Category: English

The System required me to win the heart of the male lead, a boy born with telepathy who would grow up to be a ruthless, cold-blooded, and brooding psychopath. I pondered for a moment and chose to enter the world when the male lead was exactly one year old. The System: [?] “Starting today, I will be his legal guardian. I will teach him to obey the law, respect women, stay optimistic, and be a decent human being,” I said without batting an eye. “A truly excellent romance strategy should start with a proper education.” The System was convinced: [You make a valid point.] So, on a day with heavy snow, I picked up the one-year-old male lead, Robin Winter, who had been abandoned at the hospital. Six years later, at the children’s home I opened, he asked me in his sweet, childish voice, “Miss Ellie, what does it mean to win someone’s heart?” I gently patted his head. “It means I want you to feel all the care and love this world has to offer.” Seven-year-old Robin’s eyes sparkled, and he spun around in pure joy. “I love you too, Miss Ellie!” Around him, the male lead’s future subordinates, business partners, mortal enemies, and childhood sweethearts all swarmed around me, chirping, “We love Miss Ellie the most!” The System: [The male lead’s affection meter is maxed out. Host’s mission is complete… Wait, you can do it like this?!] 01 After dying from severe overwork, I was forced to bind with a System and accept a romance mission. The System transmitted the original plot to me. I looked at the files showing a handsome but utterly apathetic teenage boy and fell into deep thought. He was being trampled underfoot, covered in bruises and cuts. His eyes were filled with an inorganic, dead gray, so indifferent that he looked entirely detached from the world. The System spoke in a rigid, mechanical tone: [Once you enter the world, you can take him home. Right now, he is working odd jobs on the streets and suffering endless bullying. He might not trust you at first, so you will need to melt his frozen heart with love. Also, he has a childhood sweetheart, his first love. According to our projections, after he reunites with her, the two of you will have a massive misunderstanding…] I interrupted it. “How old is he? He looks like a young teenager.” It paused for a second. [This is a photo of him at fourteen.] “Then why is he working on the streets?” I frowned. “At that age, he should be in middle school.” The System: […He has no money. He dropped out.] “Public education is free and mandatory through high school. The foster system should also be covering his basic needs,” I pointed out the glaring issue. “The group home he was placed in is clearly non-compliant and violating regulations.” The System was baffled by my logic. [Is… is that how it works?] “It seems the child welfare system in this region is severely flawed,” I mused for a moment. “Just send me into this world. I already know exactly what I need to do.” The System perked up. [Great! So which timeline would you like to drop into? When he’s fourteen and being humiliated by customers? Or when he’s eighteen and unconscious in a dark alley? Or maybe when he’s twenty-three…] I said, “When he is one year old, obviously.” The System: [?] When Robin Winter was born, he was sickly and frail. His father was unknown, and his mother died in childbirth. When he was just a year old, his distant relatives abandoned him at the entrance of a local hospital. It was the dead of winter, with a massive blizzard howling. Robin spiked a dangerously high fever and permanently lost a portion of his hearing. Yet, as the male lead, he possessed a unique protagonist perk—telepathy. From that day on, even though his physical world grew muted and quiet, the malicious thoughts of everyone around him constantly screamed in his head. I stood at the hospital entrance, looking down at the baby sleeping soundly in my arms, and said bluntly, “Since you expect me to complete a mission, you need to give me a cheat code. Like unlimited funds, for example. Otherwise, your male lead is going to starve to death.” [Is this really allowed?] The System sounded incredibly anxious after unlocking the funds for me, asking for the thirteenth time, [Should I just fast-forward you ten years into the future?] “Let’s not be a predator,” I wagged my finger. “I am twenty-two years old. When it comes to a romance mission, raising a one-year-old is acceptable. Hitting on an eighteen-year-old is not. Sixteen is absolutely out of the question, and eleven is just criminal.” The System: […] Bathing in the radiant light of my morality and respect for the law, it fell into a daze, utterly speechless. “Let’s go,” I said. “We have a lot of work to do.” For starters, I needed to look up the licensing requirements and qualifications needed to take over an orphanage. The Haven Children’s Home, where Robin was originally supposed to end up, was horribly mismanaged. But that didn’t matter. I could overhaul it myself. I wrapped the baby’s blanket a little tighter and carried him into the hospital. “Hopefully we’re not too late, and his hearing can still be saved.” 02 The System forged all the necessary legal identification for me. First, I got Robin fully treated at the hospital. Then, I officially took over the dilapidated Haven Children’s Home. The facility had been bankrupt and effectively abandoned for years. There were no children and no staff. It was only temporarily seized by the county this year, leaving everything in complete chaos and desperate need of rebuilding. My previous job in the real world had been at a foster facility, so I was incredibly familiar with the protocols—especially with the System helping me cut through the red tape. Robin was an abandoned infant. After the hospital handed his case to the police, I pulled some strings, officially fostered him, and brought him into Haven Children’s Home as its very first and only child. It was the exact same trajectory as the original plot, but the difference was that this time, the director of the orphanage was me. While caring for Robin, I simultaneously reconstructed the entire facility, systematically upgrading the infrastructure and living conditions. Everything progressed incredibly smoothly, which left the System in a state of profound shock. Because Robin’s affection meter toward me was skyrocketing. It was already at eighty. I wasn’t surprised in the slightest. For a toddler, the person they love the most is obviously the one who feeds and cuddles them every single day. Even though Robin didn’t understand the complex concept of “love” yet, he had already learned to reach his chubby little arms out whenever I approached, flashing me a goofy, toothy smile. Whenever this happened, the System would mutter to itself: [How is this happening? You can do it like this? I didn’t know you could do it like this…] I ignored its existential crisis, looking up at the beautifully renovated children’s home. “The efficiency is great. Now I just need to figure out if there are decent educational facilities nearby.” I had reviewed the local zoning laws. A children’s home was legally permitted to operate its own on-site school, but Haven currently didn’t meet the strict educational standards. I was going to have to work harder. The System: […] It didn’t understand human zoning laws, so it chose to remain silent. Because I got him to the hospital in time and took meticulous care of him, Robin grew up to be exceptionally healthy. By the time he was three, he was running and jumping everywhere, calling me “Miss Ellie” in his sweet, milky voice. Little Robin looked up at me and asked, “Miss Ellie, what does my name mean?” I picked him up and told him that on the day he came into this world, it was snowing. And his mother happened to love robins, the little birds that brave the winter. He was still too young to grasp the permanence of death and separation, but I didn’t want to erase the beautiful origin of his name just to protect him. Robin nodded, half-understanding. “My name means the bird mommy liked. And mommy liked me too.” “Yes,” I gently stroked his hair. “She loved you very much.” He beamed, flashing that same goofy, adorable smile. On the day I taught Robin how to write his own name, I asked the System, “Are there different types of Systems out there?” [Umm…] The System was stumped by my question and thought about it seriously. [I don’t know for sure, but we are all Romance Systems.] “You guys,” I caught the nuance in its phrasing. “You have coworkers?” [Yes, but I don’t have a name.] “Do they have names?” [They all picked names for themselves,] the System said blankly. [My friends are named Clemency, Justice, Medic, and Scholar…] I asked, “Why don’t you give yourself a name like they did?” The System hesitated for a few seconds. [Because some of the older Systems said they were slacking off. They said that once you pick a name, you end up getting distracted by other things instead of the mission.] “You can do other things too. Like helping me run this children’s home,” I said. “I’m still technically doing the romance mission, so it’s not slacking off.” [Really?] The System sounded suddenly excited. [I can pick my own name too?] “Yes,” I said warmly. “What do you want to be called?” [Then… I want to run this home with you,] it said. [I want to be called Felix. It means lucky and happy.] I smiled. “Felix. I like it.” It went quiet for a long time, but I guessed it had probably run off to share the good news with its friends. 03 On the day Haven Children’s Home officially reopened its doors to the public, I brought Robin with me to welcome the new kids. I had read the files. Likely due to the gravitational pull of the original plot, Robin’s former childhood sweetheart and future white moonlight, Chloe Bennett, was among the new arrivals. Her parents had both died in a tragic car accident, after which she was sent to the orphanage. In the original timeline, when she was eight, her adoptive parents took her and immigrated overseas. The plot didn’t dwell much on that period, but for Chloe to go from a sweet, innocent little girl to a classic, vicious antagonist later on, her time overseas must have been utterly miserable. I carefully reviewed her file and realized that the couple who originally adopted her hadn’t actually met the strict legal requirements for adoption at all. It was another failure of the welfare system’s lack of oversight. So, looking at the timid, trembling little girl in front of me, I crouched down and gently rubbed her head. “Don’t be scared, Chloe. This is your home now.” She looked at me with wide, innocent eyes. Perhaps because my gaze was entirely patient, and sensitive children could easily detect the absence of malice, she cautiously reached out her chubby little hand and grasped my finger. The adorable little girl still had tear tracks on her pale cheeks, but as I held her in my arms and gave her a piece of candy, she showed her very first smile of the day, softly mirroring the others and calling me, “Miss Ellie.” Robin, meanwhile, kept a very serious, tight expression on his face, nervously but proudly leading the new kids on a tour of the facility. I had officially assigned this task to him. He took his responsibility very seriously, acting like a true senior resident, weaving in and out among the crowd of new children. I watched him comfort one crying toddler, hand a piece of candy to another, and pump his little fist, swearing that this was the absolute best home in the world. I couldn’t help but laugh. That afternoon, I put the kids down for their naps. Robin was clearly too excited to sleep. He even leaned in and whispered to me, “Miss Ellie, out of all the new kids today, I like Caleb the most. He’s so cool!” Me: “Oh? Is that so?” The name Caleb Thorne… why did it sound so familiar? I looked at the birthmark on the little boy named Caleb’s face and finally remembered: Wasn’t this Robin’s future mortal enemy, the terrifying mob boss Caleb Thorne?! Me: Looks like I need to move the legal and ethics classes up the schedule. Right now, Caleb was incredibly timid. He kept his head down and rarely spoke. Because of the large birthmark on his face and some minor developmental delays, his biological parents had abandoned him. Abandonment is a felony. Seeing the deep insecurity and sadness in Caleb’s eyes, I pulled Robin aside. He must have heard my internal thoughts, because his face crumpled into a sad expression. He said gloomily, “Miss Ellie, did Caleb’s mommy and daddy really not want him?” Robin, with his telepathy, never hid anything from me. But we had pinky-promised that his ability was our special secret. So I answered him seriously. “What his mommy and daddy did was very wrong. They broke the law, and they will be punished.” Robin looked confused but nodded. “I want to be his friend.” “Then take him out to the garden to play,” I suggested. “Didn’t you tell me yesterday that you wanted a friend to go on the seesaw with you?” Robin’s eyes lit up, but then he wilted again. “But it’s nap time right now.” “That’s okay, today is a special exception,” I ruffled his hair. “Robin, from now on, we are Caleb’s family. I want Caleb to be happy. Can you help me do that?” Robin puffed his chest out, full of energy. “I can!” I unlocked the garden doors, waved them out, and watched the two tiny silhouettes cheer quietly as they ran toward the seesaw in the sunlight. I walked back into the dormitory. Sure enough, a bunch of little heads quickly ducked back under their blankets. I stifled a laugh. “Can’t anyone sleep?” Dead silence. Only Chloe peeked her head out, pointing a tiny finger toward the garden window. “I want to play with Miss Ellie too,” she said in a babyish voice. “Then let’s all go out to the garden,” I smiled warmly. “But just remember, it’s nap time. This is a one-time exception, okay?” “Okay!” The previously anxious and rigid kids instantly lit up, responding in unison. Like a flock of happy little birds, they rushed out into the garden. I strolled leisurely behind them, chatting with Felix. [Why is their affection for you so high, Host? I’ve never seen a mission progress this fast…] “Have you ever heard a certain story?” I thought for a moment. “A demon sealed in a bottle once promised that whoever freed him would be granted infinite power and wealth. But when a fisherman finally found him centuries later, the demon had grown resentful. He decided to punish the fisherman because he had taken too long to arrive.” [That story is in my database.] “Love works the same way,” I said calmly. “Winning someone’s heart is essentially an exchange. You give love, you receive love. But if someone goes their entire childhood starved of affection, do you really think some calculated, impure affection later in life will win them over? If I had shown up when Robin was fifteen or sixteen, there is absolutely no way I could have ever competed with Chloe, who would have grown up beside him.” [So you chose the one-year-old timeline purely to guarantee the mission’s success?] “Not entirely.” I smiled, scooping up a little girl who ran toward me, gently patting her head. “I just wanted to teach you something.” [What is it?] “The word ‘romance’ or ‘capture’ is far too narrow,” I said. “There are so many different kinds of love in this world. Teaching them what true love looks like—that counts as winning their hearts, too.” [Host, you really are different from anyone else I’ve ever met.] “How many people have you actually met? To me, you’re just a kid too,” I sat on a swing, holding the little girl in my lap. “Maybe in your System’s background check, they saw that ‘nurturing’ was my actual profession—and that’s why you chose me.” [Wait, what did you do for a living before?] Felix sounded confused. [But so many people loved you in your old world, Host.] “Did they?” I paused, letting out a very soft laugh. “I used to work in special education.” I was the undeniable black sheep of the Vance family. All my siblings had grand ambitions; they either took over corporate empires or became shining stars in the art world. I was the only one who buried myself in a tiny, rural town, volunteered as a teacher for years, then transferred to a special-needs school, and finally just opened my own foster home. Most orphans are not perfectly healthy children. They often carry various physical or psychological traumas. At first, when my family came to visit me, they would be horrified by the occasional bruises or scratches on my arms. They asked me more than once, “Eleanor Vance, have you completely lost your mind?” Outsiders understood it even less. The Vance children were raised in the lap of luxury. Why did Eleanor turn out so thoroughly devoid of aristocratic grace? But in a person’s life, there are always one or two defining moments that completely change who they are. I had no intention of judging what was “noble” or “low-class,” nor did I want to use grandiose words to prove how “transcendent” I was. In truth, I was just an incredibly ordinary person among the masses who happened to choose this specific path. So, I brushed off their doubts and mockery with a simple smile. “Just like the rest of you, I’m just doing what I want to do.” Felix asked me, [So, what was the event that completely changed you?] “Who knows,” I said. “My childhood memories are pretty blurry now. But there must have been something like that.” Actually, I did remember. I remembered when my elite private school held a charity event. We dressed up in our fancy little dresses and tailored suits and went to the special education school next door to hand out gifts. But we didn’t actually meet a single student that day. I overheard their teachers saying they were worried the kids might hurt us, so they locked them all in their dormitories. We just placed books and clothes on their empty desks, took some PR photos, and prepared to leave. I saw a book sitting on one of the desks. It was a fairy tale book, and scrawled on the cover in crooked handwriting was a single line: Timmy asked, what do stars look like? I want to know too. Do they taste like candy? In that fairy tale, the stars in the sky were all made of candy. Could Timmy not see the stars? And what about the owner of the book—had he never tasted candy? I looked down at my pristine, expensive dress, reached into my pocket, and struggled to pull out a single piece of candy. I quietly slipped it inside the pages of the book. Before we left, I glanced back at the dormitory building. I saw a few smudged, dirty little faces pressed against the windows, watching us. I suddenly felt incredibly sad. I had only brought one piece of candy, and I had only left one. I could only let one child taste the stars. 04 I spent the next week working non-stop. The arrival of the new kids brought life and vitality to this small patch of land, but it also brought a mountain of new responsibilities. From things as small as choosing the brand of milk the kids drank, to things as massive as hiring new teachers—as a one-woman management team, I had to handle everything personally. Thankfully, I had the ultimate cheat code, Felix. He helped me monitor the children’s status to prevent any accidents. Otherwise, even if I split myself into three people, I wouldn’t have been able to keep up. Our home wasn’t huge. I had already hired cooks, cleaners, nurses, and care aides. But the role of academic educators was crucial, especially since I planned to set up actual classes soon. I needed people who were absolutely reliable. After several rounds of interviews, I finally found someone who perfectly matched what I was looking for. She was a girl who, based purely on looks, could have been a movie star. She was young, with a neat bob cut, bright eyes, a gentle personality, and a small red mole near the corner of her eye. Honestly, I could tell her family was probably quite wealthy. From her elegant speech to her natural grace, she gave off the aura of a girl who had been cherished her entire life. Yet, her skin was tanned, and her cheeks carried the distinct, rosy flush of someone who had spent a lot of time working outdoors under the harsh sun. “My name is Clara Hayes,” the girl said, her eyes shining like stars. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Miss Vance.” I reached out and shook her hand. “Welcome aboard, Clara.” Clara’s hiring freed up a lot of my time to focus on getting the kids’ education sorted out. Well-funded orphanages usually had their own on-site classrooms, while smaller ones sent the kids to local public schools. Considering the special needs of several of our children, I decided to set up separate, in-house classes for them. After finalizing the paperwork, Clara and I hired a few more subject teachers and officially launched the in-house curriculum. Since we didn’t have that many kids, we only formed one main class. We held a democratic vote for the name, and the kids loved the word “Seedlings.” And just like that, Haven Children’s Home’s very first class, the Seedlings Class, was born. I was highly experienced in this field, and Clara had clearly done extensive homework, so the classes ran incredibly smoothly. In early childhood development, the priority isn’t just cramming facts; it’s about building good habits and forming healthy personalities. I set up a Storytime class, reading them a new fairy tale every single day. In the world of fairy tales, the storm always passes, the villains always lose, the princess meets her prince, the ugly duckling becomes a beautiful swan, and the little animals you save always return to repay your kindness. Life is obviously more than just fairy tales. Maybe when they grow up, they’ll realize the world isn’t exactly like the stories. But I still wanted them to believe in the magic of those tales for now. However, right after my Storytime, Clara would come in to teach Safety Education. While you shouldn’t harbor malicious intent toward others, you must always stay guarded. I could teach them to be kind to the world, but someone also needed to teach them that not everyone is kind. They needed to learn to be vigilant and know how to protect themselves. I appointed Robin as the Class President of the Seedlings Class. The little boy immediately awakened to a fierce sense of “civic duty,” dedicating every day to maintaining peace and harmony in the classroom. The little president was usually brimming with fighting spirit, but occasionally, he faced setbacks. Like today. “Miss Ellie, Caleb cried today,” he said, resting his chin gloomily on my knee. “I heard him thinking about why his mommy and daddy didn’t want him.” Ever since Caleb moved into the home, he had become much more cheerful, but sometimes, in the late afternoons, he would still cry secretly. Robin couldn’t solve his friend’s emotional distress, so he came to me for advice. When I told Robin his story, I said his mother loved him very much. Because of that, Robin couldn’t comprehend why Caleb’s parents would abandon their own child. I rubbed Robin’s head gently. “Robin, people are all different. Some parents… just don’t love their children.” Robin pursed his lips. “Then why did they have him?” “There are many reasons, and we can’t always know them. But what I want to tell you is that Caleb’s parents abandoning him is a crime,” I said. “There are a lot of abandoned children in this world. Caleb is lucky to have a friend like you to care about him, but many other kids don’t even have friends.” Robin’s dark eyes went wide. “Really?” “Yes,” I offered him a suggestion. “When you get a little older, you and Caleb can work together to protect all the kids out there who are just like him.” Robin listened intently, stood up, and his little feet pitter-pattered toward the door. “I’m going to tell Caleb! Bye, Miss Ellie!” I smiled warmly. “Go on, Robin.” In truth, in the original novel, Caleb was fiercely protective of his people. The subordinates in his mafia syndicate were mostly street orphans—kids without parents. I didn’t believe that was a coincidence. Even though the photos from the plot files showed a terrifying man with a birthmark and eyes devoid of emotion, perhaps, in his own lonely childhood, he had desperately craved that exact kind of protection. They say that the things people do as adults are often ways to overcompensate for their childhood traumas. I thought to myself: At the very least, Caleb definitely isn’t going to become a mob boss this time around.

