. Sera: Pick a date. We’ll make it official. Sera: How about in two minutes? It’ll be 10:22. Do you like the number 22? Sera: … Sera: Still not talking? You’re not just messing with me, are you? Sera: It’s 10:25 now! You missed the perfect time! Could you at least try to act like a proper girlfriend! Sera: What is your deal? Sera: You don’t want to go public? Fine. Whatever. Sera: It’s not like I was dying to announce it anyway. LOL, who’s the one who’s desperate here? You’re so full of it. Sera: … Sera: Baby, I’m sorry. Sera: I was just kidding. Please don’t ignore me. Sera: All my money will be yours. Just please talk to me? [Venmo: $20,000] Sera: I maxed out my transfer limit. I’ll sign the deed to my condo over to you tomorrow. Sera: It’s about time we got a place together anyway. Sera: Not that I’m in a rush to get married. I’m only bringing it up because I know you’re probably getting impatient. Don’t get the wrong idea. Sera: What color wedding dress do you like? What style for the house? Do you want to live here or abroad? A year-long honeymoon should be enough, right? I’m not going to spoil you more than that. A woman needs her career, after all. Sera: … Sera: Still ignoring me? Sera: I get it. You’re worried I won’t be… good enough. In that department. Sera: Look, it’ll be my first time with a woman too, but I’m a very fast learner. I promise I won’t disappoint you. Sera: Nothing? You don’t believe me? Sera: You’re playing with fire, woman. Sera: … The more I read, the more awake I became, all traces of sleepiness obliterated. Jenna’s furious shouting echoed in my head, and I finally understood why. My hands trembled as I opened up my social media app. Seraphina’s name was at the top of every trending list. I clicked on it. She had just reposted a trashy tabloid article that accused me of being a clout-chasing parasite. And her caption read: “Touch my woman and you die.” The post had over a hundred thousand comments in minutes. 5 “Blocked! You’re all blocked!” Seraphina was on a rampage, threatening to get every single tabloid account shut down. Her fans were having a meltdown of their own. [Sera, sweetie, what are you doing?] [Are you seriously with Piper?] [Piper has nothing to offer you! Even Lucas would be better, at least he’s on your level!] My vision went dark for a second. Seraphina’s the one who posted it, so how am I the one getting all the hate? Is she trying to get me cyberbullied to death? I scrolled down. It wasn’t just that one post. She was arguing with everyone in the comments. Fan: [Piper is just playing you! Only your fans are loyal to you! Wake up, Sera!] Seraphina reposted that one with her own reply. “Playing me? Impossible. She’s been hopelessly in love with me for years, she was just too scared to admit it. If I hadn’t made the first move, she’d still be pining in secret.” Her fans were devastated. [Piper has no career and no money! She’s obviously just after your fortune!] Sera’s reply: “Then why isn’t she after someone else’s fortune? It’s because she’s in love with me.” [This is a publicity stunt! It has to be!] Sera’s unfiltered response: “LOL, try not to be so bitter.” Finally, at the bottom of the feed, I found an original post from her. Sera: To think that all this time, in places I couldn’t see, someone was loving me for years. She’d even added a blushing smiley face emoji. I was dumbfounded. What was she even talking about? I could read the individual words, but strung together they made absolutely no sense. I didn’t save that many photos of her, just everything from the past year. Does she actually want to be my “Sweetest Heart”? This is a nightmare. I need to go back to sleep. Two minutes later, I shot up in bed, wanting to slap myself. What have I done? Why did I have to create that stupid contact name? What am I supposed to do now? Am I actually going to have to be Seraphina’s girlfriend? No way. I’m straight. A proud, card-carrying straight woman. How am I supposed to be someone’s girlfriend? Although… Seraphina’s not so bad. I mean, besides being completely unhinged, she’s actually pretty normal. Maybe I should just text her and clear this whole thing up. I picked up my phone, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Just then, a message from Jenna popped up on the screen. “I think I have the gist of the situation now. Just a friendly reminder: when Seraphina thought you were her rival, she made your life a living hell. Can you imagine what she’ll do if she finds out you were just playing with her feelings? And besides, she’s not really into you. She’s probably just using you to make Lucas jealous. You should use this opportunity while you have it.” Oh. So she’s just using me to get to Lucas. A wave of relief washed over me. I smoothly typed out a message and sent it to Seraphina. “Good morning, my love! Sorry, I was asleep! Didn’t mean to not reply. Just wanted to say I love you today too! Mwah, sweetest heart!” Seraphina replied instantly. “Tsk. So needy.” She followed it up with an image. I opened it. It was a spreadsheet. It listed the names of several tabloid accounts and individual trolls. I recognized a few of them, the ones who were always posting photoshopped, unflattering pictures of me. My heart skipped a beat. Had she…? Seraphina’s next message was dripping with regal authority. “These accounts have all been banned. Don’t worry. I’ll make everyone who ever bullied you pay the price. I’m going to let the whole world know that you are mine to protect!” … Well damn. That was actually a huge help. Before I could even type out my gushing thank you—”Thank you, my darling! I love you so much! You’ve made me so happy! Mwah mwah mwah!”