Category: English

1 At the wedding, as the officiant called out, “You may now kiss the bride,” Professor Davies’s student suddenly stood up, interrupting the ceremony. She announced that Selene, his research assistant, was getting married tomorrow, a decision made because Professor Davies had broken her heart. Professor Davies’s eyes changed instantly. He dropped the wedding ring and sprinted down the aisle. I snatched the microphone, yelling after his retreating figure, “If you walk out today, we are done for good.” He faltered, just for a second, but then got in his car and drove off without a backward glance. I stood on the stage and smiled. Professor Davies, there’s no such thing as having your cake and eating it too. You chose your love; don’t blame me for taking your career. I should have realized it much earlier. That day, as we lay entwined, at the peak of intimacy, his throat rumbled as he whispered “Selene.” In that moment, I knew he had feelings for his young research assistant. Afterwards, still breathless, I gave him one last chance, asking if he wanted to get married the next day. He rejected it without a second thought, saying he had to accompany Selene abroad for a closed-door research project. I told him: either stay, or the engagement is off. There was no third option. Allergic to alcohol, he drank all night. He woke up the next day, eyes bloodshot, saying he wouldn’t go. But from then on, he started secretly drinking, ending up in the ER for stomach pumping again and again. Now, he had finally chosen her. … One minute after Professor Davies left, the murmurs from the audience erupted into a chorus of whispers and pointed fingers. “Professor Davies just ditched his bride and eloped with his mistress. Isn’t that a public slap in the face for the Sterling family?” “I can’t believe even a powerful socialite like Ms. Scarlett Sterling could be jilted!” “Guess even someone as level-headed as Professor Davies couldn’t handle her high-maintenance attitude!” The gossip filled my ears. Professor and Mrs. Davies’s faces were paler than mine. “Scarlett, what happened today is completely Frank’s fault. Don’t worry, tonight we’ll tie him up and bring him back to consummate the marriage!” “Mr. Davies, aren’t you shameless?” My mom scoffed, stepping forward to shield me. “Today, Frank didn’t just disrespect my daughter; he openly defied the entire Sterling family!” My dad and brother stood, their expressions icy, radiating an overwhelming pressure. Mrs. Davies, pale, pleaded with me. “Scarlett, Frank was just seduced by that vixen! You know he’s always been upright; he’d never act like this before!” “Before?” I scoffed, savoring the word. Professor Davies was a renowned university professor, usually quiet and somewhat awkward. He wouldn’t even send a cash gift on holidays, let alone celebrate various festivals. Whenever I brought it up, he’d brush me off impatiently: “Scarlett, those holidays are a waste of time and energy. I don’t have the patience for that.” So, I made excuses for him again and again in front of my parents and friends. But on my birthday, when he forgot again, his seemingly clueless student, Selene, posted on social media. [So grateful to my beloved mentor for the 99th gift!] The picture showed a bed laden with various designer bags, cosmetics, and jewelry—Hermès, Chanel, the works. Total value in the millions. That night, Professor Davies, to make amends, initiated intimacy. But he didn’t know that the name he cried out in passion exposed his true beloved. Afterward, he seized the opportunity to suggest going abroad with Selene for a three-year research project. That day, I finally saw clearly: Professor Davies wasn’t incapable of love; he simply wasn’t willing to love me. I slapped away Mrs. Davies’s clutching hand. My voice was calm. “From today on, my engagement to Professor Davies is off.” If he wouldn’t love, then no one would. “Off?!” Mr. Davies bellowed, then, remembering something, forced a smile. “Scarlett, then you’ll still agree to help me with the funding issues for my company, won’t you?” Before I could speak, my brother sneered. “Mr. Davies, you’ve got some nerve. The engagement’s off, so of course, all other agreements are null and void!” Mr. and Mrs. Davies’s faces turned ashen. Only our two families knew that Professor Davies’s company was facing a severe funding crisis. This “marriage” was more of a strategic merger for him to save his family’s business. Too bad he blew it. As I turned to leave, Mr. Davies, not giving up, rushed in front of me, his face contorted. “Scarlett, don’t worry, I’ll give you an explanation tonight!” I didn’t think much of it. Back home, I made a bonfire of all the academic papers and gifts Professor Davies had ever given me. I used to think he was just unromantic, cherishing his perfunctory academic papers as if they were treasures. After the fire died down, a message popped up on my phone. Selene had posted on social media again, bragging profusely. [Finally got a taste of my crush’s meat!] The accompanying picture showed red teeth marks on a man’s chest, leaving nothing to the imagination. I smiled, taking a screenshot. The next second, Professor Davies’s call came in. “Scarlett, running out on the wedding today was wrong of me, but Selene is my student. I can’t just ignore her if she does something foolish.” I laughed. “Foolish? What’s her marriage got to do with you, Professor Davies? You publicly humiliated me today; you should have expected the consequences.” My words choked Professor Davies. An impatient voice came through the phone. “Are you done with your tantrum? I’ve already told you we’re completely innocent. If your mind is dirty, fine, but to maliciously frame and spread rumors? Scarlett, how did you become like this?” “Alright, my dad has already lectured me. Go handle the investment matter quickly. I’ll be back once I’ve had a talk with Selene.” Listening to his feigned righteousness, I found it laughable. He was the one who claimed to be reserved, asking for my understanding, then turned around and joked with his female student. He was the one who used work as an excuse to ignore my birthday, yet painstakingly prepared exquisite gifts for his student. He was the one who, for the happiness of someone else, demanded I be humiliated at my own wedding. I had given him countless chances to choose. But he chose to publicly abandon me at the altar, shaming me. I had loved him, but no more. I almost blocked and deleted his number, but the call hadn’t ended. Selene’s provocative voice came through. “Professor, who has a better figure, me or your fiancée?” “…You.” I raised an eyebrow, quietly starting a recording. Then I contacted the private investigator staked out at Professor Davies’s villa. “Tonight, record their every position, every move, from start to finish.” Professor Davies, you can come back, but you’ll find no one at your side. Indeed, at 5 AM, Professor Davies was forced by his father to return to my house. The moment he walked in, he dumped several large boxes of cosmetics and gift sets at my feet. “Scarlett Sterling! How long are you going to push my dad? Just because of a few boxes of cosmetics, you’re going to take it out on the company? Using your position for personal vendettas—you weren’t like this before!” “You’re not getting any younger. What’s wrong with using more?” His words stung, deliberately twisting a knife into me. I scoffed, stepping forward and tearing open his shirt, revealing the teeth marks underneath. Professor Davies froze. “Selene’s cat bit me…” I sneered, remembering how Professor Davies had deliberately hidden his identity as the eldest son of the Davies family when he pursued me. I was moved by his seemingly naive approach to courtship. Later, when he claimed to be aloof, pouring his heart into research and disdaining money, it was I who funded him from behind the scenes. I even brought in friends from my circle to invest and support him. With a few dismissive words, he had painted me as nothing but a jealous, petty woman. His phone rang. He answered, then hastily left. Before he did, he warned me. “Scarlett Sterling, if you still want me to marry you, behave yourself, don’t cause trouble. Hurry up and deal with the company’s issues. I don’t have time for your drama.” Three minutes later, Selene posted on social media again. [Tamed my crush like a dog, he comes running whenever I call.] My eyes flickered. I turned and sent a message to the exclusive group chat for heirs and heiresses of high-society families in the capital. “All funding for Professor Davies’s lab, halt it immediately.” Replies flooded in instantly: “Scarlett, copy that.” He wants to help Selene reach new heights? I’ll make sure he does. But without basic funding, how long could they really last? What I didn’t expect was the commotion outside the company the next afternoon. My assistant ran in, drenched in sweat. “Ms. Sterling, it’s bad! Professor Davies brought several students and lab personnel to the company, demanding an explanation!” I narrowed my eyes. Through the transparent skylight, I clearly saw a dozen people holding banners that read: [Capitalist Scarlett Sterling, stop hijacking scientific research!] [Capitalists out of the investment world!] … I suppressed the thumping in my chest and gave the security guards downstairs the order to let them in. Ten seconds later, a dozen people stormed into my office. The moment Selene saw me, she dropped to her knees, crying hysterically and slapping herself, wailing. “Ms. Sterling, I know you’ve always disliked me. You can have anyone hit me or curse me, even disfigure me, but you can’t instigate others to get jealous and withdraw funding!” “If you’re unhappy, just slap me yourself!” The sound of slapping echoed through the room. Professor Davies suddenly rushed from behind, tenderly pulling the woman to her feet. “Selene, stand tall! This has nothing to do with you!” Then he glared at me, his voice chilling. “Scarlett Sterling, your withdrawal of funding is a matter of national importance, not a toy for you capitalists!” I remained silent, coolly observing the unfolding drama. After Professor Davies spoke, the students and researchers behind him, fueled by his words, were agitated. Some grabbed their phones, live-streaming directly into my face, yelling indignantly. “Folks, live broadcast of a capitalist hindering scientific progress! Bullying students!” Others, carrying red paint, ambushed me from behind, deliberately splashing me. I was drenched, the sticky paint spreading over my limbs. Selene, not giving up, knelt before me again. She tore off the bandage on her face for the camera. The horrifying scar was revealed for a moment, making everyone gasp. I looked down at her with disdain. “Ms. Sterling, please let us go! I know everything started because of me. Whatever you say, I’m willing to do!” Then, she crawled closer to me on her knees and whispered, “Scarlett Sterling, so what if your parents are the richest people in the capital? Professor Davies despises elites like you the most!” “He’ll only be mine. You can’t take him away.” The next second, she dramatically pulled out a hidden knife and stabbed herself in the abdomen. Warm blood splattered across my face. Selene’s eyes widened in terror, her trembling finger pointing at me. Everyone was startled by the sudden turn of events, and they all pointed at me, yelling. “Murder! The capitalist is a murderer!” Professor Davies’s face was as black as thunder. He shoved me aside with a fierce push, picking up Selene and roaring, “Call 911!” I stared coldly at the woman’s triumphant smirk, my hands unconsciously clenching. After Selene was taken away by the ambulance, Professor Davies approached me, his face dark. “Are you satisfied now that you’ve killed her?” The crowd stirred again, a new wave of angry accusations aimed at me, followed by furious smashing of objects. As the situation spiraled out of control, I curled my lips into an amused smile. “You’re saying I deliberately murdered her? How about we check the security footage and confront each other publicly? If I really killed Selene, I’m willing to go to jail.” At my words, the angry shouts from the crowd slowly subsided. In the live stream, the initial skepticism from viewers had begun. [No way, you guys are being swayed by public opinion. I don’t think this woman would be stupid enough to kill someone, right?] [Can’t say for sure, what if?] [I also think this woman wouldn’t be that dumb. On the contrary, that woman just now seemed a bit unstable.] Professor Davies stared intently at me, his brows deeply furrowed. “Scarlett Sterling, you’re the CEO of Sterling Corp. It’s possible you deliberately tampered with the surveillance footage.” “Selene is my student. If you want to harm her, you’ll have to go through me first.” With that, he didn’t give up. He pulled out his phone, flipped the camera, and with bloodshot eyes, accused me. “Scarlett Sterling is my fiancée. During this time, she’s certainly, out of childish jealousy, caused harm to many people. As her fiancée, I apologize, but I won’t play favorites. I clarify here that everything she did to my student, Selene, is true.” “As for her disruption of research funding and attempted murder, I will not defend her in court.” Having said that, Professor Davies decisively ended the live stream and left with his group. Someone wanted to turn back and insult me, but he was forcefully led away. I stood silently. My assistant nervously swallowed. “Ms. Sterling, less than a minute after the live stream ended, Sterling Corp’s stock plummeted ten points.” I suppressed the turmoil in my heart. “Contact the PR department. Prepare a swift clarification.” However, my clarification couldn’t catch up with the speed of Professor Davies and Selene’s slander. Tabloids relentlessly edited videos, maliciously portraying me as a murderer and a fund-withdrawer. My social media accounts were besieged by trolls and haters. Keyboard warriors even sent me razor blades by mail. On the street, people called me an “academic vampire.” All the projects Sterling Corp had previously collaborated on, even contracts that had already passed, were either withdrawn or had their compensation demands inflated. As public opinion spiraled, my brother called. “Scarlett, you’ve gone too far this time. Professor Davies and his family are bribing major platforms’ online trolls and influential lawyers across the city to deny you legal recourse.” “They’re claiming you maliciously destroyed a major national project, and even some high-ranking officials are asking questions. Those old board members want you to apologize to the Davies family, agree to the marriage, and fix their funding issues.” “You…” I took a deep breath, hung up the phone, and unblocked a number I’d previously blacklisted. “Let’s meet.” Half an hour later, Professor Davies brought me to Selene’s hospital room. “Apologize.” I lowered my gaze. “I’m sorry.” The man’s expression softened considerably. He flicked the ash from his cigarette and raised an eyebrow. “Scarlett Sterling, so you can be pushed to the brink too, huh?” “But back then, Selene was just like you are now, even more miserable.” I lifted my eyelids. “What do I need to do for you to let me go?” Professor Davies crossed his legs, leaning casually back on the leather sofa, and asked Selene indifferently, “Selene, what do you want?” Selene feigned innocence, biting her index finger. “I… I just hope to clear the air with Ms. Sterling.” Professor Davies, however, ruffled her hair with a helpless look. “I know you’re timid, so your professor will help you.” “Scarlett Sterling, restore the Davies family’s funding, tell your rich friends to cancel the withdrawal of research investments, and since Selene’s face was disfigured by you, arrange for her skin graft.” “Apologize to Selene on all platforms. After you’ve done all that, I might consider getting married.” I scoffed, a laugh devoid of humor, and stared at him intently before turning to leave. That “I’m sorry” was an apology to my past self for being so blind. But he had a lot of nerve. A truly outrageous demand. If I gave it to him, did he even deserve it? Stepping out of the hospital room, I immediately contacted the private investigator to retrieve the recorded videos and photos, and compiled the evidence of his lab’s illegal use of materials that my black card account had uncovered earlier. Since he loved it so much, all this evidence would be enough to keep them busy for a lifetime. Having finished up, I walked out of the hospital. The moment I stepped out, a sharp pain shot through the back of my head. My vision went black, and I tumbled backward. When I opened my eyes again, blinding surgical lights shone directly on my face. My body trembled. My hands and feet were tightly bound with iron chains. Professor Davies walked in, his expression cold. “Scarlett Sterling, do you think a hospital is a place you can just come and go as you please? You’ve had enough time; have you thought it over?” My heart suddenly clenched, a vein throbbing in my forehead. “Professor Davies, if you dare lay a hand on me, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life!” The man, holding Selene’s hand, approached me. “Selene’s face—if it weren’t for your meddling and cancellation of funding, how would we have used inferior materials? She wouldn’t have been disfigured!” “Do you think an apology will make everything alright?” I gritted my teeth, my blood boiling. “She injured her own face!” But Professor Davies chose to ignore my explanation, coldly instructing the doctor beside him. “Begin. Take the softest layer from her face. I’m worried Selene might reject it.” The sharp needle pierced my skin. My pupils constricted, my body trembling uncontrollably from pain and resentment. My screams grew fainter and fainter. Professor Davies then entered, his gaze filled with a feigned guilt as it fell upon my bandaged face. “Scarlett, I will marry you.” I gathered all my strength and slapped him. He turned his head, a slight smirk playing on his lips. The next moment, I was violently dragged and shoved into a car. When I emerged, a crowd of reporters, armed with cameras and microphones, swarmed my face. Professor Davies forcefully pressed me onto a seat at a press conference. He spoke in a soft, coaxing tone. “Scarlett, clarify everything, pave the way for Selene’s future, and it will all be over.” My fists beneath the table trembled. I listened to the reporters below, their eyes glinting, firing off one sharp, damning question after another. A faint smile played on my lips. Professor Davies, do you think you have me cornered? I had been prepared for this…

