Category: English

For the ninth time, the tabloids caught my wife nestled in the arms of another man. Furious over the intimate photos plastered all over the internet, she directed her rage at me, landing a stinging slap across my cheek. “I told you Jace and I were discussing a script in that hotel room,” she spat, her eyes blazing. “I explicitly told you to keep watch outside and look out for paparazzi. How can you be so utterly useless?” She pointed a manicured finger at my chest. “You better fix this mess immediately. Jace is the top idol our agency just debuted. He cannot afford a single scandal.” I slowly raised a hand to my burning, swollen cheek. My voice came out startlingly calm. “Let us get a divorce.” “Once we are divorced, you two won’t have to sneak around anymore. And he won’t be branded with the ugly reputation of seducing a married woman.” Natalie let out a sharp, mocking laugh. A look of pure contempt twisted her beautiful features. “Arthur, have I been too lenient with you?” “You think you have grown some backbone, daring to demand a divorce from me?” “You eat my food. You spend my money. If it weren’t for me, you would still be a pathetic security guard rotting at a front gate!” “Have you gotten so comfortable in your life of luxury that you forgot who you really are?” She crossed her arms, glaring down at me. “Fine. You want a divorce? I will grant it. But you leave with absolutely nothing. You will not get a single cent of my fortune!” 1 Inside our sprawling home, Natalie threw the printed divorce papers right at my face. She had just printed them out. Her expression was dripping with disdain. “You are the one who asked for this. I am not forcing you!” “Did you really think a cheap stunt like this would threaten me, Arthur?” “Have I treated you so well lately that you actually believed you had the upper hand?” “If you have any guts at all, sign it. Do not dawdle and make me look down on you even more.” She looked so incredibly certain of herself, her face radiating arrogant mockery. I looked back at her. She felt like a total stranger. The Natalie standing before me was a completely different person from the woman I had fallen in love with all those years ago. The only constant in this world is the fickleness of the human heart. At this very moment, the true weight of that phrase finally crushed me. I picked up a pen and signed the papers. I kept one copy and handed the other back to her. Natalie froze. A fleeting flicker of panic crossed her eyes. She clearly had not anticipated that I would actually put my name on the dotted line. I kept my voice perfectly steady. “The papers are signed. There is a mandatory thirty day waiting period. Once the month is over, we will go to the courthouse and make it official.” “I am moving out today. I will pack my things and be out of your hair.” “If you want to bring Jace here, that is your business now. Just be careful not to get caught by the cameras again.” “Endure it for one more month and you will be completely free. Even if you want to marry him after that, nobody will have a right to judge you.” Natalie took a few ragged breaths. My calm demeanor seemed to infuriate her even more. She let out a cold, sarcastic sneer. “I do not believe for a second you actually want to leave me!” “Everything you possess right now is because of me.” “The moment you walk out that door, you are nothing.” “It is easy to go from rags to riches, but impossible to go back to the gutter. I highly doubt you can so easily throw away this life of wealth and privilege.” “If you want to leave, I won’t stop you.” “I will give you one month. I expect you to come crawling back, begging on your knees for my forgiveness!” Without waiting for my reply, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the house. I stared at the divorce papers on the table. My eyes stung. My nose felt incredibly raw. I wanted to cry. But I had no tears left to shed. Natalie used to be my guiding light during my darkest days. Her presence alone gave me the courage to face life again. Back then, we were inseparable. I honestly believed God was finally smiling down on me. Yet, a few years into our marriage, her patience with me began to erode. Countless times, I caught her in the arms of other men, drinking and laughing the night away. I used to confront her, fighting with her out of pure heartbreak and anger. Every single time, she would roll her eyes in sheer annoyance. “Arthur, do you not understand how networking functions?” “I am a top tier producer in the entertainment industry. If I actually wanted to mess around, I could have any man I desire. Why would I have bothered marrying you?” “I told you from the start. We are married, but you do not get to restrict my freedom or interfere with my career.” “Can you please grow up? Stop being so suffocating and petty.” Time and time again, she trampled all over my boundaries. In her eyes, I was so hopelessly dependent on her that I would never leave. That was why she felt so emboldened to flaunt her intimate affairs in public. Did she really not understand that love is never a one sided sacrifice? She definitely understood. She simply did not care. I was exhausted. I refused to drag out a toxic relationship that left me bruised and bleeding. Even if leaving her meant losing everything I had, I could not stomach another day as her pathetic shadow. Natalie, I am setting you free. And I am finally freeing myself. 2 I was an orphan. I never knew my biological parents or if they were even alive. My foster parents were poor but incredibly kind to me. When I graduated middle school, they perished in a tragic accident. Their greedy relatives immediately swooped in and seized the meager estate, tossing me out onto the streets. I drifted. I worked in sweatshops and delivered takeout in the pouring rain, doing whatever it took to keep myself fed. But fate seemed to hold a personal grudge against me. A severe illness struck me down. I spent half a month confined to a hospital bed. Not only did it drain every penny of my savings, but it also buried me under a mountain of medical debt. Discharged and utterly devoid of hope, I stumbled upon a hiring notice for security guards at Crescent Hill Estates. Blessed with a decent build and a clean face, I landed the job easily. And then, I met Natalie. She was three years older than me, a wealthy resident of the estate who drove a flashy sports car. My younger colleagues and I used to sit around the guardhouse, daydreaming. “Man, if a gorgeous rich woman like her took a liking to me, I would gladly shave twenty years off my lifespan!” “I heard a story about a handsome guard who got picked up by a millionaire. She gave him a massive allowance, a luxury car, and a mansion. Dude hit the jackpot just by having a nice face.” “Yeah, but I also heard that woman was pushing fifty. When her crazy son found out, he hired thugs to break the guy’s legs and ruin his face.” “Playing with the rich is a gamble. You might just lose your life.” Young men always harbor unrealistic fantasies about an easy life. I never expected my idle daydream to morph into reality. Late one night, walking back to my cramped rental after a grueling shift, I found Natalie completely intoxicated. She was hunched beside her sports car, violently throwing up. When she tried to stand, her legs buckled. A group of shady men was circling her like vultures. She slurred curses at them, but they grabbed her arms, whispering aggressively. Seeing this, I did not hesitate. I sprinted forward. With a few precise punches and kicks, I sent the thugs crashing to the pavement. I initially thought they were trying to take advantage of a drunk woman in the dark. It turned out they were sleazy paparazzi trying to extort celebrity secrets from her in her vulnerable state. Once the paparazzi scattered, Natalie slumped against the car door, dead to the world. I had no idea how much she had consumed. No matter how much I shook her or called her name, she remained unresponsive. I could not leave her alone on a dangerous street corner. I fished her keys out of her designer purse, unlocked the doors, and gently settled her into the backseat. I slid into the driver’s seat and navigated the roaring sports car back to Crescent Hill Estates. The other guards’ jaws practically hit the floor when they saw me rolling through the gates with the incapacitated heiress. I carried her inside. The sheer opulence of her mansion left me breathless. But I only admired it from afar. I harbored no ulterior motives. Having lived over two decades feeling cursed by the heavens, I never craved immense wealth. I only wanted a warm meal and a roof over my head. I tucked the sleeping Natalie into her plush bed and quietly slipped out into the night. The moment I returned to my tiny apartment, the loan sharks cornered me at my door. Several burly men glared at me, cracking their knuckles. Their leader, a blonde punk with a scarred brow, spoke with icy precision. “Arthur, your payment is three months overdue.” “I know times are tough, but business is business. You owe fifty thousand dollars. With the pathetic wage you make as a guard, when exactly are you going to clear this debt?” “Take my advice. Drop this ridiculous pride of yours. In this world, people laugh at the poor, not the escorts. A lack of cash can break the strongest of men.” “Brenda made an offer. Keep her company for a month, and she wipes your debt clean.” “Opportunities like this do not come twice.” “Cash in on your youth. Spend a few years pleasing rich women, and you will never have to worry about rent again.” Brenda was a notoriously wealthy, bad tempered woman in her fifties. She had a reputation for keeping young companions, and an even darker reputation for how terribly they ended up. Because I couldn’t afford my hospital bills, I had taken out a high interest loan. Just as they pointed out, my meager salary would never cover the ballooning interest. Was I really going to sink this low? Was I going to sell my dignity, my own body, just to satisfy the sickening desires of a wealthy predator? I did not sleep a wink that night. When dawn broke, I dragged my exhausted body to work, fully intending to hand in my resignation. But when I arrived at the guardhouse, Natalie was already there, waiting for me. She looked at me with a peculiar expression. She asked if I wanted to be her personal bodyguard and driver. When she found out about the crippling medical debt weighing me down, she generously wrote a check and cleared it instantly. From that day forward, I became the ultimate legend in the guards’ group chat. Over time, Natalie and I grew closer. Our relationship naturally blossomed, leading us to the altar. People whispered that I was the luckiest bastard alive. Their eyes burned with envy and spite. I never cared. I saw Natalie as the singular light of my existence, treating her with an almost religious reverence. My love for her was saturated with deep gratitude and total humility. Without her, I would have been swallowed whole by the abyss. I truly believed the heavens had finally shown me mercy. Only after a few years of marriage did I realize the happiness I clung to was just a cruel, elaborate joke. 3 I packed my clothes and dragged my suitcase out the front door. I planned to stay at a hotel for the time being. But when I handed my card to the receptionist, she gave me an awkward, pitying look. “Sir, it appears your card has been frozen.” I froze, but the realization hit me instantly. Natalie had cut me off. The premium card was a supplementary one she had issued to me. I had used it for all my daily expenses over the years. I checked my digital wallet on my phone. My personal balance hovered around a pathetic fifty dollars. If I paid for this room, I would be broke by tomorrow morning. Under the receptionist’s uncomfortable gaze, I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and walked back out into the street. I eventually found a cheap youth hostel. For a few dollars a night, I secured a bunk in a crowded dormitory. Since Natalie had frozen my accounts, I figured my position at her company was also history. Right on cue, my phone rang. The HR director’s voice was devoid of any professional courtesy. “Arthur, come to the office. Pack your garbage and get out.” Before I could even formulate a reply, the line went dead. Even though I fully expected to be fired, hearing the sheer contempt in his voice made a heavy sigh escape my lips. For years, I stood loyally by Natalie’s side, managing countless crises for her entertainment agency. I never took a single paycheck from the company. It belonged to my wife, so I gave my blood, sweat, and tears willingly, without keeping score. But the moment I was so casually discarded, I realized how incredibly foolish my devotion had been. I remembered the early days, sitting with ruthless entertainment investors. They demanded Natalie drink two full bottles of hard liquor before they would even glance at her proposal. I stepped up, risking alcohol poisoning, and downed every last drop to protect her. It was exactly because of sacrifices like that that her company gained a solid foothold in the industry and expanded into an empire. I held the title of Vice President. Though the employees treated me with surface level respect, they snickered behind my back, claiming I slept my way to the top. I used to ignore their toxic whispers. But now, I no longer had a place in that building. I had no desire to linger and be the subject of their cruel gossip. When I stepped into the lobby, the employees stared at me with bizarre expressions, whispering openly. “Natalie posted those sweet photos hugging Jace yesterday, and Arthur is actually just taking it!” “He is just a gold digger. Word is he used to be a dirty security guard. He got lucky marrying the boss.” “Calling it a marriage is generous. He is basically a stray dog Natalie took in.” “The boss has been linked to half a dozen young idols over the years. This loser is probably used to the humiliation by now.” “Look at all those green hats he is wearing. I cannot believe he hasn’t snapped!”