—another novel-length message arrived. “So, are you looking for any acting roles right now? Any scripts you’re interested in? Are you free today? We could go take care of some paperwork. I’ll sign my house over to you first, then we can get our marriage license. Oh, have you thought about a wedding venue yet? And the dress color? You never answered my questions from last night, were you even paying attention to what I wrote? All you do is act cute. You can’t just get by on my love for you! Can’t you focus on the important things for once? You exasperating, irresistible little minx!” “…” I was getting a headache just reading it. Who taught her to type this much? Is she training for a marathon with her thumbs? 6 On the trending charts, two topics were pinned to the very top. #SeraTouchMyWoman #PiperIsMyWoman My friends and relatives spent the next hour absolutely roasting me in the group chat, while the person responsible for all of it was busy planning our wedding. I laughed. But behind the laughter, my brain was just a blank screen of static. I had no idea how things had gotten to this point, only that it felt very, very wrong. It took all my diplomatic skills to steer her away from the topics of marriage licenses and property deeds. Seraphina was a little pouty after being turned down. “Fine. No license. But we can at least make our relationship official online, right? You can post a few of my selfies to stake your claim.” She sent a picture. [selfie.jpg] “I’m so devastatingly beautiful, it’s only natural for you to desire me. Of course, you’re not bad looking yourself. A perfect match for me, really.” “Why aren’t you saying anything? Did the picture not send?” [selfie.jpg] “You see it this time, right?” “Don’t tell me you still haven’t gotten it. Why are you so quiet? Are you blushing? Heh. You silly little thing. If you like them, just say so. I’ll send you as many as you want. All of me belongs to you, let alone a few pictures.” I could feel goosebumps crawling up my arms. How does she type this stuff without throwing up in her mouth a little? She has to be doing this just to mess with me. My morning was already a mess, and her cringey messages were the last straw. I decided to fight fire with fire. “Sera, you’re so pretty! I love you so much! Licking the screen rn.” She immediately sent a barrage of fifty consecutive selfies, seeming incredibly excited by my response, even though her words said the opposite. “Whoops, my finger slipped. Sent too many. Just delete them on your end. And don’t you dare save them secretly. Also, you’re a real pervert, you know that? I knew you were trying to hold back your feelings for me. So this is what you’re really like. It’s so twisted. But I love it. I’ve always liked people who are direct. You little devil. I just want to pin you down and have my way with you right now.” … I wanted to have my way with her too, preferably by strangling her. But her public image was already a smoldering crater after this morning’s meltdown; exposing her cringey DMs wouldn’t even make a dent. Seriously, where was she getting these lines? I couldn’t take it anymore. I furiously typed out the most vicious, cutting words I could think of. “That contact name was just a prank to mess with you!” Then, slowly, I deleted it. Forget it. My life is more important. 7 During the show’s taping that afternoon, Seraphina was practically glowing. Thanks to yesterday’s drama, the host kept trying to drag us into the conversation. Seraphina, like a peacock showing off its feathers, preened for the cameras, her voice dripping with a smug satisfaction that a deaf person could have picked up on. “That’s right, I have a girlfriend. I’ve had an awakening… of my identity. I think I’m better suited to be the one who wears the pants in the relationship. A joke? What joke? I’m completely serious—” At that point, the host physically dragged her off-stage. When she returned, she was scowling and muttering a string of very colorful curses under her breath, making it clear she held the entire production in contempt. The host, at his wit’s end, quickly started the next game segment. I was standing off to the side, far from the main cameras, sipping a cup of tea. Another actress, about as famous as I was, sidled up to me. “How come Sera didn’t pull you into the spotlight with her? What’s the deal with you two? She’s not going to beat you up after what happened yesterday, is she?” I would have loved to talk trash about Seraphina, but given my new, very public “role,” I had to play nice. “No,” I explained. “She’s actually really sweet.” “So you two are