Category: English

He asked me to donate my bone marrow to a core member of the family. I looked into his cold eyes and agreed without a second thought. It was my duty as the matriarch of the Moretti family. A year later, I was pregnant. He asked me again, because Isabella’s condition had returned. For the first time, I refused him. For my child. But he drugged my dinner. When I woke up in the family’s private clinic, my belly was empty, and my marrow had been taken. I turned over, dialed the number I swore I’d never call, and gave myself—and every secret I knew—to the federal government. He searched for me like a madman. “Catherine, where are you? We can have another child, I promise!” But behind the FBI’s firewall, no one heard his cries. … “Catherine, once you join the Eagle Project, you will be completely cut off from your past for at least ten years. Are you sure?” the FBI agent asked, his face grim. I smoothed the wrinkles on my clothes and said calmly, “I’m sure. I will dedicate the rest of my life to justice, with no regrets.” I did have one regret, but it didn’t matter anymore. The agent gave me a long, meaningful look and nodded. “This is a classified operation. We will erase all your records and create a new identity for you. Do you have any other requests?” The agent must have been wondering why the wife of a powerful family, who should have been living in luxury, would choose such a final path. No one ever expected I would turn myself over to the family’s greatest enemy. My face was blank, my gaze steady. “No requests. I will follow all arrangements.” In this city shrouded in shadows, justice needed me more than that man ever did. The agent stood up and shook my hand. “Catherine, thank you for your contribution to justice. Welcome to your new life.” As the top financial genius of our allied family, I married into the Moretti family in my prime, stepping back to manage their vast, dark empire from behind the scenes. Now, I had applied to become the blade that would destroy that empire, and the FBI had, against all odds, agreed. Only seven days left. In seven days, I would leave for a small, unknown town under a new name.

“Catherine, are you done? I’m waiting in the garage.” The text was from Leo. We hadn’t seen each other in a month. Ever since I woke up on that operating table in the private clinic and found my baby was gone, he had vanished, claiming he was “handling business on the West Coast.” His parents, the patriarch Carlo and his wife, had never liked me from the start. Our marriage was arranged by the previous Don to repay a favor. My family needed the Morettis’ protection, and the Morettis needed my family’s financial skills. My grandfather had seen something in Leo’s ruthless ambition, thinking he would be a capable ruler who wouldn’t hurt me emotionally—because he had no emotions to begin with. But my grandfather was wrong. They didn’t just dislike me; they treated me like a complete outsider. Leo hadn’t realized that I was no longer the compliant Catherine he knew. It was normal for him not to contact me for a month. Today was his mother’s birthday. I knew why he was here. To play the part of a loving couple in front of all the family members and allies. Even though I never fit in, I figured I could endure their fake compliments and judging stares one last time. In seven days, I’d be gone forever. I walked out into the underground parking garage of the Moretti Tower. Leo’s black, armored sedan was parked silently. He leaned against it, tall and imposing, his tailored suit radiating power and danger. He had a chiseled face and eyes that held no emotion. There was a time I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. I had to admit, that man had carved a deep mark into my heart. “I’m done.” His voice was calm, as if the child he personally destroyed had never existed. He didn’t even offer a single “I’m sorry.” I ignored him and reached for the passenger door. A delicate doll was lying on the seat, as if claiming its territory. How ironic. A cold sneer touched my lips. I slammed the door shut, walked around, and got into the back. I knew whose doll it was. Isabella’s. For her, he had personally snuffed out the life of our first child. I lost my baby, and my heart was hollowed out. And now, a doll was here to remind me of my failure? I stared out the window, my eyes instantly welling up as I saw a mother on the street holding her daughter’s hand. “How have you… been feeling?” I snapped back to the present and answered coldly, “Fine.” It had been exactly one month since I “lost the baby.” I hadn’t taken a single day off. Work was the only thing that could numb the pain, pulling me away from my grief, even if just for a moment. Leo glanced at me several times in the rearview mirror. “Don’t drink anything cold. Get some rest. The baby… we can have another one.” A wave of nausea washed over me. He was pretending to care about me? Our relationship had always been like a cold business contract, except for that one time. He had told me to give up the baby and donate my marrow to Isabella again. For the first time, I had screamed at him. For the first time, I had lost my mind. “I… was in the West Coast for a month dealing with some difficult business. That’s why I was so busy.” He was explaining himself. But I didn’t want to hear it anymore. Before, I would have played along with these meaningless conversations. But today, I just wanted to watch the world outside the window. After all, in a few days, I would be saying goodbye to it all forever.