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My dog destroyed his bed, so I hunted down a second hand crib on a local marketplace app. It was solid mahogany. You could tell just by looking at the rich wood grain that it was worth a small fortune. Yet, the original owner sold it to me for pennies. I had scored the deal of the century, and I spent days practically humming with joy. That was until I was scrolling through a local community forum and stumbled upon a highly discussed thread. “My six year old son was just diagnosed with a severe congenital illness. The doctors say there is no medical cure. Is there any alternative way to save him?” The comments were a sea of sympathy, offering prayers, diet changes, and specialist recommendations. It was a perfectly wholesome thread. Then my eyes caught the single comment the original poster had pinned and liked. “You just need to swap his fate with a child of the exact same age. Take the item your child has used the most, attach his full name and birthdate, and pass it on to another family’s child.” My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I was about to leave a scathing reply calling out the charlatan, but I noticed the desperate mother had already replied. “Master, my son’s absolute favorite place in the world is his little wooden crib. Would it work if I sold it to a stranger?” Attached to her reply was a picture of a solid mahogany crib. My blood ran cold. It was the exact same crib sitting in my living room. It even had the identical faint scratch on the left railing. There was just one tiny detail the seller had not accounted for. My precious baby is a golden retriever mix. 1 I stared at the pristine mahogany crib, running my fingers over the distinct scratch on the wood, and sank into deep thought. A few days ago, my rambunctious rescue dog, Buster, had completely shredded his plush dog bed. My immediate thought was that no matter how tight money got, my boy deserved the best. However, my overflowing maternal instincts hit a brick wall when I saw the outrageous prices for orthopedic pet beds online. Defeated, I turned to the local second hand app. After hours of relentless scrolling and haggling, my efforts paid off. I found the perfect, sturdy crib for an unbelievably low price. The seller had been overly accommodating. Seeing that I did not have a truck, she cheerfully offered to deliver it right to my doorstep. I had been so smug about my luck, bragging to my friends about my bargaining skills. They had warned me that deals that seemed too good to be true usually came with a catch. I had brushed them off. I never expected the catch to be a dark occult curse. But really, my child was a dog. A chaotic, hyperactive furball who had once chased three grown men and five neighborhood cats up a fence in a single afternoon. Buster was a menace, and keeping him fed and happy was already a badge of honor for me. Could a dark fate swapping ritual even cross species lines? I opened my phone and typed out an earnest reply to the delusional mother. “We live in a modern society. Who actually believes in this superstitious nonsense? Please do not get scammed by fake gurus!” “Your child’s health should be left to medical professionals. Early intervention is key.” “Besides, if you actually believe you are swapping fates, have you thought about the innocent child you are cursing?” It did not take long for my phone to ping with her response. “A parent’s love requires doing whatever it takes. While he is young, I have to cure him quickly so he does not grow up as an outcast.” “My Toby is destined to do great things. Whoever gets to swap fates with my precious boy should be counting their lucky stars. They should just accept the blessing and stop being ungrateful.” I typed out a furious retort, but a pop up informed me I had been blocked by the author. I scoffed. That was fine. If there was one thing a chronically online millennial had in abundance, it was burner accounts. 2 “Woof!” I looked down. Buster was awake. He sat at my feet, his big brown eyes staring up at me with such absolute devotion it made my heart melt into a puddle. Looking at that sweet face, I could almost forgive his daily acts of domestic terrorism. Buster was a street rescue. A few years ago, I had been laid off from a corporate job with zero severance. Frustrated and miserable, I had gone to a dive bar to drink my sorrows away. On my way home, I saw him in a dirty alleyway. He was fighting off three stray dogs twice his size over a miserable, dried up bone. The gash on his hind leg was so deep the bone practically gleamed under the streetlights, yet his tiny chest puffed out with the heart of a lion. He held his ground. He protected his prize. Something inside me broke. I thought he was the bravest thing I had ever seen. Fueled by liquid courage and ignoring the risk of rabies, I scooped him up and rushed him to the emergency vet. By the time the vet finished patching him up, I was stone cold sober. The itemized bill the receptionist handed me was longer than my final paycheck. I was silently cursing the extortionate medical system when I glanced down and saw Buster looking at me. His eyes were damp and trusting. I mentally slapped myself. How could I even hesitate over paper money when this little warrior had fought so hard just to live? I handed over my credit card without another word, completely missing the fact that the anesthesia had finally kicked in and he was snoring loudly. From that night on, Buster was officially mine. I spent the next two days monitoring the forum post. The mother finally posted an update. “The crib has been sold. What is the next step?” She attached a heavily censored screenshot of our transaction history. The comment section immediately erupted. “I would sooner believe I can shove my big toe into my ear than believe this guy can rewrite destiny.” “Is the original poster for real? People still fall for this?” “Honestly, I am morbidly curious now. Where is this Master? Tell us the next step!” “I don’t even know what to say. I understand a mother’s desperation, but how could you intentionally harm someone else’s baby?” The author was frantically deleting any comment that criticized her. She only left the ones begging the Master to reveal the next phase. I wanted to see what this charlatan would say next. Soon enough, a new comment was pinned to the top. “To successfully swap fates, both parties must exchange personal items. The target has your crib. Now, you must acquire items the target child uses daily. Attach your son’s name and birthdate to them, and keep them close for forty nine days. This completes the spiritual bridge. After that, the transfer will begin.” I could not help but roll my eyes. How could anyone be gullible enough to believe this garbage? I felt like an idiot for even keeping up with the drama. I locked my phone and grabbed Buster’s leash, ready for our evening walk. Just as my hand touched the doorknob, my phone buzzed. I pulled it out and stared at the screen in sheer disbelief. It was a direct message from the crib seller. 3 “Hey honey! Do you need any baby clothes? I bought so many brand new outfits, but my Toby is growing like a weed and cannot fit into them anymore. I would love to bring them over for you.” “Do not even worry about the cost. It would be a waste to just throw them out.” “Are you home right now? I can drop them off.” My brain was still processing the sheer audacity, but my fingers were already typing a polite rejection. “Oh, thank you so much for the offer, but please don’t trouble yourself! Our little one is quite particular and probably wouldn’t fit into them.” To my horror, she replied instantly. “Open up, honey. We are already at your door.” I wanted to pretend I wasn’t home, but the obnoxiously loud notification chime from my phone echoed straight through the thin apartment door. Trapped, I took a deep breath and turned the deadbolt. Standing in my hallway was Martha, the seller, and clinging to her hand was her son, Toby. He was a pale, chubby kid who immediately started peering past my legs into the apartment. I still felt a pang of pity for the boy. I figured I could sit the mother down, offer her a drink, and gently suggest she seek proper medical and psychological help instead of relying on internet warlocks. I plastered on a welcoming smile and stepped aside. “Come on in. Why don’t you and Toby take a seat on the couch? I will go cut up some fresh fruit.” I had just bought a fancy bottle of organic fruit juice that kids usually loved. I figured it would be a nice icebreaker. I stood in the kitchen, mentally rehearsing how to breach the topic of modern medicine. But when I walked back into the living room holding a tray of snacks, it was completely empty. A chilling rustling sound echoed from down the hall. I dropped the tray on the coffee table and marched toward my bedroom, pushing the door open in disbelief. In the span of five minutes, my sanctuary had been destroyed. A thick smear of crimson lipstick was dragged across my pristine white walls. My expensive silk bedsheets were stamped with tiny, foundation covered handprints. Even the brass handles of my nightstands were caked with sticky beige liquid. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. The blood rushed to my ears, leaving a high pitched ringing in its wake. “What are you doing?!” Hearing my raised voice, Martha jolted up from the edge of the bed. Acting as if she had just noticed the carnage, she grabbed Toby by the arm and gave him two incredibly gentle, theatrical pats on the back. She turned to me, squeezing out a painfully fake smile. “Oh, I am so sorry, honey! I took my eyes off him for one second. You know how boys are. He is just a child, you cannot possibly hold a grudge against a little kid.” I watched her perform in absolute silence. Slowly, I pulled out my phone and pulled up my digital receipts for the ruined cosmetics. When I held the screen up to her face, the fake smile instantly evaporated. The total was not small. “Listen to me, honey,” she said, her tone suddenly shifting from apologetic to patronizing. “You are a married woman and a mother now. You should not be wasting your money on useless vanity items.” She bent down, picked up a shattered bottle of luxury serum from the floor, and brazenly wiped the remaining drops of the expensive liquid onto her own face. She rubbed it into her cheeks with a satisfied sigh. “I am older and wiser than you. If you have this kind of money, you should be buying your husband nice suits or getting educational toys for your baby! A man is the pillar of the household. If you don’t spend money on him, what kind of wife are you? Besides, this expensive stuff feels exactly like the cheap dollar store cream anyway. It is so greasy!” I stared at her, watching her scrape every last drop of my ruined serum onto her skin, and let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Ah!” Before I could say another word, Toby noticed my dark expression. The little brat actually lunged forward, shoving me hard in the stomach, spitting out a string of foul curses that no six year old should even know. Martha did not correct him. In fact, a glint of twisted pride flashed in her eyes. Suddenly, the urge to explain that my “baby” was a dog vanished completely. If they wanted to play sick games, I could play too. 4 “It is quite alright,” I said, taking a deep breath and forcing the corners of my mouth up into a serene smile. Every penny they just cost me, I was going to bleed out of them tenfold. “If Toby likes playing with them, let him have fun. I am a mother too. I understand.” I watched Martha’s tense shoulders relax as she let go of Toby’s hand. I paused for a moment before speaking again, my voice dripping with manufactured innocence. “So, what brings you by today?” Martha slapped her forehead, putting on a spectacular show of realization. “Oh, right! I saw you bought the crib and figured your baby must still be quite young. I kept all of Toby’s baby clothes in pristine condition. I brought them over so you could save a little cash for your family!” I chuckled, my smile turning a fraction colder as I quickly cut her off. “Oh, we couldn’t possibly accept. You see, we only have the one precious baby, and we are incredibly particular. We only use custom fabrics and organic cotton. I am afraid we just couldn’t use second hand clothing. Besides, those outfits hold so many memories for you. You should keep them.” Martha’s smile froze. She scrambled for an angle. “Well, that is wonderful for your baby! Actually, to tell you the truth, my daughter is due to give birth very soon. If your baby has any high end clothes or toys they have outgrown, you could always pass them down to us.” The sound of an abacus clicking in her head was practically deafening. “You know how fast babies grow,” I sighed, adopting a look of profound regret. “The clothes cost a fortune, and they barely wear them before they are too small. I actually just bundled them all up and sold them to a luxury consignment shop online. I shipped the boxes out this morning.” I glanced up, catching the greed flashing in her eyes. “I had a few premium pieces left, but someone already claimed them. If I cancel the transaction now, the platform will hit me with a massive penalty fee for breaking the contract.” She took the bait immediately. “Oh, don’t worry about that! How much is the penalty fee? I will cover it.” The moment the words left her mouth, I unlocked my phone and pulled up a recent high end purchase receipt, carefully obscuring the date with my thumb. The four digit price tag was displayed in bold black text. “I gave the buyer a fifty percent discount, and they already transferred the funds. If I cancel, I have to refund them double as compensation.” “That… well… could you negotiate with them?” she stammered, her eyes darting nervously at the total. “Just give them their money back!” Did she really think she could scam me out of my things for free? Not a chance. She was not leaving this apartment until she paid for my ruined makeup. “Absolutely not. My husband and I have a reputation to maintain. We are not desperate for cash, and I refuse to get a negative review on my profile over something so trivial. You know how the internet is. One bad interaction and people try to ruin your life!” I casually brushed some invisible dog fur off my sleeve. “The courier just picked up the boxes. If you want the clothes, I need to intercept the package right now. My private housekeeper is arriving shortly to clean the bedrooms, so I won’t keep you any longer.” When people are caught off guard and pressed for time, they rarely stop to think logically. Within two minutes, I had a hefty sum transferred directly into my bank account. Now I actually had enough money to hire a professional cleaning service. Though, the cheap pacifiers and chew toys I had ordered online would not arrive for another two days. The second Martha and Toby walked out the door, I called my mom. I had texted her the moment Martha arrived, warning her to keep Buster out on his walk until I gave the all clear. Usually, Buster had boundless energy, but when my mom finally brought him in, he collapsed on the rug, panting heavily. Turns out, the local elementary school was on break, and Buster had spent two hours running drills with a pack of hyperactive children in the park. Bless the endless stamina of grade schoolers. Ever since I read that creepy forum post, I had forbidden Buster from sleeping in the mahogany crib. I had been genuinely paranoid that some weird fungal infection or mold in the wood might make him sick. But now? I had nothing to worry about. I pulled out a little step stool and placed it right next to the crib. Buster immediately climbed the steps, curled up on the soft mattress, and fell into a deep, snoring sleep. I opened the forum post again, a new question forming in my mind. Getting the clothes was one thing, but how was Martha planning to get my child’s name and exact astrological birthdate?