really together?” the actress asked, her eyes gleaming with gossip. I chose my words carefully. “Not—” “Heh.” A familiar, smug laugh came from behind me. A second later, an arm snaked around my shoulders. It was Seraphina. “I know you’re shy, baby, but you can’t just lie like that. We’re obviously together,” she purred, then turned to the other actress. “Yes. We’re together.” She then turned back to me, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You still haven’t answered my question from this morning. When are we going to make it official? I just want to tie you to my side so you can never leave me. How’s that for a public declaration?” My jaw dropped. Where on earth was she finding these lines? “It’s… great,” I said, my voice betraying my utter disbelief. “I think so too,” Seraphina agreed. “I’ll have a master astrologer pick an auspicious date, and we’ll announce it in style.” As she spoke, I watched the other actress’s expression morph from hopeful excitement to baffled confusion, to the kind of look you give a raving lunatic, before she just sort of… drifted away in a daze. A shame. I think she’d wanted to ask for an autograph. Once the actress was gone, Seraphina slid into the seat beside me. Suddenly, we were very close, and her clean, cool scent washed over me. A casual glance revealed the impossibly smooth, pale skin of her neck. She rested her cheek on her hand, and when she noticed me looking, a self-satisfied smirk played on her lips. “Staring again? Can’t get enough of me? You’re just that obsessed, aren’t you?” On pure instinct, I cooed, “My darling sweetie-pie is the prettiest girl in the whole wide world. I can’t help but look!” She raised an eyebrow, a smile she couldn’t suppress blooming on her face. “So that’s why you ran off to a corner as soon as I left the stage. Can’t function without me, huh? Don’t love me too much. Heh. Hehehehehe. Hahahahahahaha! You clingy little thing. I swear I’m going to sew you into the pocket of my dress. You should have just told me you liked me sooner. Who knows how much longer you would have suffered in silence if I hadn’t found you out yesterday.” Once she started, she couldn’t stop. Inside, I was thinking: You are completely insane. Outwardly, I just nodded along. “Yes, I love you SO much.” She started giggling again, her bright eyes shining with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. I smiled back at her. I’ve always been a smiler, so it was easy. After a moment, she said, “You know, you’re so sweet, baby. You’re the first person who just… goes along with everything I want. And your smile is so beautiful.” I almost snorted. What a load of crap. She was rich and powerful. The world was probably full of people who bent over backward for her. But then I reconsidered. With a personality as certifiably insane as hers, maybe finding people who could stand her was actually a challenge. Maybe she knew she was a handful. I just kept smiling. She tilted her head slightly, a strand of long, dark hair falling beside her ear. Then she reached out, her pale, delicate fingertip gently brushing against my eyelashes. Ugh. Static. And just like that, my entire body went numb.

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I am the child of a mistress. When I was seventeen, my biological father passed away. At the funeral, dressed in my school uniform, I faced a room full of financial titans, brilliant young scientists, and a reigning movie star. My voice trembled as I spoke: “I… I’ve come to claim my inheritance…” Before I could finish, the legitimate children all stared at me, their gazes like daggers. I burst into tears. “N-no… it’s okay if you don’t give it to me…” The movie star’s eyes lit up. “A sister? A soft, little sister?” The young scientist pulled out a notepad and pen. “Senior year? Come solve some calculus, let’s see where you’re at.” The titan pulled out a black card. “What’s there to care about that old man’s meager money? Call me ‘brother,’ and I’ll give you ten times that.” 1 My mother was a master manipulator, a gilded cage bird kept by a wealthy man. The arrangement was simple: he’d provide the money, she’d provide the charm. A clean transaction, no strings attached. But too many good days often breed greed. She got pregnant, and, emboldened by her growing belly, pulled a ‘gilded cage bird runs off with the heir’ stunt. Before she disappeared, she broadcast her address widely, practically begging to be found. She fantasized about her patron locking down the entire city, pursuing her with possessive passion. She imagined his wife, consumed by insecurity, collapsing and willingly stepping aside. Alas. She overplayed her hand. Her patron didn’t even bother to look for her. He didn’t want her, or the child she carried. This simply wouldn’t do! She, with her full-term belly, blocked his mansion’s entrance. Two bodyguards lifted her out, tossing her into a dumpster. They also delivered a message from his wife: “If you’re so capable, take him. But give me the child to raise once it’s born. Money? Not a single penny!” After her desperate pleas failed, she finally gave up. But the child couldn’t