Category: English

Carrying this new life inside me made me feel like my mind was an unfinished puzzle, with a jagged piece missing right in the center. Every time I pressed my husband for answers, he’d just laugh and ruffle my hair with that practiced, effortless affection. “Sweetheart, you haven’t lost any memories. You’re just being sensitive. It’s the hormones.” I’d shake my head and try to believe him. Maybe I was just overthinking it. Maybe the fog in my brain was just a side effect of the pregnancy. But when the cold bite of a gun barrel pressed against my spine, I realized the nightmare had never actually ended. It had just been sleeping. The kidnapper’s boot ground into my stomach, and I gasped as filthy, brackish water forced its way down my throat. “The great Mr. Wolfe is too busy saving his precious little assistant to care about you,” the man spat, his voice a jagged rasp. “What does a trophy wife matter when he’s got her?” Through a haze of agony, I looked down. A terrifying, vivid crimson was beginning to bloom across the fabric of my white maternity dress. And then, in the moment my consciousness began to shatter, the floodgates broke. The locked doors in my mind swung wide, and the memories exploded behind my eyes like a detonated bomb. Five years ago. Another kidnapping. Another choice. He had chosen his assistant back then, too. And the child I had been carrying then—a life that should have been five years old by now—had slipped away into the dark while I lay unconscious and broken. The realization hit me harder than the physical pain: This time, he still didn’t intend for me, or our baby, to survive. … The kidnapper yanked me up by my hair, dragging my face out of the muck and forcing me to look at a screen. “Take a look. It’s a hell of a show.” On the phone screen, the video was crystal clear. My husband, Franklin Wolfe, was pulling his secretary, Bridget, into a crushing embrace. His voice was a frantic, tender whisper I knew all too well. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m taking you home.” He swept her up in his arms, her clothes clean and pristine, a sharp, cruel contrast to the broken woman bleeding out in a warehouse. “That’s what a real wife looks like,” the kidnapper mocked. “You? You’re just the placeholder.” The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. The world tilted, and I spiraled into the black. The memories kept surging, relentless and cruel. Three years ago, Franklin’s business rivals had snatched me to settle a score. By some freak coincidence, Bridget had been with me. The kidnappers wanted one hostage for leverage and one for a quick ransom. It was obvious they intended to trade me for the money. Everyone had been screaming at Franklin to pay the debt. “You can make more money, Franklin! But you only have one wife!” his friends had urged. Franklin had hesitated. It wasn’t the money that gave him pause. It was the choice. My in-laws had been frantic. “Elena is pregnant, Franklin! Nothing matters more than her and that baby. Do the right thing!” Finally, Franklin looked like he’d made a decision. He grabbed the satchel of cash and headed for the door. “I have a plan,” he had said, his voice cold and calculated. “Elena is my wife. They want her for the money, so they won’t hurt her. The priority is getting Bridget out of there first. She’s vulnerable.” The room had gone silent. Even the lead detective looked at him with sheer disbelief. “Sir, we can’t guarantee the kidnappers won’t hurt the remaining hostage once they have the cash,” the detective warned. “We strongly advise you to secure the pregnant woman first. She’s the one in the most danger.” But Franklin wouldn’t budge. He doubled down on Bridget. That day, I waited for a rescue that never came. When the kidnappers got their money, they laughed. With the ransom secured, I was no longer an asset—just a witness. They dragged me through the dirt, treating me like a piece of discarded trash. “We’ll drop you off once we hit the state line,” one of them sneered. “Since your man didn’t want you, we might as well show some mercy.” When I finally woke up, the police had found me in a ditch on the outskirts of town. I was covered in blood, and the baby was gone. That trauma became a canyon in my soul. I nearly lost my mind. I hated Franklin with a feral, consuming intensity. I fought for a divorce for months. Franklin had dropped to his knees, begging for a second chance. “I made a mistake, Elena! Please, hit me, scream at me, but don’t leave me!” Broken physically and mentally, I couldn’t bear the weight of the grief. It was a five-month-old fetus. He had let our child die. Eventually, he took me to a private clinic. He forced me—under the guise of “healing”—to undergo an experimental neurological procedure to suppress the trauma. He wanted me to forget. He wanted his “perfect” wife back. And so, we returned to our “happy” life. Bridget disappeared from my world, and we became the picture-perfect couple again. Until now. A sharp, stabbing pain flared in my chest. I had already given him a second chance. And he had wasted it on the same girl. Franklin. You truly make me sick. The kidnapper tucked his phone away and swung a heavy club into my side. He tossed me away like a rag doll, his nightmare laughter fading as he retreated into the shadows. I drifted back into consciousness, clutching my stomach, and began to crawl. I crawled until I saw the faint glow of streetlights, until my knees finally gave out in front of a gas station. My dress was soaked through with red. A passerby screamed and dialed 911. By the time I reached the ER, the surgeons were already prepping the room. “The fetus is non-viable,” I heard a voice say through the fog. “We need to perform the D&C immediately or she’ll go septic.” The darkness took me again. When I woke up, there was a new scar on my abdomen, and the life that had been a part of me was gone. The tears leaked out, hot and silent. I felt so fragile, so hollowed out. I had wanted so badly to save this one. I bit my lip until it bled, forcing myself to stay grounded in the cold reality of the hospital room. I sat there, alone, while the hospital handled the remains. I received a small, hauntingly light urn. There was no sign of Franklin. The police and nurses had surely been trying to reach him for days. Maybe he just thought he could show up late. After all, I was never the priority. As I checked out, I overheard a group of nurses whispering at the station. “Can you believe the guy in 402? His girlfriend just has a few scratches, and he hasn’t left her side for a second. Talk about devoted.” Another nurse sighed. “Different fates for different folks. The girl in 305 is the one I feel for. Kidnapped, nearly killed, lost the baby… and we haven’t been able to get a hold of her husband in three days.” “Heartless,” the first one whispered. Every word felt like a scalpel across my skin. I looked down the hall and saw a familiar silhouette through the glass of a private suite. It was Franklin. My mind flashed back to when we were twenty. He used to be the same way with me. If I so much as nicked my finger in the kitchen, he’d look like he was about to cry. I had fought my parents, burned every bridge, and moved across the country just to marry him. Because of that move, I hadn’t even been there to say goodbye to them before they passed. Back then, Franklin had sworn to me, “I will never fail you, Elena.” But in the end, everyone who ever loved me had left. And the man I thought was my anchor had simply changed his mind. I forced my breathing to steady and walked toward my room. As I passed Bridget’s suite, I couldn’t help but stop. I watched through the cracked door as Franklin—the powerful CEO, the man who commanded boardrooms—clumsily peeled an apple for her. I must have stared too long. Franklin looked up. Our eyes locked, and the color drained from his face instantly. It seemed he had finally remembered he had a wife. A wife he hadn’t spoken to in days. He stood up, stammering, his voice thin. “Elena… Bridget was targeted because of me. The kidnappers wanted her to get to me. I couldn’t just let her die.” I looked at him, my voice a hollow rasp. “I was kidnapped too, Franklin. Did you know that?” His eyes darted away. He didn’t answer. I had my answer. Why keep humiliating myself? He hadn’t answered the phone because he didn’t want to know. He hadn’t checked the hospitals because he was hiding. He didn’t want to face another “choice,” so he decided there was only one person worth choosing. Even if he suspected I was suffering, he chose ignorance. Last time, he said the target was safe because they were “valuable.” This time, he said the target was in more danger. I started to laugh, and the laughter turned into tears. It was pathetic. He always had a reason. A logic to justify his betrayal. My heart felt like it had been shredded. He didn’t love me anymore. He’d moved on, yet he’d had my brain rewired just to keep me in his house. To make me endure the same agony twice. “Franklin,” I whispered. “I hope you burn.” Maybe he felt a flicker of guilt. He tried to take charge of the “arrangements” for the baby. He threw money at it. The best casket, a lavish memorial service, playing the part of the grieving father for the cameras. He looked at my pale, ghost-like face and tried to offer comfort. “We’re young, Elena. We can try again. We’ll have another one.” I looked at him and felt a cold, dead sense of amusement. There won’t be another one. There is no “after” for us. You don’t deserve it. But I didn’t say it out loud. During the final moments of the service, Franklin’s phone buzzed. He hesitated for exactly one second before answering. Bridget’s sobbing voice echoed through the line. “I was in a car accident… Franklin, I’m so scared…” Franklin’s face twisted with panic. He dropped the white carnation he was holding—the flower meant for our child—and turned to leave. I stepped in front of him, my gaze freezing him in place. If he hadn’t come, that would have been one thing. But to leave now, in the middle of saying goodbye? It was the ultimate sacrilege. “Don’t you dare,” I said. He looked frantic. “Elena, don’t do this. Don’t be difficult. I’ll explain everything later, but Bridget’s been in a wreck. If something happens to her because I wasn’t there…” I clenched my fists so hard my nails drew blood. “I was kidnapped and you weren’t there, and I’m still standing. She’s on the phone, Franklin. That means she can call an ambulance. Are you a doctor? A cop? What exactly can you do for her other than hold her hand and pay the bill?” The logic hit him like a physical blow, but he didn’t like being cornered. He looked at me with a flash of resentment, as if I were the one being unreasonable. He shoved past me, hard. “Elena, I have to go. When I get back, you can scream all you want. I’ll take it. But I’m going.” I hit the ground. My palms scraped against the gravel, and the unhealed incision on my abdomen felt like it was tearing open. Warm blood began to seep through my clothes again. Tears fell, despite my best efforts to stay numb. Why did I still expect anything else from him? I finished the service alone. I buried my child alone. Then, I drove myself back to the hospital to have my stitches redone. The nurse looked at the angry red wound and sighed. “You really can’t keep doing this, honey. You’re going to have permanent scarring. How did this happen?” I apologized quietly and thanked her. While I waited for the paperwork, I opened my phone. Bridget had posted an update. I recognized the tone immediately—the same performative fragility she’d used five years ago. She didn’t show her face. Just a photo of her hand in his. The caption read: So thankful you’re here. Just a few scratches from the crash, but my hero wouldn’t leave my side. In the background, I could see Franklin prepping bandages and ointment. To any stranger, they looked like the world’s most devoted couple. What a wonderful boss, taking such good care of his staff. I felt a wave of nausea, then a sharp, clarifying coldness. I hit ‘Save’ on the photo. The hospital corridor was silent. As the anesthesia wore off, the memories Franklin had tried to erase became even more vivid. Five years ago, when I demanded a divorce, he had wept at my feet. “She’s just an employee, Elena! A sister, at most. You know about my sister who died when we were kids. She’s the only thing I have left of that memory.” To prove his “devotion,” he had “fired” her. “I’m doing this for us,” he’d said, eyes red and swollen. “I won’t let anyone come between us again.” I hadn’t believed him. But he had knelt there until his knees were bruised, begging for just a few days to prove himself. But I couldn’t get over the fact that he had left me to die. I had been exhausted, drained of everything. I had insisted on the divorce. That was when he had taken me to that clinic. He had erased the “inconvenience” of my grief. And for a few years, it worked. He hadn’t fired her, of course. He’d just moved her to a subsidiary, kept her in his orbit, nursing his obsession with his “surrogate sister.” I pulled myself back to the present. I called my lawyer. I sent over every screenshot, every hospital record, every piece of evidence of his negligence. “Draft the papers,” I said. “I want everything.” This marriage should have ended a long time ago. I went home. To my surprise, Bridget and Franklin were already there. The sight of her in my living room was a physical insult. Franklin saw my expression and rushed to explain. “Elena, Bridget felt terrible. She didn’t realize today was the memorial. She felt so guilty for pulling me away that she insisted on coming here to apologize in person.” I looked at him, marveling at his stupidity. The memorial had been on the calendar for weeks. She knew. “I’m tired, Franklin,” I said, my voice flat. “Get her out of my house.” Franklin, sensing the danger, tried to usher her toward the door. But Bridget wasn’t done. She asked for a moment alone with me. She leaned in close, her voice a poisonous whisper that only I could hear. “The first kidnapping was a fluke. But this one? This one was mine. I paid them to make sure you lost that baby. I couldn’t have you securing your spot with a kid, could I?” My heart stopped. The world went silent, save for the echo of her words. I can handle pain. I can handle betrayal. But my child… I didn’t love Franklin anymore, but I loved that baby. The doctor had told me my uterus had been scarred from the first loss. This had been my last chance to be a mother. Bridget looked at me, her eyes dancing with a sick, triumphant light. Slap! Before she could blink, I put every ounce of my grief and rage into my hand. Then I hit her again. And again. She screamed, shocked that the “docile” Elena was actually fighting back. I didn’t stop. I wanted to feel her skin break. I wanted her to feel a fraction of the ruin she had caused. She deserved to die for what she did. Franklin finally snapped out of his shock and tackled me, pulling me away from her. The guilt he’d felt earlier was gone, replaced by righteous indignation. “Are you insane? I know I messed up, Elena, and I’ll make it up to you! But why are you taking it out on her?” The physical pain of him pinning my arms was nothing compared to the hole in my chest. “She did it,” I choked out. “She hired them. She killed our baby, Franklin. She just told me.” I didn’t expect him to believe me fully. But after ten years, I thought there might be a seed of doubt. I was wrong. Franklin’s face twisted into a sneer of pity. “You’ve lost your mind. You’re literally hallucinating.” His trust in her was absolute. I went still. A cold, dark laugh bubbled up in my throat. “Right. That was your excuse last time, wasn’t it? That I was ‘unstable.’ That’s why you had my brain scrubbed. Five years later, Franklin, and you’re still the same pathetic coward.” Franklin turned white. Panic flared in his eyes. Even so, he instinctively pulled Bridget behind him, shielding her. He was a lost cause. Bridget smirked over his shoulder, her eyes gleaming. But her victory was going to be short-lived. I am a paranoid woman. Living with Franklin had taught me never to feel safe. I had been carrying a voice recorder in my pocket since the day I got out of the hospital. I reached in and pressed ‘Play.’ Her confession filled the room. It wasn’t just about the divorce anymore. This was a criminal matter. She wasn’t just losing her “hero”—she was going to prison. I wiped my eyes, my hand steady. I picked up the house phone and dialed 911. “Yes, I’d like to report a conspiracy to commit kidnapping and fetal homicide. I have a recorded confession.”

