Category: English

I was trapped in the mangled wreck of my car after a multi-car pile-up, bleeding profusely, my life hanging by a thread. My husband was the city’s top trauma surgeon, and the leader of this helicopter medical rescue team. As he rushed to my car with an emergency kit, his phone rang. After the call, he glanced at me, covered in blood, then turned to his intern, “You handle this. Iris, Samantha’s daughter, is having an asthma attack. I need to go now.” I desperately clutched at his pant leg, but he kicked me away. “Eleanor, it’s just a broken bone, you’re not dying! Don’t be so dramatic right now!” The helicopter roared away, taking with it my last hope of survival. When I next woke, I saw his Ins post: “My little princess’s asthma is finally calm. Superman Daddy is always here.” I pulled out the IV line from my hand and called my lawyer, “Activate that hidden equity agreement. I want Osman completely out of the medical field today.” The smell of gasoline, blood, and the screech of grinding metal. The multi-car pile-up on the interstate was a scene of utter devastation, like a glimpse into hell. I was pinned in the driver’s seat, the steering wheel pressed against my chest, and a jagged piece of rebar had pierced my right leg. Blood was gushing out in torrents. As my consciousness slowly faded, the roar of a helicopter filled the air above. The rescue team had arrived. I struggled to open my eyes, and amidst the fluorescent-clad rescuers, I immediately spotted that familiar figure. My husband, Osman. He was the chief of trauma surgery at Kind Heart Hospital and the absolute core of this emergency medical rescue. “Osman…” I weakly called out, tears mixing with blood, salty and bitter in my mouth. He held emergency equipment and strode purposefully towards my car. When he saw it was me inside, his steps abruptly halted, and his brow instantly furrowed. “Eleanor? What are you doing here?” He didn’t immediately come forward to check my injuries. Instead, his voice carried a hint of impatience. “Help me… I’m in so much pain…” I trembled, reaching out a bloody hand, trying to grab him. Just then, his phone rang in his pocket. In this race-against-time rescue, he actually stopped and answered the call. “Samantha, what’s wrong?” His previously tense, cold voice softened instantly upon answering the call. From the other end, a woman’s tearful voice was clearly audible, even amidst the chaos. “Osman, please come quickly! Iris is having another asthma attack, her face is turning purple, I’m so scared, I don’t know who else to call besides you…” Osman’s expression changed drastically, his eyes filled with anxiety. “Don’t panic, lay her flat. I’ll be right there!” He hung up and turned to leave. I mustered every last ounce of strength, desperately clinging to his pant leg. “Osman… are you crazy? I’m still bleeding… Where are you going?” He turned back, looking down at me with an gaze as cold as if I were a complete stranger. “Eleanor, can you stop being so dramatic right now? It’s just a leg injury, you’ll be fine!” “Samantha is alone with the child, and Iris is in critical condition. I have to go!” I widened my eyes in disbelief, looking at the rebar piercing my thigh and the pool of blood gathering on the seat cushion. “You call this ‘just a minor injury’? I’m your wife! I’m O-negative, and you’re the only one on site who can perform this emergency hemostasis!” “I said you’ll be fine, and you will be!” He roughly pulled my hand away, then turned and yelled at a terrified intern standing nearby. “Kalman, handle this patient. I have an urgent matter and need to use the helicopter!” “But Osman, she has an arterial injury, and I… I have no experience!” The intern’s face turned pale with fright. “Can’t you even apply pressure to stop bleeding? Useless!” Osman spat out the words and ran towards the helicopter without looking back. I watched as the helicopter stirred up a massive gust of wind, slowly ascending, carrying away my last hope of living. For his ex-girlfriend’s daughter’s asthma, he not only abandoned his dying wife but also unilaterally diverted the only medical rescue helicopter at the scene. Intense pain and blood loss made my vision swim. Just as I thought I was doomed to die there today, a strong pair of hands forcefully wrenched open the deformed car door. “Hold on, don’t fall asleep!” A man in a black outdoor jacket knelt beside me, deftly tearing open my pant leg and expertly applying pressure to my femoral artery. “I’m Douglas from State Hospital. I’m performing emergency hemostasis now. Deep breaths!” It was Douglas, the youngest cardiovascular and trauma prodigy at State Hospital. Before completely losing consciousness, I took a long, deep look in the direction the helicopter had disappeared. Osman, since you chose Samantha. Then it’s war between us.

When I woke again, my eyes were met with blinding white. The VIP room was eerily quiet, save for the rhythmic beeping of the cardiac monitor. “Ms. Julian, you’re awake.” Sitting on the sofa by the bed was my attorney and long-time friend, Gibbs. “How long have I been asleep?” My voice was hoarse as if I’d swallowed sand. “Three full days.” Gibbs poured a glass of warm water, moistening my lips with a cotton swab. “Dr. Douglas performed extreme hemostasis on you at the scene and personally brought you to State Hospital for surgery. You were literally snatched back from the jaws of death.” I lowered my gaze, looking at my right leg, heavily bandaged. “Where’s Osman?” Gibbs scoffed, handing me his tablet. “Your wonderful husband has been quite busy these past three days.” On the screen was Osman’s Ins post from half an hour ago. In the photo, he was dressed in casual clothes, holding Samantha’s daughter, feeding pigeons in the garden of a high-end private hospital. Samantha leaned against him, smiling coyly. The caption read: “My little princess’s asthma is finally calm. With Superman Daddy here, there’s nothing to fear. Peaceful times, grateful for you.” Below it were countless likes and compliments from his unwitting friends. “Osman is such a good man.” “What a happy family.” I looked at those words and suddenly felt a wave of nausea, even my chest ached faintly. Three years ago, Osman was just a struggling doctor whose talents went unrecognized. It was I, Eleanor Julian, who utilized all of the Julian family’s resources, even going against my family, to establish a special medical fund, paving his way to become the chief of trauma surgery at Kind Heart Hospital. I thought I could soften a stone-cold heart, but I never imagined he was just an ungrateful viper. The moment Samantha returned to the country, all his affection and responsibility shifted to her. “Not only that,” Gibbs scrolled the screen, bringing up another document. “Osman was commended by Kind Heart Hospital for his ‘decisive command’ at the car crash scene and ‘timely dispatch of a helicopter to transport a critically ill child.’ He’s now being nominated for this year’s ‘City’s Outstanding Young Doctor’ award.” I almost laughed aloud. Abandoning his severely injured wife and dozens of other casualties at the scene, misusing a public rescue helicopter to pick up a child having an asthma attack, and he’d managed to spin it into a glorious achievement? “What did Kind Heart Hospital say?” I asked coldly. “The entire hospital is covering for him.” Gibbs adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, a glint in his eyes. “After all, Osman is Kind Heart Hospital’s star. That intern, Kalman, has already been silenced. They even altered the rescue records, listing you as ‘minor injuries’.” “Good, truly excellent.” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and when I opened them again, only bone-chilling coldness remained. “Gibbs, get all those things ready that I asked you to prepare before the crash.” “Also, contact Kind Heart Hospital’s board of directors and inform them that the Julian Group Foundation will be conducting an audit.” A hint of excitement curved Gibbs’s lips. “No problem, I’ve been waiting for you to say that. This kind of scumbag, if we don’t make him lose everything, it would be a disservice to all the blood you shed.” Just then, the hospital room door was forcefully pushed open. Jack, Osman’s assistant, poked his head in, carrying a cheap fruit basket. Seeing me awake, he visibly froze, then put on a fake smile. “Ms. Julian, you’re awake? Mr. Osman has been busy with an important consultation these past few days and couldn’t break away, so he specially asked me to come check on you.” I looked at him coldly, “An important consultation? Was it the one feeding pigeons in a private hospital garden?” Jack’s smile stiffened, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead. “Ms. Julian, please don’t misunderstand, Mr. Osman he…” “Get out.” I couldn’t be bothered to listen to his nonsense. “Ms. Julian, actually, I have one more thing to do today.” Jack bravely stepped forward, pulling a document from his briefcase. “This is the hospital’s accident waiver. Mr. Osman said that since nothing major happened to you this time, to avoid affecting his award nomination, he hopes you can sign it to confirm his rescue deployment was reasonable.” I looked at the absurd waiver, my anger turning into a cold laugh. He not only wanted my life but also wanted me to step on my own blood and flesh to elevate his throne. “Nothing major happened?” I snatched the water cup from the bedside table and hurled it violently at Jack’s feet. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room. “Take this trash and go back and tell Osman. He wants my signature? Tell him to come beg me on his knees!”

Less than half an hour after Jack scrambled away, Osman’s call came through. I put it on speaker and started recording. “Eleanor, what the hell is wrong with you?” The moment the call connected, his usual arrogant, accusatory tone filled the room. “Jack went to visit you out of goodwill, why did you throw something?” “Do you know how exhausted I’ve been these past few days dealing with the aftermath of the crash? Can’t you be more sensible and stop being so hysterical!” Listening to his attempt to shift the blame, my heart was surprisingly calm. There’s no greater sorrow than a heart that has given up, that’s probably what it felt like. “You’re tired?” I sneered. “Tired from Samantha’s bed, or from feeding pigeons with her daughter?” A moment of silence on the other end, then his voice abruptly rose. “You’re spying on me? Eleanor, you’re an utterly unreasonable, jealous woman!” “Samantha just returned to the country, and Iris isn’t well. What’s wrong with me taking care of them as a friend?” “As a friend, you need to abandon your hemorrhaging wife and use a hospital rescue helicopter to pick them up?” “I told you, you weren’t going to die then!” Osman roared. “Look at you now, aren’t you perfectly fine, arguing with me?” “Iris is different; asthma can suffocate someone! As a doctor, is it wrong for me to judge who needs emergency care more?” His twisted logic was astonishing. “Osman, have you lost even your most basic common sense?” “A ruptured artery versus pediatric asthma, which one is immediately fatal? Did you spend ten years of medical school learning absolutely nothing?” “Don’t you dare lecture me!” He was stung and lashed out in anger. “I’m telling you, you will sign that waiver!” “This ‘Outstanding Young Doctor’ selection is crucial to me. If I win it, I’ll be smoothly promoted to Vice-Director.” “If you dare to sabotage me at this critical juncture, don’t blame me for disregarding our marriage!” I listened silently to his rant, my finger tapping lightly on the tablet. “What if I don’t sign?” “Don’t sign?” Osman sneered, “Eleanor, don’t forget, the room you’re in, the medication you’re taking, it’s all because of my connections!” “If I stopped your specialized care, do you think you’d recover this quickly? You’d better face reality; without me, you’re nothing!” “Alright, I understand.” I didn’t argue with him as usual, but calmly hung up the phone. Save the recording, package it, and send it to Gibbs. Without him, I’m nothing? He probably forgot who gave him everything he has now. In the afternoon, an uninvited guest arrived in my room: Samantha. She was wearing a designer gown, ten-centimeter heels, and exquisite makeup, walking in like a victor. She was also holding hands with her so-called “near-death” daughter, Iris. Iris held a lollipop, her face rosy, showing no trace of weakness from an asthma attack. “Oh, Eleanor, you really are awake?” Samantha took off her sunglasses, feigning surprise by covering her mouth, but her eyes shamelessly scrutinized my cast-clad leg. “Osman said you were seriously injured; I was so worried. So, as soon as Iris was discharged, I rushed to bring her to see you.” I leaned against the headboard, watching her poor act with cold eyes. “Seen enough? The door’s behind you. No need to escort you out.” Samantha didn’t get angry; she simply pulled up a chair and sat down. “Eleanor, don’t be so upset. I know Osman couldn’t tend to you that day because he was saving Iris, and you’re upset.” “But you have to be understanding of him, after all… Iris is very special to him.” She deliberately emphasized ‘very special,’ her eyes full of provocation. I sneered, “Oh really? How special? So special that he’d abandon his wife?” Samantha’s face froze, then she reverted to that smug expression. “Eleanor, women need to know how to compromise. You’re always so strong, of course Osman doesn’t like it.” “He was complaining to me yesterday, saying he felt so suffocated with you. Only with me does he feel like a needed man.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a whisper only we could hear: “Actually, Osman has wanted to divorce you for a long time. He only stayed with you for your Julian family’s resources.” “Now he’s about to become Vice-Director. Do you think you still have any use for him?” I looked at her gloating face, feeling no anger, only pity. “Samantha, what kind of perfect man do you think you’ve found?” I picked up my phone, shaking the screen to show the active recording interface. “I’ve recorded every single word you just said. What do you think Osman would think if I sent this recording to him?” Samantha’s face instantly changed. She abruptly stood up, trying to snatch my phone. “You tricked me!” “Bang!” The door to the room was forcefully pushed open, and Douglas, in a white lab coat, walked in expressionlessly. He was followed by two security guards. “Ma’am, this is the Intensive Care Unit. Unauthorized personnel are not allowed. Security, please escort her out.” Seeing this, Samantha immediately put on a pathetic expression, tears welling up instantly. “Doctor, you’ve misunderstood, I’m here to visit my sister…” Douglas didn’t spare her a glance, simply uttered coldly, “Get her out.” The security guards immediately stepped forward, grabbing Samantha by each arm. “What are you doing! Let go of me! I’m Osman’s guest!” Samantha shrieked as she was dragged out, even losing one of her high heels. The room returned to quiet. Douglas walked to the bedside and flipped through my medical records. “Recovering well. But your taste is indeed questionable, to fall for such trash?” His tongue was as sharp as ever. I looked at him, earnestly saying, “Thank you, Dr. Douglas. Not just for saving my life.” Douglas closed the medical record, his hands in the pockets of his lab coat, looking down at me. “No need for thanks. I just don’t like people making a scene on my turf. Also…” He paused, a sharp glint flashing in his deep eyes. “Kind Heart Hospital has already sealed your medical records.” “They plan to portray you as a hysterical woman who obstructed rescue efforts to highlight Osman’s heroic image. What do you plan to do?” I curled my lips into a cold smile. “What to do?” “Since they’ve set the stage, I’ll be the one to put on the show for them.”

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That day, at the company dinner, Katie stood up and cut a piece of foie gras. I thought it was for me. Instead, she shot me a cold glare and placed the foie gras on Daniel’s plate, my assistant. A suffocating silence fell over the room. Everyone stared at me, their gazes dripping with contempt. I wasn’t in the mood for this. I pulled out my phone and made a call right then and there. “Dad, you were right. Katie is definitely not the one for me. I’m divorcing her.” Katie’s face instantly changed. She grabbed that plate of foie gras and smashed it onto my head. “Eat it! I dare you to eat it!” “A whole plate, that should be enough to satisfy your petty, jealous little heart, shouldn’t it?” “Jasper sealed the deal with the De Rossi family and brought in a huge investment, and you want to divorce me because I gave him a piece of meat?” As someone who’s always been a clean freak, my mood plummeted. I grabbed a napkin and wiped off the grease. “Not only do I want to divorce you now, but I also want to know exactly how Jasper managed to secure that deal with the De Rossi family.”

Jasper, who I’d just called out, had been smirking, enjoying our marital spat. But the moment I questioned him about the De Rossi deal, his smirk vanished. He hemmed and hawed for a long time, not daring to meet my gaze, as if my eyes could see right through his lies. Katie assumed I was just being difficult, deliberately trying to embarrass Jasper. “William, what exactly are you implying with that question?” “Don’t think I don’t hear the insinuation! Jasper might come from a humble background, but he’s a graduate of a top university, and he’s ambitious and hard-working.” “Unlike you, a kept man who’s living off his wife’s family. No, a total waste of space!” “Calling you a kept man is too kind. ‘Worthless’ is more accurate.” Her words were vicious. All the company employees were there, and she completely disregarded my dignity, grinding it into the dirt. Three years. I couldn’t believe how we’d reached such a hostile, explosive point. We used to be so in love, but ever since the Wilson family grew stronger and Jasper joined the company, our marriage became like walking on thin ice. “Katie, do you really have to be so cruel?” She stopped talking, her chest heaving with anger. The entire room remained silent, nobody daring to speak up. A smile tugged at the corners of Jasper’s lips, but I wasn’t done with him. “You still haven’t answered my question, have you?” Jasper froze, clearly not expecting me to be so persistent. He cursed me inwardly. He glanced at Katie, who was about to speak for him again. “Can you just shut up?” “If you’re eager to die, wait your turn. One by one.” My roar not only stunned Katie but also sent everyone’s hearts racing. Katie remained frozen, mouth agape. She probably never expected me, who had always doted on her, to speak to her in such a tone. Jasper slammed his hand on the table and stood up, putting on quite the show of authority. “William, what right does a measly kept man like you have to yell at Katie?” “You’re a leech, and you’re still not satisfied.” “Since you’re so curious how I got the De Rossi family, the most powerful family in New York, to cooperate with the Wilsons, I’ll tell you: I’m Mr. De Rossi’s son.” “I was trying to keep a low profile, learn from the brilliant and knowledgeable Katie, and make my father proud.” Katie was stunned, amazed at how highly Jasper thought of her. Her gaze towards him was now filled with adoration, simply because he was the son of the famous Mr. De Rossi.