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“Ding. Target capture failed. Host will remain in this world until natural death.” Tristan pulled me close, face etched with sorrow. “Hazel, don’t let this destroy you. We can have another baby.” This was a fiction. Back in reality, my mother lay in a hospital bed, terminally ill, buried under crushing medical debt. Just as I lost hope, the System pulled me here. The deal was clear: win the heart of the tragic second lead, save him from the female lead’s torment, and keep him alive. Success meant a fortune and a ticket home—my mother could live. Failure meant being trapped here forever. This was my fourth attempt to save Tristan. Each of the three times before, he fell desperately in love with Valerie, the woman who tortured him and ruined his family. This time, fate repeated itself. He fell for her again. Rushing to her side, he left our child alone—and our son died. Hearing his empty comfort, I stared blankly at his chest. “There will never be another baby.” “Ding. Extreme emotional spike detected. Please—wait, stop! You’ve killed him three times already!” Before the mechanical voice finished, the hunting knife in my hand drove deep into his heart. If I could never go home, my mother would die. Then he would die too. 1 A few feet away stood the tiny hospital bed. Our beautiful boy lay there, eyes closed, looking as if he were simply taking a nap. I wanted to walk toward him, but my feet were nailed to the floor. It felt as though weights were shackled to my ankles. My face was drained of all color, my breath hitched in my throat, and my trembling hand reached out into the empty air. “Hazel, I am so sorry. Valerie twisted her ankle out of nowhere. She was crying, saying she needed to get to the ER right away. Finn was having so much fun in the sandbox. I had no choice. I thought it would be fine to just let him play for a few minutes.” “But… I don’t know how it happened. When I got back, the police were there. They said he chased a ball into the middle of the street and a car…” “He didn’t even make it to the hospital.” The words spilled from Tristan’s mouth. I opened my own, trying to scream, trying to wail, but the silence in my throat was absolute. “Finn… my little Finn…” I had been reborn four times. I did not love Tristan. In fact, the very sight of him made my stomach churn with hatred. But I was forced to play this twisted game of romance. Finn was a miracle we had through IVF. From the moment he took his first breath, I was his entire world. He was my only anchor, my sole emotional refuge in this bleak, artificial reality. And then, on a random Tuesday, Tristan said he wanted to take his son to the park for some bonding time. Now, my son was a corpse. I had foolishly believed a child could tether his wandering soul. What a naive, pathetic delusion. A million needles pierced my heart simultaneously, shredding the organ into bloody ribbons. This was my fourth attempt at saving Tristan, and the longest I had ever survived in a timeline. Yet, he still could not escape his pathetic obsession with the female lead. In my past lives, I had snatched him from the jaws of Valerie’s cruelty more times than I could count. When she and her goons cornered him to shatter his hands, I leaped out of the shadows and called the cops, preserving his future. When she pushed him onto the subway tracks, I tore my own muscles apart dragging him back onto the platform. When she orchestrated a hostile takeover that ruined his family and threw him behind bars, I worked myself to the bone, calling in every favor under the sun to get him out. But Tristan was a glutton for punishment. In every single lifetime, he crawled back to his abuser, kissing the hand that struck him, and discarding me like garbage in the process. Fortunately, whenever the System declared my mission a failure, I made sure to take Tristan down with me. If I couldn’t go back to my mother, he didn’t deserve to breathe. The haze in my eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, hardened resolve. I fixed my gaze on the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. I had already butchered him three times. A fourth wouldn’t hurt. 2 I trailed my fingers gently over his suit jacket, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath. Gripping his shoulder, I lowered my voice into a chilling whisper. “You left our baby alone on a park bench just because Valerie called.” A heavy sigh escaped his lips. “Hazel, you cannot blame Valerie for this. It was my decision to go to her. She is completely innocent in this tragedy. How was I supposed to know a toddler would run into traffic?” His tone was soft, but the underlying thread of impatience was unmistakable. “If anyone is to blame, it is you. You coddled him too much. You should have taught him not to run off.” Tears spilled over my lashes, hot and stinging. He was blaming me. He was blaming a two-year-old boy for acting like a toddler. I tilted my head up, my eyes glacial. “Excuse me?” He looked away, unable to meet my stare. “Look, I know what this is about. You are just paranoid that I am going to leave you for Valerie.” “Rest assured, Valerie and I are never going to happen. I only went to her because she was injured and needed help.” “If we were meant to be together, it would have happened years ago. Stop being so irrationally jealous. Let us just arrange the funeral for Finn, take some time to heal, and try for another baby. We just need to move on.” Move on. As if my son were a spilled cup of coffee. The truth was, I could not care less who he loved. In my eyes, he could love Valerie, he could love a lamppost, he could be madly in love with a stray dog for all I cared. All I ever wanted was to complete the damn mission, get my payout, and save my dying mother. Hearing his delusional rant, I let out a heavy breath. The words “Mission Failed” were currently flashing in neon red across my vision. I was so incredibly exhausted. I had to start the cycle all over again. “It is okay,” I murmured. “It will all be over soon. Just endure it for a second.” I spoke softly, just loud enough for the words to brush against his ear. “What?” he asked, confused. I did not bother explaining. In a fraction of a second, my hand slipped into my purse and withdrew the hunting knife. It was a blade I had purchased on the very first day of this fourth timeline. I always kept it close. The moment the System announced my failure was the moment Tristan met his maker. I refused to rot in this dimension until I was old and gray. My mother was waiting for me. If the mission was busted, then Tristan had to bleed so the clock could reset. “Ding! Host, please calm down! Your heart rate is off the charts. Stop! You have stabbed him three times already! Don’t do it! Please…” The System’s robotic pleas fell on deaf ears. I drove the steel blade straight through Tristan’s ribcage. A guttural shriek tore from his throat. Crimson blood erupted from the wound, a warm mist spraying across my cheeks and eyelashes. Tristan stared down in sheer disbelief at the handle protruding from his chest. He stumbled backward, his lips parting as dark blood bubbled up from his throat. “Hazel… you…” He tried to turn and run, but I stepped right into his shadow, refusing to let him escape. I grabbed the handle and twisted, shoving the blade deeper into his flesh. A twisted smile curled on my lips. “You pathetic excuse for a man. You deserve every ounce of this. I regret ever saving you. I should have let Valerie grind your bones to dust. Go to hell, Tristan. Your parents are waiting for you down there. I am sure they would love to ask their dear son why he fell in love with their murderer.” In this lifetime, Valerie had caused the horrific multi-car pileup that left Tristan’s parents dead. Yet, Tristan had marched into the police station, signed a forgiveness waiver, and pulled every string he had to keep her out of prison. Tristan’s eyes bulged with pure terror. “No… please… don’t kill me. I…” Before he could finish begging, I put all my body weight into the knife, burying it to the hilt. I ripped it out. I plunged it back in. The pristine hospital floor was transformed into a macabre painting of spilled wine. Finally, his knees buckled. He collapsed into the growing puddle of his own blood, his eyes wide open, staring blankly at the fluorescent lights. I dropped the knife, gasping for air, and slumped against the wall, utterly drained. “Why do you keep doing this?” the System sighed. “Killing him does not solve the mission. Now we have to trigger the reset.” I scoffed, wiping a smear of blood from my cheek. “If I don’t kill him, I am stuck living out the next sixty years in this hellhole without a dime to save my mom. I would rather watch him bleed.” 3 The air around me shimmered and twisted, accompanied by the System’s digitized sigh. Welcome to the fifth rebirth. Since Tristan was so thoroughly addicted to his own suffering, I decided I was done playing the savior. When I opened my eyes, the damp, familiar scent of mold hit me. I turned my head. At the mouth of a graffiti-covered alley, Valerie and a group of her grunge-clad sorority sisters were backing Tristan into a corner. Valerie had bombed her SATs and failed to get into a decent college. Tristan, on the other hand, had passed with flying colors and enrolled in an Ivy League university. Unable to stand his success, Valerie followed him to campus, bringing her reign of terror to his dorm steps. The spawn point for this rebirth was identical to the last timeline. With a blank expression, I watched Valerie kick Tristan in the stomach. He crumpled against the brick wall. She sneered, flicking her cigarette ash onto his designer shirt. “I told you, Tristan. You don’t get to walk away from me. You owe me your life.” “We grew up on the same street. Why did my family go bankrupt while the Blackwoods are still living in luxury? It makes me sick.” “My parents are gone. Our legacy is gone. I have nothing left. You owe me for the rest of your miserable existence.” They were childhood neighbors, growing up side by side. But after the Vanderbilt family lost their fortune, Valerie’s mind warped. She convinced herself that Tristan needed to suffer exactly as she had. Tristan remained silent, though he glared up at her with a look of stubborn defiance. I used to look at that rebellious glint in his eyes and think it was his bruised ego. Now, knowing what I know, I realized he was just sick in the head. He thrived on the humiliation. He enjoyed the pain she inflicted. The memory of the third timeline burned brightly in my mind. Tristan had insisted on driving Valerie to the airport during a storm. I was in the passenger seat when a truck T-boned us. I lay trapped in the crushed metal, my legs pinned, blood pouring into my eyes, screaming his name. He completely ignored me, frantically tearing at the backseat door to get to Valerie. His words still echoed in my nightmares. “Hazel, hold on! I have to get Valerie out first! She is bleeding, she might be in shock!” I had watched him carry her out of the wreckage to the safety of the sidewalk, leaving me behind as the engine sparked. Valerie stood there, watching the flames engulf my side of the car, a manic grin on her face. She mouthed the words, “Serves you right.” She hated me for constantly intervening. She wanted to break him, and I kept fixing him. My focus snapped back to the damp alleyway. Valerie gave a subtle nod to one of her lackeys, who promptly handed her a heavy aluminum baseball bat. Crack! Crack! Crack! The sickening sound of metal hitting bone echoed off the brick walls. Tristan was forced to his hands and knees, violently coughing up blood. He lifted his bruised face. “Are you done yet?” Valerie let out a cruel, melodic laugh. “Not even close. You walk around with too much swagger. I think it is time we took one of your arms out of commission.” “Everyone says my soul is crippled. Let us make your body match, shall we?” “Then we will truly be equals.” A flicker of genuine panic crossed Tristan’s eyes, but it vanished in a heartbeat. He truly did not believe she would go through with it. He refused to accept the depth of her malice. I had asked him once, in a past life, “Why do you still love her after she almost sent you to the morgue?” He had rolled his eyes, utterly annoyed. “You don’t understand our bond. Valerie would never actually cross the line. She would never kill me. Honestly, if you had not meddled, things would have worked themselves out.” “Stop acting like you are some holy savior. I never asked for your help. You forced your way into my business, so don’t expect me to bow down in gratitude.”

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Five years after I got out of prison, I saw him again. Nicholas Kim. His eyes fell on the empty leg of my trousers, and his voice trembled. “Ava… your… your leg…” He probably never imagined that the ballet champion who had once become an overnight sensation now needed a crutch just to walk. “If you were out, why didn’t you come find me? Do you have any idea how worried I was…?” His fiancée, my former best friend, nestled against his chest, her eyes red. “Ava, you were so thoughtless. Back then, to make it up to you, Nicholas arranged for all the city’s media to be there. He was going to propose to you in front of everyone, but you just vanished without a word, humiliating him completely.” “I only married him to protect what little dignity he had left…” Had to? I couldn’t help but let out a soft, humorless laugh. I glanced at her swollen belly. “So I suppose you had to let him knock you up, too?” “And I suppose you had to toy with Sebastian Kim’s affections back then?” “And you and Nicholas had to conspire to have my face altered and send me to that monster’s bed?!” 1 The autumn wind was cold, cutting straight through my thin, worn-out coat. Nicholas’s brow was furrowed, a storm of emotions in his eyes—frustration, surprise—but not a single flicker of guilt. When I was done, he let out a sigh, his tone dripping with condescension. “Alright, what’s past is past. Since you’re okay, just come home with me.” He gestured to the stretch limousine parked at the curb, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Get in the car.” I didn’t move. I just kept quietly wiping the grease from the diner tabletop. In the five years since my release, this was the only place that had been willing to take me in, to give me a job and a meal. But in Nicholas’s eyes, my silence was defiance. “Ava, how long are you going to keep this up?” He took two steps closer, towering over me. “Look at you, this pathetic state you’re in. How is this worthy of the name Mrs. Kim?” “Are you going to get in the car yourself, or do I have to have my bodyguards escort you?” Before I could answer, two men in black suits had their hands on my shoulders. I didn’t struggle. I simply gave the diner owner a deep bow, then turned and got into the car. The heat was blasting inside, the air thick with the scent of expensive cologne. “This is a supplementary card with no credit limit. The PIN is your birthday.” He tossed a black card onto the seat in front of me, as if tossing a coin to a beggar. “And I’ve arranged for an apartment for you downtown. It’s fully furnished, you can move in right away.” He expected me to be grateful. All I felt was disgust. I reached out with my trembling hand—a permanent tremor left after my bones were shattered in prison—picked up the card, snapped it in half right in front of him, and tossed the pieces out the window. Nicholas’s face froze, the cracks appearing in his mask of superiority. “I can’t accept these. I don’t want them.” The anticipation in his eyes instantly morphed into rage. “Ava, don’t be ungrateful!” “You were locked up for three years. You’re completely out of touch with the world. Who else would want you besides me?” The car drove through our old university campus. Chloe, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke up. “Ava, do you remember? Sophomore year, you said you wanted to have your own little light in this city someday.” “Now that Nicky has given you a whole apartment, what more could you possibly want?” Want? I stared out the window, my mind flashing back to a winter’s day in my second year of prison. In the communal showers, a group of inmates held my head under the icy water, my scalp screaming in pain as they yanked my hair. They forced me to watch the “wedding of the century” on a small, flickering television. Chloe, in a million-dollar gown, nestled in his arms. He looked down at her with a doting smile, telling the world she was the one true love of his life. And I was choking on dirty water, enduring the humiliation and torture. Because Sebastian Kim had paid off the guards to make sure I “shared in their joy” on their big day. The car stopped in front of a modern villa. Their love nest. Nicholas pulled me out of the car, gesturing towards the walk-in closet in the entryway, filled to the brim with couture. “These were all custom-made to your size. I had them ready for you before you were even released.” I stood at the doorway, refusing to go in. The house was filled with the overwhelming scent of gardenias, Chloe’s favorite. It was cloying, nauseating. “I’m leaving.” The moment I turned, he grabbed my wrist, his grip like steel. Nicholas suddenly lost control, his eyes red with fury. “Ava! I haven’t even held it against you for humiliating me by leaving like that! What more do you want?” “I’ve never bowed my head to anyone in my life! Do I have to get on my knees and beg for you to forgive me?” I looked at him, slowly prying his fingers from my wrist, and took a cold step back. “Stop acting, Nicholas.” “You only did all that because your company was about to go public. You wanted to create a ‘devoted husband’ persona for yourself.” “Don’t wrap your selfishness and calculation in a pretty bow and call it love.” “It’s disgusting.” Nicholas froze, his expression shifting from shock to pure rage. He pointed a trembling finger at me, his voice hoarse. “Get out! Ava, get the hell out!” “And when you’re starving on the streets, don’t you dare come crawling back to me like a dog!” I didn’t look back. I just walked into the darkness. Behind me, I heard the sound of a vase shattering, and his hysterical, furious roars. 