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I woke up early, driving across town to that artisanal bakery she loves just to get those specific Gruyère croissants. It was a peace offering, a pathetic attempt to smooth things over because I’d accidentally snagged her expensive silk stockings the night before. But as I set the bag on the counter, Callie didn’t even look up. She was packing a suitcase with practiced efficiency. “Hunter’s birthday is this weekend,” she said, her voice flat, clinical. “We’re going to Thailand. It’s a bit unstable there right now, so I told him I have to go along. You know, to keep him safe.” I opened my mouth to protest—to ask why my wife was spending a weekend in the tropics with her ‘college mentor’—when the world suddenly glitched. Shimmering, translucent lines of text began to crawl across my vision like a digital fever dream. [Shut up, Bennett! Just let the traitor go!] [Don’t be a fool. That ‘H’ tattooed over her heart? It’s for Hunter, not you. It was never you.] [Think about this day in your last life. You knelt. You begged. You stayed on the floor crying while she walked out. Later, at the Disaster Mitigation Center, you predicted the massive avalanche that hit her hometown at 11:00 PM. You sprinted to the airport, tore up her ticket like a madman, and forced her back to save her parents. She saved them, but she hated you for it.] [And Hunter? He went missing on a cruise ship later that year. When they found the body, he was a hollowed-out shell. Organs gone.] [On the seventh day of Hunter’s mourning, she lied. She told you she was pregnant to get you onto a ship. Then, she sold you to a human trafficking ring for a hundred bucks. You died in a concrete cell, treated like livestock, harvested for ‘premium genetics’ until your heart finally gave out…] I stared at her. My chest felt tight, the phantom pain of a life I hadn’t lived—or perhaps a life I had—pulsing in my muscles. I remembered that tattoo. She’d told me it was a symbol of her ‘heart,’ placed right over her ribs. I had spent years worshipping at that altar. … I froze. 1 The subtitles continued to scroll, a frantic digital rain. My body felt heavy, weighed down by the muscle memory of an agonizing death. It felt too real to be a hallucination. Callie’s face twisted with impatience. “Bennett? Did you hear me? I’m going. I won’t let Hunter be in danger alone.” I looked at her perfectly painted red lips. I didn’t want to believe it. Could she really blame me for Hunter’s fate? Could she really sell me into a living hell out of spite? We both worked at the National Disaster Mitigation Center. It was supposed to be a romance born of shared purpose. On our wedding day, she’d confessed she still had feelings for her “mentor,” Hunter. She told me she couldn’t give me a hundred percent of her heart and asked for my “understanding.” All our friends and family were already in the pews. I didn’t want the scandal. I swallowed the bile and married her anyway. After the honeymoon, she got that tattoo. I thought it was a sign she’d finally chosen me. I doubled my efforts. I became the perfect, doting husband. Then Hunter came back into the picture. She eventually moved him into our guest room, then kicked me out of our own master suite so he could stay there. I loved her so much I forced myself to believe the lie of “platonic friendship.” But the memories from that ‘other life’ were screaming at me now. It was time to let go. It was time to let her walk into the destiny she so desperately wanted. “Are you deaf? Answer me!” Callie snapped. I looked at her—really looked at her—and then turned to my laptop. I pulled up the seismic thermal maps I’d been studying. I printed a thick stack of data and shoved them into her hand. “There’s going to be a Category 5 avalanche at Oak Ridge tonight at 11:00 PM,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Your parents’ house is right in the path of the debris flow.” Callie glanced at the charts for a second before ripping them down the middle. She threw the confetti in my face and laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. “Bennett, you’ve lost your mind. Are you actually faking a natural disaster now?” “I’m not joking. There are eighty-mile-per-hour winds hitting the ridge today. That’s the trigger—” Slap. The force of her hand sent my head snapping to the side. Her expression was distorted with pure hatred. “Shut up! Oak hasn’t seen a slide in a hundred years. We’ve had storms twice this big and the mountain held fine. You’re a pathetic liar, Bennett. I’m going on this trip. If you keep this up, don’t bother being here when I get back. We’re done.” She didn’t look back. She grabbed her designer luggage and slammed the door. 2 The silence she left behind was heavy. I didn’t waste time. I had submitted the official Oak prediction report to the agency thirty minutes ago. Now, I needed to get her parents. Whatever Callie was, they were still my in-laws. I couldn’t watch them die. I was barely out of the driveway when my phone buzzed. It was Chief Henderson. “Bennett? I see you uploaded a localized emergency report?” “Yes, Chief. The thermal instability on the ridge is off the charts. We need to trigger the sirens.” Henderson’s voice turned cold. “What is wrong with you, kid? You’ve been with us for five years. I thought you had a future here.” “Sir, the data—” “Forget the data! I just got off the phone with Callie. She told me everything. Using federal emergency protocols to manipulate your wife into staying home? That’s not just unprofessional, Bennett. It’s a felony.” Callie. Of course. She was Henderson’s star protégé. They were already closing ranks. “Chief, listen to me. At 11:00 PM tonight, that mountain is coming down. You have to—” “I’ve already retracted your report. Don’t come in tomorrow. Take a few days to think about your ‘attitude.’ Honestly, if I hadn’t been the one to introduce you two, I’d fire you on the spot.” I tried the Deputy Director. He didn’t even let me finish. “Bennett? Henderson already filled me in. I thought you were a stable guy. Clearly, I was wrong. You’re done at the Center. Send your badge in by courier.” The line went dead. I sat in my car, the reality of my ruined career sinking in. But there was no time to mourn. It was 6:00 PM. Five hours until the snow buried Oak. I called Callie’s father, George. “An avalanche? Bennett, son, you’ve been working too hard. This ridge is solid rock. Where’s Callie? Put her on.” “She’s heading to the airport, George. Please, I’m serious. The town needs to evacuate. Call the Sheriff. Tell everyone to get out!” George chuckled. “Sure, sure. Safety first. I’ll look into it.” Two hours later, I pulled into Oak. The town was peaceful. People were walking their dogs; the streetlights were flickering on. There was zero sense of urgency. I drove straight to the Mayor’s house. To my surprise, George was there, sitting on the porch with Mayor Whittaker, a glass of bourbon in his hand. “George! What are you doing? Why isn’t the siren going off?” I shouted as I ran up the steps. Whittaker looked at me with pity. “So this is the son-in-law? A bit high-strung, isn’t he?” George stood up and kicked my shin, hard. “Bennett! You’re a grown man. How dare you spread these lies? If I hadn’t called Callie, I might have actually believed you and made a fool of myself in front of the whole town!” 3 They didn’t believe me. None of them. My phone rang. Callie. I answered it on speaker, desperate. “Callie! Tell your father. Tell him about the ridge. Please, just help me save them!” Her voice came through the speakers, cold as the coming snow. “Bennett, get help. Seriously. You’re making a scene because I’m on a trip with Hunter? It’s pathetic.” Hunter’s voice drifted in from the background, smug and mocking. “Give it up, man. You’re just making her hate you more.” “Stop this,” Callie warned. “Go home, or I’m filing for divorce the second I land. You’ll leave with nothing.” Click. George glared at me. “Divorce? What the hell is going on with you two?” “George, please. I’m a senior engineer. I’ve tracked the wind shear. The mountain is going to slide at 11:00 PM. It’s a Category 5. The town will be buried. You have to believe me!” Whittaker hesitated, looking at the sheer desperation in my eyes. But George let out a harsh snort. “He’s not an engineer anymore, Whittaker! My daughter just told me the Center fired him today for filing false reports. He’s a fraud, Bill. Don’t listen to a word he says.” Whittaker’s face hardened. He pointed toward the street. “Son, get off my property. Now.” I knew if I left, they were dead. I did the only thing I could. I dropped to my knees on the porch. “If the mountain doesn’t move at 11:00 PM, call the police. I’ll go to prison for filing a false report. I’ll sign over every asset I own to this town. Just move the people. Please. There isn’t much time!” “You just won’t stop embarrassing us, will you?” George roared. He swung his foot and caught me right in the ribs. I collapsed, gasping for air, the pain radiating through my chest. I stared up at the Mayor. “Thousands of lives, Whittaker. Can you live with that?” Whittaker looked at the mountain, then back at me. Finally, he sighed. “Fine. I’ll call for a ‘precautionary drill.’ One time.” George was stunned. “Bill, you’re actually listening to this maniac? He’s just doing this to spite my daughter—” “If he’s wrong, he goes to jail,” Whittaker snapped, walking inside to grab his radio. I followed him out, clutching my side. “The debris field will span two miles. To be safe, everyone needs to be at least three miles past the valley floor.” The evacuation started. It was messy and slow, but people began to move. I went back to George’s house. “George, Martha, my car is right here. Get in. Please.” He slapped me across the face. “I’m not going anywhere! I’m calling my daughter and telling her to leave you the moment she gets back. You’ve humiliated me for the last time!” For the next two hours, I watched the town empty out. But Callie’s parents remained locked inside their house. No matter how much I pounded on the door, they wouldn’t budge. I called Callie again. Ten times. Twenty times. Finally, a man answered. Hunter. “Where’s Callie?” I barked. “The mountain is about to go. Get her on the phone so she can tell her parents to leave!” I heard Hunter’s soft, mocking laugh. “She’s in the shower, Bennett. She told me she’s done talking to you.” “Hunter, listen to me! This isn’t about us. Her parents are going to die in twenty minutes! Tell her to pick up!” “You’re sick, man,” Hunter said. “Still using the avalanche bit? You have no idea what Callie is going to do for me tonight. She’s so soft, so eager… you couldn’t even imagine—” I hung up. I didn’t care about his bragging. I looked at my watch. Twelve minutes left. If I didn’t leave now, I’d be buried too. I pulled out my phone and started a voice recording. I stood by the door and yelled one last time. “George! Martha! The slide is coming in ten minutes! It’s a Category 5! If you don’t leave now, you will die!” An ash-tray shattered through the window screen, striking me square in the forehead. I stumbled back, my vision swimming, blood dripping into my eye. “You animal!” Martha’s voice shrieked from inside. “You’re cursing us? My daughter was right—you’re a liar and a leach! You just want us dead so you can inherit the house! Get lost!” I didn’t stay to hear the rest. I turned off the recording, wiped the blood from my eyes, and crawled into my car. I drove like a madman, my head spinning, fighting the urge to black out. At exactly 11:00 PM, a roar like a thousand freight trains erupted from the dark. In my rearview mirror, the night sky was blotted out by a wall of white. Oak was gone.

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While I was with my best friend, Avril, trying on wedding dresses, she suddenly said, “You know, your husband Blake is pretty great in bed.” I froze for a moment, not really processing it yet. She pointed to a hickey on her chest: “He bit me there last night, in the car. Tell him to be a little gentler next time.” My throat tightened, my fingertips trembling. “Have you no shame?” Her smile didn’t falter. She took my hand and placed it on her lower abdomen. “I can’t help it, I’m pregnant with Blake’s baby.” My body went rigid, my mind exploding. “He really loves you, but he honestly thinks you’re dirty.” “I gave him my first time, and I’ve never had an abortion for anyone else, so he promised me a wedding.” I stumbled backward, a pair of warm hands reached out to steady me. Without thinking, I slapped him. Blake stopped, his voice casual. “You know everything?” My body trembled, a terrible cold washing over me. Blake looked at me, pushing his tongue against his cheek. “You and Avril have been best friends for ages. Why can’t you be even half as sweet as her?” His tone was no different from before, every word a sharp knife piercing my heart. “Aren’t you disgusted?” I choked out. He paused, then smiled, uncaring. “Who told you to be so dirty?” “Every time I see your body, I can’t help but imagine you beneath other men.” He said, a flicker of disgust in his eyes. “There’s no way I’d let my child be born from such a dirty body.” I froze, my ears ringing. I stared at him, unable to believe it. Just yesterday, he’d held me close, whispering “I love you” over and over into my ear. He’d sworn he wouldn’t care about my past, no matter what it was. “Do you know what you’re saying?” My voice trembled violently, tears spilling out uncontrollably. He lifted a hand, gently wiping away my tears, and sighed. “I know.” “It’s not that I don’t love you, but I really wanted to know what it felt like to be with a virgin. Why did you lie to me first?” He took Avril’s hand. “Avril is your best friend, she won’t fight you for me. She even promised that our child can call you Mom.” “You should thank her.” I watched their fingers intertwine, my vision blurring. Yesterday, I found out I was pregnant. I’d invited them to dinner, wanting to share the good news with the two most important people in my life. But as soon as they met, they ignored me and started bickering with each other. Avril accused Blake of not spending enough time with me. Blake thought she was meddling. I was already used to their dynamic, and I pushed my own pregnancy news to the back of my mind. When dinner ended, they were still arguing about who he’d spend the weekend with. But now, they stood together, telling me they were having a baby. Seeing me gasp for breath in pain, Blake stepped forward anxiously, trying to take my hand. “As long as you don’t make a fuss, we can go back to how things were.” “Yesterday, after Avril and I argued, I told you I had an emergency at work. Actually, we were having sex in the car.” “She was wearing a red lingerie set, I just couldn’t resist.” My heart felt like a huge hole had been torn through it, through which freezing winds howled. My teeth chattered. “Avril is my best friend!” Then, I looked at Avril. “Why?” Avril took a step closer, grasping my hand. “Precisely because we’re friends, I won’t threaten your position.” “Blake and I were just enjoying some excitement for a bit.” “In our hearts, you’ll always be the most important one.” My fingertips trembled, my chest heavy with a bitter ache. Blake casually kissed my cheek. “Cheer up. Weren’t you most excited to see Avril in her wedding dress?” “Pick out a bridesmaid dress for yourself while you’re at it.” The diamonds on the wedding dress reflected a blinding light, stinging my eyes. Tears blurred my vision. I raised my hand again, slapping him across the face. “You’re both so dirty, so disgusting!” The words had barely left my mouth when I was violently shoved, crashing into the corner of a table. A sharp pain shot through me. Avril’s crying voice reached my ears. “We’re dirty?” “Lester, you went out of your way to seduce Johnny and slept with him. What right do you have to call me dirty?” Blake looked at me coldly. “Calm down, Lester.”

Blake left with Avril. But I sank powerlessly into the abyss of my memories. Avril and I had been best friends since childhood. When she was seventeen, her family went through a tragedy. Her father passed away, and her mother remarried, taking her with her. But Avril grew increasingly unhappy, crying to me that her stepfather’s son, Johnny, treated her terribly. I felt sorry for her plight, living under someone else’s roof, and often went to keep her company. Until her birthday. I used the money I’d saved for a long time to buy her a dress she’d wanted. But when I arrived at her house, after drinking a glass of juice, I lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes again, all I felt was an unbearable pain. Johnny had violated me. And Avril was crying, holding me, her harsh words fiercely scolding Johnny, ringing in my ears. Fate wouldn’t let me go. Just as I thought about giving up and dying, I found out I was pregnant. My parents took me to get an abortion and moved to another city, but the pain didn’t fade with time. When I met Blake, my depression hadn’t healed, and I was consumed by insecurity. He always looked at me with tender eyes, then smiled and pinched my cheek. “Why are you always so sad?” I looked at his bright eyes, afraid to easily accept him. But he would stay by my side, holding my hand and saying, “It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.” He was like a light, healing me, helping me let down my guard. The day we made our relationship official, he reassured me, promising to protect me forever. From dating to marriage, Blake was consistently good, bringing everything wonderful for me to choose from. But now… Tears streamed down my face. I thought my life had started anew. Yet the two people I loved most had conspired to tear open my old, deep wounds, and then rubbed salt in them. The heartbreaking pain jolted me awake. I cried until I choked, feeling numb. When my eyes were so swollen I could only open them a slit, my phone rang. It was messages from Blake and Avril. [Lester, go to the hospital and get some miscarriage prevention medication.] [We played a bit too rough, and it scared Avril’s baby.] Avril, meanwhile, only sent a intimate photo of her and Blake. I stared at the photo, my breathing shaky. My phone rang loudly in the silent room. Blake’s satisfied voice pierced my eardrums. “Lester, did you see the message?” I squeezed out a sound from my throat, every word ending with a trembling tremor. “Blake, how can you be so disgusting?” “Aren’t you afraid I’ll go crazy and kill both of you?” There was a moment of silence on the other end. Then Avril’s light laugh came through. “Lester, you’re so weak. Even a loud voice makes you burst into tears. How could you ever have the guts to kill anyone?” “It’s not like you haven’t killed before; you killed Johnny’s baby.” “But you’d never hurt your husband’s baby, would you?” She urged me to hurry with the medication, then hung up. Listening to her confident tone, I suddenly laughed. The reason I was afraid of loud noises was because of Johnny’s wild laughter on the day he assaulted me. It was a traumatic stress response. But I wasn’t even afraid of death anymore. I wouldn’t let them off easy. I went to them. Pushing open the door, I saw clothes scattered all over the floor. The two of them sat on the sofa, kissing passionately. The wet, smacking sounds of their kissing constantly pricked my eardrums. I gripped my phone tightly, slowly walking closer. Avril saw me and provocatively increased her panting. Perhaps seeking more thrills, she brought up what happened years ago. “Blake, when I found out Lester seduced Johnny…” “They were lying in my bed, kissing just like this.” Listening to her shameless slander, my hand trembled. Hatred surged, and rage burned away the last remnants of my sanity. I held up my phone, pointing the camera at their flushed, dazed faces. I held back my tears, pulled my lips into a smile, and spoke coldly into the camera. “This is a live stream of catching my husband and my best friend cheating.” “You two, feel free to perform.”

Blake’s body stiffened. He instinctively pushed Avril’s head into his embrace. The next second, he reached out and violently knocked my phone away. “Lester, what the hell are you doing?” I didn’t move, my gaze fixed on his wrist. Where his veins bulged, there was a newly tattooed, obscure string of letters. I instantly felt dizzy, and the image of that grinning man flashed before my eyes again. He had an identical tattoo. That wrist had once choked my neck, tracing every inch of my skin over and over. I bit down on my teeth, my voice trembling violently. “Blake, what is that?” Blake glanced at his wrist and curled his lips into a smirk. “Avril said you like men with tattoos on their wrists.” I snapped my head up, meeting Avril’s challenging gaze. The tightly strung wire in my mind suddenly snapped. I grabbed the knife from the table and held it against Avril’s throat. My hand was shaking, and I couldn’t stop sobbing. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” You deliberately made Blake get a tattoo identical to Johnny’s, just to sicken me. Avril’s face changed, but she still looked up and met my eyes. “It’s just a tattoo, what’s the big deal?” I was on the verge of collapsing, and my hands involuntarily tightened. Blood welled up, but Avril smiled. A sudden, powerful force shoved me away, and the slap across my face made my cheek burn. “Lester, are you crazy?” My eyes were blurry with tears, meeting Blake’s furious gaze. “Yes, I’m crazy!” Saying that, I struggled to my feet, laughing through my tears, bending at the waist. “Do you know why Avril made you get this tattoo?” Just as I was about to speak, Avril suddenly cried out in pain, and blood flowed from beneath her. Blake’s face drastically changed. He no longer cared about my words. He quickly scooped Avril into his arms, using his elbow to forcefully hit my chest, pushing me out of the way. Blake stared at me coldly. “If anything happens to the baby, I won’t let you off.” He strode away, not sparing me another glance. I fell to the ground, drained of strength, my heart feeling as if it had been ripped in half. But my tears had long since dried up. I stumbled out of there, feeling dazed. As soon as I stepped outside, my vision went black, and I completely lost consciousness. When I woke up again, I was in a hospital room. The nurse taking care of me said I’d had a miscarriage. She called my family, but no one answered. “No one’s here to look after you. What will you do?” I lay in bed, tears soaking the pillow. My parents were hundreds of miles away. In this city, Blake and Avril were the only people close enough to be considered family. But neither of them showed up. I only received photos from Avril. They were embracing and kissing intimately, carelessly. I tormented myself, looking at the photos over and over. Jealousy and hatred burned inside me relentlessly. How could those two be happy while trampling on my pain? I wouldn’t accept it. I sent the old pregnancy test results, which I’d kept for a long time, to Blake. He didn’t reply. It wasn’t until late afternoon that he pushed open my hospital room door. His gaze was heavy, falling on my lower abdomen. “When did you find out?” I curled my lips into a sarcastic smile. “The day Avril was trying on wedding dresses. I wanted to tell you then.” He didn’t speak, just lit one cigarette after another. Smoke shrouded his eyes, hiding his conflicted expression. After a long time, I heard his almost indifferent voice. “Just get rid of it.” “My child can only be born from a clean body.” “Avril and I have discussed it. Our child will only call you Mom.” All the blood in my body turned to ice. I mechanically looked up and met his gaze. He walked to the bedside, taking my hand and squeezing it in his palm. “Isn’t this good? We still both love you.” My stomach churned instantly. I violently pushed him away and leaned over the bed, vomiting. He frowned, his voice turning cold. “I’ve already scheduled your abortion procedure.” As his words fell, a doctor pushed open the door. They forcibly grabbed my arms. I couldn’t fight back, tears streamed down my cheeks and splattered on the floor. “Blake, I’m asking you one last time. Do you really not want this baby?” His eyes seemed to hold a flicker of reluctance, but his voice was a resolute, definite refusal. “Lester, don’t make a scene.” I suddenly laughed, shaking off their grip like a madwoman. Under everyone’s stunned gaze, I resolutely climbed out the window.