The previously quiet employees instantly erupted. “Wow! Jasper is Mr. De Rossi’s son? That must mean he’s Jonah De Rossi! You’re so incredibly humble!” Jonah De Rossi, the future heir of the De Rossi family. Mr. De Rossi only had one son. And the De Rossi family, with businesses spanning the globe, commanded respect from even the most notorious figures. After revealing his identity, Jasper became utterly arrogant and condescending. “Everyone, please don’t spread this around.” “My identity still needs to be kept secret. My father doesn’t like me being flashy.” “Understood!” “Truly worthy of being the scion of a powerful family. So distinguished, clever, and wise.” Jasper was basking in the crowd’s adulation, clearly savoring every bit of the flattery, but I just kept sneering. “So Jasper turns out to be the De Rossi family heir, huh?” I smiled, wiping the grease from my face with a napkin. Beneath my calm exterior, a storm was brewing. Now, it wasn’t just Katie speaking up for Jasper. “William, what kind of attitude is that when you’re talking to the Young Master?” “Exactly! A mere kept man like you would never be a director at this company if it weren’t for Katie.” People are like that — the moment someone with power and influence appears, you can bet there’ll be plenty of sycophancy and fake loyalty. And a whole bunch of bootlickers to defend them. “Young Master??” I looked at Jasper, my face full of questions. “Are you really Jonah De Rossi??” Jasper didn’t answer directly, but his arrogant, condescending expression gave everyone the answer. He stood up and looked down at me. “William, if I were Katie, I’d fire you immediately.” “Because you’re a completely useless waste of space. You’ve never accomplished anything, yet you’ve hogged the director position. That’s unfair to all the hardworking, ambitious employees.” At his words, some people clapped and cheered. “The Young Master is right! Only you dare to speak up for us ordinary workers!” “We hate nothing more than those lazy deadbeats who hog promotion opportunities.” They all glared at me with unified hostility, directly calling me out by name. As if I was the one preventing them from getting promotions and raises. My emotions remained calm, as if I was playing a game of chess with them. What a joke. Scenes like this are child’s play for me; I’ve been in actual gunfights, for crying out loud! I tossed the napkin to the floor, my mood suddenly souring. I looked at Katie, wanting to know if she felt the same way. Without a moment’s hesitation, she spoke up: “William, did you hear that?” “It’s what everyone here wants — for you to be fired. If you really had any capability, they wouldn’t all be ganging up on you like this.” “You know what I’m getting at for the rest, right?” “I’m not going to disrespect you further; I’ll wait for you to leave on your own.” Suddenly, I smiled. I stood up and pointed to my grease-splattered clothes. “Do you have any idea how expensive this suit is?” “Listen closely. There will come a time when you’ll regret splattering me with this foie gras so much, you won’t be able to afford the compensation.” As I was about to leave, I was met with sneers from the crowd. “Haha, who do you think you are! A useless kept man wears clothes bought with Katie’s money. This suit too!” “Even if it gets dirty, it’s Katie’s problem!” “Isn’t it though?” “If you keep running your mouth and pissing off Katie, she might strip you naked and kick you out in disgrace!” I frowned, my voice dropping by a few degrees. “I have never spent Katie’s money. If we’re going to talk like that, I don’t mind having someone come over and calculate every single cent I’ve spent…”

“Enough! What else can you do besides make a spectacle of yourself?” “Be a man and admit it!” Of course, I’m a man, but I wouldn’t admit that. Because Katie’s entire fortune came from me; she was the one spending *my* money. But if I said it, they wouldn’t believe me. They’d just mock me as a pretentious idiot. My way of punishing people doesn’t involve wasting words; it involves proving it with action. I scoffed, then pulled out my phone and made a call. “Get over here. Katie’s saying I’m just a useless kept man of the Wilson family, a parasite who lives off them without doing anything. Please come and set her straight, otherwise, I’ll make sure the Wilson family loses twenty billion dollars in ten minutes.” The Wilson family’s assets were only fifty billion. I hadn’t even helped them soar higher, aiming for a hundred billion, and she’d already gotten so arrogant. The person on the other end sounded terrified, shouting, “Get the car ready, now!” I ended the call. Jasper looked at me with disdain and contempt. “Heh! William.” “Do you even know what twenty billion dollars means?” “And you’ll make the Wilson family lose that much in ten minutes?” “Katie, just fire him!” “He’s not just useless; he’s a criminal for cursing your family!” My words, combined with Jasper’s prodding, enraged Katie. She looked at me, her eyes filled with bottomless hatred. “William, how dare you treat me like this? I won’t let you get away with it.” “I’ll have my lawyer send you the divorce papers as soon as possible. And please, take off that suit.” “That expensive fabric? You bought it with *my* money, didn’t you?” “Your money??” I smiled meaningfully, looking at her. “You’ve got one thing wrong.” “The clothes I’m wearing aren’t bought with your money. The luxury custom dress *you’re* wearing is bought with *my* money.” “Understand?” At my words, the whole room erupted in laughter. “Hahaha, I’m dying of laughter!” “I never thought he was pretentious before, but now that I see him, he’s not only pretentious but also disgusting.” “Poor Katie, having to live with such a show-off for three years.” As the mocking voices grew louder, a hint of displeasure crossed my face. Jasper clapped his hands, and the room instantly fell silent. He turned to me, adopting his facade of fairness and impartiality. “William!” “No wonder people mock you. Because in our eyes, you really are just a kept man, a live-in son-in-law.” “You clearly spend Katie’s money, and now you’re turning it around and saying she spent yours.” “I’m a fair man. If you can provide proof within an hour that what you’re saying is true, then I’ll get down on my knees and do a striptease for you!” My eyes lit up. This was a challenge that made my wasted time here playing their games worthwhile. I sat back down, looking up at them with a playful gaze. “Just you doing a striptease wouldn’t be very entertaining. It’d be better if they joined in!” Someone slammed a hand on the table and stood up. “William, you’re insulting us!” That person was furious until Jasper smiled and reassured her. “What’s there to be angry about? We’re not the ones who are going to lose.” “What’s there that I, Jonah De Rossi, can’t play along with?” With Jasper backing them, no one was afraid anymore. “Fine, if you can prove you’re not a useless kept man, then we’ll…” “Your figures are so scrawny; what’s the point of stripping?” “If we’re going to play, let’s play ‘bark like dogs’.”

“Barking all the way out into the street.” “Alright, William, then you remember this too: if you can’t prove yourself, then *you’ll* be the one stripped naked, with ‘Worthless’ carved on your face, barking like a dog as you crawl out.” My gaze swept over everyone, and a thought crossed my mind. Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad. Humanity’s greatest weakness often lies in arrogance. I dropped my playful smile and sighed. “Katie, what sustains the Wilson family? It’s the sugar business, isn’t it?” After our falling out, Katie hadn’t given me a single pleasant look. She didn’t speak, but that wouldn’t stop the sugar business from dying very soon. I pulled out my phone and called my people. “The Wilson family’s sugar business seems to be shrinking. Send out word that I will never purchase anything from the Wilson family’s sugar business again. Once they know that, they’ll know exactly what to do.” “Yes, sir!” Some people started scoffing, while others directly cursed me for being overly dramatic. I paid no attention to their irritating chatter. I would systematically dismantle the Wilson family, one step at a time, until they stopped smiling. Katie saw that I wasn’t just unafraid; I was actively sitting down and declaring I’d ruin her business. “William, I was going to let you off easy, for old times’ sake, but you’re just begging for death.” Let me off easy? When had she ever considered that? Insulting me, flirting with Jasper right in front of me, then threatening to fire me. Did she really think I was a pushover? I said nothing, instead taking out a cigarette and putting it in my mouth. Smoke curled around me. Everyone watched, their hearts filled with a desire for revenge, waiting to see my downfall. “William, even with your doom staring you in the face, you’re still smoking? What, watched too many movies and think you’re cool now?” “Let him act tough for a bit.” “He’s probably just using that cigarette to keep himself together.” “Hah, he’s not afraid of death, is he? The Wilson family is, after all, one of this city’s top players…” “In three minutes, Katie will receive a call. It will be from the merchants who regularly cooperate with the Wilson family’s sugar business, all terminating their partnerships permanently.” I interrupted the man’s speech, giving them three minutes to struggle. Those three minutes were also my last chance for them to admit their mistake, but they wouldn’t take it. They continued to ignore my words, still trying to curry favor with Jasper. Three minutes passed. Just as Katie was about to start yelling at me, her phone rang. To further humiliate me publicly, she put it on speaker. “Miss Katie, this is George from Megma Corp.” “I’m not calling to catch up, but to inform you that our partnership is canceled, permanently.” With that, he hung up, delivering a fatal blow before Katie could even speak. Everyone froze, the smiles on their faces abruptly solidifying. Then a second call came in. She thought George had regretted it. But it wasn’t. It was a second merchant canceling their partnership. Then came the third, fourth, fifth… all calling to terminate their agreements. Katie began to panic, and everyone else was equally shocked. I raised my hand and glanced at my watch, speaking nonchalantly. “The sugar business is done for. Next, the stocks.” My words startled them again, pulling them out of their daze. “William, are you behind this?” “But I don’t believe it. He’s just a kept man; how could he have such power?” “But… but everything he said is coming true!” “William, is it really you?” Jasper stared at me, dumbfounded. I looked back at him as if he were an idiot.

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When I was sixteen, my father broke his spine at a construction site. The surgery would cost two hundred thousand, but after scouring the house, we only scraped together three thousand eight hundred dollars. Clutching my withdrawal application, I reached the school gates when Summerville stopped me. She was the quietest top student in our class, sitting right behind me. That day, she pressed a bank card into my hand. “Get your dad treated first. I’ll cover the cost. Don’t even think about dropping out.” I told her I couldn’t repay such a sum. She simply said, “I’m not asking you to repay it. Just get into college.” Later, she sent me living expenses every month, with a note that only read: ‘Don’t give up.’ My father survived, and I got into a top university. She never once mentioned the money. Ten years later, I owned three companies with a billion dollars in assets. And Summerville’s name appeared on a court’s defaulters list. “Former shareholder of a tech company, due to joint liability on a guarantee, owes four million two hundred thousand, listed as a defaulted debtor.” I put down my phone and pulled the bank card, long since filled with money, from my drawer. This time, it was my turn to knock on her door.

“What’s with all the banging? Are you trying to kill me?” The rusty security door was yanked open from inside, its hinges shrieking in protest. It wasn’t Summerville who opened the door, but a bald man, bare-chested with a thick gold chain around his neck, reeking of cheap tobacco. I stood outside, my gaze sweeping past his shoulder into the room. The living room was a mess; beer bottles littered the floor, the sofa cover was ripped to shreds, and “PAY UP” was spray-painted in red on the wall. “What are you looking at? Who are you looking for?” The bald man impatiently flicked his cigarette ash. “Summerville,” I said. “Who are you?” The bald man looked me up and down, his eyes lighting up as they stopped on the Patek Philippe on my wrist. “A relative of the debtor? Perfect. She owes our boss one point two million. Are you here to pay it for her?” I ignored him, turning to glance at Casey behind me. Casey had been my assistant for five years — tough and quiet. He stepped forward, pushed the bald man aside, and strode into the house. “Hey, you damn—” The bald man started to curse, but Casey twisted his wrist and pressed it down. The bald man instantly dropped to one knee on the broken glass, gasping in pain. I stepped over the trash on the floor and walked to the bedroom door. It was empty. The closet doors hung open, not even a hanger left inside, and the bed frame was covered in a thin layer of dust. She had moved out at least a week ago. “Where is she?” I turned, looking at the bald man. “How would I know!” The bald man gritted his teeth. “The court already seized this apartment.” “Our boss forcibly pried it open last week to use as a temporary dormitory. She ran faster than a rabbit!” I didn’t speak. My chest felt heavy, like it was stuffed with wet cotton, a suffocating ache. Four million two hundred thousand. To the current me, it was just half a month’s profit from two of my company’s production lines. But for an ordinary person, it was an insurmountable weight that could utterly crush their spirit. A memory suddenly flashed in my mind. That winter, my sophomore year of high school, Pittsburgh had its first snowfall. I couldn’t afford dorm fees and was kicked out by the dorm supervisor. At night, I could only sneak into the utility room under the school stadium’s bleachers. That night, I had a high fever. My body was ice cold, like I was submerged in freezing water, and I didn’t even have the strength to stand up. Then, the iron door of the utility room was pushed open. Wind and snow poured in. Summerville stood at the doorway. She wore an oversized school uniform, her nose red from the cold, holding a glass bottle wrapped in a towel. She didn’t ask why I was sleeping there, nor did she say anything to pity me. She just walked over and pressed the scalding hot bottle into my arms. Then she took out two packets of fever reducers and two steaming hot savory pastries from her pocket, placing them beside me. “Eat it all,” she said, then turned and walked back into the snow. I held that glass bottle all night. It burned my chest red, but it saved my miserable life. I always remembered that warmth. “Mr. Frank,” Casey said in a low voice, releasing the bald man. “Just had someone check the street cameras. Miss Summerville… she went to the South District.” The South District, a notorious lawless district in Pittsburgh, a gathering place for slums, dodgy businesses, and homeless encampments. I shoved my hands into my pockets, my fingertips brushing the worn, old bank card. “Let’s go.” “Where?” Casey asked. I gave the shivering bald man on the floor a cold glance. “South District. Turn the place upside down. Find her for me.”

By the time the car drove into the South District, it was completely dark. Half the streetlights were out, and the air was thick with the mixed scent of cheap takeout food and backed-up sewers. A Maybach stopping in a place like this was like wearing a tuxedo into a pigsty—extremely conspicuous. But I didn’t care. Casey held his phone, pointing to a greasy fast-food joint ahead, its sign too grimy to read. “Mr. Frank, the informant says Miss Summerville has been washing dishes here for the past few days. Sixty a day, meals included.” Sixty a day. I closed my eyes, my jaw clenched tight. Pushing open the car door, I walked straight towards the fast-food place. Before I even entered, I heard a sharp scream. “Are you blind?! This is my brand-new, limited-edition dress!” A woman’s voice came from inside the restaurant. It was familiar, with that deliberately affected, saccharine tone. I stopped outside the glass door. Through the greasy glass, I saw Summerville. She wore a ill-fitting grey waterproof apron, her hair simply tied back with an elastic band, her face pale as paper, her jawline sharp from weight loss. She was squatting on the floor, holding a rag. On the ground was a spilled puddle of mushroom soup, and standing in front of her was a flashily dressed woman. Ulysses, Summerville’s college roommate, and an employee she had personally mentored and promoted. “Ulysses, don’t get so angry. She didn’t do it on purpose.” A man sat nearby, with slicked-back hair, wearing a poorly tailored custom suit, his legs crossed. Wilson, Summerville’s ex-fiancé. “Wilson, I just can’t stand it!” Ulysses leaned into Wilson’s arms, pouting. “I’m usually not one for drama, but today is our company’s IPO anniversary. And she, a dishwasher, spills soup on my leg? Isn’t she doing this on purpose to annoy me?” She deliberately emphasized the word ‘dishwasher.’ Wilson patted her hand, then looked down at Summerville, who was still squatting on the floor. “Summerville, it’s not like I haven’t told you.” He sighed, his tone filled with nauseating condescension. “You insisted on shouldering that debt back then. Why put yourself in this situation?” “Look at you now. You don’t look like a top university graduate anymore.” Summerville didn’t look up. She meticulously wiped the soup from the floor. Her movements were mechanical, numb, as if she couldn’t hear what they were saying. I watched her slender back, another memory unbiddenly flashing in my mind. During the second semester of my senior year, five hundred dollars in class funds went missing. I was the poorest kid then, and everyone pointed fingers at me, accusing me of theft. Our teacher called me into the office and told me to empty my pockets. I didn’t. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my flesh. Just as everyone was convinced I was a thief, Summerville pushed open the door and walked in. She slapped a physics competition registration form onto the teacher’s desk. “He didn’t steal it,” she said, pointing to the time stamp on the form. “From noon to one PM, he was helping the physics teacher organize lab equipment. Security footage confirms it.” Then she turned to face the pointing students, her voice not loud, but incredibly clear. “Being poor doesn’t make you a thief. If you don’t have proof, shut up.” After school that day, she called out to me by the sports field. No comfort, no sympathy. She just looked into my eyes and said one sentence. “Frank, never bow your head.” But now, the girl who once told me ‘never bow your head’ was squatting on a greasy floor, bowing her head in front of a truly disgusting man. “Where’s the owner?! Call your owner out!” Ulysses was still screaming relentlessly. The owner, sweating, rushed out, bowing profusely. “How dare you hire such an untrustworthy dishwasher? Fire her! Or I’ll make sure you get reported every single day!” The owner looked uncomfortable, then turned to Summerville. “Miss Summerville, you see… how about you take your pay and leave today?”

Summerville finally stood up. She untied her waterproof apron, placed it on a nearby table, and offered no excuses, no pleas. “Alright.” Her voice was incredibly hoarse. Casey whispered behind me, “Mr. Frank, should I go in and clear the place?” “Go investigate.” I stared at the couple inside the glass door, my eyes colder than the night wind outside. “Find out exactly how Wilson got her to shoulder that four-point-two-million-dollar debt.” Summerville left through the back door. I didn’t follow immediately. I needed to first understand who had pushed her to the edge of the cliff. Casey was highly efficient. The next morning, a thick stack of documents lay on my desk. I opened the first page, my fingers involuntarily tightening, knuckles turning white. So that was it. What a dirty trick. Three years ago, Summerville and Wilson partnered to start a tech company. Summerville was responsible for core technology R&D, while Wilson handled external relations and finance. A year ago, Wilson claimed he’d landed a big project that required a loan to expand production capacity. He presented a joint liability agreement for Summerville to sign. “What were his exact words?” I stared at the photocopy in the document. Casey impassively recounted the recorded conversation: “He said, ‘Summerville, I’m your fiancé. Would I ever screw you over?’” “‘This project is a surefire profit. Once we clear this hurdle, we’ll get married.’” I sneered. “And the result?” “As soon as the money was deposited, Wilson transferred the funds to a shell company under various pretexts.” Casey turned a page. “The legal representative of that shell company is Ulysses.” I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. No wonder Ulysses was so arrogant in the fast-food place yesterday. So she was using Summerville’s hard-earned money to play the socialite in front of her. “The company’s funding dried up, and Wilson immediately filed for bankruptcy liquidation,” Casey continued his report. “Because Miss Summerville signed an unlimited joint liability agreement, all the debt fell onto her shoulders. Four point two million.” Wilson walked away clean, re-emerging as a ‘senior partner’ in Ulysses’s company. Meanwhile, Summerville became a defaulter, forced to work odd jobs under the radar. “There’s one more thing, Mr. Frank.” Casey hesitated. “Speak.” “Miss Summerville’s mother was diagnosed with end-stage kidney failure last month. She’s currently at Third Hospital.” Casey placed a payment reminder on the desk. “This afternoon, if the twenty thousand dollars for dialysis isn’t paid, the hospital will stop her medication.” Twenty thousand. Again, it was because of twenty thousand. Time seemed to form an absurd, closed loop. My freshman year of college, my father’s follow-up rehabilitation treatments. The hospital issued an ultimatum. I was eighteen thousand short. I even considered selling my blood back then. Then, a twenty-thousand-dollar transfer hit my account. The sender left no name, only ‘Don’t give up’ in the memo. I knew who it was, of course. That month, I secretly returned to Pittsburgh once. From a distance, I saw Summerville in the cafeteria, eating plain noodles for a whole month. I leaned back in the leather chair, my heart feeling like it was being ripped out. Ten years ago, she ate plain noodles so I wouldn’t go hungry. Ten years later, to pay for her mother’s dialysis, she washed dishes in grime and was still treated like dirt. “Frank,” I mumbled my own name. “You’re such a damn failure.”

