Category: English

Three months into my pregnancy, Henry abandoned me on a sinking cruise ship. All because his childhood sweetheart, Lena, shrieked that she was afraid of water. I pleaded with him to save me and our baby, but he pushed me off the lifeboat. “Can’t you swim? You won’t die!” After being rescued from the sea, I needed surgery for the loss of our baby, but I couldn’t reach Henry to sign the consent form. Then, I saw Lena’s social media post: “True love revealed in hardship. Mr. Dungey, it’s an honor.” The picture showed them wrapped in the same blanket, soaked and scantily clad. After recovering, I drove straight to the Rockies. Henry, who hadn’t contacted me for a month, frantically called me. “Windy, the wedding dress is ready. Aren’t you getting married anymore?” 1. After the farewell convoy departed, I switched on my old phone. Hundreds of missed calls from Henry popped up. Answering, Henry’s voice, thick with suppressed anger, demanded, “Windy, where have you been lately?” “I couldn’t reach you on your phone, and you didn’t reply to my messages. My parents reminded you several times to try on the wedding dress, but they couldn’t find you. Do you even want to get married anymore?” I looked at the signed divorce papers in my hand. “Then let’s not bother!” “Windy, what fresh madness is this?” “You were the one who said we’d only get the marriage certificate without a ceremony, and now the invitations have been sent out, and you’re backing out again!” The sound on the other end was noisy. A sweet female voice was comforting him, and his tone softened slightly after being soothed. “Wait there, I’ll pick you up first. We’ll go try on the wedding dress.” The wedding dress was custom-made, and the most expensive part of this minimalist wedding. I had fantasized countless times about marrying him in the most beautiful dress, watched by friends and family. Now, I simply didn’t care. Henry had a new car, a striking sapphire blue, quite flashy. Sitting in the passenger seat, the sunlight was blinding. I pulled down the sun visor and saw lipstick writing on the mirror: “Mr. Dungey love Ms. Lane.” Henry suddenly explained to me, “I replaced the previous car. It was too cheap, unfitting for my status.” That car had been a birthday gift I saved up for, painstakingly. From its color to its interior, every detail was carefully chosen by me. Like me, it had been replaced by Henry. The car stopped in front of the bridal shop. I didn’t get out. “When did you change shops? I remember I chose the one by ‘A’.” Henry pulled me out of the car, casually replying, “A friend said this one was nicer.” I preferred silk wedding gowns, but this shop, from inside to out, was filled with exaggerated ballgowns. My wedding dress was already chosen, yet it was so easily changed to suit Lena’s preference. A salesperson led me to the fitting room. The dress fit well but clashed with my demeanor, much like Henry and I now. Henry looked at me, a rare hint of amazement in his eyes. But I knew it was only for the dress. He deliberately avoided looking at me, imagining Lena wearing it. “This is the one!” he decided without hesitation. I silently allowed him to pull me away. After getting into the car, he asked me, “Why the long face after trying on the wedding dress?” “Haven’t you already had your fun? Still not happy?” “How long are you going to be jealous over such a small thing?” During last month’s cruise trip, when the ship hit a reef and was about to sink, he pushed me off the lifeboat. All because Lena was afraid of water, and I had learned to swim ten years ago. I lost our baby, yet he found his true love, almost completely forgetting about it. Seeing my silence, he began to lecture me. “Of all places, why did you have to go to the mountains!” “And you were pregnant! You’re not twenty anymore; why can’t you be more responsible?” “As a mother, you need to be more steady! The baby is your responsibility now.” I said coldly, “And he wasn’t your responsibility?” “The day the cruise ship sank, when you pushed me off, did you think about the responsibility I carried in my belly?” Henry turned his face away. “Don’t try to twist my words here. I’m not falling for it.” “Go get checked, make sure the baby is alright.” Looking up, we were at the entrance of the obstetrics and gynecology department. The doctor who performed my abortion nervously asked me, “Didn’t you have an abortion last month? Are you feeling unwell?” 2. Henry, who had been lazily sitting aside, looking at his phone, froze when he heard this. “Abortion surgery?” “Windy, you had an abortion behind my back? When was this?” The waiting room was crowded, and all eyes were on us. I looked at his betrayed expression, suddenly remembering two months ago, when he had just discovered my pregnancy and was happily spinning me around in the same hospital lobby. When we first got married, we weren’t well-off. We had been legally married for years but never had a wedding ceremony. It wasn’t until after I got pregnant and our financial situation improved that I brought up the wedding again, and he was eager then. But now, his indifference tore me apart. In two months, he found true love, and my love sank to the bottom of the ocean. Someone came to mediate, and Henry frowned, pulling me into the stairwell. “June 3rd.” I looked up and saw the anger on his face solidify. That day, the cruise ship accident happened. I was abandoned in the cold sea for five hours before being pulled out. And he had already confessed his heart to Lena and gone home with her. Henry’s voice softened. “Did you get checked after your surgery? You shouldn’t hurt your body.” “You suffered so much and didn’t tell me, running off to the mountains by yourself without proper rest.” He reached out and put his arm around my shoulder. “Let me still take you for a check-up, in case there are any lingering effects. We can have children later.” A phone rang in the empty stairwell—a love song. Henry always used the default ringtone, but for Lena, he was always willing to create unique romantic gestures. Lena’s playful voice came from the other end. “Mr. Dungey, are you free today? I was thinking, the cruise ship accident was too dangerous. To protect myself, I need to learn how to swim.” “Would Mr. Dungey be my exclusive coach?” “I’ve been afraid of water since I was little, and I only trust Mr. Dungey.” Henry clearly enjoyed this kind of affection, an unconscious smile spreading across his face. After hanging up, he glanced at me, annoyance in his eyes. “If you hadn’t had the abortion, none of this would be happening.” “Let’s skip today’s check-up. Something urgent came up. I’ll ask my mom to bring you another day!” He left in a hurry, not even taking me with him. I pushed open the door, walked out into the pitying stares of the lobby, and hailed a taxi. It was already July, and the air was hot and suffocating. It felt like drowning in seawater, my heart aching with a dull pain, yet not a single tear could fall. Back home, Henry’s mother called, her voice stern. “Windy, I heard about the abortion.” “You’re just unlucky.” “I’ll take you for a check-up in a couple of days, to make sure it doesn’t affect your future fertility.” I didn’t respond, and her voice softened slightly. “Windy, you grew up without parents. Your uncle and I treat you like our own daughter.” “Don’t blame me for being blunt. A child is gone; life goes on. I’m just worried about your health. If you can have children, then your family line will continue!” Once, I genuinely considered her a mother, thinking that by marrying Henry, I would have a complete family again. But now, I saw clearly that her seemingly righteous words were only about my fertility. “Tomorrow, I’ve invited a priest to perform a ritual for the baby at home. I’ll have Henry come back to send him off too.” “The baby is gone, but your relationship still needs to last.” I placed the old phone face down on the table. If I didn’t listen, I wouldn’t hurt anymore. 3. Perhaps it was from not eating all day, but when I lay down, my stomach cramped with agonizing pain. I wanted to go downstairs and grab something, but I felt nauseous and had no appetite. This marital home, filled with his presence, made me feel utterly miserable. Breaking out in a cold sweat, stars dancing before my eyes, I opened my phone to buy some medicine. Instead, I saw Lena had updated her social media again and even specifically sent me a screenshot. After confirming I had seen it, she retracted the message. “Mr. Dungey is my private swimming coach today!” The picture showed a sparkling blue pool and a selfie of Lena in a bikini. She was sitting on Henry’s lap. Henry’s face wasn’t visible, but the tattoo on his abs was unmistakable. It was my initials, once a symbol of our love. The pain of the stomach cramps, accompanied by ringing in my ears and nausea, surged, and my phone clattered onto the bed. After an unknown amount of time, I recovered somewhat and walked to the door, hearing Henry’s movements as he came home. He was climbing the stairs, on a video call with Lena. His voice was soft and tender, full of affection. “I’m going to the city for a business trip next month. Are you coming?” Lena chuckled. “Of course. We’re going to leave traces of our love everywhere.” I leaned against the door, curled up into myself. No one wants to give up someone they love so dearly. But when silence and heartache accumulate, even if it hurts terribly, it’s time to leave. Henry and I once supported each other, from two junior interns in the company to department directors. We had seen the city at four in the morning, worked overtime for half a year straight, postponed, and then finally canceled our wedding, all for one major project. In the busiest, most exhausting, and toughest times, we would prepare lunchboxes for each other. When we finally found a moment to open them, the food had already spoiled. We comforted each other, promising that after our careers succeeded, and before our rescheduled wedding, we would go to the mountains together, to see the golden sunlight on the peaks. But in the end, only I went. I searched through the embers of our love, but could no longer find a single spark. The next night, I was awakened by the mournful sounds of instruments. Henry’s mother had indeed hired a funeral band, and even prepared a memorial tablet for the unborn child. Henry was ordered to keep vigil, his head bowed, tapping on his phone screen the whole time. Only when I got closer did I see the chat window with Lena. “My mom is making a mountain out of a molehill!” “It’s just a dead baby, without even a name, a tiny fertilized egg, why keep vigil for it!” “It’s not like Windy died.” “I promised to take you to the hot spring resort yesterday, but we’ll have to go another time.” I returned to my room, opened the company system, and submitted my resignation. I used to dislike Oceanport, but it was Henry’s home, so I stayed here for many years. I didn’t speak the local dialect, didn’t like the local cuisine; I was always an out-of-place outsider. Now, I was determined to start a new life, so I would leave! 4. Before leaving, I went to the company to handle my resignation and bumped into Lena bringing lunch to Henry. “You got fired?” Her eyes were taunting. “Serves you right!” “I told Mr. Dungey long ago that IT isn’t suitable for women. See, you stayed so long, and you still have to leave!” She patted my shoulder. “Windy, love is the same. Incompatible people, even if they get married, will eventually divorce.” “Besides, who even knows about your marriage, apart from having a certificate?” I pushed her hand away and walked straight to the door. She thought I didn’t know that these past two months, Henry and she often secretly stayed on the company’s rooftop. Lunch break ended at two, but as soon as she brought Henry his meal, he would stay on the rooftop until four before coming down to work. He was the Deputy Director of Marketing, often on business trips, so he rarely came to the office. He wasn’t at home either; he was probably enjoying himself with Lena. However, from now on, he probably wouldn’t be smiling. When I resigned, Mr. Edwards spoke to me from the heart, but his message was clear: he was going to fire Henry. Previously, as Director of R&D and a key figure in the company, our relationship made it difficult to embarrass Henry. But now, with my firm decision to leave, the Deputy Director of Marketing position could be replaced. Mr. Edwards said, “Mr. Davies’s son just graduated and returned home, and Mr. Davies intends for him to take over as director.” I said, “Then let it be so!” As I walked out the main entrance, it was almost noon, and Henry was just hurrying in to clock in for work. Seeing me with a box, he was first puzzled, then quickly understood. “Alright, the wedding is this Sunday.” “Go home and rest well. After you’re married, don’t run off anymore. That way you’ll also have an easier time.” Lena stood behind me, her tone intimate. “Is Mr. Dungey looking down on ambitious career women?” She was a makeup artist, traveling everywhere to do makeup. As far as I knew, at least four or five times, Henry told me he was on a business trip, but he was actually traveling with her. Henry and I had been married for so many years and had never traveled together, except for the cruise trip. The trip to the Rockies I always wanted was postponed again and again. But that one time, when I suggested the cruise trip, he didn’t refuse. It was only because Lena was also going. I looked up. Henry’s smile was radiant, as tender as when we were first in love. “Lena, you know you’re different.” That tenderness was already someone else’s. My colleagues in the department wanted to hold a farewell party for me. I didn’t want to make a big deal, so I quietly left. This only further convinced Henry that I was out of options in the industry, heartbroken after losing the baby, and was returning home to be a housewife. He coldly brushed past me, saying only one thing. “After the wedding, I’ll give you everything you want.” “Stop with your childish antics and schemes!” I smiled. “Alright, I won’t cause trouble anymore.” And I don’t want you anymore. “Henry, let’s get a divorce!” He scoffed. “Windy, were you fired and it upset you?” “The cost of living in Oceanport is so high. You’ve lost your job and you want a divorce from me. Wouldn’t you have to slink away from Oceanport?” He finally dropped his pretense, revealing a harsh, sneering face. I wasn’t surprised, didn’t give him a glance, and hailed a taxi to leave. Back home, the bridal shop had already delivered the ordered wedding dress. The enormous ballgown filled the wardrobe to bursting. I gazed at the magnificent skirt, but I couldn’t recall the joy I felt when we first started planning the wedding. Grabbing a pair of scissors, I cut the skirt into shreds, then tossed it into the trash along with my wedding ring. The garbage truck swallowed the white tulle, now stained, like this chaotic love.