In the moment of freefall, I saw Blake’s horrified expression. I smiled, fantasizing almost hysterically. If I fell and was smashed to pieces, would he regret it? Would he and Avril be wracked with guilt, unable to sleep for the rest of their lives? But falling from the third floor wouldn’t kill me. Several of my ribs broke, piercing my lungs. The excruciating physical pain meant I couldn’t die, but I couldn’t truly live either. After the emergency treatment, Blake sat beside me. “Was it worth it?” “Lester, the baby was gone already. What’s the point of scaring people by jumping out a window?” His voice was laced with impatience and annoyance. As if I was a burden he could never shake off. I managed a bitter smile, my voice raw. “What good would scaring you do?” “Blake, you’re an asshole.” “An asshole who couldn’t even accept his own child.” The patience vanished from his face, replaced by endless coldness. “Blame yourself for not being more careful.” “No matter how much someone forced you, you still opened your legs.” A single dismissive sentence denied everything from the past, each word a sharp knife torturing my heart. I suddenly felt exhausted. “Let’s break up.” “I’ll let you and Avril be together.” He froze, staring at me blankly for a long time without making a sound. I didn’t look at him, pulling out my phone and calling Avril. She arrived quickly. “Blake, go outside for a bit. Lester and I need to talk.” He looked at me, and in the end, said nothing. Only the two of us remained in the room. I looked at her, my voice ethereal. “Are you satisfied? Then and now, you’ve destroyed me.” She smiled, a hint of tears in her eyes. “I didn’t want to do it.” “But only by giving you to Johnny could I escape.” I closed my eyes. My heart, which should have been aching, felt numb. She continued. “Lester, I’ve always felt guilty towards you.” “That’s why I won’t completely steal Blake away.” “It’s just a game. Once I’m done, I’ll give him back to you.” Years of accumulated hatred erupted instantly. I suddenly laughed, this time without hesitation. Dragging my weakened body, I lunged at Avril. With a powerful thrust, I plunged the cold, gleaming knife into her stomach. She screamed for help in pain. When Blake pushed open the door, Avril had already fainted. All the color drained from his face. He violently kicked me away. “Lester, you’re trying to kill her! Are you crazy?” I wiped the blood from my face, my voice eerily calm. “She owed me this.” Blake’s grim gaze fell upon my face. He picked up Avril, who was covered in blood, and gritted his teeth. “This isn’t over.” But I slapped the signed divorce papers onto his chest. “Between you and me, our scores are settled.” He stared at the signature page, his eyes trembling. “Lester, are you serious?” He was about to say more, but Avril in his arms groaned in pain. “The baby… will the baby be okay…” The panic in his eyes vanished. He took a deep breath. “We’ll talk when I get back.” This time, he didn’t hesitate. I suppressed the heartache, letting out a bleak laugh. That day would never come. I wiped away my tears, ready to head straight to the airport. But as I stepped out, I bumped into someone, and my body uncontrollably trembled, my steps faltering. Avril’s baby was gone. But Blake was absent-minded, frequently thinking about the divorce papers. After staying until Avril woke up, he felt increasingly uneasy. He turned and rushed to find me. But as he pushed open the door. The scene that met his eyes made him utterly collapse.

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In the third year of hiding my identity and marrying Alpha Lucas, he still hadn’t made our relationship public. His excuse was that he worried I’d be hunted down by his enemies. But I overheard him chatting casually with friends: “Sophie is just a useless Omega. She’s not even as pretty as Isabella.” “But if I divorce her now, she’ll take half my assets. The loss would be too great.” “I’m starting to regret making her my mate. With her status, she’s only good enough to be my mistress at best.” So I handed him divorce papers. When he saw I was walking away with nothing, he breathed a sigh of relief. Then, pretending to be generous, he said: “I’ll give you twenty million as compensation.” I smiled and declined: “I’m still young. I can afford to take risks.” He didn’t know I wasn’t the ordinary Omega he thought I was. I’m the beloved stepsister of the Alpha of North America’s most powerful pack, the Shadow Fang Pack. Lucas’s current status and wealth all came from my stepbrother’s support. Now, I’m going to take it all back. 0

My third year married to Lucas. To get closer to him, I hid my identity and took a job as an administrative assistant at Lucas’s company. I just wanted to see him a little more each day. But on my third day at work, my colleague Chloe sent me a video. The camera focused on a private room where Lucas and his beta Isabella sat side by side. Isabella turned toward him, hooking her finger around Lucas’s tie and pulling him close. “Lucas,” her voice carried a hint of intoxication, “do you have feelings for me or not?” Lucas pressed her hand down, saying in a low voice: “Now’s not the time to talk about this.” “Give me an answer, Lucas.” Her voice rose slightly. She glanced at the others nearby, then looked back at him. “Right now. Tell me, do you love me or not?” Lucas was silent for a few seconds, then raised his hand to rub his temples, his tone weary: “Do you have to do this?” Isabella laughed, released his tie, casually picked up his drink and took a sip, then set down the glass, grabbed her bag, and got up to leave. Lucas immediately stood up and briefly told the group: “Excuse me for a moment,” then hurried after her. The video ended. Chloe’s message came right after: [They left together! Haven’t come back all afternoon! Think something’s going to happen tonight?] I stared at the darkened screen, my fingertips numb. Before I could catch my breath, my phone vibrated again. Lucas’s message popped up: [Working all night tonight, not coming home, don’t wait up.] My heart sank. I called him right away. At first, no one answered. I called several times in a row. The call connected. “Honey, my phone was on silent, didn’t hear it. What’s wrong?” “Honey, are you really not coming home tonight?” I asked through clenched teeth, my nails digging into my palm. “Yeah, it’s a get-together. Everyone’s here. Can’t leave. Hope you understand, honey.” “Are there women at your party?” He paused, then laughed: “No, since when do you check up on me? Want to video chat so I can prove my innocence?” Just then, I heard it. The clear rustling sound of an expensive shirt rubbing against hotel sheets. Then a suppressed, brief groan escaped from deep in his throat. “Mm…” All the blood in my body seemed to freeze instantly. After three years with Lucas, I knew exactly what that sound meant. “No need for video…” I was afraid I might throw up. “You have fun. I’m going to bed.” “Honey,” his voice was terribly hoarse, “we closed a big deal tonight. Starting tomorrow, everyone’s going to be working overtime. I’ll probably be working late, so don’t wait for me for dinner these days.” The call ended. I didn’t sleep all night, already planning to confront Lucas directly tomorrow and hopefully leave him with nothing. But at four in the morning, Lucas came home. “Honey?” He obviously didn’t expect me to still be awake. He froze for a moment, then showed his usual gentle smile. “Why aren’t you asleep? Didn’t I tell you not to wait up?” “Where did you go?” I stared at him, my voice soft. “Didn’t I tell you? At a party?” “Was it a party, or a date with another woman?” “Sophie,” he sighed, his voice full of exhaustion and helplessness, “did someone send you something? I admit, Isabella confessed to me at the party. But I turned her down. We’ve known each other so long—if I liked her, why would I have married you?” “Besides…” He hugged me, his palm rubbing my neck, “wouldn’t you know if I’d cheated on you?” Calming down, I realized he was right. When I was 18, he had already marked me. If one mate cheats, the other suffers unbearably. If Lucas had really cheated, how could I not feel the pain? Maybe I really was overthinking it. 0

“I’m sorry,” I leaned against his shoulder, tears soaking his shirt, “I’m just… so afraid of losing you.” That night he was especially gentle. He heated milk for me, coaxed me to sleep, just like every night for the past three years. I curled up in his arms, telling myself: Trust him. Trust this man I’ve loved for three years. I almost really believed it. The next morning, Lucas specially got up early to make me breakfast. “Come home early today, okay?” I saw him to the door, helping him straighten his tie. “Okay, no overtime today. I’ll come home and keep you company.” He kissed my forehead. “What do you want for dinner? I’ll make it for you.” “I like everything you make.” Watching his retreating figure, I even started to feel guilty: How could I suspect him? He’s so good to me. But there was still some unease in my heart. So I didn’t tell him I was working at his company. After seeing Lucas off, I drove to the company alone. I’d just sat down at my desk when Isabella showed up at the office. She was carrying a lunch box and walked straight through Lucas’s office door. The door wasn’t fully closed. A few minutes later, I picked up an irrelevant document, pretending I needed to deliver something, and walked toward that door. Through the crack, I saw her straddle Lucas’s lap, cup his face in her hands, and give him a long, suffocating kiss. Lucas’s hands immediately gripped her waist tightly, while his other hand expertly explored beneath her skirt. “Did you miss me?” Isabella gasped as they separated, her lips glistening. “What do you think?” Lucas’s voice was low and husky, his hand still moving under her skirt. Lucas chuckled softly, leaned close to her ear and said something. Isabella giggled and playfully hit his chest. In that moment, the vague fear from last night’s phone call transformed into a soul-piercing, undeniable agony. Intense burning pain and nauseating betrayal surged through that invisible bond, crashing violently into my heart and brain. My legs went weak. I had to grab the wall to keep from collapsing, my stomach churning. I could barely stand, yet I still raised my phone and recorded everything. I didn’t actually need to witness it myself. But if I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I was afraid I wouldn’t give up. All afternoon, I watched Lucas and Isabella going in and out of the office like an outsider. They occasionally made eye contact, their gazes lingering. When Isabella handed him documents, her fingers “accidentally” brushed his hand. And I shattered a cup from the pain of their contact. During lunch, Isabella entered his office. She didn’t come out until half an hour later, her lipstick reapplied, her hair slightly mussed. The suffocating pain and absurd awareness coming from behind that closed door made me almost vomit. I didn’t even need to look to know what they were doing. Six o’clock in the evening. Closing time. I watched them head to the underground parking garage. Then I got in my car and followed them. I didn’t know what I wanted to see. Perhaps I just wanted an answer. If he’d fallen in love with someone else, why was he still pretending nothing was wrong? Why wouldn’t he divorce me? After Lucas dropped Isabella off at home, he went to a discreet members-only bar. I used the card Nathan gave me to get in and sat in the shadows near their private room. The door was ajar. I could see seven or eight people sitting inside. At first, the group discussed work projects. Later, they started talking about their personal lives. About kids, about wives… and of course, about mistresses. “I saw Isabella post on social media something about lovers finally getting together. What’s up? Did you finally come around and get Isabella into bed?” Someone asked. I couldn’t help but prick up my ears. Lucas said calmly: “You don’t understand the situation that day. I had no choice. Isabella was pressuring me. If I didn’t take her, she’d resign. You know, Isabella’s been with the company so many years, the company can’t do without her. Or rather… I can’t do without her.” “So Isabella’s okay with being a mistress? Lucas, don’t screw yourself over later.” “Right. And can your mate accept Isabella’s existence? Didn’t she notice anything yesterday?” “It’s simple. As long as you keep your distance, even a mate won’t detect these things.” So that was it. Apparently they all had experience with this, and had even figured out the effective range of the mate bond. Lucas set down his glass and spoke: “Sophie is just a useless Omega. She’s not even as pretty as Isabella.” “I’m starting to regret making her my mate. With her status, she’s only good enough to be my mistress at best.” “But divorcing now would mean too great a loss.” So he was worried about the loss. Made sense. Lucas and I were legally married. Divorce would mean splitting his marital assets. Lucas’s Silver Crest Pack was originally just a small pack, and the businesses under it barely made money. It was only after marrying me that he suddenly gained many opportunities to partner with Shadow Fang Pack’s enterprises. And Lucas finally had the standing to build connections with the Alphas of more powerful packs. Because although I’m an Omega, my stepfather and stepbrother are both powerful Alphas, and they dote on me. I got up and left the bar, walked to the curb, and called my stepbrother Nathan. “Sophia, what’s up? How come you’re calling me so late?” Nathan’s voice came through the receiver. I couldn’t hold back. Tears streamed down my face. “Soph, what’s wrong? Are you crying?” I was sobbing too hard to speak. Nathan immediately asked where I was. I gave him an address through my tears. Half an hour later, he appeared in front of me. “Where’s Lucas?” “He cheated.” 0

Nathan froze, his jaw clenched tight. “Where is he? I’m going to kill him.” I grabbed Nathan’s hand and shook my head: “No need. That would only dirty your hands.” Nathan stomped his foot hard on the ground in anger. But it still wasn’t enough to calm him down. He asked me: “Divorce?” I nodded without hesitation. “Could it be a misunderstanding?” I showed Nathan all the videos and photos saved on my phone. Even though I said nothing. Nathan had already made his decision. He immediately took out his phone and made several calls. He contacted suppliers connected to Lucas, telling them not to sign contracts that had just been negotiated but not yet signed, not to renew contracts that were expiring, and for contracts not yet expired, to withdraw discounts and charge full market price. After those few calls. Nathan took my hand: “Come on, let’s go home.” I shook my head, tears still hanging at the corners of my eyes: “Before going home, I want to move out first.” Without hesitation, Nathan drove to the place Lucas and I shared. Lucas had arranged the residence. I had nothing worth being attached to. I’d just lived here for three years, never imagining I’d leave this way. “If you want this place, I’ll get you the best lawyer to help you win it.” “No need. Anything touched by Lucas feels pretty dirty to me now.” Moving out of that villa. I wanted to wait for Lucas to contact me first, then confront him. But unfortunately. A week passed. He didn’t even notice I’d moved out. He just sent me his usual daily message: [Working late tonight, don’t wait up.] But in reality? I saw him and Isabella together every day. Each time brought me such clear pain. I’d planned to finish my current work before resigning, but one day I was suddenly notified by HR: immediate termination, leave the company at once. I protested and asked my department supervisor for a reason. The supervisor only said it was Ms. Rodriguez’s decision, that I was “not a good fit for the company culture.” I thought Isabella knew my identity and was deliberately targeting me. But unexpectedly, Chloe came to me and confessed. “Someone overheard me calling Ms. Rodriguez a ‘homewrecker’ that day, and word got out. We’ve been working overtime constantly these days. It wasn’t Mr. Lawson’s arrangement—it was Ms. Rodriguez deliberately targeting us. I was done for, but because you kept working overtime with me, I…” Chloe was crying uncontrollably. “I really need this job. I’m not as pretty as you, not as smart as you, so I went to Ms. Rodriguez and blamed you for calling her a ‘homewrecker.’” “I thought, I thought Ms. Rodriguez would just not let you stay to work here. I didn’t expect her to have security throw you out… I hurt you… I’m sorry…” I laughed. Completely out of anger. Partly angry at my friend’s betrayal. But more angry at Isabella for abusing her power and humiliating people like this. “It’s fine, I forgive you. Stop crying. Thank you for being a good friend to me this time. From now on, I wish you all the best.” With that, I picked up the documents I’d prepared long ago from the desk and started to leave. Chloe grabbed me, her face hopeful: “What about Ms. Rodriguez…” I said calmly: “Don’t worry, I’ll take the blame for this.” Then I raised my head. And shouted loudly across the entire office: “Isabella is a homewrecker. What, can’t even say it out loud!” 0

Instantly. Everyone in the office stopped what they were doing and looked at me in unison. Shock filled everyone’s eyes. And I, holding that “immediate termination notice,” charged straight into the conference room. At that very moment. All the company’s executives and supervisors were in an early meeting. My arrival was clearly very inappropriate. The executives in the conference room frowned one after another, somewhat disgusted with this clueless young woman. That’s right. Three years as Lucas’s mate. Not a single person in his company knew what his wife looked like. Including Isabella. Among those present, only Lucas showed some surprise in his eyes when he saw me. But he didn’t speak. The first to speak was still the meeting host, Isabella. Isabella lifted her chin, her sophisticated, mature face expressing utter disdain and impatience: “What’s so important it couldn’t wait?” I wasn’t polite: “Ms. Rodriguez, did you deliberately fire me because I said you were Mr. Lawson’s homewrecker?” The others present looked at Isabella with slightly surprised expressions. Isabella’s face stiffened, apparently not expecting a small administrative assistant to be so bold. She narrowed her eyes and said: “Since you already know, why bother asking?” There was no point in her denying it. There was plenty of gossip in the company. To silence the masses, you had to make an example. And in her view, I was that chicken to be killed to scare the monkeys. I met Isabella’s eyes and raised my voice: “I’m sorry, Ms. Rodriguez. I shouldn’t have said you were Mr. Lawson’s homewrecker!” Isabella’s expression was somewhat awkward, but she still held firm, crossing her arms and looking down: “Apologizing now is too late!” I looked at Lucas. His face was dark, clearly displeased. But what right did he have to be displeased? He was the one who lost face first. I sneered coldly: “It’s not too late at all. I’ll clear Ms. Rodriguez’s name right now!” I pulled open the door behind me, raising my voice even higher: “Although Ms. Rodriguez knew Lucas had a mate and still slept with him, she’s of course not Mr. Lawson’s homewrecker! After all, she’s about to be promoted to the main position! I, Alpha Lucas’s actual mate, am signing divorce papers right now to fulfill your love!” My announcement made Isabella’s face turn from green to white. The people present also realized my identity. Isabella too. Everyone looked at Lucas. Lucas was already furious. One year of dating, three years as mates… this was the first time I’d seen Lucas angry. “Have you caused enough trouble!” How could it be enough? I wanted to be dignified too. But you wouldn’t let me! “I have no other demands,” I pushed the document in front of Lucas. “Sign it.” Lucas glanced at the document title. “Divorce Agreement.” He froze. Isabella’s composure had already faltered, but seeing the document, she gained some confidence. “You—what do you mean?” I looked at her, then at Lucas: “I mean, I’m done playing games with you two.” Lucas stared at the agreement, then looked up at me: “Sophia, are you serious?” “What else?” I smiled. “I’m not a recycling center. I don’t handle garbage.” Isabella’s eyes flashed with wild joy, but she suppressed it, leaning close to Lucas and whispering: “She’s walking away with nothing. I’ve read the agreement. You can sign it.” Lucas ignored her, only looking at me: “Think carefully. Rejection—” “I’ve thought very carefully,” I interrupted him. “Compared to continuing as your mate, I’d rather walk away with nothing. But today, I’m only signing the divorce agreement. As for rejection… that’s between us, not something to resolve here today. I need time.” I looked at everyone present and raised my voice: “Everyone here is a witness. Today, I, Sophie, want the divorce. I’m the one who doesn’t want him anymore. As for the reason—” The conference room was deathly silent. I put away my phone and looked at Lucas: “Now, can you sign?”