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When I opened my eyes and realized I had been reborn right before the start of spring break, the very first thing I did was decisively quit the research lab I had poured years of my life into. Because I knew exactly what was coming. In just a few days, Wyatt, the golden boy junior researcher, would flagrantly violate safety protocols and cross-contaminate our most critical biological samples. In my past life, out of the goodness of my heart, I rushed back to the lab to clean up his mess and painstakingly rerun the control experiments. Against all odds, I successfully saved the multi-million dollar federal project. But when the oversight board came looking for someone to blame, Wyatt completely twisted the truth and framed me. “It was Nathan! He was messing with the calibration on the equipment and almost destroyed all of our experimental results!” Professor Sylvia and the rest of the lab swallowed his lies without a second thought, condemning me on the spot. I had absolutely nowhere to turn. My hard-earned reputation was violently shredded, and I became an academic outcast hunted by public outrage. Every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears I had poured into my entire life evaporated into thin air. Driven into a state of absolute mental collapse, I lost my footing on the roof of the science building and plunged to my death. Now that the universe has given me a second chance, I am cutting the cord. I am walking away from their toxic, venomous web before it can drag me under again. 1 When I handed the transfer request to Professor Sylvia, her beautifully shaped eyebrows twitched in surprise. “Nathan,” she said, her tone dripping with disbelief. “Do you have any idea what you are doing?” My expression didn’t change. I was as calm as a frozen lake. “I do. This is a decision I made after very careful consideration.” Sylvia looked me up and down, a mocking smirk curling her lips. “This is about Wyatt, isn’t it?” I blinked, genuinely confused for a second. Sylvia leaned back in her plush leather chair and sighed as if she were dealing with a petulant child. “Wyatt joined the lab after you did. I know that. But his natural talent for research is miles ahead of yours, and frankly, he is much better at working with people.” “You are just jealous of him, and that’s why you are throwing this little tantrum and trying to leave.” Hearing her absurd accusation, I didn’t even get mad. I just gave a tired, dry chuckle. The core bottlenecks of this project? The agonizingly complex control experiments? I was the one who stayed up for five straight days, fueled entirely by black coffee and sheer willpower, to crack them. I was the first to admit I wasn’t some once-in-a-generation genius. But Wyatt? Please. Both my actual talent and my insane dedication to this lab were lightyears beyond anything he could ever manage. The only thing Wyatt excelled at was playing the charming golden boy. He knew exactly how to suck up to people, and both the other lab members and our professor absolutely adored him. Every single time I broke my back compiling flawless data sets or designing a brilliant new testing protocol, Wyatt would swoop in, slap his name on it, and take all the credit. It wasn’t like I had never fought back. But whenever I did, Wyatt would just widen his eyes and play the innocent victim. And Sylvia would immediately turn on me, her voice sharp with disappointment. “Nathan, why do you always have to be so glory-hungry?” “Are you really not going to be satisfied until you steal every single ounce of credit for yourself?” Because of that, I stopped defending myself. I just became quieter, swallowing the injustice to keep the peace. It took dying once for me to finally wake up. They didn’t believe me because they had already decided I was the villain from day one. So no matter how loudly I screamed the truth, it was totally useless. “Yep, you are totally right. You nailed it,” I said, leaning against her desk and shrugging indifferently. Seeing that I was totally unfazed by her scolding, Sylvia sneered. She grabbed her expensive fountain pen, slashed her signature across the transfer form, and slammed her official stamp onto the paper. As I turned to leave, she called out to me, her tone condescending. “Nathan, since I have been your mentor for so long, I will give you one last bit of grace.” “I will give you exactly three days. If you realize what a massive mistake you are making, you can come back and withdraw this application.” “I won’t,” I replied without a second of hesitation. Right at that moment, a head popped through the doorway. It was Wyatt. His eyes were gleaming with obvious excitement, but he immediately forced his face into a mask of tragic heartbreak. “Oh no, Nathan! Why are you leaving? Did I do something to upset you?” I completely ignored him. I reached into my leather satchel and pulled out a thick stack of manila folders, my fingers lightly brushing over the heavy paper. This massive, state-of-the-art laboratory was currently housing a top-tier, federally funded research initiative. Sylvia had basically bet her entire academic reputation and pulled every shady string she had to secure this grant. If this project went down in flames, every single person in this lab would watch their academic careers turn to ash. Their evaluations, their funding, their chances at top Ph.D. programs—gone. But the person who would suffer the most was the lead researcher: Sylvia herself. If the project crashed, the federal oversight committee would descend like vultures. Not only would she be stripped of her research credentials for life, but there was a massive chance she would end up behind bars for academic fraud and gross negligence. In my past life, I knew exactly how devastating the fallout would be. I knew no one in the lab could survive it. So, like an absolute fool, I sacrificed my hard-earned vacation and rushed back to fix the mess. I stayed awake for nearly a week straight, violently dragging the doomed project back from the brink of total annihilation. And my reward? They completely destroyed my reputation and drove me to my death. Now that I had a second chance, I would rather die again than lift a single finger to save these vultures. Wyatt had already walked up to me, still yapping about how sad he was. I kept ignoring him. I kept my face dead blank as I meticulously laid the folders out on Sylvia’s desk. Inside those folders was every single piece of experimental data I had handled over the past few years. The raw data. The backup footage. The logbooks. Every single page was clearly dated and signed by the person who actually performed the work. Wyatt stared at the folders, looking a bit confused. He didn’t have high-level clearance. He wasn’t even qualified to turn on half the multi-million-dollar machines in this room. I was the only one who had executed the high-risk protocol runs. I had spent weeks carefully backing up and categorizing every piece of proof. Every number, every signature, every single comma in those files was ironclad evidence. It was my ultimate insurance policy. 2 “Professor,” I said, tapping my finger on the top document—the official data handover receipt. “Please review everything. Once you confirm the files are complete, unaltered, and fully accounted for, sign the receipt for the official record.” This piece of paper was my shield. It proved that my exit from the lab was one hundred percent compliant with federal regulations. Clear boundaries. Clear accountability. Once I walked out that door, if this lab exploded or a single sample was compromised, it would have absolutely nothing to do with me. They would never be able to dump their dirty water on my head again. Sylvia looked down at the exhaustively detailed logs. Her brows furrowed, and a strange, uneasy look flickered in her eyes. Beside her, Wyatt’s fake smile stiffened. A cold prickle of anxiety suddenly crawled up his spine. Sylvia hesitated for a long time. Finally, she picked up her pen, signed her full name on the handover receipt, pressed her thumbprint over the ink, and stamped both copies. “Fine. Since you are so damn stubborn, I agree. It is better to have the liability lines clearly drawn anyway.” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. I picked up my copy of the receipt, carefully sliding it into a protective sleeve in my bag. With my insurance secured, I dropped the polite facade. I turned to walk away, my tone freezing cold. “Good. From this second forward, I have absolutely nothing to do with any of you.” Wyatt finally snapped out of his daze and reached out, grabbing my forearm. “Nathan, you are being so impulsive!” “Aren’t you happy? Haven’t you been trying to get rid of me this whole time?” I violently ripped my arm out of his grip. Wyatt’s smile vanished. His face flushed with anger, and he glared at me with pure venom. Then, he quickly turned to Sylvia, lifting his chin with a look of overwhelming arrogance. “Don’t worry, Professor. We will be fine without Nathan. From now on, I will personally shoulder the responsibility of pushing the project forward.” He puffed out his chest, trying to look like the brilliant hero stepping up to save the day. Deep down, Wyatt was absolutely thrilled that I was leaving. It meant my spot was empty. It meant that every single future breakthrough and all the project glory would land directly in his lap. I actually laughed out loud. Sylvia was always busy attending conferences and rubbing shoulders with donors. I was the one who had practically spoon-fed Wyatt every ounce of knowledge he had in this lab. Did this idiot honestly believe he could run the project on his own? Sylvia nodded, looking incredibly touched. “Good. I am glad you have that kind of dedication. Try not to be like some people who run away the second things get a little difficult.” She threw a disgusted glance in my direction. In her eyes, I was as boring and tasteless as a glass of lukewarm water. I was nowhere near as clever or charming as Wyatt. She had always hated looking at me, so my voluntary exit was a total blessing for her. I took in both of their reactions and just smiled. Yep. That was exactly what this team was. They were so blinded by Wyatt’s sweet, innocent act that they were completely blind to the fact that I was the one keeping this lab from collapsing. If I even tried to defend myself, they would call me selfish. I was done wasting my breath on them. I shoved past Wyatt and walked out the door. As I walked down the hall, a few other lab members saw me carrying my things. They laughed and waved. “Wow, Nathan, you are actually bailing?” “Yeah, the project is basically in the final stages. Don’t you think it’s a massive waste to run away now?” “Are you just throwing a tantrum because the Professor likes the new kid more than you?” I focused entirely on packing up the rest of my desk, refusing to even look at them. In my past life, these exact people had enthusiastically helped push me off the ledge. But the twisted part was, before Wyatt joined the lab, these guys had genuinely looked out for me. Maybe it was because I was the youngest guy in the room at the time, but they used to treat me like a little brother. But slowly, over time, everything turned toxic. Once my box was packed, I grabbed it and headed for the exit. The moment my foot crossed the threshold of the building, a massive, suffocating weight vanished from my chest. I felt like I could finally breathe. But I didn’t even make it across the courtyard before two armed campus security officers stepped into my path. “Hold it right there!” I frowned, genuinely confused. But a second later, I knew exactly what was going on. 3 Wyatt strolled out from behind the officers, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on his face. “Nathan, you know this is a federally funded, highly classified project. The security protocols are extremely strict.” He paused, letting his eyes drop pointedly to the cardboard box in my arms. Then, he dramatically raised his voice, ensuring that every researcher and student walking through the courtyard stopped to watch. “Nathan, you are leaving so suddenly. I am just really worried you might accidentally take some classified documents with you. Please cooperate with security and let them search your things.” He didn’t even try to sugarcoat it. He was dragging me out into the town square and lighting the fire under my feet. He was publicly accusing me of corporate espionage. My grip on the cardboard box tightened, my eyes turning to ice. “There were at least a dozen people watching me pack my desk. I didn’t have the opportunity to steal a single paperclip, let alone classified data.” I swept my gaze over the crowd of my former lab mates standing nearby. Every single one of them immediately looked away, completely silent. I didn’t get mad. I already knew these cowards wouldn’t say a word to defend me. I looked up and saw Sylvia hurrying over, drawn by the commotion. “Professor,” I called out loudly. “Twenty minutes ago, while sitting directly in front of you, I completed a full handover of every single piece of data and equipment I was responsible for.” “The raw data logs and the federal compliance records were perfectly accounted for. You personally signed and stamped the receipt confirming I left nothing behind and took nothing with me.” “And now, with absolutely zero evidence, you are demanding a public search of my personal belongings? I have every right to believe this is targeted harassment.” My mind was working at lightning speed. Since I had already died once because of this lab, I took federal security protocols more seriously than God himself. I had to ensure my reputation remained absolutely spotless. I couldn’t give them a single thread to pull. If I simply bowed my head and let them humiliate me by ripping through my private belongings in the middle of a crowd, the rumor mill would destroy my career regardless of what they found. Sylvia choked on her words. Her face hardened into an ugly scowl. “Enough, Nathan! Your junior colleague has reasonable suspicions. What is the big deal if you just cooperate?” I stared at Wyatt for a long time. Seeing the smug, untouchable arrogance radiating from his eyes, I let out a sharp laugh. “Wyatt does not have security clearance to authorize an audit. Ordering armed guards to detain a researcher who has already completed a legally binding handover is a massive abuse of power and targeted harassment.” The moment I said that, the crowd’s energy shifted. People started looking at Wyatt differently. Wyatt’s face turned bright red. He waved his hands frantically, playing the victim. “Nathan, no! I swear I didn’t mean it like that! I was just terrified something bad would happen! I only did it because I care so much about the project…” I was completely exhausted by his pathetic acting. I took a step forward, holding my box out toward the head security officer. “I will comply with the search. But I have two demands.” “First, the entire search must be recorded on bodycam. Second, when you inevitably find absolutely zero classified material in my possession, you are required to report this incident directly to the Federal Security Bureau and the University’s Academic Integrity Board.” Wyatt froze completely, sheer panic flashing across his eyes. I looked up, making sure the entire crowd heard me loud and clear. “If we really care about preventing data leaks, the board should be investigating the lab’s internal handover procedures and security authorization logs. Not digging through my gym clothes.” Wyatt was just a junior researcher with basic clearance. For him to illegally summon armed guards to detain a colleague was a massive breach of protocol. The only reason the guards actually listened to him was because he had clearly invoked Sylvia’s name to give his orders weight. But if this actually went to the federal board, things would get extremely ugly. There was no physical way Wyatt could have secured an official written mandate from Sylvia in the ten minutes since I left her office. Which meant Wyatt had flagrantly impersonated a lead researcher and abused federal security resources. And me? I had officially surrendered my clearance and handed over all materials twenty minutes ago. Legally, I was totally untouchable. If this got kicked up to the feds, Wyatt would be absolutely butchered. He might even get permanently expelled and blacklisted. 4 The crowd’s whispers grew louder, the stares aimed at Wyatt turning incredibly suspicious. Some people actually started speaking up for me. “Honestly, Nathan doesn’t seem like the type to steal classified data.” “Yeah. If his handover paperwork is legally sound, what the hell are they even suspecting him of?” “Why is this Wyatt kid going after Nathan so hard? Does he actually have proof, or is this just malicious bullying?” All the color drained from Wyatt’s face. He looked like a ghost. He shot a desperate, terrified look at Sylvia. “Professor, I swear I didn’t mean anything malicious! I was just trying to protect…” He was still trying to play the innocent card, but I wasn’t going to let him. Before Sylvia could open her mouth to yell at me again, I placed my cardboard box squarely on the concrete. Right in front of dozens of people, I pulled my things out one by one and handed them to the armed officers. A water bottle. A gym towel. A few extra T-shirts. My electric razor. It was just a pathetic pile of totally normal, boring things. After about ten minutes of thorough searching, the officers looked at each other and shook their heads. The lead officer turned to me, looking deeply embarrassed. “I apologize. Wyatt told us Professor Sylvia had declared a code-red emergency.” “We reacted to the perceived threat without waiting for the official authorization paperwork. That was our failure.” He gave me a stiff, respectful nod. I nodded back. Then, the officer turned slowly to face Wyatt. His voice was like a block of ice. “We have completed the search. Per protocol, we will now be escalating this incident to the Federal Security Bureau exactly as Nathan requested.” The courtyard went dead silent. Hundreds of eyes locked onto Wyatt. It was painfully obvious to everyone now. This wasn’t about security. This was a targeted, malicious hit job. Wyatt’s face burned a humiliating crimson. The look he shot me was so full of venom it was practically glowing. Sylvia looked absolutely humiliated. She glared at me like she wanted me dead, then turned on her heel and stormed away. I packed my boring things back into the box, picked it up, and didn’t spare Wyatt a second glance as I walked away. Everyone in that courtyard thought I was throwing my life away by quitting the lab. They all thought I was destined to fail, that I would never land a decent research project again. They were eagerly waiting to watch me burn. Later that night, Wyatt actually had the nerve to tag me in the massive university group chat. “Nathan, if you ever struggle to find work, just let me know.” “Since we used to be in the same lab, I wouldn’t mind doing you a favor and helping you out.” I raised an eyebrow and let my thumbs fly across the keyboard. “You should probably focus on surviving the federal disciplinary hearing for impersonating a lead researcher and abusing armed security first.” I hit send. The massive group chat instantly died. Half the people in there had no idea what went down in the courtyard. I wasn’t in a rush to explain. A second later, Wyatt’s private messages flooded my screen. He was completely unhinged. “What the hell are you so arrogant about?! As long as Sylvia has my back, nothing is going to happen to me!” “You are just a pathetic loser running away with your tail between your legs! You have absolutely no right to talk down to me!” “Look at how miserable your life is. Even though I joined the lab after you, the second I say you are bullying me, every single person takes my side.” I lowered my eyes, staring at the screen. I honestly couldn’t comprehend why he hated me so much. When he first joined, I did everything in my power to take care of him. We were the only two guys our age in Sylvia’s entire lab. I thought we were a team. I practically held his hand through his first six months. Wyatt clearly sensed my silence, and another message popped up. “Nathan, I absolutely despise that stupid, calm look on your face. I hate how you act like nothing bothers you.” “More importantly, I demand that all the attention in the room be on me. I am supposed to be the golden boy. You were just in my way.” I didn’t reply. I just locked my phone. A strange sense of peace washed over me. So that was it. I didn’t waste another second thinking about him. Since I suddenly had a ton of free time, I booked a flight to Bali for a mini-vacation. Halfway through my trip, I logged into the university portal and saw a massive, campus-wide disciplinary notice. [Wyatt violated federal security protocols. He bypassed the authorization board, invoked a lead researcher’s name to illegally deploy armed security, and maliciously defamed a colleague in public.] Wyatt was stripped of all academic awards and stipends for the current year and the next two years. He was also ordered to submit a ten-thousand-word public apology letter. The moment the notice hit the server, the entire university went into an uproar. I smiled, taking a slow sip of my cocktail while staring at the crystal blue ocean. I let out a long, satisfied breath. Just then, my phone rang. It was an unknown number. I answered it. “Nathan, hello. This is Professor Evelyn.” “I have spent the last few days reviewing your publication history and raw data logs. Your work is absolutely brilliant.” “My lab is currently desperate for someone with your specific skillset to lead our core experimental division. Would you be interested in joining us?” My heart slammed against my ribs. Professor Evelyn was an absolute god in our field. Her lab was the undeniable gold standard across the entire country. I had never, in my wildest dreams, imagined that someone of her caliber would personally extend an olive branch to me. In my past life, I was so blinded by my stupid loyalty to Sylvia’s toxic lab that I completely missed out on opportunities like this. I fought to keep my voice steady. “Thank you so much for the opportunity, Professor Evelyn. I would be incredibly honored to join your team.” But before I could even finish celebrating, my phone started ringing again. It was Wyatt. His voice was completely frantic, bordering on hysterical. “Nathan! Something went wrong! You have to come back to the lab right now!”