I still remember that day. I felt dizzy while working on the accounts in my office. My personal assistant suggested I see a doctor. The ultrasound showed I was two months pregnant. The baby already had a tiny, flickering heartbeat, like a precious gem. That day, I was ecstatic. When I got back from the clinic, I had the chef prepare a lavish dinner, ready to share the wonderful news with him. He came back from a family meeting looking grave. Before I could even speak, he placed Isabella’s latest medical report in front of me. “Catherine, Isabella has relapsed. It’s critical. She needs a bone marrow transplant immediately. You’re coming with me to the clinic tomorrow.” He said it so matter-of-factly. In our year of marriage, he had never called me “darling.” On the rare occasions he used my name, it was always my full name. But he called her “Isabella.” Before, I had always done what he said. When I donated my marrow to Isabella a year ago, he lied and told me she was a “crucially important ally to the family.” I agreed. This time, I wanted to fight for my child. I refused him firmly. “I won’t do it again.” “I’m pregnant! I’m going to have this baby. He’s the heir to the Moretti family.” Leo fell silent. He looked down, and I could have sworn I saw his eyes turn red. After a long moment, he looked up, his voice like ice. “The family can have other heirs. But the Moretti family owes Isabella her life, and she only has one.” Tears streamed down my face. In his eyes, my child, the future heir to his family, was worth less than a symbol of honor? Her life was a life, but my child’s wasn’t? My maternal instincts made me stand my ground. I slammed the door and went to our bedroom, pulling the covers over my head. I thought he would back down for the sake of the child, that he would look for another donor. I never imagined he would put drugs in my water. I woke up thirsty in the middle of the night and drank from the glass on my bedside table. The world started spinning. When I came to, I was lying in a hospital bed at the clinic. An IV was stuck in my hand. Sharp pains shot through my abdomen and lower back. Oh, God, no! I instinctively reached for my belly, ignoring the searing pain in my back. A terrible feeling seized me. My baby! Mommy couldn’t protect you! He walked in, dressed in black, looking like an envoy from hell. My marrow had been extracted. The baby was gone. In that moment, a desperate wail tore from my throat, and my heart shattered into a million pieces.

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For thirty years, I lived as Felix’s widow. Felix Haywood was a renowned surgeon at Military General Hospital, a mentor to many students before his death. Everyone pitied me, saying I had lost a child to miscarriage, ruined my health, and lost my lover. I believed in these words… Until I sorted through his belongings and found a forged infant death certificate in his safe. His diary was filled with entries about how the Brooks family had once saved his entire family, how Irene Brooks could never have children because of him, and how he owed her he could only repay by stealing my son. I should have been a mother enjoying a happy family life, but I was trapped in my husband’s lie for thirty years! My heart felt crushed, and I fainted. When I opened my eyes, the young, grief-stricken face of Felix appeared before me. “Grace, don’t be sad. Our baby… is gone.” I, Grace Archer, was sent back in time. Back to the day he stole my son. I looked at Felix. He held my hand, his eyes red and teary. “Grace, the doctors did everything they could.” I remained silent. Then I heard a baby’s cries and a woman’s laughter coming from the next room. That woman was Irene Brooks. That baby was my son. My mother-in-law, Clara Reed, came in with a bowl of soup. “Grace, drink this. Your health is what matters most now.” She set the bowl on the bedside table. “We owe you so much.” I gave a bitter smile and said nothing. Tears slid down from the corners of my eyes. Felix reached over, wiping them away with his thumb. “Don’t cry. We’re still young. We’ll have another child later.” I closed my eyes. In my past life, I believed him. So I took mountains of medicine and endured countless treatments, all to conceive another child for him. Until his death, I never succeeded. Everyone said I was pitiful because I lost both my child and my husband. But no one knew my child had been alive all along. Right next door, less than ten meters away from me, he was there. Held by another woman, calling Irene Mom. The ward door was pushed open. Irene walked in with a swaddled baby in her arms, followed by her parents. “Felix, Clara.” Her voice was soft. She looked at me, and her eyes were filled with sympathy. “Grace, are you all right? I heard…” The baby in her arms moved, letting out a slight sound. My gaze fell on the baby. He was my son. Clara immediately walked over and took the baby. “Little one, already awake?” Holding him, she wore a smile I had never seen before. Felix also stood up and approached Irene. “Why did you come? You also need to rest.” “I just want to see Grace,” Irene said while touching her abdomen, “I can never have another child. Seeing Grace like this… it breaks my heart.” Tears fell as she spoke. Irene’s father, a high-ranking officer, patted Felix’s shoulder. “Felix, this child is now your responsibility.” “I will take good care of him,” Felix nodded. I watched them. They were all acting. And I was the fool kept in the dark.