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I was the one who saved Lucas Thornfield, but he believed it was Serena who was his savior. He called me vicious and forced me to donate blood to the pretending-to-be-sick Serena again and again. “Having your blood flow into her body is the greatest honor of your pathetic life.” After three years of torment from constant blood draws, I finally signed the “Deep Sea” memory erasure agreement, willing to risk a 50 percent mortality rate just to completely forget him. But when I was reborn with a completely new identity and stood on the international stage, he knelt before me, begging through tears for my forgiveness. I sneered and pushed him away. “Mr. Thornfield, you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” Stella POV “Miss Winters, this is the ‘Deep Sea’ memory erasure and identity reconstruction agreement you applied for. The procedure is irreversible, with a mortality rate as high as thirty percent. Once you sign, in seven days, Stella Winters will cease to exist. Please confirm one final time.” In the sterile white therapy room, the doctor pushed a document toward me. I lowered my eyes and gripped the pen without a moment’s hesitation, signing my name at the bottom. The scratching sound of the pen tearing across paper severed the absurd and pitiful obsession that had consumed the last ten years of my life. Ten years. I’d finally decided to let myself go, and to let Lucas go. The entire city knew I was the woman Lucas couldn’t shake off. To marry him, I’d stopped at nothing, even driving away the woman Lucas loved most, Serena Marlowe, forcing her to leave town. But no one knew that when I was fifteen, it was Lucas who slipped a hand-carved wooden ring onto my finger under a sky full of stars, his face flushed as he said, “Stella, when I grow up, I’ll marry you and make you my one and only Mrs. Thornfield.” At eighteen, during that terrible fire, Lucas shielded me from harm. A burning beam struck his head, leaving him blind and robbing him of all his memories. To save him, I was left with horrifying burn scars covering my back. But when Lucas woke up in the hospital and regained his sight, the first person he saw was Serena in her white dress, looking delicate and pitiful. Serena took credit for saving him. From that moment on, Lucas’s memory held no trace of me. Only the image of Serena, the one who “risked her life to save him.” For the past seven years, I’d exhausted every method trying to awaken his memories, only to be met with escalating disgust and torment. Especially three years ago, when Serena was diagnosed with a rare blood disorder requiring long-term transfusions. And I happened to have the same rare blood type that matched hers perfectly. Lucas married me not out of compromise, but to turn me into Serena’s personal walking blood bank. “Stella, as long as Serena needs it, draining you dry is what you owe her!” Lucas had been saying this for three years. I gathered my thoughts and handed the agreement to the doctor, then stood and left. Walking out of the discreet private clinic, the autumn wind whipped fallen leaves against my face. The cold cut through to my bones. I’d barely gotten into my car when my phone screen lit up. The name “Lucas” flashed on the display. I pressed accept. A voice as cold as ice came through the speaker. “Get to Grace Memorial Hospital within half an hour. Serena fainted from anemia.” No greeting. No pleasantries. Just a cold command. In the past, I would have felt heartbroken, made excuses about not feeling well myself, tried to beg for even the smallest scrap of his pity. But today, I simply replied with one word. “Okay.” Lucas seemed to pause on the other end. After all, every previous time I’d been summoned for a blood draw, I’d cried and made a scene, forcing him to come back to the villa and have dinner with me before I’d agree. “Don’t try any tricks.” Lucas snorted coldly and hung up. Half an hour later, I arrived at the VIP ward on schedule. The hospital room door was half-open. Lucas sat by the bed, carefully peeling an apple for Serena. His usually hard jawline softened impossibly when facing her. “Lucas, I’m fine. Don’t keep making things difficult for Stella. She’s your wife, after all. Constantly drawing her blood makes me feel terrible…” Serena leaned against the pillow, her voice so weak it seemed a breeze could blow it away. “Wife? What kind of wife is she?” Lucas’s voice turned cold instantly, dripping with undisguised sarcasm. “She’s just a woman who’ll do anything to climb the social ladder. Having her blood flow into your body is her honor.” I stood outside the door listening to these words. My heart felt like an invisible hand was squeezing it tight, but in the next second, it went completely numb. I pushed open the door and walked in. “Go ahead and draw it.” I proactively rolled up my sleeve, exposing an arm covered in needle marks, and spoke to the nurse beside me. Lucas looked up, his sharp gaze fixed on me. Today I hadn’t become hysterical, hadn’t questioned him with red-rimmed eyes, hadn’t even glanced at him once. “400cc.” Lucas spoke coldly. The nurse gasped. “Mr. Thornfield, Miss Winters just donated 300cc last week. If we draw another 400cc today, her body won’t be able to handle it. She might go into shock…” “I said 400cc.” Lucas’s tone was freezing, brooking no argument. I didn’t object. I simply watched quietly as the thick needle pierced my vein. Dark red blood flowed through the tube. I felt the warmth draining from my body bit by bit, my vision beginning to darken. But I didn’t cry out in pain. I didn’t even furrow my brow. Seven days. Just seven more days, and I could be completely free. What was this little bit of pain?

Stella POV Blood drained from my body drop by drop. My heartbeat grew slower and slower, my breathing increasingly difficult. When the 400cc blood bag was finally full, I couldn’t hold on any longer. My body went limp and I slid from the chair. Instead of hitting the cold, hard floor I expected, a strong arm suddenly grabbed my wrist and yanked me back. Lucas looked down at me from above, his brows knitted together. “Done with your performance?” He roughly released my hand. “Drawing a little blood and you play dead. Stella, your acting is getting more and more pathetic.” I collapsed back into the chair, gasping for air in great gulps. Cold sweat soaked through my clothes, stinging the hideous burn scars on my back. I had no strength to argue. I just pressed a cotton swab against the needle mark, braced myself against the wall, and shakily stood up. “Since the draw is finished, may I leave?” Lucas grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up at him directly. “Leave? Did I say you could leave?” Lucas sneered. “Next month’s ‘StarGlow’ International Jewelry Design Competition. Serena is entering. Hand over that ‘Tears of the Deep’ design draft of yours.” I stared at him in disbelief. “Tears of the Deep” was a work I’d poured an entire year of my heart and soul into, created to commemorate my late mother. It was my masterpiece, the work I’d prepared for my comeback on the international stage as a genius jewelry designer. “That’s my work.” I bit my lip, my voice trembling. “Yours?” Lucas acted as if he’d heard the biggest joke in the world. “Stella, have you forgotten? Everything you have now, the Lu family gave you! Serena’s hands were injured saving me. She can’t hold a brush steadily anymore. As the culprit, what’s wrong with drawing a few designs for her?” “I didn’t set that fire! I was the one who saved you!” I’d been repeating this explanation for seven years, but every single time, he crushed it beneath his feet. “Shut up!” Lucas suddenly tightened his grip, his eyes terrifyingly dark. “You still dare bring up what happened back then? If you hadn’t been jealous of Serena and deliberately locked her in the equipment room, how would the fire have started? Serena dragged me out of the flames and suffered severe burns on both hands. She can never complete the designs she loved again. And you? You hid outside without a scratch!” Without a scratch? I closed my eyes in despair. My back still bore the permanent brand that fire had given me. Every time it rained, the pain was unbearable. But he didn’t believe me. He only believed in the insignificant burn on the back of Serena’s hand. “Lucas, don’t push Stella anymore…” Serena in the hospital bed started crying right on cue, tears falling in big drops. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t dream of standing on the design competition stage anymore. I’ll go tell the organizers I’m withdrawing right now…” “Serena, don’t cry.” Lucas immediately released me, turned, and walked to the bedside, gently wiping away Serena’s tears. “I told you, the glory that belongs to you. I’ll definitely help you get it back.” He turned his head to look at me again, his eyes restored to absolute coldness. “Tomorrow morning, I want to see the final draft of ‘Tears of the Deep’ in Serena’s email. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee that cemetery plot your mother has in the south district won’t become a commercial zone tomorrow.” My entire body trembled. I looked at this man I’d loved for ten years in disbelief. He was actually threatening me with my mother’s resting place! My heart felt like it was being sliced back and forth with a dull knife. The pain reached such extremes that it became numb. I looked at Lucas and smiled faintly. “Fine. I’ll give it to you.” Lucas froze, about to say something more when my figure had already disappeared from the doorway. I didn’t look back. Even when I heard him mutter under his breath, “Just a vicious woman. How could I possibly care?” I ignored it. After all, this would all be over soon.

Stella POV Three days later, at the “StarGlow” International Jewelry Design Competition awards gala. As Lucas’s wife in name, I was forced to attend. I wore a high-necked, long-sleeved black evening gown that covered me completely. I wore this dress solely to hide the scars on my back and the dense needle marks covering my arms. I sat quietly in a corner, watching Serena shine brilliantly at center stage. Serena wore a haute couture white dress with my heart and soul around her neck. “Tears of the Deep.” It was a necklace with a rare blue diamond as the centerpiece, surrounded by smaller diamonds, like the desperate tears of a mermaid in the deep sea. Breathtakingly beautiful. “The winner of this year’s ‘StarGlow’ Competition Gold Award is… Miss Serena! Her piece ‘Tears of the Deep,’ with its unique emotional expression and stunning cutting technique, has conquered all the judges!” The spotlight fell on Serena. She covered her mouth excitedly, her eyes filled with tears as she looked down at Lucas in the audience. Lucas sat in the front row VIP section, gazing tenderly at the woman on stage, leading the applause. Thunderous applause filled the room. I lifted the wine glass in front of me and drained it in one gulp. The bitter liquid slid down my throat into my stomach, but it couldn’t match even one ten-thousandth of the bitterness in my heart. After the awards ceremony came the media interview segment. Serena held Lucas’s arm, radiant and dazzling, accepting the media’s flashbulb baptism. “Miss Marlowe, we heard that due to your hand injury, you haven’t produced any new work in recent years. This ‘Tears of the Deep’ marks your return to the peak. What was your inspiration?” Serena glanced shyly at Lucas beside her and said softly, “This piece was designed to thank someone who has silently protected me and given me light in my darkest moments. It represents undying love.” The crowd erupted in envious exclamations. Just then, a sharp voice suddenly cut in. “Mrs. Thornfield, we heard you were also a somewhat famous talented designer in the industry. Why haven’t you published a single piece in the three years since you married Mr. Thornfield? Has your talent run out, so you can only coast on the Thornfield family’s influence?” All the cameras instantly turned toward me in the corner. Malicious, mocking, and gleeful gazes pierced me like blades, pinning me in place. I lifted my head and looked at Lucas. I wanted to see what my husband would do at this moment. Lucas’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, then he spoke coldly. “Stella indeed has no design talent. The only thing she can do well is hold the empty title of Mrs. Thornfield. Everyone, there’s no need to waste time on a worthless person. Tonight’s star is Serena.” Something in my head seemed to explode completely. A worthless person. My ten years of youth, the talent I took such pride in, the half-life I’d destroyed to save him. In his eyes, it was all dismissed as “worthless.” Suppressed laughter rippled through the crowd. “So she’s just useless. I thought she was something special.” “And she dares occupy the position of Mrs. Thornfield. How shameless. Mr. Thornfield clearly loves Miss Marlowe.” I didn’t cry. I didn’t even feel angry. I simply stood up slowly and, under everyone’s contemptuous gazes, lifted my dress and walked step by step toward the banquet hall exit. My spine remained perfectly straight. Lucas caught my wrist at a hallway corner and slammed me hard against the wall. “Why are you running? Embarrassed?” Lucas ground his teeth as he stared at my face. “Wasn’t I telling the truth? Besides scheming to force me to marry you, what else can you do?” I didn’t struggle. I just quietly looked at this face so close to mine. The face I’d once loved to the bone. “Lucas.” “You’re right. I really am a worthless piece of trash.” Lucas suddenly leaned down, rough and venting his anger through force. “Stella, what kind of playing-hard-to-get game are you trying now?!” The taste of blood spread between our lips and teeth. I didn’t respond. I didn’t resist. Just then, a shocked cry came from the end of the hallway. “Lucas…” Serena stood in the distance, her eyes red, looking at us tangled together as if she might collapse at any moment.

Stella POV Lucas snapped out of it as if waking from a dream and shoved me away violently. The force was so great that my back slammed hard against the solid wall. A dull pain radiated from the old wounds on my spine. I groaned. “Serena, let me explain…” Lucas strode toward Serena, his tone full of panic. Completely different from the roughness he’d just shown me. Serena covered her face, tears falling like broken pearls. “Lucas, I know Stella is your wife and I’m just an outsider… I shouldn’t be disturbing you two. I’ll leave, I’ll leave right now…” She turned to run but “accidentally” crashed into a giant decorative champagne tower nearby. The towering champagne tower collapsed with a crash, countless glass shards flying everywhere. “Ah!” Serena screamed and fell among the broken glass covering the floor. A gash immediately opened on her fair calf. “Serena!” Lucas’s eyes nearly split with rage as he rushed over and carefully gathered Serena into his arms. Serena leaned against him, trembling, but her gaze traveled over Lucas’s shoulder to me. “Stella, I know you hate me for taking your design draft, but why did you push me? My hands are already ruined. Do you want to destroy my legs too?” I stood three meters away from the champagne tower. I watched Serena’s performance without even the energy to sneer. “I didn’t push her.” I stated the fact flatly. “You still dare lie!” Lucas whipped his head around, his eyes blood-red. “Stella, you’re absolutely vicious! If anything happens to Serena, you’ll pay with your life!” He stood up holding Serena. As he passed me, his eyes were as cold as if looking at a corpse. “Get out of my way!” He shoved me aside roughly. I was already weak from the blood draw. His anger-filled shove made me lose my balance completely. I fell straight toward the pile of sharp glass shards on the floor. The sound of a blade cutting through flesh was especially clear in the silent hallway. My right hand pressed down hard on a large, razor-sharp piece of glass. Blood gushed out instantly, staining the floor red. Piercing pain shot from my palm, but I didn’t make a sound. I just bit my lip hard and watched Lucas carry Serena away, disappearing around the corner without looking back once. He didn’t even glance back at me. Didn’t see my right hand covered in blood. I sat collapsed in a pool of blood, looking at my right hand pierced through by glass, and suddenly started laughing softly. I laughed and laughed, and then tears fell. This hand had once drawn countless designs that amazed the world. This hand had once gripped Lucas tightly in the flames, refusing to let go. This hand had once prepared countless meals for him with such hope. Now it was ruined. Good. I didn’t need it anymore anyway. Hospital emergency room. The doctor looked at my mangled right hand, his brow furrowed deeply. “Miss Winters, the glass shard severed the main nerves and tendons in your right hand. Although surgery can stitch it up, your right hand will no longer be able to perform fine motor movements. Which means… you may never be able to hold a brush again.” I leaned against the hospital bed and nodded. “It’s fine. Just stitch it up.” I didn’t need a brush anymore. Four days until the “Deep Sea” agreement took effect. The suturing surgery was done without anesthesia because I’m allergic to standard anesthetics. I just watched as needle and thread passed through my flesh, enduring all the agony. Did it hurt? Compared to the pain in my heart, this was nothing. After bandaging the wound, I refused hospitalization and walked out of the hospital alone. The late-night streets were bitterly cold. I dragged my exhausted, broken body back to that villa called “home.” I pushed open the door. The living room was pitch black. Lucas hadn’t come home. I didn’t turn on the lights. Using the moonlight, I went upstairs to the bedroom. I pulled out a black suitcase and started packing. Actually, I didn’t have much to take. Everything in this villa was stained with Lucas’s presence, suffocating me. I opened a drawer. At the very back sat an old wooden box. I opened it. Inside lay a crudely carved wooden ring. That was from when I was fifteen, when Lucas carved it bit by bit with a pocketknife and placed it on my finger. “Stella, when I grow up, I’ll marry you and make you my one and only Mrs. Thornfield.” The young man’s vow still echoed in my ears, but now it had become the most vicious curse. I picked up the wooden ring with my undamaged left hand, walked to the balcony, and threw it into the trash bin below without hesitation. Along with my ten years of love, humble as dust, I threw it all away.

Stella POV The next morning, Lucas pushed open the villa door carrying a bone-chilling coldness. Serena had only suffered a minor superficial injury, but he’d still watched over her at the hospital all night. As he walked into the living room, he saw a maid carrying a black trash bag toward the exit. “Stop. What are you holding?” Lucas asked coldly. The maid jumped in fright and quickly answered. “Sir, these are things the madam asked me to throw away this morning. They’re all old things…” Lucas’s gaze sharpened, falling on the half-open trash bag. Inside was a pile of cut-up clothes. All the cheap items he’d casually bought me over the years, which I’d treasured and worn for three years. And in the middle of those fabric scraps, a familiar wooden ring appeared in Lucas’s line of sight. Lucas snatched the trash bag, pulling out the wooden ring. The ring had some age to it now. The edges had been worn smooth, and the inside still faintly bore the initials of our surnames. “Where is Stella?!” Lucas looked up sharply, his eyes bloodshot as he roared at the maid. “M-Madam is in the glass greenhouse in the back garden…” The maid trembled all over in fear. Lucas clenched the wooden ring and strode toward the back garden with long, determined steps. On this early autumn morning, a cold drizzle began to fall. The glass greenhouse had no heating. It was as cold as an icebox. I wore thin pajamas, using my left hand to awkwardly pull up withered rose bushes by their roots one by one, throwing them into a nearby trash can. These roses. I’d planted them by hand when I first married Lucas. I’d naively believed that if I tended them with care, they’d bloom brilliantly someday, just as I’d believed that if I loved him enough, he’d look at me eventually. Now the flowers were dead. So was my heart. “What are you doing?!” An angry roar suddenly came from behind me. My movements paused. I didn’t turn around, just said flatly, “Clearing out trash.” “Clearing out trash?” Lucas rushed forward in a few strides, grabbed my shoulder, and forcibly turned me around. “Stella, what kind of madness are you having? What’s the deal with this ring? Where did you steal it from?!” He shoved the wooden ring right in my face, his expression fierce as if he wanted to devour me. I looked at the wooden ring, then at Lucas’s enraged face, and suddenly felt it was unbearably ironic. He’d forgotten me, forgotten everything, yet only this ring triggered a reaction in him. Too bad. Too late. “Stole it?” I laughed softly. “If Mr. Thornfield says I stole it, then I stole it. It’s just a worthless piece of junk anyway. Throwing it away is no big deal.” “You!” Lucas grabbed my throat and pinned me against the cold glass wall. “Stella, do you think playing these tricks will get my attention? I haven’t settled the score with you for pushing Serena last night! Now, go to the hospital immediately and get on your knees to apologize to Serena! Otherwise, I’ll make you wish you were dead!” I was forced to tilt my head back, breathing becoming difficult. My right hand hung limply at my side, the thick bandage already soiled with rainwater and mud, faintly seeping bright red blood. But Lucas didn’t notice at all. “I… won’t… go…” I forced these words through gritted teeth. “Good! Very good!” Lucas was so angry he laughed, suddenly releasing his grip. I lost support and fell sitting in the cold mud, coughing violently. “Since you love staying here so much, then stay here! Without my permission, no one is allowed to let her out! And no one is allowed to bring her food!” Lucas turned and strode away. With a loud “bang,” the greenhouse door was locked tight from the outside. The cold autumn rain pounded against the glass, making suffocating sounds. I curled up in a corner, hugging my shivering body tight. Three days until the “Deep Sea” agreement took effect. Night fell. The autumn rain turned to freezing sleet mixed with ice. The temperature in the glass greenhouse dropped to freezing. I curled up on the muddy ground in the corner, my whole body burning, my consciousness beginning to blur. Excruciating pain came from my right hand wound, accompanied by the bone-deep aching brought on by high fever, as if countless ants were gnawing at my flesh and blood. “Lucas…” I mumbled that name carved into my bones in my feverish delirium. In my haze, I seemed to return to the fire scene when I was eighteen. Scorching flames devoured everything. The moment the beam fell, the young man held me tightly beneath him. “Stella, don’t be afraid… I’ll protect you…” The young man’s voice was gentle and firm, but in the next second, it transformed into Lucas’s ice-cold mockery. “What do you think you are? How dare you compare yourself to Serena?” “Draining you of your blood is what you owe her!” In the interweaving of ice and fire, I fell completely into darkness.