2 That night, I was homeless. With only a few hundred dollars in my pocket, I found a seedy motel in a run-down part of the city. Fifty bucks a night. Lying on the yellowed sheets, I looked at my reflection in the cracked mirror—hollow cheeks, a face etched with a weariness far beyond my years. I was thirty, but I looked like an old woman. The former beauty of the university’s finance department, now just a crippled ex-con. I gave a bitter laugh and pulled the thin blanket over my head. The next morning, the diner owner called. “Ava, honey… you don’t need to come in tomorrow.” “Why?” I shot up in bed. The owner sighed. “Someone put the word out. As long as you’re working on this street, none of us will pass our next fire inspection.” “Don’t make this hard for me, kid. I’ve got a family to feed.” He hung up. I gripped the phone, my knuckles white. Nicholas. No one else had that kind of power, and no one else was that petty. I didn’t go begging to him. Instead, I spent the entire day at employment agencies and job fairs. The result was exactly what I expected. The moment they ran my ID, the friendly smiles would vanish. “Sorry, we don’t hire people with a criminal record.” “Kim Industries has made it very clear. Please don’t put us in a difficult position.” By sunset, I was sitting on a park bench, gnawing on the last half of a stale bread roll. A red Ferrari pulled up in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing Chloe’s face, hidden behind oversized sunglasses. She looked at me, a sarcastic smirk on her lips. “Hungry?” “Pride doesn’t fill your stomach, does it?” “Oh, Ava. Just be a good little dog for me, and I can make sure you get a meal. Otherwise…” I stared at her, my stomach twisting into a knot. Not from hunger. From rage. But I needed money. I needed to survive. “Fine.” Chloe smiled. “See? That wasn’t so hard. You were born to be on a leash.” She took me to a charity gala. No gown, no time to clean up. I stood among the city’s elite in my cheap, dusty coat, a ghost at the feast. Nicholas was there, laughing and talking with a group of investors. Chloe led me to stand behind them. “Well, well, if it isn’t the former finance department flower.” “I heard she took the fall for her ex-boyfriend and did three years?” “Still trailing after Mr. Kim, I see. Such a loyal pet.” The air was thick with whispers and mocking laughter. I looked at Nicholas. He knew the whole truth. I waited, hoping he would say something, anything, to stop them. He didn’t. He was too busy schmoozing with those investors over a multi-million dollar real estate deal. He just shot me a look, a silent command to endure it. One of the men, drunk, staggered over and wrapped an arm around my waist, his hand roaming freely. “Nicky, is this your new little bitch? She’s a bit old, but not bad to look at. Got a certain… flavor.” “How about you let me have a taste tonight? I’ll make it worth your while.” The whole room erupted in laughter. Nicholas took a sip of his wine, his voice casual. “If you like her, Mr. Zhang, you can have her kneel and lick your shoes.” Looking at the man who had once worshipped the ground I walked on, I felt nothing but a bone-deep chill. I turned, took the glass of red wine from Mr. Zhang’s hand, and smiled. “Mr. Zhang, is this wine any good?” He blinked, confused. “What?” SPLASH! A full glass of red wine drenched his greasy, leering face. The room fell silent. Mr. Zhang yelped, stumbling back and clutching his eyes. CRACK! A sharp, stinging slap landed on my cheek. Nicholas’s chest was heaving with fury. “Ava! Are you insane?!” “Do you have any idea how much that deal was worth?!” I tasted blood in my mouth. That slap shattered a decade of devotion, a final, brutal awakening. I wiped a smear of blood from the corner of my mouth and looked at the apoplectic Nicholas, my smile more painful than any tears. “Well, Mr. Kim. It’s a good thing that deal is dead.” 3 With that, I turned and walked away. A storm had broken out, the rain hammering down, each drop a tiny needle against my skin. The old injury in my leg flared up. It had been broken with a steel pipe in prison. Even with the amputation, the phantom pain lingered. On rainy days like this, it felt like a million ants gnawing at my bones. I dragged my broken body back to the motel and collapsed onto the bed, a high fever quickly taking hold. Curled up in the musty blankets, my consciousness fading, I thought I was going to die in this forgotten corner of the world. My phone rang. It was Nicholas. “Ava, stop playing dead.” His voice was a mixture of anxiety and impatience. “Get to the villa now. Chloe’s kitten, Snowball, is missing.” “You were always good at finding things. Get your ass over here and help her look for it!” My throat was raw from the fever, my voice a hoarse whisper. “I have a fever. I can’t move.” A cold laugh on the other end of the line. “A fever? Since when did you become so delicate?” “You used to run halfway across the city with a 104-degree fever just to bring me a late-night snack.” “And now you can’t even find a cat? Is it not enough money?” “You have thirty minutes. If you’re not here, I’ll have someone dig up your parents’ graves and scatter their ashes in the sewer!” He hung up. I clutched the hot phone, my eyes dry. He knew my weaknesses too well. I dragged myself out of bed, swallowed two fever reducers, and stumbled out into the torrential rain. By the time I reached the villa, I was soaked to the bone, my face as white as a sheet. Chloe stood in the living room, wrapped in a cashmere blanket. She looked at me with disgust. “What took you so long? What’s that smell? Stay away from me.” She pointed to the second-floor terrace. “The maids heard something on the roof. It’s too slippery for them to go up. You go check.” It was a sloped, glass-tiled roof, slick with rain. It was impossible to stand on. “My leg hurts. I can’t go up there.” Chloe sneered. “Ava, if my kitten gets sick from the rain, not even ten of your miserable lives would be enough to pay for it.” “Go.” I gritted my teeth and climbed the ladder. The terrace was empty. There was no cat. As I turned to go back, a glass tile under my foot came loose. I fell, hard, onto the concrete below. A rusty nail, sticking out of a wooden plank, pierced straight through the stump of my amputated leg. The sound brought them running. Nicholas and Chloe rushed up to the terrace and immediately spotted the Persian kitten cowering in a corner. “Snowball!” Chloe cried, scooping the cat into her arms. Nicholas beamed with relief. It was a long moment before they even noticed me, lying in a pool of my own blood. No panic. No concern. Only annoyance. “You can’t even do one simple thing right. Now you’ve made a mess of the terrace.” “What if you scared Chloe?” He waved a dismissive hand at the family doctor who had been summoned. “Just patch her up. As long as she doesn’t die here.” The searing pain brought a horrifying clarity. I looked at the man I had loved my entire youth, and the last flicker of light in my eyes died. I pushed the doctor away, propped myself up on my hands, and gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stand. Blood dripped from my trouser leg. I bent down and gripped the nail embedded in my flesh. Squelch! I pulled it out myself. Blood sprayed, splattering onto the hem of Chloe’s expensive white silk skirt. She shrieked, stumbling back, the kitten in her arms hissing in alarm. “This skirt was custom-made! Do you have any idea how much it costs to replace it?!” Nicholas’s face was cold. “Apologize!” My body was trembling with pain, but I started to laugh. I reached my blood-soaked hand into my pocket and pulled out a small jade pendant, its surface worn smooth with time. Ten years ago, he had climbed a sacred mountain on his knees, his skin raw and bleeding, to get this for me. A charm for my safety. He had promised me then that he would give me the world. Later, when he became a tycoon, he threw it in a storage unit. I was the one who found it, who cherished it all these years. It was a testament to my love, and to my foolishness. “You’re right, Chloe.” “I can’t afford your skirt. Just like I can’t afford to get back the ten years I wasted.” I held up the jade pendant and smashed it on the ground. Crack! The jade shattered into a dozen pieces. Nicholas stared, a flicker of genuine panic in his eyes for the first time. “What are you doing?” “That was our promise! How could you?!” “A promise?” I shook my head, my smile a tragic mask. “These ten years… just consider me a joke.” He dropped to his knees in the mud and rain, frantically trying to piece the fragments back together. But some things, once broken, can never be made whole again. I pointed to my bleeding leg, my voice unnervingly calm. “This leg… I lost it in prison. For you.” “From now on, we’re even.” With that, I turned away, not giving them another glance. I dragged my mangled, bleeding leg down the stairs, one step at a time. Behind me, Nicholas roared like a caged animal. “If you walk out that door today, don’t you ever come back!” “I’ll blacklist you from every industry in this city! You won’t even be able to beg for scraps!” “Come back! Get on your knees and apologize!” I didn’t turn back. I didn’t stop. The rain was still falling, but I no longer felt the cold. The moment I stepped out of the villa gates, I took a deep breath. This time, there was no lingering affection, only release. Goodbye, Nicholas. Goodbye forever.

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I was the real daughter of this family, and my life’s ambitions were simple: lie down, binge-watch shows, and order takeout. When my sister, the one they’d raised as their own, found out I was back, she was determined to prove her superiority. We each took over one of the family’s failing subsidiary companies at the same time. She publicly mocked me, “Some people are just born useless.” The words had barely left her mouth when a breaking news alert flashed across the TV. An old factory I owned, a forgotten piece of property, was being rezoned by the city as part of a core development project. The compulsory purchase payout: one billion dollars. 1. “Nora, just look at yourself!” My mother, Eleanor, pointed a trembling finger at my nose, her voice shaking with rage. “Can’t you learn a thing or two from Isabelle? Show some ambition!” “If you had half of Isabelle’s drive, do you think the Ashworths would need to be sucking up to the Lee family?” Standing beside her was my sister, Isabelle, the product of a lifetime of elite education. She was wearing a designer suit, her makeup flawless, radiating an aura of competence. A graduate of an Ivy League school and fluent in four languages, she was a goddess in everyone’s eyes. And then there was me, in a baggy T-shirt and shorts, about to order a bucket of spicy crawfish. My mother had dragged me out of bed for this business gala, all to pave the way for Isabelle’s networking. She stared at my T-shirt, her brow furrowed in disgust. “You’re going to wear that? You’ll be the laughingstock of the city! You’ll shame the Ashworth name!” Isabelle glided over at the perfect moment, her voice a soft, gentle murmur. In her hand, however, she held a gown she no longer wore. “Mother, don’t be angry. Nora, I’ve only worn this Dior once. You can wear it. Please, don’t embarrass the family.” Her tone was pure charity, as if she were donating to the poor. I couldn’t be bothered to respond, but my mother shoved me into a room and forced me into the ill-fitting dress anyway. At the gala, Isabelle was the center of attention, moving through the crowd with effortless grace. She could charm guests with fluent French and hold her own in conversations with business titans, a glass of champagne always perfectly poised in her hand. I, on the other hand, just wanted to find a dark corner and disappear. A greasy-looking man with a predatory smile drifted towards me, holding a drink. “You must be the other Miss Ashworth. I’ve heard so much about you. Care to join me for a drink?” I looked at him and asked, in all seriousness, “Does this drink come with a side of crawfish?” The entire room fell silent. The man’s face turned the color of raw liver. Isabelle elegantly swept in to “rescue” me, her words a masterclass in public humiliation disguised as an apology. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Davies. My sister doesn’t know any better. She grew up in the countryside, you see. She’s not used to… all this. Please, don’t hold it against her.” My father, Richard Ashworth’s, face was a thundercloud. He dragged me home, cleared his throat, and slammed two files onto the coffee table. “These are two of the group’s subsidiaries, both on the brink of bankruptcy. You’ll each take one. You have one month. Whoever can turn their company around will prove they are more qualified to…” He didn’t finish, but his meaning was crystal clear. His gaze softened as he looked at Isabelle, full of hope, then shifted to me, his voice turning to ice as he added, “I know what Isabelle is capable of. But you? What exactly do you bring to this family?” Isabelle picked up one of the files, a confident, predatory smile playing on her lips. “Father, Mother, don’t worry. I won’t let you down.” She shot me a triumphant, challenging look. I shrugged, picked up the other file without even bothering to read the company’s name, and stuffed it in my pocket. “Right. Got it.” My apathy drove them to the brink. “Nora! What is that attitude?” my mother shrieked. “Do you have any idea how much Isabelle has sacrificed for this family? She’s out there securing investments, chasing leads, working herself to the bone! And you? All you do is lie around and order takeout!” Her voice was shrill and grating. I was too tired to argue. I just turned and went back to my room. 2. The next day, I went to see my so-called company. It was a dilapidated office with a few scattered desks and a dozen employees who looked like they’d lost the will to live. The company had five hundred thousand dollars left in its accounts. I called in the accountant. “Divide this five hundred thousand among all the employees based on their years of service. Consider it a severance package and bonus.” The accountant stared at me, bewildered. “Ms. Ashworth, this is… this is all the liquid cash the company has left. If we pay this out, we’re officially bankrupt!” “Then let it go bankrupt,” I said, my tone final. That afternoon, the company was officially dissolved. I dusted off my hands and went home to continue my grand project of doing absolutely nothing. That evening, Isabelle returned, a storm of energy and ambition. Her heels clicked an aggressive rhythm against the hardwood floor. She kicked my door open and threw a financial report at my face. “Nora! You useless piece of trash! I closed a million-dollar deal today! And you? You dissolved the entire company! You are absolutely hopeless!” I slowly tore open a bag of potato chips. The crunch was satisfying. “Oh. Congrats.” “You—” She was so furious her chest heaved, the hand pointing at me trembling. “The Ashworth family has no room for a degenerate failure like you! Just you wait!” I watched her storm out, then popped another chip into my mouth. Why fight it? Lying down is so much more comfortable. The next morning, I was ripped from my sleep by a commotion. My mother, Eleanor, barged in, followed by a few of the house staff. “Throw all of this junk food out! And these sloppy clothes! Get rid of them!” I sat up, frowning. “Mom, what are you doing?” “What am I doing? I’m teaching you how to be a respectable human being!” She stood with her hands on her hips, her face a mask of disappointment. “Your sister was up until three in the morning working for this family, and you? You sleep in like a bum! Starting today, all your credit cards are cancelled. You’ll get a thousand dollars a month for living expenses. Let’s see how you manage to be a slob on that!” I watched in mild annoyance as the staff tossed my beloved snacks into trash bags. Arguing was exhausting, so I kept my mouth shut. Once they were done with their rampage, I slowly got up, got ready, and received a call from an unknown number. It was a former employee from yesterday, a man named Leo. “Ms. Ashworth, thank you! Thank you so much! My wife is sick and we desperately needed the money. What you gave us… you saved my family!” His voice was thick with tears, overflowing with gratitude. He said the former employees had pooled their money and wanted to treat me to dinner. I declined. I wasn’t looking for credit, and honestly, going out to eat sounded like a lot of work. But somehow, word of this got back to Isabelle. At dinner that night, she started in with her signature passive-aggression. “Well, well, if it isn’t our great philanthropist. I hear you used the company’s last dime to buy loyalty. You’re really something, Nora. You’d rather throw money at strangers than lift a finger to help your own family.” My father snorted. “You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. And now you’re trying to buy a reputation? If that half-million had gone to your sister, she could have turned it into a real project. In your hands, it just went down the drain.” I sipped my soup, saying nothing. My silence only egged Isabelle on. She pulled a cheap-looking cloth tote bag from her purse and tossed it in front of me. “I figured since your cards are cancelled, you probably can’t afford a new bag. I saw this at a street stall today and thought of you. Twenty bucks. You’re welcome.” The look in her eyes was one you’d give a beggar on the street. I looked at the tote bag. It had a Peppa Pig print on it. I found it strangely amusing. “Thanks, sis.” I took it without any fuss. It would be perfect for grocery shopping tomorrow. Her face turned pale with rage. She didn’t even finish her dinner before storming upstairs. My mother sighed, her heart aching for her precious daughter. “What a tragedy. Isabelle is such a wonderful girl, and she’s stuck with a sister like you.” I quietly finished my food. Funny how easily the word “sister” rolled off her tongue. They all seemed to forget that Isabelle and I shared no blood. 