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1 The earthquake hit when I was nineteen, shattering the elaborate self-deception I’d built over the years. I woke to a violent tremor, still half-asleep. Through the haze, I saw Mom move with a speed I’d never witnessed before. She grabbed my younger sister, Rose, and bolted downstairs. She was a blur, nothing like her usual slow, absent-minded self. I just stood there, frozen, watching her disappear down the stairs. In that moment, a belief I’d clung to for so long crumbled to dust. Mom wasn’t slow to react. Her lightning-fast reflexes simply weren’t for me. When I was a little kid and a stray dog knocked me down, tearing at my arm, she stood nearby, her eyes blank. Only when a neighbor rushed over and pulled me to safety did she snap out of it, gasping, “Selene! What happened? Why didn’t you dodge it?” Later, when I gained weight and became a target for bullies, they’d corner me right outside our front door, beating me up. She’d watch the whole thing from the third-story window, silent. When I finally dragged myself home, bruised and battered, she’d rush over, her face a picture of innocent concern, asking, “Were they hitting you just now? Why didn’t you call me for help?” I used to tell myself she just had some kind of physical condition, that she couldn’t react quickly. But now I understood. Her “slowness” was reserved exclusively for me. In that instant, I just couldn’t take it anymore. … The ground shook violently. A loud crash from behind me—the wardrobe toppled—snapped me back to reality. I scrambled downstairs, fleeing for my life. Downstairs, Mom was panting, still clutching Rose, her eyes scanning my sister for injuries. When she saw me, she let out a surprised yelp. “Oh! Selene, you’re home too? Mom completely forgot. I thought you were still at college!” My face felt pale. A jagged nail had scraped my back as I ran out, leaving a stinging cut. Her words twisted in my gut. “Mom, I’ve been home for two days. Didn’t you know?” She didn’t bat an eye, pouting as if it were the most natural thing. “Didn’t know, honey. You know Mom sometimes takes a while to react. Selene, are you blaming me?” I swallowed, my throat dry. Just then, Dad, rushing home from work, saw the whole exchange. He walked straight up to me, slapped my shoulder hard without a word, his expression icy. “Selene Miller, did you waste all your education? Or did college make you think you can talk back to your mother like that?” His slap landed directly on my fresh wound. I gasped, a muffled cry escaping my lips. I looked up at his stern face. It had always been like this. My slow-to-react mother, coddled by my doting father, only grew more innocent and helpless over time. That time I was attacked by the dog. I’d once asked Mom why she hadn’t protected me. Before she could answer, Dad slammed his chopsticks on the table, his face dark. “Selene Miller, I’m only saying this once. Your mother is naturally slower to react than others.” “Even if you’d been mauled to death today, you’d have no right to blame her!” I flinched, my nose stinging, but I dared not cry. I just kept my head down, burying my face in my porridge, stirring it with my chopsticks. After that, I understood Mom’s “condition” and stopped blaming her. But this time… “Sis, don’t be so dramatic. You know Mom’s situation. Are you really going to pressure her?” Rose emerged from Mom’s embrace. As the clear beneficiary of the situation, her face held only a haughty contempt for me. Mom nodded in agreement, her gaze on Rose even more tender. I bit back the pain, took a deep breath. “Mom, you said you can’t react quickly. So why were you so fast when you saved Rose?” She frowned, snapping back, “I’m slow, not an idiot. Rose was right there; what, was I supposed to just leave her?” Her words made my wound ache even more. “But I was home too. Why didn’t you call me? Why did you forget me?” Mom choked, clearly caught off guard by my uncharacteristic assertiveness. She stammered, unable to find an answer. I managed a weak smile. “How many times, since I was born, has this happened?” “Mom, are you truly slow to react, or do you just not care if I live or die?” The more I spoke, the more the unfairness swelled, my voice rising, choked with emotion. Neighbors had started to gather around. “Selene, why is she acting out today? We all know about your mom’s condition; why bother with this?” “I think it’s because Rose is so smart and pretty. She’s just jealous and making a scene.” Everyone chimed in, dissecting me from head to toe. My fists clenched, my face growing paler. Mom stood by, watching silently, not defending me, but rather nodding along with their criticism. Dad gave me a shove. “That’s enough. Apologize to your mother, and cut out the attitude. It’s not a good look!” I pressed my lips together. This time, I didn’t back down as usual. Instead, I jutted out my chin and said, “I did nothing wrong, and I won’t apologize!” Dad’s face darkened instantly. His short temper flared, and he slapped me across the face with all his might. Already in pain and weakened, my vision swam. To the shock of the onlookers, I collapsed with a thud, fainting at Mom’s feet. 2 I woke up two days later. The doctor said I’d fainted due to tetanus, an infection from the wound. I glanced around the empty bedside and asked, “Has anyone come to see me?” “Yes, your father just left. He went to pay the bill.” I was silent for a moment. “No one else?” He nodded, gave me some instructions, and left. I let out a self-deprecating laugh, still foolishly hoping Mom would show up. I opened my phone. A new update on Mom’s social media: photos of her and Rose at a resort, all smiles. Just then, hurried footsteps sounded outside. I looked up as the door burst open. It was Mom, flustered and anxious. To my surprise, she rushed to my bedside. “Oh my goodness, Selene, you actually fainted? That day, I thought you just suddenly fell asleep!” “Your back is hurt? Was it because of the earthquake?” “It’s all Mom’s fault for reacting so slowly, otherwise I would have been here to take care of you right away.” I watched her quietly, then laughed, a hollow, absurd sound. I just couldn’t believe anyone could be that slow to react! Especially if I hadn’t seen her social media updates, showing her and Rose on vacation for the past two days, I might have actually believed her concern. But now, it seemed she’d had her fun and was only deigning to visit me, conveniently manufacturing an excuse for her absence. “Mom, where have you been?” Rose, beside her, beamed with a triumphant look. “Where else? Mom took me to…” Before she could finish, Mom pulled her arm and flashed me a forced smile. “Nowhere, just at home.” I scoffed, opened the social media post, and tossed my phone onto the bed. “If you’re going on vacation, you could at least block me.” She froze, then flushed, stammering for an explanation. Finally, like Dad, she dropped the act, her patience completely gone. “So what if I took your sister on a trip? Do I need your permission to go somewhere?” “Besides, I wasn’t intentionally not visiting you! I told you, I didn’t realize you fainted!” “Selene Miller, why are you so pushy, so unreasonable!” Her voice was loud, jarring. Her aggressive deflection chilled me to the bone. “Forget it,” I said with a scoff, lifting my head coolly. “Just leave. You don’t need to pretend to care.” Mom’s face stiffened, and the room’s atmosphere plummeted to freezing. Just then, Dad and my aunt, Aunt Carol, walked in. Aunt Carol frowned, stepping forward to scold me. “Selene, you should be respectful when speaking to your elders.” Seeing she had backup, Mom immediately burst into tears, hiding behind them. I felt a weariness deep in my bones. “Aunt Carol, do you know what happened? Dad probably didn’t tell you, so I will.” Dad frowned, too late to stop me. My aunt, hearing the story, turned a disapproving gaze on Mom. “Sister-in-law, that’s a bit unfair, isn’t it?” Mom choked again, unable to explain, her anger flaring. “I am slow to react! I could only save one, and I just didn’t remember Selene was home! Can you blame me for that?” She then rounded on me, scolding, “Selene Miller, I came to see you out of kindness, and instead of appreciating your mother’s efforts, you team up with everyone else to complain about me!” “I didn’t do it on purpose!” “I think you’ve just held a grudge against me all these years!” I took a deep breath, shaking my head. There was no getting through to her. “Think what you want. After I’m discharged, I’m moving out, so I won’t be an eyesore.” But at that, she immediately exploded. “What do you mean? You’re moving out? Are you trying to make the neighbors gossip about me, say I’m a cruel mother?” I paused, realizing I just wanted to leave. Then I cast her a cold glance. “Mom, how come your reaction time isn’t ‘slow’ this time? You’re thinking faster than I am.” Aunt Carol looked at Mom suspiciously, and Mom’s face paled. 3 She bristled, glaring at me. Dad, who had been silent, finally lost his temper. He kicked my hospital bed. Bang! The jarring impact sent a jolt through me, almost knocking me off the mattress. “Selene Miller! What kind of attitude is that?!” I fell silent. Mom seized the opportunity, squeezing out a couple of tears. My sister, Rose, immediately went to protect Mom, adding fuel to the fire. “Sis, did the earthquake hit your head? What’s wrong with you, attacking Mom like this?” “I can’t stand it. Don’t you know that Mom is like this because of you?!” I frowned, confused. Mom’s expression grew even more aggrieved. Rose, her face flushed, blurted out everything. “Mom almost bled out giving birth to you, and her brain was damaged, which is why she reacts so slowly!” “She pitied you, afraid you’d blame yourself, so she never said anything.” “And you! Just because she didn’t grab you, you won’t stop nagging?” My face went blank. “What?” Aunt Carol looked surprised, then immediately shifted sides, becoming Mom’s ally. “Selene, that’s not right of you.” Dad’s expression was equally grim. He held Mom tightly, who remained tearfully silent. I pressed my pale lips together, still unable to speak. Mom sniffled, then magnanimously reassured me. “It’s okay. Mom doesn’t blame you. You’re upset. Mom will come see you in a few days.” With that, they all left one by one. I looked up just in time to see Rose and Mom exchange a knowing, enigmatic smile. I didn’t dwell on it, lost in the words I’d just heard, my thoughts tangled. The next day, after being discharged, I tossed and turned all night. My mind felt restless, so I got out of bed and went to the kitchen, wanting a glass of ice water to cool down. As I stepped out, I heard hushed whispers from the balcony. “Good thing I made you come up with an excuse earlier, otherwise your sister would have been all over me again.” “That Selene girl, I don’t know what’s gotten into her. Ever since that earthquake, she’s become so petty.” My steps faltered. The ice water in my hand sloshed out. Rose, curious, asked, “So, Mom, is your reaction time really slower than most people?” Mom paused, cleared her throat. “Of course. But no matter how slow, if my precious Rosebud is in danger, I can react instantly.” Rose immediately threw herself into Mom’s arms, laughing and cuddling. My eyes froze. I quietly retreated to my room. Sitting on the bed, I let out a sharp, cold laugh. My entire day of guilt felt like a cruel joke. Suddenly, a loud bang echoed from the front door, followed by familiar curses. “Open up! Rachel, I’m your brother, are you really going to let me die?!” Rachel was Mom’s name, and the frantic man outside was my uncle, a gambling addict deep in debt. I jumped, reflexively shrinking into a ball in the corner. When I was little, my gambling uncle, owing a massive debt, came up with the idea of selling a child. He set his sights on me. He arranged for someone to easily take me from Mom, using a flimsy excuse. I was terrified, sensing something was wrong, and cried desperately. My cries alerted a passing police patrol, who rescued me, but I already had several injuries. Mom arrived at the police station, looked at me, and after a long moment, exaggeratedly covered her mouth. “Oh my goodness, Selene, he was trying to sell you!” “It’s all Mom’s fault. I only just realized I shouldn’t have let a stranger take you.” But later, when Rose was born, she never allowed my uncle or anyone else to even get close to Rose… Lost in thought, the knocking stopped. I sat by the bed all night. When the sky began to lighten, I finally stood, dragging my numb body to pack my bags. A little while later, I opened the door, bag in hand. That’s when I saw the living room filled with neighbors and relatives. 4 Dad frowned. “What’s gotten into you now? It’s your mother’s birthday today, hurry up and help with the cooking!” Mom saw my bags and also froze, then started complaining. “Selene? Are you still throwing a tantrum? Everything I do is because of you. You’re choosing this exact moment to leave, just to make the neighbors say I’m a heartless woman?” Rose, eating her favorite shrimp dumplings, glanced at me without a word. My fingers clenched. I was allergic to seafood and hated shrimp dumplings, yet Rose loved them, and Mom made them every day. The favoritism had always been woven into the fabric of our daily lives. “Selene, you’re such a hothead,” Old Mrs. Jones from next door pouted. “We all know the ins and outs of what happened. You’re really being unreasonable.” “Yeah, nineteen and still so childish. I guess she went to college for nothing.” Mom didn’t say a single word in my defense. She knew the truth, yet she let them scold me. Facing their accusations, I scoffed. “You’re all just here for the drama! This is my family’s business, what do any of you really know?” Old Mrs. Jones immediately bristled. “Huh! What do you mean we don’t know? We all know about your mom’s condition, why are you blaming her?” “Sure, she almost let you get kidnapped, and you were bitten by a dog, but your mom just couldn’t react in time. She was upset and hurt too.” “You’re nineteen, it’s time to grow up. Rose is even better than you.” Rose, hearing this, looked smug, adding fuel to the fire. “Exactly, sis. You’re too petty. I can’t believe you’re still like this, even after knowing the truth about Mom’s condition.” “I feel bad for Mom.” Mom looked at me, her expression disappointed. “Selene, I’ve never deprived you of food or clothes all these years. I took care of you with all my heart, and I can’t believe that just because I didn’t react in time to pull you during an earthquake, you hate me so much.” I clenched my fists, looking at them standing opposite me, while I stood alone and helpless. My gaze grew darker. “Think what you want. From today on, I will never return to this house.” “It’ll free up space for your family of three.” Dad’s face turned grim, and Mom sighed. “Fine. If you insist on leaving, then you’ll need to sign an agreement.” I frowned. “What agreement?” She pulled something from behind her, as if she’d prepared it in advance. “An agreement stating you are voluntarily disowning us.” “To prevent people from talking behind my back later.” My fingertips gripping the paper turned white. I suddenly laughed, my eyes filled with mockery. “Mom, at a time like this, your reaction is surprisingly fast.” Her face stiffened at my sarcasm. Old Mrs. Jones, who already disliked me, began inciting the others to verbally attack me. “What a heartless girl. Rachel, I told you it wasn’t worth it, getting your nerves messed up for her sake!” Aunt Carol, who had just walked in, also looked at me with displeasure. “Selene, apologize to your mother right now. We’ll let this go.” She turned stern. “I hear you’re applying for a national scholarship, right? If you’re so unfilial, I don’t think you deserve that award.” Aunt Carol taught at my university. If she wanted to, she could really sabotage the national scholarship I had worked so hard to earn. Faced with their relentless pressure, I lowered my eyes, then let out a cold laugh. After a silent pause, I tossed a yellowed report onto the table in front of everyone. In the next second, I saw Mom’s face drastically change.