Lucas POV The next morning, I sat in the dining room, looking at the lavish breakfast spread before me without any appetite. I irritably tugged at my tie, unable to stop myself from glancing toward the back garden. A full day and night, and that woman hadn’t uttered a single word begging for mercy. “Sir, she’s been in the greenhouse all night. This morning the temperature dropped below freezing. She might…” The maid approached with coffee, speaking fearfully. “She won’t die!” I cut her off coldly and stood up. “A woman like her who’ll do anything to achieve her goals. Her life force is tough as nails!” Despite my words, my feet moved uncontrollably toward the back garden. The moment the greenhouse door opened, a bone-chilling cold hit me in the face. I immediately saw Stella collapsed on the muddy ground. She wore thin pajamas, covered in mud, lifeless as a discarded rag doll. Most striking was her right hand hanging at her side. The thick bandage had been completely soaked through with blood, turning a shocking dark red. “Stella!” My heart seized violently. An unprecedented panic grabbed hold of me instantly. I rushed over and gathered her into my arms. Where I touched, everything was scalding hot. “Stella! Wake up! Stop playing dead!” My voice trembled. I scooped her up horizontally and ran toward the garage like a madman. Grace Memorial Hospital, outside the emergency room. I slumped against the wall, my hands covered in Stella’s blood. The doctor came out, his expression grave. “Mr. Thornfield, Miss Winters’s high fever has triggered severe pulmonary infection. Additionally, her severed hand nerves weren’t treated promptly. The wound is seriously inflamed. Worse still, she’s chronically depleted from extensive blood loss. Her body is extremely weak. Her life is in danger at any moment.” “What did you say? Severed hand nerves?” I grabbed the doctor’s collar violently. “How could her hand be severed?!” “Miss Winters was brought to emergency the night before last with her right hand severely cut by glass. All the nerves and tendons were completely severed. In the future, she… she’ll never be able to hold a brush again.” I stood thunderstruck, frozen in place. The night before last… glass injury… When the champagne tower collapsed! I’d only cared about picking up the lightly injured Serena, but I’d shoved Stella hard toward that pile of broken glass! She’s a genius designer! Her hands are her life! Yet she hadn’t made a sound, letting me lock her in that freezing greenhouse to die! I released the doctor and staggered back two steps. My heart felt like an invisible hand was violently tearing it apart. The pain made it impossible to breathe. Just then, my phone rang urgently. It was Serena’s attending physician. “Mr. Thornfield, this is bad! Miss Marlowe’s condition has suddenly deteriorated, triggering acute bone marrow failure! We must perform a bone marrow transplant immediately, or she won’t make it through tonight!” My grip on the phone tightened suddenly. “Are there matches in the bone marrow bank?” “No! Currently, the only person who’s a complete match for Miss Marlowe is… is your wife, Stella.” Silence filled the corridor. I turned my head and looked at the tightly shut emergency room doors. Inside lay the wife whose right hand I’d just learned I’d personally destroyed, hovering between life and death. On the other end of the phone was the “lifesaver” I’d sworn to protect with my entire life. What should I do? What on earth should I do?

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Zavier is a famous director who made me work as a stunt double on his film set. He forced me to jump from a thirty-foot platform for his mistress. While I was trapped underwater in the freezing reservoir by the wire rigging, with my lungs running out of oxygen, all I could hear through the earpiece was him flirting and laughing with his mistress. “If Chrissy dies, she dies. You’re the one I love.” My heart turned to ash. Ten years of love had burned to nothing. That same day, I left for Alaska to volunteer at a wildlife sanctuary in the mountains. A year later, he was diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer and got on his knees to beg for my forgiveness. I stood there with my arm around my new lover, looking down at him coldly. “Zavier, you killed my child with your own hands and destroyed half my life. Playing the devoted lover now with what’s left of yours only makes me sick.” I turned and walked away without looking back. “In this life and every life to come, I pray I never meet you again.”

Chrissy’s POV “Cut! Perfect! That’s a wrap!” With the assistant director’s shout, the tension on set instantly dissipated. I was lowered from the thirty-foot wire rigging. The moment my feet touched the ground, a stabbing pain shot through my left knee. I couldn’t keep my balance and dropped to one knee on the mud-soaked mat. The rough blast suit choked me, making it hard to breathe. My shoulder, where I’d just crashed into the prop wall, was already bleeding through the fabric, burning hot with pain. Gritting my teeth, I was about to push myself up with one hand when rapid footsteps rushed past me, creating a gust of wind. “Lexi! Are you okay? That explosion was so loud. Did it scare you?” It was Zavier’s voice. The man I’d been with for seven years, who was now a hot new director rising in the entertainment industry. I looked up through the crowd to see him rushing anxiously toward the rest area. Sitting there was the female lead of this production, Lexi Summers. She was completely clean, not even a hair out of place, just clutching her chest with slightly reddened eyes, putting on a frightened act. “I’m fine. The blast was just so loud, my heart’s still racing.” Lexi leaned toward Zavier, her voice sweet and delicate, like a startled rabbit. Zavier didn’t hesitate to pat her back gently, his tone softer than I’d heard in ages. “Don’t be scared. I’m here. Your scenes are done for today. Go rest in your trailer.” I froze in place, watching their shameless display. The blood from my shoulder seemed to flow faster, dripping down my arm into the muddy water and spreading into dark red blooms. The crew around me was busy wrapping up. No one noticed me, the stunt double who’d just completed a dangerous high fall for Lexi Summers. I took a deep breath, fighting through the pain in my knee, and limped toward the monitor tent. I wanted to review the footage from that take to make sure there were no flaws in my performance. The tent was empty. The sound engineer had probably gone to the restroom, leaving the headset carelessly tossed on the mixer. I’d just put on the headset and hadn’t even pulled up the playback when a clear conversation suddenly came through. It was Lexi’s wireless mic. She hadn’t turned it off. “Chrissy fell so hard just now. Is she going to be okay? It looked scary.” Lexi’s voice carried a hint of testing the waters. Then came the sound of Zavier lighting a cigarette. The click of the lighter was especially sharp in the quiet headset. “What could possibly happen to her? She’s tough as nails. She survived rolling down a mudslide before. This height is nothing for her. Just routine.” Zavier’s tone was casual, even dismissive. “But… she’s still a woman. Aren’t you being too cold to Chrissy? Won’t she get upset? I heard you two used to…” “Used to is used to.” Zavier cut her off, his voice edged with irritation. “She’s hard as a rock. Doesn’t need anyone worrying about her. You think she’s delicate like you? I keep her on the crew because she’s useful. She knows what shots I need without me having to explain. As for feelings… they’ve just worn down into habit. What I feel for her is more like gratitude and obligation.” “Then… what about me?” Lexi’s voice dropped, tinged with grievance. “You?” Zavier let out a soft laugh, his voice suddenly lower, carrying an intimacy that made hearts race. “You’re nothing like her. She belongs in the mud. You belong in the spotlight.” I yanked off the headset. My stomach churned violently. Gratitude? Obligation? Useful? Tough as nails? This was the evaluation I’d earned after breaking three ribs for his independent film. I didn’t cry. I just felt cold. A chill seeping out from my bones, instantly freezing all my emotions. I pulled out my phone and opened a conversation I’d left untouched for a long time. It was with the captain of the Denali Mountain Wildlife Conservation Station. “Do you still need people for next month’s assignment?” The reply came quickly. “Need them! Desperately! But this time we’re going deep into the wilderness. You’ll be out of contact for at least three years. Conditions are extremely harsh. Are you sure you’ve thought this through?” I looked at the monitor showing Zavier helping Lexi into her trailer, my fingers typing steadily. “I’ve thought it through. I’m signing up. I’ll report to the base in five days.”

Chrissy’s POV “What are you spacing out about? Today’s sequence was beautiful. You’re my ace, as always.” A heavy slap landed on my shoulder. I gasped in pain and turned to face Zavier’s triumphant expression. He held two cans of ice-cold beer, casually tossing one to me like he was calling over a buddy. “What’s wrong? You look terrible.” He finally noticed something was off. His brow furrowed, but there wasn’t much concern in his eyes. More like he was calculating work schedules. “Did that take not go well? Want to do a safety?” I looked at the cold beer in my hand, then at those eyes that used to see only me. I suddenly found it absurd. His so-called love was treating me like a handy weapon. No maintenance needed, no care required. Just as long as I could clear obstacles for him. “No need. It was fine.” I set the beer on the table. “My shoulder’s a bit strained. I’m heading back.” Zavier paused, apparently not expecting me to refuse his “reward.” A flash of displeasure crossed his eyes, but he quickly masked it. “Alright then. Ice it when you get back. Tomorrow we’ve got an underwater escape scene. You need to be in top form. Whether this film wins awards depends on these major sequences.” He didn’t even ask if I was badly hurt. Didn’t even glance at my still-bleeding shoulder. It was so obvious. I nodded and turned toward the exit. Just as I reached the set entrance, I ran into Lexi, now changed into casual clothes. She wore an oversized black windbreaker that engulfed her frame, making her look even more delicate and adorable. I recognized that windbreaker. It was a limited edition Zavier had brought back last month when he’d gone location scouting in Scandinavia. At the time, I thought he’d bought it for me, since I often shivered through night shoots. But when I asked, he said it was a gift for an investor. Now that “gift” was wrapped around Lexi Summers. “Chrissy, are you leaving?” Lexi blocked my path, her smile picture-perfect innocence. She deliberately pulled the windbreaker tighter, the collar releasing a faint trace of the fir-scented cologne Zavier always wore. “Zavier said it would be windy tonight and was worried I’d catch cold, so he insisted I wear his jacket. Chrissy, you don’t mind, do you? Zavier said you’re tough and never get cold.” Her words were like soft needles, precisely targeting my vulnerable spots. I looked at that face, written all over with provocation disguised as innocence, and suddenly felt it was all so pointless. “I don’t mind.” I pulled at the corner of my mouth. “It’s just a jacket. If you like it, wear it. After all, I don’t need someone else’s hand-me-downs.” Lexi’s expression froze instantly, a flash of venom in her eyes. I didn’t bother with her anymore and walked straight off the set. I didn’t go back to the apartment I shared with Zavier. Instead, I took a cab to the hospital’s orthopedic department. The doctor looked at my MRI films, his brow knotted tight. “Miss Christie, your left meniscus is severely worn, and your shoulder ligaments show signs of old tears. If you continue doing these high-intensity stunt performances, you’ll likely spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair within six months.” The doctor’s voice echoed in the empty examination room like a death sentence. “I strongly recommend you stop all strenuous activity immediately and prepare for surgery.” I sat in the chair, staring at the blurry shadows on the films, silent for a long time. “Doctor, if I don’t have surgery and only do conservative treatment, will I still be able to walk normally?” “Walking normally, yes. But absolutely no running or jumping, and no heavy lifting.” The doctor sighed. “You’re still so young. Don’t gamble with your body.” I walked out of the hospital holding the medical records. Outside, the sky had gone completely dark. The city’s neon lights flickered, but they couldn’t warm my frozen hands and feet. I tore the medical records into pieces and threw them in a nearby trash can. No need for surgery. Once I got to Denali Mountain, I wouldn’t need to risk my life for anyone else. I’d only need to survive for myself. Four more days.

Chrissy’s POV Today is October twelfth. Seven years ago on this day, Zavier took me deep into an undeveloped mountain range to film a documentary. We were caught in a sudden mudslide. In that cramped cave, we held each other tight, thinking we would die there. That night, he wrapped the only dry piece of clothing he had around me and swore to me with tears in his eyes. “Chrissy, if we make it out alive, my life belongs to you. From now on, every October twelfth will be just for us. Just the two of us.” We survived. For the first five years, he kept his promise. No matter how busy he was, he’d cancel everything on this day to stay home with me, cook a meal together, and watch an old movie. But starting last year, he changed. Last year he said an investor had called an impromptu meeting he couldn’t miss. I waited for him all night, only to see him and Lexi photographed at a bar on the trending topics. He explained it was a crew dinner. I believed him. And this year? I sat in the dark living room, looking at the completely cold dishes on the table. The clock on the wall pointed to eleven at night. Heavy rain fell outside, raindrops hammering the windows with dull thuds. I picked up my phone and called Zavier. “Sorry, the number you have dialed is currently unavailable.” I called three times in a row. All went unanswered. I put down my phone and opened Instagram. The algorithm knew me well. The first post on my feed was one Lexi had posted ten minutes ago. The photo showed an elaborately romantic candlelit dinner table with a bouquet of bright red roses. Across from her sat half of a man’s shoulder. Though his face wasn’t visible, those shirt cuffs were the ones I’d personally gone to the boutique to pick out for him last month. The caption read. “He said some days shouldn’t be for dwelling on past suffering, but for celebrating new beginnings. Thank you for the surprise.” Location tagged: the city’s most exclusive revolving restaurant. Reading those words, my eyes suddenly stung. Past suffering? So our life-and-death memories had become “suffering” that needed to be abandoned in his eyes. And Lexi Summers was his “new beginning.” I didn’t smash things hysterically like some bitter woman in a TV drama. I didn’t screenshot it to confront him. I simply stood up calmly, walked to the kitchen, and dumped all the dishes I’d spent the entire afternoon preparing into the trash bin, plates and all. Then I walked into the bedroom and dragged out that black suitcase. I started packing. I didn’t actually own much. Over the years, I’d poured all my money and energy into Zavier’s films. My closet held nothing but a few dirt-resistant athletic outfits and virtually nothing of value. I took those mementos I’d once treasured. The replica of his first award trophy. The cross necklace we’d brought back from the church where we’d prayed together. Those slips of paper with his promises written on them. I threw them one by one into a black trash bag. Finally, I opened a drawer and pulled out that plain ring. He’d bought it for me with his first paycheck during our first year together. Not expensive, but I’d worn it for seven years. It had left a deep groove on my finger. I slipped the ring off and placed it on the nightstand. No nostalgia. No reluctance. When disappointment accumulates enough, leaving becomes instinct. By the time I finished packing, it was two in the morning. The living room was piled with black trash bags, while my suitcase held only a few changes of clothes and some essential medications. I sat on the sofa, quietly listening to the rain outside the window. Three more days. Zavier, you’re free now. And so am I.

Chrissy’s POV At three-thirty in the morning, the electronic lock at the entrance beeped. Zavier walked in, bringing cold air and the scent of alcohol. The living room’s main lights were off, with only a dim floor lamp glowing. His movement paused as he changed shoes, clearly noticing the several large black trash bags in the middle of the living room and me sitting silently on the sofa. “What are you doing up in the middle of the night making a mess?” He loosened his tie, his tone edged with impatience, and walked straight to the bar to pour himself water. As he approached, a heavy scent of rose perfume mixed with red wine wafted over. That was Lexi’s favorite fragrance. I lifted my eyelids and looked at him quietly. “Cleaning out some useless things.” My voice was hoarse, completely flat. Zavier stopped mid-drink. He turned to examine me in the dim light. Perhaps my excessively calm demeanor unsettled him. He put down his glass, walked over to sit beside me, and reached out to put his arm around my shoulders. “The crew had an important investor meeting today. My phone was on silent. I didn’t hear your calls.” He lied smoothly, not even blinking. “Once we get through this busy period and the film wraps, I’ll spend some quality time with you, okay?” I shifted slightly, avoiding his hand. His hand froze in midair. His expression darkened instantly. “Chrissy, what are you throwing a fit about now?” Zavier’s patience seemed exhausted, his voice rising several octaves. “I already told you it was work! Can’t you be reasonable? You weren’t like this before. The film is at the most critical stage. Do you really have to cause trouble for me right now?” I looked at his face, slightly twisted with anger, and suddenly found it laughable. “Work?” I let out a light laugh, looking straight into his eyes. “Going to a revolving restaurant for candlelit dinner, sending red roses. That’s part of work too?” Zavier’s pupils shrank sharply, panic flashing in his eyes before being replaced by anger. “You’re spying on me? You went through Lexi’s Instagram?” He shot to his feet, pointing down at me accusingly. “Chrissy, when did you become so unreasonable? Lexi was upset today. As her director, what’s wrong with comforting my actress? Why do you have to think the worst of everything?” “Think the worst?” I rolled the phrase around in my mouth, my heart desolate. He’d trampled our seven years underfoot, yet turned around to accuse me of being cynical. “Zavier, do you remember what today is?” I didn’t argue with him. I just asked that question calmly. Zavier froze. The anger on his face solidified instantly, replaced by the awkwardness and guilt of being caught. He opened his mouth as if to explain, but ultimately just grabbed at his hair in frustration. “Chrissy, I’m sorry. I genuinely forgot with how busy I’ve been.” He sat back down, trying to take my hand, his tone softening. “You know how important this film is to me. Once the movie wins awards, we’ll get married. Just bear with me a little longer, okay? We went through life and death together. Surely that means more than some meaningless anniversary?” Marriage. For the past seven years, that word had been my greatest hope. But now, coming from his mouth, it sounded like a cheap bargaining chip to cover his betrayal and neglect. He thought that mentioning our “life-and-death bond” would make me forgive him unconditionally, just like I always had. He thought Chrissy could never leave him. I looked at him and suddenly smiled. “Alright.” I pulled my hand back, stood up, and looked down at him. “I understand. I won’t make a scene. Get some rest. You have a big night shoot tomorrow.” Zavier clearly hadn’t expected me to give in so easily. He stared blankly as I walked back to the bedroom and closed the door. The moment the door shut, I heard him let out a long sigh of relief in the living room. He thought he’d placated me. But he didn’t know that when a woman stops arguing with you, stops demanding explanations, that’s when she’s completely given up on you. Two more days.