On the day I was discharged from the hospital, Felix took me home. The house was very quiet. The prepared nursery was completely empty—no cradle, no crib, not even wall decals. Felix hugged me from behind. “I was afraid they’d make you sad, so I put everything away.” My whole body stiffened. “Grace, forget this. Let’s start over, okay?” I didn’t answer him. Walking into that empty room, I stood there for a long time. Three days later, Clara brought the baby home from Irene’s house. “Felix, Irene can’t handle it alone, and the baby is often sick. Let’s raise him here.” Felix didn’t object. The baby was placed in the guest room, far from our bedroom. Irene came over too, claiming she would help care for him. From then on, this house belonged to two women. One was me. The other was Irene. The baby was named Alistair Haywood, chosen by Irene. She said she hoped he would remember his late father and grow up safely. How absurd. They hoped my son would remember a father who never existed. Alistair often cried at night. The nanny couldn’t soothe him. Neither could Clara. His cries reached my room. Lying in bed, I pulled the quilt over my head. Waves of heartache washed over me. Felix got up. “I’ll go check on him.” He was gone for a long time. When he returned, he carried the scent of milk. “Asleep?” I asked. “Yes. Irene is soothing him.” I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling. “Felix, I want to see him.” “Why would you want to see him? Don’t you know better?” Clara’s voice suddenly came from the door. She hadn’t knocked. “Mom?” Felix frowned. “I’m telling the truth! She just lost one, and now she wants to see Alistair? What’s she up to?” Clara walked in and stood by my bed. “Grace, let me be clear. Alistair is Irene’s child. He’s not yours, so don’t think you have any claim over him!” I looked at her. “I just want to see him.” “No way!” Her voice turned shrill. “You’ll bring misfortune to him! We can’t afford another tragedy!” I said nothing more. That night, I didn’t sleep at all. The next day, while they were all out, I slipped into the guest room. Alistair was sleeping in the cradle. I walked over and bent down. This was the first time I was so close to my son. He was tiny, and his face was still crumpled. I touched his cheek softly. He didn’t wake up, just smacked his lips slightly. On the back of his neck, I saw a small red birthmark. Exactly like mine. Tears welled up instantly. I gently picked him up. He moved in my arms, finding a comfortable position to continue sleeping. Holding him, I sat on the carpet, motionless. I didn’t know how much time passed before the door opened. Irene entered and saw the baby in my arms. Her expression changed. “Grace! What are you doing!” She rushed over and snatched the baby from me. “Don’t touch him!” The baby was startled awake and burst into tears. “You made him cry!” Irene held him close, anxious and angry. Felix and Clara hurried in upon hearing the noise. Seeing the scene, Clara shoved me hard. “I knew you were up to no good! What did you want to do to my grandson?” She blurted out. After saying that, she froze. Felix’s face darkened. “Mom!” “I… I misspoke!” She said hurriedly, “I meant… Alistair is the child of Felix’s comrade, so he’s like my grandson!” I stood up from the floor and then looked at Felix. “I wanted to hold him. Is that wrong?” “Grace, you’re not well,” Felix said, “Alistair is still young and gets sick easily.” “Yes, Grace.” Irene took a step back, holding the baby closer. “Alistair has a weak immune system. The doctor said we must be very careful.” I looked at the three of them. They were like three walls, separating me from my son. “I am the rightful woman of this house,” I said. Irene’s face turned pale. Clara pointed a finger at me. “You? You are just a woman who can’t keep a child!” “Mom!” Felix’s voice turned sharp. He walked over and gripped my wrist. “Grace, go rest in our room.” His grip was strong. I couldn’t break free. Dragged back to the bedroom, I saw him close the door. Then I heard him say to his mother and Irene, “Don’t let her go into that room again.”