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1 I was heading to administration to ask why every male colleague had received flowers from the CEO’s girlfriend except me, when I overheard breakroom talk. They said CEO Schmidt’s boyfriend was upset because I kept visiting her office. To placate him, she supposedly used my flower budget to buy a huge bouquet for an intern, Jay Cloud. Someone even called me an old man shamelessly chasing the CEO. I’m a tech lead—this was blatant targeting. I froze, recalling Jay Cloud’s enormous bouquet this morning, a chill in my heart. Since the company started, Olivia Schmidt had never sent me flowers. Not today, and she couldn’t even spare time for our anniversary dinner. Lately, even during our intimate moments, she’d cut things short, preoccupied with the company’s new tech challenges, fearing our competitor, the Hayes Group, would get ahead. I’d joined her company with my top-tier tech, turning down a lucrative offer from Hayes because I sympathized with her startup struggles. I became a workaholic, agreed to a secret marriage—all so she could focus without social distractions. But what happened? Faced with malicious gossip, she stayed silent and distant, yet showed obvious favoritism toward intern Jay Cloud. I looked at the hard drive in my hand, holding the latest tech updates, took a deep breath, and called the Hayes Group. “I agree to the technical equity investment. The partnership is settled!” … There was a few seconds of silence on the other end. Katherine Hayes, often called the “Ice Queen of Tech,” couldn’t hide the excitement in her voice. “Ethan, you won’t regret this. I promise, your decision will be the best one you’ve ever made! Tomorrow is the East Coast bid. With your tech, we’ve got this!” No sooner had I agreed than the phone was snatched from my hand. I turned to meet Olivia Schmidt’s icy gaze, with a group of gloating employees standing behind her. She hung up my call without even looking, her tone frigid. “It’s just a bouquet of flowers. As a technical lead, do you really need to cause a scene with HR over this? If word gets out, people will think Jay is giving you trouble. What kind of impression would that make?” A bitter smile played on my lips—I hadn’t even succeeded in reaching HR, and she was already this concerned for Jay Cloud. Yet, for the past year, colleagues had branded me as an older, deluded man trying to break up her relationship, spreading vile rumors, and she had acted as if she were deaf. Seeing the boss furious, the others naturally understood and joined in the verbal assault. “Mr. Borges is such an old man, he probably never received flowers before, that’s why he cares so much, right?” “Are home-wreckers all so shameless? CEO Schmidt is avoiding suspicion and doesn’t want to give you flowers, but you still keep clinging on!” “Jay and us, young and handsome, are the ones who deserve perks. What are you, an old, faded gold-digger, even thinking about?” Every word felt like a thousand arrows piercing my heart, yet Olivia Schmidt’s face remained utterly impassive—I instantly realized that perhaps they were merely speaking her mind, which was why she was so calm. I trembled with anger, my cold gaze fixed on the woman I had been married to for seven years. “I’m also a male employee of this company. Is there a problem with me fighting for the benefits I’m entitled to?” Seeing my eyes redden, a flicker of emotion finally crossed Olivia Schmidt’s face, and she sighed softly. “If you really want…” Jay Cloud suddenly appeared, holding that bouquet of flowers, his eyes red, and interrupted her. “Mr. Borges, it’s my fault. I’m just an intern; I don’t deserve this! If you like it, it’s yours. Please don’t use your supervisor position to pressure me. I’m really scared!” His close colleagues at the company also stepped forward, snidely complaining. “CEO Schmidt, as soon as Jay received the flowers this morning, Mr. Borges made him print hundreds of pages of garbled documents within an hour. Jay’s back was breaking standing by the printer, but the printout was clearly just useless paper that no one would read. Isn’t this obvious workplace bullying?” Olivia Schmidt saw the stack of half-printed documents on the table, and that flicker of emotion instantly vanished. She snatched a stack, glaring at the indecipherable content, tore it to shreds in anger, and showered me with the pieces. “And I thought about compensating you! Our Schmidt company has always prided itself on employee welfare. You, a cruel individual who bullies subordinates, are an absolute disgrace!” Behind the fluttering paper fragments, Jay Cloud and his allies wore triumphant smiles. But Olivia Schmidt didn’t know that the papers contained my latest technical report, which I had slaved over for five sleepless nights. I had asked the intern to print it this morning because I wanted to submit it to East Coast Group, the largest client in the industry, before their bid deadline, securing the project directly. She grabbed another stack of papers and slapped me hard across the face with them. “Apologize to Jay, now!” The sharp edges of the A4 paper left several red marks on my face, but the stinging pain was nothing compared to the desolation in my heart. I bent down to pick up the documents I had painstakingly worked on, my voice as cold as my heart. “He didn’t print the files within the hour as I requested this morning because he was showing off his flowers. He’s the one who should apologize!” Olivia Schmidt’s face grew even darker. She stepped forward and grabbed my collar. “Ethan Borges, when did you become so hypocritical and malicious? You’re clearly in the wrong, willing to throw away all your dignity just for a bit of jealousy? Kneel down and apologize to Jay, and I… I might still let you stay on the team!” That group of sycophants erupted. “You rotten mistress, using your authority to bully the rightful person, and you still have the nerve to demand an apology?!” “A pile of waste paper, wasting company resources and disrupting our work. What kind of selfish wretch deserves to be a lead?” “You usually know you’re cheap, not wanting salary or benefits, just throwing yourself at CEO Schmidt. But today, for a bouquet, you finally couldn’t keep up the act, could you?” I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly—when Olivia and I got married, she was dirt poor, but knowing I liked flowers, she’d often pick wild ones for me. Those days were humble, but our hearts were rich. Then she decided to start her own business, pinching every penny, with no time to give me flowers. As an already renowned tech expert in the industry, I had no choice but to invest my money and efforts to support her. It wasn’t until last year, when the company started to gain traction, expanding its team and hiring many interns, aiming to capture the market. I watched her journey, knowing her struggles as an entrepreneur, so I joined Schmidt Inc. without a salary, giving all my benefits to new hires. Even when rumors about her and Jay Cloud reached my ears, even when I knew Jay, an intern, could expense anything in the company without receipts or limits, even when he couldn’t even manage basic printing after a year, but still received a sports car as a year-end bonus—Olivia’s explanation of “to empathize with subordinates and boost team cohesion” was enough for me. But today, this benefit, I always thought she remembered my preferences and wouldn’t leave me out. Yet, I realized that all my years of patient support only earned me disdain in everyone’s eyes. I pointed at the data on the file, my heart aching as I looked at Olivia Schmidt. “This is a technical report I poured my heart and soul into. If he had followed my time requirements this morning, this document alone would have secured the East Coast bid ahead of schedule. Now it’s all ruined. Shouldn’t he be the one leaving?” Seeing me point at Jay Cloud, he rolled his eyes, tears streaming down his face. “Mr. Borges, just because I have CEO Schmidt’s favor, you’re setting such a malicious trap to harm me? No wonder you gave me a deadline to print so many documents—it was to blame me for not developing the software CEO Schmidt needed, fearing failure in tomorrow’s bid! Are you trying to hurt me so badly just to cling to CEO Schmidt?” Others chimed in. “I heard CEO Schmidt has been unhappy with the tech department for a year for not breaking through this bottleneck. This old man is really cunning, using Jay as a scapegoat!” “So it didn’t matter if the printout was garbled; it was just a way to give Jay an impossible task and shift the blame!” “He’s so malicious! No wonder he wanted to be a mistress and climb the ladder quickly; turns out he knew he was incompetent!” Olivia Schmidt’s eyes were like daggers. She shoved me onto the pile of documents on the floor. “You really went to great lengths to scheme against Jay! You offered your services for tech development, and I haven’t heard anything from you in so long. Turns out all your efforts were focused on framing Jay! Apologize to Jay immediately, or don’t even think about staying with the company!” But she forgot that when the company was just starting and couldn’t afford employees, I often filled in for all positions, including printing hundreds of documents in an hour, which was always her basic requirement. But when it came to Jay Cloud, it became me deliberately making things difficult. I gave a desolate smile, got up, brushed the paper bits off myself, took off my company ID, threw it on the floor, and started packing my things. “No need for threats. I quit now!” I printed another document, signed it, and handed it to her. “Sign it, and I’ll send you the mailing address.” Seeing the words “Divorce Agreement,” Olivia Schmidt froze, then instinctively grabbed my arm as I was about to leave— The others thought I was giving her a resignation letter and clapped in delight. Only Jay Cloud, seeing her hold onto me, instantly frowned and quickly pulled Olivia Schmidt’s arm away. “CEO Schmidt, are you trying to drag Mr. Borges back to apologize to me? If he resigns as an apology, I might not be entirely against it…” Olivia Schmidt then regained her composure. Always mindful of her public image as CEO, she quickly nodded in agreement with him. “Exactly. How can I let this cruel man leave so easily?” She yanked me back, pinning me against the wall. “If I win the bid tomorrow, I’ll be a hero immortalized in the business world! How can you just walk out now?” The ferocity and unwillingness in her eyes made it hard for me to discern if she wanted me to stay for the bid, or for the love that had been worn down to a mere inconvenience over time. But I had long lost interest in guessing her thoughts, my heart as dead as ashes as I looked directly into her eyes. “Since you think I’m incompetent, and you resent me for hindering your love life, why stop me?” Olivia Schmidt’s face stiffened. She glanced at Jay Cloud behind her, trying to cover her tracks. “You’re dereliction of duty, bullying a colleague! Don’t drag me into it!” Then she leaned close to my ear, gritting her teeth. “Is it because I’ve been busy with work these past few months and less attentive in bed that you’re making such a big deal out of a bouquet of flowers, causing all this chaos?” I shook my head silently, pushing her away hard, but the contents of the cardboard box in my arms scattered across the floor. Jay Cloud immediately picked up the most noticeable item, an album, flipped it open, and sneered. “No wonder Mr. Borges was so eager to leave Schmidt Inc.! Turns out he realized CEO Schmidt was a lost cause, so he moved on!” The others glanced at it and joined in the mockery. “Today, seeing he didn’t even get flowers, he knew CEO Schmidt was a dead end, so he started looking for his next target. How cheap! Looks like he didn’t waste any time hopping into cars to hook up with new prospects. So shameless!” But as Olivia Schmidt saw what was inside, her face turned ghastly pale— The album contained no photos, only tickets. They were from college, during the National Computer Competition, when she, as their school’s logistics manager, fell in love with me at first sight and passionately confessed. But at that time, I was already a renowned prodigy, unmatched in software technology, a world apart from her, a queen of failing grades who only cared about playing both sides. I gently rejected her, but after the competition, she came back again and again, enduring hours on trains, fighting for my attention. When we got married, she gave me all the train tickets made into an album, embracing me with tears streaming down her face. “It took me thousands of miles to win you over. How could I not cherish you?” But now, this album of tickets had become the most ridiculous irony. Seeing my silence, the employees assumed they had guessed my illicit affair correctly, and immediately pulled out their phones, pointing them at my face and starting a live stream. “I’ve never seen such a shameless home-wrecker. Fail with one, immediately go ruin the next. Everyone, beware!” Instantly, my bruised and swollen face, paired with the title “Most Afraid of an Older, Yet Driven Mistress,” spread across the entire internet. Netizens happily feasted on the gossip, slander flying freely. “So old and still wanting to be a mistress, it’s just about the easy money, isn’t it?” “Who cares if he’s incompetent professionally, he’ll just make up for it in bed!” Some also questioned, “This man looks familiar, he seems to have won many tech awards before. He should be able to make good money. Why would he need to be a mistress?” Infuriated, I grabbed Olivia Schmidt’s collar. “You know best whether I’m a mistress or not. Tell everyone…” A flicker of shame finally crossed Olivia Schmidt’s face. Just as she was about to speak, my phone chimed with a notification. Jay Cloud, seeing it, immediately became excited as if he’d discovered a new continent. He snatched my phone, showing it off like a treasure. It was a message Katherine Hayes had just sent— “I’ll pick you up at your place tomorrow morning, and bring you breakfast.” She had added me on an anonymous account, so no one recognized her, and they immediately began to speculate maliciously. “Turns out he’s the most diligent old home-wrecker; they’ve already scheduled a meeting. No wonder he was in such a hurry to resign!” Even the netizens who had been defending me earlier were now furious. “So he really is a shameless, freeloading leech, how disgusting!” Just as I was about to explain, Olivia Schmidt, her eyes bloodshot, slapped me to the ground. “Ethan Borges, and I was just about to speak up for you! Turns out you really are that cheap! No wonder you were so determined to leave me; you were really going to climb into another woman’s bed! Our company doesn’t want a slut like you!” The others surrounded me, their faces grim. “Your private life is a mess, you bully colleagues, and now the whole internet despises you, disgracing the company! Even if you leave today, you have to bow down and apologize to us, or you won’t step foot out that door!” Before I could react, they kicked me in the back of the knee, sending me crashing to the ground. Someone grabbed my hair, slamming my head against the floor, instantly leaving me with a bleeding scalp. Jay Cloud, triumphant, pinched my chin, whispering in my ear, “You trash, daring to fight me for a woman! You old man deserves a lesson!” Seeing my face covered in blood, Olivia Schmidt finally regained her composure. She grabbed me and threw me into the elevator, threatening me in a furious whisper. “Get home and wait for me immediately! If you dare to bring up divorce again, just wait until I get back and deal with you!” But as the elevator doors closed, Jay Cloud’s whining voice drifted from outside. “CEO Schmidt, you promised to spend quality time with me tonight. Don’t go back on your word!” Olivia Schmidt’s tone immediately softened. “Of course. When have I ever not kept my word when you asked?” Remembering all the important dates she had missed over the past year, I smiled bitterly, wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth. That night, she didn’t come home, and neither did I. The next morning, at the East Coast bid site, Olivia Schmidt, with a hickey on her neck, looked somewhat satisfied to see me appear with a bandaged wound. “I knew it. You must have stayed up all night working on the bidding proposal to win my heart back.” She leaned closer, sighing softly. “Alright, I didn’t go home last night to appease Jay for you. Seeing your good performance today, I’ll go back with you tonight. Consider it a company perk. Satisfied?” Jay Cloud, however, looked indignant when he saw me. “So you still can’t let go of CEO Schmidt. At your age, can’t you have some dignity?” The media, knowing I had been trending yesterday, immediately surrounded me with challenging questions. “You’re being called a slut by the entire industry, and you still have the nerve to show up? Have you no pride left for money?” “Did your new sugar mama dump you after watching the live stream and seeing how ‘dirty’ you are, so now you’re looking for a new woman?” “Or are you here to try and win CEO Schmidt back? Is being a simp really that much fun?” I, however, walked straight through their microphones and handed the bid proposal to the client. “The latest technology you asked for is all here. You don’t need to look at anyone else’s.” The East Coast representative was startled. After flipping through a few pages, he excitedly shook my hand. “We knew it! Wherever Mr. Borges is, that company has divine assistance!” Olivia Schmidt, seeing this, immediately bowed triumphantly to the media, boasting about her experience under the flashing lights. “Taming a man is as simple as training a dog; that’s how you unleash his full potential…” She then provocatively raised her chin at Katherine Hayes, her biggest rival. “Next time we’re around, don’t bother showing up! Today, you’ll learn who the king of this industry is!” Katherine Hayes simply smiled faintly and pointed to the stage. “How about you listen again?” The next second, the East Coast representative solemnly announced the result, leaving Olivia Schmidt stunned— “The winning bidder for this project is—of course, Hayes Group, with a tech powerhouse like Mr. Borges!”