Chrissy’s POV The last day. The crew was filming the final major scene at an abandoned reservoir in the suburbs. An underwater escape sequence. In the late autumn reservoir, the water temperature was barely above forty degrees Fahrenheit. White vapor drifted across the surface. Just looking at it sent chills through your bones. Lexi stood on the shore wrapped in a thick down jacket, clutching a thermos, still complaining sweetly about the wind. And I stood in the freezing water wearing only a thin white dress, weighted down with lead blocks and wire rigging, my lips purple with cold. “All departments ready! Chrissy, after you go under, hold your breath for thirty seconds. Once we cut to Lexi’s body double, struggle to the surface. Remember, the movements need to look desperate, realistic!” Zavier sat behind the monitors, directing loudly through his walkie-talkie. His eyes stayed glued to the screens. He didn’t even glance at me once. I took a deep breath, nodded, put in my waterproof earpiece, and plunged into the bone-chilling water. The underwater world was silent and oppressive. The icy current instantly stripped away what little warmth I had. My left knee and shoulder, with their old injuries, exploded with tearing pain under the cold stimulus. I clenched my jaw, fighting through the pain, struggling underwater as directed. Ten seconds, twenty seconds, thirty seconds… Time was up. I kicked hard, trying to swim upward. But suddenly the wire rigging around my waist jammed! Abandoned fishing nets underwater had tangled in the wire’s clasps. A massive force yanked me violently back down. I panicked, frantically pulling at the wires, shouting into the earpiece. “Pull me up! The rigging’s stuck! Pull me up!” But what came through the earpiece was Zavier and Lexi’s laughter. “Zavier, look at that cloud. Doesn’t it look like a puppy?” Lexi’s voice was bright and cheerful. “Mm, as cute as you.” Zavier’s voice was full of indulgence. They weren’t even watching the monitors! They’d even cut my main microphone, leaving only the one-way command channel! The oxygen in my lungs depleted rapidly. Freezing water poured into my nose and mouth. The terror of suffocation engulfed me instantly. I looked up at the faint light filtering down from the surface, and what flashed through my mind was every injury I’d suffered, every drop of blood I’d shed over these seven years for Zavier. What a fool I was. I’d nearly thrown away my life for a man like this. Survival instinct triggered my last reserve of strength. I pulled out the tactical knife strapped to my inner thigh. A self-defense tool a friend had just sent me yesterday. With every ounce of strength left, I cut through the fishing net and wire rope tangled around my waist, stroke by stroke. I broke through the surface, gulping the freezing air, coughing violently and spitting up river water streaked with blood. Only then did the people on shore realize something was wrong. “Chrissy! Why did you surface on your own? Where’s the rigging? Do you realize you just ruined that perfect shot!” Zavier grabbed his walkie-talkie and rushed to the shore, shouting at me furiously. He didn’t see my face. Didn’t see the blood at the corner of my mouth. He only cared about his shot. I dragged my heavy body step by step up the shore. Icy water dripped from my hair onto the muddy ground. I walked up to Zavier, looked at his angry face, and suddenly felt incredibly light. I reached up, pulled the waterproof earpiece from my ear, and smashed it on the ground right in front of him. The earpiece shattered with a sharp crack. “Zavier, I quit.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it reached everyone’s ears clearly. Zavier froze, seemingly unable to process what I’d said. “What are you losing it about? We’re almost done. You’re quitting now?” “Yes. I quit.” I looked at him. “Your movie, your leading lady. You can handle them yourself.” With that, I ignored his stunned expression and the shocked stares around us, turned, and walked straight toward a black SUV parked outside the set. The window rolled down, revealing Captain Jack Morrison’s weathered face. “All settled?” Jack asked. “All settled.” I opened the door and got in. I handed Jack my phone. “Standard protocol. Surrendering communication devices.” Jack took the phone, powered it off, and tossed it in the glove compartment. “Heading out. Next stop: Denali Mountain wilderness sector.” The SUV let out a low rumble, kicking up a cloud of dust, leaving behind the man I’d loved for seven years and that unbearable past, completely behind me.

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After catching my husband, Ethan Hayes, cheating, he knelt before me and swore he’d cut all ties with that yoga instructor. But a month later, I saw a strange text on his phone: [I’m sick and so scared alone in the hospital. Can you come see me?] Watching Ethan rush out the door, I called after him mockingly: “In such a hurry? Want me to grab you a box of condoms on your way out?” Ethan froze, then whirled around, glaring at me furiously: “Charlotte, I’ve already come back to this family. Do you have to be so nasty? She’s sick—can’t I just go check on her?” I didn’t try to stop him anymore. After he left, I made a phone call. What Ethan didn’t know was that the yoga instructor’s fiancé was a mob boss who killed without leaving a trace. “Charlotte, when are you going to stop this?” “I already told you—Vivian doesn’t know anyone in this city. She’s got acute gastroenteritis and is getting an IV at the hospital. What’s wrong with me, as a former colleague, bringing her some medicine?” “Former colleague?” I let out a cold laugh. “Need me to refresh your memory about how many sex positions you two unlocked on that yoga mat last month?” Ethan’s face instantly flushed crimson. He jabbed his finger toward my face, his voice dropping to a furious hiss. “I already admitted I was wrong! I even slapped myself in front of your parents!” “This entire month, I’ve come straight home after work every day. I’ve handed over all my bank cards. What more do you want from me?” “Do you have to act like some bitter housewife and turn this home into a hellhole before you’re satisfied?” Looking at his self-righteous expression, I felt nothing but nausea churning in my stomach. A month ago, I’d thrown photos in his face—pictures taken by a private investigator. In those photos, he and that yoga instructor named Vivian were tangled together on a hotel bed. Back then, he’d knelt on the floor, crying and begging, swearing he’d just had a momentary lapse in judgment, pleading for one more chance. In front of both sets of parents, he’d slapped himself three sharp, ringing times across the face. He changed all his bank card passwords to my birthday. He even voluntarily canceled his membership at the gym where Vivian worked. I thought he’d truly realized his mistake. I was naive enough to think that if I just swallowed this bitter pill, our marriage could be patched up and continue. But I was wrong. A dog returns to its vomit, and a cheating man never learns loyalty. I watched him rage coldly, then turned and walked to the sofa, pulling a tablet from beneath a throw pillow. “Ethan, you put on quite the performance.” “Coming home on time every day, even letting me check your phone whenever I want—what a reformed man you are.” I lit up the screen and hurled the tablet into his arms. “So explain this to me.” Ethan fumbled to catch the tablet, glancing down at the screen. Just one look, and all the color drained from his face.

The screen displayed the synced backend data from that latest-model smartwatch on his wrist. He’d bought that watch last month, claiming it was to monitor his sleep quality. But this afternoon, I’d discovered that the watch’s health app was secretly linked to another person’s account. The account’s profile picture was a selfie of Vivian in tight yoga clothes. “Every night at eleven o’clock, your heart rate spikes to 120 beats per minute.” I stared into his evasive eyes, tearing away his mask. “Ethan, you’ve been carrying on with her this whole time!” Ethan’s lips trembled. He instinctively hid his hand behind his back, trying to conceal the watch. “You’re making things up! I go running at eleven at night!” I cut him off: “Stop lying! You even logged her menstrual cycle!” I held his tablet in front of him. After a brief silence, the panic in his eyes rapidly transformed into humiliated rage. “You’ve been spying on me?” He violently threw the tablet onto the sofa, glaring at me through clenched teeth. “Charlotte, you’re a psycho! Checking my phone every day, checking my watch—are you sick!? You’re disgusting!” I took a deep breath, suppressing the tearing pain in my chest. “If being with me disgusts you so much, then get out right now and go to the hospital to see Vivian.” Ethan grabbed the car keys from the living room and yanked open the door without looking back. “Fine, Charlotte. Don’t regret this!” I replied: “My only regret is being blind enough not to see what garbage you are.” “You think I want to come back to this cold, dead home?” Ethan stood in the doorway, one foot across the threshold, then turned back and looked me up and down with utterly contemptuous eyes. “Charlotte, look at yourself—this hysterical mess you’ve become. Your hair’s a wreck, you don’t even wear makeup, all you do is obsess over every little thing I do.” “Now look at Vivian—even when she’s sick, she’s gentler and more beautiful than you!” So he finally said what he really thought. I stood quietly in the center of the living room, watching this man I’d loved for seven years, feeling the blood in my veins turn to ice. So in his eyes, the exhaustion I’d suffered staying up late caring for this household had become his reason to despise me. I didn’t speak. Instead, I turned and walked to the TV cabinet, pulling open the bottom drawer. I took out a crumpled hospital payment receipt and a printout of an insurance policy. I walked to the door and threw both documents directly in his face. “Ethan, if you think she’s so wonderful, why did you marry me in the first place?” “You keep saying how pitiful she is—then what about this critical illness insurance policy worth three hundred thousand dollars?” Ethan looked down at the papers scattered on the floor, his pupils contracting sharply. That was an insurance policy he’d secretly bought for Vivian three months ago, with her mother listed as the beneficiary. And the premium had been transferred from our joint savings account—money we’d been setting aside for a new house. “You… you went through my study?” he shouted, livid. I looked at him coldly: “Ethan, have you forgotten how I nearly died on the operating table just one year ago?”

This time last year, I’d suffered an ectopic pregnancy and hemorrhaged, rushed to the hospital by ambulance. The doctor needed a family member to sign consent forms. I dialed Ethan’s number over and over again. But the voice on the other end was always: [Sorry, the number you are calling is currently unavailable.] I almost died on that operating table. How did he explain it afterward? He said he’d been playing golf with a very important client, and his phone was in a locker in the changing room where he couldn’t hear it. He held my hand at my hospital bedside, crying harder than I was, swearing he’d make it up to me twice over. I believed him. I dragged my weakened body through those most difficult days. But it wasn’t until last month, when I checked his phone, that I discovered the truth. That day, he hadn’t been with any important client at all. He’d been at a hot spring resort in the next city over, celebrating Vivian’s twenty-fourth birthday. He’d posted something on his social media, visible only to Vivian: [May my girl always smile like a flower.] Meanwhile, his wife had been lying in a pool of her own blood, signing her own critical condition notice. “And now you’re telling me she’s pitiful?” I stepped closer, staring into his eyes. “She bought insurance with my money, booked hotel rooms with my money—where exactly is she pitiful?” “The truly pitiful one was my child who never even formed before dying!” “The truly pitiful one is me—the fool you’ve been playing for a fool!” Ethan backed up a step under my advance. But there wasn’t a trace of guilt on his face—only extreme irritation at being exposed. “Charlotte, can you stop bringing up old history!” He yanked at his tie in frustration, his tone dripping with cold rationality. “The doctor said the ectopic pregnancy was because of your poor health—it was a matter of probability!” “You insist on blaming Vivian for this. Do you think that’s fair?” “Besides, I didn’t know you were in trouble. If I’d known, wouldn’t I have come back?” My breath caught. Poor health. A matter of probability. With one casual sentence, he’d erased all his cold-bloodedness and betrayal. He’d even shifted the blame onto me. I looked at his face, twisted with anger, and suddenly felt he was a complete stranger. Was this the same boy who, back in college, would run two kilometers through the snow just to buy me a cup of hot milk tea? No. He wasn’t. The moment he climbed into Vivian’s bed, that Ethan had died. The thing standing before me now was just a selfish monster who’d lost every last shred of humanity. “Ethan, you make me sick.” I spat out each word, looking at him like he was trash. My gaze stung him. He raised his hand as if to strike me, but ultimately stopped mid-air. “Fine, Charlotte. You’re so noble, so great.” He ground his teeth, pointing at me viciously. “Since you can’t tolerate her, I’m going to the hospital right now to bring her back here.” “Let’s see what you’re actually going to do to me!” Just then, his phone in his pocket suddenly buzzed frantically. The custom ringtone sounded particularly grating in the dead silence of the hallway. Ethan pulled out his phone, glanced at the screen, and his previously violent expression instantly softened. He answered the call, deliberately gentling his voice. “Hey, Vivian, don’t be scared. I’ll be right there…” From the other end came a saccharine, obviously tearful female voice. “Ethan, don’t worry about me. I don’t care if I die of pain in this hospital.” “Go back and make things right with Charlotte. Please don’t let me damage your marriage…” I let out a cold laugh. “Playing innocent? I’ve seen how wild you get on top of my husband!” “Charlotte! Watch your mouth!” Ethan reacted like a dog whose tail had been stepped on, covering the phone’s microphone and roaring at me. I completely ignored his impotent rage, stepped forward, and before he could react, snatched his phone away. Too fast for him to stop. I hit the speakerphone button and turned the volume to maximum. Vivian’s sobbing echoed clearly through the living room. “Charlotte… is that really you?” Her voice was so fragile it seemed a breeze could knock her over, with just the right amount of grievance and panic. “Please don’t be angry at Ethan. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have bothered him after work hours.” “But I’m alone at the hospital getting an IV, and the needle infiltrated—my hand is so swollen. I’m really scared…” “I just wanted someone to talk to. I really didn’t mean anything else. Please believe me, okay?” Listen to that! How clever! Every sentence an apology, every sentence a declaration of war against me. She was telling me: See? Your husband’s heart is with me. I just crook my finger and he abandons you to come running. Ethan hopped around anxiously beside me, reaching to grab the phone back. “Charlotte, give me back my phone! Didn’t you hear her hand is swollen!” I dodged his hand and spoke coldly into the microphone. “If your hand’s swollen, call a nurse. Why are you looking for my husband? Can he remove your IV or suck out the swelling?” “Didn’t you keep saying you don’t want to wreck my family?” “So why are you sending ambiguous texts in the middle of the night? Are your fingers not controlled by your brain, or do you just naturally enjoy digging through other people’s garbage for your meals?” The crying on the other end suddenly stopped. Vivian clearly hadn’t expected me to tear off the facade so directly. In the past, to preserve Ethan’s dignity, I’d always tried to maintain appearances. But now? I didn’t want this man anymore. Why should I save face for her? “Charlotte, how can you say that about me…” Vivian’s voice carried obvious embarrassment and anger. “Ethan and I just have a spiritual connection. We never meant to hurt you.” “Love doesn’t follow a first-come-first-served rule. The one who isn’t loved is the real third party. Why can’t you understand that?” I almost laughed at her twisted logic. “Spiritual connection? Was that on the hotel bed or on the yoga mat?” “Vivian, do you think being a homewrecker is something to be proud of?” “Believe me or not, tomorrow I’ll post videos of all your ‘connections’ to your yoga studio’s client group and let everyone see how pure you really are.”

“Don’t you dare!” Ethan finally exploded completely. He lunged forward and grabbed my wrist in a crushing grip. The force was enough to nearly break my bones. “Charlotte, have you lost your mind! Do you have to destroy everything before you’re happy!” His eyes were bloodshot, glaring at me while his other hand pried at my fingers, trying to wrestle the phone away. Pain shot through my wrist, but I refused to let go of the phone. “I’m destroying everything?” I gritted my teeth, meeting his murderous gaze, fighting back word by word. “Ethan, you two are the ones who’ve gone too far!” “If you dare walk out that door to see her today, I’ll make sure you both end up destroyed and disgraced!” Vivian’s terrified scream came through the phone. “Ethan! Don’t hit her! Come back, I’m scared…” She was still pouring fuel on the fire. Hearing Vivian’s crying, Ethan’s last thread of rationality snapped. With a violent yank, he ripped the phone from my hand. The momentum threw me backward. I stumbled and my lower back slammed hard into the edge of the marble table. A dull thud. Searing pain exploded from my back and spread through my entire body. My vision went black and cold sweat instantly soaked my clothes. I slid down along the coffee table onto the floor, the pain so intense I couldn’t speak. Ethan clutched the phone, looking down at me from above. There wasn’t a trace of concern in his eyes—only extreme coldness and disgust. “Charlotte, you’re an unreasonable lunatic.” He straightened his disheveled collar, his tone as cold as if he were looking at a corpse. “If you want to throw a fit, do it by yourself. I don’t have time to waste on you.” With that, he murmured soothingly into the phone, “Vivian, don’t be scared, I’ll be right there,” then turned and walked out without hesitation. “Bang!” The security door slammed shut with such force that the calendar on the wall fell to the floor. The living room fell completely silent. Only the clock on the wall continued its relentless ticking. I curled up on the cold floor, clutching my aching back, tears finally streaming down uncontrollably. This was the man I’d loved with everything I had for seven years. For a lying mistress, he’d actually laid hands on me. I closed my eyes, countless images flashing through my mind. There was his silhouette cooking noodles for me in our rental apartment when we first married. There was his laughing face as he spun me around when I got promoted. But in the end, all those images froze on his cold, disgusted eyes from just moments ago. I wiped the tears from my eyes and slowly stood up, using the coffee table for support. The pain in my back kept reminding me of what had just happened. But the fire in my heart had completely extinguished. In its place was endless ice and resolve. I walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and watched that familiar black sedan speed away below, disappearing into the night. Ethan, did you think you won? Did you think you could enjoy my devotion while playing around on the side? I picked up my phone from the sofa and dialed a number hidden at the very bottom of my contacts. “Hello, is this Drake?” A rough, irritable male voice came through. “Who the hell is this? Calling in the middle of the night—you got a death wish?” I looked out at the pitch-black night sky, a cold smile curving my lips. “I’m Ethan Hayes’s wife. Drake, your fiancée Vivian is sick and needs someone to take care of her.” “If you don’t get there soon, she’s going to die in my husband’s bed.”

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I was scavenging for leftovers in a dumpster when my wife, who’d been dead for three years, appeared. She stepped out of a Rolls-Royce and looked down at me. “Marcus Brown, you’ve passed my test after all.” I stared at her blankly, clutching a piece of moldy bread. Turns out, three years ago at a class reunion, her ex-boyfriend—the one she’d dated before me—had proposed a test: “I want to see if what you two have is true love. “Fake your death right now. Cut off all his cards. Take back the house too. “If he’s still single for you three years later, you pass. Do you dare?” She’d laughed then: “Why wouldn’t I dare? “Marcus loves me to death. Forget three years—even thirty years, he’d stay faithful to me.” Now, she turned back to smirk at her first love in the passenger seat: “What did I tell you?” The bread crumbled in my grip. Vivian White looked at me. “Alright, I’m here to take you and my son Oliver home. “Where’s Oliver?” “Dead.” I raised my eyes. “Three years ago, when none of the cards worked, there was no money for his surgery. He died.”