be aborted. Filled with resentment, she gave birth to me and raised me haphazardly. Not out of love, but solely for money. The phrase she repeated most often to me was: “You’re his blood. He thinks he can just refuse to give us anything?” “Dream on! Even if he dies, you’ll get your share of that estate!” As she wished, in my seventeenth year, my biological father died. Upon hearing the news, she swiftly deposited me at the funeral home. “Skye, listen up! Including you, your father only has four children! You get a quarter of his inheritance!” “Today is your last chance. If you don’t get that money, don’t bother coming back to see me!” Her contorted features terrified me. “Mom, don’t leave me here, I’m scared…” “Scared, scared, always just scared! What did I raise you for? To make money!” “For all these years, you’ve eaten my food, used my things, and kept me from finding someone else. Don’t I deserve compensation?” “Get the inheritance, give it to me, and then I’ll still be your mom!” She hurried a few steps away, then stopped abruptly. Turning back, she rummaged through my pockets, taking my only ten dollars. I froze. Without money, I couldn’t take the bus. From this funeral home in the middle of nowhere, it would take me until dark to walk back home. She shoved me. “Cut off your retreat, and you’ll work harder!” “If you get the money, take a cab home. If not…” She gestured vaguely at the surrounding hills. “This whole area is a graveyard. Just stay here and keep the ghosts company!” 2 The cold mountain wind whipped around me, sending shivers down my spine. Every small mound in the deep woods seemed to be staring at me with unseen eyes. I steeled myself and walked into the funeral home. The service had ended, and the guests had all left. The room was empty save for the benefactor’s three legitimate children and their lawyer, discussing the final arrangements. “According to Mr. Stone’s last will, his estate, totaling two hundred million dollars, will be divided equally among the three of you.” Two hundred million dollars! So much money! No wonder my mother was so obsessed. For over a decade, she’d been scrambling to get her hands on some of it. And what I had to do today was claim a quarter of those two hundred million. Fifty million! My palms were sweating from nerves. With that much money at stake, who would willingly let the child of a mistress take a share? I figured a beating was inevitable. I just hoped they’d go easy on me. I had an exam tomorrow, and my hands still needed to write… As I thought this, the division of assets had already begun. The eldest, Seraphina Stone, sat at the head of the table. She was a renowned movie star, having just swept the nation’s top film awards. Her sleek black dress couldn’t hide her breathtaking beauty. With delicate, slender fingers, she took the document, glanced at it, and then casually tossed it to her younger brother. “That’s it? This is what’s worth wasting my time?” Her brother, Benedict Stone, was dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, silver-rimmed glasses adding a touch of maturity to his refined, boyish face. He stared at his laptop, typing incessantly, not even looking at the paper worth two hundred million. “Money isn’t something I need.” I’d heard of him. He was the nation’s most brilliant young scientist, unparalleled in cutting-edge fields. He truly had no need for money; all his needs were covered by state funding. The paper drifted lightly into the hands of the youngest, Jason Stone. His articulated fingers grasped it, then he casually tore it to shreds. “Two hundred million is enough to warrant a will? Donate it.” Jason carried an air of nonchalant ruthlessness. For someone consistently on the rich list, two hundred million wasn’t worth his time. Seraphina and Benedict raised their eyebrows but offered no objection. The lawyer was about to draft a new donation agreement. I weakly raised my hand. “Um… excuse me…” As soon as the words left my lips, the three legitimate children and the lawyer – four pairs of eyes – all focused on me. My scalp tingled. The lawyer spoke, “May I help you?” I swallowed, then cautiously began, “I’m sorry, I… I’ve come to claim my inheritance…” 3 By the time I fully registered what was happening, I was surrounded. The three legitimate children were tall, handsome, and exuded an exceptional aura. Compared to them, I, in my school uniform, felt like a corner-dwelling sprout. I was on the verge of tears. Even if they didn’t care about money, it didn’t mean they’d willingly hand it over to a mistress’s child! I stammered, “N-no… it’s okay if you don’t give it to me…” Could I just borrow two dollars… …to take the bus? I secretly peeked up, but their intimidating presence made me shiver. Never mind, never mind. Just thirty miles of mountain road. I could walk it… I quietly started to inch away. After just a few steps, Seraphina’s hand clamped onto the collar of my uniform, and she lifted me back. “Tsk, too light. All bones.” Seraphina turned me over, examining me from head to toe, her beautiful face full of disdain. “First, gain twenty pounds. You need to be plump for good health.” “Your hair is dry and split; it needs treatment. Your face is sunburned; it needs repair.” “Your school uniform is worn, your shoes don’t fit, your backpack zipper is broken.” “Replace, replace, all of it needs replacing!” She pulled out her phone and called her stylist. “Five feet three inches tall, eighty-pound frame. Prepare a complete wardrobe from head to toe.” “Who is it for?” Seraphina’s tone became light and cheerful. “For my sister, of course!” 