From that day on, I was never allowed to be near Alistair again. Irene and Clara kept a close watch on me. When there were guests at home, Irene would carry Alistair out, introducing him to everyone. “This is my son, Alistair Haywood.” Everyone praised her for her kindness and greatness. Felix stood beside her, looking at her with an emotion I couldn’t understand. It was guilt, and it was also compensation. I began to suffer from insomnia, lying awake night after night. My body wasted away rapidly. Felix took me to see a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist asked me a few questions, then told Felix, “It’s postpartum depression, with mild delusions. She believes the baby is hers?” “Yes,” Felix nodded. “Classic symptoms. She needs medication and psychological counseling.” I looked at Felix. There was no trace of emotion on his face. He took the prescribed medication home and supervised me to take the pills every day. I hid the pills under my tongue, and then spat them out after he left. Because I knew I didn’t have delusions. I was simply a mother wanting to reclaim her baby. Therefore, I began looking for an opportunity to get Alistair’s hair for a paternity test. That was the only evidence. An opportunity came a month later. At Alistair’s hundred-day celebration, the house was full of guests. Everyone surrounded Irene, Alistair, and Felix. They looked like a happy family. I moved silently through the crowd. When Irene went to change clothes, I picked up Alistair. He had grown a bit, and his features looked like mine. In my arms, he was calm, not crying or fussing. I carried him to a corner and carefully plucked a hair from his head. Then I wrapped the hair in a tissue and put it in my pocket. After doing it, I felt all my strength drained away. As I put Alistair back in the cradle and turned to leave, I met Felix’s eyes. He had stood behind me without my noticing. His gaze was icy. “What were you doing?” “I…” Without waiting for my explanation, he reached into my pocket. He took out the tissue and then unfolded it. When he saw the hair, his face darkened instantly. With no words, he dragged me upstairs to the study. After shoving me inside, he locked the door. “Grace, what do you want to do?” “I want to do a paternity test,” I said, staring at him, “He is my son.” “You’re insane!” He growled, “Have you forgotten what the doctor said? You have delusions!” “I am not insane!” I shouted back, “Felix, look me in my eyes! Do you dare say he is not my son?” He avoided my gaze. “Stop being unreasonable.” “Being unreasonable?” I laughed, and tears streamed down my face. “You stole my son, and now you say I’m insane! Felix, how could you do this to me?” He fell silent. After a long silence, he spoke with a hoarse voice. “Grace, the Brooks family did me a great favor.” “What favor?” “Saving my life,” he said, “Years ago, if it weren’t for Mr. Brooks, my whole family would have been ruined. Irene can’t have children because of me. I owe her.” “So you repaid her with my son?” He didn’t say a word—his silence said it all. Looking at him, I felt a deep chill. “I will apply for a paternity test tomorrow.” “You dare!” He stepped forward and snatched the tissue from my hand. Right before my eyes, he tore the hair and the tissue into pieces. The pieces fell through his fingers. Like my shattered heart. “Grace,” he stared at me, enunciating each word, “Behave yourself. My patience is limited.” I looked at him, the man I had loved for ten years. For him, I had given up my studies and become a dutiful wife. In that moment, I finally understood. He didn’t love me. He only needed an obedient wife. A tool for his mission of repayment. At that moment, the last bit of hope I had for him vanished.

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After ten years of marriage, I discovered an unfamiliar paternity test on my husband Bruce Dryden’s computer. The report says that the son I’ve raised for a decade—Gerald Dryden—isn’t biologically mine. But I raised this child myself. If that’s the case, where is my biological child? “Honey, what are you still doing in the study so late?” Hearing his voice, I quickly close the document, guilt washes over me. He notices anyway. His face darkens as he looks at me. “So, you don’t trust me that much!” I open the paternity test report and confront him, demanding an explanation. But he quickly shuts down the computer, accusing me of invading his privacy. Watching his retreating back, I realize how distant we’ve become after ten years of marriage. Calmly, I open the drawer and tear up the tenth-anniversary gift I had prepared. … I pull open the bottom drawer, revealing a signed share transfer agreement. I had planned to transfer 15% of the company’s shares to him as a gift for our tenth anniversary tomorrow. But now, it seems pointless. I take the agreement out and tear it to pieces. The shreds fall into the trash bin, mixing with the wrapping paper of the prepared anniversary gifts. Looking at those gifts, I no longer feel the joy of preparing them; instead, I feel a wave of nausea. When I return to the bedroom, Bruce is already in bed, as if nothing happened. I stand at the door for a long time, watching his sleeping back, before turning to the guest room. I don’t sleep a wink all night. The next morning, Bruce wakes me up. He stands at the door of the guest room, his face full of anger. “Thera, what do you mean by sleeping in the guest room?” I sit up and