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My lover has paranoia. He imagines that I am his nemesis, his mortal enemy, the person he despises most in this world. Day after day, I play along with his delusions. Until one day, I couldn’t play the part anymore. I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. 1 The house was pitch-black when I got home. I set my bag down, kicked off my shoes, and trailed my hand along the wall, slowly feeling my way through the dark. The moment my fingers brushed the light switch, a ceramic plate came flying at my head. I tilted my head, dodging it just in time. The lights flickered on. A man stood on the staircase, staring down at me with an entirely expressionless face. “So you still know how to come back.” “…” I smiled, walking toward him. I reached out and wrapped my arms around his waist. “Can you stop acting like a bitter, neglected housewife, Ethan?” He smelled faintly of floral soap, a scent I specifically picked out for him. I always hoped it would somehow neutralize the freezing aura he radiated. But it never did. The way he looked at me was still full of absolute disgust. 2 The crystal chandelier cast fragmented, glittering light across the room. Yet, the brightly lit living room felt agonizingly cold, and the man sitting right beside me offered no warmth at all. I rested the iPad on my lap, swiping through the pages to show him. “Look at this for our wedding. Should I wear this one?” “The skirt is a mermaid design.” “It’s so pretty, like liquid light slipping right over the fabric.” “Oh, and I love this one too. The veil has a starry night design, just like the time you took me to see the—” A sharp scoff cut off my words. He lifted his gaze, his dark, pitch-black eyes staring dead into mine. “Did we even have a past?” I wanted so desperately to tell the man in front of me that yes, we did. We had so many beautiful, wonderful memories together. But the man in front of me only saw me as an unforgivable, heinous villain. He gripped my chin, his thumb pressing into my skin, and landed a kiss at the corner of my lips. His cold voice carried a ripple of deliberate, elegant seduction. “Be a good girl. Give me the medicine.” 3 The only reason Ethan Hayes listened to me at all was that I held the one thing he desperately craved. If he ever bothered to look through the Seattle Police Department’s internal reports from a few years ago, he would be shocked to find his own name listed under both “Narcotics Commendations” and “Injured in the Line of Duty.” Ethan got hooked on drugs while working deep undercover. And after his undercover days ended, he developed severe paranoid psychosis. Delusional disorder. He categorized almost everyone around him as the enemy—including me. Including the woman he once said he loved the most, the woman he swore to protect with his life. That gentle man was long gone, dragged down into a living hell. His eyes, when he looked at me, were like thousand-year-old ice caves. The bedroom light was dim. I gripped his collar. Even though I had him pinned beneath me, his gaze remained entirely unfazed. Even tainted by addiction, he still looked as pure and untouchable as a god looking down from above. Just the slight curve of his lips was mesmerizing. I leaned down, wanting to kiss him, but with a sudden, practiced twist of his hips, he flipped me over and pinned me to the mattress. He dug into my chest pocket for a moment and pulled out the syringe. With practiced ease, he injected it right into his right arm. … To him, that syringe was his heroin. But it wasn’t. It was a specially formulated psychiatric medication laced with heavy sedatives. You can’t cure a severe addiction overnight; you have to slowly taper the dosage. Lying there, I suddenly understood exactly why he hated me so much. Because, in his eyes… I wasn’t his devoted lover. I was the monster who got him hooked on drugs, the dealer who kept him on a leash by dangling a pathetic little fix in front of him every single day… Just a villain. 4 I had a dream. I dreamed of a few years ago, back when Ethan was still deep undercover. I went to see him on Christmas Eve. We navigated through the thick holiday crowd, only able to truly look at each other while hiding behind the cover of a newspaper. He had both hands shoved in his pockets, leaning lazily against the railing like he didn’t have a bone in his body. Ethan was a gorgeous man. Even a slight smirk made him look dangerously handsome, drawing the eyes of two young women nearby. Right in front of me, he whistled at the two girls. I kicked him in the shin. He let out a dramatic “Ow!” and lowered his voice, leaning in. “Honey, I gotta play the part, right?” He was already starting to carry the grimy, dangerous aura of the criminal underworld, but his eyes were still so clear. The sound of Jingle Bells drifted through the air. He tilted his head back, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Just one more year, they always say. Then another, then another.” It was a line reminiscent of our favorite mob movies. He turned his head, our eyes meeting only through our reflections in the glass pane beside us. “When am I finally going to be able to marry you, Claire?” … I lowered the newspaper and walked past him, our shoulders just barely brushing. “Finish the job. I’m waiting for you.” … He finished the job, but I never got to marry him. When I woke up the next morning, the space next to me in bed was cold and empty. I knew he hated me, that he despised sharing a bed with me. But when I hurried downstairs and couldn’t find him anywhere, a blind panic set in. I tore through every room in the house. He was gone. I tried calling a friend, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone. He was nowhere. I squatted on the floor, clutching my head. Lately, I had been getting these splitting headaches whenever I tried to focus or think too hard. The throbbing pain made my vision blur, but the agonizing anxiety of losing him was far worse. I frantically typed out a text, on the verge of begging my old colleagues at the precinct to run a search. My heart hammered against my ribs, burning hotter and hotter—until a pair of white sneakers stepped into my line of sight. “What are you doing?” The voice was steady, as cold and indifferent as ever. Ethan wasn’t Ethan anymore, yet he was still Ethan. It was just that this detached, icy man standing in front of me could never be reconciled with the sunny, teasing boy in my memories. I stood up and threw my arms around him. I don’t know why, but I loved hugging him. It felt like, if I just held him tightly enough, I could transfer my body heat to him—even if he never hugged me back. “I thought you left, Ethan.” He took a step back, smoothly peeling my arms off him. “I was just out in the back watering the plants.” “…” I smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “What do you want for dinner tonight? I’ll make you—” “Drop the fake act. You don’t even let me out the front door.” He cut me off, snatched a book off the dining table, and walked upstairs. I didn’t let Ethan leave the house because I was terrified of cartel remnants coming after him for revenge. But the more I protected him… The more he felt like a white dove trapped in a cage. And the more he hated me. 5 I went to the hospital for a full-body scan. The headaches had been getting significantly worse over the last few days. I was never someone who liked hospitals, but ever since Ethan’s incident, I had become hyper-vigilant about my health. I was terrified that if I died, there would be no one left to take care of him. He would be left to suffer in his personal hell all alone. At least while I was here, I could sit in the flames with him. Ethan lived in hell. When he was first diagnosed with his delusions, his psychiatrist pulled me aside. He told me that the reason Ethan constantly pushed me away was because, deep in his subconscious, he believed that as a junkie, he was no longer worthy of me. The cartel boss had forced him to test the product. Forced him to shoot up. He had no choice. A decorated cop, turned into a heroin addict. That was Ethan’s personal hell. I couldn’t drag him out of it, but I could stay in the dark with him. The test results wouldn’t be ready for a while, so on my way home, aside from picking up groceries, I bought a bouquet of baby’s breath. When Ethan was undercover, he used to send me flowers all the time. He couldn’t send them to my real address, so he sent them to our secret spot. Ethan’s handwriting was terrible, but he tirelessly wrote little notes on the cards anyway. Short, sweet little love letters. “I’m no poet, Claire, otherwise I’d write you the moon.” “Watched the sunset today. It wasn’t a fraction as pretty as it is when you’re here.” “The wind blew off the lake, and the wind told me I miss you.” “Claire, seriously, I miss you so damn much.” “…” I could perfectly picture the scene. Him, stuck in some damp, miserable trap house under the cartel’s thumb. Tilting his head, leaning against a dirty windowsill, writing out these incredibly sappy lines. And then smiling to himself as he tucked them into the bright, blooming flowers. 6 Lately, even our home had stopped being a safe haven. Several luxury cars were parked outside my house. Holding the bouquet of baby’s breath, my heart plummeted like a stone the moment I saw the front door wide open. I kept telling myself to breathe, but a sudden, blunt force of pain slammed into my skull, forcing me to grip the doorframe to stay upright. Three men in black suits and sunglasses stood in the entryway. Sitting gracefully on my living room sofa was a woman. “Detective Vance. Even if you’re a cop, trespassing is still a crime.” I slowly set the flowers down on the entryway console and spoke to the woman on the couch. She tilted her head and offered a slow, deliberate smile. “Illegal imprisonment is also a crime. And you’re not a cop anymore, Claire.” “…” I was accusing her of breaking in; she was accusing me of locking Ethan up and restricting his freedom. Victoria Vance. The sole, precious daughter of the Seattle Police Commissioner, and my… rival. She loved Ethan, too. “I’m taking Ethan with me.” She raised her chin, looking down to casually inspect her flawless manicure. “Not happening.” I leaned heavily on the coffee table, glaring at her. “Why isn’t it happening? The department universally agrees that you are no longer capable of managing Ethan’s treatment. He’s been with you all this time, and he hasn’t improved at all.” “I have the best medical resources. The absolute best psychiatrists. Only with me can he get the care he—” “I am his fiancée.” I cut her off. The woman finally looked up at me, pure disdain reflecting beneath her immaculate makeup. “Says who? He didn’t marry you. Ethan never married you.” “He said he would.” “But now he hates you. Watch.” Victoria pulled a pocketknife from her coat and pressed it directly against my throat. She turned me to face the staircase. There, Ethan was slowly walking down. The man watched with a completely blank expression as Victoria held a blade to my neck. “See? Even if I killed you right here, he wouldn’t even blink.” It felt like she was choking me, whispering, Look. You gave him everything, and he threw it to the dogs. How good had I been to Ethan? I had practically carved out my own heart and handed it to him. Yet when my life was threatened, he didn’t even spare me a second glance. It felt like no matter how hard I tried, it was all useless. Then… I guess I just have to try harder. That was our promise. Ethan and I had promised we would never give up on each other. No matter what. Slowly, I brought my bare hand up and gripped the sharp edge of the blade. Victoria obviously didn’t really want to stab me; she visibly flinched and paused. “I am not letting you take Ethan.” In the silent, tense standoff, she suddenly laughed. “Fine. Then let’s play fair.” “Let Ethan choose. Whoever he chooses, he goes with.” “How about it?” … Ethan wasn’t an object. He wasn’t a prize to be won. After they finally left, I sat alone on the sofa. The lighting in the living room really was too dim. I needed to remember to buy new bulbs. I kept my head down until a shadow fell over me. He stood in front of me, his voice entirely flat and monotone. “They didn’t break in. I opened the door and let them inside.” “When she put that knife to your throat, I really didn’t feel a thing.” “…” Ethan knew exactly how to twist the knife into my heart. I looked up at him. Reflected in his pitch-black eyes, I saw just how utterly broken I looked. I asked him softly. “So you want to leave with her? Is that it?” “…” He didn’t answer. …Makes sense. To Ethan, leaving with Victoria was just trading one cage for another. What he didn’t know was that he himself was the cage. Dark, sunless, and full of endless torment.

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I trapped myself at that grave for six years. I thought that as long as I didn’t leave, my son’s name would stay engraved alongside mine forever. But with just one signature, Shaun made Veronica my son’s “mother.” Even when I fell down the steps, the woman he reached out to support was someone else. I picked up the blood-stained handwritten letter and finally understood. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand. He simply didn’t care. So I stopped fighting. I took my son’s memorial album, photos of the old gravestone, and the wedding ring that held the memory of our family of three. This time, I would be the one to leave first. Lena POV I had stayed by my son’s grave for so many years, only for Shaun to personally give my place as mother on the headstone to Veronica. When the cemetery called, I was packing things for the memorial service. The staff member said the old cemetery section’s registration and annual maintenance fees would be discontinued soon, and my child’s ashes were being relocated to the Shaw family plot. Gripping my phone, I asked, “Who signed off on this?” There was the sound of rustling papers on the other end, then a quiet voice. “Mr. Shaun Shaw.” I didn’t call Shaun. I put the keepsakes in a bag and went straight to the cemetery. At the management office, the staff member pushed documents across to me. The relocation application bore Shaun’s signature. The joint burial plot registration had been changed too. The adjacent burial plots I’d reserved for myself and my child for years had been cancelled. The new registration listed Shaun, Veronica, and my child. A family of three. When I reached the headstone draft, my fingers paused. Below my child’s name, the father’s line read Shaun Shaw. The mother’s line read Veronica Mann. I didn’t throw the documents or make a scene. I simply looked up and said, “I need copies of all of this.” The staff member saw how pale my face had gone and said softly, “Ms. Hayes, would you like to sit down for a moment?” I said, “No need.” I walked out of the management office with the copies and sat on a bench for a few minutes. Years ago, when we lost the baby, Shaun came with me to choose the cemetery. He personally confirmed the inscription and said the plot next to it was reserved for me. Whichever one of us died first would go keep our child company. Later, his visits became less and less frequent. Every year it was me who cleaned the headstone, me who came to remember him, me who left handwritten letters and memorial albums. I guarded that line naming both parents on the old stone like it was the last thing the Shaw family hadn’t taken from me and my child. Now with one signature, Shaun had made Veronica the mother. He’d even taken away the plot where I would have joined my child after death. “Lena Hayes.” Veronica emerged from the other side of the management office, also holding a headstone draft. She didn’t hide. Instead, she walked closer and held the draft up to my face. “You saw it too, didn’t you? The Shaw family has already accepted me. When the child is moved to the Shaw family plot, they can’t very well have an outsider like you presiding over memorial services anymore.” I looked up at her. “What right do you have to touch my son’s grave?” Veronica smiled slightly, her fingertip tapping the mother’s line. “Because Shaun agreed.” Her voice was airy. “He’s going to formalize things with me eventually. The past, people and matters alike, need to be sorted out in advance.” I took out my phone and called Shaun. He answered quickly. Shaun’s voice sounded the same as always. “Why the sudden call? Not feeling well?” I looked at the draft in Veronica’s hands and asked, “Where are you?” “At the office.” “Did you sign the relocation application?” Several seconds of silence. When Shaun spoke again, his tone had dropped. “Lena, we’ll talk about this at home. The Shaw family has arrangements to make. Don’t cause a scene at the cemetery.” I looked up. Shaun was walking out of the management office entrance, holding stamped documents. The phone was still pressed to my ear. He saw me too. His expression stiffened for a moment, then he hung up and strode over. “Get in the car first.” He reached for the copies in my hand. I stepped back. Shaun’s brow furrowed. “This is a cemetery. Don’t let the staff see us fighting.” I stared at him. “Why did you list Veronica as my son’s mother?” Shaun didn’t answer. He only said, “Moving him back to the Shaw family plot was going to happen eventually. Veronica will be joining the Shaw family in the future. The cemetery needs her to handle things.” “That child was born from my body.” Shaun seemed irritated by that statement. His voice grew heavy. “No one’s denying you gave birth to him. The headstone inscription is just an external arrangement. Stop torturing yourself over a child who’s already gone.” Veronica stood nearby, saying softly, “Shaun, don’t upset Lena. She just needs time to accept this.” The management office staff were still waiting by the entrance for him to confirm the service time. I put the copies in my bag and asked nothing more. I went to the old grave and photographed the original inscription, then set down my keepsakes. On the headstone, my name and Shaun’s were still engraved side by side beneath our child’s name. That was the last time. As I got in the car to leave, the door had just closed when I saw in the rearview mirror Shaun turning back to Veronica’s side.

Lena POV After returning home, I didn’t smash anything or wait for Shaun’s explanation. I backed up all the cemetery documents, old headstone photos, and new headstone drafts to the cloud, then sent them to a backup email. Then I pulled out my ID documents, bank cards, regular medications, and property documents, placing them one by one in the back of the drawer. This house still contained Shaun’s clothes, cups, and car keys. I gathered only what I absolutely needed to take when I left. That afternoon, Veronica sent photos. The first showed a Shaw family dinner. Shaun sat beside the family elders, Veronica on his other side, jewelry on her wrist, place cards on the table. The second was a close-up of the headstone draft. Veronica had circled the mother’s line and added a message: From now on I’ll accompany Shaun to memorial services. You won’t have to work so hard every year anymore. I looked at them, then saved the photos. Veronica wasn’t the only one stirring things up. The Shaw family had long since treated her as someone about to join the family. Even relocating the child had become part of establishing her position. That evening, Shaun came home. As he entered, he asked as usual, “Have you eaten?” He reached out to touch my hair. I turned aside to avoid him. Shaun’s hand froze mid-air, his expression souring. “About the cemetery, I shouldn’t have kept it from you today.” He said, “But moving back to the Shaw family plot has always been part of the family’s plans. I didn’t want you to keep suffering over the old grave every year.” I looked at him. “Was making Veronica the mother also for my benefit?” Shaun’s tone hardened. “Veronica will be part of the Shaw family eventually. The cemetery needs someone who can handle things long-term.” “So I’m not that person anymore?” Shaun frowned. “Lena, don’t overthink this. Everyone knows you gave birth to him.” “What good is knowing?” My voice wasn’t raised. “I won’t be on the headstone. My name won’t be on the service list either. When people come to pay respects in the future, they’ll only see you, Veronica, and the child.” Shaun grew irritated, loosening his tie. “What exactly do you want?” I didn’t argue further. I nodded once and turned to go upstairs. In the living room, Shaun’s phone lit up. Veronica messaged urging him to confirm the relocation service roster with the Shaw family tomorrow. Shaun glanced upstairs and replied with two words: Got it. The next day, I went to the bank. Money had been withdrawn from our joint account to cover Shaw family plot fees and the three-person burial registration. I printed the statement and retrieved documents from the safety deposit box. Just as I left the bank, Shaun’s assistant called. “Ms. Hayes, the Shaw family is hosting a dinner tonight. The family elders want to see you.” Holding that statement, I suddenly understood. This dinner wasn’t to acknowledge me. It was to make me stay quiet before Veronica joined the family and before the child’s relocation. That evening at the Shaw family dinner, Veronica sat beside Shaun’s mother. The family elders didn’t mention her relationship with Shaun directly, only saying, “Moving the child is the Shaw family’s decision. Stop blocking it. The person’s been gone for years. The living need to look forward.” Veronica kept her eyes lowered, her voice gentle. “Please rest assured, I’ll honor the child properly from now on.” Shaun spoke for me. “The service will proceed as planned.” I looked at each person at the table. They had already decided for me who would honor my child, how the inscription would read, whether I should appear. I didn’t make a scene at dinner. I only took a photo of the gathering before leaving. On the drive back, Shaun tried to smooth things over. “Once the relocation is finished, I’ll take you away for a break.” I didn’t ask if Veronica would be going. I had the driver stop by the roadside, saying I needed to buy something. After getting out, I went into a print shop and made another copy of the documents, statements, and cemetery papers. That night, Veronica’s call came through to Shaun’s phone. I stood at the staircase landing, hearing Veronica say, “Don’t let Lena go to the old cemetery section alone before the service. It’ll look bad if the family elders see.” Shaun lowered his voice. “I’ll watch her.” I didn’t walk out. I returned to my room, booked a train ticket for three days later, and messaged an old friend asking if I could stay temporarily in Boston. Downstairs, Shaun was still reassuring Veronica. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle things on her end.”

Lena POV I didn’t sleep all night. I enlarged the Shaw family dinner photo Veronica had sent and finally noticed a group photo in the corner. In it, Shaun stood beside his mother, Veronica on the other side, her face half-hidden by a flower arrangement, but the jewelry on her wrist identical to what she wore in today’s photo. I scrolled back through Veronica’s account. Two years ago, Veronica had already attended a Shaw family dinner. That day had been my child’s memorial day. Shaun said something urgent had come up and he couldn’t accompany me to the cemetery. I sat alone at the old grave until dark. When I returned home the food had gone cold, and he still hadn’t come back. That night Veronica had posted a photo. It showed fireworks outside a car window, captioned: Someone watched the most beautiful night view of the year with me. The hand visible inside the car wore the watch Shaun usually wore. I screenshot each one. When he said business dinner, Veronica was at the same private club. When he said business trip, Veronica was in the airport VIP lounge. When he said Shaw family matters were keeping him busy, Veronica had already accompanied him to celebrate a family elder’s birthday. By dawn, Shaun pushed open the study door to see the desk covered with printed screenshots. His expression darkened. “What have you been doing all morning?” I didn’t collect them. “Two years ago on the child’s memorial day, why didn’t you come home?” Shaun paused. “The Shaw family had something urgent come up.” I pushed the car window fireworks photo toward him. “This is what the Shaw family needed?” Shaun glanced at it, his tone cooling. “Lena, what’s the point of digging through all this? Veronica and I were just ordinary friends back then.” “That day was our child’s memorial day.” Shaun was silent for several seconds, finally only saying, “I don’t remember clearly.” I nodded and gathered the screenshots. The doorbell rang shortly after. Veronica stood at the entrance wearing the house slippers I kept by the door, holding a roster. She came in like the lady of the house and placed the roster on the coffee table. “Shaun, I’ve finished organizing the relocation service roster. There will be many family elders. If Lena attends, everyone will feel awkward.” I looked down. I wasn’t on the roster. I asked Shaun, “Is this what you want?” Veronica coughed lightly. “Lena, I’m just worried it would look bad if matters concerning the child caused trouble in front of the family elders. If you want to see him, you can go after the service ends. It’s the same thing.” Shaun looked at me. “Don’t go to the service for now. After the relocation, I’ll go with you privately.” I took out my phone and photographed the roster. Veronica’s eyes shifted. She walked to the cabinet and saw the duplicate memorial album I’d prepared for my child. She reached for it. I blocked her first. Veronica laughed. “I should keep these from now on. The mother’s name on the headstone is being changed. If you keep too much, it won’t look appropriate when outsiders see.” I held the memorial album to my chest. “Don’t touch my son’s things.” Veronica’s eyes immediately reddened as she turned to look at Shaun. Shaun frowned. “Lena, Veronica’s just trying to organize the service properly. Don’t treat her like an enemy.” I didn’t argue. I carried the memorial album upstairs. I placed the memorial album, old headstone photos, cemetery documents, Shaw family dinner photos, and Veronica’s old social media screenshots in the same document folder, then took out my wedding ring and bank card. The inside of the ring was engraved with Shaun’s and my initials, with our child’s birth month beside them. Downstairs, Shaun was still discussing seating arrangements with Veronica. I put the ring in the top of the document folder, locked it, and began packing the last batch of clothes. When Shaun came upstairs, I had just closed my suitcase. His expression changed. “What are you trying to pull now?” “Packing some clothes I don’t often use.” Shaun reached to open the case. I pressed down on the latch. “I’m packing my own things. Do you need to inspect those too?” Shaun stared at me. “Before the relocation service, you’d better not do anything that embarrasses the Shaw family.” Downstairs, Veronica was calling for him. Shaun glanced at me and turned to go downstairs. As soon as the door closed, I took the train ticket from the closet compartment and put it in the document folder.