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1 I saw the box of condoms in Simon’s bag, and my hands started to tremble. Married for seven years, we’d been sleeping in separate rooms for three. His mother said I was paranoid. His sister rolled her eyes: “My brother works overtime every day; how would he have time to cheat? Are you okay, sister-in-law?” Simon stood by, saying nothing. I didn’t make a scene either. That night, I packed my bags. The next day, I slapped the divorce papers onto his office desk. He froze: “Just because of a box of condoms? I told you, a colleague left it in my car.” “Fine,” I nodded. “Then let that colleague explain it to me.” He fell silent. His entire family took turns trying to persuade me not to be “difficult.” My mother even called: “He doesn’t hit you, he doesn’t curse you, and he gives you all his earnings. What more do you want?” What do I want? I just suddenly remembered that on our wedding night, when he was drunk, he’d hugged me and called out another name. I pretended not to hear. I pretended for seven years. … I’d taken a photo of that box of condoms and saved it on my phone. A pack of three, one opened, two remaining. I hadn’t used them. Simon never had the chance to use them either. It wasn’t that I wasn’t willing; he always had an excuse. Overtime fatigue, too much drinking at client dinners, an early start tomorrow. Eventually, he stopped even making excuses, just showered and went into the guest room, shutting the door. Before I fell asleep, I’d hear the sound of short videos from there, sometimes the same video on repeat several times, sometimes him sending voice messages, his voice kept very low. I never asked him who he was talking to. Asking would only make it seem like I cared too much. When his mother came to persuade me, I was tidying his closet. She sat on the edge of the bed, watching me fold his winter sweaters one by one, her mouth never still: “Honestly, you, living a perfectly good life, insisting on causing trouble. You know what Simon’s temper is like, don’t you? If he were really doing something, would he let you find that?!” I didn’t speak. She continued: “I asked him, and he said it was a colleague’s. The colleague was in his car and left it there. Men, you know, a simple explanation for something like that should be enough, but you keep harping on it. Of course he’s annoyed with you.” I put a sweater into a storage bin and looked up at her. “Mom, what kind of colleague leaves condoms in someone else’s car?” She froze for a second, her expression shifting, then she stood up to leave. At the doorway, she tossed back: “You always want to think the worst. I can’t be bothered with you.” His sister was even more direct. She posted a long message in the family group chat. I didn’t read it all, only scanned the last few lines: “…sister-in-law, don’t be too much. If my brother really had someone else, he’d have divorced you already. Would he need to hide it? Do you think you’re so special?” I left the group. Simon came home very late that night, past eleven. I was sitting in the living room, the TV on without sound. He saw me when he took off his shoes, paused, said nothing, and walked straight to the guest room. “Simon,” I called him. He stopped, not turning around. “That box of condoms, whose was it?” He was silent for a few seconds, then turned. On his face was the same gentle, flawless expression I’d seen for seven years. “I told you, it was a colleague’s. A Mr. Brooks, you’ve met him. The one who sat next to me at the company dinner last time.” I looked at him. He looked back at me, his gaze open and honest. So honest that I almost believed him. “Then have him tell me,” I said. “Right now, call him.” His brow furrowed, that gentleness finally cracking. “Are you crazy?” I didn’t say anything. He continued: “I explained, but you don’t believe me, insisting on making such a scene? It’s just a box of condoms. I didn’t actually do anything. Is it really worth this?” Just a box of condoms. I didn’t actually do anything. I stared at his face, suddenly feeling like he was a stranger. Seven years ago, on our wedding day, he was drunk. In our bridal suite, he hugged me and called out “Ava.” Not my name. I froze, and he froze too. In that instant, his eyes cleared for a second, then he hugged me tighter, mumbling he was just drunk, not to take it seriously. I did take it seriously. But I never asked. Ava, I found out later, was his college girlfriend. They dated for three or four years, broke up after graduation. I’d seen photos: round face, single eyelids, eyes curving into two lines when she smiled. Completely different from me. I thought marriage would fix things. Hearts are made of flesh and blood; with time, they warm up. I cooked for him, washed his clothes, bore him a son, and cared for his mother. The month his mother was hospitalized, I rushed to the hospital every day after work. Even the family members of the patient in the next bed praised my filial piety. He held my hand then and said, “You’ve worked so hard.” I thought he was sincere. Now, looking back, it might have just been politeness. I wrote the divorce papers myself. I found a template online, tweaked a few things, and printed out two copies. He came home early that day, saw the documents on the coffee table, and picked them up to read. “Are you serious?” “Yes.” He put the papers down, sat opposite me, and lit a cigarette. We’d been married for seven years; he never smoked inside the house. “Fine,” he said, exhaling smoke. “What do you want? Just say it.” I looked at him, my eyes suddenly burning. Not with sadness. But with the realization of my own foolishness. He didn’t even try to stop me. “I don’t want anything,” I said. “Our son stays with me. You can keep everything else.” He paused. “You don’t want anything?” “No.” He took another puff of his cigarette, then fell silent. After a long time, he stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray, stood up, and walked towards the guest room. At the doorway, he stopped. “That box of condoms,” he said, his back to me, his voice very low, “it was hers.” I clenched my fingers. “Her name is Ava.” I knew. “We’ve been together for six months. I didn’t mean to hide it from you; I just didn’t know how to tell you.” I closed my eyes. “Is there anything else you want to ask?” I shook my head. He couldn’t see, but he seemed to sense it. He pushed the door open and went into the guest room. The door closed softly. I sat in the living room for a long time, the TV still silent. Later, I stood up and stood by the guest room door for a while. No sound from inside. I went back to the master bedroom and locked the door. The next morning, he left for work. I heard him open the front door, then soft footsteps, stopping at the master bedroom door. He waited a few seconds. Then he left. I stayed in bed until noon, then got up and glanced into the guest room. The blanket was neatly folded. On the bedside table lay the divorce papers, signed. A box of cigarettes was tucked next to it. I picked it up; it was empty. The ashtray was full of butts. 2 The day I moved out, his mother called. I had just stuffed my suitcase into the trunk when my phone vibrated in my bag. I pulled it out; her name. I answered. Before I could speak, she launched into it. “You think you’re so tough now, don’t you? Just up and leave, did you even ask the Campbell family?” I leaned against the car door, looking up at the window of the apartment we’d lived in for seven years. The curtains were drawn. “How has Simon ever wronged you? He gives you his paychecks, never goes out womanizing, just lies around at home—that’s because he’s tired! But you, you find one little thing and cause a scene, making such a fuss that you divorce. How do you expect relatives and friends to look at our family?” I said, “Mom, he cheated.” There was a second of silence. “Cheated on what? He didn’t do anything with that woman, just chatted and had meals. He told me himself. Men, you know, it’s normal to have someone to talk to outside. You’re always at home, controlling everything. He’s under a lot of pressure; what’s wrong with him finding someone to confide in?” I gripped my phone, my fingers a little stiff. “He said they didn’t have sex. Those condoms were bought but not used. You didn’t catch him in the act, so why are you making accusations?” I wanted to say, not used because he didn’t have time to use them yet, right? But I didn’t. It wouldn’t have made a difference. “Alright, alright, if you want to divorce, then divorce. Don’t regret it later. With your temper, who would ever want you?” The call ended. I stood for a moment, then tossed my phone into my bag, got in the car, and started the engine. As I drove out of the complex, the window in the rearview mirror grew smaller and smaller. I didn’t cry. Later, I learned that his mother’s words weren’t just spoken in anger. She truly believed no one would want me. The day the divorce was finalized, I ran into his sister at the registry office. She was arm-in-arm with her boyfriend. They had just gotten their marriage certificate, smiles on their faces. When she saw me, her smile faltered, then she rolled her eyes. “Oh, sister-in-law—no, ex-sister-in-law,” she intentionally drew out the words. “Today’s a good day, we both got our papers.” I ignored her and walked past. She scoffed behind me, her voice not too loud, but just enough for me to hear: “Keep acting up, you’ll end up a two-time divorcee. See who wants you then.” I stopped. Turned to look at her. She seemed a little nervous, hiding behind her boyfriend. I didn’t say anything, just turned and got in my car. Actually, I couldn’t blame her for saying that. The Campbells had always spoken that way. The first year of marriage, his mother and I argued over a small matter. His sister chimed in, telling me, an outsider, not to be ungrateful. Simon was standing there then, and he didn’t say a word. Later, I asked him, “Your sister said I was an outsider, why didn’t you say anything?” He said, “That’s just how she is. Don’t pay her any mind.” I said, “Then what am I?” He looked at me, a hint of helplessness in his eyes. “You’re my wife.” I believed him then.

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The day Ted and I broke up, we tore each other apart, leaving no shred of dignity. He’d spat, “Selfish and cold, no wonder your family’s all gone.” I’d shot back, “A spineless wimp, a grown-up baby, destined for failure your entire life.” We were young then, our love and hatred equally fierce, our words like knives, seeking out each other’s weakest points to stab. Three years had flown by since then. He was successful, already a bestselling author. He had a new girlfriend by his side. And I… I had already been dead for three years. The Reaper asked if I had any wishes. I thought seriously, then politely inquired, “Could I be Cassandra Miller for a few days?” She was Ted’s current girlfriend, and his fiancée. I wanted to see for myself how he truly loved someone. 1. Perhaps my wish was too outrageous, for even the Reaper fell into a long silence. He asked me in a calm tone, “You ghosts, once you’re dead, you’re dead. Why do you always hold on?” I stared at my toes, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment at his words. It wasn’t like this at first. Three days before I died, I’d just had another huge fight with Ted. Over a trivial matter, and over countless past incidents. I’d pointed a finger at Ted’s nose and yelled, “Get out of my sight! Even if you crawl back on your knees like a dog this time, I won’t spare you another glance!” He’d sneered back, “Get out? I will. Eleanor Brooks. I’d rather be a dog than come back to a lunatic like you.” That very night, he packed his bags and moved out of our small rental home without a backward glance. Three days later, I suddenly craved hotpot. I texted Ted on my way to buy ingredients. “Hotpot tonight, what do you want to eat?” A few minutes later, my phone chimed. I immediately opened it. Against our intimate chat background, a line of cold white text appeared. Ted Bear: Talk to me when you’re dead. The next second, a large truck roared past, my phone flew from my hand, and the world spun. Pedestrians screamed in alarm, and I, ever curious, looked around. —Then I looked down and saw my own body. It wasn’t a pretty sight. A bit grotesque. The moment I realized I was dead, a strange sense of satisfaction surged through me. He’ll finally cry this time, I thought maliciously. I’d told him countless times not to talk about death all the time. Now look, he’d actually cursed me to my grave. I watched as my body was taken to the hospital by ambulance, then to the funeral home. The police informed Ted of my death. Silence lingered on the other end for a few seconds, then a slightly hoarse voice asked, “Is this some kind of joke?” He hung up immediately after. The second time the police called, he directly rejected it. It wasn’t until the police showed up at his door that he believed it wasn’t one of my pranks. He opened the door slightly, his eyes shadowed with lack of sleep, and politely declined the police’s request to identify the body. He said coldly, “We broke up. She has a half-brother; you should contact him.” A female officer who accompanied him said, “We’ve already contacted him. He’s also unwilling to come.” Hearing this, Ted raised an eyebrow, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “If even her own brother doesn’t want anything to do with her, why demand it of her ex-boyfriend?” With that, he slammed the door shut. I was so angry I nearly tumbled backward. That bastard didn’t shed a tear for me, and he wouldn’t even claim my body! We’d been together for five years, after all. Finally, with no one to claim the body, I was forcibly cremated by the funeral home. My soul returned to the Underworld. At that time, the Underworld’s reincarnation quotas weren’t as tight as they are now. I happened to get a spot but decided to give it to a little girl who had died of bone cancer. I didn’t want to be reincarnated. If I reincarnated, my memories would be wiped clean, and Eleanor Brooks would completely vanish from this world. Just as Ted had said, I was selfish, heartless, disloyal, and my tongue was as venomous as a black mamba. I wasn’t a good person. But I still wanted to wait a little longer. Wait for Ted to shed a single tear for me. 2. In the beginning, after I died, I didn’t really have any strong obsessions. I did think about Ted. But it was only to see him cry for me. Not to stage some sort of star-crossed human-ghost romance. Besides, the Underworld was strictly managed. Ghosts couldn’t go up, and living people couldn’t come down until their time came. Because of the annual decline in birth rates, reincarnation opportunities became scarce, and ghosts accumulated more and more. For everyone’s mental and physical health, the Underworld developed a software called “Soul Dance.” For a daily payment of ten million Netherworld coins, you could observe one hour of a living person’s life. This living person had to have been closely related to you when you were alive, and their private life would automatically be censored when it involved intimate details. In short, as long as you paid, you could choose anyone you wanted to watch – family, friends, mortal enemies… fully satisfying your voyeuristic desires. Back then, I used Soul Dance to spy on Ted for an hour every day. I knew that when a loved one dies, some people don’t immediately feel grief. In psychology, this is called emotional detachment, a self-protective mechanism of the brain. Ted might be like that. He might not have realized I was dead yet. That I would never infuriate him again, or argue with him, or complain about his dirty socks lying around, or unreasonably ask him why he didn’t pour me a hot drink when I had my period. It was okay, I could wait for him. I waited for him for half a year. Until he got a new girlfriend. His new girlfriend was very different from me. I was a programmer working nine to five, spending my days typing code in front of a computer. She was a member of a top national ballet company, tall and graceful, with a bright and elegant face. When she smiled, her eyes seemed to ripple with charm. She was also a fan of Ted’s books. She wouldn’t, like me, tell him every day that his writing was a pile of garbage. I watched them together, watched her make colorful, nutritious meals for Ted, watched her playfully coax Ted into taking walks with her. The smiles on Ted’s face gradually increased. He seemed like a completely different person, no longer the reclusive writer with zero self-care skills, whom I worried would starve to death at home if I went on a three-day business trip. He learned to do chores, noted her birthday and period in his planner, and even, at her casual mention of feeling unwell, proactively cut ties with an online friend he’d known for over a decade. —That’s when my obsession began to grow wildly. I couldn’t accept it. I hated it to death. Hated that after five years of dating, he’d found someone new just half a year after we broke up. Hated that after my death, he could nonchalantly start a new life, not shedding a single tear for me. And I hated even more that his new partner was so excellent and beautiful, with not a single resemblance to me. It was as if… Eleanor Brooks as a person had been completely negated by Ted. I was like a desperate gambler, clutching Soul Dance every day, desperately trying to find evidence that he didn’t truly love Cassandra Miller. Until I owed Soul Dance a huge sum of money and was kicked out, forced to work for the Reaper to pay off my debt. Only then did I honestly admit that Ted had indeed changed his heart. It wasn’t emotional detachment. It was just that he had stopped loving me a long time ago. After all, reality wasn’t a novel; no one would endlessly pine for a deceased ex. So, it seemed he hadn’t done anything wrong either. 3. The Reaper let out a long sigh, looking at me. A few days prior, the Underworld’s office system underwent a major overhaul, and I had worked overtime through the night to help him fix a critical bug, assisting twelve thousand ‘holdouts’ in their reincarnation. He owed me a favor. But I couldn’t exploit that. I hung my head even lower, saying in a small voice, “It’s okay if it’s not possible.” He said, “It’s not impossible…” “It’s just, out of the options for an Underworld civil servant, a permanent position in the Ministry of the Dead, or a good reincarnation, are you sure you want to choose this?” I said, “I’m sure.” I knew I was foolish, and I knew I had chosen the worst option. But what makes a person human is their inability to always remain rational. The Reaper nodded. He had seen too many lovesick souls, so he wasn’t surprised. He said, “Fill out an e-form, state the reason as ‘visiting family,’ and remember to cc the Head of Ox and Chief Horse.” “Once the e-form is approved, we will send a dream to Cassandra Miller. As long as she agrees, you can use her body to live in the mortal world for seven days.” …The entire process was so formal it felt absurd. My mouth tasted bitter, and I asked softly, “What if she doesn’t agree?” Such a bizarre and ridiculous request. The Reaper said, “Then you’ll just have to choose one of the three options above.” I returned to my dwelling. For three years in the Netherworld, I had lived by the River Styx, sharing a home with the ferrywoman. She was brewing her soup. Seeing my gloomy expression, she asked the reason, then offered comfort. “The human heart is very complex. From what I see, Ms. Miller might not refuse.” I asked, “Why?” She uttered a few words: “To make you completely give up hope.” The wind along the River Styx was exceptionally sharp, occasionally mingled with the wails of resentful souls. I remained silent, lowering my head to help her with the soup. Three days later, the Reaper’s secretary came to find me. “Cassandra Miller’s dance troupe is currently on tour in Norway. The boss wants me to give you access to study her behavior and mannerisms, so you don’t give yourself away the moment you take over.” I asked, “She agreed?” The secretary shook his head. “Don’t rush, the review officer is on leave. The dream-sending procedure is still ongoing, but you’ll definitely get an answer within two weeks.” I was used to it. The Underworld’s efficiency had always been low, otherwise, it wouldn’t have accumulated over a hundred thousand ‘holdout’ ghosts unable to reincarnate. I followed the secretary to the Rebirth Passage, watching him input a sequence number into his tablet. A sudden fear struck me. What was I doing? Why was I going to meet Ted as Cassandra Miller, turning myself into a clown? And even if I did meet him, what then? Would I confront him and yell at him, or would I sit down and finish that hotpot we never got to eat? I felt timid. I was about to tell the secretary I wanted to change my wish. Before I could open my mouth, he looked up and gently pushed my back. The world spun. When I opened my eyes again, the streets were pristine, traffic flowed slowly, and shop windows gleamed. Unfamiliar faces passed by me, speaking words I didn’t understand. Oslo, Norway. Cassandra Miller appeared clearly in my sight, no more than a meter away from me. 4. She was beautiful. Her hair was raven black, her eyelashes long, and two dimples graced her cheeks, promising a smile before she spoke. Her years of dance training gave her an exceptionally distinct aura. At this moment, she was wearing a bright red down jacket and a fluffy white hat, smiling and talking to her companions. I felt a moment of unreality. “Tomorrow, let’s try that Korean restaurant downtown, I heard it has really high ratings on Google Maps.” “We have another performance the day after tomorrow, aren’t you afraid of gaining weight?” “Oh, just a little bit!” They giggled as they passed by me, bringing with them a vibrant, living scent. It was as if an invisible thread pulled me, making me unconsciously move closer to Cassandra. “Cassandra, when we go back home next week, will your boyfriend pick you up?” Cassandra pursed her lips, a faint smile on her face. “He probably will.” One of her female friends teased, “Can you get the famous author to sign autographs for us then?” “Yes, yes, sign one for each of us! I’ll take it back and show off to everyone.” “Cassandra, I want a personalized autograph!” Cassandra readily agreed, “No problem, I’ll tell him.” I quietly followed behind them, my thoughts drifting back to the past. Back then, Ted had just earned his first royalty check. Not much money, two hundred dollars, enough for us to share a hotpot. We ate until our bellies were round, then stumbled unevenly through the snow-covered streets. As we walked, he suddenly crouched down, using his finger as a pen, and signed his name in the snow for me. His cheeks were red from the cold, but his eyes were bright, and he excitedly said, “Do you think when I become famous, people will fight for my autograph?” I vaguely said yes, pulled him up from the ground, and brushed the snow from his clothes. I told him, “When that happens, sign a bunch for me. I’ll sell them at the fish market.” He smiled and said, “Okay, I’ll sign a whole roomful for you, you can sell them slowly.” —Now Ted was truly famous. But that signature left in the snow had long since melted away. On the third night, Cassandra Miller’s final performance in Norway also concluded successfully. During the curtain call, she circled the stage like a little swan, then gracefully took a bow. The entire hall erupted in thunderous applause. That night, she made a video call to Ted. I didn’t dare listen. As a ghost, I hid on the balcony, staring blankly at the snowflakes softly falling outside. The secretary appeared beside me. “The procedures are complete. The dream will be sent tonight.” I asked him, “Can I change my wish?” He glanced at me, his voice cool as he asked, “Do you think the Underworld is your personal playground? That you can do whatever you want?” I meekly shut up. He didn’t rush off either, but sat beside me, watching the snow outside the window. He suddenly said, “Eleanor Brooks, you’ve become like a rabbit.” Docile, quiet, completely unaggressive. The old me wasn’t like this. Back then, I’d dared to smash a keyboard on my harassing boss’s head, dared to chase away hoodlums bullying Ted with a mop, dared to curse at malevolent ghosts teasing child spirits. But then Cassandra Miller appeared. She made me realize I wasn’t a swan. I was just a rabbit with dull fur, ugly, and utterly without merit. The snow stopped. The secretary stood up. He said, “Eleanor Brooks, I hope the next time we meet, you’ll be a little happier.” He vanished from the spot. I stood alone for a moment, then drifted back inside. That night, Cassandra Miller lay in bed, deeply asleep. Suddenly, her brow furrowed, and she abruptly opened her eyes. Though she couldn’t see me, her gaze landed precisely on the corner where I was. A very complex expression crossed her face. “I agree,” she whispered. 5. I had no idea why Cassandra Miller agreed. Was she a saint? Had she lost her mind? Why would she let her boyfriend’s dead ex-girlfriend possess her body to approach her boyfriend? Or was it just as the ferrywoman said, she wanted me to completely give up hope? Cassandra Miller seemed to have no intention of explaining to me. She probably already knew I was near her. In the days before returning home, she was talking to herself. She chattered about various precautions. “I don’t eat greasy or spicy food, and I only drink purified water.” “After this tour, I’ll have a month off when I get back. I don’t usually like going out, but I go to the practice studio every morning.” “I also have a dog named Lucky, I sent him to a kennel before I went abroad, remember to pick him up for me.” She paused, then added, “Recently, a younger guy has been pursuing me. Help me keep it a secret, don’t let Ted know.” “If he keeps texting, just ignore him. Give him the cold shoulder.” Me: … I boarded the plane home with her. And even took a moment to enjoy the empty first-class seat. After we landed, Cassandra Miller didn’t rush to get her luggage. Instead, she went to the restroom to wash her face and put on makeup. Today, she was wearing a white turtleneck sweater, and she was applying lipstick in front of the mirror. It was a very light shade, like sugared cherry blossoms. I was watching, mesmerized, when I suddenly heard her say, “Ted said he’d pick me up. He should be here by now, I think.” She sounded like she was talking to herself. After putting away her lipstick, she went to retrieve her checked luggage. I knew she was saying it for my benefit. My heart was a jumble of emotions, and I stood frozen for a while, until that invisible thread pulled me, and I listlessly floated behind her. We got the luggage, walked through the dense crowd, rounded a few corners, and crossed a long moving walkway. —Then we reached the exit. My heart pounded like a drum, and I instinctively held my breath. My eyes couldn’t help but scan the crowd of people waiting, yet I was terrified of seeing him the next second. Cassandra Miller was also looking around. Soon, pushing her suitcase, she strode purposefully towards a bubble tea shop on the side. A tall, lean man was waiting in line there. His back was to us, wearing a fitted black trench coat that accentuated his slender waist. She walked up and covered his eyes, giggling, “Guess who?” I stared at his back, my eyes wide. The man, with a hint of helplessness, turned around— In that instant, my soul felt as if it had been harshly tugged by an invisible force. The next second, a warm touch came from beneath my palm. He gently pulled my hand away, saying with a hint of indulgence, “Cassandra, stop messing around.” He called out someone else’s name. But it didn’t matter. After three years, his face appeared clearly before me once again. Deep-set eyes, a high bridge nose, skin as pale as snow, which would flush with a deep blush if kissed. Ted. I couldn’t help but tremble all over. He frowned slightly, released my wrist, and reached up to check the temperature of my neck. “Are you very cold? Why are you trembling?” I stared at him blankly, my throat feeling constricted, unable to utter a single word. I let him pull me away from the queue, and then he pressed a warm cup of bubble tea into my hand. He asked worriedly, “Cassandra, are you okay? Why aren’t you speaking?” “Didn’t you say the performance went smoothly?” I gazed at his face greedily. Although my eyes were sore and swollen, I couldn’t bear to look away. He had lost a lot of weight, and matured considerably. But overall, he was still the Ted I remembered. “I’m fine,” I finally found my voice, a catch in my throat. “How are you?” “Ted, are you okay?”