look at him. This face I’ve known for ten years now feels so unfamiliar. “I need some space.” He tries to say something, but in the end, he just shakes his head. “Whatever.” After Bruce leaves for work, I make breakfast as usual. Gerald sits at the table, drinking milk. “Mom, you look pale.” I touch his hair, soft and curly like Bruce’s. Over the years, many people have said they look alike. “I didn’t sleep well last night. Hurry up and eat, or you’ll be late.” On the way to school, I keep drifting off. At a red light, I turn around, pretending to adjust his collar, and I carefully pull a loose strand of hair caught on his collar. “There’s gray hair. Let me take it out for you.” I say, tucking the hair into a small notebook I carry with me. After watching Gerald walk into school, I head to the paternity testing center. “How soon can I get the results with an expedited service?” “Normally it takes five working days, but with an expedited service, you can get the results before 4:00 PM today. The cost is triple.” “Expedited, please.” My hand trembles a bit when I submit the sample. After taking my oral swab, I sit in the waiting area, watching the clock tick by. During this time, I contact a private detective. “I want to look into my husband, Bruce Dryden, especially his whereabouts in the past few months.” At 3:40 PM, my phone rings; the results are out. I open the electronic report and go straight to the end. “DNA analysis shows that the probability of a parent-child relationship between Thera Dryden and Gerald Dryden is 0.0001%.” “Genetic marker analysis does not support Thera Dryden being Gerald Dryden’s biological mother.” I thought I was prepared. I wasn’t. The words blur, and I slide down the wall, my legs giving out beneath me. Not my child. I’ve raised a child for nearly ten years who isn’t biologically mine. Where is my real child? I rush to the maternity hospital where I gave birth nine years ago. I meet the obstetrician from back then, who is now the department head. I get straight to the point. “Dr. Felix, I’d like to review my delivery records and hospital files from back then.” Her smile falters. “It’s been so long; the files might be archived.” After some effort, the records room staff finally bring over a folder. I flip through it and find the records are extremely brief, listing only admission and discharge dates, delivery method, and the newborn’s weight. The file is strangely thin—no nursing logs, no pediatric assessments, nothing beyond the bare minimum. “Is this all there is?” She apologizes. “That’s all in the system. Paper records for obstetric cases are usually kept for ten years, and yours is almost up.” “What about the newborn’s footprints? The blood sample records?” She shakes her head. “Those should be in the neonatal records, but we couldn’t find them.” Something isn’t right. An overly simplified medical record, missing neonatal records, and a son who isn’t biologically mine but looks like my husband. My phone rings. It’s Bruce. “Where did you go? I picked up Gerald.” I realize it’s past school dismissal time, but I had told the teacher beforehand. “I’m out running errands and will be home soon.” I hang up immediately. After dinner, I excuse myself with a headache and head to the bedroom early. Bruce stays in the living room, helping Gerald with his homework. Their voices drift in faintly. “Dad, is Mom upset?” “Mom’s just tired. Finish your homework and go to bed early.” Once they’ve both fallen asleep, I begin to quietly search the entire house. The master bedroom, the living room, and Gerald’s room, I search everywhere. But I find nothing. Finally, I look at the computer in the study, thinking the truth must be there.

Footsteps sound outside the door, and I close the document. When Bruce pushes the door open, I’m tidying up the desk. He glances at the computer screen, which is now back to the desktop, showing a photo of us by the sea three years ago. “Not asleep yet?” “Just going through some old files.” I reply, turning off the monitor as I speak. He stands there for a moment, as if he wants to say something, but in the end, he just nods. “Get some rest.” I sit in the dark, listening to his footsteps fade away. That night, I don’t turn the computer back on and lie in bed with my mind in a mess. The next morning, I tell Bruce to take Gerald to school. He looks at me, then picks up the car keys. “Alright.” As soon as they leave, I head straight to the study. I turn on the computer and type in the password, our wedding anniversary. It’s wrong. I try his birthday, wrong again. Then our son’s birthday, still dead end. Then the date we first met… His mother’s birthday… And the day the company was founded. None of them work. The system prompts me to try again in fifteen minutes. I sit in the chair, staring at the login screen. This computer, which we bought together, is now locked to me. When Bruce gets home from work in the evening, he takes off his coat. “I’m flying to Portle tomorrow. Don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” I come out of the kitchen with a dish. “So urgent? Who’s going with you?” He puts his briefcase on the table and turns to look at me. “It’s a last-minute arrangement, Thera. Could you stop it?” I look at him in silence, wondering why a casual question would cause such a reaction. “You question everything, suspect everyone. I’m just going to work.” I turn to serve the rice, my hand trembling a bit. “Just asking.” He doesn’t say