Ten years. I’d had countless opportunities to come back and find her. But I was afraid I wasn’t successful enough, afraid I couldn’t stand before her. I waited until I achieved success, but she had fallen into hell. “Get the car ready.” I stood up, grabbing the car keys and the old bank card from my desk. “To Third Hospital.” The hospital corridor in the afternoon reeked of disinfectant. As soon as I stepped out of the elevator, I heard an extremely harsh laugh. Following the sound, I saw Summerville leaning against the wall next to the hospital billing department, clutching a payment slip. Wilson and Ulysses stood opposite her. “Summerville, why do you have to be so stubborn?” Wilson, hands in his pockets, feigned a look of deep regret. “Her mother’s illness can’t wait. All you have to do is sign that declaration to fully relinquish your shares, acknowledging that I was the primary developer of all those technical patents.” He pulled a stack of cash, probably ten thousand dollars, from his pocket. “I’ll consider this money a loan to you. You don’t have to repay it. Consider it me being generous for old times’ sake.” Summerville stared at the stack of money, her fingers trembling. “Wilson.” Her voice was soft, as if a breeze could scatter it, but every word was full of pain. “You stole those patents from my computer when my mother was critically ill.” “You transferred assets, engineered a scheme to saddle me with debt, and now you’re even trying to cut off my mother’s last chance at life.” She looked up, her once clear eyes bloodshot. “Aren’t you afraid of facing consequences?” Wilson’s face changed slightly, clearly embarrassed to be called out in public. But he quickly recovered, putting on his indifferent sneer. “Summerville, you need to speak with evidence,” he lowered his voice, his eyes cold and sinister. “It’s in black and white, your signature is on it. You’re a defaulter now, who’s going to believe you?” “If you don’t sign this waiver today, your mother will be kicked out of her hospital room tomorrow.” “Wilson, why are you wasting your breath on her?” Ulysses swayed her hips, reaching for Wilson’s arm. “I told you, Summerville is just too strong-willed. What’s wrong with compromising?” She turned to Summerville, her face a mask of feigned innocence and grievance. “Summerville, don’t look at me like that. I’m doing this for your own good.” “Wilson painstakingly pulled this money from the company’s funds. Hurry up and take it to pay the bill. Don’t make your mother wait.” Hah! The man was a jerk, and the woman was a total bitch. Summerville didn’t look at her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she reopened them, her gaze held a quiet, stark resolve. She slowly raised her hand, reaching for the stack of money. For her mother, she was ready to bend her back, something she’d never done before. Just as her fingers were about to touch the banknotes, a hand reached out from the side and fiercely grabbed her wrist. Summerville’s entire body jolted. She turned her head, startled. I looked at her, at her gaunt face, at the desperation that hadn’t yet faded from her eyes, and a volcano of rage erupted in my chest. I pulled her behind me, turned, and looked at Wilson. “This money,” I said, my voice low, laced with extreme, suppressed fury, “I’ll pay it for her.”

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After I was diagnosed with stage IV stomach cancer, I booked a one-way ticket to the Swiss Alps. My only wish was to die peacefully in the snow. But I never expected to run into Ethan Miller, my ex-husband of three years, on the summit’s cable car. Three years had passed, and he’d had the tattoo of my name removed from his wrist. As for me, I’d lost all my hair and could only hide my ostomy bag beneath a bulky winter coat. The woman beside Ethan, Chloe Peterson, asked: “Who is she?” Ethan looked at me, his voice flat: “My ex-wife.” Then he added, “Chloe is my wife now. We got married when you were pregnant.” He looked into my eyes when he said it, as if expecting a reaction. But I was long past the point of having the strength for hysterics. I just smiled calmly. “That’s nice. I wish you and your family all the best.” “No thanks, it’ll hurt if you press on the tube.” I looked at the cashmere scarf Ethan offered, my voice barely a whisper. The cable car swayed violently in the strong winds halfway up the mountain. The automated announcement played robotically. “Due to extreme wind speeds at the summit, the cable car will temporarily slow down. Please hold onto the handrails.” Chloe hugged the child in her arms tighter. She frowned, waving a hand in front of her nose. “Ethan, why does this cabin smell so strongly of medicine and antiseptic?” Ethan instinctively shielded his child behind him. He glanced at me, then pulled back the scarf he’d offered. His gaze lingered on my winter coat. Perhaps he thought I’d gotten fat, or just looked bad. His tone was flat, his instructions tinged with a sense of entitlement. “Rory, let Leo sit for a while. It’s his first time in Switzerland.” I was sitting by the window. It was the only spot in the entire cabin shielded from the wind. After a few seconds of silence, I slowly stood up, holding onto the cold metal railing of the cable car. My movements were sluggish. The safety bar was pressing against my ostomy bag and drainage tube. Even a slight shift would pull at the still-healing wound in my abdomen. Ethan watched my slow movements, his brow furrowed. He simply thought I was being difficult. “It’s been three years. No need to take it out on the child.” His voice deepened slightly, laced with a lecturing tone. I didn’t argue. I just moved little by little to the windy spot. Cold air seeped in through the cracks, chilling me to the bone. The cable car jolted violently again. My footing slipped, and I stumbled forward. Ethan instinctively reached out, grabbing my wrist. Even through the thick sleeve of my winter coat, he sensed something was off. His hand stiffened. “How did you get so thin?” He asked in a low voice, a flicker of surprise, which he didn’t even realize, flashed in his eyes. I gently pulled my hand away. Hiding my wrist in my sleeve. “I’m bundled up for winter, you must have misseen.” My tone was calm. He didn’t press further. Chloe had tugged at his sleeve. “Ethan, Leo says he feels a little carsick.” Ethan immediately turned, pulled a thermos from his pocket, and bent down to comfort the child. I leaned against the corner of the cabin, watching the family of three. A sudden cramp seized my stomach. I remembered the first year we were married. I used to suffer from stomach problems all the time back then. One night, I was curled up in bed, drenched in cold sweat from the pain. Ethan, without even bothering to put on his shoes properly, scooped me up and rushed me to the emergency room. He held my hand tightly in the hospital corridor. “Rory, every time you hurt from now on, I’ll be there with you.” But in that same year. Chloe got pregnant with his child. Five years of betrayal, dismissed by him with a casual “I was under too much pressure.” “Auntie, why don’t you have hair?” A child’s innocent voice broke my reverie. Leo peeked out from Chloe’s arms, staring at me curiously. “Are you sick like Grandpa?” Chloe’s face changed, and she quickly clapped a hand over the child’s mouth. “Leo, don’t say silly things.” Ethan turned, his gaze falling on my head, covered by a wool beanie. His eyes held a searching look, and a hint of annoyance. I wasn’t embarrassed. I just lightly touched my bald scalp through the hat. “Because I wanted to see the snow.” I looked out at the vast white snow-capped mountains. “So it didn’t have time to grow back.” A cable car attendant came over, reminding us not to move around freely. He glanced at my pale face. “Ma’am, you don’t look so good. Do you need us to call the medical station at the summit?” “No, thank you.” I shook my head. As we exited the cable car, the announcement warned visitors about icy conditions underfoot. But as soon as I took a step, a warmth suddenly spread across my side. I knew it. The baseplate of my ostomy bag had peeled up from the freezing temperature.

I avoided the crowd exiting the cable car and quickly walked towards the summit’s visitor center. The hem of my winter coat pressed tightly against my side. The warm, seeping sensation became more and more obvious. The wind on the mountaintop was fierce, cutting right through you. The visitor center was packed with people seeking shelter from the cold. A long queue snaked in front of the hot water dispenser. I found the accessible restroom and locked the door. There was no shelf or counter inside. I could only hang my backpack on the doorknob, using my numb, reddened hands to search for my medical kit. My fingers were stiff and unresponsive. As I peeled off the skin barrier, I accidentally tugged at the skin around my drainage tube. Cold sweat instantly beaded on my forehead. Patients with ostomies fear low temperatures the most when traveling. The adhesive on the baseplate tends to fail in sub-zero temperatures. I took a deep breath, cleaning the area little by little with a wet wipe. Then I placed a spare baseplate onto my cold abdomen. The entire process took almost half an hour. I packed the used medical waste into a sealed bag. When I pushed open the restroom door, Ethan Miller was standing in the corridor outside. He was waiting for his child to use the restroom. He saw me emerge, pale-faced, clutching a bag of trash. Chloe walked over from the other side, holding the child’s hand. She openly frowned. “Why is she still so weird?” Chloe lowered her voice, but just enough for me to hear. “She always used to hide away alone, and now she monopolizes the restroom for so long.” Ethan didn’t contradict her. He walked towards me, his gaze sweeping over my slightly hunched waist. “If you’re not feeling well, don’t push yourself to come to a place like this.” His tone sounded concerned, but the underlying message was one of blame. “Coming all the way to the snow mountains to suffer isn’t good for anyone.” I looked at him. He didn’t know that I had no more hospitals to go to. I wasn’t here to suffer. I was here to tie up loose ends for myself. “Got it.” I walked around him, tossing the sealed bag into the medical waste bin at the end of the corridor. Ethan went to the nearby drink stand to buy hot drinks. He instinctively came back with two cups. One he handed to Chloe, the other he brought towards me. “Sugar-free hot soy milk.” He offered me the paper cup. My stomach used to be sensitive, and I couldn’t drink coffee or milk tea. He would always buy me sugar-free soy milk. But this time, I didn’t even glance at it. “I can’t drink any of that now.” Most of my stomach had been removed. Even a small amount of liquid food would cause severe nausea. Ethan’s hand froze in mid-air. He seemed unprepared for my complete refusal. Chloe smiled and walked over, naturally taking the cup of soy milk. “Perfect, I’m thirsty. I’ll drink it.” She linked her arm through Ethan’s, leaning on his shoulder as if to stake her claim. Ethan didn’t push her away. Watching this scene, I remembered when we first got married. He had failed at his startup, and we were crammed into a basement apartment. When the pipes froze in winter, I used a rice cooker to heat water for him to wash his hair. I would be in so much pain from my stomach that I’d break into a cold sweat, yet I’d still save the only bowl of hot soup for him. Back then, he held me and said, “Once I make money, the first thing I’ll do is take you to the Swiss Alps for skiing.” The Swiss Alps were never just a random choice for me; they were our shared promise. Now he was indeed here, but with a different person by his side. “Miss, are you alright?” Martha, the cleaning lady at the visitor center, walked over. She handed me a cup of warm plain water. “I saw you were in there for quite a while. Drink some hot water to warm up.” “Thank you, Martha.” I took the cup, and finally, my palms had a little warmth. The park broadcast began to repeat its announcement. “Due to high winds at the summit today, parts of the North Slope boardwalk are temporarily closed. Please be aware of your safety.” I put down the water cup and walked towards the exit. From behind, I heard Chloe’s coy voice. “Leo, don’t get too close to that lady, she smells like a hospital.” Ethan didn’t say anything. I didn’t look back, just crumpled the one-way ticket in my pocket tighter.

I didn’t take the park’s shuttle bus. Instead, I took the local transfer bus down the mountain alone. A thin layer of snow covered the streets of Pine Creek Town. Following my phone’s GPS, I found a storefront. The sign above the door read: Hospice Support Center. This wasn’t a hospital. It was a place where local community organizations lent medical equipment to seriously ill tourists and seniors. Pushing open the door, the room was pleasantly warm. The volunteer, a girl with glasses, approached me. “Hi, what can I help you with?” She handed me a registration form. “I’d like to borrow a portable oxygen concentrator.” I gave her my ID card. “And a pressure relief cushion, please.” The girl looked at my face, then at the faint outline around my waist. She didn’t ask any questions, just efficiently processed my request. “Please fill in the emergency contact section.” She pointed to a blank line at the bottom of the form. I held the pen, my hand pausing for a long time. A scene from the day of my divorce three years ago flashed in my mind. That day, I accompanied my mother for a follow-up gastroscopy. Outside the glass window of the pediatric clinic, I saw Chloe. She was skillfully filling out her child’s birth information. In the father’s column, Ethan Miller’s name was written. The child’s birth date perfectly aligned with the first year of my marriage with Ethan. I stood in the corridor, holding my mother’s gastroscopy report. It felt like my life had been simultaneously condemned by two pieces of paper. Later, I confronted Ethan. He didn’t deny it. “I was under too much pressure back then, and Chloe and I had a few drinks.” He sat on the couch, his voice terrifyingly rational. “Then she got pregnant, and I couldn’t just let her handle it alone.” I asked him, what about me? He was silent for a long time, then said something that disgusted me to this day. “Rory, you’ve always been strong.” He took my understanding nature for granted, using it as a reason to sacrifice me. He even offered me compensation. A house, shares, savings—anything, as long as I agreed to divorce. He thought money could solve betrayal. I pulled my thoughts back, and wrote a single word on the form: None. The volunteer looked at the word, frowning slightly. “If you’re traveling to the mountains alone, it’s best to have someone who can be reached.” She reminded me softly. I smiled, placing the pen back on the table. After leaving the aid station, I went to the pharmacy in town. “I’m really sorry, the specific model of ostomy baseplate you usually use is out of stock.” The store assistant, Sarah, searched through the shelves, apologizing to me. “We only have this generic type; the adhesive might not be as strong.” “That’s fine, I’ll take two.” I paid the money. Reality is always like this; even being sick doesn’t allow you to have things your own way. The small hotel room was quiet at night. I sat at the small table, spreading out my medication boxes. Only six painkillers were left. Outside the window, the snow was falling even harder. I looked at my blurred reflection on the glass. Hairless, gaunt. I set a time for myself. Before sunrise tomorrow. To reach the birch forest beyond the closed trail. There would be no tourists there. And no one would see my pathetic state.

At four in the morning, Pine Creek Town was still dark. I put on my wig and tied on a thick scarf. My medical kit, painkillers, and the last bit of cash were all packed into my backpack. I didn’t go to the front desk to check out. I just left a note on the table. “Please don’t call the police. You can keep the deposit.” When I pushed open the hotel door, the cold wind, mixed with snowflakes, hit me in the face. Mrs. Gable, the hotel owner, was an early riser, preparing to make porridge. She saw me walking alone out of town, then went to check my room. The note on the table and the oxygen concentrator’s deposit slip made her face change. She immediately called the community aid station. The aid station checked my registration record and found no emergency contact. They could only contact the park’s rescue center as per regulations. The rescue center used my phone’s linked medical emergency card to retrieve an old emergency contact. That number, I hadn’t called in three years. Ethan Miller received the unfamiliar call while having breakfast with his child at the hot springs hotel. Chloe was carefully peeling an egg for Leo. The voice on the other end was urgent. “Excuse me, do you know Rory Hayes?” “She headed alone towards the closed forest trail early this morning, it’s very dangerous there due to high winds.” Ethan’s first reaction wasn’t concern. He frowned, a hint of impatience in his voice. “What is she stirring up now?” He thought I was using this extreme method to get his attention. Just like when I used to throw tantrums and run away from home. Chloe stopped peeling the egg. “Ethan, Leo has a snowmobile reservation at ten.” She reminded him softly, trying to redirect his attention. Ethan hesitated for a few seconds. But he still stood up, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. “I’ll be right back.” Chloe pulled at his sleeve. “Are you going to abandon us to go find your ex-wife?” For the first time, Ethan didn’t explain himself to her. “She’s out there alone in the snow.” He only said that, then strode out of the restaurant. I walked along the edge of the birch forest, the snow already past my ankles. With every step, the pulling pain in my abdomen intensified. I remembered the first time I had a stomach hemorrhage after our divorce three years ago. That night, I was writhing on the ground in pain, and I called Ethan’s number. But it was Chloe who answered. “Ethan’s bathing the baby. Whatever it is, you can call back tomorrow.” She hung up after saying that. In the end, I took a taxi to the emergency room by myself. The doctor asked if I had any family. I said no. From that day on, I never called him again. I leaned against a birch tree and swallowed two painkillers. From the distance, I heard the barking of a dog in the snow. Officer Ben, a rescue worker, scanning the registration photo sent by the aid station, suddenly stopped. He turned and looked at Ethan Miller, who was following behind. “Mr. Miller, you truly didn’t know?” Ethan’s heart sank abruptly. “Know what?” The rescue worker handed him his phone. On the screen was the medical condition note I had uploaded when borrowing the portable oxygen concentrator. [Stage IV Stomach Cancer, abdominal metastasis, post-ostomy surgery, with drainage tube, warning of hypothermia and infection.] In the howling wind and snow, Ethan stood frozen.

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After I caught Ethan and Chloe cheating, I handed him a divorce agreement. He sat with his head bowed, then tore it up after a moment of struggle. “Ten days. In ten days, I’ll send Chloe far away, she won’t be in our lives anymore.” He said it without waiting for my reply, then turned and left the house. So, for those ten days. Ethan took her white-water rafting, mountain climbing, bungee jumping, skydiving—they did all sorts of thrilling things. Until the evening of the ninth day. After packing all my luggage, I accidentally received a video call from my past self, ten years ago. “You’re really me from ten years in the future!” Her bright, sunny face was excited. “So, Ethan and I are married with kids, right?!” A flicker of bitterness crossed my eyes. I walked straight to the balcony. I aimed the camera at Ethan and Chloe, tightly embracing below, unable to part. “This is the result.” Her eyes widened, as if struck by lightning. “This can’t be…” My voice was weary, as if all my strength had been drained. “Sophia, please, don’t marry him.”