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End-of-year bonuses were being distributed, and the boss called me into his office alone. He tapped his fingers on the desk, cutting straight to the chase: “Sophia, you’re a key technical asset to the company. For this year’s bonus, I’m giving you three choices.” “First, an apartment in the city center, valued at five million.” “Second, a cash bonus of one million.” “Third, a month’s paid long leave.” I’d dreamed of owning a home in this city my whole life! I decisively declared: “I choose the apartment!” The words had barely left my lips when a flash of cold steel appeared. The boss, Marcus Zane, somehow held a knife, and he just… cut me down. I opened my eyes again, still in the office. Marcus’s voice echoed, word for word: “Sophia, you’re a key technical asset to the company. For this year’s bonus…” Cold sweat instantly drenched my back. I swallowed hard and changed my mind: “I choose the cash!” Another stab, and I died again. The third time I opened my eyes, I looked at Marcus’s half-smile, my voice trembling: “I, I choose a month’s leave…” The knife flashed again, and I was gone. The fourth time I opened my eyes, Marcus was about to speak. I dropped to my knees with a thud. “Boss! What do you want me to choose?!” 1 Across from me, Marcus Zane frowned, then bent down to help me up. “Sophia, why did you suddenly kneel?” I scrambled to my feet, glancing at the clock on the wall. 9:15 AM again. If he hadn’t killed me three times already, I might have actually been moved by his feigned concern for his subordinate. I was shaking uncontrollably. Marcus grinned, a peculiar smile spreading across his face: “Sophia, you’re a key technical asset to the company. For this year’s bonus, I’m giving you three choices. First, an apartment in the city center…” He repeated the three options. “Wait!” I blurted out, interrupting him in a panic. The memory of the previous three lives still stung in my chest. It seemed that to survive, the key lay in how I answered this choice. After much thought, forgoing the bonus altogether should be safe, right? I steeled myself and stated directly: “Mr. Zane, thank you for your generosity. I won’t be taking a bonus this year.” “Uh, I still have work to do, so I’ll just head out…” I turned and walked towards the door, desperate to leave the office. But as soon as I turned, a knife plunged into my heart from behind. As I fell, I saw the blood dripping from Marcus’s knife. He lowered his head and licked a drop of blood that had splattered on his cheek, his lips twisting into a grotesque, sinister grin. Everything went black. I opened my eyes again, back at 9:15 AM. My heart pounded furiously as I stiffly looked up. Marcus sat opposite me. “Sophia, you’re a key technical asset to the company. For this year’s bonus, I’m giving you three choices…” 2 I trembled, succumbing to a wave of despair. All three options were wrong. The fourth time, even not choosing was a dead end. What did he want me to choose for this bonus? Since joining this company, I’d been the first to arrive, the last to leave, working tirelessly, dedicating myself entirely to my tasks. I only took my rightful salary and never actively asked for an annual bonus. Just as I couldn’t wrap my head around it, Marcus repeated that fatal question. I took a deep breath, mustering my courage to look at him: “Mr. Zane, whatever you give, I’ll take. Even if it’s nothing, that’s fine. I’ll leave it all to you!” He paused. This time, he didn’t immediately kill me with the knife. It seemed I’d gambled correctly. Marcus narrowed his eyes, his tone unreadable: “Sophia, the annual bonus is a company benefit for its employees. You’ve generated such significant revenue for the company; it’s what you deserve.” “Every qualifying employee gets a share. Just choose, don’t worry about it. Don’t waste time; others are waiting!” As he spoke, I thought I saw a glint of a knife by his hand. My heart pounded; I had no idea how to choose. Then his phrase, “others are waiting,” abruptly popped into my mind. My heart skipped a beat. Marcus’s secretary, Sarah Hayes, delivered coffee promptly at 9:30 AM every day. If she came in, I could use it as an opportunity to escape. “Sophia! Hurry and choose one, do you want the house or the money…” Marcus’s voice was icy. Cold sweat trickled down my neck, my heart racing. Knock, knock. Two soft taps on the door, like a lifeline I’d seized. I almost instinctively blurted out, “Enter!” Sarah pushed the door open, the aroma of coffee filling the room. “Mr. Zane, your coffee.” Marcus’s words were abruptly cut off, his face livid. I couldn’t worry about that now. With Sarah present, he surely wouldn’t dare to kill me in front of someone else. Seizing this window of opportunity, I abruptly stood up. “Mr. Zane, I’ll step out for now and get back to you about the bonus after I’ve considered it.” As I rushed to the office door, “Ah!” Sarah’s piercing scream echoed behind me. My blood instantly froze. I stopped dead, turning back to see a sight that made my scalp prickle. Marcus’s dagger was plunged into Sarah’s heart. Drops of blood trickled down the blade, crimsoning her white blouse. My mind exploded. Sarah had worked by Marcus’s side for eight years, his most trusted right-hand woman! Her body swayed, then she fell heavily into a pool of blood. I heard her faint voice: “Sophia, run… quick…” Marcus frowned and fiercely stabbed her twice more. Sarah’s body twitched twice, then went completely still. My hand, which had been reaching for the door, fell back in despair. No. Sarah had always been so kind to me. If I escaped now, breaking this death loop, then she would truly be dead. Details of each reincarnation cycle flashed through my mind, and an answer emerged. Perhaps… this was the correct answer to the problem. Before I could even speak it, Marcus’s grotesque face was already inches from mine. “You just said you needed to consider? Then die!” The cold blade sliced across my throat. I died again. 3 Opening my eyes, my first instinct was to touch my neck; my skin was smooth and intact. There was no blood on the floor, no sign of Sarah’s body. The clock on the wall read 9:15 AM. Marcus across from me looked slightly puzzled, then asked if I’d been working overtime. I forced myself to calm down, my hands trembling violently, but I still managed a strained smile: “Yes, Mr. Zane, I had an all-night meeting with overseas clients, so I didn’t rest well.” I responded casually, but my mind was racing. Was Marcus’s purpose in making me choose the bonus merely to find an excuse to kill me? All three options were wrong, and saying “I need to consider” or “I don’t want it” was a definite dead end. This company was the culmination of generations of the Zane family’s hard work. Marcus and I had no grudges; I was his most capable subordinate. Our superior-subordinate relationship was harmonious, with no friction whatsoever. Furthermore, I was the only one in the entire company who could oversee my current project from start to finish. Any slight misstep would lead to astronomical losses, even outright bankruptcy. An answer was gradually forming in my mind. But I needed time to verify its correctness. I took a deep breath, forcing down the surging fear in my heart. Quickly scanning my surroundings, this office was at the very end of the corridor, and the soundproofing was ridiculously good; even if I screamed at the top of my lungs, no one outside would hear. Ten more minutes. Sarah would come in to deliver coffee punctually. This time, I couldn’t repeat the same mistake, and I certainly couldn’t drag her into danger. I subtly slipped my hand into my pocket, preparing to press the emergency alarm on my phone. Empty. My heart suddenly sank as I remembered. In my hurry to get into the office this morning, I had carelessly left my phone on my desk outside. “Sophia, I’m asking you, what do you want for this year’s bonus? An apartment in the city center…” Marcus across from me was still speaking, delivering that deadly question again. I sighed, sliding off my chair onto the floor. Ignoring his words, I started to cry at the top of my lungs: “Mr. Zane, you know I’m an orphan, never had anyone to care for me since childhood. I finally saved up a little money from work, but I haven’t even had a single day to enjoy it…” I sobbed ramblingly, recounting my life from the orphanage to school, from starting work to now. As I cried, I slowly edged towards Marcus’s desk. Marcus tried his best to hide his impatience. “I know you’ve had it tough, which is why the company’s bonus for you is exceptionally generous. Hurry and choose. Once you choose, you can live a good life.” I sneered inwardly. Was a “good life” him sending me to my grave? Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Sarah had arrived. Marcus raised his chin towards the door: “Come back later.” The moment his attention was diverted to the door, I swiftly pressed the emergency call button on the desk. As my finger lifted, I met Marcus’s utterly cold eyes. “What are you doing?” He leaned closer, his figure completely engulfing me, head tilted, a chilling smile on his lips. “Bonus, three choices, what do you pick?” I met his gaze and smiled too. “House, cash, leave—I want all three.” 4 After I voiced my answer, Marcus froze, clearly not expecting me to say that. He said in a strange tone, “A good choice. Too bad, though, you shouldn’t have picked that.” As soon as he finished speaking, he drew his knife and lunged at me. I was prepared, sidestepping to dodge and leaping up to escape. At the same time, Marcus quickly pursued me, closing in rapidly, catching up in a few seconds. Marcus grabbed my throat, and I opened my mouth, biting down hard on his wrist. He cried out, his grip loosening. I seized the opportunity, lunging forward to pick up the knife that had fallen to the floor. However, he spun around quickly, grabbing my wrist, prying my fingers open, and fiercely snatching the knife back. The next second, he raised his hand, aiming for my chest. I desperately dodged. The knife missed by an inch, plunging into my arm, blood splattering. Marcus cursed, kicked me in the stomach, and raised the knife to strike again. Just then, the office door burst open, and two security guards rushed in. Marcus’s hand stopped. Saved! I yelled, “Uncle Robert, Uncle Daniel, help me!” Robert and Daniel were honest and warm-hearted, and they had always treated me very well. They were also skilled in martial arts. Seeing them, I breathed a sigh of relief; with them here, I wouldn’t be killed. The emergency button next to Marcus’s desk led directly to security, summoning them instantly. They stepped forward to help me up. “Mr. Zane, what are you doing?” I shouted at them, “Uncle Robert, Uncle Daniel! Marcus is trying to kill me! He’s a murderer, call the police!” Uncle Robert picked up his phone. “Zane, don’t think you can bully employees just because you’re the boss. I’m calling the police to arrest you…” Marcus unhurriedly leaned back in his executive chair. “Uncle Robert, Uncle Daniel, what do you want for this year’s bonus? I have three options…” As he spoke, my arm was suddenly gripped tight. Robert and Daniel held me firmly from behind. Their strength was terrifying; with a crack, my bone was snapped. The pain made my vision go black, but I gritted my teeth and turned my head. Uncle Daniel’s face was streaked with tears. “I’m sorry, Sophia. If you don’t die, we will.” But why?! Why were they so afraid when they heard that question? And why did I have to die? Marcus rose, a cruel grin on his face, stepping towards me. Just as the knife tip was about to slice my throat, the office door was pushed open again. “Mr. Zane, your coffee…” Sarah stood at the doorway, holding a cup of coffee. Her eyes swept over everything in the room, and the coffee cup in her hand clattered to the floor. She froze for two seconds, then turned and bolted out the door, screaming, “Murder! Help me!” Robert and Daniel chased after her, grabbing her hair, covering her mouth, and roughly dragging her back. I don’t know where I found the strength, but I lunged, biting down on Uncle Robert’s hand, tearing off a piece of flesh. “Sarah, run! Don’t mind me!” Robert and Daniel had to turn their attention to me, but I was too tenacious, allowing Sarah to break free. But she only ran a few steps before Marcus caught her again. Sarah and I were locked back in the office. Marcus’s gaze darted between us, as if deciding who to kill first. Sarah’s shoulders hunched together; I could clearly hear her teeth chattering. I lifted my head, spitting fiercely at Marcus. “Sarah is innocent! Let her go! Otherwise, I’ll haunt you even as a ghost!” Sure enough, he savagely grabbed me. I quickly dodged to the side, avoiding his hand. My ankle twisted, and I slammed hard against the desk. In my line of sight, I happened to see the annual performance report on the table. I finally understood why Marcus was so desperate to kill me, and why he forced me to choose from those bonus options…