anything more and goes straight into the bedroom. Dinner is done in silence. Gerald seems to sense something and, unusually, doesn’t pick at his food. After Bruce takes a shower, he comes out and picks up the coat on the sofa to hang it on the rack. A receipt falls out of his pocket and lands at my feet. After he leaves, I pick it up and take a look. It’s a perfume invoice, expensive, purchased yesterday afternoon. I don’t recognize the perfume, but I know it’s not for me. In ten years of marriage, Bruce has never given me a gift. I used to make excuses for him, thinking he’s not romantic, too busy with work. Now it seems he’s not incapable of romance. He just never shows me any when we are together. I jot down the information on the invoice. The next morning, as soon as Bruce heads to the airport, I call the boutique. “I’d like to check this invoice, yes, from yesterday afternoon.” “Let me check. Found it. The purchaser is Ms. Judith Dickey.” Judith Dickey. The name rings a bell. Bruce’s secretary, hired half a year ago, is a divorced woman in her thirties. On the way to the airport, I don’t know what I want to confirm. Maybe the perfume is for a client, and maybe I’m reading too much into it. I wait outside the international departure hall for half an hour before I see Bruce and her. Judith, in a beige trench coat and dragging a small suitcase, walks over with Bruce. Bruce’s face wears a relaxed smile I haven’t seen in a long time. Then, in front of the security checkpoint, Judith stops and naturally reaches up to straighten Bruce’s collar. Bruce doesn’t flinch. He leans down and whispers something in her ear. Judith smiles, then rises on her toes and kisses him on the lips. Bruce’s hand rests on her waist for a moment before they part, as if it’s second nature to them. The last shred of self-deception I held onto vanishes completely. So those late nights at work, those impatient looks he gave me, they all had a reason. As I watch their intimate figures, a suspicion gradually forms in my mind. Could that child who isn’t mine have anything to do with this woman? On the way back, I call the private detective I hired a few days ago. “Find out more about Judith Dickey. I want to know everything about her, especially if she has any children.”

The detective works quickly, and by the afternoon of the next day, I receive the investigation report. Judith Dickey, thirty-two years old, divorced five years ago, has a ten-year-old son named Carter Dickey, who attends a primary school in the west of the city. That date suddenly jumps out at me. Judith’s son is only a week younger than Gerald. For the first time in ten years, rage surged through me. I sit on the sofa, holding the report sent by the detective. Then, an idea pops into my head, and I rush into the study. My fingers hover over the keyboard before slowly typing in Judith’s birthday. The desktop opens, revealing only a folder named “Work Backup.” I click on it, and it’s filled with subfolders, organized by year, starting eleven years ago. The earliest folder contains scanned old photos. Bruce and Judith in school uniforms, standing under a locust tree. Nineteen-year-old Bruce smiles, his hand on Judith’s shoulder. Judith, with a ponytail, looks up at him. The next one is from college, in the library. The one after that is their graduation photo, both in academic gowns, holding hands. That year, Bruce told me the company was in trouble, and we canceled our anniversary trip. I close the folder, feeling a bit nauseous. Ten years. Every single one of them built on lies. Looking at the wallpaper of Bruce and me on our wedding day, I feel a wave of revulsion. At three in the afternoon, I drive to the west of the city. The primary school is even older than the detective described. The school bell rings, and children pour out of the gate. I sit in the car, gripping the steering wheel. Carter walks out alone, with no one to pick him up. He looks around, then slowly moves forward along the sidewalk. I hold my breath. That child, Carter. No, that’s my child. The way he walks is a bit like mine, with a slight inward tilt. When he raises his hand to adjust his hair, I see a birthmark on his wrist, in the same spot as mine. I see dust on his eyelashes, his lips a bit dry, the edge of his shoe already coming unglued. His eyes look empty, not like those of a ten-year-old. I cover my mouth to keep from making a sound. He walks away and disappears around the corner. I collapse over the steering wheel and cry uncontrollably. For that child walking home alone, for the ten years of misplaced life, and for myself, living like a fool in a play orchestrated by the traitors. Then I dry my tears and start the car. At the law firm, I place the USB drive in front of Lawyer Henley. It contains backups of all the photos, the paternity test report, scanned hospital records, the perfume invoice, and information on Judith and Carter. “I want a divorce. I want him to leave with nothing. I want custody of my blood and for him to pay the price he deserves.” As I leave the law firm, I remember what Bruce said when he proposed ten years ago. “Thera, I’ll give you a lifetime of stability.” So the lifetime he meant was only ten years. No, maybe even less. I take out my phone and call the company’s second-largest shareholder, also my father’s old colleague. “Mr. Watt, I’d like to talk to you about next week’s board meeting.” Bruce probably forgot that the company bears the Adam name.