3. In the days that followed, Isabelle was a woman possessed. She left early, came home late, and was in a constant whirlwind of meetings and business dinners. Her company, I heard, was thriving, quickly securing second and third rounds of funding. As for me, I took my Peppa Pig tote bag to the farmer’s market every day. With my allowance slashed, I had learned the fine art of haggling with old folks over the price of potatoes. One day, while I was in a tense negotiation over a particularly fine-looking russet, a man in a sharp suit found me. It was Leo. He looked much better than the last time I’d seen him. With him was a middle-aged man. “Ms. Ashworth, let me introduce you. This is my cousin, Mr. Wallace. He’s in the construction materials business.” His cousin handed me a business card, his demeanor polite and respectful. “Ms. Ashworth, it’s an honor. Leo told me what you did. You’re a person of great integrity. I’m looking to expand my warehouse space, and I heard you happen to own an abandoned old factory. I was wondering if you might be interested in selling?” I blinked. An old factory? Then I remembered. It was a birthday gift from my grandfather when I turned eighteen. He’d held my hand and said, “Nora, you have a kind heart, not like the others. This piece of land will bring you good fortune one day.” But the place was out in the middle of nowhere. It had been deserted for years. I’d almost forgotten it existed. “That place… is it worth anything?” “Absolutely!” Mr. Wallace’s eyes lit up. “It may be remote, but the lot is huge, which is exactly what I need. I’m prepared to offer you three million dollars. What do you think?” Three million. To me, it was an astronomical sum. Leo was an honest man, and his cousin seemed trustworthy. I didn’t hesitate. On the day we signed the contract, I made sure to bring my Peppa Pig tote bag, which held my ID and birth certificate. The first thing I did after getting the money was go to the mall and buy a mountain of snacks. Then I took a cab home. When I walked into the living room with my arms full of bags, the three of them—my mother, father, and Isabelle—stared at me with suspicion. “Nora! Where did you get the money for all this?” my mother demanded. “Oh, I sold that old factory grandpa gave me,” I replied nonchalantly. “You sold it?” Isabelle shrieked. “You actually sold it? For how much?” “Three million.” “Three million?” Isabelle burst out laughing, as if it were the funniest joke she’d ever heard. “Nora, are you an idiot? That factory might be remote, but the land alone is worth at least five million! And you sold it for three? You are the definition of a squanderer!” She looked genuinely heartbroken, as if the factory had been hers. My father’s face was grim. “Reckless! Why didn’t you discuss a family matter with us first? Three million… you’ve been swindled!” I looked at their indignant faces and suddenly felt very tired of it all. “It’s sold. What’s the point of saying all this now?” I didn’t want to waste any more breath on them. I just took my snacks and headed upstairs. Behind me, I heard Isabelle’s cold, contemptuous laugh. “Useless is as useless does. You could hand her a winning lottery ticket and she’d probably use it as a napkin.” 4. A month later, it was time for the Ashworth family’s formal dinner. It was a family dinner in name, but in reality, it was a victory party for Isabelle. Her subsidiary, they said, had tripled its market value in a single month, becoming a small miracle in the industry. At the party, Isabelle wore a stunning red gown, her chin held high as she accepted fawning compliments from all our relatives. “Isabelle is just brilliant! A true Ashworth!” “Yes, not like some people who just take up space and throw away money.” All eyes darted subtly in my direction. I was in my usual uniform of a plain white T-shirt and jeans, sitting in a corner, completely engrossed in dismantling a king crab leg. It tasted good, if a little salty. Isabelle, holding a glass of champagne, glided over to me, looking down her nose. “Nora. I hear you’ve been living quite comfortably off the money from the factory sale.” I nodded. “It’s been great. I’ve achieved snack-sovereignty.” She let out a short, sharp laugh, just loud enough for the whole room to hear. “Some people are just born useless. You can give them a mountain of gold, and they’ll waste it all. You can give them an opportunity, and they’ll destroy it with their own hands.” She paused, the disdain in her eyes utterly undisguised. “A month ago, we were given the same starting line. I turned my company into a ten-million-dollar asset. You dismantled yours. And now, for a measly three million dollars, you’ve sold the most precious thing grandpa ever left you. Tell me, Nora, what is the point of you?” The room went silent. Everyone was watching me, waiting for the punchline of the joke that was my life. My mother’s face was a canvas of embarrassment and humiliation. She looked at me as if I were her mortal enemy. My father’s expression was just as dark. I slowly wiped my hands, looked up, and was about to say something. Just then, on the large screen in the center of the hall, the financial news program was interrupted by a breaking news bulletin. “We have an update on the city’s urban development strategy. The municipal government has officially decided to rezone the southern suburban district into a core development area for the construction of a new technology hub…” The newscaster’s voice was crisp and clear, echoing through the silent hall. On the screen, a massive zoning map appeared. A bright red circle was drawn emphatically in the center of the map. That spot… I narrowed my eyes. It looked familiar. The smirk hadn’t yet faded from Isabelle’s face. She followed my gaze and scoffed, “What are you looking at? You think a national project like this has anything to do with a failure like you?” The words had just left her mouth when the newscaster’s voice swelled with excitement. “According to our sources, the compensation standards for this rezoning will be the highest in the city’s history. Notably, the former Starlight Machinery plant, located at the very heart of the core zone, is projected to have a compulsory purchase payout of up to… one billion dollars!” Starlight Machinery. Wasn’t that the name of the factory I just sold? The entire banquet hall was plunged into a silence so deep it was deafening. Every single pair of eyes in the room snapped towards me. The smile on Isabelle’s face froze solid.

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Everyone knew I’d do anything for Alexander Pierce, the golden boy of Manhattan. I was his shadow, his doormat. So much so that while he was dropping a fortune on his personal secretary at a high-end auction, I was on my knees giving that same secretary a foot massage. Halfway through the massage, a line of glowing text suddenly materialized in my vision, like a comment on a live stream. [Here we go. It’s time for the heroine’s brother to need his medical bills paid. But she needs the secretary’s approval to get the money, and the secretary will refuse. The heroine will have to go sell drinks at a club to make cash!] [Just wait. When the male lead finds out, he’s going to call her a pathetic, gold-digging tramp again.] [Ugh, I know this is standard for a tragic novel, but the heroine’s life is just brutal. Later on, she even has to give the secretary one of her kidneys, her brother still dies, and the male lead gives her parents’ company to the secretary as a birthday gift.] My hands froze. So, I’m the tragic heroine in some twisted novel? I became your lapdog so you would save my family, and you turn around and annihilate them instead? To hell with this. I’m done. 1 Looking at Scarlett Monroe’s smug, entitled face as she luxuriated in my service, I could no longer suppress the rage simmering in my chest. I stood up, my voice cold. “The request I submitted for my brother’s medical expenses. Can you approve it now?” Scarlett’s brow furrowed in annoyance, her tone dripping with contempt. “What’s the rush? We’ll talk after the auction. Mr. Pierce said he’s buying me anything I want today.” She paused, a cruel smirk twisting her lips. “Besides, your brother is basically a vegetable. What’s the difference between that and being dead? Lying in a hospital bed is a waste of money and resources. Why are you in such a hurry to pay? A few more days won’t change anything.” “What did you say?” All the blood rushed to my head, a roaring sound filling my ears. CRACK! Before Scarlett could react, I swung my hand and delivered a sharp, ringing slap across her face. “Isabella… you dare hit me?” Scarlett stammered, clutching her cheek in disbelief. Just then, the door to the private lounge swung open and Alexander Pierce walked in. Scarlett immediately threw herself into his arms, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Alex! Isabella hit me for no reason! Look at my face, it’s already swelling up!” Alexander’s voice was ice. “Isabella. Who gave you the nerve to touch my people?” I rolled my eyes. “I asked your precious secretary to approve my brother’s medical fees. Not only did she deliberately stall, but she also wished him dead. Is there a problem with me hitting her for that?” Huddled in Alexander’s arms, Scarlett’s voice was fragile and innocent. “Mr. Pierce, her application form wasn’t filled out correctly. I just asked her to redo it, and she attacked me!” Alexander’s face darkened, his tone becoming a harsh command. “Isabella, Scarlett manages my finances. I told you all expenses have to be approved by her. You’re the one who didn’t follow procedure. Apologize to Scarlett. Now.” I straightened my spine. “I did nothing wrong. Why should I apologize?” [WHOA! The heroine is finally fighting back! She’s not taking it anymore!] [YES! It’s about time! Why should she have to endure this crap?] [Sigh, it’s no use. This is a tragic novel. As the heroine, if she resists now, she’ll just suffer more. The male lead will only hate her more.] I scoffed internally, a surge of defiance rushing through me. Bullshit. My fate is my own. This is my body, my life. Am I not allowed to make my own decisions? Tragic novel plot? Predestined misery? I refuse. I’ll rewrite my own damn story and make every single person who hurt my family pay. The moment that silent roar echoed in my mind, a crisp, mechanical sound chimed. [Ding! Congratulations, Host! Awakening successful!] [System Mission: Max out the target Alexander Pierce’s ‘Regret Value.’ Upon completion, the Host will gain absolute freedom and the reward of her brother, Liam, awakening!] Before I could even process the joy, my phone began to ring urgently. It was the hospital. A glint appeared in my eye. This was it. My chance. I immediately put the call on speaker. “Ms. Rossi, this is my final call to inform you that the deadline for your brother’s medical bill payment has passed. The hospital has been more than patient. As per our policy, we will be forced to cease all medication and disconnect all life-sustaining equipment. Please come to the hospital to collect your brother as soon as possible.” The color drained from Alexander’s face. And I, well, I had been waiting for this exact moment. “Doctor, please, I’m begging you, just a few more days…” Then, I closed my eyes and let my body go limp, collapsing to the floor. The second before I lost consciousness, the system’s voice chimed in my head: [Ding! Target’s Regret Value +10%! Current Value: 10%.] 2 Perfect. Step one, a success. I was held securely in someone’s arms. I could hear Alexander’s voice, sharp with an urgency and a thread of panic I’d never heard before. “Isabella! Isabella!” [WHOA?! What’s happening? The ice-cold male lead sounds like he’s about to cry!] [Wait, you guys! I think she faked it! I swear I saw the corner of her mouth twitch into a smile for a second!] [Damn! A strategic retreat? Beating the damsel in distress at her own game? She stole Scarlett’s signature move!] The comments in my mind exploded with shock and awe. Alexander quickly carried me out of there. Back at his penthouse, I waited a while before slowly fluttering my eyes open. The first thing I did was struggle to get out of bed, my voice a frantic, panicked mess. “My brother… I have to get to the hospital… I have to save Liam…” Alexander pressed me back down, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Don’t move. Just rest. I’ve already had someone pay all of his outstanding bills. Your brother will be fine.” Just then, Scarlett ran in, her eyes red and puffy. She dropped to her knees by the bed, apologizing profusely. “Ms. Rossi, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hold up your approval. I didn’t know today was the final deadline. I’m so, so sorry.” Alexander looked at the kneeling Scarlett, a flicker of pity in his eyes. “Get up, Scarlett. It’s not your fault.” Then he turned to me, his tone placating. “She didn’t do it on purpose. Your brother is fine now, so let’s just drop it.” I sneered internally but kept my face placid, nodding meekly. “I know. I don’t blame the secretary.” My compliance seemed to catch Alexander off guard. Then, his eyes fell on the dark bruises on my knees, a souvenir from the long hours I’d spent kneeling to massage Scarlett. [Ding! Target’s Regret Value +5%! Current Value: 15%.] A barely perceptible smile touched my lips. Over the next few days, I was more docile than ever before. Whatever Alexander asked, I did, without complaint or resistance. He showered me with expensive clothes, jewelry, and designer bags, and I accepted them all with a quiet grace, neither overly excited nor unimpressed. When he took me to social events, I was the perfect companion: poised, gentle, and never speaking out of turn. The desperate, fawning girl was gone, replaced by a woman with a calm and composed demeanor. The jealousy and hatred in Scarlett’s eyes became almost impossible for her to conceal. I watched her from the sidelines, knowing the time was almost right. The fish was about to take the bait. Sure enough, one evening, Scarlett approached me, her smile carefully manufactured. “Isabella, Mr. Pierce is at a bar downtown. He’s in a bad mood and has been drinking. He wants you to go pick him up.” I put on a look of flattered surprise and nodded eagerly. “Okay, I’ll go right away.” The bar was dimly lit and deafeningly loud, thick with the smell of smoke and stale liquor. I found the private room Scarlett had mentioned and pushed the door open. The moment I stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind me, the sound of a lock clicking into place echoing from the other side. [Oh no! She walked right into it! This is Scarlett’s trap!] [It’s over, Scarlett totally set her up to frame her!] [The male lead is on his way. When he sees her in a place like this, he’s going to assume she’s cheating or being promiscuous!] [Is this where the tragedy kicks in? She’s going to be wrongly accused again!] The comments in my head went into a frenzy of anxiety and worry. But I stood there, perfectly calm, even managing a cold smile. Scarlett thought she could frame me with a trick this pathetic? How naive. I calmly took out my phone and dialed a number I had saved long ago. I spoke a few quiet words, then hung up and waited. An hour later. BANG! The door was kicked open with brutal force. Alexander stormed in, his face a thundercloud. His eyes swept the room, and when he saw I was alone, a flicker of relief crossed his face. But when he noticed I was clearly tipsy, his expression hardened again. He strode over, scooped me into his arms, and carried me out, unceremoniously dumping me in the back of his car. Before I could react, he leaned over me, one hand closing around my throat. The pressure wasn’t enough to choke, but the threat was unmistakable. “Isabella, are you that pathetic? So desperate for money, so starved for attention? Isn’t latching onto me enough for you? You have to come to a place like this and whore yourself out? You disgust me!” From the passenger seat, a triumphant smile flashed across Scarlett’s face before she quickly replaced it with a look of guilt and remorse. “Alex, please don’t be angry. It’s all my fault. Isabella begged me, she said she just wanted a night out with friends, and I felt bad for her, so I said yes.” “I had no idea she would come to a place like this… It’s my fault. I should have kept a better eye on her.” Trying to pin the blame on me? Nice try, Scarlett. But this time, you seriously miscalculated. 