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I’m the true heiress. On the very first day of our reunion, my biological mother pushed a bank card across the table towards me. “A million dollars a month. You don’t have to genuinely treat me like your mother. Just put on a good show in front of outsiders, and don’t embarrass me.” I froze for half a second, then immediately dropped to my knees, clinging to her leg as if my life depended on it. “Mom! How can you even talk about conditions with me? We’re a match made in heaven, anyone who tries to break us up will face karmic retribution!” Her brow furrowed. “…Don’t say such things.” I instantly corrected myself. “I get it, I get it, low-key. We’ll just call it a family subsidy, and I’ll take it.” Twelve million a year… Forget playing the loving daughter, I’d even call the fake heiress ‘sister’ with more sweetness than anyone else. 1. My knees ached, the marble floor was unforgivingly hard. But the smile on my face never wavered. Ms. Eleanor White, my recently acknowledged biological mother, clearly wasn’t used to this kind of theatrics. “Get up,” she commanded. “What kind of behavior is that?” I scrambled to my feet. “Right away, Mom. Your wish is my command.” “Let’s get one thing straight,” she settled back into the sofa, crossing her legs. “Cassandra Miller has lived in this house for twenty-two years. She’s delicate, with a heart condition, and can’t handle stress. To the outside world, you’re twins. She’s the older sister, you’re the younger. I don’t want to see any jealous squabbles.” I clasped the card with both hands and tucked it into my jeans pocket. “Don’t you worry, Mom.” I stood ramrod straight, practically saluting. “As long as the money’s there, Cassandra is my true sister. If she wants water, I’ll never offer her soda. If she wants to walk, I’ll never let her sit in a wheelchair. Oh, no, I mean, I’d carry her myself.” Just then, a girl leaned over the banister, looking down. This was Cassandra Miller, the fake heiress who’d occupied my place for twenty-two years. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she looked at me, tears already welling up before she spoke. “Mom… is this… Ms. Brooks?” According to the typical script, I should have been pointing my finger at her and calling her a thief. But I was different. This wasn’t an enemy; this was my personal ATM! If it weren’t for accommodating her delicate feelings, would Eleanor White be paying me such a generous salary? Cassandra bit her lip. “Ms. Brooks, I’m so sorry, I stole your life… If you mind, I can move out…” Eleanor White’s face darkened, she was about to speak. “Sis! What are you talking about?!” I widened my eyes, feigning deep sorrow, channeling the same sincerity I’d used to convince old ladies to buy portable chargers at the train station back in the day. “‘Stealing’ and such, how awful! These twenty-two years, you’ve suffered in this mansion!” Cassandra was stunned, tears clinging to her eyelashes, unsure whether to fall or not. “Huh?” I gripped Cassandra’s hands tightly, my voice brimming with heartfelt emotion. “Sis, just look at you, so thin! The food in a mansion isn’t delicious, is it? Too many rules? Too much pressure? I heard that wealthy people have to learn piano, painting, horseback riding, and attend social events constantly, how exhausting! I’m different, I was out in the countryside feeding pigs and chopping wood, strong as an ox, eating anything with gusto. Only a rough-and-tumble person like me could endure that hard life. You suffering for me all these years, little sister here feels awful about it!” Cassandra’s mouth hung open, unable to utter a word for a long moment. I struck while the iron was hot, turning to Eleanor White. “Mom, see how Sis is being so distant with me? From now on, with me around, no one will ever bully my sister. Sis, you just relax and stay put. Live exactly as you did before, I promise not to talk too much, not to cause any trouble, and never to worry you two.” “Alright. Since everything’s been said, let’s eat.” 2. I’d just picked up my chopsticks when a middle-aged man walked in. This was my biological father, Nick White. Though I called him Dad, he was actually the son-in-law who’d married into the family. The White family was rich, he was handsome – the script back then was likely a poor boy marrying a rich girl. “So this is… the one from the countryside?” He handed his jacket to the housekeeper, unbuttoning his cuffs as he walked over. “Why are you dressed like that? And no manners at the table.” I glanced down at myself. The clothes were from a discount store, not the best, but they weren’t revealing either. Nick White sat down, ignoring me, and instead served Cassandra a piece of fish. “Cassandra, eat more. You’ve looked so pale these past few days, Dad’s worried.” Cassandra glanced at me, then quietly said, “Thank you, Dad. Dad, my sister just got back, why don’t you get her something too?” What a perfectly brewed little drama queen, still stirring up trouble for me even now. Sure enough, Nick White slammed his chopsticks onto the table. “Her? She’s eaten everything under the sun in the village, does she need me to serve her?” “Now that you’re back, you’ll follow the White family rules. Wash off all that country bumpkin grime and don’t go out embarrassing your mother. And that name of yours, what was it again? Rose Brooks? Absolutely tacky.” He waved his hand in disgust. “Go change it tomorrow. I’ve decided, you’ll be Victoria White.” My million-dollar monthly salary included enduring my biological mother’s temper, but it didn’t say anything about tolerating her husband’s bad habits. I nonchalantly took a bite of a rib, then looked up at Eleanor White. Eleanor White seemed not to hear. Got it. Mom hadn’t said anything, which meant this was considered extra duty. I put down my chopsticks and wiped my mouth with a napkin. “Dad, I can’t change my name.” Nick White’s eyes bulged. “What did you say? Talking back the moment you walk through the door?” “Not talking back.” I put on an earnest expression. “While Rose Brooks might sound a bit old-fashioned, it’s the name my adoptive parents gave me. Even though they weren’t always kind, often scolding or hitting me, and making me feed pigs and work the fields, they still raised me for twenty-two years. If I change my name the moment I return, what will outsiders think? They’ll surely say the White family is arrogant, that I’m greedy and forgotten my roots.” I sighed. “I don’t care about being gossiped about. But Mom is different. Mom is a businesswoman, and White Enterprises needs its reputation. What if the media sensationalizes it as a wealthy family forcing their true heiress to change her name, erasing twenty years of nurturing? The stock price would crash, wouldn’t it?” I turned to Eleanor White, looking utterly concerned for her. “Mom, isn’t that right? Losing millions for a bit of false pride, it’s not worth it.” Nick White pointed at me. “You… you’re just twisting words! How does this involve the stock price?” “How isn’t it related?” I feigned surprise. “Netizens nowadays hate the rich. Dad, don’t you go online? Oh, right, you usually just drink tea and play golf, you don’t manage company affairs, so it’s normal you wouldn’t know.” “Enough.” Eleanor White finally spoke. “Rose has a point. A name is just a label, changing it is a hassle. Let’s stick with Rose, I think it’s fine, very down-to-earth.” Cassandra’s gaze at me had completely changed. I grinned at her, then picked up a lobster with cheese and put it in my mouth. This mansion food, it really was delicious. And this kind of ‘easy’ money in the mansion, some people found it hard to swallow. But I was different; I earned my keep, standing tall. After dinner, Eleanor White called me to her study. “You’re very smart,” she said. “Thank you for the compliment, Mom.” I stood dutifully before the desk, hands clasped. “Do you know why I brought you back?” “Because blood is thicker than water?” I asked tentatively. Eleanor White scoffed. “Because Cassandra Miller’s fiancé only recognizes the White bloodline. We need to marry into the Henderson family, and Cassandra is a fake, so the marriage won’t happen. But Cassandra is frail, she can’t handle the abuses of that Henderson heir. So…” “You’ll have to marry him in her place.” Well, I knew it! There’s no such thing as a free lunch. So this was the catch. A high-society arranged marriage, a spoiled rich kid, and a stand-in bride. Isn’t this just another lucrative contract? “I’ll need more money,” I blurted out. Eleanor White paused, then smiled. “Deal.” She pulled open a drawer and slid another card across the table. “This is an adWhite for your dowry. An additional five hundred thousand a month for emotional distress. As long as you handle the Henderson family, I’ll give you half of the White family fortune.” “Mom, you just watch me. Forget a rich kid, I could tame the devil himself.” 3. The next day at noon, to celebrate my return, several extended White relatives were invited for a meal. I didn’t hold back, ready to dig in the moment I sat down. But before I could even reach for my chopsticks, Nick White turned the freshly served dish of premium abalone in front of Cassandra. “Cassandra, you’re delicate, have more of this to nourish yourself.” The Lazy Susan spun a full circle, stopping in front of me with a plate of stir-fried kale. Nick White shot me a glance. “Rose, your stomach is used to simple food. Eating rich food suddenly might upset your digestion. Dad’s doing this for your own good, eat more greens, they’ll cleanse your system.” Cassandra looked troubled and said quietly, “Dad, isn’t this… a bit much? My sister just got back…” “What’s too much?” Nick White raised his voice. “A wild pig can’t appreciate fine grain. It would be a waste to give it to her.” Nick White, seeing that I said nothing, assumed I was intimidated, and became even more emboldened. He poured himself a glass of red wine, swirling it. “Speaking of which, our Cassandra truly has good fortune. Originally, the engagement to the Henderson family was for you, but thankfully you’re frail. That Julian Henderson, tsk tsk, who in the social circles doesn’t know him? Drinking, gambling, womanizing, he’s mastered it all. I heard he has a terrible temper too, he broke a young model’s leg last month.” He took a sip of wine and clapped Cassandra’s hand with a look of relief. “That kind of hellhole, only a thick-skinned country bumpkin is fit to jump into. It’s what they call ‘like finds like,’ trash with trash, a perfect match.” Cassandra’s tears were about to fall again. “Dad, don’t talk about my sister like that…” “Dad’s telling the truth!” Nick White grew more excited. “That kind of rich boy is a complete scoundrel. If it weren’t for that business deal, who in the White family would bother with him? Only an unsophisticated girl like Rose would treat him like a treasure.” I glanced at Eleanor White, who sat at the head of the table. Understood. The face my biological mother couldn’t tear, her biological daughter would tear for her. I stood up. Nick White, in the midst of his verbose tirade, was startled by my sudden movement. “What are you doing? Going to get more food? No manners at all…” I flashed him a brilliant smile. The next second, I gripped the edge of the marble table with both hands, drew a deep breath, and flipped it with a mighty heave. The entire table of abalone, bird’s nest, red wine, and white soup soared through the air in a less-than-graceful arc, then crashed heavily onto the floor. Oily abalone sauce splattered all over Nick White, instantly ruining his bespoke suit. “Ah…!” Cassandra shrieked, hiding in Nick White’s arms. Nick White was stunned, his pointing finger trembling. “You… you… you’ve gone mad! Are you crazy?!” I clapped the dust from my hands, my face righteous and indignant. “Dad! You’ve gone too far!” I pointed at the mess on the floor, my voice even louder than his. “Julian Henderson, who is he? He’s my future husband! He’s a crucial partner for our White family! Here you are, in front of all these people, publicly insulting the heir of Henderson Enterprises, calling him trash and a scoundrel! If this gets out, what if the Henderson family withdraws their investment? What if White Enterprises’ stock plummets? What if Mom’s hard work is ruined?!” I clutched my chest, heartbroken. “It’s fine if I, Rose Brooks, suffer a bit of injustice, even if you made me eat dirt, I’d accept it. But you can’t joke about our White family’s future just to elevate my sister! You’re undermining Mom’s efforts, you’re cutting off our family’s financial lifeline!” Nick White was so overwhelmed by my accusation that he gasped for breath. “You… you’re talking nonsense! I’m your father, what’s wrong with me saying a few words…” “You are my father, but you’re also the White family’s son-in-law!” I took a step forward, my presence commanding. “You’re eating the White family’s food and then smashing the White family’s pot! You’re just taking advantage and then badmouthing them! This kind of ungrateful behavior, I, Rose Brooks, won’t stand for it!” Nick White was trembling with rage, wanting to lunge at me, but he slipped on the oily mess on the floor and fell sprawling, face first. “Enough.” Eleanor White’s voice came at just the right moment. She set down her napkin, not even glancing at Nick White on the floor, merely sweeping her gaze towards me. “If you can’t eat, then don’t. Rose, Julian Henderson has scheduled a meeting this afternoon, go get ready.” I nodded obediently. “Alright, Mom, I’ll go right away. I’ll make sure to dress beautifully, not to embarrass our family, and certainly not to let that fifty million dollar dowry go to waste.” With that, I stepped over my groaning biological father and headed upstairs without a backward glance. Behind me, I faintly heard Eleanor White’s cold voice. “Clean up the floor. And from now on, anyone who dares to speak out of turn at the dinner table won’t eat.” 4. I met Julian Henderson at a private club. The lighting was dim, and the rumored playboy heir was slumped on a sofa, a cigarette between his left fingers, a drink in his right hand, three shirt buttons undone, and a look of utter impatience on his face. “Well, well, if it isn’t the… country bumpkin the Whites dug up?” “I heard you used to feed pigs in the countryside? What, do the Whites think I’m like a pig, so they specifically found a professional to take care of me?” The several hangers-on beside him burst into laughter. I wasn’t angry. I picked up an empty glass from the table and poured myself a drink. “Mr. Henderson, you jest. Feeding pigs means getting up early, mixing feed, and shoveling pig manure – it requires high-level skills. Taking care of you, however, is much simpler. As long as the money is right, you tell me to go east, I won’t go west. You tell me to swat a dog, I won’t chase a chicken.” Julian Henderson froze for a moment, apparently not expecting such bluntness from me. He sat up straight, about to speak, when the private room door was pushed open. A woman in a white long dress burst in. “Julian…” Her voice trembled, her eyes fixed solely on Julian Henderson. “Are you really going to marry this… this country woman?” Julian Henderson’s face instantly darkened. I raised an eyebrow. I knew this one. According to the information Eleanor White gave me, this was Julian Henderson’s ‘first love,’ Sienna Reed. She’d once ditched him, complaining he was irresponsible, and ran off with a jock. Now, hearing Julian was getting married, she’d reappeared, playing the role of the deeply devoted lover. Before Julian Henderson could even open his mouth, Sienna Reed had already rushed towards me. “Ms. Brooks, is it? I know you’re only marrying Julian for money. How much do you want to leave him? A million? Two million?” Two million? Who did she think I was? My current worth was in the hundreds of millions. “Ms. Reed.” I looked at her. “Please watch your words. I am Julian Henderson’s fiancée now, the future Mrs. Henderson, recognized by both our families. You come in here, throwing money around, aren’t you being a little disrespectful to my professional ethics?” Sienna Reed was stunned. “What professional ethics?” I stepped forward, blocking her path to Julian Henderson. “Taking care of Mr. Henderson is my profession. My client… oh, no, my fiancé is currently drinking and isn’t in a very good mood. You coming in here, crying and making a scene, and then trying to insult his judgment with money—are you disrupting my work environment, or are you questioning Mr. Henderson’s taste?” Sienna Reed’s face turned pale with anger. “You… how could someone like you be worthy of Julian! Julian and I have a history!” “A history?” I scoffed, glancing back at Julian Henderson, only to find him watching me with interest, showing no inclination to intervene. I turned back to Sienna Reed, unleashing my full verbal artillery. “Ms. Reed, this ‘history’ thing is too vague, it doesn’t hold its value. You claim you have a history, why did you run off in the first place? Now you’re back, did that jock get tired of you? Trying to come back for seconds? Sorry, but this ‘grass’ is already fenced off. Whether it’s tender or withered, it’s mine, and no one else is getting their hands on it!”