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Ten years ago, I caught my wife Emily Taylor making out with my adopted brother Jason Lewis. I completely lost control, slapped them both, and trashed the entire room. Faced with my breakdown, my wife didn’t explain anything. She just calmly watched me go crazy. That very night, she had me restrained and sent to prison. Before I was taken away, she prepared all my favorite dishes and spoke gently. “Thomas, Jason was frightened by you. I have to lock you up and you need to calm down. I’ll coax him first, and once he’s settled, I’ll come get you.” But I actually stayed in prison for ten years. Ten years later, when I was released, I went to a small town. I kept a low profile and worked as a server in a small restaurant. Until I saw my ex-wife Emily again. She was dressed head to toe in luxury brands, with exquisite makeup. When she saw me, she froze, then grabbed my hand with reddened eyes. “Thomas, you’re out! Why didn’t you tell me?” “It’s been so many years… How are you?” I gave a bitter smile and touched my head through my hat. I had no hair left. Ten years of torment had long given me cancer. Actually, I only had one month left to live. *** I didn’t answer her. I just tugged my padded jacket sleeve down, trying to hide the needle marks lining my arm. Emily was about to speak again when the boss shouted from over there. “Thomas, what are you doing? Go clear that table!” I responded briefly and hurried away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Emily try to call out to me, but after opening her mouth, she never made a sound. I served her dishes. She only ordered a braised fish, a bowl of spicy lamb soup, and a pot of wine. I frowned. She was allergic to fish and hated the smell of lamb, yet these were exactly my two favorite dishes. Unfortunately, because of stomach cancer, I hadn’t eaten them for many years. With a blank expression, I set the dishes in front of her. “Ma’am, all your dishes are here. Please enjoy.” After saying that, I turned to leave, but Emily grabbed my sleeve. “Thomas, all of these are for you. Sit down and have a drink with me, okay?” I froze where I stood, remembering how, before sending me to prison, she had prepared my favorite dishes just like this, followed immediately by ten years of hell. When she saw me stay silent, she continued, “Please, let’s talk.” I sighed and finally sat down across from Emily. She poured me a glass of wine. “Thomas, when you were released, I was going to pick you up. But when I got there, I couldn’t find you.” “I asked around in the prison about you, but they all said that you were dead.” I didn’t touch the wine or the food. “Not dead. Sorry to disappoint you, Ms. Emily.” Unexpectedly, Emily suddenly became emotional and leaned in to grab my hand. “Thomas, I admit I wronged you back then. Come back with me, okay? I’ll make it up to you!” “In three days it’s your dad’s sixtieth birthday. Come back with me. I’ll explain everything for you.” Back then, just to make my adopted brother Jason happy, and also out of fear that I would expose the scandal, Emily fabricated evidence that I had taken bribes at the company, condemning me to ten unjust years in prison. And my parents, without bothering to find out the truth, cut off all ties with me on the spot and cursed me as a parasite of society. Hearing Emily’s words, the pain and despair of those years surged back once again. I forced myself to suppress the overwhelming agony, but my body still trembled uncontrollably. “Explain? How are you gonna do that?” “Tell them all those shameless things between you and Jason?” Because I was emotionally agitated, my voice rose a little. In an instant, the surrounding curious and gossiping gazes all turned toward us. I abruptly stood up and walked away.

I thought I would never see Emily again. After all, how much genuine remorse could there be from someone who personally sent me to hell? But early the next morning, just as I arrived at work, I saw her already waiting at the entrance. When she saw me, she hurried over and said, “Thomas, you used to be a top engineer. Now you’re stuck in a restaurant like this. Can you really accept this?” I sneered and said, “Wasn’t my life already destroyed by you? And now you say this? Don’t you find it disgusting?” After hearing my words, Emily choked for a moment, panic flashing across her face. Just as she was about to explain, I went inside. Emily didn’t leave. She ordered a plate of food and a pot of tea and stayed in the restaurant all day. I ignored her and stayed busy as usual. Near the end of my shift, my stomach suddenly twisted in pain, and I felt like throwing up. I forced myself to endure the pain, staggering back a step, and accidentally knocked over a glass of red wine on a customer’s table. The wine spilled all over him. The man froze for a moment. Before I could even apologize, he slapped me hard. “Damn it, are you blind? This outfit is a luxury brand. Can you afford to pay for it?” The more he spoke, the more agitated he became. Ignoring my apologies, he kicked me hard in the stomach, sending me crashing to the ground. Then he picked up the red wine from the table and poured it over my head. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. With a retch, I vomited blood. The bright red liquid mixed with the red wine, soaking me in a bloody mess. Still not satisfied, the man lifted his foot to kick me again, but someone shoved him aside. Emily, her eyes blazing red, stood firmly in front of me and roared. “Don’t you touch him again!” The man was about to curse, but when he saw the look in Emily’s bloodshot eyes, a trace of fear flashed across his face. After muttering a couple of more curses, he quickly fled the restaurant. Emily carefully helped me up, her face full of concern. “Thomas, all this blood…” I looked at the red stains covering my clothes and said in a flustered voice, “It’s just some red wine.” After saying that, I pushed Emily away and fled. The next day, I resigned from my job. I had only taken the job to earn money for chemotherapy and medicine. Now that I was going to die anyway, there was no need to keep working. What’s more, my greatest wish now was to stay as far away from Emily and the others as possible. At the very least, I wanted to die in peace. There were no formal procedures for resigning. I just needed to tell the boss, settle my wages, and I could leave. As soon as I walked out of the restaurant, I remembered that my last checkup report was still at the hospital. I decided to go get it and buy some painkillers. But just after I picked up the report at the hospital, I saw a familiar figure. It was my adopted brother, Jason. And standing beside him were Emily and my biological parents. Jason was the first to see me. He froze in place, and after a long moment, spoke in disbelief. “Thomas? You’re not dead?” I glanced at the medicine he was carrying. It was from the obstetrics building, and on the bag was written the pregnant woman’s name. It was Emily. Only then did I notice that, though not obvious, Emily’s lower abdomen was indeed slightly rounded. Even after ten years, seeing this with my own eyes still felt like a piece of my heart being torn out alive. I gave a self-mocking smile. “Still alive. Disappointed?”