Vivian froze. She started looking around the dump. Nothing but endless stench and me, clutching moldy bread. She knew I loved our son to the bone. I’d take Oliver everywhere, no matter what I was doing. But now, Oliver wasn’t by my side. “You’re joking.” There was a flash of panic when Vivian spoke. “I’m serious. I’m here to take you both home.” “Home?” I looked up with red eyes. “Three years ago when you faked your death, they said you owed a huge debt and mortgaged our house. “Oliver and I became homeless. We’ve been wandering for so long. What home is there?” She hesitated for a long moment before speaking: “That… that was just to test you. Don’t worry, the house has always been in my hands. Come on~ Tell Oliver to stop playing hide and seek. Let him come out, I’ll apologize to him.” “Then go!” I threw the death certificate at her. “Go down there and apologize to Oliver!” When the certificate landed in her hands, her hand trembled. “Oliver…” She stared at the conclusion of “acute cardiac death,” her eyes instantly reddening: “I was only gone three years. How could Oliver be gone! “You’re lying to me, aren’t you?” Vivian grabbed my shoulders. “I know I was wrong. Don’t put on this act to punish me. Bring Oliver out!” I just looked at her. Contempt curled at my lips. The hand gripping me trembled. Vivian looked at me, tears falling. “Vivian, can’t you see such an obvious scam?” Ryan Hayes picked up the death certificate: “Look, isn’t this just like the fake one I made for you three years ago?” He pointed to the stamp: “It’s not even as good as the one I forged for you. “Here, hospitals don’t stamp it this way.” He sneered at me. “Mr. Brown, we’ve both been through this once before. You think we’ll believe you with something like this?” Only then did Vivian snap back to reality. Ryan continued pointing things out to her: “Look, the signature section—can’t you see how stiff it is? And this certificate, it’s obviously been artificially aged. “Don’t you remember the process from three years ago? Mr. Brown is quite experienced, actually. He even predicted you’d come back for him today and waited for you in the garbage dump dressed all shabby.” “You’re lying!” My eyes reddened. Vivian just frowned. After examining the death certificate several times, she looked at me with contempt. “I almost fell for it.” The death certificate hit my body as she said coldly: “Looks like Ryan was right. You’re much more calculating than you appear.” “You!” “Get Oliver back home by the end of today. He’s only six. He can’t learn bad habits from a father like you.” She turned to leave. I quickly stood up, trying to stop her. But Ryan positioned himself between us. “Mr. Brown…” He spoke in a voice only we could hear, venomously: “I know Oliver died a long time ago.”

I looked at him in disbelief. “Know why Vivian doesn’t know?” He chuckled softly. “Because I blocked all information about Oliver from reaching her.” My fists clenched tight. “Speaking of which, Oliver was really pitiful. “His mother had just died, and then he was diagnosed with congenital heart disease. “There was a matching heart for him, but his father couldn’t come up with a single penny. Working four jobs a day, going without sleep—still couldn’t gather enough for the surgery. “Made little Oliver miss his chance for a heart transplant.” My eyes instantly reddened. “But don’t worry.” Ryan adjusted his custom-tailored cuffs. “He didn’t die in vain. His bone marrow, kidneys, corneas…” My breathing hitched. He laughed softly: “Ah… such a pity you didn’t see it. When the child was forced to sign the donor consent form, he kept crying for daddy. “And you, his father, were still out there delivering food… Ahh!!” “You goddamn bastard!!” I gripped his throat tightly. “Give me back my son!!” “Enough!” A slap struck my face hard. I hadn’t eaten in three days. The blow sent me sprawling into the garbage heap. Vivian shielded Ryan protectively behind her. Ryan said pitifully: “I just asked where Oliver was hiding. Mr. Brown, you can stand living in a dump, but the child can’t bear this suffering! “Just because I wanted to take Oliver away, you tried to kill me?!” “You’re lying! You clearly…” “Enough!” Vivian clenched her teeth. “If you have any conscience as a father, bring Oliver back yourself. “Otherwise, we’re getting divorced!” She let Ryan into the passenger seat. Divorce? I laughed. Fine. But before that, I had one more thing to do. The next day, a whistleblower letter landed on Vivian’s boss’s desk. At the same time, a banner appeared at the company entrance: [Tech Rising Star Vivian White Caused Son’s Death for Ex-Boyfriend] in large letters attracted many onlookers. And I knelt at her company entrance, holding Oliver’s photo. Not saying a word. I had printed what she and Ryan did into pamphlets and distributed them on site. Some people actually teared up reading them: “Is that a child in the photo? Still so small. How could Ms. White just abandon this father and son and fake her death for three years!” “Faking death is one thing, but why go to such extremes! Not only cutting off all the money, but also pretending to mortgage the house. Was this really to test her husband, or did she want to drive him to death so her ex could take his place!” “The company must give an explanation! If this is true, does such a person deserve that position!” Soon, the company leadership personally came downstairs to bring me up. Vivian stood at her office door, her expression unreadable as she watched me. The door closed, and the leader personally poured me tea: “Mr. Brown, please forgive Vivian and Ryan.” My hand gripping the cup stiffened. “They did this and you want me to forgive them?” “Yes, I know Vivian went a bit too far, and Ryan was foolish. “But Vivian is the company’s pillar. So many projects only recognize her name. “You should consider the company’s position too, right?” I couldn’t speak. The leader smiled at me. “How about this—I’ll give Vivian and Ryan an official warning. And for you, I can provide compensation. “I’m sorry about the child, but you and Vivian can have another one. You’re husband and wife, after all. “With Vivian’s successful career, you’ll only benefit more.” I laughed bitterly in anger. “Fine, protect her. But why do you need to protect Ryan Hayes too!” The leader was silent for a moment: “Don’t you know? Ryan was recommended by her with a personal guarantee.”

For a moment, I nearly dropped my cup. This tech company—I’d submitted my resume three times. But each time it sank without a trace for unknown reasons. I’d begged Vivian to help me get an interview with the leadership. Not to get me directly into the company, just an interview. I knew that with her weight, she could give me this opportunity without even asking the leadership. But she said she needed to avoid conflicts of interest. Didn’t want to make things difficult for herself. So I needed to avoid conflicts of interest. But Ryan could be directly recommended for a position. My knuckles turned white gripping the cup as I stared at her: “What if I don’t accept?” The leader smiled too. “I still advise Mr. Brown not to fight the company.” Not long after leaving the company, many discussions about me appeared online. [Mentally Disturbed Husband Uses Son’s Death to Extort Wife] [Tech Rising Star Vivian White’s Family Misfortune] [Husband Suspects Wife of Affair with Male Colleague? Is Son’s Death the Husband’s Tool for Revenge Against Wife?] In an instant, the public who had pitied me turned their guns around. The comment sections were full of praise for Vivian and Ryan. [Had the fortune to work with Ms. White. She’s truly wonderful, her professional ability is impeccable, and she maintains appropriate boundaries with male colleagues] [I don’t know what there is to complain about being Ms. White’s husband.] [Did Marcus Brown himself have someone on the side?] [I met Mr. Hayes offline once. He’s really great, very respectful to women. Excellent people really do attract jealous haters] With such high engagement, I knew Vivian was behind the manipulation. I returned to the home I hadn’t been to in three years. Smiling bitterly as I stroked the photo on Oliver’s urn. “I’m sorry. Daddy failed to protect you.” A divorce agreement landed on the table. Just as I was about to take Oliver and leave, the door was kicked open. Vivian led Ryan, whose head was bandaged, striding in: “Where’s Oliver?” I wiped the tears from my eyes. “What are you doing?” “What am I doing?” Vivian sneered. “Ryan was injured, and you had Oliver do it, didn’t you!” “Vivian!” I clenched my fists. “What are you talking about!” Ryan gritted his teeth: “Mr. Brown, why hide it? When that child hit me with a hammer, I saw clearly it was him. “He even said he wanted revenge for you. “If Vivian hadn’t arrived in time, caught off guard like that, I might have really been killed by that child!” I gritted my teeth. Vivian looked at me coldly: “I knew Oliver would learn to lie with a father like you! “If I’d known it would be like this, I should have taken Oliver with me three years ago! “Where is he! I’m taking him to raise myself! Ryan and I will teach this child together! Better than you ruining him for life!” “Fine!” I brought out the urn, looking at them with burning eyes: “Then you’d better go down there and teach him properly!”

Looking at the portrait on the urn, Vivian stared at me in disbelief. My hands trembled slightly as I clenched my fists. A year ago, when Oliver died, I’d used all my savings to make this final little home for him. But the next second, this little home was shattered. I roared and lunged forward: “Oliver!” “Have you made enough of a scene!” Vivian grabbed my collar. “How many times are you going to play this trick?” She grabbed the ashes. “Bamboo charcoal powder mixed with bone models—you really think I can’t tell! I played this trick three years ago! “Do you enjoy cursing Oliver this much?” “Mmph!” The ashes were forcibly shoved into my mouth. I retched violently. “Eat it! Aren’t these your own props? Why are you disgusted!” Vivian’s eyes were red as she firmly blocked my mouth. Until my face flushed red and I pushed her away. Kneeling on the ground, I coughed continuously. My trembling hands gathered the ashes bit by bit from the floor. Tears mixed with the blood from my throat, soiling Oliver’s remains. I collapsed on the scattered ashes, crying breathlessly. Vivian looked down from above. “Think about it—when Oliver grows up and remembers you faked his death and his ashes just to compete for jealousy… “What will he think? “He’ll hate you to death.” I was too wretched to speak. She half-knelt down. “So, where’s Oliver? If you have any conscience as a father, temporarily let me educate him.” My eyes reddened. I smiled at her. “Alright, I’ll take you to find him.” Ryan froze. Vivian also paused slightly, reaching out to grip my hand. “I knew you’d come around.” The car drove to a cliff’s edge. Vivian saw the small figure on the cliff. Her face lit up. “Oliver!” Just as she got out of the car, Ryan’s trembling voice came from behind: “Vivian…” She turned back. My knife was already at Ryan’s throat. … Police forces quickly gathered at the cliff’s edge. I held the knife to Ryan’s throat, standing at the cliff’s edge with Oliver. Cold sweat dripped from Vivian’s temples. “Marcus, I won’t take Oliver anymore. I won’t fight you for him. “Let Ryan go. Do you want Oliver’s father to become a murderer? Can you bear to let Oliver watch you kill someone!” All the live stream cameras focused on me. The police negotiator was also persuading me along with Vivian. I felt Ryan trembling in my arm. I looked down. Glanced at Oliver wearing a hat. He also looked up and met my eyes. Ryan’s body trembled even more violently. I smiled: “No, Oliver will become my best successor.” Then, ignoring Vivian’s pale face, I gave the order directly: “Oliver! Push this man down with Daddy!” “Marcus Brown!!” “Ma’am!” The police cried out. Vivian actually snatched the gun from the police. Aimed it straight at me. “Bang!” The bullet exploded into a blood flower on my chest. I swayed. Released my grip on Ryan. Before falling off the cliff, I turned back and showed Vivian a smile. Then fell straight down. Vivian stood frozen in place. In front of the live cameras, Oliver removed the hat. It was a girl. “Congratulations, Ms. White. Now you’ve killed your husband with your own hands too.” The police frowned at Vivian: “What this child said—what’s going on?”

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After my four-year-old son died from illness, Ethan Ford, who had been on a business trip to Europe, finally came home. At the funeral, he tried to console me: “Don’t worry, I won’t blame you. If you want a child, I’ll bring one home tomorrow.” My whole body stiffened. I looked up at him in disbelief. “What are you talking about?” He said nonchalantly: “I have a child with another woman. He’s only six months younger than Tommy. If you don’t mind, we can bring him home and you can raise him as your own.” “Besides, the kid’s mom is too young—she’s like a child herself, always playing around. I’d feel better if you took care of him.” My nails dug deep into my palms, my voice trembling: “Who is this woman?” He smiled. “She’s a nurse from the maternity ward. When I took you to the hospital to give birth, she fell for me at first sight. We slept together in the room next to the operating room. I know I wronged you, but she was young and sexy. She came onto me first, and I couldn’t resist.” “Slap—” Before I knew what I was doing, a bright red handprint appeared on his face. Ethan covered his swollen cheek and ran his tongue over his teeth. “Is that really necessary? I only told you this because I thought you were too upset. If slapping me once makes you feel better, go ahead.” With that, he turned his head, offering me his other cheek. “Go on, hit me. Why’d you stop?” All my anger evaporated in that moment, leaving only helplessness to drown me. My voice was hoarse as I stared at him, tears streaming down my face. He sighed impatiently and said: “Men cheating is pretty normal, isn’t it? How many men spend their whole lives devoted to one woman?” “Besides, I didn’t even bring her home. You’ve lived comfortably as a rich man’s wife all these years. Isn’t that enough?” As soon as he finished speaking, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, blowing smoke in my face. I suppressed my emotions and asked in a trembling voice: “Then why are you telling me now? Why tell me the truth right after my son just died! You’ve been lying to me for five years—why couldn’t you just keep lying forever!” Tears pooled in my eyes. I tilted my head back slightly, refusing to show weakness. Ethan raised an eyebrow and suddenly laughed mockingly. “Like I said, she’s too young to take care of a kid. Now that the child’s older, he needs education and parental guidance.” “Besides, your son just died. You can’t handle this blow. If I bring a child home to keep you company, it’ll help you move past your grief.” He crossed his arms over his chest and added carelessly: “Two birds with one stone. Don’t you think?” Before I could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his expression instantly softened. He patiently typed out a reply. Perhaps now that the truth was out, he didn’t bother hiding anymore. I glanced sideways and saw the chat name: “My Only Treasure.” I stared at that profile picture for a long time. The same picture existed in my own chat list. During my third trimester checkup, a nurse named Melody Smith said I reminded her of her sister. Her sister had died from complications during childbirth, and Melody had lost her last family member. Out of sympathy, I added her on SnapChat.

She said I could message her anytime if I felt unwell. But I was afraid of bothering her, so I never sent a single message. All the details connected in this moment. My seven-year marriage was a joke. In my ears, I could hear Melody’s sweet, flirtatious laughter: “You’re so mean! Don’t call me dumb. If I hadn’t been trying to cook for you, I wouldn’t have burned my hand. Instead of feeling sorry for me, you’re going to ‘punish’ me by not letting me use my hands tonight? If you keep this up, I’m going to get mad!” Ethan wanted to smile, but when he caught sight of me still standing nearby, his expression quickly turned cold. “I have some things to handle at the office. I’m leaving. Deal with your son’s funeral yourself and go home when you’re done.” The guests had long since noticed the tension between us and were now waiting to watch the drama unfold. Ignoring my own dignity, I shouted at his retreating back: “If you walk out that door, we’re getting divorced!” Ethan stopped in his tracks. Seeing everyone’s eyes on him, his face darkened. “Shut up!” “If you’re not embarrassed, I am!” “If you have something to say, say it at home. Don’t make a scene here!” I laughed like a madwoman, grabbing his collar and pointing at our son’s portrait. “Our son just died, and you can’t wait to run off to your mistress and your bastard child. You’re embarrassed? What right do you have to be embarrassed!” “For seven years, you said you were busy with work, that you needed to develop business overseas. I handled everything at home alone—I was both father and mother. I could only sleep four hours a night.” “When our son had his accident, I was doing housework. I looked away for one second and he ran outside and got hit by a car. Where were you then? Talk at home? When have you ever been home!” Tears I could no longer hold back poured down my face. But Ethan just frowned. “Are you done? I’m leaving.” He turned and walked away with long strides, never looking back. The guests swarmed around me, offering hollow comfort: “That’s enough. Men are all like this. Every family has problems. Mr. Ford has such a big business—it’s inevitable women throw themselves at him. Just be patient and it’ll pass.” “Exactly. My husband doesn’t even have money and he still chats with women. Now I just turn a blind eye. Life goes on.” They spoke words of comfort, but each one was a needle stabbing into my heart. I wasn’t made of wood—of course I’d felt Ethan’s change. In our seven-year marriage, I’d imagined countless times how our relationship might end. But I never imagined it would cost me my son’s life. I didn’t want to be laughed at anymore. I hastily ended the funeral and went home. As soon as I walked through the door, I collapsed on the floor, drained of all strength. With trembling hands, I opened Melody’s social media feed. Only now did I realize every post had a hidden meaning. During my last prenatal checkup, she’d posted a photo of a positive pregnancy test. Caption: “He says this is a surprise from heaven. The baby and I are the most important people in his life.” When I was in postpartum confinement, Ethan said he had to go on a business trip. And during that month, Melody updated her feed almost daily. “He says I’m more important. He doesn’t know that to me, he’s the most important person in the world.” “When true love comes, heaven gives you a sign. This time, I heard it.” “Thank you for leaving everything behind to be with me. I hope you’ll be with me for the rest of my life.” … I tortured myself by reading through them one by one. Many photos included Ethan’s silhouette in the background. Back then, I never paid attention—I just assumed Melody was dating some secret boyfriend. Looking at them now, I realized how ridiculous I’d been.