On the other end, tears streamed down her face. Sadness and shock poured from her eyes as she kept mumbling. “How could this happen…?” I couldn’t answer her, because even I didn’t know. All I could say was, “You won’t be happy after you get married, Sophia. Promise me, okay?” She wiped away her tears, looking at me with bloodshot eyes. “But he’s not here with me right now. He went to Europe to find an orthopedic specialist to help cure me.” I froze. Right, I almost forgot. At that time, due to a stage accident, both my legs were severely injured, making it difficult to even stand. Ethan, who was even more upset than me, stayed up all night, every night, by my side. He changed my dressings and massaged my legs, sometimes for an entire night. By chance, we learned that there might be an orthopedic specialist in Europe who could treat me. So he left without hesitation. But now… I couldn’t help but touch my leg; it was healed, but we had drifted apart. Even more ironic: “Do you know who the woman downstairs, Chloe, is?” She shook her head, her eyes red like a rabbit’s. A deep pang of pain twisted my lips. “She’s the orthopedic specialist’s granddaughter.” Her breathing hitched. She covered her mouth, whimpering. “So, Ethan fell in love with someone else on his way to save me?” I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t love back then. They reconnected two years ago—which would be five years from your current time.” We fell silent. Just then, the sound of the smart lock unlocking came from the door. I instinctively put my phone behind my back. Ethan looked over. His gaze lingered on my movements, but he didn’t ask anything. His eyes were red at the corners, and he looked somewhat dejected. “Are you satisfied?” A sarcastic curve played on his lips. “I sent her away.” I looked at him expressionlessly. In reality, my hand, hidden behind my back, was digging into my palm, stinging with pain. “Satisfied…” “Ethan, is this marriage just my responsibility? Am I the only one who needs to make an effort?” He yanked off his tie and tossed it casually onto the couch. Leaving a terse “Don’t be unreasonable,” he pushed past me into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. My entire body stiffened. After a long while, I slowly took out my phone again. Sophia on the screen was already in tears. “That’s not the Ethan I know, it’s not…” I couldn’t cry. I wanted to release it all like her, but I blinked and blinked, no tears came, just a dry ache. “Maybe people just change.” Just as I was about to grab my luggage and leave, a rumble of thunder outside heralded a torrential downpour. My phone also received a flight cancellation notification. I sighed. Looks like I couldn’t leave tonight. So I picked up my luggage again and pushed open the guest room door. “You… you’ve been sleeping in separate rooms?” She asked cautiously. My hands paused, then I hid the bitterness in my eyes. “Yeah, we’ve been sleeping separately for almost a year.” She kept sobbing. “But at my time, Ethan can’t sleep unless he’s holding me…” My eyes trembled slightly. It had been so long, so long I’d almost forgotten. The Ethan from before had severe sleep issues; only when I was by his side could he sleep peacefully. So we were never apart. I said softly. “He’s found someone else who can help him sleep now. That Chloe is very skilled in medicine.” After a long silence, Sophia looked at me with red eyes. “Three days. Ethan will be back in three days. And I’ll use these three days to completely give up on him.” I nodded. “Okay.”

The next morning, when I opened the door and walked out, Ethan was already making breakfast. He acted as if nothing had happened. “Up? Come eat breakfast.” I glanced at the food on the table and said, a little tired, “I’m allergic to eggs.” His hand, putting mayonnaise, froze. Then he tossed the toast in front of me into the trash. “I forgot. Go eat out then.” I hummed in response. Just as I was about to turn, Ethan said from behind me, “Don’t you think we’re acting strangely?” “Sophia, we’re like strangers.” I met his hazy eyes and let out a mocking, humorless laugh. “No, strangers at least don’t butt heads. We’re worse than strangers. But whose fault is that? Mine?” The air fell silent. We faced each other, neither willing to back down, neither willing to be the first to lose. Not long after. His phone ringing broke the stalemate. “Okay, Grandpa,” he said expressionlessly. “Sophia and I will be there on time.” After hanging up. He rubbed his temples tiredly, his expression complex as he looked at me. “Let bygones be bygones.” “Tomorrow is Grandpa’s 80th birthday party. Let’s go together; don’t let him see anything suspicious.” I sighed silently. “Okay.” Then I turned and went to the cafe downstairs, my phone still on video call. Sophia hadn’t spoken, so I broke the silence first. “What are you thinking about?” She looked a little lost. “I just never imagined that the future me and Ethan would reach a point where we have nothing to say to each other.” “No sharing, no expressions of love, just blame and resentment.” I paused, saying nothing. The plane tree leaves in the villa area were scattered all over the ground by last night’s strong winds and heavy rain. They crunched underfoot. It was like the sound of him carrying me when I was sick, but now everything had changed. The cafe owner saw me. “Ms. Sophia, back again? The usual? Coffee and a sandwich, no eggs because of your allergy, right?” I smiled. “That’s right.” Even the owner remembers my egg allergy, but Ethan forgot. The next day, he came to pick me up for Grandpa’s estate. I sat in the passenger seat, staring silently out the window at the street view. Suddenly, Ethan spoke. “You know Chloe saved Grandpa’s life back then, right?” I turned to look at him. “What are you trying to say?” He pressed his lips together. “So Chloe is also coming to Grandpa’s birthday party. I didn’t invite her, Grandpa did.” I didn’t know what expression to make. Because I wasn’t very surprised. Suppressing the suffocating feeling like my heart was being crushed, I said hoarsely, “Fine, I have no objections.” Anyway, Only three days left. In three days, the past Sophia will rewrite history. And we won’t have a future. Hearing that, He was stunned for a moment. Then, with an unreadable expression, he gripped the steering wheel tightly and finally said, “Good, no objections.” In my earpiece, Sophia was crying. I had grown accustomed to this cold way of interacting, and I had accepted the brokenness of our relationship. But I knew this was cruel for her. It was like falling from heaven to hell. “How could he do this to you…?” I couldn’t comfort her, I could only stay silent. Not long after. We arrived at the estate. Almost as soon as we got out of the car, a delicate figure rushed over from a distance. “Ethan…” “I thought we’d never see each other again.” She was crying too, and Ethan comforted her. He completely disregarded the onlookers, gently wiping away her tears. “Don’t cry. Since you’re back, I won’t let anyone send you away again.” I said sarcastically, “Do whatever you want. I won’t object. Don’t make me sound like some executioner breaking up lovers.” Chloe pouted, a flicker of disdain in her eyes. Ethan’s brows furrowed, seemingly puzzled. I understood what puzzled him: how could I be so generous? I looked away. It was nothing; I had simply come to terms with it.

People around me were subtly sizing me up. Some with pity. Others with a hint of schadenfreude, enjoying the spectacle. I pretended not to notice any of them, walked straight into the main house, and handed Grandpa his birthday gift. “Grandpa, I wish you good health.” He looked at me with affection. “Good, Grandpa received it.” Ethan lingered a step behind, standing shoulder to shoulder with Chloe. They looked like an affectionate couple. Grandpa paused. Then he took my hand and Ethan’s, placing them together. “Is it because you’re giving me a great-grandchild soon?” Ethan and I froze simultaneously. I was the first to pull my hand away, saying under Ethan’s somewhat stunned gaze, “Grandpa, Ethan and I…” The man beside me cut me off, then told Grandpa, “Don’t worry, Grandpa, we’ll get to it soon.” Grandpa roared with laughter. Ethan, however, pulled me to the backyard. His expression was a little dark, with an inexplicable irritation. “What do you want to say?” “To tell Grandpa the truth: that we’re getting a divorce, and there won’t be any children.” I said expressionlessly. His thin lips tightened, brows furrowed. “Why are you bringing up divorce again? Didn’t we agree to let it go? Sophia, can you stop making a scene?” I was a little confused. “Since we’ve reached a point where we detest each other, why don’t you just marry Chloe, the woman you love?” His breathing instantly grew heavy. “Detest? I never…” “Ethan!” Chloe, from a distance, interrupted him, making the tension even heavier between us. She looked at me pitifully, biting her lip. “Sophia, can you stop using Grandpa to threaten me?” I frowned. “What do you mean?” Chloe looked utterly wronged. “Are you trying to say today that I broke up you and Ethan? You know Grandpa isn’t well.” “I couldn’t just watch you mess things up, so I had to compromise and leave Ethan. Is that your plan?” I was astonished. Then came an uncontrollable sense of absurdity, a sneer. “You watch too much TV.” Who would fall for such a clumsy attempt at sowing discord? “Sophia.” Ethan, standing nearby, suddenly spoke in a low voice. “Is that true? You’re threatening me again.” My lips moved. He believed her… I wanted to say something to defend myself, but facing his questioning gaze, the words died in my throat. In the end, it just became, “Believe what you want.” I turned and walked away, not even looking at his somewhat complex expression. In my earpiece, Sophia was comforting me. “Don’t be sad.” A strange ache welled up in my nose. “I’m not sad. So, Sophia, on your end, he’ll propose to you after your surgery is successful. Don’t accept him.” This time, she hummed without hesitation. “I know. Don’t worry.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Not long after, at the birthday party, Grandpa cut the cake and then went to his room to rest. Without him there, the people at the dinner table openly mocked me. “Look at some people, they’ve been challenged right in their own home, yet they’re still timid like a quail.” “Oh, you also have to consider who Chloe is. She’s Ethan’s sweetheart, you know.” I listened to it all. My hand gripping the forks tightened abruptly, then loosened. I looked up with a cold chuckle. “You’re so brave, yet isn’t your older brother raising his illegitimate son?” Her face instantly turned ugly. “You! Sophia! What does our family business have to do with you?!” I retorted expressionlessly, “Then what do my affairs have to do with you?” She choked on her words. The atmosphere at the dinner table became awkward. Ethan interrupted us in a deep voice, “Sophia, that’s enough.” I turned my head blankly. Only then did I notice his tie was the same color as Chloe’s. His stance was clear. That’s why they felt emboldened to mock me so brazenly. The strength in my hand gripping the forks suddenly left me. I put them down and murmured, “Ethan, you have the least right to criticize me.” His breathing grew heavy. And I rose from the table, the emotions I had suppressed came flooding out the moment I left the mansion. Tears streamed down my face, an endless flow. The mansion was quite a distance away. I walked and walked, never had this road felt so cold and lonely. I looked up at the sky; the sun was bright, but I felt no warmth at all. Just then, A choked voice in my earpiece spoke. “Sophia, Ethan is back with the doctor.”

“Sophia, I’m back. Don’t worry, I’m here for you.” Listening to the voice on the other end of the phone, I felt like ages had passed. It had been too long. So long that I myself had forgotten how many years it had been since I heard Ethan’s voice so gentle and those two words, ‘Sophia.’ Past-Sophia responded with an indifferent hum. “Thank you.” Young Ethan sounded a little hurt. “Sophia, why are you suddenly thanking me?” Sophia said nothing more, and he didn’t press her, just urged the doctor to arrange the surgery quickly. After a while. She pulled her phone out from under the covers. “I’ll leave as soon as the surgery is over. I won’t be part of that proposal.” I nodded, feeling a sense of release. Returning home, Ethan followed close behind, with a tearful Chloe by his side. He seized my hand, furious. “Did you tell Grandpa about Chloe and me?!” My wrist ached. Years ago, I’d injured my wrist saving him in a car accident, leaving a lasting issue. Now, he’d completely forgotten. I shook him off and met him with indifference. “I wouldn’t stoop to talk about your sordid affairs. You might not feel shameless, but I’m too proud to be associated with it.” His pupils contracted slightly. Then he sneered. “Too proud?” “You’re always so self-righteous. If you’d just told Grandpa, couldn’t he have sent Chloe away for you? Why pretend?” Chloe, beside us, was practically breathless with tears. A noticeable handprint marred her face. “Sophia, I’m begging you. I just want to be with Ethan. I don’t even care about a title!” With that, she fell to her knees in front of me with a thud. “I’m begging you!” Before I could react, Ethan grabbed the woman from the ground and pulled her up, frowning with concern. Then he looked at me. “Why are you pushing her so hard?” “She never fought you for anything. She just quietly stayed by my side, never competing, never demanding.” He shook his head as he spoke, his eyes filled with disappointment. “How did you become so aggressive over the years? You’re nothing like the Sophia I used to know.” My heart constricted. A flicker of bitterness and mockery crossed my eyes. “I’ve changed, but what about you?” “Haven’t you changed? You were always the first one to change between us.” In my earpiece, Young Ethan’s voice kept echoing. “Sophia’s surgery has been scheduled. You’ll be going into anesthesia soon. Don’t be scared, I’ll be here the whole time.” “When you come out, we’ll get married.” “No matter if your legs heal or not, I’ll always be with you. If they don’t, I’ll be your crutch for life.” His tone was both choked and gentle. Yet it grieved me more than the heartless indifference of the Ethan standing before me. My eyes reddened. The man before me paused, then his tone softened considerably. “If you apologize to Chloe, I’ll drop it.” I closed my eyes. “Apologize…” “On what grounds? What right does she have? Ethan, just get out.” “Sophia!” His tone grew heavy, his chest heaving with anger. “You said it! If I leave, I won’t come back!” I stopped looking at him. Ethan gave me a long, hard look. “You said it. Chloe, let’s go!” The room fell silent. I let out a bitter laugh, then packed my things and left, heading straight for the airport. More than ten hours later. The Sophia in my earpiece suddenly burst into tears. “Sophia, I sent him away. We’re completely over.” I felt a sense of relief, memories of him steadily being erased from my mind. At the same time, Ethan, who was processing documents at the office, suddenly felt a wave of dizziness and collapsed to the floor. When he woke up, Grandpa and Chloe were sitting beside him. “Grandpa? What happened to me?” He looked around, feeling a bit lost, then pressed his lips together and asked stiffly, “Where’s Sophia? She’s not coming even though I’m sick?” Just then, Grandpa smacked him hard. “Your wife, Chloe, is right here!” “You brat, still thinking about a classmate you haven’t seen in ten years!”

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Liam Thorne cut off my grandma Rose’s special medication to force me into being a mobile blood bank for his first love. He slammed a blood draw needle onto my face, his eyes icy: “Chloe Miller, Vanessa is injured and needs a transfusion. You share her blood type. Consider it an honor. Don’t forget, your grandma’s life is still in my hands!” He was convinced I would beg like a dog, just as I had for the past three years, all for Grandma. I looked at him calmly, rolled up my sleeve, and said, “Draw it.” He thought I had given in. He turned to brag to his friend: “A fake is just a cheap imitation. Give her a little something, and she’ll be grateful. She can never compare to Vanessa.” He didn’t know that yesterday I had found out Grandma passed away six months ago. He had deceived me for half a year with a dead body and forged medical records! After the last blood draw, I vanished from his world completely. Later, at a top charity gala in New York, he cornered me against a wall, eyes red, voice trembling: “Chloe, I messed up. Please, come back, okay?” A lean, strong hand wrapped around my waist. Julian Thorne, Liam’s powerful uncle, looked down at him with a sneer: “Liam, is that how you speak to your aunt-to-be?”

“Chloe Miller, get over here.” Liam Thorne’s voice cut through the hospital room door, carrying command and undisguised disgust. On the bed, Vanessa Scott leaned into soft pillows, her face pale, but her eyes gleamed with triumph. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, and walked in. A fresh “Voluntary Blood Donation Agreement” was tossed at my feet. The papers scattered across the cold floor, just like my dignity had been trampled for three years. “Sign it. Vanessa just returned from abroad, she’s not used to it yet, and she had a minor accident. She’s severely anemic. You have RH-negative blood, like her. From now on, you’ll stay on standby and serve as her private blood bank.” The words “private blood bank” came out so casually, but they cut into my heart like a dull knife. Vanessa coughed lightly, leaning into Liam’s arms, her voice soft: “Liam, don’t be like that. Chloe has been with you for three years. Drawing her blood makes me feel bad. What if she can’t handle it…” “What could she not handle?” Liam sneered, glancing at me as if I were worthless trash. “She’s lived off me for three years, eating my food, wearing my clothes. A little blood is nothing. It’s her good fortune to give blood for you.” He paused, his gaze turning dark and fixed on me: “Pick it up. Sign it.” I stood still, looking at the agreement on the floor. “Liam, I’m a person, not a blood bag.” My voice was quiet but steadier than I expected. Liam clearly hadn’t expected me to resist. For three years, I had mimicked Vanessa’s style, tone, even her smile, trained by him to be the perfect substitute. Anger flashed in his eyes. He strode over, grabbed my neck, and slammed me against the wall. “Chloe Miller, you’re getting bold. Daring to talk back to me?” The air in my lungs was squeezed out. My face turned red, but I kept my eyes wide open, staring at him. “Don’t forget, your grandma is still in my private hospital! Every dose of her special medication—I paid for it. Without me, she would be dead long ago!” Grandma. Those two words hit my weak spot. I closed my eyes, one tear sliding down my cheek, landing on Liam’s hand. He flinched as if burned, let go, and pulled out a handkerchief with disgust to wipe his hand. “Don’t act like a victim. You’ll sicken Vanessa. Sign it now and go to the draw room.” I bent down and picked up the agreement. The pen scratched across the paper, each stroke cutting into my heart. After I signed, a nurse walked in and pushed the thick needle into my vein. Crimson blood flowed through the tube, draining from my body. I watched that bright red and suddenly realized that three years of delusion had been a complete joke.

I became Vanessa Scott’s exclusive blood bank and full-time caretaker. She wanted not just my blood but also my dignity. To please her, Liam Thorne allowed all her petty torments. “Chloe Miller, this soup is too hot. Are you trying to scald me to death?” Vanessa hurled a bowl of steaming soup onto the back of my hand. My skin immediately turned red, blistered, and seared with pain. I bit my lip and refused to cry out. “What? Annoyed?” Vanessa raised an eyebrow, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Chloe, you’re nothing but a cheap imitation. Liam keeps you only because your face resembles mine a little and for your rare blood type. Now that I’m back, you are not even fit to tie my shoes.” I looked at her coldly: “Ms. Scott, if you are so noble, why do you need a ‘fake’s’ blood? Aren’t you afraid of getting dirty?” Slap! Vanessa backhanded me across the face. “Who do you think you are, talking to me like that!” The hospital room door swung open, and Liam Thorne walked in, carrying a thermos. Vanessa’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. She clutched her wrist and threw herself into Liam’s arms, whimpering. “Liam, my hand hurts so much… I just said the soup was a little hot, and Chloe got angry at me and even pushed me…” Liam Thorne’s face darkened. He strode to my side, didn’t even glance at my red, scalded hand, and slapped me hard. The force sent me sprawling to the ground, and I tasted blood. “Chloe Miller, are you trying to die?! Who gave you the guts to lay a hand on her!” I covered my face and looked up at the man I had loved for three years. Three years ago, a heavy snow trapped him in a car accident. It was I who dragged him from the wreckage, walked and carried him for over ten hours, pulling him back from death. I lay in the hospital for half a month from severe frostbite. But when he woke up, he only remembered the faint jasmine scent he had noticed while unconscious. And Vanessa Scott, she loved jasmine perfume. Vanessa took credit for saving his life and became his beloved first love. I, with my family’s fall and Grandma’s illness, was forced to sign that humiliating agreement for her medical expenses. I once believed that even a heart of stone could be melted. Now I realized Liam Thorne’s heart wasn’t stone; it was ice laced with poison. “Liam, if I told you I didn’t push her, that she spilled the soup on herself, would you believe me?” I asked, my voice hoarse. Liam looked as if he’d heard the funniest joke: “You think I’d believe a lying wretch like you? Vanessa wouldn’t even step on an ant, how could she frame you!” He kicked over the trash can. “Since you like throwing tantrums, clean all the restrooms on this floor today. If you don’t finish, your grandma’s medication for today is stopped!” I lowered my gaze and hid all my emotions. “Fine. I’ll go.” I dragged my exhausted body, cleaning tools in hand, through the restrooms. Cold water soaked into my wounds, piercing pain. That night, leaning against the bathroom wall, I took out my phone and dialed Grandma’s doctor. “Dr. Evans, how is Grandma’s health recently? I’d like to visit her.” There was a long silence on the other end, so long that dread grew in my heart. “Ms. Miller…” Dr. Evans’s voice was filled with panic and guilt. “Mr. Thorne instructed that the elderly lady is in a sterile ward and cannot have visitors…” “Dr. Evans, you can’t hide it from me anymore.” I took a deep breath and forced myself to stay calm. “Today at the nurses’ station, I saw Grandma’s payment list. There was a cremation fee.” On the other end, there was a clatter, as if something had dropped.