Lena POV While Shaun was out, I took the document folder to the old cemetery section. I wanted to collect the things I’d left at my child’s grave over the years before the relocation. But when I reached the grave, it was already empty. The handwritten letters I’d left every year, duplicate memorial albums, old toys, keepsakes. All gone. Staff members were putting the last few items into bags. I hurried over. “Who told you to touch these?” The staff member looked helplessly toward the distance. Veronica stood there holding the new headstone draft. She walked over, her tone so light it sounded apologetic. “Lena, I’m just organizing the cemetery section in advance for the Shaw family. The family elders will all be here for the relocation. It wouldn’t look good for them to see these old things.” I looked at her. “Where are the memorial albums and handwritten letters?” “The staff collected them.” Veronica said, “Whether they can be retrieved depends on procedure.” I immediately turned to chase the waste collection truck. Behind me, Veronica said, “Once the child enters the Shaw family plot, memorial services can’t follow just your personal habits anymore.” She held the new headstone draft up to me. “Take another look. The mother’s line has been confirmed according to Shaun’s wishes.” I didn’t take it. I stopped the waste collection truck and had the staff dig out several creased memorial albums and a stack of handwritten letters. The albums contained the first version of my child’s old headstone photo and the words I’d written each year. Some pages had torn corners. I clutched the items to my chest, my fingertips trembling. Veronica followed. “It’s best not to bring these to the new cemetery section in the future. The Shaw family has its rules. You can’t just display any old papers and letters.” “Give them back.” I looked up at her. “Everything you had removed, give it all back to me.” Veronica didn’t return anything. She only said, “I’ll prepare a proper set of keepsakes later. I won’t let Shaun and the family lose face.” I stepped closer. “Veronica, touch my son’s things again and I won’t let you off.” Veronica’s eyes immediately reddened. She stepped back half a step, as if frightened. That’s when Shaun arrived. He saw me clutching the memorial albums, Veronica standing nearby trembling, the grave site in disarray. His first words were to Veronica. “Are you alright?” Veronica shook her head, her voice choking. “I’m fine. Lena probably still can’t accept the relocation.” I held the memorial albums up to Shaun. “Look closely. These are what I’ve written to our child over the years. She had people throw them in the waste collection truck.” Shaun only glanced at them before his frown deepened. “Clearing old items before relocation was always part of the plan. Veronica was just handling it in advance. Did you really need to make such a scene?” I looked at him. “The handwritten letters are part of procedure too?” Shaun fell silent, his tone suppressing impatience. “The child’s been gone for so many years. You staying trapped in these things isn’t good for anyone.” Veronica stood behind him, saying softly, “Lena, I’ll honor him properly for you from now on.” I smiled slightly. I asked Shaun, “You really want her to do what a mother should do in my place?” Shaun’s expression darkened. “Don’t say such ugly things at a cemetery. The service has been announced to the family elders. The roster has been sent out. If you make trouble now, you’ll only disturb the child’s rest.” I said nothing more. I put the recovered handwritten letters in my bag and photographed the cleared grave site and the waste truck number. Before leaving, I looked back at the old headstone. My name was still on it. But Shaun was already standing beside Veronica. He didn’t follow me.

Lena POV When I got home, I spread the recovered memorial albums on the table. Shaun followed me in. His first words weren’t to ask if I’d been frightened, but rather, “Stop going to the old cemetery section alone from now on. Don’t give Veronica and the family the wrong idea.” I pushed the memorial album toward him. “Do you remember the day we buried our child? The first letter. You personally placed it in the box at the grave.” Shaun looked at those crumpled pages, his expression pausing for a moment. I continued, “How can you let Veronica throw these things away now?” Shaun avoided my gaze. “She didn’t know about your past habits. I’ll have someone find everything that can be recovered.” “What about the relocation application? The mother’s inscription? The three-person burial registration? Which of those did she not know about?” Shaun grew impatient, his voice turning cold. “Moving the deceased child into the Shaw family plot has always been on the family’s agenda. The inscription and registration are for convenience in future memorial services.” I looked at him. “Convenient enough to remove me from being called mother?” Shaun tugged at his collar. “No one can change the fact that you gave birth to him. But headstones are for outsiders to see. The Shaw family needs to move forward too.” He spoke smoothly. As if all my years of memorial services, fee payments, and handwritten letters were just me unable to let go. “Veronica will spend her life with me from now on.” Shaun said. “You can’t demand that everyone stay stuck in the past.” I looked down and closed the memorial album page by page. Veronica’s video call came through at that moment. Shaun saw the incoming call and frowned, not answering. I said, “Answer it.” On screen, Veronica’s eyes were rimmed with red. Behind her were memorial flower baskets and place cards for the relocation service. “Shaun, I know Lena’s unhappy.” Her voice was so soft it sounded tearful. “If she really can’t accept it, I can keep a lower profile tomorrow. But all the family elders know I’ll be participating. If I suddenly don’t go, what will they think?” Shaun’s previously tense face quickly softened. Veronica continued, “I’m the one who’ll spend life with you from now on. If I can’t even participate in matters concerning the child, how will the Shaw family view me?” After a moment of silence, Shaun said, “Proceed as originally planned.” I stood right there watching him say it. After the video ended, I asked nothing more. I divided the items on the table into two portions. One contained cemetery documents, headstone drafts, burial plot registration, bank statements, Veronica’s old social media screenshots, and the service roster. The other held ID documents, train tickets, bank cards, and property documents. That evening, Shaun stayed in the study confirming the guest list. While he wasn’t in the bedroom, I put the last few clothes, regular medications, and documents in my suitcase. The train ticket was for two days later. Just in time to avoid the Shaw family dinner the day before the relocation service. The next day, I went to the cemetery management office to request a suspension of the relocation. After checking the system, the staff member said quietly, “Ms. Hayes, the Shaw family has already paid all fees and sent out service notifications. You can only submit an objection now. You can’t stop it on the spot.” I said, “Give me a receipt.” The receipt had just been handed to me when Shaun arrived. His expression was stormy. “Why are you still causing trouble at the cemetery?” “I’m only submitting an objection.” Shaun took the receipt and tore it up on the spot. “Proceed as planned,” he told the staff member. Paper scraps fell to the ground. I bent down and picked them up one by one. Seeing my action, Shaun’s tone softened. “After the relocation ends, I’ll go with you to the new cemetery section. I’ll also have Veronica stay out of matters concerning the child.” I put the scraps in my bag. “Once her name is carved on the stone, what’s the point of staying out of it then?” Shaun didn’t answer. His phone lit up again. Veronica was asking if the service flower arrangements needed changing. Shaun looked down to check. I smiled slightly and turned to leave the management office. After leaving the cemetery, I messaged my old friend. Could the place to stay three days from now be moved up?

Lena POV The day before my child’s memorial day, I went to the old cemetery section early in the morning. I wanted to honor my son one last time in my own way before the relocation. But the grave site had already changed. Memorial flower baskets, fresh flowers, and place cards were all arranged. Shaw family members were checking service details nearby. The keepsakes and handwritten letter I’d brought were stopped by staff. “Before the service, no personal items can be placed at the grave.” I looked at the hand blocking my way, my voice cold. “This is my son’s grave.” Veronica walked over from beside the headstone, her tone gentle. “Lena, give me the things. I’ll arrange everything.” I didn’t move. Veronica looked at the handwritten letter in my hands. “This kind of personal sentiment isn’t appropriate for the Shaw family cemetery section. The child should have a new home from now on.” I looked up. “Move.” Veronica positioned herself to block the steps. “The roster has been confirmed. If you force your way in today, you’ll only make things difficult for Shaun.” I stepped closer. “When did my son become your new home?” The smile faded from Veronica’s face. She lowered her voice. “Whoever’s listed as mother on the headstone has the right to decide how future memorial services are conducted.” I went around her to place the handwritten letter at the grave. Veronica suddenly grabbed my wrist. The handwritten letters scattered across the ground. I bent down to collect them. Veronica took the opportunity to fall backward, knocking over the nearby flower stand. Flowers spilled everywhere. Shaw family members and staff all gathered around. Veronica clutched her arm, eyes reddening. “I only advised Lena not to ruin the service, and she came at me.” When Shaun arrived, he saw Veronica sitting on the ground while I crouched among scattered letters. He helped Veronica up first. “Are you hurt?” I stood up. “She grabbed my letter.” Shaun didn’t let me finish. “Put your things away first. Don’t keep making a scene in front of outsiders.” I held up those handwritten letters. “Today is the day before our child’s memorial day. I only wanted to leave one letter.” “Tomorrow is the relocation.” Shaun suppressed his anger. “The family elders have all been notified. Veronica’s been frightened by you like this. How long are you going to keep this up?” I looked at him. “Even now, you still think I’m just making trouble?” Shaun didn’t answer. He only turned to instruct his assistant, “Take her home.” The assistant stepped forward. I stepped back. “Don’t touch me.” Veronica leaned against Shaun and suddenly drew a sharp breath. “Shaun, my arm hurts. I think I hit it just now.” Shaun’s expression changed. “Go to the hospital.” I stood before the grave, clutching the crumpled letters. Veronica’s pulling motion earlier had aggravated my old injury. My abdomen throbbed with pain. Cold sweat ran down from my temples. Shaun saw my pale face and paused mid-step. Veronica called to him softly. “Shaun, I’m a little scared.” Shaun ultimately supported Veronica toward the car, only turning back to tell his assistant, “Take her home.” I didn’t get in the assistant’s car. After Shaun’s car drove away, I crouched down and picked up the handwritten letters one by one from the ground. I didn’t try again to place the letters at the grave. I only tucked one into the memorial album. Then I photographed the altar that had been replaced, the overturned flower stand, the red marks on my wrist, and saved the video of Veronica grabbing my letter. As I left the cemetery, they were setting up directional signs for the relocation service in the distance. I messaged my old friend: Can the ticket be changed to tonight? The reply came quickly: Yes, last train. I looked at the screen and sent a simple reply. “Change it.” Great. Tonight I could finally leave the man who broke my heart. I only hoped he wouldn’t notice.

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I’d been married to Ethan for five years when he took my wedding ring right off my finger to please his mistress. That ring was the only thing my parents left me. I knelt on the floor and begged him to give it back. He didn’t even look at me. He placed it in another woman’s palm and said, “If you like it, it’s yours.” From that day on, I stopped waiting for him to come home, stopped leaving a light on in the dead of night. He brought his mistress home to spend the night and ordered me to buy condoms. I went. He was intimate with her in the master bedroom and made me listen from the room next door. I listened all night long. He had people search me in public, strip my clothes off, and threw me out of the house covered in injuries. I said nothing. Because I still wore the scarf he’d wrapped around my neck when I was eighteen. I’d always thought that was the beginning of love. Later I learned he’d just casually saved someone, and I spent my whole life repaying that debt. Everyone thought I would endure it. But they didn’t know I’d been carrying the divorce agreement he signed on our wedding day with me all along. Five years. I’d finally gathered the courage to take it out and sign my own name.

Sophia’s POV Ever since Ethan took my wedding ring to please his mistress Isabella, I became a different person. I stopped taking meticulous care of Ethan’s life. I stopped sitting at my desk after work every day, waiting for Ethan to finish so we could go home together. I even stopped keeping track of any news about Ethan. Today was Ethan’s birthday. We’d been giving each other the cold shoulder for a week. Last week, Isabella made me a cup of coffee. Not only did I not drink it, I threw the coffee all over her. He thought I was too rude, that it didn’t befit my position. So Ethan took my wedding ring as a way to punish me. I did treasure that ring. In the past, every year on his birthday, I would cook dinner and wait for him at home. But this year I wasn’t planning to celebrate his birthday. Suddenly, I heard the sound of the front door opening. It must be Ethan coming home. I paid no attention. The master bedroom door was slightly ajar. I leaned against the headboard, looking down at a book. He quickly came upstairs and pushed open my door. Hearing the noise, I looked up with a calm expression and just nodded slightly. “You didn’t cook?” Ethan’s face showed some displeasure. I closed the book and explained gently, “I didn’t know you were coming home for dinner tonight. I’ll have Grace do it now.” Grace was the housekeeper. Ethan stared at my face, his brow furrowed. “No need.” He spat out the words coldly and turned to leave. At the doorway, he stopped. “You forgot what day it is.” With that, he strode away. I was stunned for a moment. Then I remembered that today was Ethan’s birthday. From his expression just now, he seemed angry? Impossible. I’d celebrated Ethan’s birthday four times. Every time, I prepared gifts, dinner, and cake with meticulous care. And the result? The gifts were casually set aside without even unwrapping. He didn’t touch the food, and it was thrown in the trash the next day. How could someone like Ethan be angry that I didn’t celebrate his birthday? He should be happy. I took a breath and opened my book again. I guessed Ethan was probably going to find Isabella right now. After all, in five years of marriage, the days he’d actually stayed in this house added up to less than a month. But not long after, the door was pushed open again. Ethan had returned, his expression considerably softer than before. He stood by the bed, his tone gentler. “I’ll stay home tonight. Keep you company.” Before I could speak, his phone rang in his pocket. Isabella’s name appeared on the screen. Ethan hesitated, but still answered. The woman’s sweet, coquettish voice drifted out and into my ears. I watched as Ethan turned his back, lowering his voice to comfort his mistress. When he hung up, I spoke. “You don’t need to stay with me. Miss Hart is young and afraid of the dark. She can’t sleep alone. I’m fine. You should go.” Ethan froze. These were the very words he’d said to me in the past when he was about to go find Isabella. I’d given them right back to him, word for word. Ethan didn’t love me. His grandfather Richard had forced him to marry me. “Fine. Isabella needs me.” His tone was somewhat stiff. “Don’t bully her again.” “I won’t.” I shook my head repeatedly. “Last time was my fault. I shouldn’t have lost my temper with her. Go on, don’t keep her waiting.” His face turned ashen as he turned and strode away. The next day, at the Carter estate. I knelt before Richard. “Grandfather, five years are up. I want to leave.” His hair was white, but his eyes were still bright. “Are you sure? You really want to go? You don’t love him anymore?” “Yes, I’m sure.” My expression was serious. “Ethan doesn’t love me. Why should we keep tormenting each other?” Richard sighed. “I was wrong back then.” “He does have feelings for you in his heart. He just hasn’t realized it himself.” He waved his hand. “Ah, he’s not worthy of being your husband.” He called over the butler and gave a few quiet instructions. After a while, the butler came over with a document envelope and handed it to me. “This is what you wanted. Also, I’ve prepared a new identity for you and some money.” He looked at me, his expression full of reluctance. “You’ll leave in a week.” “Remember, leave quietly. Don’t let Ethan know.” “Otherwise, you won’t be able to leave.” My eyes grew hot, and I nodded emphatically. Back in the car, I opened the envelope. The words “Divorce Agreement” at the top stung my eyes until they felt sore. I flipped to the last page. Ethan’s signature was right there. He’d signed this divorce agreement on the very day we got our marriage certificate. I stared at his signature for a long time, then suddenly laughed. Ethan, in a week, I won’t stand in your way anymore. From now on, you can love whoever you want. I’ll never be your obstacle again.

Sophia’s POV I returned home and started packing. Over these five years, Ethan had given me many things. But they were all bought by his assistant, given to Mrs. Carter, not to me as a person. Whoever was Mrs. Carter would receive these gifts. So my luggage was simple. A small twenty-inch suitcase held everything I owned. After packing, I started disposing of the old things in the house. The cufflinks I’d bought him with my own salary. The scarf I’d knit by hand. The throw pillows I’d purchased. Among these things, some Ethan had glanced at once, but more had never been looked at, just casually discarded. I had to quietly put them away myself, storing them in the closet. At the very top of the closet was a scarf. It was the only scarf I’d ever knit in my life. I’d followed a tutorial for three full months. I unraveled it when I made mistakes, unraveled it when the stitches were uneven. By the end, my fingers had swollen twice their normal size. But when I gave it to Ethan, he didn’t even unwrap it. He said a bland “thank you” and never wore the scarf. I held the scarf in my arms and gave a bitter laugh. I retrieved another scarf from the very back of the closet. That one was from Ethan. In the winter of my freshman year, my parents were on their way to visit me at school when they encountered a multi-car pileup. They died at the scene. That year, I was eighteen. The night after the funeral, I sat alone by the campus lake, from dusk until deep into the night. The lake water was pitch black, lapping at the shore in waves. I thought, if I jumped in, would I stop being cold? Would I be able to see Mom and Dad? I was inching little by little toward the lake when I heard footsteps behind me. “Hey.” I looked up into a stern face. I recognized him. Finance department senior, Ethan Carter. The whole school knew him. Heir to Carter Corporation. His grades were excellent. After graduation, he was going to work on Wall Street. He and I were from two different worlds. Ethan looked at my red-rimmed eyes, unwrapped his own scarf and wrapped it around my neck, then wiped the tears from my face. “Staying alive is what matters most.” Those words pulled me back from the lake’s edge. After that day, the name Ethan Carter was etched into my heart. I began quietly paying attention to everything about him. Where he had classes each day, what time he went to the library to study. I knew it all. I never thought I’d have any real connection with him. One was the heir to Carter Corporation, the other an orphan who’d lost both parents. I knew I wasn’t good enough for him. I just wanted to see him from afar. That was enough. The year of graduation, I submitted my resume to Carter Corporation. On the day of the interview, at the entrance to the Carter Building, I saw an elderly man clutch his chest and collapse. I immediately rushed over to perform CPR and call an ambulance. That old man was Richard. When he woke up, he saw the scarf around my neck. “Ah,” Richard said, “Isn’t that scarf Ethan’s?” I instinctively nodded. He asked again, “You know him?” My face instantly flushed red. I couldn’t help lowering my head. Richard looked at me and smiled kindly, patting the back of my hand. “I’ll have Ethan marry you. Are you willing?” I thought I’d misheard. “He doesn’t know me.” “I can see you’re very kind. Ethan has a terrible personality. He might never meet someone who truly loves him in his entire life.” “I can tell you’re a good girl.” “I believe you’ll be a good wife.” In the end, I didn’t refuse him. I hadn’t expected Ethan to strongly oppose marrying me.

Sophia’s POV Richard was so angry he fell ill and was admitted to the ICU. He said, “Just consider it marrying her for my sake. Live with her for five years. After five years, if you still don’t love her, you can divorce.” Ethan loved Richard dearly. He agreed. But to make his position clear, on the first day of marriage, Ethan had a lawyer draft divorce papers, signed them, and handed them to his grandfather. At the wedding, when I heard him say “I do,” I actually felt hope. I thought five years would be enough. If I tried my best to love him and treat him well, one day he would see me. For five years after the wedding, I did everything I could for him. When he traveled for business, I packed his suitcase with clothes. When he had business dinners, no matter how late, I waited for him on the sofa at home. But I hadn’t expected Ethan to be ice that could never be melted. We only saw each other at the office. He never ate the food I cooked. He never accepted the water I offered. A year ago, Isabella appeared. At first, Ethan still considered my position and didn’t let Isabella appear in public. Later, one phone call from Isabella could summon him away. Isabella could freely enter and exit his CEO office. He started bringing Isabella to public events while I, Mrs. Carter, became a joke. Last week, I went to Ethan’s office to deliver documents and ran right into Isabella coming out. She was holding a cup of hot coffee, raising her eyebrows at me. “Long time no see, Mrs. Carter.” Isabella laughed softly. “I heard Ethan hasn’t been home in over a month? Why haven’t you figured out your situation yet?” Before I could respond, Isabella flicked her wrist and splashed the scalding coffee on herself. She fell backward, clutching the doorframe and crying. “I just wanted to bring you coffee. Why did you push me?” Ethan heard the commotion and rushed out, pulling Isabella into his arms. He looked up at me, his eyes ice-cold. “Sophia, apologize to her.” It was the first time he’d casually punished me. “I didn’t push her.” I shook my head. “Still making excuses.” Ethan’s face darkened. “Do you think being my wife gives you the right to bully people?” Isabella clutched his sleeve, crying. “Ethan, don’t blame her. I shouldn’t have appeared by your side. She’s your wife. She’s still wearing your wedding ring…” Ethan looked at the tears in Isabella’s eyes, then turned to glare at me furiously. “If you won’t apologize, you don’t need to wear the ring either.” He raised his hand and a bodyguard stepped forward, forcibly removing my wedding ring. My finger was scraped, blood flowing freely. Ethan didn’t even glance at me. He placed the ring in Isabella’s palm. “If you like it, it’s yours.” He carried Isabella out of the office without looking back at me. That day, I finally understood. Five years, over eighteen hundred days and nights. I was nothing but trash to him. I looked at the two scarves. One he gave me, which I treasured. One I gave him, which he treated as garbage. Just like our positions in this relationship. I reached up to touch my empty ring finger. A tear dropped onto the scarf. Thank goodness, the five years were over. Thank goodness, I got that agreement he’d signed. Next week I could leave. From then on, Ethan and I would have no connection. I took everything from the closet, including both scarves, and threw them in the trash.