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The ‘first love’ of the city’s most powerful magnate had returned. He’d abandoned an international conference, eager to greet her at the airport. Everyone was buzzing, saying they were finally going to marry. As the most sensible “songbird” by his side, I decisively packed my bags and fled with my savings. Before leaving the country, I sent a farewell message to the magnate: [I’m going abroad, goodbye.] But I accidentally typed “astray” instead of “abroad.” Moments later, I was cornered by a group of men in black at the airport. The one leading them gritted his teeth, his voice laced with fury. “You’re really playing a wild game now, aren’t you?” 1 “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…” Penny leaned in, curious. “What are you counting?” I pointed at my phone screen. “The number of digits in my bank balance.” Her jaw practically hit the floor. “Mr. Duff is that generous with you?” I offered a noncommittal shrug. Everyone in the city knew about Mr. Duff’s pampered little songbird. That would be me. He was usually aloof with everyone else, but he looked after me exceptionally well. My every wish was practically his command. That’s why I had happily lived in the Duff family estate for three years, letting him have his way. But lately, I’d been considering making a break for it. Because Mr. Duff’s ‘first love’ was returning home. Everyone knew that years ago, before Mr. Duff had consolidated his power, his first love was forcibly sent abroad due to family meddling. Their painful separation had left lingering bitterness. Now, Mr. Duff held immense sway, with enough influence to protect anyone he cherished. He could finally have his fairy-tale ending with his first love. But what about me, with no official title or standing? What would my ending be? Just as I was thinking this, a message from Mr. Duff popped up. [Tiger-stripe taro swirl or matcha mille-feuille? I’ll be home in an hour.] I pursed my lips. He was always like this. So thoughtful about these things, which seemed utterly out of character for him. After a moment, I replied: [Neither.] He didn’t reply again. But when he arrived home, he exacted his revenge by bringing two large bags of desserts. “Bad mood?” Mr. Duff naturally wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, his soft kisses brushing against my neck. In the space of my silence, his large hand expertly traced down my spine, effortlessly untying the ribbon at my back. I leaned my head against his chest, choosing to deny it. “No.” He didn’t press further, simply lifted me, placed me on the sofa, and leaned over me. “If something’s bothering you, you should tell me.” My legs felt like jelly. Mr. Duff always did this. He’d first stir me into a dizzying passion, then coax me into saying what he wanted to hear. I was utterly defenseless against him, only able to ask in a soft voice. “Mr. Duff… I was wondering, if I were to leave here…” My tentative question was cut short by a fierce, heavy kiss. It stole my breath, leaving me no strength to speak. “Don’t ask.” My mind was a blur, as if fireworks were exploding. Didn’t he just tell me to speak my mind? And now he wouldn’t listen? 2 The next morning, when I dragged myself out of bed, aching all over, Mr. Duff was already gone. Recalling his uncharacteristically intense behavior last night, my legs still felt weak. That stubborn man, always tormenting me. Would he be so unrestrained with his first love? I picked up my phone indignantly, only to find the group chat had blown up. Thanks to Mr. Duff, I’d long since infiltrated the city’s socialite circle. Several people were frantically tagging me. [Girls, who heard? Amelia came back early today, and Mr. Duff literally ditched an international meeting to pick her up at the airport!] [Where’s Serena? Why hasn’t she replied?] [Has her Mr. Duff been working her over so much she still hasn’t woken up?] [Seriously, Serena has it good. Such blessings.] [@Serena, if you don’t wake up, your man’s going to be stolen!] [Though I hate to be a downer, Serena, Mr. Duff’s actions definitely mean he hasn’t moved on.] [I heard Amelia saved his life when they were kids. If not for their families’ opposition, they would have been married long ago.] [Even though Mr. Duff spoils Serena like crazy, I don’t think he’ll ever marry her…] There were also a few photos someone had snapped. The background was the airport, a man and a woman, walking side by side. The man was pulling a suitcase, and the woman was smiling gently up at him. The sweet vibe screamed “couple.” The man was Mr. Duff. The woman… actually bore a striking resemblance to me. So this was his first love, Amelia? 3 As much as I disliked being conceited, Amelia’s face truly bore a five-point resemblance to mine. Mr. Duff had been treating me as a stand-in! Enraged, I simmered for a moment. After a day of agonizing thought, I decided to make a break for it. What, was giving his first love my spot not good enough for him? But with someone like Mr. Duff, running away meant acting first and informing later. Otherwise, if he knew I was planning to dump him, he’d never let me go. I started secretly selling off luxury items that were inconvenient to carry and depositing the money into another account. But when I sold the eighteenth bag, Mr. Duff found out. “Serena. Are you short on money lately?” He sat formally in his armchair, his expression unreadable. But the deep indent in the soft leather of the sofa hinted at his foul mood. I hung my head, speechless. Damn it! How was I supposed to know that bag was custom-made by a designer specifically for Mr. Duff? That cursed reseller had immediately put it up for auction! Mr. Duff showed no outward displeasure, glancing at the exquisitely crafted bag nearby. “Do you know your name was engraved on it?” Would I have dared to sell it if I knew that? I muttered to myself. Even though I was thinking that, in reality, I gently draped myself around Mr. Duff’s neck, tilted my head, and kissed his earlobe. “I’m sorry…” Three years together, I knew exactly how to please him. But this time, he did nothing. He merely squeezed my lower back in a punishing grip, taking a deep breath. “If you need money, tell me.” That very evening, ten million dollars appeared in my account. I silently counted my balance again. As long as I wasn’t too extravagant, this money was enough for me to live comfortably for the rest of my life. As for leaving Mr. Duff… I really couldn’t put it off any longer. 4 As soon as my visa came through, I started discreetly inquiring about Mr. Duff’s schedule. Rumor had it that after Amelia returned, she planned to visit her hometown, and Mr. Duff would accompany her. “Mr. Duff, I heard from Mrs. Davies that you’re packing your bags again?” Hearing my sudden question, Mr. Duff paused his movements. He frowned, pushing himself up. “You seem very interested in my affairs lately.” I took the opportunity to roll over, obediently resting on his chest, blinking my eyes. “Don’t you like it?” Mr. Duff clearly found this pleasing. He chuckled, reaching out to cup my waist. “No.” He pressed the back of my head, biting my earlobe, his other hand moving with just the right amount of pressure. I instinctively squirmed. But he held my shoulders, forcing me to feel his warm breath against my ear. “Serena, I love it when you care about me.” Trapped in his embrace, unable to move, I could only whimper a few times. In my mind, I silently scoffed, Why is he so mushy? He only says sweet things like this in bed. Pfft. 5 Mr. Duff told me he would be going on a business trip to a neighboring city for three days, starting the day after tomorrow. I began packing my luggage that very day. And, that morning, I sweetly and amiably saw him off. Hmph, calling it a business trip. Did he think I didn’t see Amelia follow him out right after he left? That stubborn man, going on a trip with his first love and keeping it from me. Good thing I was already planning my escape. Calculating the time, Mr. Duff should have already arrived in the neighboring city. I immediately dragged my luggage to the airport. Standing at the airport entrance, I looked back at this familiar city, sighing. Goodbye, my city. What could I do? I was just a gilded cage bird. After much thought, I still pulled out my phone and sent Mr. Duff a farewell message. [Mr. Duff, thank you for your care over the past three years, but I plan to cheat now. Apologies, I wish you all the best, goodbye.] After sending it, I quickly blocked and deleted him. My movements were so swift that I didn’t notice I’d made a typo. I turned off my phone and dragged my luggage through security. After getting my boarding pass, I comfortably lay in the waiting lounge, eating dessert. But after only a couple of bites, the big screen suddenly showed my flight was delayed. The reason for the delay was “passenger reasons.” When I asked, they said an important first-class passenger hadn’t arrived yet. I felt indignant. I bought a first-class ticket too! But the pretty attendant gently and apologetically brought me a plate of mini cakes. And then I was appeased. I started eating, planning how to spend the money I’d saved over the years. Just as I leisurely finished, a large group of men in black suddenly surged through the entrance. They surrounded me, their presence so overwhelming that the small fork in my hand clattered onto the table. Then, a familiar figure walked in, his face contorted with fury. He stalked towards me, practically gnashing his teeth. “Serena Jen, you’re playing quite loose now, aren’t you?” 6 Gasp. Could Mr. Duff teleport? How did he get here? But I couldn’t ask any questions. Mr. Duff had already grabbed me like a chicken by the neck. A group of bodyguards escorted me, making me feel like a misbehaving elementary schooler caught by their parents. People passing by frequently stared at me. I covered my face. So embarrassing, so utterly humiliating! Damn Mr. Duff. The next time he tries to kiss me, I absolutely will not open my mouth! But Mr. Duff’s aura was terrifyingly low throughout the journey, so I dared not speak. It wasn’t until I was escorted home and saw his expressionless face that I tentatively spoke. “Mr. Duff, I…” My unfinished sentence was quickly swallowed. Mr. Duff spun around, pinning me against the door, gripping my chin and kissing me fiercely. He roughly pried open my lips, more frenzied than any time before. Within moments, I was breathless, my entire body melting into his embrace. Only then did Mr. Duff release my mouth, scoop me up, and carry me upstairs. “You… what? Getting bold, Serena Jen?” He finished, even swatting my behind. I was utterly mortified, kicking my legs wildly. “Mr. Duff!” The next second, he pinned my legs and threw me onto the bed. With one hand, Mr. Duff held me down; with the other, he swiftly yanked off his tie. “What? Cheating? What ‘track’ are you trying to stray onto? Am I not enough to satisfy you?” After years of being together, he knew my sensitive spots intimately. His large hand, completely devoid of chivalry, covered me. My mind hadn’t even processed what he was saying, but my insteps were already curling unconsciously, and I was whimpering and crying. “Who’s cheating? Mr. Duff, gentle, please, ohh ohh ohh.” He chuckled, intensifying his movements. I nearly screamed. Physiological tears welled up, and I cried even harder. “Mr. Duff, you’re not playing fair, ohh ohh ohh!” … You really can’t provoke Mr. Duff in bed. By the end, I didn’t even have the strength to beg for mercy. I lay soft and limp in his arms, weakly scratching at him. Mr. Duff then fumbled for another one from the nightstand. “You just needed a good lesson.” 7 I drifted in and out of consciousness until dinner time. The phone screen on the bedside table lit up. I groggily picked it up, realizing it was Mr. Duff’s. Amelia had sent him several messages, which I didn’t dare open. Just as I was about to close it, I noticed Mr. Duff actually had me pinned to the top of his WeChat. I tapped it open, finding he had sent me many messages. The first few were all red exclamation marks. [?] [Are you serious?] […] [You actually blocked me?] [Serena Jen, unblock me right now!] … [Who is he?] [Can’t we talk about this?] [You really did it.] [You just wait.] I was surprised. How could he have sent so many messages, knowing he was blocked? I scrolled up through a mountain of messages. Finally, I saw the message I’d sent right before I blocked him. [Apologies, I plan to cheat now.] Plan to cheat now… cheat now… now. Miss Manners was quite polite, wasn’t she? OMG. Didn’t I mean to say go abroad? How could I make such a huge blunder?! No wonder Mr. Duff was so angry. I had been wondering if he simply couldn’t bear to lose me. But if he couldn’t accept that the woman he was keeping had cheated on him, well, that made perfect sense. As I stood there in shock, Mr. Duff rolled over beside me and pulled me into his arms. He squinted at the phone in my hand. “What are you looking at? Checking up on me?” I sheepishly put the phone back on the nightstand. “Hardly.” I knew my place as the sugar baby to the sugar daddy. He pinched my waist. “I think you dare to do anything.” Feeling his hand on me, I instinctively flinched. “Again, already?” Mr. Duff raised an eyebrow. “Not enough?” I didn’t speak. He already pushed himself up. “I’m not done.” I closed my eyes. How could one man have so much stamina?! 8 It wasn’t until I got up and opened my own phone that the realization hit me. Wait. How did I open Mr. Duff’s phone just now? I entered my own password. How was his password also my birthday? But I didn’t ponder for too long. Mr. Duff had already put on his trousers and buckled his belt. “I need to go out for a bit. Don’t wait up for me to sleep tonight.” Hearing the word “sleep,” a shiver ran down my spine, my legs still weak. No way I’d wait up, absolutely no way. Noticing the change in my expression, Mr. Duff leaned down and kissed me soothingly. “If you still want to go abroad, wait until I’m done with work, and I’ll go with you. Don’t cheat again.” He chuckled softly. I bit him indignantly. “You said it again!” Mwah! He actually laughed at me for half an hour about that “cheating” typo, even after I explained I meant to go abroad! Mr. Duff quickly hurried out the door. Hmph, dressing himself up so handsomely. Just because Amelia sent him a few messages? Getting all worked up like that. Stubborn man. Even if I wasn’t going to cheat, I wouldn’t just sit around and do nothing! I indignantly opened the socialite group chat. They were buzzing about Amelia heading straight to the jewelry store after returning from her hometown alone. [Didn’t they say they were going to her hometown together? But Mr. Duff came back first this afternoon, and Amelia only returned much later by herself.] [I bet they had a spat on the way, throwing a fit.] [Amelia going to the jewelry store must mean Mr. Duff is buying something to appease her.] [Exactly, exactly! Haven’t you heard? Mr. Duff’s car was also heading towards the jewelry street. So late, such a coincidence—what else could it be for?] [What about Serena? Mr. Duff came back this afternoon to find Serena, right?] [Ugh, don’t mind me saying this, but when a man gets frustrated by his first love, he takes it out on his little songbird. Isn’t that standard procedure?] [Tsk, you’re right.] [Poor Serena has been missing for several hours again.] [Mr. Duff’s stamina is truly unmatched by ordinary men…] …A lot of chattering. The latest message was— [No, girls, oh my god, my friend at the jewelry store just messaged me—Mr. Duff bought Amelia an engagement ring!] [Apparently it’s a custom-made one! Engraved with Amelia’s details!] My heart sank as I read the messages. Following closely was a picture. It was a blurry candid shot. But I could make out Mr. Duff and Amelia together at the engagement ring counter. On the counter was a card, which read: [Customization Request: Customer’s Birthday: 08/06, Scalloped edge.] Damn it. Amelia’s birthday was the same as mine? So Mr. Duff’s phone password wasn’t my birthday. It was Amelia’s birthday! I silently looked at the smiling faces of the two people in the photo. An indescribable emotion spread through my heart. He had just said he’d go abroad with me, and now he was buying someone else an engagement ring? Mr. Duff’s words were all bullshit. Pfft, pfft, pfft!

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I was raised by the powerful Ashworth family, though I was just their adopted daughter. My older sister, Eleanor, found me in a rubbish heap and, despite immense pressure from everyone, raised me. But then the supposed ‘true’ heir returned. … She cursed Eleanor, accusing her of usurpation, and had her cruelly tortured and killed. The Ashworth parents stood by, cold and indifferent, while their son secretly snickered. They murdered the best sister in the world. None of them deserve to live in peace. The day I learned of Eleanor’s death, I rushed back from out of town. Nearly seventy-eight hours without sleep, I almost collapsed when I saw her broken, bruised body. “Mommy, Elly… Eleanor died so terribly. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t asked her to come back for my things, she wouldn’t have been assaulted and killed by those thugs. Waaah, Mommy, it’s all my fault…” Charlotte, in a frilly pink princess dress, clung to Mrs. Ashworth’s slender waist. Her eyes were red, her voice choked, but not a single tear fell. Eleanor, her wealthy mother, stroked Charlotte’s smooth, long hair, comforting her. “It was Eleanor’s bad luck, darling. How could it be your fault? Please stop crying, Mommy’s heart aches for you!” William Ashworth crunched on a lollipop, looking at Eleanor’s tattered corpse with undisguised disgust, a smirk playing on his lips. “Sis, don’t be sad over a stranger! It’s for the best she’s dead, saves her from meddling in everything. She never knew her place! Just a fake! She tricked us for years; it’s her own terrible fate!” “William! Don’t say that, Faith is still here.” Charlotte glanced at me fearfully, quickly retracting her gaze. William scoffed, “She’s just the adopted girl that fake brought back. Sis, why are you scared of her?” Mr. Ashworth, Arthur, shot him a fierce glare, and William turned away, falling silent. Arthur walked over to me. His features were refined, but his face showed no trace of sorrow. He simply stated, “The police are still hunting those thugs. They will pay for your sister’s life.” Pay for her life? I numbly lifted my eyes to look at the three of them. Their expressions varied, but none held an ounce of grief. Did they truly believe I knew nothing? The three Ashworths, in cahoots, took my sister’s life, and now they planned to pin it on some random thugs? They killed Eleanor. Not one of them will get away with it. I will make them pay with blood. I was seven when Eleanor found me. It was a brutal winter, and I was in a thin shirt, fighting stray dogs for scraps in a rubbish heap. Passersby avoided me, looking at me as if I were something filthy. When I finally managed to snatch a piece of stale bread from a dog’s mouth, I ravenously took a bite, then pulled my clothes tighter. I looked up and saw Eleanor. She wore a pristine white dress, extending her hand to me, a smile in her eyes. She looked like an angel. She said, “Little one, do you want to come home with me?” Later, I learned she was Eleanor Ashworth, the daughter of the powerful Ashworth family in the capital. Eleanor brought me back to the Ashworth mansion. I always thought wealthy people could do whatever they wanted, but Eleanor’s life in the Ashworth family wasn’t easy. She knelt outside for two days before Mr. Ashworth reluctantly agreed to adopt me. His condition was that he would arrange every aspect of Eleanor’s future life. Arthur sat high above, looking at me as if I were a small pet he could play with at will. Eleanor raised me. She was the most important person in my life. Eleanor was smart, brilliant, and she sheltered me under her wing, protecting me from any harm. Even though her own life in the Ashworth family was far from perfect. Eleanor barely tolerated her, and William despised her. Eleanor was merely a daughter of the Ashworths in name. When I was seventeen, Charlotte dramatically arrived with a DNA report, yelling at Eleanor, calling her a shameless imposter who had usurped her identity for years. That’s when I found out she was the true Ashworth heir, and Eleanor was merely a changeling. But to me, Eleanor was simply Eleanor. Eleanor was the best person in the world. If anyone harmed her, I would take their life. Charlotte was right; I was Eleanor’s loyal dog. A dog willing to do anything for her. I always repay kindness, and I always exact vengeance. After Eleanor’s death, the Ashworth family insisted on cremating her body immediately, claiming it was to let her rest in peace. It was as if they were desperate to hide some unspeakable secret. William sat with one leg crossed over the other, carelessly playing on his phone at Eleanor’s funeral, muttering curses at his teammates. His loud, obnoxious voice disturbed Eleanor’s peace. In the past, Eleanor would have curbed his behavior, and his resentment, having been controlled by her since childhood, festered. He had wished for her early demise. Charlotte was unlike Eleanor. She never disciplined William; instead, she constantly flattered and pleased him, which William enjoyed, making him even more reckless. I walked up to him, snatched his phone, and smashed it on the ground. William shrieked, lunging at me. “Faith Ashworth, are you out of your mind! Why did you smash my phone!” I kicked him away and slapped him hard across the face. The commotion drew immediate attention. Charlotte quickly squeezed next to William, exclaiming, “Faith! What are you doing! William was just playing a game. Even if you dislike him, you shouldn’t take it out on him! William is the Ashworth heir, after all! If you have any grievances, take them out on me!” Charlotte shielded William, feigning nobility. She wiped away an imaginary tear. “I know you look down on me. I’m just a child Mommy recently found, so I didn’t receive a good education before, naturally, I can’t compare to Eleanor. But, Faith! You don’t have any blood relation to the Ashworths. How can you bully William?” Charlotte appeared delicate, but subtly mocked me as a mere adopted daughter, an outsider. I saw the hidden triumph in her eyes. I knew Charlotte was always like this. She loved to feel superior to me, satisfying her vanity. Those who came to mourn Eleanor heard Charlotte’s words and began to murmur, mostly siding with Charlotte. After all, the true heir had returned, and they had to play along, didn’t they? It wasn’t worth offending the true heir for an adopted daughter like me. Charlotte, hearing the crowd’s agreement, became even more smug, unable to hide the smile at the corner of her lips. So outwardly pleased, she couldn’t even compare to Eleanor. Her smugness made her tone towards me considerably worse. “Faith, since Eleanor is dead, there’s no need for you to stay at the Ashworths anymore. I think you should pack your bags and leave now, save us the trouble of seeing you!” Charlotte’s mouth kept going, and when she uttered those words, everyone fell silent. Even William, hiding behind her, stared wide-eyed, completely astonished. Charlotte, however, didn’t notice. I looked at her, like a clown, and couldn’t help but chuckle. I certainly wanted to leave the Ashworth family, but it was Arthur himself who had insisted I stay. The reason I had lived comfortably in the Ashworth family for so many years, with no one daring to touch me, was not without cause. How could Charlotte, a newly found heir, think she could step all over me? By dreaming? “Rare to see you so quiet? Usually, you’re quite sharp-tongued, aren’t you?” A teasing voice came from behind me. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. It was Sterling, the new head of the Sterling family. The Sterlings were a venerable, powerful family; the Ashworths barely registered in comparison. Sterling was quite fond of me. Arthur, desperate to cling to the Sterling family, had tried every possible way to keep me. Besides, could Arthur alone truly hold the Ashworth Group so firmly? Wasn’t it largely thanks to my assistance? Seeing I didn’t speak, Sterling dropped his jovial expression. He looked down at Charlotte, who stood in front of me. Honestly, Sterling was very handsome. Charlotte blushed, stepped forward, pushing me aside, and shyly extended her hand to Sterling. “Hello, sir, my name is Charlotte Ashworth, the daughter of the Ashworth family. May I have the honor of knowing your name?” I looked at the posturing Charlotte, feeling a slight amusement. Charlotte had only recently returned to the Ashworth family and hadn’t met many people in high society. It was natural she wouldn’t know that the young man in front of her was the head of the Sterling family. Sterling turned to Arthur, who stood behind him with a livid face, and said calmly, “Is this the Ashworth daughter? She truly lacks refinement.” Charlotte’s smile finally faltered. Arthur stepped forward and slapped her across the face. Despite Charlotte’s shocked expression, he still couldn’t help but speak up for her. “Charlotte has only recently returned; please don’t take offense.” When Eleanor was alive, if she made a mistake, she would never have gotten off with just a simple slap, let alone someone speaking up for her. Arthur was much kinder to Charlotte than to Eleanor. But Charlotte showed no gratitude. Her eyes red, she opened her mouth to argue with Arthur. Eleanor quickly covered her mouth, whispering a few comforting words, and Charlotte finally relented. Sterling winked at me, then followed Arthur to the back room. Seeing Arthur finally leave, Charlotte, her eyes red and full of rage, came up to me, looking as if she wanted to flay me alive. “You’re happy to see me make a fool of myself, aren’t you! Just you wait and see!” I didn’t expect Charlotte to take over Eleanor’s room after the funeral. Eleanor’s room wasn’t even half the size of Charlotte’s master bedroom, but Charlotte insisted on having all of Eleanor’s belongings thrown out. “It’s perfect; I need a study. Eleanor is dead anyway, so I’ll use her room. Keeping dead people’s things is bad luck, so I might as well throw everything out. Otherwise, it would just make me sad to look at them later.” I knelt on the floor, my hands trembling as I picked up a glass bottle Eleanor cherished. It was filled with beautiful fine sand. But now the glass jar was shattered, and the sand was scattered across the floor. She folded her arms and scoffed, “Yesterday, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have made a fool of myself in front of Sterling! I’m warning you, Sterling’s future wife will be me, and only me. What do you even think you are?” She finished speaking and walked away, arms crossed. I ignored her. I meticulously picked up Eleanor’s things from the floor. A housemaid nearby sighed, then, unable to bear it, knelt down to help me. I recognized her; she had practically raised Eleanor. The housemaid comforted me, “They’re both daughters, but when Miss Eleanor was young, Mrs. and Mr. barely cared for her. Why are they so concerned about her now?” She spoke indignantly on Eleanor’s behalf. I tightened my grip on a shard of glass and looked in the direction Charlotte had disappeared. She wouldn’t be smug for long. The rural couple who raised Charlotte, I discovered during my investigation, were distant cousins of Arthur. This couple had never ill-treated Charlotte since she was a child, but being rural folk, they harbored some ingrained patriarchal beliefs. Their only biological son recently started dating and was insistent on buying a house in the city to get married. However, a lifetime of savings for a rural couple wouldn’t even buy a city toilet, let alone a house. Seeing their prospective daughter-in-law about to slip away, the elderly couple fretted like ants on a hot pan. So, when I approached them under Charlotte’s name, they readily agreed to meet. The adoptive mother’s eyes sparkled as she confirmed with me, “Charlotte, that child, is actually the Ashworth heiress?!” Her adoptive father, smiling broadly, added, “That child lied to us, saying she was from an ordinary family! If she’s really an Ashworth, wouldn’t Charlotte be living a divine life, like on TV!” I nodded at them. “The Ashworth family has more money than they could spend in generations, and Charlotte, naturally, misses you very much.” The couple clapped their hands. “Since Charlotte is so rich now, and her brother is getting married soon, why don’t we go ask her for some money! After all, we spent a lot raising her! No matter what, she’s still our son’s sister!” I looked at the ecstatic couple before me, took a sip of tea, and concealed the smile on my lips. Human greed. While their words sounded good now, if they were to truly witness what a life of luxury entailed, they would undoubtedly cling to Charlotte forever, never wanting to leave. After dealing with Charlotte’s adoptive parents, I took a bouquet of flowers to Eleanor’s grave. Unexpectedly, I ran into Sterling there. He and I, rather than friends, were more like rivals. I had helped the Ashworth family snatch several projects from him, yet he showed no sign of anger. I didn’t believe in his magnanimity; after all, many families who offended him ended up bankrupt. He smiled when he saw me, then gestured. “I knew you’d come. Eleanor’s death was suspicious, so when her body was sent to the hospital, I secretly had an autopsy done, and I found some very interesting things. I brought them specially for you.” I remembered that the hospital Eleanor was sent to was owned by the Sterling family. Eleanor was cremated so quickly I had no time to examine her body. The words “missing heart” on the autopsy report were particularly jarring. I recalled that William, who suffered from congenital heart disease, hadn’t taken medication for a long time after Eleanor’s death. His originally pale complexion grew rosier by the day, looking nothing like someone with a chronic illness. Since childhood, Eleanor had undergone a full physical examination almost every month. And now, everything seemed to have an answer. My sister had been raised as an organ ‘donor’ for William. My breath suddenly hitched, and I almost collapsed. Sterling, seeing my distress, supported me. I bit my tongue, the metallic taste of blood bringing me back to my senses. I thanked him hoarsely. “Why are you helping me?” Honestly, Sterling and I weren’t particularly close. I didn’t believe anyone would do something at a loss. Sterling paused slightly, then spoke cautiously. “I just feel you resemble someone I know.” He touched my head, then placed his hand behind his back. “Perhaps I was mistaken.”

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Digging through a dumpster for scraps, a stream of comments suddenly popped into my vision: “Isn’t that the billionaire’s kidnapped daughter? Poor thing!” “Her dad’s loaded, but she can’t even get a decent meal. What a tragedy.” “Her father, that big villain, is about to off himself. Saying all this is useless; she’ll just keep suffering.” Huh? So, my dad’s rich, and if I find him, I won’t starve? Following the on-screen prompts, I sprinted to a lavish villa estate and pounded on the grand gate. The man who opened it had a shock of white hair, but his face—it was undeniably, strikingly similar to mine, at least an eighty percent match. “Dad! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” 1 The man was dressed in a sleek, black silk pajama set, impeccably tailored, making his frame look surprisingly trim. In one hand, he clutched a bottle of what looked like extremely expensive, unreadable vintage wine. In the other, a small white pill bottle. His gaze was utterly vacant, devoid of any emotion—no anger, no surprise, not even a flicker of recognition for my face, which was almost a mirror image of his. He simply stared down at the pill bottle. Beside him, the butler gasped, his face paling, and lunged to grab my arm. His voice dripped with disdain. “Where did this wild child come from? Do you have any idea where you are? Mr. Walsh is not someone you can just call ‘Dad’!” The butler’s grip was surprisingly strong, digging painfully into my arm. But I’d grown up wrestling street dogs for food in alleyways, so my own strength wasn’t to be underestimated. I clung to the ornate, cold iron gate, refusing to let go. “I’ll call him whatever I want! That’s my dad! I can tell! He looks exactly like me!” I shrieked, my voice raspy, terrified that if I didn’t shout loud enough, my rich father wouldn’t hear me. The butler, his face contorted with fury, snarled, “Call security! Drag this lunatic away!” Just then, another line of blood-red text flashed across my vision, punctuated by glaring exclamation points. “Mr. Walsh, the ‘Walsh Tyrant,’ is three minutes away from swallowing those sleeping pills. Today is the anniversary of his late wife’s death; he tries to die every year on this day.” “This butler is working for the wicked stepmother, deliberately trying to drive away the real daughter so Mr. Walsh dies, leaving the fake daughter to inherit everything.” “If this gate closes, Mr. Walsh is doomed.” My heart plummeted. Three minutes? My golden ticket, my long-term meal plan—was it about to vanish? I’d spent eighteen years scavenging, scrounging for scraps. Now that I finally had a rich dad, how could I let him die before I even got one good meal? Summoning a surge of desperate energy, I clamped my teeth onto the butler’s hand, biting down with the same ferocity I used to fend off street dogs. He yelped in pain, his grip loosening just enough. I squeezed through the gate, a tiny, determined ferret. Instead of rushing to embrace my supposed father, I bolted towards him at a full sprint. My target was clear: the pill bottle in his hand. “Dad! Don’t die! I haven’t even eaten yet!” I slammed into his chest. The pill bottle flew from his hand with a sharp clatter, white pills scattering across the polished marble steps, rolling into the grass, lost to sight. Mr. Walsh, the man I’d just addressed, staggered back two steps, the red wine sloshing from his bottle, dark crimson liquid staining his expensive pajamas. It was then, for the first time, that he truly looked at me. His brows were furrowed so tightly they looked etched in stone. “Who let her in?” His voice was cold, carrying the unmistakable weight of someone long accustomed to authority, making me instinctively shrink back. The butler, clutching his bleeding hand, rushed over, his face a mask of terror. “Mr. Walsh, I’ll have her thrown out immediately! This wild girl came out of nowhere.” “I’m not leaving!” I latched onto Mr. Walsh’s leg, pressing my face, streaked with days of snot and tears, against his expensive-looking trousers. What was dignity, anyway? Could it be eaten? “Dad, I’m Daisy! I’m really your daughter! I haven’t eaten in three days. Can’t you just let me have one full meal before you kick me out?” I tilted my head back, my grimy face staring up at him, forcing out a few more tears to make myself look even more pathetic. Mr. Walsh looked down at me, his foot, which had been poised to kick me away, suddenly frozen. His gaze locked onto my face, specifically my eyes. In those dead, vacant eyes, something violently stirred, something explosive bursting to life deep within them. The comments floated past again. “The resemblance! It’s uncanny! Those eyes are exactly like his late wife’s!” “The Walsh Tyrant is softening! He loved that woman more than anything. This little girl is saved!” I seized the moment, crying even louder, my voice cracking. “Daisy?” Mr. Walsh’s voice was no longer icy, but laced with a faint, almost disbelieving tremor. I paused. That name was given to me by the old beggar who found me. He said the tattered cloth I was wrapped in had a strange leaf embroidered on it, like a daisy petal, so he just called me Daisy. “Yes, I’m Daisy.” I answered honestly, calculating whether this name might earn me a meal. Mr. Walsh’s body swayed violently, his face turning incredibly pale. He reached out a trembling hand, as if to touch my face, but his fingertips stopped an inch away, as though my face was a fragile illusion that would shatter at a touch. He murmured, his voice so low it was almost inaudible, yet filled with pain: “…Evening Bloom, it’s our Daisy… did you send her back?” The butler’s face also changed; he’d clearly heard the words, and a flicker of panic crossed his eyes. Sure enough, Mr. Walsh didn’t move his foot. His hand, hanging at his side, clenched into a tight fist, knuckles white. Finally, he spoke, his voice cold, to the butler. “Take her in. Clean her up.” 2 This villa was huge, like one of those bewildering mazes I’d seen outside amusement parks. The chandeliers on the ceiling shone brighter than any stars in the sky. But I wasn’t in the mood to admire it. I sat at a long dining table that could easily seat twenty people, a steaming bowl of seafood porridge placed before me. Mr. Walsh’s butler, Mr. Peterson, stood nearby, his gaze dark and suspicious. Ignoring the heat, I grabbed the bowl and began to gulp it down. The warm porridge slid down my starved throat, a comforting heat chasing away the icy grip of hunger in my stomach. It was unbelievably delicious—succulent shrimp and scallops, a luxury I wouldn’t even dare to dream of. “Slow down. No one’s going to take it from you.” Mr. Walsh sat at the head of the table, dressed in fresh clothes. He held a glass of red wine, swirling it gently, but not drinking, simply watching me. I chewed on a shrimp, mumbling, “No one’s going to take it from me? In the slums, if you’re a second late, there won’t even be a bone left.” Mr. Walsh’s fingers, wrapped around the wine glass, paused. His eyes darkened, as if my words had pierced him. “You’re called Daisy,” he stated, not questioning, but confirming, “Who named you?” “The old beggar who found me. He said when he picked me up, there was a daisy leaf embroidered on my swaddling clothes, so he called me Daisy.” I licked the bottom of the bowl, still wanting more, looking at him. Mr. Walsh didn’t speak, merely set his wine glass down with a heavy, thudding sound. The sorrow in his eyes was so thick it seemed ready to overflow, as if my very presence were a knife twisting in his heart. “Give her another bowl.” Mr. Peterson walked over reluctantly. “Mr. Walsh, this girl’s background is unknown. Shouldn’t we investigate first?” “I told you to serve the porridge.” Mr. Walsh’s voice was low, uninflected. But Mr. Peterson visibly shivered, immediately shut his mouth, and obediently went to fetch more. Is this the aura of a powerful CEO? I thought, a flicker of envy. Once I settled in, I’d try to scare people like that too. As I was on my third bowl, the sharp click of high heels echoed from the doorway. “Brandon, I heard we have a guest?” Before she even appeared, her voice, sickly sweet, reached us, sending shivers down my spine. The comment section exploded. “The wicked stepmother is here! That’s Valerie Sterling, the culprit who stole and abandoned the little girl back then!” “The girl behind her is Chloe Walsh, the current ‘heiress.’ Those two have been sucking Mr. Walsh dry for years!” “Watch out, Daisy! This woman is ruthless!” I put down my bowl and wiped my mouth. Showtime. The battle was about to begin. A woman in a white designer suit walked in, impeccably maintained, looking barely past thirty. Behind her was a girl in a princess dress, around my age, rather delicate-looking, but her eyes regarded people as if they were vermin in a sewer. The moment Valerie saw me, her smile froze. In that instant, I clearly saw a flash of terror in her eyes. “Brandon, who is this?” Mr. Walsh leaned back in his chair, not even bothering to lift his eyelids. “Just a stray I picked up.” Valerie visibly relaxed, then replaced her expression with one of disdain, covering her nose with a handkerchief. “Picked up? Brandon, why are you bringing just anyone into the house? She’s so filthy, who knows what diseases she might carry?” Chloe chimed in, “Yes, Dad, look how she’s made the dining table all greasy. It’s disgusting.” I looked at the two of them, a cold smirk playing on my lips. Disgusting? Just wait. I’d show them truly disgusting. I intentionally let out a loud burp, then grinned at Chloe, revealing two rows of white teeth still flecked with green onion. “Big sister, your dress is so pretty. Is it real silk? Can I borrow it to wipe my hands?” As I spoke, I lunged towards her. Chloe shrieked, darting behind Valerie. “Mom! Look at her! She’s a lunatic!” Valerie shielded her daughter, snapping, “Mr. Peterson! Get this lunatic out of here at once!” Mr. Peterson had been waiting for that command. With a wave of his hand, several security guards moved in to surround me. I didn’t budge. I just looked at Mr. Walsh with a pathetic, puppy-dog expression. “Dad, I’m still hungry.” Mr. Walsh finally reacted. He lifted his head, his gaze sweeping coldly over Valerie and Chloe, finally landing on Mr. Peterson. “Since when did you make decisions in this house?” The security guards’ steps halted abruptly. Valerie’s face paled. She forced a strained smile. “Brandon, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just worried she might hurt Chloe.” “She came back with me.” Mr. Walsh stood up and walked over to me. He towered over me, his shadow falling across me with a palpable sense of intimidation. He reached out, his long fingers cupping my chin, turning my face from side to side. “Since she called me Dad, she’s part of the Walsh family. Anyone who dares to touch her is touching me.” At those words, a pin drop could have been heard in the dining room. Valerie’s nails dug into her palms, and Chloe’s eyes glowed red with jealousy. The comment section erupted in cheers. “Mr. Walsh, the Tyrant, is awesome! That protective dad vibe is amazing!” “Valerie must be furious. All her hard work over the years, and she’s losing to a random wild girl.” “Daisy, quick! Hug that golden thigh! That’s your shield from now on!” I didn’t hesitate, seizing the opportunity. I wrapped my arms around Mr. Walsh’s arm, rested my head on his shoulder, and stuck my tongue out at Valerie and Chloe. “Hear that? I’m a Walsh! From now on, I can eat as many bowls of porridge as I want!” Mr. Walsh’s body stiffened. He made to push me away, clearly disgusted. But I clung on for dear life. No way was I letting go of this golden ticket. 3 That night, I was settled into a guest room. The room was vast, far bigger than the drafty shack I used to live in. The bed was so soft it felt like sleeping on clouds; I thought I might sink right into it. But I couldn’t sleep. Not because I was unaccustomed to it, but because the comments kept scrolling wildly. “Don’t sleep! Someone’s coming tonight to steal your hair for a DNA test!” “Valerie will definitely switch the samples to make the results show you’re not related.” “Once Brandon Walsh thinks you’re a fraud, you’re done for!” I sat up in bed. Trying to switch samples? Not on my watch. I slipped out of the room barefoot, making my way to Brandon Walsh’s bedroom door. It wasn’t locked, just a crack ajar. I cautiously peered inside. Brandon wasn’t asleep. He sat on the sofa in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, holding a photo frame. Moonlight streamed onto him, making his strong back look heartbreakingly solitary. The comments floated by: “That’s a photo of his late wife, Eleanor Walsh. He looks at it every night.” “He was planning to kill himself tonight, but he postponed it because Daisy showed up.” A pang of unease shot through me. This man, who seemed invincible, was clearly a mess inside. I pushed the door open and walked in. Brandon whirled around, quickly flipping the photo frame face down on his lap. “Who let you in?” “Dad, I can’t sleep.” I hugged my pillow, walked to him, and plopped down on the carpet. “This bed is too soft, my back hurts. Can I just sleep on the floor here?” Brandon frowned deeply. “Go back to your own room.” “No.” I refused to budge, a tactic I’d learned from street hustlers. “I’m scared of the dark. What if some bad person comes in to steal my hair?” Brandon actually snorted, a hint of a smile touching his lips. “This is the Walsh estate. Where would a bad person come from?” “You never know. Some people look human on the outside, but you never know what they are on the inside.” I said, meaningfully. Brandon was silent for a moment, then didn’t try to send me away again. “Suit yourself.” He turned back to gaze at the moon outside the window, the lines of his profile sharp and cold in the moonlight. I spread my pillow and lay down at his feet. A while later, I heard him ask in a low voice, almost a whisper. “Do you… really think you’re my Daisy?” He wasn’t asking about my name, but something else entirely. It was a strange question, but I could feel the intense pain mixed with a fragile hope in his words. I rolled over and looked at his profile. “Whether I am or not, won’t we know after a test tomorrow? But I need to be there for the whole thing. No one’s going to switch my DNA sample.” Brandon looked down at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “What do you know?” “I know someone doesn’t want me to be your daughter.” I didn’t spell it out, but Brandon, a man who’d clawed his way to the top in the business world, would get the hint. He snorted. “In this house, whoever I want to be my daughter, is my daughter.” Powerful. That night, I slept soundly. In the hazy depths of sleep, I felt someone gently placing a blanket over me. The movement was soft, a little clumsy, as if they were afraid to wake me.

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The day my mother received her critical condition notice, I knelt before Cathy, my girlfriend of seven years, begging her to save my mom. Fifty dollars. It was barely the cost of one of Cathy’s fancy dinners. But at that moment, it was my mother’s life. After she refused, my forehead was bruised and bleeding from desperation. “I’ll do anything, Cathy, please! My mother is all I have left!” Cathy simply turned and walked away, not even sparing me a glance. Yet that very night, she spent three thousand dollars, showering her childhood friend, Ethan, with a thousand online ‘carnival’ gifts on his live stream, fueling his dream of becoming an internet celebrity. My mother passed away. I broke up with Cathy. Five years later, we met again at the grand opening of an exclusive luxury apartment complex. She was clinging to Ethan’s arm, looking down at me with disdain. “What? Five years later, have you fallen so far you’re selling real estate? Or are you deliberately waiting here, hoping to see me again?” “Forget it. Even if you knelt and begged me to come back now, I wouldn’t even bother looking at you.” But then my billionaire wife stood beside me, and Cathy exploded in a furious rant. “Adrian Winters! It’s only been five years since we broke up! How could you get married to someone else!” 1. I saw Cathy again at the grand opening of the Grandview Residences. Cathy was basking in the adoration of the crowd, clinging to Ethan Thorne’s arm. “Ms. Sedgwick is here today? I assume you’re picking out a home for yourself and your fiancé?” “Is this your fiancé, Ms. Sedgwick? He’s so handsome! I hear you two are childhood sweethearts. Truly a match made in heaven.” “This is a top-tier development by the renowned Bright Group from Emerald City. Only a luxury home in such a prime location is fitting for Ms. Sedgwick and her fiancé.” Cathy chuckled softly, covering her mouth with her hand. “Thank you, everyone. Please do grace us with your presence at our wedding.” I stood not far from them, observing the pair surrounded by the eager crowd with a cold gaze. The Grandview Residences was a development by my wife, Maya Bright. Maya had returned to Emerald City for some business a few days ago, so I was here to oversee the grand opening for her. Just then, my eyes met Cathy’s. She hesitated for a moment, then let out a small laugh and walked towards me, still clinging to Ethan. “I thought I’d mistaken you for someone else. But it really is you, Adrian Winters.” “What? Five years on, you realize you still can’t forget me, so you came here specifically to wait for me?” I was about to shake my head and deny it, but Cathy scoffed again. “The cheapest apartment at Grandview Residences costs five million dollars. You’re not going to tell me you’re here to buy a place, are you?” The sycophantic crowd that had been fawning over Cathy followed her, their expressions turning curious as they looked at me. “Ms. Sedgwick, who is this gentleman?” Cathy shot me a cold glance, then looked away without speaking. But Ethan spoke up then. “I don’t think you all know him, do you?” He paused for dramatic effect. “This is Mr. Adrian Winters. He’s the son of Cathy’s family’s former housekeeper. No one important, really. Nothing to worry about.” Cathy sneered. “Why even bother introducing him to everyone? Is he even worth it?” Cathy’s voice was icy, her disdain and revulsion undisguised. It was the exact same tone she’d used five years ago when she accused me of only wanting her money. Five years ago, my mother lay on the operating table, clinging to life, waiting for money to save her. I knelt before Cathy, my forehead bruised and bleeding. Cathy had looked at me with that same contemptuous gaze. “Ethan told me, and I didn’t believe it at first. But you really were with me just for my money.” “Adrian Winters, Adrian Winters, to stoop so low for a measly fifty dollars, I really underestimated you.” “Tell me, why are you so materialistic, so impatient? It disgusts me.” My thoughts were interrupted by a middle-aged couple by the display models. “Where’s the sales agent? Come tell us about this apartment.” My mind snapped back to the present. I couldn’t be bothered with Cathy and Ethan anymore. I walked directly to the couple. “Hello, do you have any questions about the property? I can answer them for you.” 2. The Grandview Residences was the most exclusive and sought-after property in the city. Whether people were there to buy a home or simply to rub shoulders with Maya Bright, the sales hall was packed. The sales agents were overwhelmed, and some potential clients were inevitably overlooked. After I answered a few questions for the middle-aged couple, they nodded in satisfaction and moved on to look at other properties. Just then, Cathy’s cold sneer echoed in my ears again. “Adrian Winters, after all these years, you still haven’t amounted to anything. Have you really fallen so low that you’re selling houses?” “You were a top student at the Academy of Finance back then. What kind of career is selling real estate? Are you really so content to waste your potential?” I glanced at Cathy. “I’m not a sales agent. I’m…” Before I could finish, Ethan wrapped an arm around Cathy’s waist, a dazzling, mocking smile on his face, cutting me off. “Cathy, don’t you know Adrian? He’s much smarter than you or I. How could he simply be here to sell houses?” “Grandview Residences is prime real estate, a gold mine. Look at the people who are here today.” “Adrian, Adrian, I can’t believe after all these years, you’re still dreaming of being a kept man.” I was tired of their endless taunts. I looked at them with a cold, unyielding gaze. “Kindly put an end to your sordid speculations. I find them repulsive.” I turned to walk away, but Cathy blocked my path. “Running away because we hit a nerve? Adrian Winters, five years, and you’re still the same. Is money truly so important to you?” “Don’t you feel ridiculous, trying to worm your way in here like this?” Ethan walked up to me, smiling. “You didn’t happen to hear that Cathy was coming today, and decided to wait here for her, did you?” “It’s been five years. Are you still pining for Cathy? If your feelings for her were so deep, why did you break up with her over fifty dollars back then?” “Or have you not found anyone better than Cathy in these five years, and now you want her back? You’re not trying to make Cathy your backup, are you?” “It’s okay, Adrian. What happened back then is in the past. Cathy and I are getting married soon. We’ll invite you to the wedding.” Hearing Ethan’s words, Cathy’s face clouded with anger. Her voice was even sharper than before. “What? You broke up with me over fifty dollars, then went off living like a playboy for five years, and now you’ve realized I was the best for you?” “Adrian Winters, Adrian Winters, you truly never change. In your eyes, there’s nothing but money.” “Alright, now get lost! Don’t stand there and annoy us!” Cathy gestured to her assistant, who quickly handed her a bank card. Cathy flung it hard at my face. The card clattered to the floor with a sharp sound. “This card has two hundred dollars on it. It’s not a small sum for you, so you won’t leave empty-handed today.” “Now, take the money and scram. Stop wasting your energy on me.” “Ethan’s right. People like you, with nothing but money on their minds, we’re simply not on the same level.” 3. I stared at the bank card on the floor. Although I had long since lost all affection for Cathy, a wave of baseless sorrow washed over me. Five years ago, I was Cathy’s boyfriend of seven years. Ethan was her childhood friend. But when my mother was on her deathbed, Cathy wouldn’t even lend me fifty dollars. Fifty dollars wasn’t a small amount to me. But for Cathy Sedgwick, the only daughter of the powerful Sedgwick family, it was nothing more than the cost of a single bottle of wine. She refused to lend me fifty dollars, but that very night, she spent three thousand dollars, showering a thousand ‘carnival’ gifts on Ethan, who dreamed of becoming an internet celebrity. Five years later, Ethan wore a seven-figure watch and drove a ten-million-dollar sports car. And she, Cathy, tossed me two hundred dollars with a disdainful air of charity. How utterly ridiculous. I looked up, meeting Cathy’s eyes, and let out a cold laugh. “Do I look like I’m short on money?” Cathy glanced at me, her eyes sweeping over me as if I were a pile of trash. “Not short on money? If you’re not short on money, why are you selling houses? If you’re not short on money, why are you slumming it here today, trying to hook up with some old rich woman?” “Adrian Winters, Adrian Winters, you’re just as stubborn as you were five years ago. You claimed you weren’t after my money, yet you broke up with me over fifty dollars. It’s disgusting.” I couldn’t be bothered to argue with her any further. “Cathy, where do you get the confidence to think I’d still be pining for a woman like you?” “I’ve been married for three years. This is my wife’s development. I’m simply here to check on things today.” “You’re nothing but a clown. What right do you have to speak to me like this?” Maya was due back today. Calculating the time, she should be arriving soon. Given Maya’s jealous nature, if I continued to get tangled up with Cathy, I’d be in for a rough night. My words were blunt, and Cathy’s chest heaved with anger. The surrounding crowd, however, erupted in a loud burst of laughter. “Hahahaha, what is this lunatic talking about? His wife’s development? Does he even know who the developer of this property is?” “This is Ms. Bright’s development! Ms. Bright is a force to be reckoned with, a powerful figure in Emerald City! A single word from her could turn the city upside down. How dare he say such a thing?” “We’re here today buying houses precisely because we want to connect with Ms. Bright, aren’t we? For him to bluster like this, it’s truly laughable.” Ethan quickly patted Cathy’s back, trying to comfort her. “It’s okay, Cathy. I know you’re kind enough to offer Adrian money, but maybe Adrian is telling the truth. Perhaps he genuinely isn’t short on money now.” “Look at the clothes he’s wearing. There are no labels, but they clearly look like they’re made by a top Italian tailor. He must indeed be doing quite well for himself.” “You don’t always have to think about helping him. He probably has his own connections now. Don’t worry so much.” Hearing Ethan’s words, Cathy’s expression abruptly darkened, her voice even lower than before. “Adrian Winters, have you really latched onto an older woman? Ha, it seems your little tricks do work sometimes. You actually managed to snag a sugar mommy.” “Alright, I’ll let bygones be bygones. If you want to be a kept man, then be mine.” “Serving me would surely be a better choice than serving those old women, wouldn’t it?” Ethan’s face immediately turned grim. I was content to watch them tear each other apart. I cast a sidelong glance at Cathy. “Oh? What’s this, Ms. Sedgwick? Are you still pining for me?” “Well, I suppose it’s natural. We were together for several years, so it’s understandable that you’d still think of me.” The moment my words left my lips, a flicker of embarrassment crossed Cathy’s eyes. My heart gave a start. Had I hit the nail on the head? For a moment, I didn’t know how to react. Suddenly, my thoughts were pulled back twelve years, to when I was eighteen. On my eighteenth birthday, Cathy stood before me, her cheeks flushed with shyness. “Adrian, I like you.” “I promise I’ll always be good to you.” The young girl’s eyes were resolute, as if all the stars in the sky had fallen into them, shining with an almost terrifying intensity. In that instant, my heart softened completely. As if by some strange impulse, I nodded, and we began our relationship. Looking at the crowd before me, I felt a dizzying sense of overwhelm. “I need to use the restroom.” Ethan quickly chimed in. “Perfect, I need to go too. I’ll go with Adrian.” The restroom was public, so I couldn’t stop Ethan. I didn’t object. It was just a trip to the restroom; surely nothing would happen. Ethan left the restroom shortly after he arrived. I paid no mind, simply washed my hands and walked out. But as I reached the restroom door, the commotion outside caught my attention. “This Adrian Winters, how can he be so light-fingered? Mr. Thorne kindly invited him to the restroom, and he actually stole Mr. Thorne’s watch!”