“Ms. Miller, please let me explain…” Dr. Evans’s voice trembled violently, confirming my suspicions. “Tell me the truth.” My voice was ice cold. “What exactly happened to my grandma?” Under my relentless questioning, Dr. Evans finally broke down. “Ms. Miller, I’m so sorry! Six months ago, the elderly lady had sudden heart failure… she didn’t make it. Mr. Thorne said if I told you, you would leave him. He made me forge medical records to make it seem like she was still alive and sent you bills every day… The elderly lady’s body was cremated six months ago. Her ashes are stored in the cemetery outside the city…” Boom! It was as if a thunderclap exploded in my mind, shattering all my reason and emotion. Six months ago. Grandma died six months ago. And I, like a fool, for a loved one who was no longer in this world, had been subservient to Liam Thorne, letting him trample my dignity, even draining my blood to save his first love! Liam, how could you be so cruel! You didn’t just kill; you destroyed my spirit! I hung up, biting my lips hard until I tasted metal, barely suppressing the scream in my throat. Tears hit the cold floor silently. In that moment, the Chloe Miller who loved Liam Thorne died completely. What lived was a demon crawling out of hell. The next day, I appeared in Vanessa Scott’s hospital room on time, as usual. My face was paler than yesterday, but my eyes were eerily calm. Vanessa was drinking soup. Seeing me enter, she sneered. “Oh, the restrooms are clean? I thought you would be stuck in there forever.” I walked to her bedside, picked up the water pitcher from the table, and poured her a glass of warm water. “Ms. Scott, please drink some water.” She glanced at it disdainfully: “I don’t drink plain water. I want freshly squeezed pomegranate juice from that popular place across town. Go buy it for me.” That place was over twenty miles away. Rush hour, round trip would take at least three hours. I nodded: “Okay, I’ll go.” I turned and walked out. I didn’t go for the juice. Instead, I hailed a cab to the cemetery. In that cold niche, I saw Grandma Rose’s name. The old woman in the picture smiled so kindly, as if she were still calling my pet name: “Chloe, remember to eat on time.” I knelt before the grave, but I didn’t cry. My tears had all dried up last night. I reached out, gently touching the urn, my voice a soft murmur: “Grandma, I’m sorry I’m late. Don’t worry, I won’t let any of those who hurt us get away.” After the cemetery, I went directly to a private detective agency. I pushed all the savings I had accumulated over the past three years across the table. “I want everything on Liam Thorne and Vanessa Scott. Especially Vanessa’s three years overseas—every detail.” When I came out of the agency, it was dark. I returned to the hospital. Liam Thorne was sitting on the sofa outside the room, his face dark. Seeing me, he stood up abruptly, rushed over, and grabbed my collar. “Chloe Miller, where have you been?! Vanessa asked you to buy juice, and you disappeared all day! She fainted from anemia this afternoon and urgently needed a transfusion!” I looked at his furious face and suddenly laughed. A laugh full of sarcasm and desolation. “Liam, I went for the juice, but there was traffic, and I accidentally spilled it, so I had to go back and buy another one.” I casually spun a lie. “You dare to laugh!” Liam’s hand shot up, ready to strike me again. I didn’t dodge, just looked at him coldly: “Hit me. If you kill me today, Vanessa loses her mobile blood bank. Can you afford that?” Liam’s hand froze in midair. He looked at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He seemed to realize I had changed. I was no longer the timid substitute, but a rose covered in thorns. He lowered his hand and snorted: “Consider yourself lucky. Get in there and give blood!” I followed the nurse into the draw room. Crimson blood flowed out again. I watched the bright red and silently counted down in my mind. Liam, take it. Every drop of this blood, I will make you pay for in the future.

After giving blood, I leaned weakly against the corridor wall, my vision flickering with black spots. Just then, a tall, imposing figure stopped in front of me. “Is this how Liam Thorne treats a woman?” A deep, magnetic voice, tinged with amusement and authority, came from above. I looked up. What met my eyes was a chiseled, handsome face. He wore a tailored high-end suit. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses were deep, unfathomable eyes. Julian Thorne. New York’s undisputed prince, the current head of the Thorne Group, and Liam’s uncle. Though only five years older than Liam, his methods were ruthless and decisive, a force no one in New York dared to provoke. I straightened up and bowed slightly: “Mr. Thorne.” Julian’s gaze fell on my pale face, then swept over the dense needle marks on my arm. “Your name is Chloe Miller?” “Yes.” He chuckled softly, pulling a fine silk handkerchief from his suit pocket and offering it to me. “Wipe away that cold sweat. Anyone seeing you like this would think we Thornes abuse animals.” I didn’t take the handkerchief, just looked at him coldly. “Mr. Thorne, get to the point. I need to go back and serve your nephew’s wife.” A hint of appreciation flickered in Julian’s eyes. “You have backbone. Much more than that whining Vanessa Scott.” He put his handkerchief away, his tone casual yet laced with danger. “Chloe Miller, do you want revenge?” My heart leaped. I looked up sharply. How did he know? Julian seemed to read my mind, a knowing smile on his lips. “Liam Thorne hid the news of your grandmother’s death, keeping you as a blood bank. What he did was despicable. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Liam has been overreaching lately, trying to get his hands on the Thorne Group’s core businesses. I don’t like disobedient nephews.” He leaned in slightly, his warm breath fanning my ear, a dangerous whisper. “Work with me. I’ll help you ruin them. After it’s done, I’ll send you abroad and ensure you live comfortably.” I looked into his deep eyes, knowing this was like playing with a tiger. But I had nothing left to lose. A person with nothing to lose fears no one. I gritted my teeth and spat out one word: “Deal.” Julian straightened up and adjusted his cuff. “Tomorrow night, come to the Royal Palace Hotel penthouse suite. We’ll discuss the details.” With that, he turned and left, leaving behind his tall silhouette. I watched his retreating back, a cold smile on my lips. Liam, your good days are over.

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After scandalous photos of Julian Maxwell, the scion of a powerful New York family, and his new girlfriend, Lily, leaked, everyone was waiting for me to make Lily disappear — or worse. So, at the cruise party, he made a grand declaration, protecting his new love. “Anyone who dares touch a hair on Lily’s head, I’ll break their hand.” I wasn’t looking to settle scores with Lily. All I wanted was the key to the safe containing my mother’s ashes, as compensation for his infidelity. Julian seemed conflicted, but Lily already had the key. She tossed it into a snake pit, specially prepared to satisfy the wealthy guests’ twisted amusement. “Seraphina, Julian said all the cards and house keys are mine now. If you really want this key, go pick it up yourself.” In the snake pit, dozens of snakes writhed together, flicking their tongues, eerie and disgusting. They all thought I wouldn’t dare. But I didn’t hesitate; I plunged my hand straight into the pit. Julian’s expression was grim, and a flicker of panic crossed his eyes as he watched me. Even as my arm bled from the bites, I didn’t flinch. No one knew that at the same time the scandalous photos were exposed, I’d received a message from my father: “Bring your mother, and I’ll give you a chance to come home. You have one day. Miss it, and our father-daughter relationship is over.”

My family and the Maxwells had a generations-long feud, constantly tearing each other apart. My parents had kept me so sheltered. That’s why, even after Julian Maxwell’s dramatic rescue — and knowing exactly who he was — I still fell hopelessly in love with him. It was simply because I believed I’d find a love like my parents’ — one of unwavering devotion and support. When my father found out, he furiously kicked me out of the house. Julian took me in. My mother, while looking for me, tragically died in a car accident. Julian snatched my mother’s body, claiming it was so I’d have something to remember her by. But after the cremation, he locked her ashes in a safe, using them to force me to stay by his side. With nowhere to go and no skills to support myself, I became Julian’s kept woman. Every aspect of my life — my clothes, food, shelter, and transportation — required Julian’s approval. Meanwhile, my father, devastated by my mother’s death, lost interest in work, and our family’s fortunes dwindled daily. I’d tried to go home and visit my father, but every request was denied. He even assigned bodyguards to me around the clock to prevent me from leaving on my own. Everyone said he was protecting me, but I knew he was just watching my every move. Yet, despite his obsessive control, Julian treated me incredibly well, showering me with lavish attention, making me the envy of everyone. Even when I angrily tore up one of his hundred-million-dollar contracts, he, a man who always put work first, would just praise me for it. A sharp sting in my arm jolted me from my memories. My hand was deep inside the snake pit. The disturbed snakes began to writhe, coiling around my arm one by one. Their sharp fangs pierced my flesh, expressing their displeasure at my invasion. I’d been pampered since childhood, my body delicate and unused to hardship. The pain instantly flooded my brain. I pushed through on sheer willpower, continuously searching inside the pit. Just as I felt I was about to touch it, Julian suddenly pulled my hand out, then immediately ordered the snake pit to be eliminated. Everyone at the party could see he was taking revenge on the snakes for my injured arm. They whispered amongst themselves that Julian still loved me most, he just made a mistake men often make. But the next second, Julian lashed out at me, full-on. “In the three years you’ve been with me, haven’t I put you on a pedestal? Is it not enough? To reduce yourself to this state, all for a safe key?” That wasn’t just a safe key; it was my mother’s ashes, my hope of returning home. He grabbed the first-aid kit, crudely treating my snake bites while scolding me. “You should be thankful these snakes weren’t venomous, or not even a miracle could save you!” Ignoring my wounds, I looked at the snake pit. It was a bloody mess. The snakes were dead, and the key was buried beneath their disgusting bodies. My eyes welled up. I had, in fact, asked him for the key before. But he wouldn’t give it to me, saying he was afraid I’d leave him once I had it. He claimed he was madly in love with me, and everything he did was out of fear I’d abandon him, including preventing me from visiting my father and keeping me from my mother’s ashes. Julian, who was always so powerful, felt insecure with me, and that made me feel incredibly guilty. I thought I wasn’t showing him enough love. So I became even more dependent on him, just to make him feel my love, and in doing so, I completely lost myself. And now, he had so casually given the key to Lily, even letting her toss it into that filthy snake pit. My arm was numb, and so was my heart. I let out a heavy sigh, turning back to the man I’d loved with my life for three years. “If you hadn’t pulled my hand out, I would have touched the key.”

“Seraphina, I’m so sorry.” Lily gave me a tearful glance, her eyes red, as if *I* had been the one to bully her. She cried as she approached the filthy snake pit, her hand trembling as she reached in and pulled out the grimy key. Lily offered me the key. “I never thought you’d actually put your hand in. I just wanted to play a harmless prank.” The key was right there! I yanked my hand free from Julian’s grasp, trying to snatch the key. But just an inch away, Julian moved faster, pressing Lily’s hand down, preventing her from giving me the key. He loomed over me, his gaze chilling. “Seraphina, you’re so desperate for that key. Is it to leave me?” In the three years we’d been together, Julian had demanded I become solely his possession. Before Lily appeared, I thought it was a sweet burden. But it wasn’t until I saw how he interacted with Lily that I understood what true love was. He pampered Lily just as he had pampered me, but he didn’t clip her wings; instead, he let her freely enjoy her youth. While I, like a forgotten wife at home, waited day and night for him to return. That was a normal relationship. Perhaps Julian didn’t love me at all; maybe he just wanted to conquer me because our families were rivals. “Seraphina Davis, I’m talking to you,” Julian called out, his face dark. I snapped back to reality and fired back, “You can give the key to a third party, but not me? I’m your girlfriend.” The guests at the party recoiled, fearful of getting caught in the crossfire. No one had ever dared to speak to Julian like that before; I was the first. In the past, I had been incredibly obedient to Julian. Even if he said one plus one was three, I would discard all reason and believe he was right. So, not only were the guests surprised, but Julian himself seemed taken aback. But quickly, a sarcastic smile twisted his lips. He suddenly gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Seraphina Davis, what happens between Lily and me is none of your business. Daring to contradict me in public — do you think your place in my heart is so high? It seems I’ve spoiled you too much, letting you run wild.”

Julian had indeed spoiled me in the past; there was no denying that. But I had never been unruly. My family could no longer contend with his; why did he keep involving me? If he’d found true love, why keep me around as an inconvenience? As these thoughts surfaced, tears uncontrollably streamed down my face, tracing a path across my cheek to Julian’s hand. The man’s body stiffened. He instinctively wiped away my tears. His sudden tenderness made me sob uncontrollably. “Please,” I choked out through tears, “I’m begging you, just give me the key.” One day was such a short time. My father was a man of his word, and I was terrified of losing him. The tenderness in Julian’s eyes vanished instantly, replaced by cold indifference. At that moment, Lily sidled up, wiping the tears from Julian’s hand, and glanced at me. “Seraphina, Julian is so good to you. Why are you fighting with him? If you’re not heartbroken, I am.” I pulled at the corners of my mouth, a bitter, humorless smile. Lily and I were like a stark contrast right then; her gentle sweetness was the perfect way to win a man over. When Julian looked at me again, he was back to his icy self. “You’re a buzzkill,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “Take her away and lock her up.” A murmur ran through the crowd. They all believed that I, the woman Julian had once put on a pedestal, was about to fall from grace. I thought so too. I was locked in the cruise ship’s storage room. It was spacious, but once the door closed, it plunged into complete darkness. In that confined space, my claustrophobia flared. I scrambled to the door, frantically pounding on it. I wanted to call for help, but my breathing was too ragged for me to make a sound. Outside, I heard the guards scoff, “Just a piece of trash, thinking she’s still somebody important? She’s making such a fuss.” They kicked the door a few times as a warning, annoyed by my noise. I stopped pounding. Not because I gave up, but because I had no strength left. The snake bites on my hands hadn’t been treated, and combined with my claustrophobia, I was incredibly weak. I don’t know how much time passed. But when I woke again, the light filtering through the cracks was bright. It was the next day. I didn’t have much time; I had to get the key before the cruise docked at noon. I tried pounding on the door again. This time, the door opened, and Julian walked in. He narrowed his eyes, observing my disheveled state. He reached out, gently wiping the dust from my face, then personally treated the wounds on my arm. For a moment, I almost saw the person who had once cherished me so carefully. But the next second, his words dragged me back to the cruel reality. “Silly Seraphina, your phone is monitored. I know your father sent you a message.” “But what can I do? I’d rather you cut ties with your father than leave me.” “For you, I’m willing to extend the cruise party. We’ll only return tomorrow.” Julian’s words stunned me. He knew everything! I spoke with difficulty, “Julian, does what you said a year ago still count?” On my birthday a year ago, Julian had made me a promise. He promised me a lifetime with just one person, only ever having eyes for each other. If he ever broke that promise, he’d give me his life. Julian, instead of getting angry, smiled faintly. He pulled out a knife he carried, placed it in my hand, and pointed to his chest. “Seraphina, stab me right here. My life is yours.”

I raised the knife, aiming for his heart. But the tip stopped just before his chest. My hand was trembling uncontrollably; I couldn’t move it another inch. Julian’s smile deepened. He gently pried open my fingers and took the knife. “Seraphina, I knew you couldn’t do it.” Julian paused, then added, “The outcome will be a lifetime with just one person, but the journey there might not be.” He told me to stay in the storage room and calm down, completely forgetting about my claustrophobia. Two years ago, Julian had an enemy. That enemy kidnapped me, holding me hostage in a dark basement and torturing me. By the time Julian arrived, I was bruised, bleeding, and unconscious. That’s when my claustrophobia began. It was fair to say that if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have it. Watching him walk away decisively, I felt utterly ridiculous. The storage room door clicked shut once more. I huddled in the corner, clinging to life by the sliver of light filtering through a mouse hole. How could a person live such a pathetic existence? I used to be a pampered heiress, cherished by my parents. The cruise ship indeed did not dock on time. I heard many guests quietly complaining that it was delaying their plans. But not a single person dared to question Julian directly. My heart slowly sank. No hope. I had no home. In the afternoon, the storage room door opened. I thought Julian had come. But the person who appeared before me was Lily. Lily wore a gorgeous princess gown, looking radiant and polished. My disheveled state clearly satisfied her. So much so that she was willing to reveal a secret she’d kept for three years. “Not long ago, when Julian was drunk, he mentioned your mother’s death.” “Your mother wanted to take you away and argued with him, but he found her annoying and killed her right there.” “He even showed me photos from the scene — it was all bloody, so terrifying.” I listened in confusion. Julian had told me my mother, speeding and distraught while looking for me, drove off a winding mountain road and died in the accident. As if sensing my doubt, Lily purposely pulled out a photo. She had secretly taken it. Blood stained my mother’s white dress on the ground; the wounds were so horrific, I could even see organs. I froze. The truth was, three years ago I hadn’t seen my mother’s body, only touched a cold urn once. Everything about my mother’s death, I had only heard from Julian’s lips. Lily’s mouth curved slightly upward. She savored my pain, then threw the safe key at my face. “Seeing how pathetic you are, I’ll give you the key. A safe holding a dead person’s ashes, it’s bad luck for me to keep.” I finally had the key. It wasn’t even evening yet; I still had time. But we were surrounded by ocean. After leaving the cruise ship, how would I get back to shore? Lily had clearly only come to deepen the conflict between Julian and me. She dismissed the guards, also giving me a chance to escape. As soon as Lily left, I secretly slipped out of the storage room. I headed to the stern of the ship. It was the least crowded area. As despair washed over me, I spotted a lifeboat nearby. Maybe I could use the lifeboat to leave. Rather than waiting for death, I would take action. I didn’t want anything more to do with the man who killed my mother. I’d take a gamble. Even if I died in the ocean, it would be better than living a dazed, meaningless life by Julian’s side. I boarded the lifeboat and set off in the direction we had come from. Half an hour later, the guards, on their own accord, went to Julian to confess their failure. “Mr. Maxwell, Seraphina is gone. An empty lifeboat was recovered from the sea.”