4 I shifted uncomfortably. “You… you know who I am?” Seraphina wrapped an arm around my waist, her usually elegant face beaming with excitement. “Of course, the old man’s illegitimate daughter, right?” She pointed to her brilliant scientist brother and her wealthy businessman brother, complaining to me: “Benedict was always a prodigy. Three years old, memorizing vocabulary. Five years old, writing advanced math. Take him out to play, and in less than five minutes, he’s pulling out a textbook to do problems. So boring!” “Jason is shrewd and cunning, full of schemes from head to toe. As soon as he could talk, he was setting traps for me. As soon as he could go out, he was figuring out how to charter car fleets. Absolutely no cuteness whatsoever!” “Being the eldest sister, I had the title but no real power.” “Now I’ve finally caught myself a normal human sister! Never mind anything else, let me just have a taste of being a big sister!” As Seraphina spoke, she opened her personal makeup bag, ready to cleanse and moisturize my face. Benedict elbowed her aside. He pulled out a paper and pen, his silver glasses glinting with excitement. “Sister, you’re a senior? How’s school?” “Here, start with a calculus problem, let’s see what you know!” Looking at the long English characters on the paper, I felt my mind go blank. “I… I don’t know…” I was a high school senior, not a college junior. Who studies calculus in high school? Benedict scratched his head, confused. “That can’t be right. Even the slowest person should have learned it by seventeen, shouldn’t they?” Jason scoffed, pushing Benedict aside and leaning in close to me. “You said you came to claim your inheritance?” The question brought us back to the main topic, and I looked at Jason nervously. Right, right. Finally, time to talk money and get hit, wasn’t it? Jason pulled out a black card, his sharp features softening. “That old man’s money? It’s nothing. Be a good girl, call me ‘brother,’ and I’ll give you ten times that.” Their enthusiasm made me feel a bit flustered. This was different from what my mother had told me. Before I came, she repeatedly instructed me: “The richer they are, the stingier they are! If they don’t give you anything, throw a tantrum on the floor!” “Getting hit is even better. The harder you’re hit, the more money you can demand!” She said the Stones and I were sworn enemies. But the way these “enemies” looked at me… it felt a little warm? 5 I couldn’t shake the feeling they were playing a simulation game with me. Like now. I was brought back to the Stone family estate. Seraphina had canceled her upcoming appearances, spending every day fussing over me. On my first day home, she had a carload of beef, lamb, fish, and seafood prepared. Dish after exquisite dish was brought to the table. I was overwhelmed. To avoid wasting anything, I ate furiously, feeling ready to burst. Seraphina was shocked. She stopped me. “You’ll make yourself sick this way.” “We made so many dishes just to see what you like. You don’t have to eat what you dislike.” I felt a little lost. Did she mean I could be picky? But my mother always said being picky was wrong. When I was three, she brought home leftover stir-fried pork. I took a bite, cried from the spice, and pushed it away with tears streaming down my face. She got angry, pulled me up, and hit me. “So young and already picky? Want good food? You don’t have the right!” But it was truly too spicy; my mouth hurt with every bite. I cried and only ate rice, avoiding the dish entirely. But even that didn’t satisfy her. She said I was being dramatic, that this bad habit had to be broken. That same stir-fried pork, if I didn’t eat it for one meal, she’d save it for two. If I didn’t eat it for two days, she’d save it for three. I wouldn’t get new food until I finished it. I starved for three whole days, and in the end, I cried as I ate the spoiled stir-fried pork. That night, I came down with a high fever. After the fever broke, she stood beside me, lecturing. “Being picky is wrong. Mom is teaching you this for your own good. Did you remember?” I remembered. So, facing a table full of food, I ate with all my might. Hoping to finish before the food went bad. Preferences? Favorites? None. I had no right to choose. Seraphina couldn’t bear to watch anymore. She took my chopsticks and, in a softer voice, said, “Don’t be afraid, Skye. You’re still a child. You can just eat what you like.” A sudden wave of sorrow washed over me. It was like the three-year-old me, forced to eat chili, being held and gently comforted: “The chili hurt your mouth? It’s okay, we won’t eat that. Let’s eat something else!” I gathered my courage and whispered, “I… I don’t want to eat chili…” Seraphina waved her hand, and several housekeepers came forward, swiftly clearing all dishes with chili. Not only that. From that day on, I never saw chili on the dinner table again. So this is what it felt like to be favored. One simple “I don’t like it,” and that thing could disappear from my world. Under her careful nurturing, I rapidly grew plump and pale, like a balloon inflating. My hair visibly became dark and lustrous. She was very pleased, often showing off her results to her two younger brothers. 