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The new intern Lily White called herself a “clumsy beauty.” She shredded my bonus check from my fiancé Arthur, then teased, “Oops, I’m so silly—you won’t be mad, right?” At the company gala, she “tripped” naked into his arms. “This goofball can’t even walk yet—isn’t that awful?” Her team suffered constant blame. Every time a project was nearly done, she’d “accidentally” delete it all. In my past life, I fired her, but Arthur kept her as his assistant, accusing me of being harsh. The day we planned our wedding, she stopped my car, crying that she and Arthur were soulmates. I told her to leave—then she staged a runaway act and got kidnapped. Later, when I was pregnant, Arthur cut me open, saying I owed his “goofball.” I woke up again, avoiding the street where I first met Lily. Arthur’s grandfather had decreed: marry me, inherit the company. Now, with nothing left, I’ll watch how he protects his darling fool. … The smile on Mrs. Caldwell’s face faded when Arthur didn’t arrive with me, but instead brought an unfamiliar woman. “Arthur, family dinners are for family only. Who is this?” Arthur’s gaze swept over me, not lingering. “This is my assistant. We just finished a meeting, and she had nowhere to go, so I thought she could join us for a casual meal.” “Eva, you don’t mind, do you?” I smiled. “Not at all.” “If you don’t mind, why should I?” A “strategist,” isn’t she supposed to win over everyone important in his life? Mrs. Caldwell was a crucial piece of that puzzle. I was eager to see how she’d play her hand today. Seeing the room filled with elite relatives, Lily White, as the housekeeper prepared to serve tea, eagerly volunteered. “Auntie, I know a super pretty fancy way to pour tea! It makes the tea smell extra fragrant!” Mrs. Caldwell frowned but, out of deference to Arthur’s presence, said nothing. I watched silently as Lily picked up the porcelain teapot. Her wrist, clumsy, spun the pot three times in place, then, as if possessed, she half-stumbled, half-ran diagonally towards Mrs. Caldwell. Scalding hot tea splashed all over her. “Ah—!” Mrs. Caldwell cried out, jumping from her chair, burned. Lily, utterly terrified, flung her hand back. The teapot flew, precisely smashing a Ming Dynasty Five-Color Porcelain Vase on the antique shelf. It was Mr. Caldwell’s most cherished antique, a priceless treasure. Lily stuck out her tongue innocently at Arthur. “This teapot was just too slippery! It was bullying this little goofball!” I almost burst out laughing. In this life and the last, her idiocy always managed to redefine my expectations. However, I didn’t laugh, but someone else felt pity. Arthur completely ignored his scalded mother, anxiously grabbing Lily’s hand and blowing on her slightly reddened fingers. I was holding a damp cloth, kneeling to wipe the tea stains from Mrs. Caldwell’s dress. His roar, without warning, hit me. “Eva Carter!” “You were closest! Why couldn’t you catch the teapot? Are you a statue?!” “Now Lily’s hand is all red and burned too!” Mrs. Caldwell, hearing this, trembled with rage. “Arthur! I was the one scalded! And let me remind you!” “That was your father’s favorite vase! Either conjure up an identical one, or start figuring out how you’re going to beg your father for mercy on your knees!” Mrs. Caldwell’s words were heavy, outwardly scolding her son, but every syllable was a slap in Lily White’s face. Yet Lily, oblivious, failed to grasp that Mrs. Caldwell was reprimanding her, and instead defiantly shouted back at her. “Auntie, how can you talk about Arthur like that!” “It’s just a vase! If it breaks, it breaks! Are you blind, not knowing how to cherish the people around you?” The guests were silent, barely breathing, terrified of becoming collateral damage. Someone dared to stand on the Caldwell family’s turf, Gotham City’s wealthiest tycoon, and accuse his matriarch of being blind. Just as the tension reached a breaking point, a gentle, elderly voice drifted down from the second floor. “What’s all this commotion? Everyone standing around, such a lively scene.” Grandpa Caldwell, dressed in a traditional silk robe, leaning on a cane, descended with a cheerful smile. Mrs. Caldwell, seeing her father-in-law, swallowed her anger, forcing a smile onto her face. “Father, you’re here.” Arthur also reined in his cold expression, respectfully greeting him. “Grandpa.” Lily’s eyes lit up. She immediately pulled free from Arthur’s hand, skipping over to Grandpa Caldwell. She pulled out several bags of colorful items and offered them to him. “Hello, Grandpa! My name is Lily White, Arthur’s assistant! Nice to meet you! This is my gift for you!” I took a closer look, barely managing to keep a straight face. Five bags of gummy bears. Arthur’s face instantly darkened. He lowered his voice. “Where’s the ‘Whispering Pines’ scroll I told you to bring?” Lily puffed out her chest, self-righteously. “I sold it!” “That painting of yours was so dull and ugly! The boss at the antique market only gave me twenty dollars!” “Look at my gummy bears, they’re colorful and full of fruit! They cost me twenty-five dollars, and I even paid an extra five! Grandpa’s an elderly person; eating more fruit is good for your health!” I lowered my eyes, using the act of sipping tea to hide the corners of my mouth, which were dangerously close to my ears. That “Whispering Pines” scroll was an authentic masterpiece by Master Lin Feng from a previous dynasty, fetching a staggering thirty million dollars at auction just three years ago. Twenty dollars… sold… Grandpa Caldwell’s smile visibly stiffened, but he maintained his composure, graciously accepting the gift. “Very good, very good, you’re thoughtful, a good child.” He waved his hand, beckoning everyone. “Don’t just stand there, sit down, dinner’s about to be served.” The atmosphere finally eased, and everyone took their seats. But Lily, restless, pulled out a yellow charm paper from her pocket. With a solemn air, she circled Grandpa Caldwell three times to the left, then three times to the right, muttering incantations. Finally, she lit the charm paper, dropped the burning ashes into Grandpa Caldwell’s teacup, and stirred it with her finger. “Grandpa, this is a special good luck charm I got for you! Drink it, and it will cure all your ailments and grant you a long life!” She lifted the murky cup, about to force it into Grandpa Caldwell’s mouth. Even Arthur couldn’t stand it anymore. He yanked Lily back. “What are you doing?!” Lily blinked innocently. “Old people all believe in superstitions! This way I can win Grandpa’s favor! Aren’t I brilliant!” Seeing her like this, Arthur swallowed back the harsh words, his face grim as he apologized to his grandfather. “Grandpa, I’m sorry, she… she means well, but her methods are a little… misguided.” I let out a soft chuckle, lifting my own teacup. “Quite misguided, indeed.” “Grandpa spent fifty years researching aeronautical dynamics at the National Academy of Sciences; he detests anything to do with superstitious beliefs.” As my words fell, Grandpa Caldwell’s expression grew even more somber. He cast a cold glance at Arthur, then at Lily behind him, but said nothing. Just as the atmosphere threatened to plunge back into icy silence, I chose that opportune moment to have a housekeeper present the gift I had prepared. “Grandpa, knowing your appreciation for the works of Elder Zheng, I spent a long time collecting this complete set of ancient Greek philosopher’s dialogues. I hope you like it.” Grandpa Caldwell’s face, seeing the rare collection, brightened, his earlier gloom completely erased, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Oh, Eva, my dear, you’re too thoughtful!” “Today is the day you and Arthur set your wedding date; you shouldn’t have gone to such expense.” I smiled openly, my voice clear and bright. “Seeing you happy, Grandpa, is the best omen for today.” Mrs. Caldwell’s expression finally softened. She clapped her hands, instructing a housekeeper to open several bottles of wine. “Come, come! Let’s celebrate! I’ve brought out some of my cherished Vintage Chateau Margaux! Good days deserve good wine!” The atmosphere rekindled, everyone raising their glasses. But the moment the wine touched their lips, everyone’s expressions turned indescribably strange. The usually rich and smooth wine now carried a cheap, sickly sweet taste. Lily, seeing this, immediately popped up, eager for praise. “I added Sprite! Isn’t it sweeter and yummier now?!” “You guys must like me even more now, right? My favor points should be soaring!” Mrs. Caldwell clenched the stem of her wine glass, almost shattering it. This was wine she had bought at a high price, and before she could even taste a sip, Lily had ruined it all! She could no longer restrain herself, pointing at Lily and roaring at Arthur. “Arthur Caldwell! Get this woman out of my house! Now! Immediately!” “On such an important day, you bring this trashy, inappropriate person back to cause trouble!” “If you still consider me your mother, get her out right this instant!” Two well-trained security guards immediately entered from outside, their faces expressionless, and headed towards Lily. Just as she was about to be escorted out, Lily clutched her stomach and collapsed to the floor. “Oh, my tummy! The Caldwell family’s heir is going to be scared away!” She wailed hysterically. Arthur instantly rushed forward, shielding Lily tightly in his arms, his eyes bloodshot as he screamed at everyone. “Who dares touch her!” “She’s carrying my child!” One sentence, a double explosion. I was his fiancée, and today was supposed to be the day we set our wedding date. Yet, he announced, in front of all our relatives, that another woman was carrying his child. Several cousins stopped eating, simply staring, glued to the drama. “You… you…” Facing the questioning stares, Lily, protected in Arthur’s embrace, straightened up. “What are you looking at!” “What do you mortals understand!” “I’m the chosen strategist! The system told me that if you just listen to me, I can lead you all to financial freedom!” She jutted out her chin, looking utterly proud. The Caldwell relatives exchanged glances, their expressions a kaleidoscope of emotions. Financial freedom? The Caldwell family had already stood at the pinnacle of wealth twenty years ago. They needed this wild girl, who appeared out of nowhere, to lead them? Crazy. Arthur’s face was also strained, but he still stood firmly in front of Lily. “Mom! Lily’s just too naive; that’s why she says such silly things!” “Her heart is truly for the Caldwell family’s good! Why can’t you be more understanding of her innocent spirit?” “Innocent spirit?” Mrs. Caldwell scoffed. “I see a wolf’s ambition!” “Arthur Caldwell, do you even know what day today is!” Grandpa Caldwell could finally tolerate no more, striking his cane heavily on the floor. “Nonsense!” “Bringing such an ambiguous woman back, are you trampling on my dignity, or Eva’s dignity?!” The other relatives quickly chimed in. “Exactly, Arthur, you’re utterly out of line!” “Eva is such a wonderful girl; how will she face people after what you’ve done?” “Is she worth all this, for such a deranged woman?” Accusations flooded Arthur like a tide. He retreated, his face pale with fury. He looked up at me, then changed tack. “You say Lily is bad, you say I’m blind!” “Then ask Eva! She hasn’t said a word, so what right do you have to speak for her?!” Instantly, all eyes turned back to me. I immediately dropped my spectator’s grin, my wide smile quickly contracting, restoring the dignified demeanor befitting a lady of good standing. I set down my teacup and slowly rose, my gaze calmly settling on Lily. “You want me to disappear, to make way for you?” “Fine.” I paused, staring at Lily. “Give me everything you own in exchange.” Lily froze, seemingly caught off guard by my demand. Arthur, however, immediately frowned. “Eva Carter! She’s just a freshly graduated intern, she has nothing!” “Asking her for money, aren’t you trying to ruin her?!” Lily lowered her head, counting on her fingers, muttering to herself, “Three times one is three, three times two is eight, March 8th is International Women’s Day… anyway, as Mrs. Caldwell, I’ll have tons of money! It’s a bargain!” She pulled out her phone, and I immediately received thirty-nine payment notifications. All together, they totaled eight hundred eighty-six dollars and sixty cents. Quite auspicious, actually. “Take this measly money, I’m gifting it to you!” “From now on, Arthur is mine! You evil ex-wife, get out of our sight!” I took out my phone and replayed the recording of what she had just said. “I’ve got the evidence. Don’t come crying back to me later, even if you regret it.” Arthur pulled Lily even closer. “Eva Carter, I never realized you were so disgusting.” “You greedy woman, taking even eight hundred dollars from her. You’ve truly scraped the bottom of my barrel.” He paused, his voice turning cold. “You can leave now!” “Bang—!” A loud crash, making everyone jump. Grandpa Caldwell, shaking with rage, slammed his cane on the table, knocking over a wine bottle that shattered on the floor. “Who is leaving?” “Arthur Caldwell! Since you’ve chosen this fool, from today onward, you are banished from the Caldwell family!” Arthur froze, looking at his grandfather in shock. “Grandpa, do you know what you’re saying?” “I’m your grandson! And Lily’s carrying our Caldwell heir!” “What is Eva? At best, she’s a sponsored stray dog! You’re kicking me out for an outsider?” “Outsider?” Grandpa Caldwell scoffed. “Let me tell you, Eva Carter is not an outsider! And the Caldwell family does not need a brain-dead heir!” The assembled relatives dared not breathe, all looking down, pretending to inspect their plates. Arthur’s lips moved a few times, as if he wanted to argue, But meeting his grandfather’s resolute eyes, all words caught in his throat. Finally, he said nothing, pulling the still-giggling Lily along, and turned to leave. At the doorway, he paused, turning his head to glare at me. He spoke in what he thought was a low voice, gently comforting Lily. “Don’t worry, Lily, Grandpa is just having a hard time accepting this right now.” “Once our baby is born, and they see such a cute grandchild, their hearts will soften, and everything will be fine.” Hearing this, I couldn’t help but lower my head and chuckle. Wait for the baby to be born? Ha, too late! Arthur didn’t know. Within seven days, Caldwell Holdings would officially be renamed Carter Industries.