3 I pulled a gold-leafed business card from my pocket and held it up to Alexander, my voice choked with sobs. “I’m sorry, Alex, I was wrong. I wasn’t… I wasn’t doing anything bad…” “I know you’ve been stressed about finding a celebrity spokesperson for the company’s new product line. You wanted that big star, but his team is impossible to get a meeting with.” “I heard his agent was here tonight, so I came to buy him a drink, to try and talk to him about a partnership.” “This is his card. He said he’s willing to learn more about our products.” “I messed up. I shouldn’t have hidden it from you, I shouldn’t have come here. I’m so sorry, please don’t be angry…” Alexander froze. The hand on my neck slowly loosened. The rage on his face hardened, cracking into an expression of utter disbelief. He looked down at the business card in my hand. Embossed on it was the name of the top agent in the country, the very man he had been trying and failing to get in touch with for weeks. He was stunned, his eyes a complex mix of emotions as he stared at me. His voice, when he finally spoke, was soft with disbelief. “You came here… to help me with a business deal?” I nodded furiously, tears finally spilling over and splashing onto the back of his hand, warm and full of unspoken pain. “Yes… I know I’m not smart, I can’t help you with big things, but I just wanted to do something, anything, to share your burden.” “I told Scarlett I was meeting friends because I was afraid I’d fail and disappoint you. That’s why I didn’t tell you beforehand. I’m sorry, it’s all my fault.” [Ding! Target’s Regret Value +25%! Current Value: 40%.] In the front seat, the color drained from Scarlett’s face. She was trembling with fury but couldn’t utter a single word in her defense. Her carefully laid trap had not only failed to ensnare me, but it had also backfired spectacularly, making Alexander feel even more guilty and protective of me. [HOLY! What a plot twist! That was absolutely masterful!] [The damsel-in-distress heroine just evolved into a black-hearted mastermind! She’s a hundred levels above Scarlett!] [LMAO! Scarlett’s face is literally green! She tried to set a trap and ended up helping her enemy!] [This heroine is a genius! Her brain, her strategy… who could possibly outplay her?] The comments were a chorus of cheers. I hid a cold smirk, my face still a mask of fragile vulnerability. Alexander looked at my tear-reddened eyes, his heart clenching with regret. His voice softened, his attempt at comfort clumsy. “I misunderstood you. I’m sorry.” In the following weeks, Alexander treated me better than ever before. Perhaps it was guilt, or perhaps it was because I had actually managed to secure the celebrity endorsement, solving a massive problem for his company. He showered me with gifts—jewelry, luxury cars, limited-edition handbags. If I so much as glanced at something, it would be delivered to me within the hour. I accepted everything without protest and without fawning over him. I maintained a careful distance—gentle, understanding, and never demanding—which only made him more captivated. Meanwhile, Scarlett watched his growing affection for me, her jealousy festering into a madness that deepened the scheming in her eyes. She couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t accept that the prize she had held so securely in her grasp was being stolen away by his former doormat. A few days later, Alexander had to fly out of state for an urgent business matter. The moment he was gone, Scarlett showed up at the villa where I was staying. She cornered me at the top of the grand staircase. There were no servants around. Just the two of us. I saw the malice in her eyes and knew what was coming. Sure enough, the next second, Scarlett lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. Then, she threw herself backward, tumbling dramatically down the entire flight of stairs. “AHHH!”

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1-9

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1 A stranger started appearing in my social media logs, the account where I posted about my marriage. For a month, she kept visiting. Finally, I messaged her: [Who are you?] After a long silence, she posted three updates. The first text read: [First saw you a month ago. You were buying irises for your wife after work, saying they were her favorite. Mine too.] My husband had been bringing me irises daily for a month, claiming he bought them near his office. The second post showed two hands holding each other. The man’s hand had a hexagram tattoo—identical to the one on my husband’s hand. The caption: [Our first time holding hands.] My hands shook as I opened the third post. It was an ultrasound report with the message: [I’m pregnant. So, are you going to divorce your wife?] … I stared, frozen, at the glaring image of the ultrasound report on my phone screen. I recognized every word, every medical term. But now, they swam before my eyes, blurring into an incomprehensible mess. I blinked hard, again and again, until the woman’s name finally swam into focus: Serena. A name I didn’t know, a name I had never once heard James mention. I kept telling myself it had to be a coincidence. It had to be. Any man in the world could cheat, but not James. Never James. His entire paycheck went into our joint account. He was home on time from the gym. When he was home, he took on the lion’s share of the housework without a word of complaint. He had no bad habits to speak of, save for the occasional weekend workout or badminton game. I had free rein to look at his phone, to check his bank statements whenever I wanted. He was, in the words of all my friends, the flawless, ideal husband. Even my parents, who hadn’t been his biggest fans initially, now sang his praises. Him, cheating? It was impossible. But once a seed of doubt is planted, it grows with monstrous speed. The conflicting thoughts ricocheting around my head all day nearly drove me mad. So, when it was time for James to get off work, I left the house. I found a spot inside a convenience store across from his office building and waited, hidden from view. At 6:05 PM, right on schedule, James walked out of his building and headed straight for the flower shop next door. My breath caught in my throat, my nails digging unconsciously into my palms. But the moment I saw the shop owner, a wave of relief washed over me. The woman was… plain. Unremarkable. She looked a couple of years older than James, and more importantly, there was a little boy of about seven or eight at her side. Clearly a mother. James walked in and expertly picked out a bouquet of irises, handing them to the woman to be wrapped. He even chose my favorite shade of wrapping paper, a pale, soft blue. A small smile touched my lips. The anxiety that had been twisting my gut all day finally unknotted. I even felt a pang of guilt, chiding myself for being so paranoid and sensitive ever since the miscarriage. No wonder James, when pushed to his limit, had told me he felt like he was suffocating sometimes. After our biggest fight ever last month, I had actually started to reflect on my behavior. James’s face, etched with exhaustion, was seared into my memory. “I’m already exhausted from working all day to support us,” he’d said. “I don’t want to come home and be interrogated like a criminal.” He was right. I had been pushing him too hard. But just as I was about to step out and surprise him, my eyes widened in disbelief. The florist didn’t take the flowers right away. Instead, she stood on her toes and planted a quick, butterfly-light kiss on his cheek. James didn’t push her away. He simply rested his hand on the small of her back, a gesture of casual intimacy. My hand, resting on the door handle, began to shake. The scene unfolding before me was so absurd, it burned. It merged with another memory, a scene from six months ago, right after I found out I was pregnant. That night, James hadn’t pushed away the girl a client had shoved into his lap. I’d gone to find him, worried he was too drunk, and I saw it all through the small glass window of the private room door. I watched him drink the liquor she fed to him with her own hands. The emotional shock of it all sent me into premature labor. I lost our first child that day. Later, James knelt by my hospital bed, his eyes red-rimmed, explaining that it was just business, just an act. He couldn’t risk offending the client by rejecting the girl so bluntly. He swore he had no feelings for her whatsoever. What were his exact words back then? He’d said, “Those women have nothing on you. They can’t compare to your looks, your education, your background, the way you carry yourself.” “Olivia,” he’d sworn, “I’m not stupid enough to cheat with someone who’s a downgrade.” I don’t remember how I got home. It was the sound of the front door opening that pulled me from the suffocating fog. James stood there, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bag of fresh groceries in the other. He sounded cheerful. “How about beef and asparagus for dinner?” His tone was so light, so normal. But to me, it felt like a boulder crashing down, shattering what was left of my heart. I finally looked up at him, my voice trembling. “James, have you done anything to betray me?” 2 James froze, his expression stiffening. A second later, he forced an unnatural smile. “Liv, what’s with you? Getting suspicious again?” “You keep such a tight leash on me,” he continued, his voice growing steadier, more confident. “You really have nothing to worry about.” He sounded so sure of himself, his tone even bordering on impatient by the end. He looked like a man with a perfectly clear conscience. Seven years together, five of them married. I knew him too well. James was a man driven by pride and ambition. That’s why he’d worked himself to the bone, clawing his way up the corporate ladder in just a few years—all because he couldn’t stand the thought of people saying he’d married up by being with me. But that same pride made him incredibly stubborn. He would never, ever admit to anything unless he was caught red-handed. I managed a weak smile, my eyes drifting to his phone, which he’d casually dropped on the entryway table. He had a routine. The first thing he always did after coming home was take a shower. Sure enough, seeing that I wasn’t pushing the issue, he seemed to think I was just bluffing. He let out a barely audible sigh of relief. “Whatever. I’m used to you accusing me of things anyway.” “I’m going to go shower,” he said. “I’ll make you something delicious when I’m out.” Just like always, he left his phone behind, probably not wanting to make me more suspicious by taking it into the bathroom. Or maybe he just knew that I’d always been the trusting type, that I’d never stooped to secretly checking his phone. But this time was different. I’d already called my best friend earlier today, the one who specializes in divorce law. She told me that with what I had, proving infidelity in court would be difficult. That’s why I hadn’t confronted him with everything just yet. I had pulled strings for him, using my father’s connections to discreetly pave his way, all to protect his fragile ego. He had indeed soared, but if he was the one who had wronged me, then he deserved to be the one to crash and burn. James was cautious; I’ll give him that. A quick scan of his phone revealed no obvious clues. His chat logs were filled with colleagues and business partners, all labeled with their company and title. Until I opened the chat with his “Badminton Coach.” [Mr. Knight, I’ve sent over the photos from last week’s session. Please check them.] [You and your wife make a great pair. You’re both very talented.] I had never played badminton with him in my life. So of course, the woman in the picture wasn’t me. It was her. The woman from the flower shop. The shutter had clicked at the exact moment their eyes met, their gazes overflowing with a love that was supposed to be mine. A tear fell, then another, splashing onto the cold glass of the screen. The sound of the shower, muffled by the door, was the only thing that drowned out my choked sobs. And then, I found more. In a chat log with a contact saved as “S. Reid,” I found a running commentary of his entire life. What he had for lunch, a great song he’d heard, whether he was stuck in traffic on his way to or from work. James shared every mundane detail of his day with her. I realized with a jolt that because I’d been so distracted all day, I hadn’t messaged him once. And he hadn’t sent me a single word. Like a thief, I scrolled through their private world, my fingers moving on their own, peeking at a happiness that wasn’t mine to see. I was so engrossed that I didn’t even hear the water shut off. The sound of the bathroom door opening startled me back to reality. I instinctively exited the app and locked the screen. He emerged from the bathroom just in time to see me setting the phone down. Panic flashed across his face. “Were you checking my phone?” “If you haven’t done anything wrong, what are you so afraid of?” I shot back, a sarcastic smile playing on my lips. But before I could say another word, he strode towards me and snatched the phone from my hands. The sharp edge of the phone case scraped across my palm, hard. A line of red beaded up instantly. But James didn’t even notice. He was already launching into a tirade. “Olivia, do you have any idea how you’re driving me crazy?!” “I know you’re from a wealthy family, that you were marrying down when you chose me, but haven’t I been good enough to you?!” “Do you know what I feel like?” he spat, his voice raw with wounded pride. “A dog on a leash, and you’re holding the other end!” His ego, finally unleashed, consumed him. He threw on his clothes and stormed out of the apartment. The heavy slam of the door echoed in the now-empty room, leaving me alone with the sound of my own weeping, which I could no longer hold back. I don’t know how long I cried. Eventually, exhausted, I just lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling. That’s when my phone lit up. That same account had a new post. [He knows I’m pregnant. He was so happy.] [He told me to keep the baby.] The phone slipped from my grasp, clattering to the floor. It landed face up, the screen glowing. And just as I looked, a new notification appeared. It was a direct message from her. [I know you’ve found out. Let’s meet.] 3 I never thought it was possible. I never imagined someone could be a homewrecker and be so brazenly proud of it. Serena sat down across from me, her eyes scanning me up and down, making no effort to hide her appraisal. “You’re not as beautiful as I imagined,” she said with a smirk. “But I guess looks don’t matter in the end. He’s mine now, isn’t he?” I squeezed my spoon, stirring my latte so hard the foam art dissolved, fighting the primal urge to throw the scalding coffee in her face. I took a deep breath. “You’re a woman. A mother, even,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Aren’t you afraid that one day, people will point fingers at your son because of what you’ve done?” She burst out laughing, as if I’d just told the world’s funniest joke. “Let me be honest with you,” she said, leaning forward. “My ex-husband left me for someone else, too. I was just like you back then—confused, devastated, I made a huge scene. But then I met James. And I finally understood. When love hits you, you just… you don’t care about anything else.” Her shamelessness was so profound it was almost comical. I nearly laughed myself. After a moment, I stared directly into her eyes. “He hasn’t actually agreed to divorce me, has he?” The smug satisfaction on Serena’s face instantly froze. I knew I was right. “James isn’t an idiot,” I said, letting out a dismissive scoff. “You really think he’d leave a wife like me… for you?” “Do you have any idea what kind of people he works with, the circles he moves in? If he actually divorced me and married you, what could you possibly bring him besides utter embarrassment?” My words hit their mark. Serena shot to her feet, her expression twisting into a mask of fury. “What are you so proud of? So what if you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth? You