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1 Talent, it just doesn’t make sense sometimes. My mom, a world-class pianist, but my playing sounds like a bag of cotton balls. My dad, an uncrowned king of opera, but I can’t hit a single note in tune. My older sister, she composed a piece at six and had her solo concert at nine. Meanwhile, I was bawling my eyes out because my music teacher mocked me. Even our pet parrot can belt out La Traviata flawlessly. Luckily, this tone-deaf mess is still the family’s darling. I’ve become exceptionally good at just… chilling. On my eighteenth birthday, a young prodigy, fresh off winning the Junior Piano Gold Prize, publicly demanded a DNA test. He claimed I was a fraud, a cuckoo in the nest, and he was the real son. I knew it! I always felt like such an outsider; turns out, there was no blood connection at all! … Ever since I could remember, I thought I was the family’s balance. Everyone else had perfect pitch, but I was the lone discordant note in a symphony of talent—born with absolute tone-deafness. My mom, Rosalind, a genius pianist who debuted at six and won awards at sixteen. She could make a broken, out-of-tune piano sound perfect. My dad, Liam, was revered as a top tenor in both the East and West, once shattering a glass with his voice in a documentary. My sister, Lyra, a born composer, could instantly replicate anything she heard, then improvise on it. And me, Leo, truly unworthy of the ‘Leo’ (meaning ‘sound’ in a poetic way, though not directly in English) in my name. Just as I’d grown accustomed to being treated with affectionate pity, like a disabled loved one, a little hero descended upon us. “Get out! I’m the real Leo! I’m the true son of the Forester family!” Caleb stood at the side gate of our villa garden, one hand clutching the confession of a recently apprehended kidnapper, the other holding his phone, playing a recording from a competition he’d won last month. “The National Junior Piano Gold Prize! Vacant for two years, and I won it! I’m the true member of this family!” He glared, teeth clenched, at me, standing by the fountain, eating cake. For a moment, the cake in my mouth tasted even sweeter. See? I knew there was something off! I was never a Forester by blood! The air in the garden thickened. Dad, who was sipping a throat-soothing herbal tea, preparing to sing, set his cup down, his lips pressed into a thin line. Mom, laughing and chatting with students and teachers, turned, her eyes narrowing slightly. Lyra, seated under a tree, immersed in composition, put down her pen and rose, taking a deep breath. Caleb, assuming everyone was stunned and overjoyed, a smile bloomed on his face: “Dad, Mom, Lyra, that kidnapper snuck into the hospital and stole me away. Then, an unmarried pregnant girl found out, kept quiet, and swapped her own baby in.” “So, the fake Leo is tone-deaf. He doesn’t have our family’s genes at all! Eighteen years of meticulous education, wasted!” Meticulous education? I instinctively recalled being forced to listen to music, practice singing, learn notation, and play piano… until, at age ten, I nearly jumped from a window in despair. Hiss—I sucked in a cold breath. Some meticulousness you just can’t handle. “Great news!” I clapped first, loudly exclaiming, “Since the real son is home, can I leave?” I licked my lips, unable to hide my excitement. “I won’t have to memorize Beethoven’s scores anymore!” “And I won’t have to cry practicing piano every single day!” Caleb froze. Everyone turned to look at me. Dad’s expression softened as he walked over and patted my back. “You little rascal, what nonsense are you dreaming up?” He turned to Caleb, his face hardening. “Son, your so-called evidence requires further investigation. Until the truth comes to light, please watch your mouth.” “Investigation? The confession is right here!” Caleb’s voice was high with emotion, waving his phone, which showed him receiving his award. “I am your son! A musical genius capable of winning a Gold Prize!” Lyra rolled her eyes subtly. “Who doesn’t know that this year’s Gold Prize was a razor-thin win? It should be called the ‘barely-made-it’ award.” Caleb’s lips trembled with anger. But Lyra had won that very award at eleven, with the highest score. I sighed internally for Caleb. Poor kid, do you really think coming to the Forester family is paradise? Everyone here, except me, is a force of nature! 2 Mom immediately arranged for an expedited DNA test. The next morning, the report was out. Caleb was right. He was the real Leo, the Forester family’s prodigal son. And I? Just a little stray abandoned by a misguided girl. Caleb pushed open my bedroom door, triumphantly declaring, “Do you really deserve such a nice room? Get out! It’s mine now!” I swiftly got up and began packing my suitcase. “Alright, I’m out of here!” On the walls were Lyra’s monthly updated scores. It was almost the end of the month, her inspection time. Great, no need to memorize them anymore, haha. “Leo, what are you doing?” Mom walked in and gently placed a hand on mine. “The house has plenty of empty rooms, several of them.” I hesitated. “Uh… the real son wants to live here…” “I’ve raised you for eighteen years!” Mom said firmly. “Both of you are my children. Leo, just consider it like having a new brother in the house. Get along with Caleb.” Caleb gritted his teeth slightly, then forced a smile. “I don’t think we’ll get along. A tone-deaf person might infect my perfect pitch!” I wholeheartedly agreed. Exactly. I knew my own limits perfectly well! Lunchtime arrived. Caleb changed into a custom-tailored suit, looking incredibly sharp. But he didn’t realize that in the Forester dining room, it wasn’t about clothes; it was about something else. “This quail soup is quite good, have some more.” Mom elegantly took a sip, then asked, “Lyra, last night, Lady Serena wanted to replace the original triad with a C9. What do you think?” I nearly choked. Knew it! The music meeting! Lyra wiped her mouth with a napkin before replying, “While triads are simple and common, they’re also the most versatile. A C9 is more relaxed, so I think a concert-exclusive version would be more suitable.” Mom smiled. “That’s exactly what I told her. Pop music is fine for a casual diversion, but don’t forget your main craft. Maestro Carlo is asking about your solo recital again. He even suggested your dad could join…” Dad gave a knowing smile, cleared his throat with a sip of tea, and instantly launched into a segment of a drinking song. I, meanwhile, kept my head down, shoveling food. Ignore me, please, Amen. The next question, however, was directed at a keenly expectant Caleb. “Caleb.” Caleb quickly put down his chopsticks, giving Mom a confident look. “Yes, Mom?” “Since you won a Gold Prize, your musical literacy must be up to par.” Mom tapped the tabletop like piano keys, casually playing a short passage. “How do you think this passage could be improved?” Caleb’s expression froze. He stared at Mom’s hands and the dining table laden with dishes, sweat beading on his forehead. “This… this isn’t a piano, it’s a dining table. How can I tell?” Lyra let out a small snort. “I could understand it when I was nine.” Caleb bit down hard. Mom calmly announced, “It’s not too late to mend the fence. You’ve returned home, so you’ll naturally receive the same education as all Forester children.” My heart sank, and I quickly took a big gulp of hot soup. The Forester children’s education… that was a one-way ticket to hell! Caleb, you can do it! 3 Caleb was utterly confident. After his initial defeat at lunch, he was even more determined. “I’ve missed out on so much progress before!” He clenched his fist and shouted, “If it weren’t for that kidnapper, if I’d grown up normally, I’d be a thousand times more successful than Leo!” “I’ll prove my bloodline!” His cheeks flushed after the outburst. Just then, applause and laughter echoed from above. Caleb bristled, looking around. “Who?! The parrot? Get down here!” The parrot cocked its head, observing him from its perch. Seeing this, I quickly called out, “Flyer, don’t mind him. Keep eating!” Caleb spun around and snapped at me. “Leo! What are you showing off about? I’m the real son of this family! A pet, and I can’t even order it around?” I sighed. Idiot. Didn’t he know Flyer was like a flying hydraulic system? I was saving him! Besides, Flyer wasn’t just any parrot… A moment later, Flyer, fed and content, lifted its head and opened its beak. A familiar song filled the living room. It was eerily similar to the drinking song Dad had sung at lunch. Caleb’s jaw dropped. Flyer elegantly flew over his head, dropping a feather. He spat and brushed off the feather, then asked me, flustered and angry, “Can this bird sing opera?” I shrugged. “Your ears aren’t broken. Dad found Flyer when he was touring in the Southeast. He raised him from a hatchling, and he’s incredibly musical.” Caleb couldn’t believe it. He looked up at the bird, then down at me, his mouth opening and closing. Finally, he broke. “What the hell is going on?!” He shrieked, “Even a bird is a prodigy here! Leo! How have you managed to live peacefully until today?!” I sat cross-legged on the plush carpet, starting a game, and spared him a smile. “I just accept reality, accept myself.” “You’re shameless!” Caleb’s face was beet red, looking utterly disgusted. “You’ve taken my place since childhood, received so much education, yet accomplished nothing! You’re a piece of garbage! I refuse to live under the same roof as garbage and pollute the music!” He ran upstairs to find Mom and Dad. “Dad! Mom! Are you there? I have something to say!” Mom and Dad stepped out onto the terrace. “In the middle of the day, so loud. Don’t you worry about disturbing others? What is it?” Mom’s expression was displeased. Caleb pointed furiously at me. “Mom, now that your real son is home, there’s no reason for him to have privileges that I don’t!” “I want to go to the Conservatory, I want to become your personal disciple, I want to be the rightful heir of the Forester family!” He spoke with increasing indignation, gritting his teeth. “Also, your energy is limited. With a genius around, why bother with garbage?” “Leo is tone-deaf, any further training is a waste. All the lessons, instruments, and practice rooms assigned to him should be given to me instead!” I dropped my game, utterly thrilled. Really? Forester family lessons? For a tone-deaf person, that’s eighteen levels of hell! Music practice rooms? My sister’s domain. Every time I set foot in there, I’d crash and burn! “Yes, yes, give it all to him!” I jumped up and shouted. “Mom, Dad, Caleb is so motivated! Listen to him! He’s a genius; he’s the one who can truly absorb the nourishment of the lessons!” Mom shot me a quick, sarcastic glance. Dad, however, hesitated. “Caleb, are you sure about this? All the courses… they’re quite challenging.” “It’s not hard for me!” Caleb was resolute. “I’m a true genius, I can definitely meet all the Forester family’s demands!” 4 Caleb’s resolve made Dad nod slightly. Mom also smiled, as if she saw a diligently shining raw gem. “Alright,” she agreed. “If both you brothers have no objections, then so be it.” Dad happily said, “He is my son after all, good!” “Tomorrow, you’ll start your studies according to the Red Standard.” The Red Standard? My hand went limp, and the game controller dropped onto my leg. Lyra also looked over with a strange expression. That was the Forester family’s highest-tier training program, reserved for once-in-a-generation talents, intended to cultivate music masters who would dominate an era. Among our elders, only Uncle Arthur had endured it to the end; he was currently in a sanatorium, trying to channel music from the beyond, hoping to summon the spirit of Qin Shi Huang. Caleb knew nothing of this. His heart was brimming with the joy of victory. He lifted his chin high, haughtily telling me, “Do you see? The real thing is real, and a fake is a fake. I am the heir of the Forester family!” “As for you, just wait to pack your bags and get out!” I, filled with anticipation, clasped my hands together, bowing slightly. “Good brother, it’s all on you! Go for it!” I was genuinely sincere. If he couldn’t hack it, I’d probably go back to that difficult life. The next day, at 5:30 AM. The night was still deep when Caleb was woken by the intercom next to his bed: “Caleb! Wake up!” “Time for physical training! One hundred push-ups, one hundred squats, one hundred pull-ups!” Caleb’s eyes were blank, and he instinctively retorted, “I’m a musician, not an athlete!” The intercom replied, “You’ll be performing for several hours in a single concert. How will you manage without good physical stamina? Don’t get ahead of yourself and forget the importance of building a foundation. Hurry up!” Caleb grudgingly got out of bed and started exercising on the small balcony of his suite. Breakfast time. Caleb shuffled to his seat, his legs trembling. However, what awaited him was a thick stack of sheet music. Mom, watching his training video, said, “You only completed a third of your workout. Now, memorize the first piece in this large Spanish scorebook.” “I’ll check before lunch. No food if you can’t recite it.” Caleb’s fingertips trembled. “The first piece is thirty-two pages long! And what are those markings on it?” “Spanish,” Mom said nonchalantly. “Translations always miss some nuances. Master multiple languages, and you’ll be able to analyze the truest intentions of great composers as much as possible.” Caleb held back and held back, but seeing me casually eating steamed buns diagonally across from him, he couldn’t contain himself. “What about him?” Mom was calm and composed. “He’s tone-deaf, so memorizing is pointless. His requirements are lower.” “But you are a genius with perfect pitch. Sheet music is more important than food.” I happily picked up a shrimp dumpling, mumbling, “Delicious! Uh, why are you looking at me? Hurry and memorize it, don’t miss out on lunch!” Caleb’s face flushed red, but remembering his boastful words from yesterday, he remained silent and lowered his head to memorize the score. Today, time dragged on like years for him. Four hours of memorizing followed by eight hours of piano practice, and in the evening, he had to do music analysis with Lyra. At 1 AM, I finished my game and drifted off to sleep. Caleb, clutching a messy score, was sobbing. Mom slapped the ruler onto the table, disappointed. “It’s only the first day! Your sister proactively proposed this dual-track analysis method when she was eight, and you’re eighteen and can’t learn it? You still think you’re a genius?” “No, this is too advanced!” Caleb’s eyes were wide, tears streaming down. “Too advanced?” Mom crossed her arms, speaking coldly. “Leo is tone-deaf, but he never said learning music or notation was difficult!” “You look down on him, yet you’re not even as good as he is?” Caleb’s gaze sharpened. A hypothetical rival was more effective than a ruler. He wiped his face, bitterly saying, “How could I be inferior to him? I’m better than him in every way!” At this moment, I frowned and pulled the covers tighter. Caleb had no idea how outrageous the Forester family’s training methods were. He also didn’t know the greatest use of a slacker like me in the Forester family…

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For five years, I was Sebastian Croft’s mistress. Then, I finally got the promotion. The woman who once screamed herself hoarse, calling me a shameless homewrecker, signed the divorce papers with the stillness of a stagnant pond. Before she left, she asked me a single, weightless question: “Do you believe in karma?” I laughed. If karma was real, I wouldn’t be sitting here, about to become the next Mrs. Croft. She had no one to blame but herself. She’d let herself become a bitter, washed-up housewife, incapable of holding on to her man. Once I had the title, I never slacked. I was relentless with my fitness, my skincare, my regular beauty appointments. Seven years into our marriage, Sebastian was still completely captivated by me. Even the two children she’d left behind, Aaron and Anna, now clung to me, their birth mother a distant memory. I always believed that karma was just a curse whispered by losers on their way out. Until today. From the leather of Sebastian’s belt, I found it. A single strand of bubblegum-pink hair, curled and caught near the buckle. 1 Sebastian always loved my long, straight black hair. Back when we were first together, whenever he was stressed, he would bury his face in it. The faint scent was enough to calm him. He despised what he called “tacky, artificial” hair colors. So, from the moment I was with him, I babied my hair, never daring to dye or perm it. For twelve years, it remained a flawless sheet of black silk. But this strand of hair—a pale, chemical pink—was tangled right where his belt would press against his waist. I could almost picture the position that put it there. “What’s wrong? You’ve been standing out on the balcony forever.” His voice was a low murmur behind me. “It’s windy. You’ll catch a cold.” He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder in that familiar, possessive way. Then he saw the hair pinched between my fingers. Sebastian froze for a fraction of a second. The next moment, his long, elegant fingers deftly flicked the pink strand away. It fluttered to the ground, disappearing into the dusk. “Let’s go back inside. It’s cold.” He acted as if nothing had happened. I remained still, waiting. The silence stretched, but no explanation came. “Don’t you have anything you want to say to me?” I finally asked. Sebastian paused, seemingly surprised I would press the issue. He studied me for a long moment, his tone still infuriatingly casual. “Must have gotten caught on me during a dinner meeting.” “Accidentally?” This wasn’t the first time. I’d smelled perfume on his collar that wasn’t mine. I’d found a tube of hot pink lipstick wedged in the passenger seat. I knew the kind of world Sebastian moved in; there were always women trying to claw their way up. But their attempts were usually so pathetic, so low-class. Sebastian was above that. But now, the evidence was right in front of me, impossible to ignore. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “It seems so easy for trash to get close to you.” “Tsk.” The word “trash” seemed to strike a nerve. He looked down at me, a faint, mocking glint in his eyes. “What’s the matter? Don’t forget where you came from.” 2 I froze, the words hitting me like a physical slap. My face burned. I looked up at him in disbelief, but all I saw was his cool, condescending gaze. In the beginning, we had fallen together. But now, it seemed I was the only one who came out covered in mud. “Victoria, don’t make a scene.” Sebastian leaned in, his breath warm against my ear, but his words were ice. “Isn’t it enough to just be Mrs. Croft?” He let me go and walked away without a backward glance. On the table, the candles on our seventh-anniversary cake still flickered. He’d been on a business trip overseas; we hadn’t seen each other in two weeks. I’d begged for days, and he’d finally postponed a major project to come home for me. A gust of wind swept across the balcony, making the flames dance wildly, threatening to extinguish them. My phone buzzed. It was a message from the private investigator I’d hired a few days ago. Mr. Davies:[Ruby. 23 years old.] [Hired at H Corp three years ago, no interview. Position: Executive Secretary.] [Ms. Vance, H Corp is a subsidiary of Croft Industries.] [Current residence is in the villas over in Eastwood. Phone number xxxxx.] My finger dialed the number before I even consciously decided to. A cheerful, upbeat ringtone filled the silence. I stopped breathing. It was a matching version of Sebastian’s own ringtone. When we first started dating, I had begged him to use a matching one with me. He indulged my every other whim, but on that, he refused. His reason: “Darling, this number is for business, too.” He’d bought me a closet full of limited-edition bags to make up for it. Now, a sweet, feminine voice sang through the phone, over and over. A burning jealousy seared its way up my throat. My fingertips trembled as the call connected. I said nothing. Neither did she. After a few seconds of silence, a soft laugh came from the other end. Ruby’s voice was confident, as if she’d been expecting this all along. “Well? Finally couldn’t take it anymore?” That tone, those words. They were so familiar. Eight years ago, when his ex-wife, Eleanor, had found me for the first time, she’d stormed in, screaming, and slapped me across the face. I had looked at her, then, and smiled. “Losing your composure, Mrs. Croft?” “This look on your face… it’s truly ugly.” “No wonder Sebastian wouldn’t even show me a picture of you.” Eleanor had shaken with rage, the loose skin on her face and body trembling with her. Remembering that twisted, aging face, I glanced down at my own reflection in the dark screen of my phone. My skin was still firm, meticulously maintained. Even in my late thirties, I was flawless. I took a deep breath, my voice steady. “So you were waiting for me? Then let’s talk.” Ruby had clearly wanted to provoke me. My calmness seemed to bore her. “Fine by me.” See, Eleanor? There’s a difference between one Mrs. Croft and another. Even when faced with the same betrayal, I, Victoria Vance, can handle it so much better than you ever could. 