Sophia’s POV The next day was Richard’s eightieth birthday banquet. He was the person in the Carter family who treated me best. For five years, I’d been in charge of Richard’s birthday, and this year was no exception. Guest list, menu, seating arrangements, decoration process. I handled each item. That day, I arrived very early. When the banquet began and guests started arriving, Ethan appeared. I hadn’t expected him to come with someone. Holding his arm was Isabella in a wine-red low-cut gown. Her hair was pinned up high, her makeup exquisite. Her bright eyes gazed at Ethan as if she were his wife. The two walked into the hall side by side. They looked like the married couple. Isabella glanced at me, the arrogance and pride in her eyes unconcealed. Murmurs from the surrounding guests immediately rose up. “Isn’t that Miss Hart? Ethan actually brought her back. Mrs. Carter…” “With so many people here today, isn’t this humiliating his actual wife?” My expression remained calm as I continued chatting warmly with each guest. Richard sat in the seat of honor, seeing everything clearly. Ethan approached, wanting to offer some birthday wishes to Richard. Richard leaned on his cane, his eyes landing on Isabella. “Who is this?” he asked coldly. Ethan glanced at me. “This is my secretary. I just came from the office and brought her along.” Richard looked at him coldly. “Today is my birthday. Did you get my permission to bring your secretary? You’re incredibly rude!” Ethan’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing. I saw his chest rising and falling violently and quickly stepped forward to soothe Richard. “Please don’t be angry. Today is your birthday. Don’t let these small matters upset you.” His expression finally eased a bit. He patted my hand and sighed. “Sophia still cares about me.” Ethan stood nearby, watching this scene, his eyes darkening. Ethan coldly averted his gaze and led Isabella away to mingle with guests. When some guests saw Isabella, they politely looked her over and said with a smile, “Mr. Carter, this young lady at your side is quite elegant.” Ethan didn’t deny it, just tugged his lips slightly. Isabella was delighted, leaning into his arm and looking up at him with a smile. He didn’t dodge or stop her. His gaze kept involuntarily looking in my direction. I pretended not to see his eyes, continuing to greet guests with a smile, my manner composed. If this were before, seeing this scene would have made my eyes turn red. But this time, I did nothing. Halfway through the banquet, Ethan left to take a call. Isabella took the opportunity to walk over to me, her tone light. “Mrs. Carter, let me tell you something.” She pointed at my hand. “That ring of yours? I put it on my dog’s collar. My dog really likes that ring.” I looked at her and laughed softly. “As long as you like it.” Isabella’s smile froze. She wanted to see me angry, but didn’t, and a hint of gloom flashed in her eyes. Isabella slowly backed away, quietly approaching the long table behind her with its champagne tower, and grabbed a corner of the tablecloth. The next second, the champagne tower collapsed with a crash. Dozens of glasses with liquid rushed toward Isabella and me. Guests shrieked. Not far away, Ethan’s face changed dramatically as he rushed over. “Isabella!” He rushed toward Isabella, pulling her into his arms to protect her. Glass shards and champagne crashed toward me. I couldn’t dodge in time and could only raise my arms to protect my head and face. The massive impact knocked me to the ground. Glass fragments pierced my arms and shoulders. Blood quickly soaked through my dress. In the last moment before losing consciousness, I saw Ethan holding Isabella tightly in his arms, anxiously calling her name. That embrace had no place for me, and never had.

Sophia’s POV When I woke again, I was in my bedroom at home. I opened my eyes, not fully conscious yet. Ethan sat by the bed, looking somewhat tired. I was startled, not expecting him to be there. Seeing me wake, Ethan’s expression softened slightly. “You’re awake? You have superficial injuries. The doctor has already bandaged them.” In my mind, I kept seeing how Ethan had rushed toward Isabella without hesitation before I fainted. I lowered my eyes and said softly, “Sorry for worrying you. I’m fine.” My tone was polite. Ethan’s face froze again. He continued, “You’re my wife. Such a major incident at the banquet. Not only did you hurt yourself, you nearly hurt other guests. Do you understand what you did wrong?” My heart ached dully. The guest he meant was Isabella. He was blaming me for hurting Isabella. I’d seen clearly that Isabella had deliberately pulled the tablecloth. If this were before, I definitely would have defended myself and explained what happened. But I remembered how he’d rushed toward Isabella, how he’d protected her in his arms. Even if I said something, would he believe me? He wouldn’t believe me. The one who isn’t favored, whatever they say is just excuses. The more I said, the more unreasonable I would seem, and I’d only cause myself more trouble. I lowered my head. “Yes, I was wrong. Tomorrow I’ll accept my punishment.” Ethan paused. Before, I would act cute to avoid punishment. So in five years, he’d never actually punished me. This time I didn’t want to act cute. I wanted to completely sever ties with him. Ethan’s face also grew cold. “Good. You ruined Richard’s banquet. You should be punished. Don’t come to the office tomorrow. Stay home under house arrest.” After speaking, he stood up in anger and strode out. I watched his departing back and closed my eyes. The next day, Ethan really did send someone. I didn’t recognize the man who came. I’d never seen him. His face looked somewhat fierce. As soon as he entered, he told me to kneel. So the punishment he mentioned also involved being beaten. I knelt quietly on the living room floor without a word. The man with the rod raised his hand and struck me hard. My injuries from yesterday hadn’t healed yet. After the first strike, my whole body swayed. After the third strike, I had no strength left to support myself and collapsed on the floor. Grace couldn’t help stepping forward. “Sir, Mrs. Carter still has injuries. Could you be gentler? At this rate, she’ll die!” The man glanced at Grace and sneered coldly. “Who do you think you are? Mrs. Carter is accepting punishment. Is it your place to speak? Say one more word and you’ll be punished too!” Afraid Grace would be implicated, I forced myself to raise my hand. “Grace, go.” Grace wiped her tears and backed out, turning back with every step. The rod continued to fall. I bit my lip to keep from making a sound. I thought, so Ethan really could actually go through with this. I remembered the lakeside eight years ago, the scarf he’d handed me. So from that moment until now, he’d never truly seen me. The man I’d loved for over eight years wouldn’t even let me walk through these last few days in peace. My vision darkened inch by inch. When the last blow fell, I heard something inside me shatter and something else fall into place. I finally closed my eyes and lost consciousness.

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“What’s with this tie?” I tossed the brand-new tie, tags still attached, onto the coffee table. Ethan Gray glanced at it without even frowning. “The new management trainee slipped it into my bag when I wasn’t paying attention.” “Mia Smith?” “Who else would be clueless enough to do something like that?” I let out a cold laugh. The entire company knew we were sworn enemies—I slashed his budgets, and he mocked me for not understanding technology. What nobody knew was that we’d been secretly married for seven years and already had a five-year-old child. The next day, she cried in the cafeteria: “President Gray told me privately that he feels suffocated in his marriage…” On the third day, she deliberately scalded herself in the stairwell and tearfully accused me of pushing her. Cyberbullying. Doxxing. Number one on the trending charts. Mia Smith, do you know what an Audit Director does best? —Gather evidence. I found a brand-new tie in Ethan Gray’s briefcase. The pattern was tacky, and the tag was still attached. “Explain this.” I tossed the tie onto the coffee table with a thud. Ethan had just come out of the shower. He glanced at it, and his brow furrowed so deeply you could crush a fly between them. “One of the new management trainees gave it to me.” He toweled his hair while kicking the tie farther away with disgust. “Said she wanted to thank me for teaching her how to write weekly reports. I refused it, but she stuffed it into my bag when I wasn’t looking.” “Mia Smith?” “Who else would be that clueless?” I let out a cold laugh. Not only clueless, but bold too. As the Group Audit Director, my daily job was finding faults. And Ethan was the Group VP of R&D. In the eyes of the company’s thousand-plus employees, we were sworn enemies who couldn’t stand each other. Last month, I had just killed a three-million-dollar budget for the R&D department. Ethan publicly mocked me in a meeting for not understanding technology, and I fired back in the group chat that he didn’t understand compliance. The entire company thought we were at each other’s throats. Who would’ve thought that this cold and aloof VP Ethan heated up milk for me every night and blow-dried my hair? We went from high school uniforms to wedding dresses. Seven years of secret marriage, and we even had a five-year-old child. “Did she pull something again today?” I asked. “Yeah.” Ethan sat down beside me and naturally took the audit report from my hands to help me organize it. “In front of a dozen people, she insisted on reaching over to straighten my collar, saying my tie was crooked.” “You let her touch you?” “I asked her if she wanted to file for workers’ compensation for a workplace injury.” Ethan’s sharp tongue was as reliable as ever. “Then she started crying, saying I was too mean and didn’t understand a young woman’s feelings.” “Feelings?” I picked up that tie. “Giving a male superior such a personal item—that’s sexual harassment.” She’d been on the job less than two months, hadn’t accomplished much, and was putting all her energy into trying to seduce executives. Treating the workplace like a dating game. In my audit red-line standards, this counted as a high-risk uncontrollable factor. “Let’s just throw it away.” Ethan got up to grab the trash can. “Wait.” I stopped him. “It’d be such a waste to throw it away.” “What are you planning?” “We should let everyone see just how ‘polite’ Miss Smith is.” I put the tie back in the bag. Ethan understood the look in my eyes and smiled. “You’re going to mess with her again?” “I’m in audit.” I turned off the living room light, my tone calm. “Tomorrow, keep her away from you. That perfume of hers is giving me a headache.”

The next morning, I brought the bag to the company’s front desk. The receptionist had just finished applying her lipstick. When she saw me, she immediately stood up. “Good morning, Miss Shaw.” “Morning.” I placed the bag on the counter. “Someone left this with Mr. Gray yesterday. Put it in lost and found.” “Okay, should I log who lost it?” “No need.” I adjusted my cuffs. “It’s nothing valuable anyway. If no one claims it, just treat it as scrap.” With that, I swiped my card and entered the elevator. At three in the afternoon, I went to the R&D department to review last quarter’s expense reports. Ethan was discussing architecture with several core team members. I sat at a nearby workstation checking data. Ethan didn’t even glance at me, still stone-faced while reprimanding people. “Who set this parameter? Did water get into their brain?” The engineer being scolded kept his head down, not daring to make a sound. The atmosphere was oppressive. Until a high-pitched voice broke the silence. “Everyone’s working so hard! I bought afternoon tea for you all!” Mia Smith walked in carrying two large bags from Starbucks. She was wearing a knit sweater today with a rather low neckline, bending over to distribute coffee to the engineers around her. “Thanks, Mia!” “Mia, you’re so thoughtful!” Several male colleagues smiled as they accepted the drinks. Mia finally walked to Ethan’s desk and pulled out a delicate little box. It was a pink heart-shaped mousse cake. “Mr. Gray, I made this myself—low sugar, low calorie. I saved it especially for you.” She held the cake with both hands, leaning forward so that half her chest was practically pressed against Ethan’s desk. She even made a point of displaying the sticky note on it, which had a smiley face drawn on it. I closed my folder with a sharp snap. Mia acted as if she’d only just noticed me. “Oh my! Miss Shaw, you’re here too?” She looked at me with an innocent expression. “I’m so sorry, Miss Shaw. I thought you were in the audit department, so I didn’t prepare one for you.” The room went quiet for a second. This cheap tactic—I couldn’t even be bothered to respond. “It’s fine.” I said coolly. “I don’t eat street vendor food, and I don’t eat unlicensed products.” Mia’s face froze. “This is my own baking, made with all imported ingredients…” “Without a food business license, it’s an unlicensed product.” I cut her off. “Also, it’s work hours right now.” She bit her lip and looked at Ethan with grievance, her eyes instantly turning red. “Mr. Gray, I just wanted everyone to relax a bit. Why is Miss Shaw targeting me like this…” Ethan finally looked up from his screen. He glanced at the pink cake, then at Mia. His gaze was like he was looking at an idiot. “The R&D department has regulations prohibiting any food or sugary drinks from being brought in.” Ethan’s voice had no warmth whatsoever. “Employee handbook, Chapter 3, Article 5. Did you not memorize it?” Mia froze. “I… I thought it was just afternoon tea…” “Take it out.” Ethan pointed at the door. “Next time I see these non-compliant items on my desk, you’ll disappear along with them.” Mia’s tears actually fell. She picked up the cake and ran out. The surrounding engineers exchanged glances and quickly lowered their heads to drink their coffee, not daring to speak. I reopened my folder and continued checking the data. Ethan turned his head. “Miss Shaw, are you done checking that parameter from earlier?” “Not yet.” I didn’t look up. “This travel expense claim is over budget. Resubmit it.” “Got it. I’ll follow Miss Shaw’s instructions.” There was a trace of barely perceptible amusement in his tone. But I knew Mia definitely wouldn’t let this go. Sure enough, within half an hour, an anonymous post appeared on the company’s internal forum.

That anonymous post hung on the company’s internal forum all afternoon and got a lot of traction. The content was several hundred words long, accusing me of being heartless and not understanding how to care for subordinates. Although no names were mentioned, the label “audit department’s female demon” applied to no one in the entire company except me. In the comments section, several newly registered accounts kept stirring things up: “I heard she’s jealous of that pretty management trainee, so she’s taking it out on Mr. Gray.” “Older women are scary. When their own lives aren’t going well, they can’t stand to see others happy.” When my assistant, Zoe, handed me the tablet, her hands were shaking. “Sarah, do you need me to contact IT to delete the post? This is damaging your reputation…” “No need.” I scrolled through the screen and casually took a few screenshots to save. “Why delete it? This is all evidence.” This level of public opinion attack was nothing—not even an itch to me. As an auditor, I’d seen plenty of dirty things. Compared to that, this kind of venting from a young woman was both childish and low-level. I glanced out the window. Rain was pouring down. The weather forecast showed there would be a major rainstorm tonight. Ethan sent me a message: “Meet at the garage. I have an umbrella.” I packed up my things and headed downstairs. To avoid suspicion, we never left the office together. Usually he’d go get the car first, I’d wait for him, then get in. We’d kept this secret relationship going for seven years. I arrived at the garage. Ethan’s car was already parked in a corner. I opened the back door and quickly slipped inside. The windows had the darkest privacy film—you couldn’t see inside from outside at all. “This rain is really coming down.” Ethan handed me a dry towel. “Wipe your hair. The entrance had a big draft just now, and you got rained on, didn’t you?” “I’m fine.” I took the towel. “Let’s go.” Ethan had just shifted into gear and hadn’t even pressed the gas when a white figure suddenly rushed out. “Screech—” Ethan slammed on the brakes. My body lurched forward. I frowned and looked ahead. It was Mia Smith. She didn’t have an umbrella. Her white shirt was already soaked through, clinging tightly to her body, with her black bra visible underneath. Her hair was plastered wetly to her face. She looked like a pitiful little white rabbit. She stood in front of the car, blocking the way. If Ethan had reacted a second slower, he might have hit her. “Is she crazy?” Ethan’s tone instantly dropped to freezing. He hated people who didn’t follow traffic rules. Mia came around to the driver’s side and tapped lightly on the window. “Mr. Gray… Mr. Gray…” Her voice was tearful, trembling badly. I sat in the back seat, arms crossed, watching this scene with cold eyes. “Should I open the window?” Ethan glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Go ahead.” I said flatly. “Let’s see what she wants.” Ethan lowered the window. Rain immediately drifted in through the gap. “Mr. Gray.” Mia’s fingers were white from the cold, looking utterly pitiful. “The rain is too heavy. I can’t get a cab, and the garage is so dark. I’m scared being here alone…” As she spoke, she tried to press her soaked chest against the window gap. “Mr. Gray, could you drop me off at the nearest subway station… I’m so cold.” Any other man might have let her in the car. Even if he didn’t drive her home, he’d at least let her get in to escape the rain. Unfortunately for her, she was dealing with Ethan. Ethan had maintained his virtue for so many years—he wouldn’t be seduced that easily. Ethan looked at her calmly. “The company lobby has heating and spare umbrellas.” Ethan’s voice was clear and cold. “The administration department has a contract with a taxi service. The front desk has one-touch cab calling, and the company reimburses the full fare. You don’t need to hail a cab yourself.” Ethan pointed at the dashcam. “My car is a private vehicle. It doesn’t have commercial operating qualifications. My car is only open to my immediate family members.” “Mia Smith, are you my immediate family?” Mia froze. Unwilling to give up, she bit her lip, trembling even harder. “But Mr. Gray… I’m really cold. I feel dizzy right now. Can’t you help me?” She reached for the back door handle. Ethan quickly locked the doors. She pulled twice but couldn’t open it. Unable to see me inside, she could only see her own disheveled reflection. “Mr. Gray?” Ethan’s hand hovered over the window button. “If you’re really sick, I can call 911 for you right now. An ambulance will get here faster than I can.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. Ethan’s mouth was savage. Fortunately, the person outside couldn’t hear me. “Also, as a management trainee, even during off-hours, you need to maintain your professional image.” “Dressed like this, blocking a male superior’s car—if word gets out, it’ll affect your probation evaluation.” Mia’s face turned deathly pale. She instinctively covered her chest and stepped back. “Mr. Gray, how can you think of me like that… I just…” “Move.” Ethan didn’t want to hear any more nonsense. Reluctantly, she bit her teeth and backed away, looking back every few steps. Ethan raised the window and hit the gas. The car rushed into the rain. “Brilliant.” I clapped. “Worthy of Mr. Gray with his excellent sense of boundaries.” Ethan said, “If I’d let her in, I’d have had to get the car deep-cleaned inside and out. Not worth it.” The car merged onto the elevated highway. “Honey.” “Hmm?” “Next time something like this happens, can you handle it directly?” There was a hint of helplessness in Ethan’s tone. “I’d like to see you tear into a homewrecker too. Always making me play the villain.” I said with a smile, “Tearing into her now would be no fun. Let’s wait a bit longer. She’s not going to give up that easily.”

The atmosphere at the company was strange the next day. Several employees huddled together, their eyes occasionally drifting toward me. Back in my office, I logged into the internal network. The anonymous section was lively, as expected. Someone had posted vaguely about last night’s incident. The comments section had a very unified tone—Mr. Gray definitely wanted to help, but didn’t dare. Because the company had an ice queen making all the executives live in fear, worried that one wrong step would get them reported by the audit department. I wore this scapegoat quite steadily. At noon, I went to the cafeteria. It was peak lunch hour. I picked up a tray and deliberately chose a corner seat. Mia Smith was wearing a V-neck knit sweater with a rather low neckline today. At her table sat four other new management trainees. “Mia, are you okay? Why are you coughing so badly?” “I’m fine.” Mia’s voice was soft and sweet, with a heavy nasal tone. “I just got rained on last night and have a slight fever.” “Mr. Gray was really too much, leaving you there alone in that downpour.” “Don’t say that about Mr. Gray.” Mia’s watery eyes were full of protectiveness. “Mr. Gray is actually a very good person. Last night I saw the reluctance in his eyes.” “Then why didn’t he let you in the car?” “Because it wouldn’t be compliant.” Mia sighed. “If Mr. Gray had given me a ride, people might have said he had improper conduct. Wouldn’t that harm him?” “Plus, Mr. Gray sent me a private message on SnapChat to explain.” “He even said he’s been feeling quite oppressed.” I put down my fork. I opened my phone’s recording app. Spreading rumors about the audit department abusing power, fabricating private messages from executives, implying an executive had personal feelings for her. After recording for two minutes, I saved the audio and stood up. “Ahem…” Mia caught sight of me from the corner of her eye and was so startled her spoon clinked against the bowl. “M-Miss Shaw.” The table of trainees immediately fell silent, heads down eating their rice. Mia quickly adjusted her expression. “Hello, Miss Shaw. I just felt a bit dizzy and lost my balance.” She looked up at me with reddened eyes, looking like a scared little white rabbit. “Miss Shaw, you’re eating too? There’s no space here. Maybe you could sit at the next table?” I ignored her performance, my gaze coldly sweeping across her phone screen. “Mia Smith, as a management trainee, what did you score on your onboarding training test?” She paused, then said timidly, “N-ninety-five.” “Then recite the employee code of conduct.” She bit her lip, looking at me blankly. “Spreading false statements in the workplace, discussing company management systems inappropriately, slandering superiors.” I looked down at her from my position. “You just said the audit department is overstepping its bounds? That Mr. Gray has no choice in the matter?” “I… I didn’t mean it like that.” Tears immediately filled her eyes. She waved her hands frantically. “I was just feeling bad that Mr. Gray was being misunderstood. I wanted to help explain…” “Explain?” Ethan walked over. Mia said in a high-pitched voice, “Mr. Gray… Miss Shaw misunderstood me. I was just saying that last night you sent a SnapChat message to care—” Ethan stepped aside. Mia lunged forward into empty air and barely managed to steady herself by grabbing the chair back. Her posture was awkward. Ethan pulled out his phone and directly opened his chat with Mia. The interface was clean, with only one system notification about accepting a friend request. The date was her first day on the job. After that, completely blank. “Mia Smith, I have severe OCD and germaphobia.” Ethan’s voice wasn’t loud, but loud enough for everyone around to hear clearly. “I don’t add random people, I don’t respond to nonsense, and I definitely wouldn’t send this kind of ambiguous message to an employee who tried to violate protocol by hitching a ride. Do you have delusions?” The cafeteria fell dead silent. The few trainees who had been backing her up moments ago now had faces turning green. Mia’s face flushed like a pig’s liver. Tears hung on her lashes—falling or not falling, both equally awkward. “Mr. Gray… I…” “Also.” Ethan looked at me. “Miss Shaw enforcing compliance is her job.” With that, he didn’t even glance at Mia and turned to leave.