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I was a man of immense wealth, with a trust fund in the tens of billions. Money was the only thing I had left. Almost the entire city was under my ownership, including the tranquil retreat where my wife, Anna Hayes, resided. In my past life, Anna claimed she was a celestial maiden reincarnated, unfit for the company of men. She even demanded I undergo a vasectomy, and I, besotted, complied. Decades passed. When I was old, my hair white, and gravely ill, she stood over me. With her lover Sterling’s daughter and granddaughter by her side, she slowly, deliberately, pulled my oxygen tube. “Sterling dedicated his life to raising our children for me, yet he always had to remain in the shadows. All of this, Simon, is because of you.” Her voice was cold, devoid of emotion. “I’ve grown tired of being your wife. All of your fortune, after you die, will belong to Sterling and our children.” Then, I opened my eyes. I was back. Back to the day my father, on his deathbed, instructed me to draw lots for my future bride. Now, I would watch. Without my bottomless pockets, could Anna Hayes still so serenely play her part as the celestial maiden? 1. My father lay on his deathbed, his voice weak but firm. “After I’m gone, only your wife and children will be by your side. That’s why the marriage lottery list is full of suitable young women from prominent families. You cannot be reckless this time, Simon.” In my past life, everyone knew I, Simon McKinnon, was my father’s only son, heir to billions, and notoriously uninterested in business. Every family wanted their daughter to marry into the McKinnon fortune. Matchmakers practically wore a path to our door, so my father devised the marriage lottery. But I, in my foolish infatuation, fell for the seemingly gentle and virtuous Anna Hayes. Without my father’s knowledge, I secretly added her name to the list. Now, knowing my father had only thirty minutes left, I choked back my tears. “Dad, I have someone I like, but it’s not Anna. She won’t care about our family’s money, and she’ll be good to me.” I swallowed hard. “So, I’ve decided to cancel the marriage lottery.” My father’s dim eyes suddenly flickered with a spark of light. “You’ve grown up, Simon. Do as you wish. I can finally rest and join your mother.” With those words, he closed his eyes. The news of his passing spread quickly. Soon after, I received a message from her. “Are you alright?” Remembering everything she did for me in my past life, I impulsively typed a reply: “No. I’m waiting for you to come back and marry me.” After that, I received no more messages from her. At my father’s funeral, Anna Hayes wasted no time making demands. “I am the reincarnation of a celestial maiden, Simon. I cannot be touched by worldly desires, especially not a man’s. If you marry me, you must remain celibate for life and undergo a vasectomy. It’s the only way to show the world my devotion to spiritual studies.” Seeing Anna’s haughty expression, I couldn’t help but ache for the fool I was in my past life. She claimed to love the tranquility of a temple, so I invested millions to build a grand Zen retreat for her. She spoke of ancient scriptures, and I spent a fortune lighting ceremonial lamps and acquiring priceless historical texts. I even funded a media company to promote her image as a “celestial maiden,” making her a household name. And what did she do in return? While I grieved my father’s death, she was secretly with her lover, Sterling Fumero, using my money to buy him luxury watches and sports cars. She even bore his child behind my back while I was away on business. The memories of my past life’s betrayal surged, and I barely suppressed a furious urge to throw her out. “You’re dreaming,” I said, my voice cold. “I have no intention of marrying you. You’re not welcome here. Leave.” Anna remained unperturbed, instead lecturing me. “Simon McKinnon, everyone dies eventually. Your father is dead, so what? Is there any need for such grief? I dislike your tone when you speak to me.” “As a celestial maiden’s partner, one must be detached from life and death. The money spent on your father’s funeral alone could gild a statue of Buddha. If you ask me, mixing your father’s ashes into fertilizer would be a far greater act of merit.” If I hadn’t been reborn, I might have believed her outrageous lies. Anna wasn’t a celestial maiden. She was a greedy, worthless parasite, and every penny she asked for was used to buy lavish mansions abroad. “Simon, I think Anna is right. Once old people are gone, they’re no better than fertilizer. You’re being far too extravagant.” I turned to see Sterling Fumero approaching, draped in a monk’s robe, affecting an air of false piety. I had planned to deal with Anna and Sterling after the funeral. But it seemed they were eager to walk straight into their own humiliation. In my past life, Sterling had posed as a devoted follower of Anna’s teachings, feigning friendship with me. He’d moved into my house after my father’s death, claiming to offer spiritual comfort, when in reality it was to facilitate his affair with Anna. He stole my luxury watches and cars while I was away, selling them for profit. He even drugged my food with hormones, weakening me and driving me into depression. “How my father’s funeral is handled is none of your business.” Sterling ignored my sharp retort, simply assuming I was upset about my father. “Simon, why don’t I move in with you? I can chant scriptures for you. Believe me, a house where someone has died is full of bad energy. Only a pure soul like me wouldn’t mind.” My face was a stone mask. “The only bad energy here comes from the two of you.” Seeing my unyielding attitude, Sterling adopted a wounded, humble expression. “Anna, I don’t know what I’ve done to offend Simon.” Anna’s brow furrowed in concern. She clearly felt sympathy for him. “Simon McKinnon, apologize!” Sterling continued to play the victim. “It’s alright, Anna.” He then reached out to pat my shoulder. In my past life, at my father’s funeral, I’d nearly suffocated from a severe pollen allergy. It had to have been Sterling’s doing. If I died, he would be free to be with Anna. I seized his wrist, and sure enough, found pollen dust hidden under his fingernails. “I have a severe pollen allergy, and you’re carrying pollen under your fingernails. Are you trying to kill me? A devout follower of the Buddha, so malicious?” Sterling was momentarily speechless, then stammered defensively. “I didn’t! It was an accident! I don’t even eat meat, how could I harm anyone? Anna, help me!” Anna interceded immediately. “Simon McKinnon, Sterling has explained himself. Release him at once.” I sneered, my gaze falling on the diamond watch on Sterling’s wrist. “The pollen was an ‘accident,’ but where did this diamond watch come from? It was my mother’s. Sterling Fumero, you’ve got nerve, stealing something worth a fortune. One word from me, and you’ll spend the rest of your life in prison!” Sterling’s face went white. He shot a panicked look at Anna. Anna showed no hint of remorse, speaking loudly and defiantly. “I gave him that watch! Sterling diligently studies spiritual teachings, and I rewarded his hard work. What’s wrong with that? Your possessions are my possessions. I know you dream of marrying me. Your property is my property, and I have every right to dispose of it!” I ripped the diamond watch from his wrist. “Then let me formally inform you, I no longer want you. You will receive no further assistance from the McKinnon family. Now take your lover and get out!” Sterling looked heartbroken at the loss of the watch. Anna’s face was beet red with fury. “What nonsense are you spouting? How dare you tarnish my relationship with Sterling! Lover? He is merely my devoted follower.” She then changed tack, her voice regaining a condescending tone. “Simon McKinnon, out of pity for you being an orphan, I’ll overlook this. Go home and copy ten sutras. Bring them to me tomorrow morning for inspection. Otherwise, I won’t come to the marriage lottery, much less marry you.” After causing a scene at my father’s funeral, the two of them left. Once I had dealt with all the funeral arrangements, I called my secretary. “Ethan, cut off all of Anna Hayes’s credit cards.” The next morning, I began my rounds, inspecting the company’s department stores, stabilizing morale. Not far away, in a high-end boutique, Anna and Sterling were shopping. “Darling, I like this one, and this one too,” Sterling cooed. Anna, indulging him, said, “This entire mall is ours, my love. Buy whatever you desire.” She handed her bank card to the sales assistant. A moment later, the assistant returned. “Madam Hayes, your card has been frozen.” Anna’s smug expression instantly twisted into one of mortified embarrassment. “Impossible! My card has an unlimited limit! You must have made a mistake.” The assistant re-swiped it in front of her. The computer screen clearly displayed “FROZEN.” Sterling whispered, “Did you tell Simon you wouldn’t attend the marriage lottery? Is this his way of putting pressure on you?” Just as he finished speaking, Anna spotted me. She marched towards me, her face contorted with accusation. “Simon McKinnon, I told you to copy ten sutras as penance, and I would consider forgiving you. But you just keep making mistakes.” “You’re resorting to such low-brow tactics as freezing my bank account, just to force me to marry you!” I chuckled. Who gave her this incredible self-confidence? “Copying sutras as penance? Does Buddha know you’re buying a hundred thousand dollar limited edition watch for your lover? How many sutras would you need to copy for that? You’re just a fake celestial maiden, a real gold-digger.” Without warning, Anna’s hand swung, slapping me across the face. “You’re just trying to make a scene! All you want is to force me to marry you! I told you I’m a celestial maiden, I can’t be touched by men, I can’t even have children! Agreeing to be with you all these years was an act of charity and pity!” I was about to retaliate when a crowd of reporters swarmed us. “Mr. McKinnon, are these intimate photos of you?” “Is it true you sent these private photos to seduce the celestial maiden?” Ignoring the stinging pain on my face, I quickly examined the photos the reporters thrust at me. At first, I was momentarily confused, but then I realized I had never taken such explicit photos. Then I saw Sterling Fumero’s smug grin. Was this his revenge for the diamond watch? Sterling stepped forward, feigning concern, but his words were meant to pour fuel on the fire. “Everyone, please don’t spread these photos. These are Simon’s private matters.” His statement indirectly confirmed that the person in the photos was me. The reporters immediately turned their microphones towards him. “It seems you’re an insider. Tell us, does Simon McKinnon truly have strange fetishes, craving women so desperately he needs three a night when he can’t have the celestial maiden?” “And the internet says Simon McKinnon often abuses you. Is that true?” Sterling immediately adopted the posture of a victim. “Please, don’t ask me anymore. Simon warned me not to speak out, otherwise I’d…” He trailed off, looking at me with feigned terror. “Simon, did I say something wrong? Please, I beg you, don’t hold my head underwater again, don’t stick needles in my fingers!” He then began slapping himself in the face in front of the horrified journalists. Sterling’s performance was disturbingly convincing. The reporters’ eyes turned to me, filled with disgust. “These wealthy elites truly treat people like dirt.” “He’s inhumane! Someone like this should be exposed!” I tried to calm them. “Sterling is spreading rumors. Everyone, please calm down. The photos are fake.” Seeing my earnest expression and sincere tone, the reporters’ anger subsided slightly. But then Anna stepped forward. “He did try to seduce me. And he even snatched Sterling’s watch. If a man like this takes over the McKinnon family, it will surely crumble.” With her words, the reporters’ last shred of doubt vanished. That night, multiple media outlets ran stories about me. The internet erupted. My personal information was doxxed, my phone bombarded with hate messages and threats. Obscene deepfake videos of me circulated on obscure websites. Even my mail was ripped open and vandalized. My company’s stock plummeted, losing hundreds of millions in just a few days. This was mere pocket change to me, but I was burning with fury at Anna and Sterling for their underhanded tactics. I discussed a counter-strategy with my company’s legal and PR teams. It was past ten when I finally returned home. “Just getting back now? Do you have any idea how bad your reputation is?” Anna was sitting on my sofa, speaking to me as if she were the owner and I, the dog. I was about to ask how she got in when I remembered: I hadn’t changed the fingerprint lock yet. “Get out of my house,” I said coldly. Anna ignored me, pointing to a document on the table. “This is a property transfer agreement. All your houses, cars, and company shares are to be transferred to my name.” I almost laughed at her audacity.

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The car crash, the night before my wedding, stole my legs. And every trace of expression from my face. After that, I never smiled at Alex again. Every day, he’d carry me out of bed, help with my physical therapy, and massage my legs before I slept. His attention grew more meticulous, almost bordering on desperate appeasement. I offered no resistance, no reply, not even sparing him a glance. Five years later, he finally broke. He’d drowned himself in liquor, kneeling before my wheelchair, his forehead pressed against the cold armrest. His eyes, bloodshot and brimming with despair, stared up at me: “Just tell me, what do I need to do? It’s been five years, Evie… Are we truly meant to live like this forever?” I slowly lowered my gaze, a cold smirk playing on my lips. It was the first time in half a decade I’d felt such a potent emotion towards him. “Don’t you get it, Alex?” I met his tormented gaze, each word a deliberate strike, “Between us, there’s only an endless war.” … Alex was utterly shattered. He clutched me fiercely, his grip so strong I thought my bones would shatter, his voice thick with tears: “Curse me! Hit me! Hate me! Just stop being a doll!” “Can’t we just start over?” Start over? I let him hold me, finding the thought utterly laughable. In the five years since that crash, Alex had dedicated everything, staying by my side without falter. From therapy massages to late-night vigils. Everyone praised his unwavering devotion. Even my usually doting parents chastised me for being ungrateful: “Stop tormenting him, just try to live a normal life.” But they would never know the truth behind that accident. That afternoon, five years ago, I finished work early, bubbling with excitement as I hurried to the bridal boutique. I wanted him to be the first to see me in my wedding dress. But outside the changing room, I heard the soft, simpering voice of Bethany, my best friend: “If I weren’t her best friend, would you break up with her and be with me?” Peeking through the crack in the door, I saw her wearing my wedding dress. Alex’s hand gently traced her waist. “Yes,” he replied without a second’s hesitation. A tender kiss brushed her lips. In that moment, my world imploded. I stumbled out of the bridal shop. My mind a blur, I drove away. Then, at the next intersection, I collided with an out-of-control truck. Alex’s tears streamed scalding hot onto my neck. Yet all I felt was a profound chill. He knew, of course. From the first moment I woke and looked at him, he understood. I knew everything. For five years, he lived with me, day in and day out, burdened by guilt. Everyone believed he was a man of integrity and deep affection. Only we both understood the unspoken truth: this was a silent, drawn-out torment. “That day at the bridal shop…” his voice was hoarse, “I saw you in the mirror.” My fingertips trembled. It was the first time in five years he’d brought up that day. “By the time I chased after you, your car was already gone.” He knelt by my wheelchair, his shoulders shaking. “Every day for five years, I’ve wondered, what if I hadn’t been so foolish? What if I hadn’t been soft-hearted and answered her that one word?” “But Evie, Bethany and I, we were over long before that.” He looked up, his eyes bloodshot, “You’re the one I love.” Watching his anguish, I suddenly found it absurd. He thought I still cared about his betrayal with Bethany. Cared if he still loved me. But when I witnessed that scene in the bridal shop, my love for him died then and there. Every time he massaged my atrophied legs, all I could think of was how those hands had caressed Bethany’s waist. When he pushed me to the hospital for check-ups, my mind replayed the moment he unhesitatingly agreed. If I hadn’t been crippled. They probably would have overcome all obstacles and been together by now. So, an endless war. That was my curse for him. Alex, exhausted from his outburst, slumped onto the sofa and fell into a heavy sleep. His phone vibrated persistently on the carpet, the screen lighting up and fading. On an impulse, I maneuvered my wheelchair over and picked it up. The number flashing on the screen, though unsaved, was one I could once recite by heart – Bethany. “Alex! Why aren’t you answering your phone! Is she the only one you care about?! Your son is dying—” Bethany’s voice on the other end was a frantic, piercing shriek, choked with tears, practically tearing through my eardrum. Son. The word was a poisoned icicle, stabbing deep into my heart. Freezing my blood in an instant. My fingers gripped the phone, icy cold, a bitter taste rising in my throat. “Then let him die.” I heard my own vicious voice, completely devoid of emotion. The other end of the line fell into abrupt silence. Then, Bethany found her outlet. My once closest friend unleashed a torrent of venomous curses: “Evie! It’s you! Why are you still clinging to Alex! Why can’t you just let us be happy! Why don’t you just die! Why didn’t you die in that crash five years ago! You’ll get what’s coming to you! You’ll burn in hell—!” What’s coming to me? Listening to her curses, I looked down, my other hand instinctively pressing against my cold, flat, numb abdomen. I remembered the doctor’s regretful yet brutal words when I woke five years ago: “Ms. Caldwell, the car crash caused a uterine rupture and severe hemorrhage. We… did our best. You won’t be able to have children in the future.” In that moment, I lost more than just my legs. I lost a child, barely conceived, who never got to see the light of day. And the right to be a mother. I chuckled softly into the phone. My voice was fleeting, like a wisp of smoke: “Bethany, my reckoning came long ago.” The moment you wore my wedding dress, and he answered, “Yes.” The moment I lost my child, forever broken. I’m already in this hell. What’s there to fear in dragging you all down with me? The next morning, after his fitful sleep, Alex reverted to his role as the impeccable husband. Gentle, patient. He meticulously tucked away all his pain and regret. The disheveled, vulnerable man from last night had vanished, evaporated like dew in the morning sun. Over these five years, his career had soared. Our home was spotless, tended by professional housekeepers and nurses. Yet, for my care, whenever he was home, he insisted on doing everything himself. Now, he knelt before my wheelchair, a warm cloth in hand, meticulously wiping each of my fingers. Every crease, every nail edge, was tended with painstaking care. The sunlight outlined his bowed profile, creating an almost devotional illusion. Breakfast