still couldn’t even keep your own man!” she shrieked. “I bet if we both messaged him right now, he would choose me without a second thought!” I raised an eyebrow, took out my phone right in front of her, and sent James a text. [Honey, my stomach hurts really bad. Can you take me to the hospital?] Serena, desperate to prove her point, did the same, her voice in the audio message dripping with a sickening sweetness that made my stomach turn. “James, honey, I’m not feeling so well. Do you think you were a little too rough last night? I’m worried about the baby.” Five minutes later, both our phones buzzed. James had replied. His text to me read: [I’m in a meeting. Go to the hospital yourself.] His reply to her was a voice message. His tone was laced with pure panic. “Where are you? I’m on my way. Don’t move.” As the message finished playing, a triumphant grin spread across Serena’s face. “You lose. Now get out.” “So what? As long as he doesn’t divorce me, you’ll always be the dirty little secret, the other woman who can never be seen in the light of day!” I snatched my purse, my whole body radiating a fury that looked completely genuine, as if I had been pushed past my breaking point. I stormed out of the café under her gloating gaze. James arrived faster than I expected. The second he saw Serena, he rushed to her, grabbing her hand, ready to whisk her away. She whispered something in his ear. I saw the tension visibly drain from his body. He smiled, then reached out and gave her nose an affectionate tap. Hiding just outside the café, I bit the inside of my cheek, hard, fighting back a wave of nausea. My hand, holding my phone up to record, was steadier than I could have ever imagined. That night, James came home as usual. He saw me sitting on the sofa, watching TV, and paused for a moment. Then, he came over and sat beside me. His voice was casual, but I could hear the subtle note of probing beneath it. “Honey, I’m sorry. I was just so stressed from work yesterday, I said some things I didn’t mean.” “Are you okay? Did you end up going to the hospital?” A faint, cloying scent of perfume clung to him. The same one Serena had been wearing. It was suffocating. I feigned indifference, pushing him away slightly. “Move. You’re blocking the TV.” He visibly relaxed. He murmured an obedient “okay” and disappeared into the bathroom. The moment the door clicked shut, I turned my gaze away from the screen. A second later, I was hunched over the trash can, vomiting my guts out. Later that night, in bed, James slid closer, his hand creeping onto my waist. “It’s been a while…” “It’s late. I’m tired. Let’s just sleep.” I shifted away, putting a deliberate distance between us. I felt his body go rigid. “My mom wants me to come over for dinner tomorrow,” I added. “So I won’t be home.” Tomorrow was Saturday, James’s day off. His routine was to go to the badminton club first thing in the morning. I used to think it was a sign of his self-discipline. Now I knew it was just an excuse to rush off to a date with his mistress. James didn’t question it. He just told me he understood and then, with nauseating hypocrisy, asked me to come home early because he would miss me. Soon, his breathing evened out into a steady rhythm. I picked up my phone and opened my chat with Serena. [Seems like you can’t satisfy him either. He was all over me just now, like a hungry wolf.] [I heard women get loose after having a baby. Is that true for you?] Then, I muted her notifications and put my phone away. The next morning, I made a show of leaving in front of James, even reminding him to pick me up from my parents’ place that evening. He agreed readily, even walking me to the door. Not twenty minutes after I left, I saw James’s car pull out of our apartment complex. Just as I’d predicted. He was going to meet Serena. Even from a distance, I could see their two bodies tangled together in the front seat. They were kissing in the car, right out in the open, for a good ten minutes. This time they didn’t go to the badminton club. They drove straight to the nearest hotel. I don’t know what Serena did, but James was practically sprinting out of the car, his every step screaming impatience. I forced myself to breathe, to quell the frantic pounding of my heart, and kept the camera rolling. I watched until they disappeared through the hotel’s revolving doors. Then, I made three phone calls. The first was to James’s parents, who cared about their reputation more than anything in the world. The second was to his direct supervisor, the man in charge of his next promotion. For the third, I took a deep, steadying breath and dialed the three numbers. “Hello, 911?” “I’d like to report solicitation at the Haven Hotel. The man’s name is…” “James. Knight.”

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1 During my prenatal check-up, Justin received a call, and his face instantly changed. He looked at me, full of internal struggle and pain. “Carrie, Maya’s flight is today. She’s never coming back to the States.” “One last time, I have to see her off.” I gently stroked my belly, watching him silently. “Do you have to go?” Justin’s voice trembled; he dared not look at me. “Carrie, I will live a good life with you from now on. The three of us, as a family, will be good.” With that, he left without looking back. He didn’t see me collapse to the ground behind him. In the operating room, the doctor confirmed again. “This baby, we can still save it. Are you sure you don’t want it?” I closed my eyes and nodded. No, I don’t want it. And I don’t want Justin either. The name Maya was a taboo between Justin and me. No one had mentioned it for a long time. Hearing it again today, it felt strangely surreal. Justin’s expression was torn and pained, just like when he knelt before me, begging for my forgiveness. He swore to the heavens, promising me he would completely cut ties with Maya. “Do you have to go?” My voice sounded strangely calm, as if it wasn’t my own. But Justin had already left without looking back. His retreating figure was resolute and final. I, however, smiled. A sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen, and blood stained the floor. This child, after all, couldn’t be kept. … After the surgery, I returned home, my face ashen. The room was pitch black; Justin hadn’t come back. No calls, no messages. I pulled at the corner of my mouth, a mocking smirk. Where Justin was, was self-evident. Just as I was about to go to the bedroom, the front door suddenly opened. Justin was back. He looked at me, a little surprised, his eyes flickering. “Carrie, why are you in the living room? Why haven’t you rested yet?” He stepped forward, trying to put his arm around me. But I smelled a perfume that didn’t belong to me or him. As my gaze swept over his neck, I also saw a red mark. I should have been furious, but at that moment, I felt a sense of finality and relief. No questioning, no hysterics. I pulled back a step in disgust. “Justin, let’s get a divorce.” Justin froze, then his tone grew irritable. “Carrie! What do you want? I already told you, this was the last goodbye! Why can’t you be understanding?” I looked at the agitated Justin before me, my eyes somewhat unfocused. He rarely lost his temper with me. In everyone’s eyes, Justin adored me. I believed it too. He would spend a fortune to buy me exquisite jewelry. He would even set off fireworks that lit up the entire city on my birthday, just to please me. … These things were countless. Until the appearance of one person: his new assistant, Maya. Only because I asked Maya to get out of Justin’s passenger seat, Maya’s eyes turned red with grievance. Justin then lost his temper with me. At that moment, I knew Justin had crossed a line with Maya. I cried, I made a scene, even threatened to expose Maya and make it impossible for her to stay in the city. Justin, a man of such pride, knelt before me. He said he would end it completely. He said he was just momentarily lost. He said he would fire Maya and never see her again. At that time, touching the child in my belly, I decided to give Justin another chance. But now, I knew, I didn’t want this man anymore. Justin was still making excuses. “Carrie, I told you, this was the last time. She’s already gone, can you please stop this? Didn’t we say we wouldn’t bring up divorce anymore?” I looked at Justin, and the man before me seemed unrecognizable, having become a liar whose mouth was only filled with falsehoods. My lower abdomen started hurting again. I was too tired to argue with Justin anymore and turned to go back to the bedroom. A deafening door slam echoed from the hallway. 2 That night, I slept restlessly, my dreams filled with fragments of the past. Justin and I were in an arranged marriage. Yet, we were surprisingly compatible. I had hesitated about this relationship at the time. This circle always had its fair share of affairs. My parents respected my opinion greatly, and they also advised me to think carefully. It was Justin. He knelt before me, swearing to the heavens. “Carrie, I will never betray you in this life!” “I’m not like them! I will treat you well!” “There will only be you by my side!” … The vows in my ears felt like they were from yesterday, yet they had long turned into a joke. When Maya’s eyes were red and she looked timid, I saw the heartache in Justin’s eyes. That favoritism, once exclusively mine, he had given to another woman. I tearfully confronted Justin, even slapping him several times. But I only got his reply. “Carrie, this is how it is in this circle! Besides, I haven’t even cheated!” I broke down. I stopped eating and drinking, even having suicidal tendencies. That night, when Justin woke up with a start, he saw me standing by the window, one foot about to step out. Justin cried then, holding me tightly, dragging me to the sofa, then kneeling on the ground, slapping himself repeatedly. “Carrie, I’ll never say such foolish things again.” “I’ll make Maya leave. She’ll never appear before you in this lifetime.” I looked at Justin, and my heart softened. Later, things between us seemed to return to how they were before. But my heart, I don’t know why, became increasingly numb, colder and colder, until it was utterly desolate. Perhaps, I should have divorced then, but I had a child. That child, whom Justin and I had yearned for for three years. … When I woke up, it was already bright daylight. I went to the living room, only to see the table laden with my favorite dim sum. Justin was looking at me eagerly. “Carrie, you must be starving, right?” “This is from your favorite bakery, Sterling’s Finest.” “Hurry, eat something.” Justin’s expression was natural, as if yesterday’s events had never happened. He even pulled out a chair for me and set out chopsticks. I silently sat down and ate. My body urgently needed nourishment, and I was too tired to argue anymore. Seeing me finish my meal, Justin also relaxed. He thought yesterday’s events were over. “Carrie, I’ll be on a business trip for a while. Take good care of yourself at home.” I calmly nodded. “When you get back, we’ll go file for divorce.” Justin’s face instantly changed. The cup beside him was slammed hard onto the floor. His tone was clearly filled with exasperation and anger. “Carrie, what do you want? I’ve already humbled myself, what else are you dissatisfied with? Why have you become so aggressive now? Carrie, I’m telling you, I’m not getting a divorce!” I looked at Justin’s distorted face before me, my heart surprisingly calm. The old Carrie would have probably cried from being wronged. Back then, she loved Justin. She couldn’t bear to let him go, even if he was emotionally lost. She would rather torment herself to death, just to give him another chance. But now, I didn’t want him. “Justin, I’m leaving. It’ll make space for your Maya. Why are you angry? I’m completing your happiness.” Justin grew even more furious. “Carrie! Don’t be so unreasonable! Yesterday, I told you it was the last time. I’ve already fired her as you requested, and we won’t see each other again. What else do you want me to do? Besides, I never even cheated in the first place! What do you want? I love you, only you, just you!” I laughed. I laughed at Justin’s shamelessness. “Justin.” “Do you really think I’m a fool?” “You came back so late yesterday. The red mark on your neck, the perfume on your clothes. This sudden business trip today.” “Justin, honestly, you’re quite shameless.” The room instantly fell silent. Justin’s chest heaved, his face alternating between green and pale. I ignored him and walked straight out the door. Justin probably forgot. When he knelt down and repeatedly promised to marry me, he had signed a divorce agreement. If he betrayed me, I could leave him anytime. Now, that divorce agreement was his comeuppance! 3 Leaving the house Justin and I shared, I returned to my parents’ home. My parents looked delighted to see me back. “Carrie, why did you come over today?” They came to greet me, their faces full of concern. “Didn’t you have a prenatal check-up yesterday? How’s the baby?” I couldn’t hold back anymore, and tears immediately streamed down my face. “Mom, Dad, the baby’s gone. I want a divorce.” My parents didn’t know about Justin and Maya’s affair. At that time, I was filled with resentment, pain, and indecision. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to be ruthless. I suffered and struggled alone, not telling my parents. My parents instantly fell silent after hearing my words. My mom’s eyes were red, and she hugged me tightly. “What happened? Are you hurt?” I cried even harder. I told my parents everything about Justin and Maya. Our family company still had a partnership with Justin’s family company. If we divorced, we would definitely have to sever ties. My dad slammed his fist on the table. “Divorce!” “Carrie, your mom and I are getting old; we don’t have much ambition left. No partnership, no partnership! We have enough money to support the three of us. No need to compromise!” Hearing my father’s words, I cried even more fiercely. I stayed at home like this. Justin’s calls were incessant, but I didn’t answer. I just wanted to quietly recover my body before dealing with the divorce. But that day, my father suddenly returned home, his face filled with rage. “That Justin, he’s a piece of trash!” It was from my father’s words that I learned Justin had actually started to suppress our family company! I couldn’t hold back anymore. I rushed out the door, determined to confront Justin. How could he have the nerve?! Returning to the house Justin and I shared. There was another person there: Maya, who was supposed to have left the country! Seeing me return, Justin’s face immediately darkened. Maya flinched, hiding behind Justin. Justin’s expression grew even uglier. “Carrie, do you have the nerve to come back?” I looked at him with a cold face. “Justin, why don’t I have the nerve to come back? You’re bringing your mistress into our home; how dare you lecture me? Even if we divorce, you have no right to target my dad’s company!” Justin’s eyes were dark and menacing. “Carrie, this is a warning and punishment for you! How dare you lay a hand on Maya? She was already leaving.” I looked at Justin and only felt absurdity. “I laid a hand on her? Justin, I wouldn’t want to dirty my hands!” Justin, however, sternly demanded. “Who else but you? You actually hired people to kidnap her and tried to humiliate her! Don’t you know, if I hadn’t arrived in time, Maya would have been ruined!” His gaze was cold, and a smirk played on his lips. “You once said you’d ruin Maya, didn’t you?” Yes, the crazy me, who once deeply loved Justin, had sworn to fight Maya to the death. But not anymore. I looked at Maya. She was softly sobbing behind Justin, but her eyes, when she looked at me, were full of provocation. I understood then: Maya had never intended to leave the country, never intended to leave at all. She was just playing a game of retreating to advance. The whole “kidnapping and humiliation” was her own well-staged act. Only Justin fell for it. Maya cautiously tugged at Justin’s sleeve. “Justin, please don’t argue with Ms. Jiang. I’m fine. It’s all my fault for getting too close to you, that’s why Ms. Jiang is angry. Don’t worry, I’ll definitely leave.” Justin, however, loudly stopped Maya. “Maya, don’t be afraid! I won’t let you leave! Going abroad alone, unfamiliar with the place, who knows what could happen.” After comforting Maya, Justin turned to me. “Carrie, I’ll arrange for Maya to work at a branch company. She won’t appear before us. This is compensation for you hurting her this time. Put away your petty thoughts. I told you, you will always be Mrs. Thorne.” At this point, his voice softened. “This time, I won’t pursue it. I know you care about me, and you’re just confused because you care. The partnership between Thorne Inc. and Jiang Corp. will continue. I’ll hold a press conference to stabilize the situation. We’re about to become parents, let’s be good and stop fighting, okay?” I only found it comical. He didn’t know the baby was already gone. The moment he chose Maya again. I didn’t want to argue with Justin anymore. Since he had no shame, I didn’t need to show any mercy. I gave Justin a deep look, then smiled and nodded. This time, I was going to give Justin a grand gift.