The day our son died in a car accident, Melody was at a five-star hotel hot spring. In the photo, she wore a sexy bikini that barely covered her body. In the corner of the photo was a man’s hand holding a wine glass. Caption: “Thanks to my CEO for personally serving me. I’ll definitely reward him well tonight!” The blood drained from my face. Like a madwoman, I bombarded Melody with messages. “Where are you? I need to see you.” She replied instantly: “What’s wrong, Evelyn? Why the sudden need to see me? My husband’s all over me right now, so I can’t get away.” She sent a candid photo. Ethan had his head buried in her chest, surrounded by countless red marks. My heart went ice cold. After a long moment, I typed out a message. “This coffee shop. I’ll wait for you until you show up.” I stared at the coffee in front of me, the ice long melted, for three hours. Melody finally appeared. Wearing a sexy slip dress that deliberately exposed the marks covering her neck and chest. As soon as she sat down, she greeted me with a coquettish laugh. “Sorry I’m late, Evelyn.” “Oh my, I was in such a rush leaving the house, I forgot to cover these up. But you’re married too, so you understand, right?” I forced myself to smile. “Looks like things are good between you and your husband? Still so sweet after marriage—that’s rare.” Her cheeks flushed to her ears, but her voice rose several notches. “My husband’s been obsessed with me for five years and still isn’t tired of me. Honestly, he’s getting annoying. I only managed to slip out by saying I needed to buy something. I don’t have much time, so just say what you need to say.” Rage slowly consumed my rationality. I picked up my coffee and threw it directly in her face. Melody screamed and jumped to her feet. “Evelyn Wright, are you insane! Why’d you throw that at me!” “You slept with my husband and destroyed my family, and you have the nerve to show your face in front of me? Throwing coffee is getting off easy!” I shouted with every ounce of strength I had. Everyone in the coffee shop turned to stare at Melody, pointing and whispering. Her expression of anger froze on her face. In an instant, it transformed into a pitiful look. “Evelyn, what are you saying? My husband is married?” “I didn’t know. I really didn’t know. If I’d known he was married, I never would have gotten together with him! I was deceived too!” “I even had his child… How could this happen? My whole life is ruined!” With that, she covered her face and ran out crying. Before I could react, the crowd’s judgment rained down on me. The same people who’d sympathized with me moments ago quickly changed their tune. “The poor girl didn’t even know your husband was running around. Why are you being so aggressive?” “Exactly. She even had his child. Her whole life is ruined. The girl’s a victim too.” “Can’t control your own man, so you come here to bully a young girl. No wonder your husband doesn’t like you!” I wanted to explain that wasn’t how it happened. But no one believed me. Security threw me out on the spot. Someone had filmed my confrontation with Melody and posted it online. The video went viral. The comments were filled with insults. I, the actual victim, became the target of everyone’s hatred. I wandered the streets like a lost soul, not knowing where to go or what to do. I thought today’s meeting would make Melody back off, would make Ethan return to his family.

But I was wrong. Terribly wrong. A woman willing to be a mistress would never be that simple. After walking for who knows how long, a black Maybach suddenly stopped in front of me. Ethan rushed out of the car and slapped me without a word. “You have the nerve to be out shopping? Do you know you almost killed Melody!” My face pale, I looked up at him in confusion. His chest heaved violently with anger. “Because you went to see Melody this afternoon, people called her a homewrecker and she went to a bar to drink. She ended up getting raped!” “She smashed a bottle and tried to kill herself by cutting her wrists. She just got out of surgery and isn’t out of danger yet!” “Evelyn Wright, when did you become so vicious? The affair was my doing. If you’re angry, take it out on me. Why hurt Melody? She’s innocent!” Tears blurred my vision. The man standing before me, calling me vicious, could no longer overlap with the young man who once knelt to propose, swearing he’d protect me forever. I bit through my lip, eyes red as I screamed: “She’s innocent? What about my child? Wasn’t he innocent?” “You cheated and left me to care for our child alone. My son was only five years old. Why should he pay the price for your affair!” My heartfelt words only earned me another, harder slap. I lost my balance and fell down the steps. My ankle swelled immediately, the bone likely broken. Ethan gave the bodyguards a cold order, not even sparing me a glance: “Take Mrs. Ford to the hospital and make her kneel. When Melody is out of danger, she can get up!” In the hospital corridor, two bodyguards forced me to my knees. Both sides of my face were swollen, but I couldn’t even feel the pain. Five hours passed before Melody finally opened her eyes. Ethan walked past me and comforted her with gentle concern. In seven years of marriage, I’d never seen him like this. My heart ached to numbness, as if being twisted by a dull knife. The two talked about something, and Melody covered her face, crying uncontrollably. Ethan took her phone, looked at it, and became so angry he smashed it on the spot. The screen shattered into pieces. He strode toward me, grabbed my collar, and dragged me in front of Melody. “Evelyn Wright, did you release that video? Did you hire those trolls?” “Won’t you be satisfied until Melody’s dead! She just woke up and even agreed to let you raise her child, but you still won’t leave her alone!” The phone with its spider-webbed screen was playing a video. In the footage, Melody lay unconscious from alcohol while several men stood over her, violently tearing at her clothes. At the critical moment, the camera was covered by someone’s clothing. But sickening sounds could be heard. Melody’s face went white. She broke down crying: “Don’t stop me. Just let me die!” “Everyone online is saying I deserved it for breaking up someone’s family. This is my punishment!” “Give the child to Evelyn to raise. Don’t let him know what kind of shameful person his mother is!” With that, Melody yanked out her IV needle and raised her hand to stab it into her neck. Ethan reacted quickly, reaching out to block it. The needle pierced straight through his hand. His cold gaze locked onto me like a demon from hell. “Evelyn Wright, are you satisfied now?” “Someone take Mrs. Ford out of here!” I struggled desperately: “Let me go! Where are you taking me? It wasn’t me—I didn’t do anything!”

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In the third month after I married Sebastian, I slit my wrists. When my soul floated in the air, I thought I would see him weeping bitterly, holding my corpse and kneeling before my grave day and night in repentance. But none of that happened. Sebastian looked at my body and said, “Disgusting.” He had no regrets, no sadness. Instead, my death gave his non-blood-related adopted sister Melissa a position—she leapt to become Mrs. Whitmore. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn, back to the day of my suicide. Why should I kill myself? The one who deserved to die was never me. I dropped the knife and walked out of the room. Before Sebastian moved Melissa into our marital bedroom, I signed my name on the divorce papers. When I felt the pain, I realized I had been reborn. The memories before my death kept flashing through my mind. I had tried to kill myself entirely because half an hour earlier, I had received a message from Melissa. A photo—her on top, Sebastian below, in an extremely intimate position, and in the car no less, that narrow and quiet space. I was furious. I frantically called Sebastian. He didn’t answer. When I called several more times in succession, he hung up directly. Everyone in the capital knew that I loved Sebastian like my life depended on it, that I couldn’t live without him. I even earned the nickname “yandere beauty Charlotte.” At that moment, the thought of Sebastian doing those things with another woman drove me truly insane. I quickly created a SnapChat group, pulled in all our mutual friends, and declared I was going to kill myself. Everyone in the group urged me to calm down. Only Sebastian sent a cold message: “Whatever.” I desperately wanted to extract even a tiny bit of love from Sebastian, so I actually live-streamed slitting my wrists. In the video, all our friends were shocked. Sebastian finally reacted. He cursed me under his breath, calling me a psycho, and rushed back. He finally came back from that other woman’s side. How wonderful. He could only be mine and mine alone. But I had cut too deep. I really died. Floating in the air, I was desperate to see Sebastian awaken to his love for me, to see if he would hold my corpse in agony. But he did nothing and had me cremated. A month later, he even married Melissa, who seized my position as the rightful Mrs. Whitmore. This suicide made me understand: loving myself is better than loving a man. Sebastian, I’m done loving you. The text message from Melissa was still on my phone. I wasn’t polite in my reply. “Sebastian likes passive, delicate girls. He doesn’t like slutty ones like you.” She went silent. I walked out of the bathroom and threw everything I had prepared for suicide into the trash. Following Sebastian around for ten years, constantly begging him for that tiny bit of love, only to trap myself for the rest of my life—it really wasn’t worth it. I sent Sebastian a text message. “The divorce papers only need your signature.”

Sebastian came back quickly. His first words were: “Not dead yet? Changed tactics—now you want a divorce?” Two sarcastic jabs, but he was stating facts. In my previous life, I was able to marry Sebastian entirely because of a business partnership between our families. At the time, the Whitmore family was on the verge of bankruptcy, their business set back decades. After I married in, it was essentially using the Sterling family’s blood to fill the Whitmore family’s bottomless pit. So whenever I brought up divorce, Sebastian would compromise. Back then, I thought his compromise was love, the only love he had for me. Now I understand—it wasn’t love, it was profit. Sebastian was compromising for the Whitmore family’s development. I adjusted my emotions and saw Melissa standing behind Sebastian. Melissa was two years younger than me. The Whitmore family had adopted her from an orphanage years ago. She had grown up with Sebastian since childhood—childhood sweethearts. And I was just a willful, selfish, spoiled girl in his eyes. I handed him the divorce papers. “Sign them.” Sebastian laughed mockingly and casually tore up the divorce agreement, not caring what I thought at all. “Melissa is moving in. Give her your master bedroom. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?” A problem? How would I dare have a problem? In my previous life, it was the same. Melissa insisted on living in the master bedroom that Sebastian and I shared. I refused, so she had to sleep in the side room. Then she fell out the window. She claimed the bed in the side room was next to the floor-to-ceiling window, so she accidentally fell. It was quite an accident indeed. What normal person sleeps without closing the floor-to-ceiling window? Sebastian blamed me for that incident. He said to teach me a lesson and locked me in a dark room without food or water. By the time he remembered me, I was barely alive. My best friend defended me: “Get divorced, Charlotte. If you keep tormenting yourself like this, that scumbag Sebastian will be the death of you.” But back then, my brain was broken, and I actually argued back. “Why does he only treat me badly and not others?” “Why does he only want my life and not others’?” “He loves me. He loves me to death.” Hearing these words, my friends gradually distanced themselves from me and stopped contacting me. Thinking back on those words now, I was such a fool. Since Melissa loved stealing nests so much, I’d give her this bird’s nest. “Fine.” I calmly agreed. A flash of surprise crossed Melissa’s eyes. All the schemes she had prepared were now useless. She looked me up and down repeatedly, then tugged on Sebastian’s arm. “About that thing…” Melissa trailed off suggestively. Sebastian pushed up his gold-framed glasses—the movement refined and elegant. I used to love this gentleman-scoundrel act of his. Now I realize, even if a dog did this, I would have loved it. Pure sickness. Sebastian spoke: “Melissa’s health isn’t good, and she needs to prepare for pregnancy. Take care of her for the next two weeks. I remember you studied nursing, right?” Yes, I studied nursing. For him. Back then, Sebastian was constantly drinking at business dinners for the nearly bankrupt Whitmore family, which damaged his stomach. He lay in the hospital for over ten days. He couldn’t afford a nurse, so I taught myself for a few days and took care of him around the clock for two weeks. I didn’t even blink. When he raised his hand, I handed him water. When he turned over, I gave him a massage. I was more diligent than a servant. I thought he would remember my kindness, but he only remembered me as a free nanny. I readily agreed again, but I took back what should have been mine. “Sebastian, give me back the three Sterling family seals I gave you, and I’ll agree.” Those three seals were the great heroes that helped the Whitmore company rise from the dead. Originally, my parents didn’t agree to my marriage to Sebastian. But I insisted on choosing him. So my parents gave me three seals representing our entire family enterprise. As long as I held these three seals, many companies would be willing to cooperate with the Whitmore family in the future. Mom also told me that whenever I took back these three seals, they would come get me even if they were on the other side of the world. When I gave Sebastian these three seals, I told him they would help his career. In my previous life, I also brought this up with him. Instead, he pointed at my nose and cursed. “Charlotte, what the hell is your Sterling family? What are these three seals? You really think you’re something special? Without your Sterling family, the Whitmore family can still rise again.” That’s when I learned: you can’t warm up an ungrateful wolf. You can’t warm up a heart made of stone either. What he doesn’t want, if I gave it to a dog, at least the dog would wag its tail at me. Sebastian disdainfully pulled one out from his pocket and gave it to me. “The other two—I’ll give you one every two weeks.” I knew what he meant. He wanted me to take good care of Melissa during this half-month period. After giving them all, I would leave. By then, my parents would naturally handle the divorce procedures for me. I withdrew all my admiration for Sebastian. I desperately wanted to see—when he was no longer the Whitmore family’s young master, when he was begging with a mountain of debt on his back, would Melissa still love only him?

For the remaining days, Melissa moved in. Her pregnancy preparations in my previous life had made me so angry I was hospitalized. I even developed anxiety disorder and nearly went insane. Because the pregnancy Melissa was preparing for was Sebastian’s child. Melissa said she had her own beliefs. Since the Whitmore family adopted her, she had to repay them. Sebastian had already married me, and I hadn’t had children for three years. She couldn’t bear to see the Whitmore family line end, so she was willing to sacrifice herself to bear an heir for the Whitmore family. She proposed IVF with Sebastian. It sounded nice calling it IVF, but behind the scenes, they had clearly had sex many times. Melissa sent me those photos and videos one by one. I was so stimulated I vomited blood. I was disheveled, sallow-faced, and utterly wretched when I found Sebastian at his company. He was in an international conference at the time. I burst right in, ruining his project, crawling on the floor and hugging his legs, begging him to love me, begging him to have a child with me. I even said: “I guarantee the child I give birth to will be smarter and more blessed than Melissa’s.” My outburst damaged Sebastian’s image. He had someone lock me up. Unable to stand my tantrums, he sent me to a psychiatric hospital. Only after I was tortured into submission did he bring me back. Even now, thinking about it makes my heart ache. Why did I debase myself like that? As for Melissa, she didn’t know that the reason Sebastian and I hadn’t had children in three years was because my parents had investigated. The Whitmore family carried genetic disease genes. Any children born would either be disabled or have cerebral palsy. So, to get back the Sterling family’s three seals, I was more nervous about Melissa’s belly than a maternity nurse would be. At eight in the morning, I had the kitchen prepare soup and sent it to Melissa. Melissa took a sip and threw it on me. “What garbage is this? Be careful or I’ll tell Sebastian.” I endured it. At noon during her rest, I found professionals to apply body oil to her skin to help keep it refined. Melissa specifically demanded I do it myself. “Charlotte, are your precious hands okay with serving me?” I endured again. At ten at night, Sebastian came home and entered the bedroom with Melissa. Sebastian pretended to be troubled. “Charlotte, this is all for me. You love me so much, you’ll understand, right?” I stood by the door, listening to the sounds of lovemaking inside, when I received a call from my parents. “Charlotte, your mother and I received the seals.” “Are you planning to come home?” One more left. Once I took the last one, all the projects under Whitmore Enterprises would come to a complete halt. Because over these three years, all the projects were stamped with my Sterling family seal. All the partners only recognized the Sterling family. I stood at the door, peeking through the crack at the two people pressed together inside, and smiled. “Mom, Dad, remember to pick me up in a week.” During the two weeks of caring for Melissa, I barely slept or ate. I lost a significant amount of weight. Sebastian’s evaluation of me, however, kept getting better. He often stared at me in a daze, occasionally spitting out a few decent words from his dog mouth. “Charlotte, if you were always this obedient and didn’t make a fuss, how nice that would be.” I pressed my lips together and smiled without speaking. I won’t make a fuss anymore. I just don’t know if he’ll make a fuss when Whitmore goes bankrupt. Sebastian placed the last seal in my hand. Afraid he would regret it, I put the divorce papers on the table again and reminded him. “Remember to sign tonight when you come back.” Sebastian’s eyes filled with more mockery. “What, now that Melissa’s pregnant, you’re going to pull that live suicide stunt again?” “Charlotte, if you die, I’ll collect your corpse.” I lowered my head without speaking, knowing he meant what he said. So I won’t be as foolish as in my previous life. I originally wanted to pack some things to take with me, but realized there was nothing worth packing. Sebastian left through the front door, and I got in my car through the back. I turned off my phone, threw away the SIM card. From now on, mountains high and roads far. Sebastian, I’ll be waiting in New York to watch you fall.

I blocked all his messages, but forgot about the SnapChat group I’d created when I threatened suicide. On my first day away, the first person to tag me in the group was our mutual friend Mason. He was also the one who called me a simp most viciously, because his family had always cooperated with Sebastian, so whatever Sebastian did, Mason was enthusiastic about covering for him. Thinking back now, on the day I attempted suicide, he was also the one shouting the loudest in the group. “Charlotte, just die already. I’ve never seen a female ghost with such an obsessive love brain. Besides, what do you have that’s better than Melissa?” At this moment, Mason was shouting even louder than that day. “Charlotte, besides playing suicide, can you also play missing? If you crawl back now to apologize to Sebastian, I can still put in a good word for you and have Sebastian give you the free gift when he buys jewelry for Melissa.” Put in a good word? Can a dog even speak human language? I clicked on the video Mason posted. It was from the afternoon of the day I left. He was accompanying Melissa at the mall buying the most expensive jewelry. The two were lovey-dovey—if you didn’t know better, you’d think they were actually husband and wife. How was I so blind in my previous life? From the video, Sebastian had reserved the entire mall for her and was buying extremely luxurious and expensive items. Mason was right. The jewelry Sebastian used to give me were all free gifts from what he bought for Melissa—worthless, and I had to beg him for them. But I was a bit puzzled. Does Sebastian have money to buy jewelry now? I contacted a friend in the capital and got the complete video. In the continuation of the video, the two spent a long time selecting items. During this, Sebastian first received a text message. [Dear Mr. Whitmore, your bank account has been debited xxxxxx. Remaining balance: zero dollars.] Seeing this message, he thought it was a scam and paid no attention. “Charge the card.” The clerk took the black card, but returned in less than a minute. “Mr. Whitmore, I’m very sorry, could you use a different card? This one won’t go through.” That simple sentence left Sebastian confused. He then tried many other cards, but none would go through. Sebastian suddenly remembered the text message and quickly called the company’s finance department. “Lisa, where’s the money in my account?” Finance: “Mr. Whitmore, because we breached our contracts, all the money in the company accounts has been paid out in compensation.” Breach of contract? All the money paid out in compensation? Melissa heard these words and let out a shriek. “Sebastian, it’s Charlotte. It must be her.” Sebastian took a sharp breath and immediately called me, but my phone was unreachable. He left me messages. “Charlotte, what game are you playing? Where’s the company’s money?” “Charlotte, answer me.” Unable to contact me, Sebastian felt helpless because his phone was going crazy receiving text messages. Half were from the company demanding the seals. Half were from partners demanding payment. And another half were astronomical breach-of-contract fees. I could clearly see Sebastian’s fingertips trembling, just like how my heart trembled when I saw him with Melissa. You see. A person can live without love, but absolutely cannot live without money. The video ended there. I clicked my tongue lightly. It seemed Sebastian’s good brothers still didn’t know about Sebastian and the company’s situation. I saved the messages he sent me, planning to let this group of people see later who was shamelessly begging whom. I collected myself. I was about to meet with partners—companies that had previously cooperated with Sebastian. They intended to withdraw their projects from the capital and come to New York to work with me. Then I received crazy tags in the SnapChat group again. It was actually Melissa. That haughty tone and the attitude of giving charity to a pitiful wretch made me nauseous. “Charlotte, Sebastian said as long as you come crawling back and appear before him, he’ll forgive you.” “A woman can’t be too difficult. Men don’t have much patience, especially men at the top of the pyramid like Sebastian.”

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