6 Benedict, not to be outdone, was astonished by how terrible my academic performance was after a comprehensive assessment. High school already! Couldn’t do Fourier transforms in math, didn’t understand quantum physics, didn’t know supramolecular chemistry. Tsk! How could someone be so dim-witted! He stopped going to his lab and took me to school to arrange an extended leave, planning to personally design a tutoring program for me. His car parked at the school gates, attracting a crowd of stares. Even the most understated Stone car was still the most eye-catching vehicle on the street. He opened the car door, carefully shielding the frame for me. Just as I got out, I ran into some of my classmates. “Well, well, isn’t it Skye, the mistress’s daughter? Haven’t seen you in a few days. Landed a sugar daddy?” “What’s so strange about that? The mistress’s daughter becoming a mistress herself, it’s only natural!” A group of them burst into laughter. My face burned. I opened my mouth to defend myself. “No, he’s my brother!” Selene Miller retorted rudely, “Oh, please! Everyone knows your mistress mom only had you! Seriously shameless, just claiming relatives everywhere!” “Big brother, you should stay far away from Skye, or her mom will cling to you and you’ll have hell to pay!” My classmates all nodded. Actually, they weren’t like this at first. Even though they knew I was illegitimate, they didn’t discriminate against me. When Selene saw my tattered clothes, she even begged her mother to let me wear some of hers. We became good friends. But it didn’t last. One weekend, I came home happily wearing a red dress Selene had given me. My mother grabbed the dress like a madwoman, demanding, “Who bought you this?” I stammered an explanation, saying a classmate gave it to me. She cursed furiously, “Are you so poor you’ll take any old junk?!” “Don’t you have any taste? You’re a Stone heiress! Not some beggar on the street!” She took a pair of scissors and cut the red dress into pieces. My heart ached. I was worse off than a beggar on the street! At least beggars didn’t have a mother as crazy as mine! She dragged me to school and caused a huge scene, insisting Selene had bullied me and insulted me with old clothes. I tried to explain, but she wouldn’t listen. She threw a tantrum in front of the school principal, demanding that Selene’s parents pay for my emotional damages. Helpless, the principal made Selene apologize to me in person. The way Selene looked at me changed. From that day on, all my classmates knew not only that I was illegitimate, but also that I had a mercenary mistress mom. They nicknamed me “the mistress’s daughter,” and no one wanted to talk to me anymore. Benedict patted my shoulder, stepping in front of me. “Selene Miller? I’ve heard of you. You once helped my little sister, Skye. Thank you!” Selene was stunned, blushing and stammering, “I-I-I said those things about Skye, how-how can you still thank me?” Benedict smiled, making him even more approachable. Just then, the homeroom teacher arrived, having heard the commotion. He eagerly invited Benedict into the classroom, proudly introducing him: “Benedict Stone, Silverwood’s top student in the middle school entrance exam, national champion in physics and chemistry competitions, a prodigy from Capital University’s gifted program!”

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I finally understood why Justin Rauch had brought Linda, his research assistant with a heart condition, to live with us. When Cole Stone, soaked to the bone, with one eye shadowed, stood at our doorstep, I truly felt the powerful pull of a “first love.” I didn’t hesitate to let him stay in the mansion, my heart filled with pity. Years apart, he had become sickly and melancholic. The slightest touch would send shivers through him. I poured all my energy into him, gently coaxing and caring for him. I even lost the strength to argue with Linda or yell hysterically at Justin. Justin, however, completely broke down. His eyes red, he demanded, “Luna, I’m your husband. Why are you always siding with him?” 1 The next time I saw Cole Stone, it was raining heavily outside. I leaned under the eaves of the villa, gazing at the dark sky, my heart filled with despair. Linda had mentioned she’d never seen the ocean, and Justin had forgotten our wedding anniversary, dropped all his work, and flown her to the Maldives. This wasn’t the first time. Ever since Linda returned from abroad, everything about her took precedence over me. At dinner, it had to be her favorite dishes. When going out, it had to be places