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The day my wife divorced me for the ninth time, she attended a charity gala with her new assistant, making quite the public statement. I didn’t make a scene. I just looked at that man’s face—it was identical to mine before the car accident. But I knew that in thirty days, she’d come back to remarry me. That’s how it went the previous eight times. The first time, his eyes resembled mine. The second time, his mouth. The third time, his nose… The ninth time, his entire face looked like mine. But today is the thirty-second day. For the first time, she hasn’t come back. I stare at my face in the mirror, destroyed by hormone medication. It’s fine. This time, I’m not waiting anymore. The invitation to the charity gala was delivered by her assistant. That assistant stood at my door, wearing the suit brand I used to love, carrying the same cologne scent I used to wear. When he handed me the invitation, he deliberately used his left hand. Because he knew my wife liked left-handed men. Three years ago, I was left-handed. “Mr. Cavanaugh, Miss Bernard asked me to give you this.” He smiled, revealing a row of perfect teeth. That smile curved exactly like mine did in photos from three years ago. I took the invitation. “Got it.” I closed the door and tossed the invitation on the shoe cabinet. The invitation featured a photo of her with her assistant. She wore a black dress, he stood beside her, their faces close together. The caption read: Miss Bernard and her assistant attending the annual charity gala. With her assistant. She used to attend all those business dinners with me. I flipped the invitation over and left it face-down on the table. It’s fine. I’m used to it by now. Today is the thirty-second day. After the previous eight divorces, she always came back to remarry within thirty days. This time she hasn’t. I picked up my phone and sent my mom a message: “Mom, book me a flight back to New York for tonight.” “How many tickets?” “One.” “You sure?” “I’m sure.” “What about her?” I stared at that word “her” on the screen, then replied: “Not waiting for her anymore.” Then I turned off my phone, walked into the bedroom, and opened the closet. Her clothes took up most of the space. Mine occupied a small corner. I pulled out my clothes and packed them in a suitcase. Not much—just a few changes of clothes. Before leaving, I placed something on the coffee table: an agreement, the ninth divorce agreement. She’d already signed it. She signed it quickly that day without even looking. She didn’t know this agreement contained a gift contract tucked inside. I’d transferred our only property—the big house—into her name. There was nothing to fight over. She bought the house. She bought the car. The only thing I ever had of value was her love. Now that the love is gone, it’s time to leave. At seven that evening, I still went to the gala. Not to say goodbye, but to confirm something. I stood at the entrance to the ballroom and spotted her immediately. She wore that black evening gown, her hair pulled up, wearing the necklace from our wedding day around her neck. That necklace—I’d saved up six months of wages to buy it during our first marriage. She wore that necklace while holding another man’s arm. She saw me. Her gaze paused on me for a second. Then she turned her head and reached up to adjust her assistant’s tie. That gesture—I’d taught her that. The year we got married, she tried tying a tie for the first time and couldn’t get it right. I held her hands and taught her step by step. She learned, and then every morning for three years, she tied my tie. Now she was tying another man’s tie. Her fingers moved with the same motions, even more practiced now. Then she took her assistant’s arm and walked toward me. “You came.” She smiled. “Yeah.” “This is Diego, my new assistant.” I looked at the man. He extended his hand. “Hello, Mr. Cavanaugh.” I looked at that hand but didn’t shake it. I turned to her. “Today is the thirty-second day.” Her smile froze for an instant, then returned to normal. “I know.” “You’re not planning to come back.” She didn’t answer. The assistant spoke up: “Miss Bernard, let’s go over there. Rafael is waiting for us.” She nodded. “Alright.” Then she patted her assistant’s arm. “Let’s go.” She didn’t look at me. As she passed by, she still wore that same perfume. The first time I met her, she wore this scent. She’d never changed it in all these years. But now, this scent no longer belonged to me. I turned to watch her retreating figure. She walked into the crowd holding that man who looked ninety percent like me, her steps steady, never looking back. “Bernard.” I called her name. She stopped and turned to look at me. The entire ballroom went quiet for a moment. Everyone looked at us. She froze. This was the first time I’d called her like this in public. I used to call her “honey.” Later, I called her “Miss Bernard.” Today was the first time I called her by her full name in front of everyone. “Thank you for putting up with me these past few years.” After saying this, I turned and walked away. Whispers rose behind me. Someone asked “Who’s that?” Someone said “I think that’s Miss Bernard’s ex-husband.” I didn’t look back. I walked straight out of the hotel entrance. The evening breeze rushed in, a bit chilly. I took out my phone and sent her one final message: “I’m leaving. Don’t look for me.” Then I powered it off, removed the SIM card, snapped it in half, and threw it in a trash can by the road. I hailed a taxi. “To the airport.” The car started. The city’s night scenery flew backward past the window. I’d lived in this city for eight years, from having nothing to having nothing. I closed my eyes. The last image that floated through my mind was from many years ago, at the university gates, when she stood before me and said “I like you.” Back then, there was light in her eyes. That light illuminated me for many years. Later the light went out, and I couldn’t get it back.

On the way to the airport, my mom messaged me again. “Your dad is going to pick you up. Oh, there’s something I think you should know.” “What?” She sent a photo—a hospital test report with Bernard’s name on it. The examination date was three months ago. The report showed: she had taken mifepristone and misoprostol within a month—the drug combination used to terminate pregnancy. I gripped my phone tightly. My mom sent another message: “She had an abortion three months ago. I don’t know whose child it was. Did you ask her?” I stared at the word “abortion” on the screen. Three months ago was before our eighth divorce. During that time, she treated me well. She came home on time every day and even cooked on weekends. One night, she suddenly asked me: “Do you want children?” I was stunned, thinking she was just asking casually. Later I found an obstetrics appointment slip in her coat pocket. That night I bought flowers and a cake and waited for her to come home. When she saw the cake, her expression changed. “You went through my things.” “I didn’t mean to. I saw it when I was doing laundry.” She was silent for a long time, then said: “The baby is gone.” I wanted to hold her, to tell her it was okay, we could have another one. But she pushed me away and said: “That child wasn’t yours.” When she said this, she didn’t look at my eyes. She stared at the cake on the table, her gaze empty. “The child was Costa’s—that intern whose eyes looked like yours.” “You know what disgusts me most about myself? Even when I betray you, I can only find someone who looks like you. Even when I make mistakes, I can’t betray you completely.” That night she moved to the guest room. I sat in the living room all night without sleeping. When morning came, I asked for a divorce. She nodded. She didn’t try to keep me. That was our eighth divorce. Later she came back, said she’d fired that intern, said she’d never make the same mistake again. I believed her. Then we remarried for the ninth time and divorced for the ninth time. From beginning to end, she never told me whose child it really was. Now, looking at the report my mom sent, I suddenly didn’t want to know anymore. Whoever it belonged to didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that she never intended to tell me the truth. I messaged my mom back: “Not going to ask her.” “Why not?” “I’m tired.” After sending that message, I turned off my phone too. We arrived at the airport. I dragged my suitcase into the terminal. The electronic board displayed: To New York, 23:45. Twenty minutes until the flight. I found a seat and sat down. Next to me was a young couple. The girl leaned on the boy’s shoulder. “When we get to New York, I want to eat roast chicken.” The boy said: “Okay, you can eat whatever you want.” The girl looked up at him. “What about you? What do you want to eat?” The boy smiled and pinched her cheek. “I want to eat you.” The girl blushed and playfully hit him. I watched them, remembering how many years ago, Bernard and I had similar conversations. Back then we’d just graduated, broke as could be, renting a basement apartment for six hundred dollars a month. She worked as a salesperson at a small company. I worked as a site supervisor at a construction site. Life was hard, but every night when she came home, she’d bring me fried chicken from a street vendor, saying: “Eat up, I already ate.” I knew she was lying. She saved money to buy food for me while she became skin and bones. Back then I held her and swore to myself that I’d give her a good life. Later her company grew from a three-person workshop to an enterprise with hundreds of employees. She became a lady boss. Everyone said she married down when she married me. She never cared. Whenever someone said that, she’d hook her arm through mine and say: “Who says that? My husband is the most handsome.” When she said this, her eyes were bright. There was light in them, shining only on me. Then came the car accident. That afternoon she drove me to see the ocean. Her phone kept ringing in the car—calls from the company. I told her to answer. She said she wouldn’t. She tilted her head and smiled at me. “Today I’m only with you.” Sunlight fell on her profile. I reached out to block it. “Don’t look at me, watch the road.” Then that truck came at us.

When I woke up three days later, my body was wrapped in bandages and I couldn’t move. She sat by the bed, her eyes so swollen they were almost shut. When she saw me open my eyes, she burst into tears. “You scared me to death.” Later the doctor told me that my endocrine system was damaged in the car accident. I’d need to take hormone medication long-term to maintain function. I asked about side effects. The doctor said I’d gain weight. I asked how much. The doctor said I might become unrecognizable. She stood beside me and gripped my hand. “It’s okay. I’ll love you no matter what you look like.” When she said this, her eyes were still bright. I believed her. But I didn’t expect the medication’s side effects to come so quickly. Three months—I gained twenty pounds. Six months—forty pounds. After a year, the man in the mirror had nothing to do with me anymore. From that point on, she stopped looking at my face much. Then one day I went to her company to find her and saw a young man standing beside her. That boy’s eyes looked very much like someone. It took me a long time to remember—they looked like mine from three years ago. She said he was a new intern named Costa. He was her first “assistant.” Later, she and he grew closer and closer. I started hearing gossip. I didn’t believe it. Until one day that intern resigned. She came home, held me, and cried, saying she was sorry, saying his eyes looked too much like mine, saying she was just confused for a moment. She said: “I still love you.” I believed her. Then we remarried. Six months later, she found a second one. A third, a fourth… Each one looked like me. Each one wasn’t me. I couldn’t understand it before. Later I understood. She never loved me as a person. She loved my face. When that face was gone, she had to look elsewhere. When she found someone who could piece together a part of it, she could hold on for a while. When she couldn’t hold on anymore, she’d come back to remarry me. Because no matter how many she found, she couldn’t piece together a complete me. So she had to come back, to confirm I was still here, to check in before going to find the next one. She wasn’t looking for substitutes. She was extending her own life. And I was her oxygen tank. When she ran out of air, she’d come back for a breath. When she’d had enough, she’d go out into the world to breathe. The airport announcement sounded. I stood up and dragged my suitcase toward the gate. Past the gate, I didn’t look back. The night wind was cold. I pulled my coat tighter. I found my seat by the window and sat down, looking out at the pitch-black night. My phone vibrated in my pocket—the new phone. Only my mom knew the number. I took it out and saw my mom’s message: “Cavanaugh, your dad already left. Be careful on the road.” “Okay.” “Did she contact you?” “Don’t know. I turned off my phone.” “What if she comes looking?” “She won’t. She doesn’t know I left.” “What if she finds out?” I looked out the window, thinking for a long time. “Even if she knows, it won’t matter. I’m not waiting anymore.” The plane taxied out onto the runway and rose into the night sky. This city, this woman, this eight-year relationship—all of it became nothing but distant lights. I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes. For the first time in eight years, I didn’t look back. After the gala ended, she returned home. She pushed open the door. The lights were still on. The living room was quiet. An agreement sat on the coffee table. She picked it up and flipped through a few pages. It was the divorce agreement, the ninth one. She’d already signed it without even looking. But tucked inside this agreement was another paper—a gift contract. It stated: I voluntarily gift my only jointly owned property, one house, entirely and freely to the woman. The signature was my name. The date was today. She held that paper, her fingers beginning to tremble. She rushed into the bedroom. All my clothes were gone from the closet. My computer was gone from the study. My toothbrush was gone from the bathroom. She pulled out her phone and dialed my number. Powered off. She tried again. Still powered off. She called my mom. No answer. She panicked. Really panicked. Every previous divorce, I’d kept my phone on, waiting for her call, waiting for her to come back. But not this time. She rushed out and drove around the city searching. She went to that noodle shop. The owner said he hadn’t seen me today. She went to that old fifty-square-foot apartment. Inside it was dusty, clearly no one had been there in a long time. She went to the gym I used to frequent. The receptionist said I hadn’t been there in three months. She searched every place she could think of. Nothing. As dawn approached, she stopped by the roadside, gripping the steering wheel with both hands, her whole body shaking. Then her phone rang. She grabbed it frantically.

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After attending my best friend Mary’s birthday party, I had just lain down when my phone pushed a hot post notification. [Help me think of a disgusting birthday gift, around $200, I need to give it to my bestie the day after tomorrow.] Netizens offered all sorts of nasty suggestions, but she rejected each one, saying none were disgusting enough. Finally, she pinned her own reply: [Thanks everyone. Her boyfriend said he’ll help me get revenge the day after tomorrow and plans to make her publicly humiliate herself.] Netizens immediately sensed something was off. [What’s your relationship with your bestie’s boyfriend? Why would he help you?] The poster sent several eye-roll emojis, her tone arrogant: [His first kiss was mine, his first time was mine too.] [Every year he lets me choose my Christmas gift first. The diamond ring he bought for his girlfriend cost over a hundred thousand dollars, but it’s engraved with mine and his initials.] After reading it, I felt both absurd and disgusted. I enlarged the poster’s profile picture. In the image, two people’s fingers were interlocked, a diamond ring dazzling. My heart sank sharply, all the blood in my body suddenly freezing. That diamond ring was the one my boyfriend Marcus and I had custom-made together in France six months ago.

I sat dazed for a long time, until my phone screen automatically went dark. Just an hour ago, Marcus had looked at Mary, completely drunk in his arms, frowned and said to me: “Matthias, look how drunk she is. I’ll call you a cab, I’ll take her home.” I hadn’t drunk much. The night breeze sobered me up. Out of habit, I nodded, reminding Marcus to send me a message once he safely got Mary home. But it was only a half-hour drive. The voice calls I made to check in, the messages I sent—all sank like stones into the sea. Now looking at Mary’s post. She was wide awake. Even the drunkenness was fake. My phone buzzed. Marcus’s message popped up: [Princess Matthias, have safely delivered your bestie home.] [Your knight is coming right back.] I didn’t reply. I clicked back into the post and enlarged the profile picture. That was the ring I had personally designed, revised ten times, one of a kind. The watch on that male wrist was a limited edition Patek Philippe—the New Year’s gift I’d given Marcus this year. The jade bracelet on that female wrist was from a raw stone I’d personally selected in Myanmar and had polished. She and I each had one. Someone asked: [What did your bestie do to you?] She replied: [Today’s my birthday. My bestie is so rich, but she just gave me a bag and didn’t treat everyone like she used to!] Someone else was confused: [Aren’t you afraid your bestie will find out about what you’re doing with her boyfriend?] [During that sophomore year trip, I gave her boyfriend advice on how to win her over, but required him to do it with me seven times first. Her boyfriend agreed immediately.] [The next day my legs were so sore I couldn’t climb the Alaska mountain. My idiot bestie thought I was on my period and even felt sorry for me, making her boyfriend carry me up the mountain.] I stared at those piercing lines, my stomach churning constantly. I still remembered that day. I kept pressing on her abdomen, worried: “Mary, if you’re not feeling well, just rest at the hotel.” Marcus had also gently urged in a rare soft voice: “Don’t push yourself. If you really want to climb, Matthias and I will bring you back next time.” Mary rolled her eyes at him and insisted on being stubborn. But after just two steps, her face went pale, so I had Marcus carry her. I blinked, my nose stinging, a string of tears falling onto my phone screen. I switched to WhatsApp, my thoughts in chaos, not knowing how to confront them. Just last week, Mary had been holding my hand, half-jokingly serious. As the Steve in our love story, she would definitely take the stage to denounce every crime of our public displays of affection. I had collapsed laughing in her arms, promising her my bouquet would only go to her. But I never imagined that these two people I trusted wholeheartedly would betray me together. Marcus, Mary, and I had known each other for twelve years. We took our high school graduation photos together. We took our college graduation photos together. When Marcus confessed to me in high school, Mary had angrily yelled at him: “Marcus! Are you so upset that Matthias got first place that you’re using this dirty trick to affect her studies?” I laughed helplessly and quickly pulled her back: “Mary, I actually got first place in the whole school this time thanks to Marcus explaining problems to me.” “You know I broke my leg. I relied entirely on him to help me with notes.” Back then, when I saw Mary’s complicated expression, I thought she was frustrated with me for not living up to expectations. In college, Marcus’s kindness to me was well known. He picked me up and dropped me off for class every day, remembered my period better than I did. His backpack was eighty percent full of things prepared for me. In junior year, Marcus was already planning our future. He meticulously wrote down plans for each year, proving he could become a man who could take care of me. These past years, he accomplished every step. He achieved a six-figure annual salary, maintained emotional stability, and could even do laundry and cook after work to take care of me. He accomplished selecting a diamond ring together with me, just waiting to propose this year, marry next year, have a child the year after. Every item in his plans included me. But outside the plans, there was also Mary.

The post had updated again. My finger uncontrollably clicked into it. [Actually, I’ve indirectly given her disgusting gifts before. Like the pearl bracelet on her wrist.] [During that period I wasn’t doing well at work, and her boyfriend and I played a bit rough in bed. That bracelet once broke inside my body. Her boyfriend didn’t care and still gave it to her.] My gaze uncontrollably drifted toward the vanity. That bracelet was the Christmas gift Marcus gave me this year, saying it was a limited edition pearl bracelet he bought. [Also, this Christmas, her boyfriend chose to bring me home to meet his parents.] [The gold bracelet on my right wrist was given to me by his mother.] [He said he couldn’t marry me, so he had to compensate me in other ways.] Boom—my mind went completely blank. His mother’s simple face and apologetic expression still seemed before my eyes: “When Marcus’s grandmother gave it to me, it was this silver bracelet.” When Marcus came back, it was already 1 AM. He reeked of Mary’s signature perfume. He smiled at me indulgently: “Waiting for me to blow-dry your hair?” I was about to confront him with a cold face when Mary video-called me. She drunkenly kissed the camera: “Matthias, I love you so much.” “I love this bag so much.” Her voice dropped. “I’m just too poor. Tomorrow’s your birthday, and I won’t be able to give you something this expensive back…” I coldly interrupted her: “Oh.” Seeing my expression was off, Mary froze. Marcus suddenly bear-hugged me, his face nestling in my neck, competing for my affection as always with Mary. “Matthias, the person who loves you most is clearly me…” As he spoke, his lips moved toward my face. Mary in the video suddenly shrieked, her phone falling. Marcus jerked toward my phone screen, his face instantly turning pale. No figure visible, no sound audible. He immediately rushed toward the entrance. His voice carried a panic and anxiety I’d never heard: “Matthias, something must have happened to Mary. I’m going to check!” A loud “bang.” I heard a soft laugh from the other end of the phone. The video was hung up. I opened that post again. The latest entry was full of malice directed at me. [She’s so stupid. Can’t tell I deliberately called her boyfriend away.] [Tomorrow’s her birthday, and she definitely won’t notice I’m deliberately disgusting her. So boring.] My heart felt like it had fallen into an ice cave, feeling cold all over. I lay on the couch with wet hair, eyes open until dawn. Playing on repeat in my mind was that trip when we climbed to the summit together. Mary shouted into the wind: “Marcus, you and Matthias will love each other forever.” Marcus glanced at her and shouted too: “Mary and Matthias will be best friends forever.” The 8 o’clock alarm rang on time. I opened WhatsApp and sent Marcus a message. [Marcus, let’s break up.] But the smart lock made a sound. Mary’s voice came through, rudely criticizing Marcus. “It’s all your fault for waking up late. We didn’t get to buy Matthias’s favorite ice cream cake.” “You’re the one who took forever, had to put on makeup to see Matthias.” Marcus retorted. “It’s because you exhausted me yesterday—” They were carrying seven or eight kinds of breakfast, smiling broadly. Seeing me lying on the couch, their voices stopped abruptly. What they were saying was self-evident. Marcus casually placed the breakfast on the table and chuckled: “My phone’s special ringtone just went off. Let me see what message Matthias sent me.”