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1 The day after my engagement, I stumbled upon a forum post online: [What’s the psychology behind people who knowingly become the other woman?] The top comment immediately hit with that “profound truth”: [FYI, the unloved one is the side chick!] [Even though my boyfriend already has a fiancée, I don’t consider myself to be interfering in their relationship.] [He gives me his time, money, and love. Every night he expends his energy on me, while his fiancée, who knows how long it’s been since she’s been ‘satisfied’~] Someone below asked how she could be so sure they weren’t. This ID, “Stargazing Bunny,” immediately replied: [I put my exclusive temporary tattoo on that part of him—it’s a bunny, you know~ Every time he comes to me, I check. If it’s not there, I don’t let him touch me. He guards it so carefully!] [After all, I’m young and fresh, and his fiancée is old and withered. Only a fool wouldn’t know who to choose.] [Yesterday was his fiancée’s 28th birthday, and he didn’t even go back to spend it with her. He just sent a “Happy Birthday” at midnight, oh, and he sent it while we were “exercising” in my bed. He even asked if it was exciting, so annoying~] My fingers froze. Yesterday was my 28th birthday. … Almost instantly, I knew. Harrison Thorne was cheating. I scrolled down further. Stargazing Bunny’s profile had other posts. The previous one, posted three days ago: [Today I casually mentioned wanting to try that private kitchen on the West Side, and Mr. T drove me there at noon. It took over three hours round trip, just for me to have a meal. I fell asleep on the way back, and he let me rest my head on his arm the whole time.] [His fiancée called to ask if he was coming home for dinner, and he said he was tied up at work. After hanging up, he winked at me and said, “Now, you are my work”~] The accompanying photo was of a steering wheel. Outside the window was that familiar old street on the West Side. No wonder that day, Harrison, who said he had a meeting. When he returned, he brought me the signature dessert from that West Side private kitchen. He said a colleague was passing by while on a project and knew I liked sweets, so he specifically had them bring me a portion. Even with his busy schedule, Harrison still thought of me. That feeling of being cherished moved me deeply. Now, it just made me sick to my stomach. Scrolling further back. Stargazing Bunny had posted a fashion dilemma: [Help me choose, ladies. Which outfit should I wear to the movies with Mr. T tomorrow? He usually wears business casual, and I don’t want to be too formal or too casual. I’m so torn.] The photo showed two small dresses spread out on a bed. I bet she chose the pale yellow floral dress. That night, Harrison, who had never commented on my outfits before, uncharacteristically asked me why I didn’t wear floral dresses. Because I was too busy with work, I usually just wore whatever was most convenient. Afraid I’d misunderstand, Harrison immediately hugged me and explained: “Of course, my wife looks good in anything. I was just thinking that when I have some free time, I’ll take you on a beach vacation. You’ve always wanted to go to the Maldives, right?” “Dresses look even more beautiful on the beach, especially bright colors like pale yellow, they give off such a sunny vibe…” “And with some curled hair, it would make for great photos!” Turns out he wasn’t describing an outfit; he was describing a person. I took a deep breath, suppressing the dull, throbbing pain in my heart. Last month, Stargazing Bunny posted two movie ticket stubs. [The most classic romance movie, of course, has to be watched with the one you love.] The showing time was 5:20 PM. That day was our five-year anniversary, Harrison’s and mine. He was very earnest when he first pursued me. He’d bring me an umbrella when it rained, and wait downstairs when I interned late into the night. When I couldn’t write my thesis, he’d help me outline it, patiently, again and again. My roommate said, “Guys like this are rare nowadays, you have to hold onto him.” I did hold onto him. For five years, Harrison was always good to me. He remembered my period, what I liked and disliked to eat, and all our important dates. He truly hadn’t forgotten. But he had broken his promise. 2 My fingers trembled, barely able to scroll the screen. I flipped to the very beginning. Last September, “Stargazing Bunny” posted several consecutive updates. [Today at the gym, I met a super charismatic man! I was warming up, and he was running next to me. After finishing a set, I looked up and found him looking right at me. He even smiled.] [When I was changing equipment, I accidentally knocked over my water bottle, and he immediately came over to help clean it up, asking if I got burned. His voice was so nice, a deep bass; it must be so sexy when he’s breathing hard~] [Today I saw a woman on his phone’s lock screen. He said she was his fiancée, but not as pretty as me.] [Damn it, why is such a disciplined and gentle man already taken? I don’t care, I have to get him!] Harrison had maintained a gym routine for many years. But he wasn’t very diligent in going every week. It seemed that it was from last September that he started frequenting the gym. At the time, I had discomfort in my lower back from sitting too long at the office and also thought about exercising. But Harrison said his gym was too far from my company and inconvenient. He actively helped me find another, nicer gym nearby and bought me an annual membership. I thought he was being considerate, thinking of me. Turns out, this was the real reason. That man who swore he loved me, wanted to spend his life with me, and promised eternal fidelity. All his “overtime” and “busyness” for the past six months. He wasn’t working hard for our future; he was spending all his time with another woman. For a moment, I wanted to storm directly into Harrison’s company, in front of everyone. Throw the evidence in his face, demand to know why he did this to me. Humiliate him completely, ruin his reputation. But such a public showdown seemed so ugly. Five years together, why should it come to this? I braced myself on the table and staggered into the restroom. Splashing cold water on my face, I calmed down slightly. Picking up my phone, I refreshed the page. “Stargazing Bunny” had just posted a new update. [Tonight, he said he had a business dinner, but he really just didn’t want to go back to face that old woman~ Anyway, he’s here with me. We ordered crawfish and beer. He peels shrimp so seriously, more seriously than he takes off his own clothes, hehe.] The accompanying picture showed a man’s hands peeling shrimp, his knuckles distinct. Above that, his collar was slightly open, revealing a sexy collarbone and Adam’s apple. This angle, this action—I was all too familiar with them. Once upon a time, Harrison used to sit across from me like this, peeling and deveining shrimp for me. I worried he was working too hard, but he just smiled and said: “What’s so hard about serving my wife?” “Anyway, in this life, I’ll only ever serve one woman: you.” My phone suddenly vibrated. A message from Harrison: [Wife, I’ll be home a bit late. Want me to bring you some late-night food? Crawfish, do you want some?] I stared at that line of text for a long time. Every time he said that before, I would send a happy emoji. I paused, then typed: [No thanks, I’m not hungry.] He replied instantly: [Okay then, get some rest if you’re tired.] The sound of the lock turning. I looked at the clock, 10:30 PM. Harrison pushed the door open, carrying a cake box. Seeing me sitting in the living room, he froze for a moment, then walked over with a smile. “Didn’t I tell you to go to bed early? Why are you still waiting for me?” He placed the cake box on the coffee table and opened it. It was a strawberry cake from my favorite shop. “Passed by and saw their new seasonal limited edition. Thought you’d definitely like it, so I bought it. Consider it a belated birthday treat. I’ve been so busy lately. Thank you, my wife, for being so understanding and generous, for understanding that your husband’s work is tough and he can’t always be with you.” He spoke, reaching out to touch my head. His tone was natural, his movements fluid. No different from any ordinary night over the past five years. I looked at him. That familiar face, those gentle eyes, that hand rubbing my head. He didn’t look like a cheating man at all. But that hand, an hour ago, hadn’t it touched another girl? Touched every inch of her skin? I closed my eyes in disgust, pulling away from his touch. Harrison’s hand froze in mid-air. “What’s wrong, wife?” “You don’t look so good. Did you encounter a difficult client again?” I calmly explained, “No, just a little tired.” “Then I’ll cut you some cake. Eat a bite and then go to bed, okay?” I watched him lower his head. The contents of that forum post flashed repeatedly in my mind. “Sent birthday wishes while ‘exercising’ in my bed,” “his fiancée is old and withered,” “the unloved one is the side chick.” The unloved one is the side chick. Perhaps in some people’s eyes, love is a competition where first come, first served doesn’t matter. As long as the first one isn’t firmly chosen, they can be righteously replaced by the next. “Harrison.” He looked up, still holding the cake knife. “Hm?” I looked into his eyes, enunciating each word: “Do you have anything else you want to tell me?” 3 That was the last chance I gave Harrison. As long as he confessed proactively, we could part amicably, preserving his last shred of dignity. And it would have brought closure to my final lingering sentiment for our five-year relationship. “What do you mean?” “Helen, what’s gotten into you today?” Harrison’s expression also paused. Perhaps it was guilt. Perhaps it was a test. For the first time in five years, I couldn’t read the man in front of me. “Harrison, are you hiding something from me?” The fingers gripping the cake knife tightened slightly. Just for an instant, then his expression returned to normal as he continued to cut the cake. “Hiding what from you?” His voice was gentle as he offered the first slice he cut to me. “Did I upset my wife by secretly buying a strawberry cake without telling her?” The scent of strawberries wafted over. My favorite smell. Before, every time I smelled it, I couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him. Now, looking at that slice of cake, I just felt nauseous. “Answer my question.” The smile on his face slowly faded. He placed the cake on the coffee table and sat across from me. His hands were clasped on his knees, his posture relaxed. But his gaze was fixed on me. “Helen, did something happen to you?” He was observing me. After five years of being together, I could discern the meaning of his every micro-expression. At this moment, the corners of his mouth were slightly downturned, and there was a faint crease between his brows. It was his tense posture when facing an uncertain situation. “Harrison, I’m asking you right now. Answer me first.” Silence spread between us. His phone suddenly rang. He glanced at the screen, didn’t answer, and immediately pressed to dismiss the call. “Work stuff. I’ll call them back later.” I casually said, “Call them back now. What if it’s important?” “Nothing is more important than you.” Harrison had said that countless times. Each time, I believed it. Now, it only felt ironic. “Helen.” He called my name seriously, his gaze focused. “I don’t know if my recent lack of companionship has made you overthink. But I can tell you, I’m not hiding anything from you. It’s been five years, you know best what kind of person I am.” I was silent for a moment, then asked again, “Where were you this afternoon?” His eyes flickered slightly, then quickly returned to normal. “At the office. I had a meeting until after one.” “Who did you have lunch with?” “Ordered some takeout, just grabbed something quick.” “And tonight?” Harrison paused. “Didn’t I tell you? I had a business dinner. Smell me, I still have the scent of alcohol on my breath.” He said, trying to lean closer to me. Seeing my disgusted expression, he looked hurt. “Alright, alright, I know my wife doesn’t like me drinking. I’ll go shower right away.” The sound of rushing water from the bathroom. I stood at the door, hearing a muffled voice from inside. “Didn’t I tell you not to call me when I’m home? What if she finds out? She seems to have noticed something lately…” “No way, she’s the only daughter-in-law my parents recognized long ago. I can’t break up with her. Just be good. Besides going public, I’ll give you whatever you want.” “Little minx, next week you won’t be able to get out of bed. See how I’ll satisfy you.” Hearing this with my own ears, I thought I would be heartbroken to the point of tearing myself apart. But in reality, there was only a dull, spreading numbness. Perhaps my heart had truly given up. At 3 AM, Harrison was already asleep. His phone lay on the bedside table, screen down. I picked it up; the password was my birthday, unchanged. I checked it, and there was no abnormality. Just when I thought he had cleaned everything, I suddenly remembered he had a so-called work-only private account. Switching over, there was only one contact named [Ms. Bunny]. The chat history was dense. Besides daily exchanges, it was mostly indecent flirtation and teasing. Before he left in the morning, she asked: [Are you up?] He replied: [Both I and it are up.] Accompanied by a picture of a blanket bulging. At noon, he sent: [So conflicted, don’t know what to eat.] She replied with a selfie wearing lace: [How about eating me?] After saving all the evidence, I put the phone back in its place. Turning my head, I looked at the man’s sleeping profile. I suddenly remembered something. My hand reached for his pants. Just as I started to pull them down, Harrison noticed my movement. He groggily opened his eyes and pressed my hand down. “Wife, do you want to? I’ve been so tired from work lately. Let’s do it another time.” Was he really tired from work? Or had he expended all his energy on that Ms. Bunny? I remembered the glimpse I had just caught. The bunny tattoo. “Harrison, wake up. Tell me the truth.” “Who is that woman?”

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