she wanted to visit. I kept telling myself that Linda had a heart condition, that she was pitiful, and I should be accommodating. Until Justin’s birthday. I put on his favorite seductive red dress and straddled his lap. Justin’s breath hitched instantly, and he fiercely pushed me down. Just then, a unique phone ringtone chimed. I knew it was the exclusive ringtone Justin had set for Linda. I desperately wanted him to ignore it, to be lost in passion for me. But it wasn’t to be. The ringtone only rang for three seconds before the desire in his eyes completely vanished. He answered the call, spoke a few words, then grabbed his jacket and rushed out the door. He left me, disheveled, lying alone on the sofa. Even then, I was still reassuring myself: What if something really had happened to Linda? After all, her health truly wasn’t good. I talked myself into feeling better for a long time. But the moment I opened my phone, I saw Linda’s latest social media post. The photo showed a rather unappetizing cake, with crooked English letters and a very poorly drawn design. My gaze was instantly drawn to a finger accidentally visible in the corner of the photo. On that finger, was my identical wedding ring. It was Justin. I instinctively tried to find an excuse for them, but Linda’s caption left my mind blank. She wrote: [My knight hasn’t broken his vows and will always protect his princess, but this time the princess isn’t hurt. Instead, she’s prepared a little surprise for her knight—a cake made by the princess herself! Happy Birthday, my most loyal knight~] So, nothing had happened to her. My heart felt like it had been brutally torn open, the pain making my eyes red, curling into a ball, trembling uncontrollably. By noon the next day, Justin returned from Linda’s, and we had a massive argument. The outcome of this argument was not good; Justin moved Linda into our house. Of course, I disagreed, hysterically telling her to get out of our home. Linda immediately had a heart attack and was rushed to the hospital. After that, my life seemed to fall into a cycle. It began with an argument with Justin and ended with Linda in the hospital. Over and over again. Now, all that was left was exhaustion. Even with all the lights on in the house, I felt no warmth, only loneliness. Just then, I looked up, as if sensing something, and met a pair of familiar yet unfamiliar eyes. 2 It was Cole Stone. He stood under a distant streetlamp, looking much changed. He was thinner, devoid of his former carefree swagger. His slightly long hair obscured one eye. He wasn’t holding an umbrella. The rain had soaked his white shirt, making him look disheveled and pathetic. Suddenly, his body trembled. As if realizing I was watching him, he immediately turned to leave. But something seemed wrong with his body. After just two steps, he lost his balance and fell to the ground. I instantly forgot my self-pity, rushed into the rain, and helped him up. “Cole, are you okay?” Under the faint glow of the streetlamp, I finally saw Cole’s face clearly. “What happened to your eye?” I asked, surprised. One of Cole’s eyes had completely turned gray, hazy and devoid of any light. He turned his head away, like a timid puppy, hiding his entire face in the shadows, his voice trembling as he said, “This eye… can’t see…” My heart ached for him. He was the moonlight I had once chased in my youth, and I never imagined he would become like this. I helped him inside, grabbed a clean bath towel, and handed it to him. “Hurry, take a hot shower. Don’t catch a cold!” Cole nodded silently, lowering his eyes as he unbuttoned his shirt. I quickly turned my back. “You go ahead and wash. I’ll get you some clean clothes.” I rushed to the walk-in closet, grabbed a pair of Justin’s pajamas, but found Cole still standing by the bathroom door, his fingers clumsily wrestling with the buttons. Seeing my confused gaze, Cole lowered his head in embarrassment. “I… after losing my eye, my limbs feel a bit out of control. The doctor said it’s sensory integration disorder…” As he spoke, he shivered, and his lips lost color, turning pale. I immediately lost all reason, dropping the clothes and rushing over. “It’s okay, I’ll help you!” Cole was very compliant, standing still as I unbuttoned his shirt, one by one. My fingers accidentally brushed his cold skin. He shivered lightly, then his ear tips turned bright red. He suddenly grabbed my hand, whispering, “I… I can do it myself…” I also became self-conscious belatedly. Just as I was about to let go, I heard an angry shout from outside the door. “Luna, what are you doing?!” I turned around to see Justin standing in the doorway, his shoulder half-soaked. I couldn’t help but frown. “Why are you back?” “Why am I back? So I can wait for you to cheat on me?!” Justin’s face was furious, but I only found him utterly unreasonable. “Justin, watch your mouth. Cole is an old friend of mine. There’s nothing going on between us!” “Nothing going on? I saw you taking off his clothes with my own eyes. How is that ‘nothing going on’?” “Are you done or not? I told you…” Just as I was about to argue with Justin, Cole grabbed