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That was the fourth time Chase denied holding any feelings for me in public. By then, I’d already learned to look away before the words even left his mouth. The music in the VIP booth was deafening, vibrating right through the soles of my shoes. He was slouched back in the corner of the leather booth, lazily flicking his Zippo lighter. “A girl like Sylvie?” He laughed as the flame flared up, casting a sharp shadow over his smirk. “Not a chance.” The stares of the people around us felt like tiny needles pricking my skin. At two in the morning, I was at the 24-hour convenience store, warming up a carton of milk in the microwave. Suddenly, the glass door rattled violently as someone threw it open. It was Chase. He was leaning heavily against the metal frame, his knuckles split and dripping fresh blood, the cuff of his jacket torn open. Outside, the yellow streetlamp stretched his shadow into a broken, stumbling line. “The guy who drove you home,” he rasped, his voice raw, a bead of blood rolling down the back of his hand and dripping onto the linoleum floor. “Who was he?” I kept my eyes on his raw knuckles, calmly unscrewing the cap of my warm milk. “You’re bleeding.” He lunged forward, grabbing my wrist with a desperate, suffocating grip. “I asked you a question, Sylvie.” I looked down at the tear in the skin near his thumb, oozing red. So the rumors were true. He really had gotten into a fight. And it was because of me. … Chase’s hand was still bleeding. I pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and held it out to him, but he didn’t take it. “You need to clean that,” I said quietly. Instead of letting go, his grip tightened, his dark eyes burning into mine. “Who drove you home?” Outside, under the amber glow of the streetlamp, his shadow seemed to tremble. I slowly spun the warm milk bottle between my palms. “A coworker.” I looked back at his bruised hand. “You were fighting.” He finally released my wrist, letting out a dry, raspy laugh that scraped against the quiet store. “Yeah.” “Why?” He averted his gaze, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “None of your business.” I turned away, scanning the shelves for a box of Band-Aids and a bottle of antiseptic. As I rang them up at the counter, his voice cut through the silence. “Sylvie.” I kept my back to him. “What if I said…” He choked on the words, the sentence dying in his throat. The only sound left was the low, electric hum of the store’s air conditioning. The next afternoon, his friend Luke was smoking on the fire escape when he saw me and called out. “Did Chase scare you last night?” I shook my head. He flicked the ash from his cigarette and laughed. “Don’t mind him. He’s always been like that. Some guy was hassling his childhood sweetheart, Chelsea, and Chase just lost his mind. He’s protective like a feral dog when it comes to her.” I nodded. The milk crate in my arms suddenly felt incredibly heavy. When I turned the corner of the stairwell, Chase was standing there. There was no telling how long he’d been listening. Luke cleared his throat awkwardly, muttered an excuse, and slipped away. Chase stepped down the concrete stairs, stopping right in front of me. The cheap Band-Aid on the back of his hand was already peeling at the edges. “Ask me,” he said. “Ask you what?” “What you didn’t finish asking last night.” I looked at him, watching the shadow of his long lashes cast over his cheeks. “Do you like me? Even just a little?” His throat moved. Then he smirked, the corners of his mouth turning up in a slow, infuriating curve. “I don’t like you at all.” I squeezed the box of milk tighter against my chest and brushed past his shoulder. “Fine. I don’t like you either.” The motion-sensor light on the second-floor landing was broken, forcing me to fumble for my keys in the dim gray shadows. His heavy footsteps followed me up, stopping on the step just below mine. In the darkness, his breathing sounded thick. “Sylvie.” “Yeah.” “Turn around.” I didn’t move. His hand reached out, brushing against my wrist. His fingertips were burning hot. “I really don’t like you,” he muttered, repeating the lie like a mantra. I turned around to face him. His eyes were wide, catching the faint light from the streetlamp outside. “I hear you,” I said softly. His fingers tightened around my skin, then slowly let go. “Stay away from that guy.” “You don’t own me.” He stepped closer, his warm breath fanning across my forehead. “Yes, I do.” A sliver of moonlight spilled through the dirty windowpane, highlighting a raw scratch near his collarbone. I reached out, my fingertips grazing the bruised skin. He went completely stiff. “Does it hurt?” I whispered. He didn’t answer, his quiet, ragged breath washing over my hand. The keys slipped from my fingers, clattering softly against the floor. He bent down instantly to retrieve them. When he stood back up, his forehead brushed against my chin. We were too close. I took the keys from his hand, turned around, and unlocked the door. He stood out there in the hall for a long time. By the time I finished my shower, my phone screen was glowing on the nightstand. A text from him: Goodnight. I didn’t reply. I bumped into him the next day in the dining hall. He was carrying a tray, a fresh Band-Aid neatly applied to his knuckles. As we passed each other in the narrow aisle, his hand grazed the back of mine. “It hurts,” he murmured suddenly. I turned to look at him. His eyes were fixed on the wall opposite us. “My hand, I mean.” “Oh.” I glanced down at his tray. His lunch was completely untouched. That afternoon, Luke cornered me again during study hall. “Chase was standing outside your building until two in the morning.” I kept turning the pages of my textbook, trying to appear unaffected. “Chelsea is leaving the country,” Luke added. My pen froze against the paper. “And?” Luke shrugged, leaning back. “And he’s been acting like a lunatic for the past forty-eight hours.” It was pouring by the time the final bell rang. Chase was waiting right outside my classroom, holding out a large black umbrella. “Take mine.” “What about you?” “I’ll run.” Drops of rain were already dripping from the damp tips of his dark hair. When I reached for the umbrella, our fingers brushed. He was freezing. “Let’s walk together,” I said. He blinked, caught off guard. The umbrella was small, leaving his left shoulder completely soaked as we walked. When we reached the convenience store, I stopped. “Let’s dry off inside.” Under the warm fluorescent lights, tiny water droplets clung to his long eyelashes. I grabbed a dry towel from my bag and handed it to him. As he vigorously rubbed his hair dry, his collar shifted, exposing a nasty purple bruise near his collarbone. “Another fight?” I asked. His hands froze. “Yeah.” “For her?” The towel slipped from his hands, landing on his shoulders. He looked down at me, his eyes dark and wet. “For you.” “Why would you fight for me?” I unscrewed the cap of a water bottle and handed it to him. He swallowed hard, his throat moving as he took a sip. “I didn’t like the way he looked at you.” “Was he another guy bothering your precious Chelsea?” He choked on his water, coughing violently. “Who told you that?” “Everyone’s saying it.” He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “It wasn’t about her.” “Then who?” He stared at the display of potato chips, refusing to meet my eyes. I took the towel and slowly folded it. “Fine. Keep your secrets.” I turned to leave, but his hand shot out, catching the edge of my jacket. “It was you.” I spun around. The tips of his ears were burning red. “That guy in the alley… he touched your hair.” I stared at him, dumbfounded. His grip on my jacket tightened. “So you beat him up over that?” “He shouldn’t have touched you.” A sudden urge to laugh bubbled up in my chest. “Chase.” “What?” “Is this your version of being jealous?” He let go of my jacket instantly, as if the fabric had turned to hot coal. “Don’t flatter yourself.” I placed a bottle of milk in the microwave, watching it spin behind the glass. He leaned against the tiled wall. “Sylvie.” “Yeah?” “What if…” The microwave dinged, cutting him off. I pulled the warm bottle out, and his words hung unfinished in the air. “What if what?” He took the bottle from me, our fingers lingering against the warm glass. “What if I said yes. What if I am jealous?” I looked up, searching his face, but he quickly looked away. “Just kidding.” The rain had stopped. He pushed the heavy glass door open. “Keep the umbrella.” “What about you?” “I’ll run.” He stepped into the wet glow of the streetlamp, then suddenly stopped and turned back. “That guy…” “He’s my cousin, Tyler,” I said. He froze. “What?” “The guy who touched my hair. My cousin.” I pointed to the bandaged hand. “You fought him for nothing.” He stared at his bandage, a slow, ridiculously boyish grin spreading across his face. “Worth it,” he muttered. He turned and bolted into the misty night, his damp white shirt clinging to his back. Later that night, my phone buzzed on my pillow. My knuckles hurt. I texted back: Good. You deserved it. Three seconds later: Cold-hearted. Then another: You still owe me for the milk. I sent him money through Venmo, but he declined it instantly. Pay me back tomorrow. In person. Between classes the next day, he slouched against the edge of my desk. “My hand hurts.” “Let me see.” He held his hand out obediently. The Band-Aid was peeling again. I pulled it off, revealing a scratch that was already mostly healed. “Liar,” I muttered. He immediately flipped his hand over, catching my fingers in his. “It hurts like this.” His palm was burning hot. The teacher walked in, and he let go of my hand, but not before brushing his thumb gently over my knuckles. It was a featherlight touch. He was waiting by the door after the final bell. “Time to pay me back.” “How?” He handed me a cold carton of milk. “A fair trade.” I took it, but he didn’t let go of the other side. “Sylvie.” “Yeah?” “I think I might…” Laughter erupted from the back door. Luke threw an arm around Chase’s shoulder, dragging him back. “Yo, Chase! Chelsea’s looking for you.” Chase’s face instantly hardened, his warmth vanishing. I pulled my hand back, the carton suddenly feeling icy in my palm. He was pulled away into the crowd. Chelsea looked back at me, offering a polite, soft smile. I turned and walked down the stairs alone. There was a massive line at the boba shop down the street. Someone pushed past me to cut in line, but I didn’t have the energy to fight it. “Let her go first,” a voice rasped behind me. Chase was panting, his chest heaving as if he’d run the entire way. The guy who cut in looked at Chase’s expression and quietly stepped back. “Aren’t you supposed to be catching up with your old friend?” I asked, placing my order. Chase pulled out his wallet before I could reach for mine. “Done.” “That fast?” “We didn’t have much to say.” Chelsea came running up behind us, her eyes red and puffy. “Chase…” Chase immediately stepped in front of me, shielding me from her view. “Go home, Chelsea.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the shop. “I didn’t pay for my drink,” I argued. “My treat.” “I don’t need you to buy me drinks.” Chelsea followed us outside, reaching out to grab my arm. “Sylvie, please don’t misunderstand.” Chase immediately knocked her hand away, his voice cold. “Don’t touch her.” Luke wandered over, a smirk on his face. “What’s this? A rekindled flame?” Chase kicked his shin. “Shut up and get lost.” Suddenly, Chelsea threw her arms around my neck, pulling me into a tight hug. I went completely rigid. “Take care of yourself,” she whispered, her voice muffled against my shoulder. Before I could process it, she let go, turned, and ran down the street. Chase and I stood there, staring at each other. “I think she hugged the wrong person,” I muttered. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Maybe.” The barista handed over my drink. I struggled to poke the straw through the plastic lid. Chase took it from my hands, tore the tip of the paper wrapper off with his teeth, and poked it through perfectly before handing it back. “Gross,” I teased. “Clean as a whistle,” he laughed. His phone buzzed relentlessly in his pocket. He pulled it out and flipped it to silent. “Is it about her flight?” I asked. “Yeah.” “Aren’t you going to say goodbye?” “No.” He kicked a stray pebble across the pavement. “It has nothing to do with me.” Later that night, he sent a photo of the airport departure terminal. So you went after all? I texted. Dropping off my dad. Oh. A second later, he sent his real-time location. He was directly outside my building. I pulled back the curtains and looked down. He was standing beneath the streetlamp, waving up at me. Come down. Why? You haven’t finished paying me back for the milk. I threw on a jacket and headed downstairs. He was holding a plastic grocery bag packed to the brim with milk cartons. “How long is this going to take?” I asked, looking at the bag. “We have all the time in the world,” he murmured. His eyes were bloodshot. “Have you been crying?” “Just the wind,” he said, quickly turning his head away. The plastic bag rustled between us. “When she hugged you,” he said softly, staring at his shoes. “What did it feel like?” “Soft,” I replied simply. He made a strange, slightly disturbed face. “That sounds incredibly weird coming from you.” I laughed, and the tension broke as he smiled along. But then his smile faded, and his shoulders slumped. “Sylvie.” “Yeah?” “I actually—” Luke came skidding up on his motorcycle, the engine roaring. “Chase! Chelsea’s trying to reach you!” Chase swung his hand back and smacked Luke hard on the shoulder. “Can’t you see we’re talking here?!” Luke rubbed his shoulder, looking deeply offended. “What are you hitting me for? She just wanted to know what gate she was at.” Chase ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Can’t she read the giant screens herself?” Luke rolled his eyes and rode off. The plastic bag of milk was still dangling from Chase’s fingers. I reached out and took it from him. “Go,” I said quietly. He didn’t budge. “If I go, you’ll think there’s something between us.” “There’s already too many rumors,” I said. I turned around, clutching the bag of milk, and walked toward the entrance. He called out my name from the sidewalk, but I didn’t look back. A text arrived late that night: She boarded. I read it, but left it on read. The next morning, Luke showed up at my classroom door. “Chase told me to drive you home.” “I don’t need a ride.” “He’s terrified you’re mad at him,” Luke said with a grin. “Why would I be mad?” His motorcycle was parked at the end of the block. Luke tossed me a spare helmet. “Hop on. It’s on my way.” The engine rumbled loudly under us. As we sped down the street, Luke yelled over the wind. “Honestly, Chase is just like this.” “Like what?” “A coward.” I gripped the metal grab bars of the seat. “He’s crazy about you, he’s just too chicken to say it.” “He’s in love with Chelsea,” I shouted back. Luke let out a loud laugh. “How many years ago was that?” He pulled up outside the local convenience store and killed the engine, taking off his helmet. “Sylvie, you two need to stop playing these stubborn games.” I pushed the glass door open, and he followed me inside. “He sat at the gate all night,” Luke said, leaning against the counter. “What does that have to do with me?” “Do you really not get why he picked that fight?” “He said it was because of me.” “Exactly,” Luke said, tapping his cigarette pack against his palm. “Look, his parents divorced when he was a kid. Chelsea lived next door and used to bring him dinners so he wouldn’t starve.” My milk finished warming. “When her family moved away, he was devastated for a while. But that was a lifetime ago.” Luke took a sip of his own drink. “That’s in the past.” I unwrapped a pastry. “These days, you’re the only person he talks about,” Luke smiled. “It’s Sylvie this, Sylvie that. Honestly, it’s exhausting to listen to.” Outside, the streetlights were flickering to life one by one. Luke dropped me off right outside my door. “Get inside safely.” “Thanks, Luke.” “Don’t sweat it,” he waved. “See ya tomorrow.” The apartment hallway was pitch black. The moment I slid my key into the lock, the door swung open. My mother peeked her head out. “Who was that guy who dropped you off?” “A classmate.” “Another one?” she asked, her eyes scanning the street below. “That motorcycle looked expensive.” I brushed past her into the apartment. “Don’t start.” She followed me into the small kitchen. “What about the guy with the sedan last week?” “That was Tyler. My cousin.” “Don’t play dumb with me,” she said, rinsing an apple under the tap. “It doesn’t hurt to make friends with boys who have deep pockets.” I kept my mouth shut. She handed me the apple. “What’s his family do?” “He’s just a classmate.” “Just a classmate driving you right to our doorstep?” She smiled, a calculating look in her eyes. “Don’t waste an opportunity.” I retreated to my bedroom, locking the door behind me. My phone screen lit up. A text from Chase: You home? I didn’t answer. A minute later: Luke said he dropped you off. Then: Why are you ignoring me? The window was open, a cool breeze rustling the curtains. I typed a long reply, deleted it, and settled on a simple: Yeah. He replied instantly. Still mad? No. See you tomorrow? Yeah. The bubble indicating he was typing appeared, lingering for several minutes. Finally, he sent: Goodnight. In the middle of the night, a quiet knock rattled the front door. I unlocked it to find Chase standing in the dim light of the hallway, his hair messy. “Is your mom asleep?” he whispered. I nodded. He handed me a small paper bag. “What’s this?” “Band-Aids,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just passing by.” I took the bag, noticing the scratch on his knuckles had split open again, leaking fresh blood. “Did you get into another fight?” “No,” he said, looking away. “Just clumsy.” “Are you twelve?” He leaned his shoulder against the drywall. “Too many guys are looking at you.” “What does that have to do with you?” He stared down at his sneakers. “I don’t like it.” “Why are you being so stubborn?” He snapped his head up, his dark eyes locked onto mine. “Because I am.” The paper bag crinkled in my hands. “Sylvie.” “What?” “I’m serious.” I looked down at the smear of red on his hand. “Let’s go to the clinic and get that cleaned.” He shook his head. “It’s fine.” He turned to leave, but I grabbed the edge of his jacket. “Wait. Let me get my keys.” He froze, staring at my hand on his sleeve. The neighborhood clinic’s neon sign was still buzzing. The doctor applied antiseptic, making Chase hiss through his teeth. “Get into a scrap?” the doctor asked, raising an eyebrow. “Just clumsy,” Chase muttered. The doctor chuckled. “Clumsy enough to split your knuckles open twice?” I remained silent, watching from the corner. It was past three in the morning by the time we stepped back out onto the quiet streets. “That guy with the bike,” Chase said, breaking the silence. “What about him?” “Don’t ride with him anymore.” “Why?” “It’s dangerous.” I stopped walking and looked at him. “Chase.” “Yeah?” “You are incredibly difficult.” He smiled, a soft, genuine look in his eyes. “Only with you.” The yellow streetlamps cast our long, overlapping shadows on the asphalt. When we reached my building, he paused. “Go on up.” “What about you?” “I’ll have a smoke and head out.” I watched him pull a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, flicking his lighter several times without success. “Don’t smoke,” I said. He paused, his thumb resting on the lighter. “Are you bossing me around?” “Yes.” He slid the pack back into his jacket pocket. “Fine.” He turned to leave, but I called after him. “You still owe me milk money.” His eyes lit up in the dim light. “I’ll pay you back tomorrow.” A guy with bleached blonde hair was lingering near the alley after school the next day. “Hey, beautiful, let’s hang out,” he sneered, blocking my path. I tried to walk around him, but he stepped in my way. Chase materialized from behind, pulling me back until I was shielded by his shoulder. “Back off,” Chase snarled. The guy laughed, sizing him up. “And who the hell are you?” Chase’s fist clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. I wrapped my hand around his wrist. “Don’t,” I whispered. The guy stepped closer, a smug grin on his face. “See? The lady has manners.” Before he could finish his sentence, I drove the heel of my boot straight into his kneecap. He let out a pathetic shriek, collapsing onto the pavement. I grabbed Chase’s wrist and bolted. We didn’t stop running until we were two blocks away. Chase was out of breath, a massive, disbelieving laugh escaping his chest. “You’re savage.” I let go of his wrist, catching my breath. “I had to be. I wasn’t going to let you get a police record over some creep.” He rubbed his wrist, looking at me with newfound respect. “That kick was incredibly precise.” “I took self-defense classes years ago.” He raised his eyebrows. “How much more is there to know about you?” “Plenty.” We walked side-by-side down the sidewalk. His fingers lightly brushed against the back of my hand. “Next time, let me handle it.” “Handle what?” “Protecting you.” I stopped and looked at him. “I don’t need protecting.” “Yes, you do.” “I really don’t.” He stopped in his tracks, his expression turning serious. “Sylvie.” “Yeah?” “Let me chase you.” I kept walking. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He caught up easily. “I am going to chase you.” “You think you can keep up?” “Let’s find out.” The bright lights of the convenience store welcomed us. He ran inside and emerged with a bottle of warm milk, his hands trembling slightly as he handed it to me. “Step one.” “What’s step one?” “First step of chasing you.” I took the bottle. “Chase.” “Yeah?” “Were you like this with Chelsea?” He froze. “Like what?” “Viciously persistent.” He shook his head. “No. Never.” “Really?” “I swear,” he said, scratching his head. “I was young back then. I didn’t know anything.” I took a sip of the milk. “And now you do?” “Yeah.” “What do you know?” He looked directly into my eyes, his gaze steady and intense. “I know exactly who I like.” I turned and headed into the stairwell. He followed me to the bottom step. “See you tomorrow.” “No, you won’t.” “Then the day after.” I looked back at him. He had a goofy, helpless grin on his face. “Goodnight, Sylvie.” My phone buzzed in my hand. How’s the milk? I replied: Average. I’ll get you something else tomorrow. Whatever. Another text: That blonde guy… I’ll be careful. I’m walking you home from now on. No. Yes, I am. I locked my screen and drifted off to sleep. My dreams were filled with the sound of the wind rushing past my ears as we ran. Finals week was creeping up, and my textbooks were giving me a massive headache. Chase slid into the seat next to mine. “What are you stuck on?” “Everything.” He took the book from my hands and flipped to the syllabus. “This part isn’t going to be on the exam.” “How do you know that?” “The teacher outlined the key chapters.” I stared at him. “When?” “Last week. When you were out sick.” He pulled a notebook from his backpack and tossed it onto my desk. “Copy mine.” His handwriting was incredibly messy. I flipped through the pages, squinting. “I can’t even read this.” He leaned in closer to point at the page. “Oh, that’s a mistake.” He pulled out a pen to correct it, his arm brushing against mine. “You’re warm,” I murmured. “Deal with it,” he said softly, continuing to explain the formula. His breath fanned against the side of my face. “Do you get it?” “A little.” He patiently started from the beginning again. After the final bell, he caught my arm. “We’re going to the library.” “Why?” “Tutoring.” “Are you going to charge me?” “Yes.” “What’s your fee?” He pretended to think about it. “A boba.” The library was dead silent, his voice dropping to a low whisper as he guided me through the chapters. I couldn’t stop yawning. “Focus,” he whispered. “I’m exhausted.” He lightly flicked my forehead with his finger. “Wake up.” I glared at him. He let out a quiet chuckle. “Don’t look at me like that.” “I’ll look at you however I want.” By the end of the session, my notebook was covered in circled formulas. He finished the last problem and closed the book. “Got it?” “Pretty much.” “What does ‘pretty much’ mean?” “It means I’ve got it.” He packed up his things. “Don’t cry when the grades come out.” “I’m not going to cry.” “We’ll see.” “Not happening.” After evening study hall, he shoved his notebook into my arms. “Keep it.” “I don’t want it.” “You have to take it.” “Why?” “Because I’m looking out for you.” The wind was blowing through his hair as we stood under the streetlamp. I clutched the notebook to my chest. “Chase.” “Yeah?” “Thank you.” The tips of his ears turned a shade of pink. “Don’t mention it.” He turned and walked away, then stopped after a few paces and looked back. “Same time tomorrow.” “Okay.” He trotted back to me. “Just ‘okay’?” “I understand.” He smirked. “Better.” My phone buzzed in my pocket. Text me when you’re home. I replied: I’m home. That was fast. I flew. Impressive. He stopped me right outside the classroom before the exam started. “Don’t stress.” “I’m not stressing.” “Your hands are shaking.” “I’m just cold.” He took my hands in his, wrapping his warm palms around my fingers. “How about now?” “Now they’re freezing,” I teased. He laughed, letting go of my hands. “Wait for me after the test.” “No.” “You have to.” The exam paper had several questions he’d spent hours explaining to me. I let out a massive sigh of relief as I handed it in. He was waiting in the corridor. “How did it go?” “It was fine.” “Which means you aced it.” He handed me a cold carton of milk. “Your reward.” “Just this?” “What else did you want?” As I reached for the carton, he suddenly leaned in close. A soft, warm pressure brushed against my cheek. I stood frozen in the middle of the hallway. He was already running down the corridor. “Chase!” I yelled. He looked back at the top of the stairs, a wicked grin on his face. “Now we’re even!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “463648”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After three years of long-distance and a grueling month of overtime, I had finally saved up enough time off to visit my boyfriend. But when I arrived, he was completely unreachable. I spent ten agonizing hours waiting alone in a strange city before he finally bothered to reply. When the phone finally rang, it wasn’t him. It was Rebecca, my best friend, her voice bright and giggling over the receiver. “Hazel, surprise! I got to explore Charleston first! It’s absolutely gorgeous here, and Darren has been the absolute perfect tour guide!” She babbled on, sharing little anecdotes of their day, completely oblivious—or pretending to be—to the thirty missed calls lighting up Darren’s screen. I listened in silence until she muttered something about the evening chill. That was when Darren finally took the phone from her. His tone was brief, clipped. “I’m going to drop her off at her hotel first. Wait for me a little longer.” Before he could hang up, the question slipped out of me. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting?” There was a sharp pause. When Darren spoke again, his voice had turned icy. “She’s your best friend, Hazel. Do you really have to turn this into a competition?” His blunt, defensive accusation drained every ounce of my desire to argue. I hung up. Just then, my ride-share back to Boston pulled up to the curb. The driver looked at me as I climbed in, his brow furrowed with concern. “Miss, it’s past midnight and this area isn’t exactly safe. How could your family just leave you out here alone?” I looked down at my shoes, soaked through with slush and freezing rain. “Yeah,” I whispered. Then, forcing a faint smile, I added, “They won’t. Never again.” … Darren didn’t realize I was gone until two hours later. When his calls started flooding in, I looked at his contact photo. His ringtone, whenever we were together, was a loud indie rock track that had gone viral a few months ago. I had never liked it. Once, I had playfully asked him to change it to some soft, instrumental music I loved. Darren’s reaction had been fiercely defensive. The cold, harsh edge of his voice still echoed in my mind. “Am I supposed to obey your every command?” Embarrassed and hurt, I had immediately apologized. But just moments ago, Rebecca had posted an update on her Instagram. A screenshot of that exact song, captioned: “Honestly, I recommended this song to a certain dummy three months ago and I’m totally sick of it, but he’s still using it as his ringtone. Unbelievable.” Darren had commented just three minutes prior: “Who are you calling a dummy?” Rebecca’s reply was instant: “You, dummy!” My phone kept vibrating with incoming calls. Suddenly, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. I wondered how many chambers Darren’s heart had, to be able to beat for two different women at the exact same time. When I didn’t answer, the calls stopped and the texts began. “Where the hell are you? Stop acting out, okay? It’s late and I’m exhausted.” Darren’s messages were filled with his usual irritation. As if sensing my silence, my driver spoke up again. “You know, miss,” he said, shaking his head. “Just two nights ago, there was an assault right at that station. The girl didn’t even make it. The whole city is on edge right now.” “That’s why I was so shocked to see you standing there. If you were my daughter, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep a wink tonight.” My fingers twitched, my eyes dropping back to the glowing screen. “Why are you being so unreasonable? So I was a little late picking you up, so what?” “Rebecca is a guest, and she’s your best friend. Why can’t you just be the bigger person?” My hands shook so hard I could barely hold the phone. A sharp, physical pain bloomed in my chest, like a blade scraping against my ribs. The driver noticed my trembling in the rearview mirror and panicked slightly. “Hey, hey, please don’t cry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” I wiped my eyes, shaking my head. For the first time, a strange sense of liberation washed over me. “No,” I said softly. “Thank you for telling me. Truly.” A final message from Darren popped up. “Whatever. I don’t have the energy to baby you right now. Let me know when you’ve calmed down.” Twenty-eight messages. Twenty-seven and a half of them were accusations. And he ended it by claiming he was too tired to “baby” me. Exhaustion rolled over me like a heavy tide. I turned off my phone, leaned my head against the cold glass window, and let myself fall asleep. By the time I woke up, we had arrived at my apartment building in Boston. Seeing how deeply I was sleeping, the kind driver had parked and waited for three hours without waking me. Deeply grateful, I tipped him an extra hundred dollars. He beamed, offering a warm, fatherly piece of advice before he left. “Get inside and change those shoes, kiddo. They’re soaked through.” “I will,” I promised, touched by his kindness. While waiting for the shower water to run hot, I checked my phone. Rebecca had posted another update. It was a photo of a trendy local boba tea shop. “Checking out this famous spot! My favorite boy stood in line for an hour just to get me this, but honestly, the taste is just average. I took one sip, and packed the rest up for ‘someone else.’” The “someone else” in the photo was Darren, captured in a candid shot, smiling softly at the camera. I stared at the image. I had never known that my boyfriend—the man so pathologically germophobic that he refused to share a water glass with me—would happily drink from another woman’s cup. I let out a soft, tired sigh and clicked the “like” button. Then, I dialed my manager’s number. “Mr. Collins, I’ve had a change of heart. Is that overseas project still open?” On the other end of the line, his tone shifted from surprise to pure relief. “Hazel, I’m so glad you’ve come to your senses. If you pull this project off, you’ll be looking at a double promotion when you return.” “And it’s only a year in France. Trust me, if it’s true love, a year is nothing.” I smiled quietly, offering no argument. The truth was, the moment I decided to take this assignment, my relationship was already over. I took my time in the hot shower, letting the steam soothe my aching muscles. When I came out, Rebecca’s post was gone. I felt a flicker of amusement. So, she wasn’t as utterly shameless as she wanted everyone to believe. Suddenly, Darren’s name flashed on my screen. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach, but I answered anyway. “Who are you trying to humiliate?” his voice boomed, sharp with anger. “You ignore my calls, ignore my texts, and then you go write passive-aggressive comments under Rebecca’s post?” He spoke with a rapid, defensive urgency—a protective instinct he had never once displayed for me. I felt a profound, heavy exhaustion settle into my bones. I had worked myself to the bone for a month, sacrificing sleep and sanity just to see him, only to end up here. “Darren,” I said quietly. “Whose boyfriend are you, exactly?” He went dead silent. The line stretched long and tense before he sighed, his voice dripping with disappointment. “Do you always have to make such a mountain out of a molehill?” Then, a soft, hesitant voice drifted through the speaker. “Darren… maybe I should talk to her.” It was Rebecca. I glanced at the clock. 11:00 PM. Which meant they had been together since 8:00 AM. “No,” Darren replied, his voice softening. “Don’t bother. The more you indulge her, the worse her tantrums get.” “But she’s my best friend…” Rebecca murmured. They whispered to each other, their voices dropping so low I couldn’t make out the words, before the line suddenly went dead. The easy, practiced intimacy of their exchange, the natural rhythm of their back-and-forth—it was a revelation. I realized then that their boundaries had crossed long before today. After a brief, restless nap, I woke to find my left foot swollen and throbbing from frostbite. Using an old cane I found in the closet, I managed to limp downstairs and hail a cab to the urgent care clinic. The doctor had to debride the blistered skin. I bit my lip so hard it bled to keep from crying out. Armed with a prescription and a bottle of painkillers, I finally headed home. But the moment I unlocked my apartment door, I bumped straight into a warm chest. The familiar, clean scent of his cologne filled my nose. Seeing me freeze in shock, Darren offered a gentle, charming smile. “Since you wouldn’t talk to me, I had no choice but to come to you.” A lump formed in my throat, but before I could say a word, he took the bag of medication from my hands. “What’s this?” “My foot is frostbitten.” “Oh,” he muttered, tossing the bag onto the entryway table without a second thought. He didn’t ask how it happened. He didn’t ask if it hurt. Just then, his phone blared with that irritating rock song. I didn’t hear what Rebecca said on the other end, but Darren laughed out loud, teasing her playfully. “Hey, if you tell me to jump, how can I say no?” The tiny spark of warmth that had flared in my chest died instantly, leaving behind a cold, hollow ache. I limped past him to the kitchen, popped two pills out of the blister pack, and swallowed them dry. Darren hung up, walked over, and wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Don’t be mad anymore,” he murmured coaxingly. “My phone was on silent that day. When I found out you left, I was miserable the whole night.” I smirked faintly. The photos of his bright, easy smile the next morning certainly didn’t look like those of a miserable man. “Besides, she’s visited me a few times now,” he continued. “I just wanted to get her settled quickly so I could focus entirely on you…” My hand froze on my water glass. “She visits you often?” He chuckled. “Are you jealous? Don’t worry, she’s basically one of the guys. Not my type at all.” “We’re just occasional travel buddies. It’s only because you’re always so busy.” Eager to change the subject, Darren announced he was going to take a shower. Before heading to the bathroom, he made a point to grab his phone. A few minutes later, he called out from the bathroom, asking me to bring him his loungewear. I grabbed a set, but when I pushed the door open, I caught him hastily flipping his phone face down on the counter. He wiped the water from his face and offered a quick, guilty grin. “Thanks, babe.” The door clicked shut again. I didn’t walk away. Within seconds, Rebecca’s giggling voice echoed through the thin door. “Oh my god, why does this feel like we’re having an affair?” Darren’s reply was lazy, nonchalant. “You know how sensitive your best friend is. She’s paranoid.” Rebecca hummed, her voice taking on a suggestive, teasing lilt. “Alright, show me those abs again. I didn’t get a good look earlier!” “You pervert,” Darren teased back. I walked away, unable to listen to any more of it. When Darren finally came out of the bathroom an hour later, his face was flushed, his eyes bright with a hungry, restless energy. It was obvious he was turned on. Without even turning off the lights, he crawled onto the bed and lunged toward me. I placed a firm hand against his chest, stopping him. My voice was completely flat. “We don’t have any condoms.” Darren froze, the words slipping out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Rebecca said it’s fine if you’re in your safe window.” I stared at him, a wave of pure disgust washing over me. “You talk to her about our sex life?” “No, it’s not like that,” Darren stammered, running a hand through his damp hair. But as he caught my gaze and realized there was no lying his way out of this, his tone turned defensive. “Come on, she’s not a stranger.” I looked at him—really looked at him. Every word, every defensive posture, every micro-expression was a testament to his loyalty to her, not me. I felt like the intruder in my own life. The thought of sharing a bed with him made my stomach turn. “Sleep in the guest room tonight,” I said. Darren stared at me, dumbfounded. “Because of this?” he scoffed. “I traveled all this way to see you, and you’re putting me in the guest room?” “So the only reason you came here was for sex?” Darren glared at me, his jaw clenched in anger. For a brief moment, I saw the perfect opening to end it. I opened my mouth to speak, but before the words could form, he grabbed his pillow and slammed the door behind him. I closed my mouth, turned off the lamp, and went to sleep. I slept surprisingly well that night. When I woke up, there was an email from Mr. Collins with my flight details. “Tomorrow at noon. Don’t be late.” I replied with a quick confirmation and got out of bed to wash up. But the moment I pulled open the bathroom door, a high-pitched shriek pierced the quiet apartment. I froze, startled, but before I could close the door, a figure rushed past me from behind and slammed it shut. “Why don’t you ever knock?” Darren snapped, his tone sharp. For a second, the sheer absurdity of it made me feel like a stranger in my own home. “Why is Rebecca here?” I asked. Darren shrugged carelessly. “She missed you.” In the two years I had rented this apartment, she had never visited once. But the moment Darren arrived, she suddenly “missed” me. I didn’t bother arguing. When Rebecca finally walked out of the bathroom, she offered me a casual wave and slid onto one of the dining chairs. Darren slid a plate containing a fried egg in front of her. She took a bite, her eyes lighting up. “You always know exactly how I like it. Perfect runny yolk.” Darren smirked, clearly pleased with himself. Then, he slid another plate toward me. “Can’t say I’m biased. I made one for you, too.” I stared at the fork in my hand, unable to bring myself to pick it up. I hated runny yolks. We had been together for six years, and he still didn’t know the most basic things about me. “Darren, carry me in our game later!” Rebecca pleaded, playfully nudging his leg under the table. “You’re too bad at it. No way,” he teased. “Come on, are we best buds or what? Help a girl out!” As she spoke, she slid her chair closer, brushing her thigh flush against his. In her excitement, her loose-fitting pajama top shifted, revealing far too much skin. My mind went blank. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Darren’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he subtly shifted his chair an inch away. A wave of pure nausea hit my throat. My fork clattered against the plate. I turned to look directly at Rebecca, who was still practically draped over my boyfriend. “Did I fail to mention that we are no longer friends?” She froze, her playful expression cracking into embarrassment. She clearly hadn’t expected me to call her out so bluntly. Darren frowned, looking between us. “You guys had a fight? When?” I looked at him, delivering each word with deliberate precision. “Four days ago. When she insisted on tagging along to visit you, and I said no.” She had been so resentful of that boundary that she had flown out to see him ahead of me, just to prove she could. “Just because of that?” Darren asked, that familiar, incredulous look returning to his face. It wasn’t just that, of course. For the past year, Rebecca had systematically sabotaged our time together. Every time I planned a trip to see Darren, she would suddenly cling to me, begging me to go on a trip with her or claiming she was too sick to be left alone. When Darren and I bought couple’s rings, she went out and bought a nearly identical band to wear on her own finger. I wasn’t blind. I had cut ties with her as gracefully as I could. But I never imagined someone could be this utterly shameless. Rebecca slowly rose from her chair, her eyes welling with tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’ll leave.” With a loud crash, Darren stood up so abruptly that his chair tipped backward. He stepped directly in front of her, shielding her. “If you’re kicking her out, then I’m leaving too,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “Then leave,” I replied instantly. My face was a mask of cold, unbothered calm. For a split second, Darren’s mind seemed to go completely blank. In all our years together, I had never once told him to leave. Even when we fought, I was always the one to apologize first, the one to smooth things over. But I was so, so tired. Darren didn’t move. He stood there, jaw clenched tight, glaring at me with stubborn disbelief. Rebecca let out a dramatic sniffle, grabbed his hand, and began tugging him toward the door. “Come on, Darren, let’s go. How can she treat us like this?” “If you let her walk all over you like this, she’ll only treat you worse next time!” Ultimately, he let her pull him out the door. The moment the door clicked shut, a profound sense of relief washed over me. I stood up, picked up my plate, and scraped the runny egg directly into the trash. Then, I walked into my bedroom and began packing my bags. As I was winding down for bed that evening, my friend Grace sent me a flurry of messages. “Oh my god, Hazel, you will not believe what I just saw!” She attached a video. It was Darren and Rebecca, walking through a high-end shopping district in downtown Boston. Rebecca’s arm was hooked tightly through his, her body pressed flush against his side. They looked like any other young couple in the honeymoon phase of a relationship. Maybe they had been doing this long before I ever found out. Grace was absolutely livid. “They are utterly shameless! They’re basically cheating on you in broad daylight! After everything you’ve done for both of them, I cannot let this slide.” A warning bell went off in my head, and I started typing a reply to stop her. But before I could hit send, my phone screen flashed with a FaceTime call from Grace. I answered, only to find her marching right up to them like a furious lioness. She pointed her camera directly at them and let loose. “You two are absolutely pathetic! Darren, how can you look yourself in the mirror after what you’ve done to Hazel?” “When you were a broke college student who couldn’t even afford groceries, who was the one saving her own allowance to feed you?” “And you, Rebecca! You snake. Hazel literally got you your job. You wouldn’t even have a foot in the door at that firm if it weren’t for her!” Rebecca’s face hardened. She showed no remorse. “Did I force her to help me?” she sneered. “Enough! Both of you, shut up!” Darren suddenly roared, stepping between them. He looked directly into the camera lens, his expression remarkably composed. “Hazel, we need to talk. You’re completely misunderstanding this.” “I’ll come over tomorrow morning and explain everything.” Grace yelled one last insult at him and slammed her thumb on the end-call button. I let out a long sigh, spent some time calming Grace down over the phone, and then lay down to sleep. I had a long flight to France the next day. I woke up at nine the next morning. I had a quiet breakfast and waited for Darren to show up and “explain everything.” But by eleven, he still hadn’t arrived. I felt no anger, no disappointment. Just a vast, empty space where my feelings used to be. I grabbed my suitcase and locked the apartment door behind me. My phone rang. It was Darren, his voice frantic and out of breath. “Hazel, I’ll have to come by this afternoon. Rebecca suddenly got food poisoning, and I have to rush her to the ER.” “Okay,” I said. Perhaps because he had broken his word so many times before, he paused, a rare note of genuine apology creeping into his tone. “Just wait for me, okay? I’ll make it up to you.” I didn’t answer. I hung up the phone. Then, I systematically blocked and deleted his contact info from every app and social platform. After a long, dreamless sleep on the flight, I finally landed in France. As I walked out of the airport terminal with my luggage, my phone rang. It was my landlady back in Boston. Her voice sounded tense, almost panicked. “Hazel, there’s a young man standing outside your old apartment door. He’s been there for hours and refuses to leave. Should I call the police?” “Yes,” I replied calmly, flagging down a taxi. “Go ahead.” Apparently, Darren had been waiting long enough to hear the exchange. The moment he realized who my landlady was talking to, he desperately snatched the phone from her hand.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “463665”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