He glanced at it, his face suddenly turning deathly pale. Mary leaned her head over. Their faces were inappropriately close. Her gaze shifted to my expressionless face, her tone taking on a playful quality: “Matthias, just because Marcus didn’t come home last night?” “I haven’t even blamed you yet. I accidentally fell, and you didn’t even care about me.” “And here I bought you breakfast early this morning.” Details I’d never noticed before, I now noticed completely. When did this ice cream cake from the east side of the city become my favorite? It was because Mary loved it, and he’d queue to buy it every time. Over time, I became the excuse, and it became my preference. I looked at Mary calmly, my tone flat: “Wasn’t it you who deliberately faked a fall to trick him over and keep him at your place?” “I heard your soft laugh.” “I saw the marks on both your necks.” Mary instinctively pulled up her collar. Marcus strode toward me, his Adam’s apple bobbing: “No, Matthias, you’ve misunderstood.” “Mary fainted from the fall yesterday. I took care of her all night, that’s why I didn’t come home.” “I promise it won’t happen again.” On the first day of living with Marcus, I made an agreement with him that he absolutely could not stay out all night. Past affection and former happiness made me just want to part ways amicably with them. Seeing their all-too-familiar faces, surging emotions flooded my brain. When I opened my mouth, I couldn’t control my choking voice. “Break up.” I couldn’t say any other words. Mary pushed Marcus hard, ordering: “Quickly kneel and apologize to Matthias.” She knelt down first with a thud: “No matter what it is, it’s not your fault anyway. I’ll apologize to you first, okay?” But Marcus suddenly yanked Mary up, his eyes full of heartache. Looking at me, his eyes held no guilt, only disappointment: “Matthias, apologize to Mary!” “We’ve both been indulging your emotions all along. We get tired too. Why can’t you be more mature?” “Why can’t you trust us the way we trust you?” It felt like something completely broke inside my heart. At this moment, only numbness remained. “You both betrayed me. Are you going to keep pretending?” “If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.” Mary pulled Marcus away. She loudly said near Marcus’s ear: “Let her process her emotions.” “Who knows who made her angry. She’s taking it out on us.” “Maybe she watched some stupid soap opera again and identified with the female lead.” I thought I’d been clear enough. Just as the slanderer knows best how wronged you are, the betrayer also knows best what they’ve done. But after I blew out my birthday candles and turned on the lights. The two of them stood side by side in the light, smiling. Mary acted as if nothing had happened, holding a huge internally carved crystal ornament in her arms. “Surprise!” She shoved it into my arms, smiling brightly: “I specially picked this for you. Do you like it?” Marcus knelt on one knee, holding up the diamond ring toward me, his eyes full of tenderness: “Matthias, marry me!” The diamond ring sparkled, drawing cheers. Someone shouted: “Accept it!”

I looked down. Inside the crystal ornament was an engraving of my figure. In the photo she chose, I was turning my head to the side, mouth half-open. The angle was so cunningly chosen that it captured the exact moment I looked most idiotic. She always loved catching unflattering candid photos of me, telling Marcus I was cute. Friends held up their phones filming me. Mary retreated behind Marcus, also holding up her phone aimed at me. Seeing the smile at the corner of her mouth, I also knew how ridiculous I looked—all dressed up, holding this ugly crystal emitting multicolored light. Marcus raised the ring even higher, his tone urgent: “Matthias, Mary specially bought you a gift to apologize too.” “Everyone’s watching. Haven’t you been looking forward to my proposal for a long time?” Apologize? I lowered my eyes. Marcus seemed unable to see how cheap and ugly what Mary gave me was. I wanted to laugh, but tears fell first. Marcus and Mary thought I was crying from being moved. I closed my eyes and raised my hand. Suddenly an ear-piercing burst of laughter erupted on the scene. Countless sprays of cream shot onto my face and body. White ribbons fell like a funeral. The cream stuck to my body was utterly inauspicious. Flashbulbs went crazy flashing. Marcus looked at Mary with an indulgent glance, then turned to me smiling: “Matthias, Mary and I lost a game of truth or dare, don’t—” My hand swung down hard, slapping across his face. The ring was knocked away, rolling into a corner. Mary shouted at me angrily: “It’s just a joke! Why did you hit Marcus?” “Slap—” I raised my hand again, a heavy slap landing on Mary’s face. Everyone finally noticed something was wrong with me and began to intervene. “Matthias, it’s your birthday today. Making such a scene, if word gets out… it’s too undignified.” “What’s wrong with you and Marcus? You’re about to become family. Can’t you give him some face?” “Mary didn’t do anything, right? Did you really need to hit someone?” Marcus’s face darkened: “I’m fine. Matthias, quickly apologize to Mary!” “She was so thoughtful preparing a gift for you. Yesterday she even knelt for you for no reason.” I lowered my head, hiding the mockery in my eyes. The huge screen suddenly displayed a file. Opening it revealed screenshots of all the posts Mary had made. Marcus still didn’t understand. He was still lecturing me: “Yesterday you threw a tantrum for no reason. I didn’t even want to propose to you. I wanted you to calm down and realize your mistake.” “It was Mary who kept persuading me, saying today is your birthday. If she and I didn’t show up, you’d definitely lose face.” “Mary usually plays the fool to make you laugh. Now you can’t even take a joke?” As he spoke, Marcus smeared cream on his own face, then dotted some on Mary’s nose, as if comforting a tantrum-throwing child: “Now we all look like this. Not angry anymore, right?” “With a temper like yours, how will you be a mother in the future?” I stared straight at Marcus, saying coldly: “Marcus, turn around and look at the big screen.” He turned around. The first thing he saw was his chat history with Mary. Marcus: [Keep the baby.] Mary: [I don’t want to. She’s my best friend.] Mary: [If I really have it, the three of us are completely done. Do you know how much pain she’ll be in?] Marcus: [But aren’t you in pain?] Mary: [Don’t forget, she also lost a child because of us.]

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I loved him for ten years, but I accidentally witnessed my husband Ethan and a female streamer making out in the elevator. When I confronted him with red-rimmed eyes, he said: “I still love you, but you’re old and boring now.” Ethan turned and pulled his mistress close: “Sophie is young, and… she looks a bit like you. That’s proof enough that I still love you.” I was infuriated by his absurd logic. So in his eyes, cheating was his way of showing devotion to me. I immediately posted photos of him and his mistress cheating online. But Ethan locked me in the basement and forced me to kneel and apologize to Sophie. I continued to fight back, and he continued to force me to apologize. Until the tenth time, when Ethan once again forced me to publicly clear things up for that female streamer. I pulled out the divorce papers and chose to compromise. Charlotte POV When Ethan once again forced me to publicly clear things up for that female streamer. I chose to compromise. His hand paused slightly while adjusting his tie. After a long moment, he smirked: “What, being so obedient this time?” “Did you finally realize that making a scene is useless, so you’re trying a new tactic?” I opened Ins and spoke calmly: “No, I just don’t want to keep entangling anymore.” After a long silence, Ethan picked up the car keys from the table. Leaning against the entrance, he said unhurriedly: “Actually, there’s no rush.” “It’s mainly because Sophie is in a critical period for the Golden Microphone Award selection.” “You always use the title of Mrs. Walker to pressure her. It’s really annoying.” I didn’t answer. Word by word. I seriously posted the tenth clarification statement in five years on that account with only a few hundred followers. Admitting I was being unreasonable, admitting Sophie and Ethan were just a simple boss-subordinate relationship. After posting, I said: “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.” Ethan’s figure paused slightly, as if thinking about something. A moment later, he straightened up, his voice carrying a barely perceptible irritation: “That’s for the best.” “Otherwise… you know the consequences.” My body trembled involuntarily. Last time I refused to compromise and went to the TV station to confront him. I was directly mocked on Sophie’s live show as a crazy woman with extreme control issues. Afterward, her millions of fans dug up my gallery address and splashed paint on it for three whole days. When he heard about my gallery going bankrupt. Ethan was just like this, watching me break down with complete calm. Then he raised an eyebrow and dropped a line: “Charlotte, have you learned your lesson?” How strange. It was so humiliating and hopeless at the time. But thinking back on it now. My heart felt nothing. As the door closed, Ethan left. He was rushing to celebrate with his new love. I had no time for sadness. With trembling hands, I opened my phone messages. Two messages popped up on the screen. One from the bank: [Your supplementary card has been unfrozen.] The other from the emergency room ten minutes ago: [Ms. Harper, if the surgery fee isn’t paid soon, the ICU equipment will be adjusted according to procedure if further delayed.] I stared at those words, my fingertips cold. I took a deep breath and quickly transferred all the newly unfrozen money into the hospital account. Watching the successful transfer screen, I collapsed onto the cold floor. That clarification post on Ins was the only bargaining chip I had to keep Grandma alive. As long as the money arrived, the equipment wouldn’t be removed, and Grandma could hold on until surgery day. I lifted the back of my hand to wipe the cold sweat from my forehead, my gaze falling on the critical condition notice the caregiver had just sent. The red danger character stung my eyes. Only then did I realize. I could finally let go of this relationship. On the TV screen. Sophie was hosting “Metropolitan Observer,” the number one rated show nationwide, smiling with intellectual elegance. She gradually overlapped with the memory of that timid intern who used to follow me calling me Ms. Harper. Ethan had one thing right. Sophie was indeed in a critical period for the Golden Microphone Award selection. Those rumors about her being a homewrecker not only didn’t affect her. Instead, her team used them for publicity. A few lines she said on the show about daring to love and hate were clipped into short videos and spread everywhere. Fans praised her as a clear-headed, independent strong female lead. But the first time I discovered Ethan’s change of heart. It came from Sophie actively crossing boundaries. At that time, in Ethan’s study, I saw Sophie’s late-night makeup test photos she’d sent him. During that period, all the socialite wives I knew were advising me. Advising me to be magnanimous. But I hated that Ethan betrayed our vows. Hated that he forgot who stayed up late writing business proposals for him until she had a stomach bleed during his most difficult startup days. Yet he himself took a substitute who looked a bit like my younger self, thriving in high society. I was unwilling and refused to compromise. Until that time, I confronted him with the contract for the multi-million dollar mansion he’d given Sophie. The matter blew up big. To protect Sophie’s public image. Ethan decisively chose to suppress the news and locked me in the villa for a whole week. At that time, the entire finance section was praising the Walker Group CEO’s business empire. I was so provoked I went crazy, screaming at Ethan when he came home. Ethan patiently let Sophie leave first, which made me break down even more. I threw that property deed with Sophie’s name on it in his face, calling him an immoral bastard. In the end, he said coldly: “Yes! I am keeping her, so what? If you can’t take it, then get lost!” When those words landed, both he and I froze. But in the end, I was the first to speak. I became even more hysterical than before. “Why should I be the one to leave?!” “Why should I fulfill you and that bitch?!” “Ethan Walker, you owe me for life! You and her should be condemned forever!!!”

Charlotte POV After that argument, we parted on bad terms. Ethan didn’t even come home anymore. The only way I could know his whereabouts was through Sophie’s talk show previews. Under multiple blows, I made an extreme decision to drag them both to hell. I compiled evidence of Ethan’s suspected irregular operations during his startup period, as well as Sophie’s use of charity funds for money laundering. Planning to send it directly to the regulatory department. But before I could click send on the email, Ethan made his move. He not only froze all my supplementary cards. He also used his connections to cut off the imported medicine supply for my grandmother in the ICU. That was the last lifeline keeping Grandma alive. The moment I learned the news, I broke down. I didn’t even notice the provocative post Sophie made on Ins. I frantically dialed his number and screamed: “Ethan Walker, you clearly know Grandma’s surgery is this week!” “You clearly know stopping the medicine will kill her!” “How can you be so heartless?!” But Ethan remained unmoved. The sound of papers rustling came through the phone, terrifyingly calm. Only after I collapsed exhausted on the cold floor. Did he speak casually: “Charlotte, don’t expect me to go easy on you.” “You know, Sophie’s new show still needs a newsworthy guest.” “Tonight at eight, come to the station to record a clarification interview. As long as you perform well, the medicine will naturally be renewed.” In that moment, my heart suffocated like never before. I couldn’t even believe the cold-blooded man on the phone. Was once the boy who ran through half the city in a snowstorm just to buy me a cake. It was also in that moment I finally understood. The Ethan who loved me had long been dead. Dead in the decadence of fame and fortune. For Grandma, I could only wipe my tears. It was also that day, looking at my haggard self in the mirror. I finally decided to end this marriage that had made me unrecognizable. But what made me miserable was far from over. Grandma’s illness couldn’t wait. I could only choose to compromise. That night at eight, I appeared on time at the TV station’s studio. The moment the spotlight came on, I felt a moment of disorientation. Once, I was a regular here. When Ethan first took over the group’s media division, countless all-nighters were spent with me in the corner of this studio, helping him revise scripts and supervising rehearsals. Back then the staff respectfully called me Ms. Harper. But now, I sat on a cold bench at the edge of the guest seats. While Sophie sat in the main seat, wearing a pure white business suit with exquisite makeup. The live broadcast began. Sophie smiled warmly at the camera: “Today we have a special guest. She was once Mr. Walker’s capable assistant, but for various reasons, regrettably departed. Let’s welcome Ms. Charlotte Harper.” She emphasized the words “regrettably departed” heavily. Immediately after, a series of photos appeared on the big screen behind me. They were candid photos of me without makeup from the past few years when I was exhausted, contrasted with Sophie’s polished and retouched images. Sophie pretended to be shocked and covered her mouth: “I heard your mental state hasn’t been very good recently, always imagining non-existent business disputes. Actually, Mr. Walker has always been very understanding toward you, even keeping a nominal position for you at the company.” “Look, this is the mental health fund Mr. Walker set up for you. As long as you’re willing to cooperate with treatment…” She took out a document and waved it in front of the camera. That wasn’t any fund document at all—it was clearly a mental evaluation application. I jerked my head up to look at Ethan in the audience. He sat in the first row, hands folded, watching all this coldly. Tacitly agreeing that I was a lunatic. My hand holding the microphone was trembling. I wanted to refute. But a cold prompt came through my earpiece from the director: “Ms. Harper, if you don’t want the hospital to lose power, please answer according to the script.” That was Grandma’s ventilator lifeline! There absolutely couldn’t be a power outage! I closed my eyes and swallowed my hatred. Under the gaze of millions of viewers, I nodded mechanically: “Yes… my mental state isn’t good.” “I misunderstood Ms. Sophie.” “I… don’t deserve Ethan Walker.” In that moment, the comments exploded. The studio’s big screen scrolled real-time viewer comments, each one cutting to the heart: “OMG, so she’s crazy? I knew there was no way Goddess Sophie could be a homewrecker.” “This woman looks abnormal. No wonder Mr. Walker dumped her.” “A mental patient coming out to attack people? Suggest sending her straight to the asylum, don’t let her harm society!” “Crowdfunding to send her in, I’ll contribute five bucks!” “I’ll contribute ten bucks to cleanse Mr. Walker’s eyes!” That half-hour live broadcast felt like a lifetime. The moment the director called cut, Sophie immediately dropped her compassionate facade. She walked up to me and in a voice only we could hear, laughed contemptuously: “Charlotte, you see, this is how public opinion works now.” “As long as I control the narrative, I can make black seem white.” “Mr. Walker values his reputation. Your so-called past affection is worthless compared to my ratings.” I walked out of the TV station in a daze. The night wind was cold, making my bones ache. I thought this was rock bottom. As long as I could save Grandma, enduring some humiliation was nothing. At least I still had Grandma. But fate loves to torment the unfortunate.

Charlotte POV After that live broadcast, I became the despised wealthy madwoman of the entire internet. I didn’t dare look at my phone, didn’t even dare miss a single call from the hospital. I could only shut myself in my rental apartment in a daze. That villa where Ethan and I had lived for five years—I could never go back. It was now filled with Sophie’s presence. Even the lilies I’d planted were dug up and replaced with her favorite tulips. I thought hiding away would bring me peace. But I underestimated human malice and the madness of Sophie’s die-hard fans. In just one day, my address, phone number, and even the hospital room number where Grandma stayed were all dug up by Sophie’s fans. On the third morning, I was just preparing to cook and take food to the hospital. The moment I opened the door, a bucket of stinking red paint splashed toward me. Though I instinctively dodged, I was still splattered with quite a bit. Outside the door, several young girls wearing masks were frantically taking photos of me with their phones, cursing: “It’s her! That crazy woman who slandered Sophie!” “Looking so shabby, she dares to bully our goddess?” “Sisters, teach her a lesson and wake her up!” Flashlights went crazy, blinding me. Before I could explain, someone pushed me. I fell miserably onto the paint-covered ground, my knees hitting the cement floor. The pain was excruciating. But I couldn’t care about the pain. I desperately protected the thermos in my arms—the food I’d made for Grandma was still hot. “What are you doing? This is illegal!” I screamed. A mocking laugh came from the crowd: “Oh, you know about the law? Why didn’t you think about the law when you were slandering people online?” “We’re punishing you!” In the chaos, someone kicked over the thermos. I watched the mess on the ground, and tears finally couldn’t help falling. That was the last little thing I could do for Grandma, and they destroyed it. I struggled to get up, to rush out. The hospital hadn’t called me yet. I had to go check on Grandma. But this group of people surrounded me like an iron barrel, not leaving me any gap. Just as I was despairing, my phone suddenly rang. It was the emergency room at the hospital. The ringtone sounded weak yet piercing amid the noisy cursing. I frantically pushed away the person in front of me and answered with trembling hands. “Ms. Harper! Come quickly! The patient’s condition has deteriorated!” “Someone splashed paint in the hospital room. Your grandmother was frightened and is being resuscitated now!” In that instant, my world collapsed. Splashing paint in a hospital room? How dare they?! That was the ICU! A place that saves lives! I don’t know where I found the strength. I pushed away a girl blocking me and rushed out of the crowd desperately. Behind me came the girls’ screams and curses: “The crazy woman is hitting people! Call the police!” I couldn’t hear anymore. My mind was filled only with the doctor’s words. I frantically tried to hail a car on the roadside. But not a single car was willing to stop for a madwoman covered in red paint. In desperation, I dialed Ethan’s number. This was my last hope. He grew up under Grandma’s care. Grandma once sold her only jewelry to help him with tuition. He couldn’t ignore this. Even for old times’ sake, he absolutely wouldn’t stand by and watch someone die. Finally, the call connected. Just as I was about to cry out for help, a woman’s voice came through: “Ms. Harper?” “What bad timing. Ethan is taking a shower.” “You know, last night’s celebration was exhausting. He just went to sleep.” “Whatever it is, let’s talk tomorrow.” The call ended. I stood on the street holding my phone. Heavy rain poured down, washing away the paint on my body but unable to wash away the bone-deep cold in my heart.

Charlotte POV The rain kept falling. I begged a kind truck driver to take me to the hospital. But when I stumbled into the inpatient building, everything was already too late. Yellow police tape was pulled up at the elevator entrance. Several security guards stood around with serious expressions. I frantically tried to rush in but was held back firmly. “What are you doing? You can’t go in!” “Please, I’m a patient’s family member! My grandmother is being resuscitated! Let me in!” My face was covered in rainwater mixed with paint, my voice hoarse beyond recognition. The security guard frowned and was about to drive me away when a nurse happened to pass by and recognized me. She spoke a few words to the security guard in a low voice and pulled me through the staff passage. She looked at me with complex eyes—eyes filled with sympathy and pity. “Ms. Harper… there’s no need to go in.” She said softly. Those few short words were like a thunderbolt, shattering me completely. I stood frozen in place, opening my mouth but unable to make a sound. No need to go in… what did that mean? The nurse turned her head away, unable to bear looking at me: “Just now a group of people caused trouble outside the hospital room, throwing things and shining laser pointers at the patient’s eyes…” “Your grandmother already had a weak heart. She was frightened, and… and she kept calling your name. She couldn’t catch her breath.” “They tried to resuscitate her for half an hour but couldn’t save her.” I don’t know how I made it to the morgue entrance. That kind old woman who used to warm my hands in her armpits during winter now lay quietly on a cold metal bed. Covered with a white sheet. With trembling hands, I lifted a corner of the white sheet. Grandma’s eyes were still half-open, as if she died with unfinished business, or as if she was waiting for someone. “Grandma…” I knelt on the ground and pressed my face against her already cold hand. Tears burst forth but no sound came out. The caregiver who had been looking after Grandma walked over with red eyes and handed me a crumpled plastic bag. “Ms. Harper, this is what your grandmother was clutching tightly before she passed.” “She said… this is money for you, telling you not to wrong yourself.” I opened the bag with trembling hands. Inside was a stack of small bills and a credit card. The credit card had only thirty thousand dollars. That was what Grandma had saved penny by penny over these years through frugal living. She knew I wasn’t doing well at the Walker house, knew Ethan had changed. She wanted to leave me a way out. But I didn’t even see her one last time. I could even imagine her fear in the last moments of her life, surrounded by those cyber bullies. She was waiting for me. Waiting for the me she’d protected since childhood to save her. But I didn’t come. And the man she once loved was now holding the murderer who killed her, dreaming sweet dreams. I clutched that stack of bills still warm with body heat and sat on the cold morgue floor all night. The next morning, the rain stopped. I walked out of the hospital and looked at the rising sun. The sunlight was blinding, shining on me but without a trace of warmth. I took out my phone and looked at the dozens of missed calls, all from the hospital. Ethan’s chat box still stopped at last night’s message: “Sophie is timid. Don’t call and scare her.” I looked at that line of text and suddenly found it funny. Really funny. I laughed out loud, laughed until tears flowed, laughed until my stomach cramped. It was in that moment. A certain corner of my heart completely collapsed. The Charlotte who loved Ethan Walker died in last night’s rainy night.