my hand. “Luna, it’s all my fault. Don’t argue with your husband over me.” Then he bowed to Justin. “Brother, please don’t misunderstand Luna. My health isn’t good. She was just helping me. I just wanted to see Luna today. I’ve seen her, so I’ll leave now and won’t bother you.” His voice was trembling as he spoke. I immediately felt compassion and grabbed his hand. “Cole, ignore him. You’re staying here for a few days. I’ll take good care of you.” “Luna, are you insane?! Who invites someone of the opposite sex to live in their home and take care of them?!” No sooner had Justin’s words fallen than a weak voice sounded from behind him. “Justin, are you arguing with my sister again because of me?” 3 Justin’s expression froze. He was speechless for a long moment. When he didn’t respond, Linda stepped forward. Seeing Cole, she also faltered. But the next second, her eyes turned red, and she pleaded with me, almost tearfully, “It’s all my fault, Sister Luna. I shouldn’t have said I’d never seen the ocean. That way, Justin wouldn’t have left you to take me to the Maldives.” “Luckily, it rained heavily today, and the plane couldn’t take off. Justin can spend tonight with you. I’ll leave now.” Justin’s face immediately filled with distress. “Linda, you don’t need to leave. This is your home. You can stay as long as you like!” Normally, I would have argued with Justin, demanding to know how he could make decisions about a house that was half mine. But now, I immediately nodded in agreement. “That’s right, Cole, the same goes for you. This is your home. Stay as long as you want, don’t mind what anyone else says.” Justin looked at me in disbelief. “Luna, are you calling me ‘anyone else’? Have you forgotten? I’m your husband!” Hearing that, before I could react, Linda clutched her chest and softly whimpered, “Justin, I’m hurting.” Justin instantly forgot everything else, scooping Linda into his arms and carrying her back to the room. I also breathed a sigh of relief, quickly nudging Cole towards the shower. Then I found Justin’s most expensive silk bedsheets and spread them out in the guest room. After getting everything ready, I went back to wait by the bathroom door. Cole had sensory integration disorder; I was worried he might have difficulty. While waiting, I ran into Justin coming downstairs to get medicine for Linda. He looked at me and sneered, “Luna, you don’t need to debase yourself for another man just to spite me.” I was about to curse him out, but then I heard the bathroom door open. Justin’s eyes instantly widened. He raised his voice in disbelief. “Luna, you actually put my pajamas on this… this stranger!” Cole, fresh out of the shower, became instantly flustered. He pressed his lips together and said, “Luna, I didn’t know these were Brother Justin’s clothes. I’ll go change right now.” I quickly pulled him back. “Change what? Your clothes are soaked. Just wear these.” Then I turned to scold Justin. “Can’t you be less petty? Are you really so stingy about a single pair of pajamas?” Justin’s chest heaved with anger. “Is this about the clothes?! Luna, do you even remember who the man of this house is?!” Just then, Linda suddenly emerged from the room. “Justin, what’s happening? Why did it take you so long to get the medicine?” She was wearing Justin’s and my matching couple’s pajamas, a bracelet Justin had given me for my birthday was on her wrist, and a Miu Miu hair clip I’d bought last week was in her hair. Justin was uncharacteristically silent. He placed the medicine in Linda’s hand, then, as she began to try and keep him there, he said, “You rest. I have something else to do.” He then grabbed my arm and dragged me into our bedroom. He clearly had something to say, but I didn’t want to hear it. I kicked him away and walked out. Only after making sure Cole was completely settled did I return to my room. Justin had been waiting for me for a long time. He sat by the window, surrounded by smoke, the ashtray in front of him overflowing with cigarette butts. I frowned, walked over, and pushed open the window. “All you do is smoke, smoke, smoke! Can’t you learn from Cole? He never smokes!” Justin nearly choked, coughing for half a minute before recovering, then gritted his teeth and said, “Luna, do you have nothing else to talk about besides Cole?” “No, just like you have nothing to talk about with me besides Linda.” Hearing me mention Linda’s name, Justin’s expression grew impatient again. He was about to accuse me of being petty, but then he turned and saw the wedding anniversary cake on the table. It sat there, lonely and untouched. It was then that he suddenly remembered: today was our fifth wedding anniversary. Justin’s tone softened abruptly. “Luna, I’m sorry. I forgot today was our wedding anniversary. I’ll make it up to you.” “I’ve already scheduled heart surgery for Linda. After her recovery, I’ll send her away, okay?” When Justin was gentle, his deep, pool-like eyes could almost drown a person. I almost agreed to his terms. Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door, and Cole’s voice came through.

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