3 Unlike Eleanor, who had come at me like a cornered animal, all rage and reckless words, destroying the last shred of pity Sebastian had for her, I came prepared. I had a spa treatment beforehand. I wore the latest haute couture dress. I chose the location: a quiet, atmospheric café. The PI’s file was thorough. Ruby’s life was an open book. She’d latched onto Sebastian when he gave a lecture at her university. She was aggressive. Poor family, a father with a gambling problem who’d done time. She’d had a rebellious phase in high school, running with a bad crowd. Even more low-class than I imagined. But even with all that information, when her face appeared across the table from me, I was stunned. She was an eight-point ringer for Eleanor. She even had the same faint beauty mark under her eye. In my mind, I saw the knowing looks from the guests at my wedding. I heard Sebastian’s friends, who used to privately call me “Little Eleanor.” After the wedding, I had consciously dressed in a style completely opposite to hers, desperate to escape that shadow. But this girl… she looked more like Eleanor than I ever had. A wave of absurdity washed over me. It couldn’t be. Ruby crossed her arms and waved away the waiter. “Just a glass of warm milk, please.” She raised an eyebrow at me. “Cat got your tongue? You’re the one who wanted to talk.” She wasn’t even wearing makeup. Her face was bare, her skin glowing under a simple, loose-fitting cotton sundress. Even her pink hair, a color that should have looked garish and washed-out without a full face of cosmetics, looked effortlessly chic on her. I glanced at my own reflection in the window, at the face that required a full application of makeup to look this perfect. My fingers tightened on my clutch. I pushed the prepared credit card across the table. “There’s five million on this. It’s enough—” Enough for her to lift her entire family out of the gutter. Ruby laughed. “Are you kidding me, Grandma? Is that what you give to beggars?” “Do you have any idea how much Sebastian gives me a month?” For seven years, Sebastian had kept me in a gilded cage. “All you need to do is be happy and be Mrs. Croft,” he’d once said. I rarely got involved in his business, aside from major galas. I knew nothing of the company’s finances or assets. I fought to keep my composure, ignoring the taunt in her eyes. “How long do you think a relationship like yours can last? Ambition is fine, but in this situation, it might not be a good thing.” Ruby burst out laughing. She laughed so hard tears came to her eyes, looking at me as if I were a clown. “Oh, that’s rich… hahaha.” “Victoria, have you forgotten how you became Mrs. Croft in the first place?” After a moment, she straightened up, her hand gently resting on her stomach. “And besides… I’m not like you.” 4 No makeup. The dark roots of her hair showing. The glass of milk. And under the loose cotton dress, a barely perceptible swell. My head spun. No… it’s not possible. Seven years ago, in my first month as the new Mrs. Croft, I had gotten pregnant. When I joyfully told Sebastian, he had looked at my stomach, his expression gentle, but his voice was absolute. “Darling, I don’t want to hurt Aaron and Anna.” “They’ve already lost their mother. I don’t want them to have another reason to hate me.” Aaron and Anna. His twins with Eleanor. Divorcing her, he felt his only failure was to his children. He didn’t want another child with me. After the chemical abortion, as I lay in the hospital bed, Sebastian had promised me, “Aaron and Anna are your children now. Our children.” For seven years, I had honored that promise. I never dared to dream of having a child of my own. And now, Ruby was pregnant. Her sharp laughter was like a poison-tipped needle, stabbing into my heart. The pain was so intense I could barely sit upright. The next thing I knew, the warm milk had been thrown all over her. “Victoria! How dare you!” she shrieked. I looked down at my trembling hand, the empty glass rolling off the table and shattering on the floor. “Get in here! Slap her!” The door to our private room burst open. A large, imposing man stepped inside. When his eyes met mine, he flinched. It was Alex, Sebastian’s personal bodyguard. He had been assigned to me when we first got together. He’d been reassigned four years into our marriage, right around the time Sebastian met Ruby. Four years… The pieces clicked into place, forming a tight, painful knot in my mind. “What are you waiting for? Hit her!” Ruby screamed. The bodyguard hesitated. “Maybe… we should inform Mr. Croft first…” “Alex, are you disobeying me now?” Ruby sneered. “What did Sebastian tell you when he assigned you to me?” I looked up at Alex. He was Sebastian’s most trusted man, with him for over a decade. He knew Sebastian better than I did. What Sebastian valued, Alex valued. His hesitation gave me a sliver of insane hope. I grabbed my purse and stood, my head held high, ready to walk out. But a hand blocked my path. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Croft.” A stinging slap sent me reeling to the floor, my cheek burning. The world went blurry, the sounds around me distorted. I clutched my face, trying to clear my head. Then, Ruby’s phone rang. A familiar, gentle voice filled the room. “Why aren’t you at home? Where did you run off to now?” “Oww,” Ruby whined, her voice thick with fake tears. “It hurts.” Sebastian, who was supposed to be in another country for the rest of the week, appeared in less than half an hour. He meticulously checked Ruby from head to toe, ensuring she wasn’t burned. Only then did his expensive leather shoes turn towards me. “You promised me,” I whispered, looking at his face, searching for a trace of guilt. “You said you wouldn’t have any more children.” Sebastian looked down at me, his eyes cold, as if observing an insect. “I told you,” he said, his voice a soft, terrifying echo of his once-tender tone, “to behave.” “Victoria, if you can’t control yourself… I’ll have to send you to a hospital.”

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On my wedding anniversary, I slapped my sister Summer and she miscarried. Everyone called me a monster. “You must pay for what you’ve done.” My husband Tom and my parents forced me to sign divorce papers, then sent me to a detention center. I was released on Tom and Summer’s wedding day. I didn’t make a scene. I took a train and vanished. … Seven years later. We met outside a rural ER. Tom was there with his wife, who was threatening to miscarry. I was the doctor on duty. “Audrey?” He froze, eyes locking on the scar across my palm. “You…” He trailed off under my calm, detached gaze. “Family, wait outside.” My voice was professional, empty. After the emergency, I explained the aftercare. Tom nodded, distracted. Then he asked, “Why didn’t you come home? We were worried.” A child’s voice cut in behind me. “Mommy, I’m hungry.” Tom stared at the little face—so like his own—and his eyes reddened. “Is she…” 1 Just then, a nurse called for me. I gave Tom a polite nod, took my daughter’s fair little hand, and quickly left. “Mommy, who was that uncle just now?” My daughter looked back curiously. My voice was flat. “A patient’s family member.” “He seemed to be crying, and he kept looking at us.” I didn’t stop walking. “You saw wrong.” The nanny who usually looked after my daughter had an emergency, so I had no choice but to bring my daughter to the hospital. Thankfully, the nanny just called me. Her task was done, and she would be right over to pick up the child. That evening, emergencies kept coming in. I was busy until late into the night before I finally dragged my tired body back to my office. I hadn’t expected Tom to be waiting at the door. I frowned slightly. “Mr. Robbins, is there anything else?” The overly formal address made Tom falter for a moment. “Mr. Robbins, rest assured, Mrs. Robbins’s condition is not serious. After observing her overnight, if there are no issues, she can be discharged tomorrow morning.” My tone was no different from how I spoke to other patients’ families. Perhaps the words “Mrs. Robbins” struck a nerve. I clearly saw Tom’s eyes redden, emotions churning. It was as if he had a thousand words to say, but his lips quivered twice, and in the end, he only managed to say two words in a muffled voice: “Thank you.” “If Mr. Robbins has nothing else, I’m going off duty. If you need anything, you can find other doctors on call.” I nodded slightly, turning to leave. As I passed the nurses’ station, a young nurse gossiped, grabbing my arm. “Dr. Sterling, was that Mr. Tom Robbins, the most famous lawyer in Southwood?” I nodded. “Yes.” “I heard Mr. Robbins has never lost a case since he started practicing. He’s known as a legend in the entire legal world.” “Handsome, gentle, and wealthy. Mrs. Robbins must be so happy. I heard they came this time to pray for the baby in Mrs. Robbins’s belly.” As the young nurse spoke, her eyes were filled with undisguised admiration for Tom and undisguised envy for Mrs. Robbins. I smiled, saying nothing. The current Mrs. Robbins was indeed very happy. She had a loving husband, doting parents, and a baby on the way. She truly had everything. Almost no one knew she was the mistress who took the wife’s place. My phone vibrated, bringing me back to reality. [Sorry, an emergency came up at the company. I’ll be late picking you up.] I subtly curled my lips and replied: [You go ahead. I’ll take a cab home.] Almost immediately after I sent the message, I received a reply: [Be careful on the way. Remember to text me when you get home.] Putting my phone away, I noticed that snow had started to fall outside at some point. I waited for a long time, but my ride-sharing app remained unanswered. “Beep beep!” A car horn sounded behind me. A black Porsche Cayenne slowly pulled up beside me. I recognized it as Tom’s car at a glance. Only because his license plate number was my sister Summer’s birthday. And my birthday was only one day after Summer’s. The passenger window slowly lowered, revealing Tom’s sharply defined jawline. “Get in. I’ll give you a ride.” Looking at the ride-sharing app still spinning, I only thought for a few seconds before opening the back door and getting in, then stating my apartment complex’s name. I was truly tired today and wanted to get home to rest early. And with the sudden change in weather, the scars on my palm and abdomen were aching and itching. Since there was a ready car, why not take it? Tom had a strong sense of territory. I once wanted to put a small ornament in his car, but it wasn’t allowed. Now, the car was filled with Summer’s favorite gardenia scent. Everything in sight was Summer’s favorite pink decor. Seeing me sitting in the back, Tom gave a self-deprecating smile. “Are you really treating me like a chauffeur?” My voice was flat. “Just didn’t want your wife to misunderstand.” The words “your wife” acted like a mute spell. Whatever Tom wanted to say next was swallowed back. The car plunged into a suffocating silence. 2 I said no more, turning my head to look out the window. The changing light outside flashed, and in a daze, I found myself recalling that day seven years ago. The darkest day of my life. It was my third wedding anniversary with Tom. I, away on a business trip, had flown back overnight, wanting to surprise him. Instead, I accidentally stumbled upon Tom and my sister Summer’s affair. They were in my marital home, on my marital bed, engaged in passionate lovemaking. Both were so engrossed that they didn’t notice me standing at the door for a long time. Until Summer inadvertently turned her head. “Audrey!” Summer’s eyes widened, and she shrieked. I thought Tom, caught in the act, would at least be ashamed, if not panicked. But I was wrong. Tom didn’t rush to explain himself to me. Instead, he gently covered Summer with the blanket, hiding the glaring, intimate marks on her body. “You weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow?” Tom, far from feeling guilty, spoke with a tone of blame. At that time, my temper was fiery, unable to tolerate even a speck of dirt. In that instant, resentment and fury almost burned away my sanity. I became hysterical, like a madwoman, attacking them with the most venomous words, smashing everything I could in the room. The room was a mess. Summer, terrified, cowered behind Tom, trembling. “Audrey, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it. Tom and I just couldn’t help ourselves.” Summer’s voice was distinctly tearful. At that moment, her eyes were misty, like a delicate white lotus, innocent and helpless. She was completely different from the passionate, uninhibited woman in bed just moments before. Tom protectively shielded Summer behind him, looking at me with condemnation. “You scared Summer!” “Look at you now. What’s the difference between you and a madwoman?” I also felt like I was insane. I sent photos and videos of Summer and Tom to the family group chat. I wanted everyone to see their ugly faces. Who knew, just as the video was sent, my parents’ scolding calls came in. “Audrey Sterling, have you gone mad?” “Quickly recall those photos and videos! If others see them, how will Summer ever show her face again?” My parents had always favored Summer, ever since she was abducted on the street as a child. She wasn’t found until she was eighteen. To make up for years of absence, my parents were exceptionally indulgent and doting towards her. They even demanded that I always defer to my sister, and that Summer should always come first. Even our birthdays, because mine was only one day after Summer’s, my parents insisted that I celebrate a day early with her. But the birthday cake always had only Summer’s name on it. But I never expected that even in this matter, my parents would unconditionally defend Summer. “You and Tom should divorce.” My sister was having an affair with my husband behind my back. My parents not only didn’t blame her but forcefully demanded that Tom and I divorce. “Why?” I questioned unwillingly. Summer was clearly the one at fault, so why should I give my husband to her? My parents’ bias had no bounds. My chest felt crushed by a huge rock, making it hard to breathe, almost suffocating. “Summer is your sister. As an older sister, you should defer to her.” Apparently dissatisfied with my obvious question, Mom frowned, her tone extremely impatient. I instinctively looked at Tom, at the man I had once loved more than life itself. However, Tom just looked at me coldly, with no intention of explaining anything. Summer leaned weakly into Tom’s arms. “Audrey, Tom doesn’t love you anymore. We’re truly in love. Please, let us be.” “So you know he’s your brother-in-law?” “Do you have any sense of propriety or shame?” Enraged, I slapped Summer hard. 3 Summer swayed, hitting a nearby coffee table. “Ugh—” Summer cried out in pain, clutching her lower abdomen, her face a mask of agony. “Summer!” Tom’s expression changed abruptly. “My stomach, my stomach hurts so much.” Summer’s face was ashen, her voice trembling. Tom scooped up Summer and rushed towards the hospital. As he passed me, his eyes were as fierce as if I had committed some heinous crime. But I knew perfectly well that Summer had clearly thrown herself against it. It was then that I realized Summer and Tom had been secretly involved for a long time and that she was already pregnant. After several hours of treatment, the child still couldn’t be saved. “Are you satisfied now?” Father’s face was flushed red, furious. He raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. This slap, Father used all his strength. My cheek burned, and my eardrum buzzed. However, the physical pain was less than a fraction of the pain in my heart. Everyone blamed me for causing Summer to lose her child, forcing me to kowtow and apologize to Summer. Of course, I wouldn’t agree. The consequence of my stubbornness was that Tom and my parents successively pressured the hospital where I worked, revoking my eligibility for promotion. My imminent promotion thus fell through. They even used this as leverage, forcing me to sign the divorce agreement. Subsequently, I was collectively sent to a detention center by the three people closest to me. “If you do something wrong, you must accept the punishment.” “We’ll pick you up when you realize your mistake.” I smiled bitterly in my heart. Home? What home did I have left? The moment I discovered Tom and Summer’s affair, my home was gone. Once inside, I was maliciously targeted. I ate stale food and drank swill. I also frequently suffered unprovoked beatings… While I was being tortured to the point of wishing for death, my husband and my parents were traveling abroad with my sister. It wasn’t until a month later, when they returned, that they heard I had almost died inside. After a full eight hours of emergency treatment, I was pulled back from the brink of death. When Tom and my parents rushed to the hospital, I had already been sent back to my room. However, seeing me on the bed, emaciated and unrecognizable from the torment, Tom’s first words were: “Do you realize your mistake now?” “Don’t forget you still owe Summer an apology. Use this time to recover and think about how you’re going to apologize to her. Because of you, Summer has been very upset and almost suffered from depression.” Tom’s voice was cold and hard, his tone so indifferent as if I were just an unimportant stranger. They say there’s no greater sorrow than a dead heart. If my heart died when Tom and my parents sent me to the detention center, then after hearing Tom’s words just now, my heart died even more completely. In that moment, I lost all desire to argue. My tone was flat, devoid of any emotion: “I realized my mistake!” I was wrong. Wrong for being blind in love, falling for a cold-hearted, ruthless man like Tom. Wrong for foolishly expecting love from my parents, even knowing their blatant favoritism. Tom occasionally glanced at me through the rearview mirror, several times appearing to want to speak but stopping himself. It wasn’t until the car stopped at the entrance of the apartment complex that I opened the door, got out, and politely said, “Thank you.” Just as I turned to leave, Tom finally couldn’t help but call out, “Audrey!” I stopped, turned around, and quietly waited for him to continue. “Why are you living in a place like this?” “These past few years, have you… not been doing well?” Tom spoke while looking around the neighborhood. The lights were dim, the rickety iron gate rusty. The building exterior was mottled and dilapidated. His eyes were red-rimmed, his voice hoarse: “Do you want me to help you…” “No, I’m doing very well. Thank you for your concern.” I didn’t understand. The man who had been so cruel and heartless towards me, who forced me to divorce him and sent me to prison, why was he now acting so genuinely concerned?

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