was a porridge he’d cooked himself. He scooped a spoonful, naturally offering it to my lips: “It’s a beautiful day today. How about I take you for a stroll by the lake later?” I offered no reply, a silence he’d long grown accustomed to. He talked on, about new flowers blooming by the lake, about which tree had sprouted fresh buds. As he was about to wheel me out, his assistant rushed in, speaking in hushed tones about being unable to reach him, then pulled Alex aside for a private word. Alex’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, and he turned back to me with an apologetic look: “Something urgent came up at the company. I need to go.” He didn’t even have time to change out of his light gray loungewear, hastily following his assistant out the door. I watched him disappear, my heart clear with an indifferent certainty. It wasn’t about the company, of course. I knew well that over these five years, he’d never lacked for female company. I could sometimes catch the faint scent of perfume on his suits, a fragrance not my own. I remembered the subtle, hastily concealed scratch on his neck when he returned from a “business trip.” I’d also glimpsed the relentless message notifications on his phone, face-down on the table, quickly silenced. He thought he was a master of concealment, playing the role of devoted and repentant husband before me. But I’d long lost any curiosity to expose him. How many fleeting encounters or casual affairs he had outside meant nothing to me, no more than the clouds drifting by or the wind blowing outside my window. But a child—that was different. I recalled the tender, childish voice accidentally caught on his phone. Hatred, like a venomous vine, spiraled madly, suffocating me. Almost instinctively, I maneuvered my wheelchair back to the study and logged into my social media account, untouched for five years. Bethany’s social media account was public. I easily found the child. The boy in the photos looked less than two years old. He was held intimately in Bethany’s arms, the background a playground. Another showed Alex, dressed in casual wear, bending to wipe the boy’s brow. His profile revealed a truly relaxed tenderness I hadn’t seen in a long time. And countless fragments pieced together their happy family life – family restaurants, park picnics, birthday parties at home… I scrolled through the pictures, my face devoid of emotion. Only the fingers gripping the mouse were white from the excessive pressure. Five years I’d spent building a fortress of coldness, meant to ward off all pain. In this moment, hatred tore it open with a gaping, bloody wound. Why? Why, when I had lost my child and was forever stripped of the right to be a mother, Could they have a healthy, living child, who cried and laughed, and called him ‘Daddy’? The thought of a child, flowing with his and Bethany’s blood, growing day by day, softly calling them “Mommy and Daddy.” Receiving all their love and care… The image made my skin crawl. Alex returned in the dead of the third night. He carried the faint scent of disinfectant, silently knelt before my wheelchair, his hands clasped, knuckles white. “Evie,” his voice was terribly hoarse, “Bethany’s boy… had acute leukemia a few days ago. They fought for his life all night.” I watched him, this husband of mine, consumed with worry for my best friend’s son. “He’s out of immediate danger for now.” He looked up, his eyes bloodshot, searching my face for a flicker of emotion. I offered a cold, brittle smile: “Not dead? What a shame.” The air thickened, suffocating. Alex shot to his feet, his chest heaving, as if seeing me for the first time: “How can you say such a thing!” Alex’s eyes burned with disappointment: “I barely recognize you anymore, you used to be so kind!” “He’s just a child! He doesn’t understand anything! What has he done wrong?” “And what about me?” I looked up, my gaze like an ice-pick piercing him, “What did my unborn child do wrong?” He seemed choked, all anger trapped in his chest. “Yes, Bethany and I… it was wrong of me.” He turned his head, his voice sinking, offering an excuse: “After your accident, she blamed herself terribly, couldn’t get past it for a long time… Then she said she didn’t want anything, just wanted a child… She said she would never disrupt our lives…” I watched him scramble for excuses, then let out a low, bitter laugh. “Alex,” I choked back my laughter, my voice a whisper, yet each word a dagger to his heart, “Because of her, I lost my child, and I lost the right to be a mother forever.” “And now you tell me how noble and selfless she is, the woman who inserted herself into my friendship, and bore a child to my husband?” I stared at his suddenly pale face, each word a hammer blow: “You’re both despicable.” “Why do I rot in this abyss, while she gets to enjoy the full joy of motherhood?” “Why do I suffer in despair, my future shattered, while she finds solace and fulfillment through the child you stole together?” Five years ago, I was the brightest star of the ballet company, a swan under the spotlight. And now, this friend who once danced behind me. Not only wore my wedding dress and slept with my fiancé. But after I was crippled, she smoothly took my place on stage. I expressionlessly opened Bethany’s social media page. On the screen, she was wearing an elegant dance costume, demonstrating moves in a spacious, brightly lit dance studio, with the caption: “Thank you, my Mr. Caldwell, for giving me my second stage in life.” It was Alex, who, using our shared marital assets, had opened a ballet school for her. Scrolling further down. Under a pregnancy announcement from three years ago, it boldly read: “Bidding farewell to the stage, embracing the most beautiful role of my life.” Someone commented: “From principal dancer to the most beautiful mom, then founding a dance school – Ms. Hale is truly a life winner!” Life winner… Those two words were like poisoned needles, stabbing deep into my heart. I scoffed, looking at Alex, his face ashen: “She stole everything I once had – my stage, my glory, my love, my child, my healthy body… And I am trapped in this wheelchair, day after day, enduring your nauseating pity.” “You tell me, if you were me, how could you possibly be kind?” Alex stared at me, utterly speechless. I finally understood: hell wasn’t just the prison of a body. It was watching, with wide-open eyes, how the person who destroyed you, stepped over your corpse, and lived the life that should have been yours, glorious and unhindered. My curse seemed to have taken hold. Alex began to visibly waste away. Company affairs were demanding, and Bethany and the child also needed him. He began to “travel” frequently, his time away from home growing longer. Each return saw him disheveled, carrying the strong scent of disinfectant from the hospital. I suspected the child wasn’t doing well. Then, a number, dormant for five years, sent a message to my phone. It was Bethany. No words, just a series of photos. Alex asleep beside her, his tired profile etched with exhaustion. Another showed her, shoulder bare, curled in his embrace. Then came a message, dripping with undisguised triumph and provocation: “One child is too lonely; we plan to have another soon, a sibling for our son. Alex says this time, he wants a daughter.” I stared at the indecent images on the screen, feeling no anger, only disgust. When Alex returned that evening, dark circles shadowed his weary eyes. He still intended to massage my legs, but his movements were distracted. “Evie,” he began, his voice dry, “Leo’s illness… he needs constant care. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m just fulfilling my responsibility. I hope you… can understand.” He knelt, trying to take my hand, his eyes alight with that familiar urgency: “Don’t overthink this. I promise you, no matter what, you’re still the one I love most.” I listened to his performance in silence. Then, I picked up the tablet beside me and tapped the screen. One by one, Bethany’s photos scrolled clearly across his vision. The images were nauseatingly explicit. “Caring for a critically ill child in the hospital,” my voice was calm, yet laced with scorn, “and still finding time for… a romantic tryst with the mother of said child. Alex, you two certainly have appetites.” Alex’s face instantly went ashen, as if struck. Shame and embarrassment practically poured off him. He stammered, then finally found his voice, a raw urgency from having his facade ripped away: “Listen to me! It’s not what you think!” “Leo’s illness… it needs a bone marrow transplant! Bethany and I aren’t a match! The doctors said… that a sibling’s cord blood might be our only hope… we just have to… try for another child…” His voice trailed off, barely audible by the end, almost too ashamed to speak. I looked at him, suddenly devoid of even a cold smirk. “Get out.” The next day, I contacted my lawyer, Mr. Davies. I meticulously organized all the evidence and sent it to him. “Here are Alex’s bank card statements for the past five years. He used our joint marital assets to purchase property and luxury cars for Bethany, and also funded her dance school.” “This is a copy of Leo Caldwell’s birth certificate, with Alex’s name listed as the father. And here are surveillance screenshots of his frequent visits to Bethany and her son’s residence.” “The evidence is damning,” my voice was level, “I want to sue him for bigamy. Simultaneously, I want to file a pre-litigation asset preservation order to freeze all his and the company’s liquid assets.” “Furthermore,” I paused, adding with unshakeable resolve, “on the grounds of disposing of substantial joint marital property without spousal consent, I will file a civil lawsuit against Bethany, demanding she fully return all property, school investments, and large gifts Alex provided her.” “Immediately apply for asset preservation, and freeze her personal accounts and the dance school as well.” Mr. Davies was remarkably efficient. Or perhaps, the chain of evidence I provided was simply too perfect. Within days, the legal hammer fell swiftly. Bank and court officials arrived at the company simultaneously while Alex was in the midst of a crucial business negotiation. Overnight, all his accounts, equity, and even the funding channels for Bethany’s ballet school were frozen. To make matters worse, several key project partners simultaneously sent inquiries, trapping him firmly at the company. When he finally disentangled himself, storming home in a rage, He was met by a starkly clean, empty space. The living room, bedroom, walk-in closet… every trace of Evie was gone. The jewelry box was empty, and large sections of the wardrobe where I kept my clothes were bare. Even the bottle of my usual, faint white-floral hand cream on the bathroom counter had vanished. It was as if I, Evie, had never lived there for five years. Alex’s face instantly paled, his chest heaving as he roared at the empty house: “Evie!” Mrs. Gable, who had taken care of me for years, peeked cautiously from the kitchen, still holding a dishcloth. “Sir, you’re back.” “Where’s my wife?” He strode over, his voice tight with panic. Mrs. Gable flinched, then quickly answered: “The missus… the missus had the caregiver help her pack her bags this morning, and then she left. She… she didn’t say where she was going.” “Left?” A terrifying storm erupted in Alex’s eyes, “She’s in a wheelchair, where could she possibly go?! Why didn’t you stop her! Why didn’t you call me!” Mrs. Gable was about to stammer a reply. But Alex’s phone rang then. Hope instantly flared in his eyes as he pulled out his phone. The name flashing on the screen, however, was not the one he yearned to see. He frowned, picking up the call with extreme annoyance. The next moment, a woman’s utterly frantic shriek and sobs, even without speakerphone, echoed clearly through the silent living room. “Alex! Why are all my bank cards frozen?! The hospital said they’ll stop Leo’s medication if we don’t pay! He’s surviving on those drugs, he’ll die without money!” Bethany’s voice, distorted by despair, screeched: “Evie! It must be that wicked witch, Evie! May she burn in hell! Alex! That’s the Caldwell family’s only—” Alex seemed not to hear the wails on the other end, mechanically disconnecting the call and violently slamming his phone against the wall. The screen shattered on impact. He surveyed the suffocatingly empty house; Evie’s scent seemed to still linger in the air. But everywhere he looked, there was no longer any evidence of her presence. He stumbled into the bedroom, frantically opening every drawer, every closet door, even bending to look under the bed – nothing. “Evie…” he murmured, his voice hoarse, then slammed a fist against the cold closet door with a dull thud. His knuckles instantly swelled and bled, but he felt no pain, only the agony of an empty heart filled with cold air. Mrs. Gable stood in the doorway, too terrified to breathe. Just then, the doorbell chimed.

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Desperate to pay my brother-in-law’s gambling debts, my mother-in-law and sister-in-law conspired with human traffickers. They stole my three-month-old son from his crib as I slept. I found him too late—frantic and broken. To avoid a police checkpoint, those monsters had smothered him in their car trunk. When I confronted my husband, he coldly covered my mouth. “Mom and Brenda were desperate. He’s gone now—can’t we just have another?” Brenda sneered, “He was just another mouth to feed. Selling him actually helped this family. You should thank me!” Overwhelmed by grief and rage, my heart stopped on the way to the police station. Then I opened my eyes. I was back in the night my son was taken. In the darkness, Martha and Brenda crept inside. “Hurry,” Brenda hissed. “The buyer said fifty thousand in cash tonight for a boy.” They grabbed the bundle from the crib and shoved it into the traffickers’ van. The next morning, Brenda counted a thick stack of bills, smirking triumphantly. “Alice, your boy just wasn’t meant for this world. He wandered off last night—try not to take it too hard.” I stared at her, confused, and pointed to the baby bassinet. “But… my baby is right here?” … My heart was hammering against my ribs, a frantic drum threatening to burst from my chest. I snapped my eyes open, staring at the familiar, shadowy ceiling. From the living room, hushed, urgent voices drifted in. “Come on, Mom, that miserable bitch is dead to the world. Let’s get this over with!” That was Brenda’s voice, sharp and cruel as always. Instinctively, my hand shot out to the space beside me in the bed. Empty. A tidal wave of panic crashed over me, cold and suffocating. But then, my mind cleared. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and checked the time. 2:00 AM. The exact moment my son was taken from me in my previous life. I wasn’t dead. I was back. If I was being given a second chance, I would be damned if I let my son become that cold, bruised body in the back of a car again. The footsteps outside my door grew closer, punctuated by Martha’s trembling whisper. “But he’s a Miller… our blood…” “Bloodline this, bloodline that! If those loan sharks cut my husband up, there won’t be a Miller family left!” Brenda snapped back impatiently. I slipped out of bed, my bare feet silent on the cold floorboards. Pressing my ear to the door, I could hear them rummaging in the living room for the bottle of chloroform they’d prepared. Last time, they used it to make sure I was completely unconscious before they took my baby. That was my chance. I slid open the unlocked side door connecting my room to Brenda’s. A sliver of moonlight fell across her bed, illuminating her son, Kevin, sleeping like a little king. He was fat and pampered, sprawled out on his back, only two weeks older than my own child. As the first grandson, he was the family’s treasured prince. Brenda guarded him like a dragon, barely letting me get a glimpse of him. My baby, on the other hand, was seen as a burden. My difficult birth had cost the family a fortune in medical bills, and they never let me forget it. In three months, they hadn’t even bought him a decent pack of diapers. Looking at Kevin’s face, a perfect miniature of Brenda’s, a wild, brilliant idea exploded in my mind. If you’re so determined to sell a “Miller grandson,” then you’re going to sell the one that truly matters. The whole swap took less than two minutes. I was back in my bed, feigning sleep, just as the lock on my door clicked softly. Two shadows slipped into the room. The sweet, cloying scent of chloroform filled the air, and I held my breath. “Quick, quick!” Brenda whispered, eagerly pulling back a corner of the blanket. In the darkness, she didn’t bother to look closely. Her hand found the shape of a baby, and she scooped him up in one swift motion. “Hefty little thing. That’s our Miller stock for you,” Martha muttered with a hint of pride. “Stock? He’s just a sack of dead weight!” Brenda spat back, pulling a rough burlap sack over the baby’s head. Kevin let out a soft whimper in his sleep. “Shh! Don’t let him cry out!” Martha gasped, terrified. Brenda roughly clamped her hand over the sack’s opening. “Cry about what? This is fifty grand! He’ll be living like a king where he’s going!” Beside me, my husband, Rick, rolled over and mumbled, “So noisy… just get it done, Mom…” So he knew. He was in on it. Last time, when I was screaming, tearing my heart out, he told me our son had simply wandered off. This whole rotten family, this nest of vipers, they were all in on it together. I stared at Rick’s sleeping, deceitful face, and a firestorm of hatred roared to life inside me. I wanted to plunge a knife right into his chest. The two women tiptoed out, carrying the squirming burlap sack like thieves in the night. The front door clicked shut. I stared at my closed bedroom door, my nails digging so deep into my palms that they drew blood. Fifty thousand dollars. The price they put on my child’s life. Well, the deal is done. I hope you don’t tremble when you count your money, Brenda. The next morning, I was woken by loud, boisterous laughter from the living room. “Oh, my God, I’ve never seen so much cash!” Brenda’s voice was giddy with pure, unadulterated joy. I pushed my door open and walked out. The coffee table was covered in neat stacks of crisp hundred-dollar bills. Brenda was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, licking her thumb as she counted the money, her face split into a grotesque, triumphant grin. Martha sat beside her, shelling sunflower seeds. “Brenda, dear, is this enough to pay off the debt?” “Pay it off? There’s plenty left over!” Brenda grabbed a handful of bills and waved them in the air. “With this, I can buy whatever I want! I’m getting Kevin that expensive imported formula, no more of that cheap domestic crap for my boy!” Rick sat nearby, smoking a cigarette, his eyes glued to the money with a greedy gleam. When I stepped into the room, the joyful atmosphere instantly evaporated. Brenda froze, then quickly swept the cash behind her back, her expression shifting to one of theatrical sorrow. “Oh, Alice. You’re awake.” She stood up and walked over, patting my shoulder with fake sympathy. “Listen… there’s something I have to tell you. You need to be strong, okay?” I looked at her, my face a cold mask. “What is it?” “Well, the wind was really strong last night, must have blown your door open. When we woke up this morning… your baby was gone.” Brenda watched my face carefully for a reaction. “Must have been kidnappers. It’s a dangerous world out there. Try not to take it too hard. The boy was just unlucky, wasn’t meant to be yours.” Martha chimed in, “That’s right, Alice. What’s lost is lost. He was nothing but trouble anyway. Don’t go making a scene and bringing bad luck on the house. You’re young, you can have another one.” Rick stubbed out his cigarette, his voice laced with irritation. “That’s enough. Mom and Brenda are just trying to help. Stop looking so miserable, it’s depressing.” In my past life, those words would have sent me collapsing to the floor in a weeping heap. Now, I just found them pathetic. I walked to the kitchen counter, slowly poured myself a glass of water, and took a sip. “Oh? He’s missing?” I set the glass down, a small, ironic smile playing on my lips. “Brenda, are you sure it was my son who went missing?” My calm reaction threw her. Her eyes darted nervously. “What… are you in shock? Did you go crazy? Of course it was your son, who else would it be?” “That’s what’s so strange,” I said, turning and gesturing towards my bedroom door. “If he’s gone, then who’s that sleeping in my room?” The living room fell into a dead, suffocating silence. Brenda stared at me like I was insane. “What are you talking about? There’s someone in your room?” “If you don’t believe me, why don’t you go see for yourself?” I shrugged. Brenda’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. She shot a look at Martha, who looked just as bewildered. “Has she lost her mind?” “She’s probably hallucinating from the grief!” Brenda sneered, marching towards my room. “Let’s just see what kind of ghost you’ve conjured up!” She threw my door open. A few seconds passed. Then, a bloodcurdling scream tore through the house, sharp enough to shatter glass. “AAAAAHHH!!!” Brenda stumbled backward out of the room, her face pale as death. “Impossible… that’s impossible!” She pointed a trembling finger into my room. “That… that’s…” “That’s what?” I asked, crossing my arms, calmly watching her unravel. Suddenly, realization dawned on her face. She spun around and charged towards her own master bedroom. “My baby! My Kevin!” She kicked her door open and threw herself at the bed. A moment of silence, then a howl of agony that was even more desperate than her first scream. “He’s gone! My Kevin is gone!!!” Brenda burst back out, her hair a wild mess, clutching the empty baby blanket I had left for her. Her eyes were bulging from their sockets. “Alice! It was you! You hid my son, didn’t you!” she shrieked, lunging at me like a cornered animal. “Give me back my Kevin!” I sidestepped her attack and subtly stuck out my foot. Thud! Brenda went down hard, face-first, scattering the stacks of money across the floor. Red-and-green bills fluttered through the air like morbid confetti. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Brenda,” I said, looking down at her pathetic, sprawling form. “My baby is sleeping peacefully in my room. How is it my fault that yours is missing?” I bent down, picked up a hundred-dollar bill that had landed by my foot, and flicked it with my finger. “Besides,” I added, my voice dripping with insinuation, “it looks like you came into quite a bit of money this morning. This fifty thousand dollars… you didn’t happen to sell something valuable to get it, did you?” Brenda, lying on the floor surrounded by her blood money, began to tremble violently. “You bitch! It had to be you!” Brenda scrambled to her feet, her whole body shaking with rage. Her mind, twisted by greed and panic, concocted a desperate theory. “You must have woken up this morning and found your baby gone! So you came and stole mine to cover it up!” At her words, Martha and Rick stared, dumbfounded. Martha’s sunflower seeds scattered across the floor. “Brenda… are you saying… that was Kevin?” “Yes, Mom! It was her! This bitch swapped them!” Brenda wailed. “She must have found her own kid missing and stole mine so she wouldn’t have to face the shame!” She howled and charged at me again. This time, I was ready. Just as her fingers were about to tangle in my hair, I grabbed the pot of freshly brewed coffee from the counter and flung its scalding contents directly at her face. “AAAGGGHHH!” Brenda shrieked, clutching her face and writhing on the floor. “Alice, you’re insane! I’ll kill you!” “Stop it!” Rick, who had been watching from the sidelines, finally snapped out of his stupor. He lunged forward, grabbing my wrist in a vice-like grip. “What the hell are you doing! That’s Brenda! How dare you!” he roared, his eyes bloodshot. “Have you no heart? Her son is missing, and you do this? Give him back to her right now!” I stared coldly at the man I once shared a bed with. This was the same hand that had covered my mouth, silencing my screams of grief. I looked him straight in the eye. “Rick, your nephew goes missing and you’re this frantic. A few minutes ago, when they told me my child was gone, what were you doing?” “Shut up! It’s not the same!” he yelled back, righteous and indignant. “Kevin is the first grandson! He’s the heir! Now apologize to Brenda and give the baby back!” “Give him back? Go to hell!” I couldn’t hold back any longer. I lowered my head and sank my teeth into the wrist that held me. “AGH! Let go! Are you a dog?!” Rick howled in pain, his face contorting. He instinctively released me and swung his hand, slapping me hard across the face. My cheek stung, burning with pain, but I smiled. That slap severed the last, fragile thread of hope I ever had for this man, for this family. “Go on! Hit me again! Kill me!” I spat out a mouthful of blood and saliva. “Kill me, and you can wait for the police to come collect all of your bodies!” The word “police” made Martha flinch as if she’d been electrocuted. “No… no police!” Brenda, ignoring the searing pain on her face, scrambled up, her skin red and blistering beneath the coffee grounds. She shoved past everyone and stormed into my bedroom. “That is my Kevin! You just changed his clothes! I’ll know him when I see him!” She lunged for the bassinet and snatched the sleeping baby out of it. Startled awake, the baby began to wail, a loud, piercing cry. It was definitely the cry of a healthy boy. A manic glint of joy lit up Brenda’s eyes. “It’s him! That’s Kevin’s cry! Alice, you lying snake! I’m going to tear you apart!” She clutched the baby and rushed back out into the living room. “Mom! Look! It’s Kevin!” I stood my ground, not moving a muscle, and calmly smoothed the collar of my shirt that Rick had pulled askew. “Brenda, you might want to take a closer look before you claim him.” My quiet words stopped her in her tracks. She jerked her head down, staring at the baby in her arms. The infant’s face was still wet with tears, but his features… though all babies look similar, a mother knows her child. She sees them every day. Brenda’s hands began to shake. “It’s not… why doesn’t he look right…” she muttered to herself, before frantically starting to pull at the baby’s diaper. “The birthmark! My Kevin has a birthmark on his thigh! And he’s a boy! He’s my boy!” Martha hurried over, her eyes, along with Brenda’s, fixated on the baby’s lower body. Rick, forgetting the bite on his hand, craned his neck to see. “Of course it’s Kevin! This bitch is just trying to scare us!” I didn’t stop them. With a sharp rip, Brenda tore the diaper off. In that instant, the air in the room seemed to freeze. All three of them went completely still. The triumphant grin on Brenda’s face curdled and died. Martha’s eyes widened, her lips trembling, unable to form a sound. And Rick looked like he’d been struck by lightning, his jaw hanging slack. The baby’s smooth, pale skin was on full display. There was nothing there. No tell-tale sign of a boy. No birthmark. It was a girl. Unmistakably a girl. “How… how can it be a girl…” Brenda’s voice was a ragged, strangled whisper. She couldn’t believe it, turning the baby over and over, her hands searching desperately for something that wasn’t there. It was useless. This was my daughter. The same daughter who, in my past life, was sold by this family without even being given a name, all because she was a girl. And now, she was the stone that would shatter their world. “No! This is impossible!” Brenda shrieked, dropping the baby back into the bassinet. She whipped her head around to face me, the veins in her eyes bulging. “Where is he! What have you done with my Kevin! Where did you hide him?!” I walked over, my heart aching as I gently picked up my crying daughter, soothing her against my shoulder. Then I looked up, my gaze as sharp and cold as a shard of glass. “Brenda, are you forgetting what you did last night?” My voice was soft, but it carried a bone-deep chill. “At two in the morning, you and Mom carried a baby out of this house. You stood right by the door and said he was a boy, worth fifty thousand dollars.” I stared at Brenda’s face, which had drained of all color, and I spoke each word with deliberate, crushing weight. “So if the baby in my arms is a girl,” “who exactly was the little boy you stuffed in a sack and sold for the fifty thousand dollars on that table?”

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On the day of our engagement, Noah’s little “friend” called him seven times. He paused, a diamond ring gleaming under the lights, midway through placing it on my finger. He glanced at the screen, not even a flicker of a frown, and simply hung up. I kept my smile in place, my fingernails digging into my palms. That unlabelled number—I’d memorized it three years ago. When the eighth call came through, Noah finally stood up, leaning in to whisper in my ear, “Urgent client matter, I need to take it.” I clutched his sleeve, the engagement ring blindingly bright. “What client needs seven calls during our engagement party?” Noah froze for half a second, then chuckled. “Asteria, are you checking up on me?” A low ripple of laughter spread through the guests below. I let go of his sleeve. The ninth call. When Noah returned, his arm around my shoulder, he said, “Willow had a bit of an issue. I need to go over there.” Someone joked, “Mr. Thompson, this is your engagement party!” Noah smiled and shook his head, a mix of helplessness, indulgence, and a hint of affection. “I can’t help it. She’s all alone in New York; if she runs into trouble, she only has me.” He kissed my forehead. “Asteria is the most understanding, right?” I stared at the sugar-frosted couple on the cake, a wave of nausea washing over me. Understanding. I’d heard that word for seven years. 1 Noah came back at 3 AM. I was sitting on the living room carpet, still in my engagement dress. He opened the door, reeking of alcohol, and paused when he saw me. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” “Waiting for you.” He walked over, instinctively reaching to ruffle my hair, but I turned my head, dodging his touch. His hand hung in the air for a moment before he sat on the sofa, loosening his tie. “There was a problem with the fire inspection at Willow’s gallery. I found someone to handle it. She was terrified, crying constantly, so I had to stay and comfort her.” I looked up. “Noah, today was our engagement party.” “I know.” He closed his eyes, weary. “That’s why I rushed back, didn’t I? Asteria, please don’t make a scene, okay? I’m really tired today.” I laughed, a bitter, angry sound. “I’m making a scene? You abandoned me in front of all our guests for Willow, and now you’re saying I’m making a scene?” Noah opened his eyes, his gaze full of incomprehension. “How can that be the same? Willow had a real problem. Those toasts and social obligations were just going through the motions. Asteria, you used to not be so petty.” Yes, I used to. Before, when he spent Willow’s birthday with her, ditching me at the cinema, I said, “It’s fine.” Before, when he drove to pick her up drunk in the middle of the night, forgetting I had a high fever, I said, “You should.” Before, when he arranged for her to work at his company, and then smiled and said, “Good, you can rest more,” when my job application was rejected, I said, “Whatever you say.” I was too understanding, so understanding that he forgot I could feel pain too. “I don’t want the ring,” I said. Noah sat bolt upright. “Asteria Quinn, what do you mean?” I slowly turned the ‘dove’s egg’ diamond on my ring finger. “It means this thing feels heavy, suffocating me.” He stared at me for a long time, then suddenly chuckled, getting up and heading to the bathroom. “Alright, I know you feel wronged today. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to buy that handbag you’ve been eyeing for six months as compensation, okay?” The sound of running water filled the air. I looked down, each facet of the diamond reflecting my distorted face. 2 Noah and I were truly childhood sweethearts. Our families lived next door, and we were in the same class from kindergarten through high school. He was always dazzlingly brilliant, good grades, handsome, and when he played basketball, all the girls in school would secretly watch him. I was as ordinary as his shadow. After high school graduation, at a dinner party, he’d had too much to drink and cornered me in the karaoke lounge hallway. The neon lights flickered across his face. His voice hoarse, he’d said, “Asteria Quinn, let’s just make a go of it, you and me.” My heart pounded like a drum, but I asked, “Why ‘just make a go of it’?” He laughed, his warm breath on my ear. “Because we know everything about each other. It’s easy.” That night, he kissed me and whispered in my ear, “We’ll get married once things settle down.” Only later did I understand that “settle down” meant when he’d had his fun, when I was completely unable to leave him. Noah went to a top finance program, while I barely made it into a local university for journalism. For four years, we were apart. I wore out the seats on countless train trips between New York and Boston, while the number of times he visited me could be counted on two hands. Sophomore year, on Valentine’s Day, I secretly went to his school to surprise him. Beneath his dorm building, I saw him walk out alongside a girl. She wore a Chanel suit, her eyes curving into crescent moons when she smiled. Noah bent his head to listen to her, the curve of his profile so gentle it made my heart ache. I hid behind a tree and heard the girl say, “Noah, your little childhood friend didn’t call you today, huh?” His voice carried a smile. “Asteria is understanding. She knows I’m spending the day at an exhibition with you.” The girl looped her arm through his. “I’m so envious of her, so easygoing. If it were me, I’d be raising hell.” Noah flicked her forehead. “That’s why you’re not as sweet. Asteria never makes a fuss.” They walked away. I stood beneath the tree until my legs went numb. My phone showed a message he’d sent that morning: “Asteria, project team is working late today, can’t video chat. Get yourself something nice to eat.” I looked up and saw his social media feed updated five minutes ago. The girl had posted a photo, geotagged at the Waterfront Art Museum. “Thanks to a certain finance whiz for ditching work to walk around with me~” In the photo, Noah was bending his head, helping her adjust her audio guide, sunlight catching his eyelashes. I liked her post. Noah immediately messaged me privately: “Asteria? How do you have Willow as a friend?” My fingers trembled as I typed: “Last time your phone was with me, she called for you, so I added her.” “Oh. Willow has a child-like temper, loves to show off. Don’t take it to heart.” I didn’t reply. He sent another message: “By the way, her birthday is next month. What do you think I should get her? She seems to like that new Tiffany necklace.” I’d seen that necklace three times last week while browsing the mall. Finally, I typed: “Sounds good.” 3 Willow was a teammate Noah met during an international finance competition in his freshman year. A talented art student from a wealthy background, she opened a gallery after studying abroad. When Noah spoke of her, his eyes would light up. “Willow is the most spirited girl I’ve ever met.” At Noah’s onboarding celebration dinner, she walked over with a glass of champagne, sizing me up and down. She smiled. “You must be Asteria? Noah talks about you all the time. You’re… just like a girl next door.” I was wearing a new dress I’d bought for the occasion, but next to her haute couture, I felt like a clown who’d wandered in by mistake. Noah naturally put his arm around my shoulder. “Asteria isn’t quite used to these kinds of events, Willow. Please look out for her.” “Don’t worry,” Willow winked, leaning closer to me. “Asteria, I heard you work as a planner at a cultural company? My gallery needs some copywriting for its next exhibition. Want to give it a try? The pay isn’t great, but it’s an opportunity.” My nails dug into my palms. “No, thank you.” She didn’t seem offended, turning to Noah. “Your little childhood friend, she has spirit.” That night, after coming home, I asked Noah, “Does Willow like you?” He was unbuttoning his shirt and chuckled at my question. “What are you thinking? Willow and I are just buddies. If she were really interested in me, would she have waited this long?” “But her attitude towards me…” Noah hugged me from behind. “That’s just how she is, a spoiled princess, but she doesn’t mean any harm. Asteria, you never used to be so suspicious.” I fell silent. “Used to.” I’d never seen the light in his eyes when he looked at someone else before. 4 In my third year of work, I gritted my teeth and bought a small apartment. The down payment was from my own savings, hard-earned without a penny from my family. On the day I got the keys, I excitedly pulled Noah to see it. He walked around once, frowning. “It’s too far from my company. The commute would be over an hour.” “But it’s close to my company,” I said, pulling him towards the balcony. “We could put a small coffee table here and sunbathe together on weekends.” Noah was absentmindedly scrolling on his phone. “Willow’s gallery is looking for a new space recently. I’ve looked at a few places for her. Tomorrow, I have to go with her for a site visit.” My smile froze. “Tomorrow is Saturday.” “I know,” he put away his phone, ruffling my hair. “Be good, you go ahead and get settled. I promise I’ll come help you next week.” He left. I sat alone in the empty living room, my phone screen glowing. It was Willow’s latest social media post: “Why rely on others when you have Mr. Thompson? His efficiency is unmatched~” It was accompanied by a screenshot of her chat with Noah. Noah: “It’s too much for a girl like you to handle all this. I’ll help you oversee it.” Willow: “Oh, I couldn’t possibly be a bother [cute emoji]” Noah: “Why be so formal with me?” I turned off my phone and started painting the walls. Latex paint splattered on my face, mixing with tears, salty and acrid. That night, Noah called, his voice weary. “Ran around all day. Willow’s standards are really high; she wasn’t happy with several places.” I stared at the ceiling. “Noah, I strained my back today lifting heavy things.” “Oh? Is it serious?” He paused. “Maybe you should go to the hospital tomorrow? I really can’t get away this weekend.” “No need. I’ll be fine after some rest.” He let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good. Oh, by the way, Willow said she wants to treat me to dinner to thank me. Why don’t you come along? She said she wants to apologize to you for her bad attitude last time.” “No.” His voice deepened. “Asteria, Willow genuinely wants to be friends with you. Can you please stop being so resistant towards her?” I laughed. “Noah, are you my boyfriend, or hers?” There was a long silence on the other end of the line. “Asteria Quinn.” He called me by my full name, which usually meant he was truly angry. “I thought you were understanding. I didn’t realize you could be so unreasonable.”

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