For five years, I hand-prepared premium, raw-food diets for the delicate, show-grade Ragdoll cats belonging to the elite social circle of the Heights. I charged them a neighborly rate of sixty dollars a portion. Then, the new summer intern decided to make a scene in our group chat. “Are you serious? Sixty dollars for a tiny container of minced meat?” she wrote, followed by a series of crying-laughing emojis. “Chicken breast costs less than ten dollars a pound! Is it really this easy to fleece wealthy women?” Before anyone could reply, she dropped a cute, wide-eyed kitten sticker. “From now on, I’ll handle the babies’ meals! Only twenty-five dollars a portion. I’m fresh out of college and don’t need the money—I just love animals and want to get to know you lovely ladies better~” Watching the members of the chat immediately start canceling their orders and leaving my group, I quietly locked my phone. A slow, genuine smile spread across my face. Finally. This thankless, money-losing chore was no longer my problem. 01 “I’ve left the group,” I replied to Vicky Davenport’s final direct message. Her response came almost instantly. “Don’t be so petty, Gwen. Lexie is just young and trying to help us save a little money.” “We appreciated your help over the years, of course. But none of us grows money on trees. You were making a fifty-dollar profit on every single box. You’ve taken enough from us these past few years, haven’t you?” “Let’s just go our separate ways from now on. And please, don’t go spreading rumors about us behind our backs.” I stared at the three consecutive bubbles on my screen. Without replying, I hit block. A second later, my phone vibrated with an incoming audio call. It was Lexie. The very intern who had just promised to underbid my life’s work for twenty-five dollars. I pressed accept. “Gwen, sweetie, please don’t be mad at me~” Lexie’s voice was sugary sweet, laced with a thin layer of condescension. “I honestly just couldn’t bear to see the ladies spending so much unnecessary cash.” “I can easily whip up those meat blends using cheap chicken scraps from the local butcher. It’s barely ten dollars for a whole batch. How did you sleep at night charging them sixty?” I looked down at the wooden crate sitting on my kitchen floor. Inside, packed in dry ice, was fresh New Zealand venison venison loin, flown in just this morning. Ragdolls are famous for their incredibly sensitive digestive systems. For five long years, I had never used cheap scraps. I used human-grade Australian rabbit and New Zealand venison. Each portion was meticulously balanced with Norwegian krill oil, natural taurine, and organic dietary fiber. Every batch underwent a seventy-two-hour deep-freeze sterilization process at minus sixty degrees. My cost per portion hovered around eighty dollars. At sixty dollars, I was losing money on every single order. Lexie kept babbling. “So, Gwen, could you send over your supplier contacts and let me know what grinder you use? Since you won’t be needing them anymore, we might as well share the resources. Think of it as good karma~” “We’re in the same field, after all. Surely you aren’t so small-minded that you’d hold a grudge?” “Sure,” I interrupted calmly. I copied the link to my New Zealand venison importer and sent it to her, along with the specification page for my commercial-grade, high-precision freeze-grinder. Three seconds passed. Lexie sent a voice note, her voice shrill and panicked: “Are you insane? A five-thousand-dollar grinder? And this meat is eighty dollars a pound? You’re deliberately trying to mess with me!” “They’re just rich, clueless women. You can throw any cheap meat in a blender and they won’t know the difference. Why are you acting like you’re above it all?” “A greedy scammer like you deserves to be cast out!” I blocked her number without a word. Then, I went through my contact list and deleted every single member of that neighborhood group. For years, they had fed their prized pets premium raw food funded by my own bank account, only to turn around and accuse me of gouging them. I was finally rid of them. My phone buzzed again. It was Dr. Evans, the director of the city’s most prestigious veterinary hospital. “Gwen, I have a major contract for you. Are you taking clients?” “Go on,” I said, leaning against my stainless-steel counter. “Mr. Harrington—the top CFA breeder—just imported a new line of champion-pedigree Ragdolls. They’re valued in the six figures, and he’s entering them in the national exhibition next month.” “He needs a custom, elite-tier raw diet. His standards are incredibly exacting.” I pulled on a pair of sterile gloves and looked at my pristine prep station. “I’ll take it.” “My base formula starts at three hundred a portion. For show-grade custom nutrition, it’s five hundred,” I quoted, giving him the actual market rate for my expertise. Dr. Evans didn’t hesitate. “Harrington doesn’t care about the price. He only cares about hiring the best veterinary nutritionist in the state. Come by the clinic tomorrow morning. He’s bringing the cats in for their baseline panels, and you can meet him.” “Sounds good.” After hanging up, I browsed the local community pet forum. Pinned right at the top of the homepage was a post Lexie had uploaded ten minutes prior. The title was bold and obnoxious: “Saving the pockets of our neighborhood queens! Unboxing my premium $25 custom cat food~” Beneath it was a gallery of nine photos. Large plastic tubs were filled with a dark, purplish-red meat paste. The texture looked coarse, with a greasy sheen on the surface and dark pools of separated blood pooling at the edges. The comment section was already flooded. Vicky Davenport had left the first comment. “Lexie, this is amazing! Look at that rich color. It looks so fresh!” “So much better than that pale, sickly-looking mush Gwen used to bring us.” Several other women quickly chimed in. “Exactly. When my cat ate Gwen’s food, his stool barely had any odor. That must mean he wasn’t digesting it properly.” “Twenty-five dollars for a massive tub. We were so blind to let ourselves get ripped off for so long.” “We’re signing up for a monthly subscription, Lexie! Let’s show that greedy Gwen that we won’t support scammers!” I stared at the screen, my expression cold. Ragdolls have incredibly fragile gastrointestinal tracts. The consequences of feeding them low-grade, contaminated meat would show up soon enough. But I wrote nothing. I closed the browser, turned back to my prep station, and began inventorying the premium ingredients for tomorrow’s consultation. 02 Lexie was practically living in her comment section, replying to every single post. “Thank you so much for the trust, ladies~” “Handcrafted with pure love for your fur babies! I’m just glad I could save you all from being taken advantage of!” “And honestly, who knows what those weird, mysterious powders some people add to their food actually are? Pure, natural meat is always best~” I scrolled past her photos with detached indifference. The dark, muddy color of her meat paste was a dead giveaway. It was clearly made from expired, freezer-burned trimmings sourced from a low-end distributor. My formulas were a pale, delicate pink because they consisted of pure rabbit loin and organic turkey breast. Dark, oxidized meat in raw pet food usually pointed to only one thing. Diana, the only woman from the old group who hadn’t joined the mass exodus, sent me a private message. She attached several screenshots from their main chat. In the screenshots, Diana had asked: “Lexie, why is the meat so dark? Will the cats get upset stomachs?” Lexie had replied with an innocent, wide-eyed emoji. “Oh, Diana, that’s just because it’s packed with natural iron!” “I went out of my way to get throat and neck trimmings directly from the slaughterhouse. It’s the absolute most nutrient-dense part of the animal!” “Most people can’t even buy this cut. I had to use a special family connection to get it~” Vicky Davenport immediately validated her. “Lexie goes above and beyond! Gwen would never spend her time sourcing such rich meat for us.” Diana sent me a long, hesitant voice note. “Gwen… are you sure this is safe to feed them? I opened the container Lexie delivered, and it smells incredibly metallic, almost rancid.” I typed out a direct, clinical response. “Neck trimmings are where the animal’s lymph nodes are concentrated.” “They are filled with metabolic waste, localized bacteria, and parasite cysts.” “Feeding unsterilized lymph tissue to a Ragdoll is a guaranteed path to acute gastroenteritis.” “If the meat contains salmonella or toxoplasma, it can easily be fatal.” Diana sent back a horrified emoji. “I’m throwing it out. I’m not feeding this to my baby.” “That’s your choice,” I replied, ending the conversation. The next morning, I arrived at Dr. Evans’s clinic right on time. In the private VIP suite, a refined man in his late forties was waiting beside several beautiful, large-boned Ragdolls. These cats were magnificent—perfectly proportioned with deep sapphire eyes and thick, silky coats. Mr. Harrington stood up and offered his hand. “Gwen. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” “Dr. Evans tells me you are the only nutritionist in the region capable of formulating a true competition-grade raw diet.” I set down the chilled samples I had brought. Inside the vacuum-sealed glass containers were pale, smooth pâtés of fresh venison and rabbit rib. “This is the baseline formula,” I explained. “Fortified with cold-extracted green-lipped mussel lipid and wild-caught krill oil.” Mr. Harrington took a small sterile spoon and offered a taste to his prized male, a massive champion named Poseidon. Poseidon was notoriously finicky, according to his files. But the cat sniffed the pâté once and immediately began licking the spoon clean, purring softly. Mr. Harrington’s eyes lit up. “Incredible. The moisture retention and texture are exceptional.” “I have twelve cats entering the national show next month. I want you to handle their entire dietary regimen.” “I’ve already wired a five-thousand-dollar deposit to your account.” My phone chimed in my pocket with the bank notification. “It’s a pleasure working with you, Mr. Harrington,” I said. On my way home, I stopped by my specialized cold-chain importer to pick up the fresh cuts for the coming week. As I drove, my phone buzzed repeatedly in the console. Diana was still forwarding screenshots from the neighborhood group. Vicky was boasting. “My sweet Casper just ate a whole bowl!” “He never ate this fast when we fed him Gwen’s bland food.” “Lexie really knows what she’s doing. Cats know quality!” Lexie had quickly jumped in. “I’m so happy Casper loves it! Like I said, those strange chemical powders the other seller used must have ruined the natural flavor.” “Cats naturally reject artificial additives. This is just a clean, raw detox~” The “strange chemical powders” she was referring to were high-grade probiotics and organic psyllium husk—essential for preventing bacterial overgrowth and blockages in raw-fed indoor cats. The other ladies were frantic to place orders. “Lexie, sign me up for a monthly plan!” “Me too! Daily hand-deliveries, please!” “You’re an absolute angel, Lexie!” I put my phone on silent, pressed down on the gas, and drove toward my private, temperature-controlled laboratory. 03 My workspace was silent save for the low, rhythmic hum of the cleanroom air filtration system. I changed into full protective gear, passed through the air shower to remove any micro-dust, and stepped into the sterile formulation room. Mr. Harrington’s twelve champions required diets balanced down to the exact gram. I washed the rabbit ribs under high-pressure purified water, trimmed away every trace of tough connective tissue, and fed them into my commercial grinder. I added the precise ratios of pure, clinical-grade supplements. The machine hummed smoothly, dispensing a pale pink, mousse-like blend. I portioned the meals into vacuum-sealed pouches, labeled each with the exact preparation date and nutritional breakdown, and placed them into the blast freezer at minus seventy-six degrees Fahrenheit. Only this extreme temperature could completely eliminate any potential pathogens or parasites. After four hours of intense, uninterrupted labor, I pulled off my gloves and checked my phone. My screen was covered in notifications. Diana had sent over a dozen frantic text messages in the last thirty minutes. I opened the first one. “Gwen! Vicky’s cat is having severe diarrhea!” The next message followed immediately. “It’s not just Vicky. Lydia’s British Shorthair is projectile-vomiting all over her house!” I opened the attached screenshots of the neighborhood group chat. Vicky had uploaded a picture of her litter box. The stool was a watery, foul-looking yellow-brown mess. She had tagged Lexie. “Lexie, is this normal? Casper has never had loose stools like this before.” Lexie’s reply was instantaneous. “Oh, Vicky, don’t worry! Loose stool is a classic sign of a healthy detox reaction~” “Your baby has been eating Gwen’s chemical-laden food for years, so his system is full of built-up toxins.” “My natural raw diet is just purging his digestive tract.” “Keep feeding him the transition meals, and his system will be completely clean in a few days!” The explanation was medically absurd. But Vicky bought it completely. “That makes sense. Heaven knows what kind of garbage Gwen was actually putting in those containers!” “You’re so right, Lexie. Detox is a good thing. I’ll give Casper another portion tonight to help him flush it out.” Lydia chimed in. “My cat’s stool smells absolutely horrific today, but it must be the toxins leaving his body.” “Thank goodness we found Lexie. Otherwise, our cats would still be slowly poisoned by Gwen.” I locked my screen. In Ragdolls, persistent soft stool is the first warning sign of severe mucosal lining damage in the intestines. Continuing to feed them unsterilized, bacteria-laden lymph tissue would inevitably lead to hemorrhagic enteritis. But they had made their choice. I packed Mr. Harrington’s custom orders into a specialized cooler and scheduled a professional cold-chain courier to deliver them. Two hours later, Mr. Harrington sent me a video. His twelve pristine Ragdolls were licking their bowls spotless. Not a single cat showed any signs of discomfort. His voice message was filled with quiet satisfaction. “Gwen, this blend is spectacular.” “I can already see a difference in their coats. You truly are an artist.” “Keep this up, and we’ll take every ribbon at the show,” I replied. By eleven that night, I had shut down the laboratory and was preparing to turn in. Suddenly, my phone screen began to flash violently. The chime of incoming alerts was relentless. Diana had sent a video. It was shaky and out of focus. Vicky’s thirty-thousand-dollar champion Ragdoll, Casper, was collapsed on the floor beside his litter box. His hind legs were twitching weakly. The floor around him was covered in bloody fluid mixed with undigested, dark red meat. The cat was foaming at the mouth, his chest heaving in shallow, spasmodic gasps. Diana’s voice notes were high-pitched with panic. “Gwen! Look at this! Casper is dying!” “Vicky is losing her mind in the group!” “Lexie is claiming it’s because of some delayed poison you left in the cat’s system!” “She’s telling everyone you used toxic preservatives that slowly destroyed his liver over the years, and it’s only showing up now!” 04 I opened the screenshots Diana had forwarded. The neighborhood pet group had descended into absolute madness. Vicky had posted several panicked voice notes, her voice cracking with tears. “Casper can’t stand up! He’s throwing up blood!” “He’s a champion-line import! He cost me thirty thousand dollars!” “The show is next month! What do I do? Someone help me!” Lexie had immediately jumped in to redirect the blame. “Vicky, take a deep breath! This is absolutely not because of my fresh meat!” “I watched the butcher cut it myself!” “This is definitely a delayed reaction to whatever Gwen was feeding him for years!” “A chronic liver toxicity like this only shows up when the body finally tries to heal itself!” She added a crying emoji. “Gwen must have known I was taking over the business, so she left a slow-acting poison in her last batches. How can anyone be so malicious?” The other women immediately turned their fury on me. “Call the police! She needs to be arrested!” “To think we trusted her for years. This is animal abuse!” “My cat threw up bile today too! It’s definitely Gwen’s fault!” I went back to the video Diana had sent and zoomed in on the pool of bloody discharge. Near the edge of the fluid, tiny, pale, translucent threads were writhing slowly. Roundworms. A classic, textbook consequence of feeding raw, unsterilized meat that had never been subjected to professional flash-freezing. But raw parasites alone wouldn’t cause immediate foaming at the mouth and hind-limb paralysis. That level of acute neurological distress and systemic collapse pointed to a severe, systemic salmonella infection that had triggered acute hemorrhagic pancreatitis. That thirty-thousand-dollar cat was already halfway to the grave. Suddenly, my screen lit up with a notification from the group. Lexie had tagged my secondary account—the one I had left in the group chat to observe. “@Gwen, why are you hiding? Come out and face us!” “What kind of poison did you feed these innocent animals?” “Casper is in critical condition. You are going to pay every dime of his vet bills!” “I knew you were a fraud from the start, but this is downright criminal!” Vicky followed immediately. “Gwen, if Casper dies, I will sue you for everything you own!” “Show yourself and pay for what you did!” “You’re a sick, twisted monster who doesn’t deserve to be near animals!”

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