Charlotte POV During the three days I handled Grandma’s funeral, I disappeared. There was no funeral service. I went to the crematorium alone and watched Grandma turn into a small box. Then I scattered her ashes in the river she loved most in life. After doing all this, I returned to that villa. I walked into the bedroom and started packing. My clothes, gifts Ethan gave me. Even our wedding photos—I threw everything into black garbage bags. Only keeping Grandma’s bankbook close to me. At eight in the evening, Ethan came back. He reeked of alcohol, obviously just coming from some party. Seeing me sitting in the empty living room, he paused, frowning: “Where have you been these past few days? Not answering calls either.” “Sophie said you called her that night? Didn’t I tell you she was preparing for interviews, not to disturb her?” He loosened his tie while complaining casually, his tone carrying a natural sense of reproach. I sat on the sofa, quietly watching him. Watching this face I’d loved for a full ten years. At this moment, it felt terrifyingly unfamiliar. “Ethan.” I spoke. “Let’s get divorced.” “I’ve already submitted the divorce registration. Whether you sign or not, it will go through the court process.” Ethan’s movements paused, then he laughed mockingly and threw his tie on the sofa. “This again? Charlotte, are you kidding me or what?” “Still making a fuss three days later over a stupid award? How long are you going to keep this up?” He obviously thought I was still angry about the live broadcast. I took out the divorce agreement I’d already printed from my bag and placed it on the coffee table. “I’ve already signed. I don’t have any demands regarding property division.” “As long as you sign, I’ll leave right now.” Ethan’s eyes finally turned cold. He picked up the agreement and glanced at it, as if he’d heard the funniest joke: “Leave with nothing? Charlotte, are you insane?” “Without me, where can you go?” He didn’t believe at all that I would really leave. In his eyes, without him, Ethan Walker, I, Charlotte Harper, was like a dodder vine without water—couldn’t survive three days. “That’s none of Mr. Walker’s concern.” I stood up, picked up my already packed suitcase, and walked straight toward the door. Ethan was enraged by my attitude. He strode over and grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight it felt like he wanted to crush my bones. “Charlotte! Stop right there!” “I’m giving you a way out and you’re taking it! Don’t be ungrateful!” “Next week Sophie and I are going to the Maldives. You come too. Consider it my apology. Will that work?” I looked down at my wrist, now red from his grip, and suddenly smiled. “Mr. Walker, your apology is too valuable. I can’t afford it.” “Also, let go.” “Otherwise, I’ll call the police right now and report you for marital rape.” Ethan looked at me in disbelief, as if seeing me for the first time. After a few seconds of standoff, he roughly let go of my hand, his face dark enough to drip water. “Fine, impressive.” “Walk out that door and don’t even think about coming back to beg me!” “I want to see just how long you can keep this up.” I didn’t look at him again. I pulled my suitcase and walked out the front door. Sitting in the taxi, I took out my backup phone and dialed a number. “Police?” “Regarding evidence that Walker Group is suspected of using shell companies to launder money for a certain foundation, I’ve compiled everything.” “I want to file a real-name report that Sophie incited fans to cyberbully someone to death.” “All the evidence is on that USB drive.”

Charlotte POV Early the next morning, I didn’t go to the police station. Because I knew that the moment I stepped through that door, Ethan would be notified. With his power and influence, there were ninety-nine ways I could disappear. So I went back to the villa. Ethan was sitting at the dining table eating breakfast. Seeing me return, a trace of expected mockery flashed in his eyes. “What, figured it out so quickly?” “I knew it. Without me, you can’t even afford breakfast.” He put down his coffee, his tone resuming that condescending sense of charity. I placed my suitcase in the entryway, changed into slippers, and even smiled at him: “I have figured it out, Mr. Walker.” “Yesterday I was impulsive. After all, we’re married—no need to make things too ugly.” Ethan raised an eyebrow, obviously satisfied with my sensibility. “Tear up that divorce agreement. Tonight Sophie has a gala. Come with me.” I nodded obediently, then walked into the kitchen and heated him a glass of milk as usual. Just when my back was turned to him, I crushed a sleeping pill and mixed it into the milk. Ethan drank it without suspicion. Half an hour later, he fell into a deep sleep on the study sofa. Using his fingerprint, I opened the safe that only he could access. Inside were not only Walker Group’s core secrets but also the original ledgers of Sophie’s money laundering through charity projects over the years, as well as Ethan’s stock market manipulation records done secretly to promote her. Once these things were exposed, they would be enough to bring down the entire Walker empire. I copied all the data onto a hard drive I’d prepared in advance. And set a timed send. The send time was set for the climax of Sophie’s party. After finishing all this, I restored everything to its original state and even thoughtfully covered Ethan with a blanket. Looking at his face that appeared cold even in sleep, I felt only deathly silence in my heart. At two in the afternoon, Ethan woke up. He rubbed his temples, only feeling that he’d slept unusually deeply, but didn’t think much of it. Seeing I was still home, he was in a good mood and casually tossed me a black card: “Go buy an outfit. Tonight’s gala is very important.” “Sophie is announcing her promotion to deputy director tonight. Remember to congratulate her.” He truly perfected humiliation. I took the card and responded meekly: “Okay, I’ll give her an unforgettable gift.” Ethan smiled, thinking I genuinely wanted to please Sophie. “Charlotte, as long as you’re sensible, the position of Mrs. Walker will always be yours.” With that, he got up to handle company matters. Watching his car leave the villa. I turned around, cut that black card in half, and threw it in the trash. Then, pulling my already prepared suitcase, I left without looking back. Afternoon. Terminal 3. I sat in a corner of the departure hall, watching planes take off and land through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The boarding announcement came through the speakers. My phone screen lit up. It was a video call from Ethan. I hesitated for a second, then answered anyway. I wanted one last look at him celebrating at hell’s gate. The video connected. The screen showed a magnificent ballroom. Ethan wore a perfectly tailored black suit, holding champagne, with Sophie in a red dress looking stunning on his arm. The background was full of flattering voices and camera flashes. “Charlotte, why aren’t you here yet?” Ethan frowned slightly. Even through the screen I could feel his displeasure. “Sophie’s speech is about to start. All the city’s media are here. As my ex-wife, your absence makes me look bad.” Sophie also leaned over and smiled fakely at the camera: “That’s right. Everyone’s waiting for you. Tonight is my highlight moment. It won’t be perfect without your blessing.” Looking at them, I felt like I was watching two clowns. “Ethan.” I spoke. “I’m not coming.” “But the big gift I prepared for you will arrive in ten minutes.” Ethan paused, then laughed mockingly. He obviously thought I meant an actual gift, even teasing somewhat: “Okay, looks like you really have learned to behave.” “As long as the gift is substantial enough, I’m not unwilling to forgive your previous tantrums.” “If you want to go out and clear your head, that’s fine too. When you figure things out and come back, the Walker family will still have a place for you.” Even now. He still thought my so-called leaving was just throwing a tantrum. Still thought I, Charlotte Harper, couldn’t leave him, Ethan Walker. “Ethan.” I called his name again. “Enjoy these last two minutes.” “Because after tonight, you’ll never have another chance to talk to me like this.” The smile on Ethan’s face froze. He seemed to finally sense something was wrong. “Charlotte, what do you mean?” “What are you doing?!” I didn’t answer again. I hung up directly. Then, in front of the security cameras, I pulled out my SIM card. With two fingers I snapped it in half. I casually threw both the phone and broken card into the nearby recycling bin. The announcement came through again: “The flight to London is about to depart. Passengers who have not yet boarded, please hurry…” I pulled my suitcase and turned toward the gate. On the big screen behind me, the live broadcast of Sophie’s party had just switched on.

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I’d been secretly married to Charlie for six years, and this was the eighteenth time he’d refused to take wedding photos with me, using his busy work schedule as an excuse. As I removed my makeup and changed out of my wedding dress, preparing to leave, I unexpectedly heard Charlie’s voice. “Bring out all the most beautiful wedding dresses in your shop today. I want to take the most beautiful wedding photos with my wife.” My heart leapt with joy, and I blushed. I never expected Charlie to say such romantic words. I pulled back the curtain of the dressing room, about to call out to him, when I heard the attendant’s flattering voice. “Mr. Charlie, rest assured. Your wife is as beautiful as a celebrity. She’ll definitely be the most gorgeous bride.” The smile froze on my face. The manager wasn’t complimenting me, but another woman Charlie had his arm around. At that moment, our eyes met. His gaze shifted away guiltily. Seeing me emerge, the manager turned to me. “Miss Jenny, your husband doesn’t have time today. Should I schedule your shoot for next week instead?” I shook my head. “No need.” A flash of embarrassment crossed the manager’s face. “But we don’t refund deposits. If next week doesn’t work, how about next month? That would be fine too.” “No need. He got into a car accident today and died. He won’t have time ever again.”

The manager’s face went pale. “How could this happen so suddenly? Didn’t he just say he was too busy with work to make it?” “Miss Jenny, given your special circumstances, I can apply to see if we can refund your deposit.” I shook my head, a dense, prickling pain spreading through my chest. Charlie and I had a secret marriage. No ceremony, no wedding banquet. Even our friends and family didn’t know. That’s why I was obsessed with taking wedding photos. In six years of secret marriage, he’d refused me eighteen times, claiming he was too busy with work. But now, he was here taking wedding photos with someone else. Seeing my silence, the manager assumed I was in shock from my husband’s death and carefully supported me. “Miss Jenny, are you alright?” I suppressed the sour feeling in my throat, my voice hoarse. “I’m fine. Keep the deposit.” With that, I walked step by step toward Charlie. He took a guilty step back. A mocking smile appeared at the corner of my mouth, then I turned and walked out the door. That evening, he came home with a bouquet of red roses, his face showing a rare hint of flattery. “Jenny, you did great today. Thank you. Eve is sensitive. If you’d made a scene, I don’t know how much she would have cried.” “Didn’t you want to vacation in Hawaii? Once I get through this busy period, I’ll take you there.” A tear slid down my cheek. The scene I’d dreamed of could be realized so easily. My husband coming home from work with flowers, gently promising to take me to Hawaii. I should have been happy, if I hadn’t discovered his affair. I didn’t answer his question. Instead, I asked, “Why her?” Eve. My stepsister. Back then, to force my mother to divorce, she and her mother had joined forces and driven my mother to her death. She was my mother’s killer. Charlie knew full well that I hated her most. He could have cheated with anyone, but choosing her hurt me the most. Tears fell like beans as my voice began to tremble. “You know I hate her most of all. What did I do wrong that you would treat me like this?” Hearing this, Charlie frowned, his tone impatient. “Jenny, that’s all in the past. You can’t blame Eve for your mother’s death. She was just a child then.” “If you want to blame someone, blame your mother for being too weak. She couldn’t handle it, so she killed herself.” My vision gradually blurred. I stared in shock at the man who had promised to protect me for life. I never imagined he could say such things.

A slap landed across his face. I knew we could never go back. “Let’s get divorced.” After being slapped, Charlie could no longer control his temper. He looked at me furiously. “Jenny, I’ve put up with you for a long time. Why are you so stubborn? Why can’t you just let the past go?” “Your mother has been dead for ten years. All these years, you’ve been making things difficult for everyone, making yourself miserable and dragging others down with you.” “Back then, your father stopped loving your mother long ago. If she’d agreed to divorce earlier, things wouldn’t have turned out that way.” “It was all caused by her personality. She got what she deserved. You can’t blame anyone.” Hearing him insult my mother again, I completely lost control. Like an enraged lion, I rushed at him, my fists flailing wildly against his body. “Shut up! Don’t you dare talk about my mother like that!” “It was that pair of shameless mother and daughter who drove my mother to death! They’re shameless! Shameless!” Smack! I was violently slapped and pushed to the ground. My forehead hit the coffee table, instantly breaking the skin. Liquid slid down from my forehead. Charlie was terrified. He rushed over worriedly to support me, regret flashing in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Jenny. I didn’t mean to. I was so angry I lost control.” “I’ll take you to the hospital right now. You’ll be fine. Don’t be scared.” Seeing him so worried about me, I felt momentarily dazed. It seemed like the man who put me first had never left. After my mother died, I lived a painful life at home. My father didn’t care about me. Eve and her mother constantly found ways to torment me. On rainy days, they’d kick me out of the house, or “accidentally” push me down the stairs. In that dark childhood, Charlie was my only light. For my sake, he’d rush into my house with a stick to confront Eve and her mother. Even when his father tied him up and beat him for it, he never made a sound. Thinking of how good he’d been to me, I suddenly wanted to give him a chance. My eyes pleaded. “Charlie, please don’t be with Eve, okay?” Charlie’s eyes flickered. He opened his mouth to speak when his phone rang. A familiar voice came through the receiver. “Charlie, my mom found out about us. She’s going to break my legs. Come save me, quick.” Then came a miserable scream, and the call disconnected. Charlie anxiously stood up, knocking me over again without even noticing. The worry in his eyes wounded me once more. I crawled on the floor and grabbed his pant leg. “Charlie, please don’t go.” Charlie pushed me away, his eyes full of conflicted panic. “Jenny, go to the hospital and get bandaged up yourself. Something happened to Eve. I have to go save her.” With that, he strode away without looking back. I laughed bitterly and collapsed to the floor, letting the blood from my head drip down drop by drop. Eve’s mother had stolen my mother’s husband. Now Eve was stealing mine. But I couldn’t be like my mother, ending up dead by suicide over a man. After a while, my phone received a friend request from an unfamiliar account. The profile picture showed Eve in a wedding dress kissing Charlie’s face. Both looked deeply affectionate. I wanted to see what she had to say, so I accepted. She said nothing, just sent me a video. In the footage, Charlie was kneeling on the ground, making promises to Eve’s mother. “I will never let Eve down. I’ll give her a grand wedding.”

“But I heard Jenny has been living in your villa all along. Aren’t you two already married? I won’t let my daughter be a mistress.” Facing Eve’s mother’s interrogation, Charlie raised his palm in oath. “Jenny and I have no relationship whatsoever. I only let her live at my place out of pity, to help me clean.” “If Eve doesn’t like it, I’ll make her move out immediately.” The video stopped abruptly. The wedding I’d begged for in vain, he could so easily give to someone else. Six years of secret marriage, only to be told we had no relationship at all. Charlie, you gave up on our relationship, so I don’t want you anymore either. I dialed a number. “I agree to what you asked.” The next day, Charlie brought breakfast, his expression the same as last night’s. “Jenny, I stood in line to buy you breakfast. Mango smoothie and a sandwich. Come eat.” I’m allergic to mangoes, and Eve’s favorite is mango smoothies. Later, when she found out about my allergy, she deliberately put mango in my food. I ate it without noticing, then started having an allergic reaction. My whole body broke out in rashes, and my throat swelled so I couldn’t breathe. Eve deliberately told Dad I’d eaten it out of greed. Dad was so angry he whipped me before finally sending me to the hospital. After Charlie and I got together, for my sake, he stopped eating mangoes too. There had never been a single mango in the house. Now he’d forgotten. I knocked the breakfast from his hands. Charlie suppressed his anger, looking at me impatiently. “Jenny, I already bought you breakfast as an apology. What more do you want from me?” My expression was emotionless. “I’m allergic to mangoes.” Only then did he react, a flash of guilt in his eyes. “I was in such a rush this morning, I forgot. How about this—tell me what you want to eat and I’ll go buy it.” “No need. You only need to remember what Eve likes to eat.” Seeing my sarcastic tone, his expression hardened again. “You don’t need to be so passive-aggressive. Look at everyone in our circle. Who the hell stays faithful to just one woman?” “I’ve been married to you for six years, and I’ve only had one other woman. You should be grateful.” I froze. I never imagined he could say something so shameless. Caught cheating, he felt no guilt. Instead, he acted like I should understand him. It was completely absurd. Did he think that just by giving me the title of wife, I should be grateful and tolerate his infidelity? Seeing my silence, he assumed I’d compromised. His attitude softened considerably. “Good girl. You’re a smart woman. You know what’s best for yourself.” “I already promised Eve’s mother yesterday that I’d give Eve a grand wedding. Otherwise, her mother will beat her to death. But don’t worry, you’re still my legitimate wife.” “I’ve already cleaned up the West Hill villa. It’s quiet there. While I’m preparing the wedding these next few days, move there. Don’t worry, I’ll visit you often.” He’d finally said it out loud. I looked straight at him. “No need. I—” I wanted to say divorce, but he impatiently interrupted me before I could finish. “Alright, who else can you depend on besides me? Stop being so stubborn.” “I’m going to be late for work. Move there yourself.” I shook my head and started packing my things, clearing away all traces of myself from this home. I took out my phone to order a pickup service for my old belongings, when a new message popped up.

It was a beautiful wedding photo. The two people in the photo were Charlie and Eve. I hurriedly pulled out my own marriage certificate to compare. I collapsed on the spot. Marriage certificates are supposed to have an official seal. Mine and Charlie’s didn’t. It was fake. That meant Charlie and I had never been married. His claim that I was his legitimate wife was also a joke. I laughed until tears came. I couldn’t believe the man who’d protected me since childhood had deceived me for six years. No wonder he refused to make our marriage public or take wedding photos with me. It was all fake. “Do you know why Charlie used a fake certificate to deceive you?” Eve had appeared behind me at some point. She looked at me triumphantly. “Because he thinks you’re not good enough. You’re an embarrassment. So he lied to you, kept you hidden away. He never took you to meet family or friends. When people asked, he just said he took you in out of pity to work as his housekeeper.” “Jenny, your mother couldn’t compete with my mother, and you can’t compete with me either.” She grabbed my collar, her eyes full of malice. “Didn’t you call my mother a mistress? Didn’t you hate mistresses most? Look at yourself now! You’re the mistress. You’re the mistress between Charlie and me!” I shoved her away, eyes bloodshot, shouting, “I’m not the mistress! I’m not! You’re the mistress! You’re the one who destroyed us!” Eve laughed triumphantly. “But now the marriage certificate has my name and Charlie’s. If you keep clinging to him, then you’re the mistress! The mistress!” “No, I’m not! No!” I rushed at her like a madwoman, grabbing her clothes and shouting, “I’m not! You’re lying!” But she didn’t struggle. A vicious smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. “Do you know how your mother really died? Let me tell you—your mother didn’t commit suicide!” I froze, stopping my movements, my whole body trembling. “What do you mean?” “My mother didn’t commit suicide?” She shook her head. “You’re just as stupid as your mother. That day, after I cursed at her, she did try to jump into the river to kill herself. But at the last moment, she regretted it. She said she couldn’t leave you behind, that she had to live for you. How could that be allowed? So I helped her along.” Eve made a pushing motion with her hands. “I just pushed her like this.” I staggered, unable to stay on my feet. “You pushed my mother? You killed her?” She nodded proudly. “Yes, I killed your mother. So what can you do about it?” I rushed at her like a madwoman. “I’m going to kill you to avenge my mother!” I exploded with tremendous strength, knocking her to the ground, pummeling and biting her wildly! Then I became more and more frenzied, eventually punching and kicking her like a beast that had lost all reason. “You killed my mother! Go to hell! Die!” But Eve suddenly flashed me a sinister smile. “You’re finished.” Then a great force struck me, and I was kicked to the ground. “Charlie, our baby! My stomach hurts so much. Quick, take me to the hospital.” Her lower body was covered in blood. She was pregnant. Charlie frantically picked up Eve and ordered the bodyguards behind him, “Lock Jenny up. I’ll deal with her when I get back.” After Charlie left, the bodyguards locked me up and directly set a fire. “Miss Jenny deliberately set a fire trying to escape, but ended up burning herself to death.” So this was Eve’s real goal—to burn me to death. The fire gradually grew. I struggled but couldn’t untie the ropes. I was choked by the smoke and gradually lost strength. A burning cabinet suddenly fell toward me. I closed my eyes in despair.

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