At those words, I saw a flash of malice on Jason’s face, but he still put on a wronged expression as he spoke. “Thomas, I know you hate that I married Emily.” “But you already divorced her, and ten years ago you did something wrong and went to prison. You can’t expect her to wait for you forever, right?” Emily also spoke up. “Mom and Dad are both here. Just apologize. Tomorrow is Dad’s birthday. They’ll forgive you.” I sneered. It was clearly their fault. Why should I be the one apologizing? I said bluntly, “You all know very well what the truth was ten years ago. Why should I apologize?” At that moment, my parents finally noticed me. They looked much older. Not yet sixty, yet their hair was almost completely white, their backs already hunched. When they saw me, they froze as well. My mom reacted first, frowning as she spoke. “Why have you gotten so thin? Did you smoke or something?” “You did something wrong ten years ago. After getting out of prison you didn’t come look for us? Clearly you’re guilty!” I was stunned, and it took me a long moment to understand what she meant. How ridiculous. Ten years without seeing me, they didn’t ask how I’d been at all. Her first reaction was suspicion that I had caught bad habits. That was the image I had in their eyes! I laughed until tears came out. Seeing me laugh, my dad frowned too. “Your mom’s right. You’re abnormally thin.” As he spoke, without any explanation, he grabbed me and dragged me toward the hospital’s testing area. “Come with me for a urine test!” His voice was loud, instantly drawing a crowd. In the scuffle, my dad shoved me to the ground. My head hit the corner of a nearby table, blood streaming down my forehead. Because I was emotionally agitated, my stomach started hurting again. Cold sweat quickly soaked through my clothes. At that moment, Emily spoke again. Her tone was gentle, laced with worry. “Thomas, I didn’t notice yesterday. You’re really too thin now. I also think you should do the test.” “At worst, we’ll take you to rehab. It’s not too late.” Jason also put on a show of concern. “Thomas, I know you’re miserable, but you can’t keep making more mistakes!” They were still so condescending. Why? I hadn’t done anything wrong. Why did they always think I did something wrong? Why did I have to pay for their imagination? My dad reached out to grab me again. I pushed his hand away and struggled to get up from the ground. “No need. I’ll go myself.” With that, I limped into the urine testing room. Of course the results were normal. A trace of awkwardness flashed across my parents’ faces, but they didn’t apologize. They only glanced at me and spoke stiffly. “Forget it. Come home. Tomorrow is your dad’s sixtieth birthday. Remember to come.” I took a step back, widening the distance between us. “You were right back then. I’m not your son. We already cut ties long ago.” “I won’t be attending the sixtieth birthday. Happy birthday in advance, sir.” After saying that, I bowed to them. Ignoring their curses and attempts to stop me, I turned and left the hospital.

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Eight months’ pregnant, my husband—so-called CEO of the Sterling Corporation’s Global Security Division—finally found time to accompany me to my prenatal checkup. But the moment we stepped into the hospital, his phone buzzed urgently. The caller ID flashed across the screen. Lucas, usually so composed, panicked instantly. “Honey, it’s a Code Red. Another corporate saboteur has breached the perimeter. I… I’m sorry…” He was frantic, carrying that authoritative tone that left no room for argument. A hurried apology, and he was gone. Watching his car speed away, I crushed the prenatal form in my hand until my nails dug through the paper. I hailed a cab, my pregnant belly weighing me down, and spoke quickly: “Driver, follow that car.” Ha. A Code Red saboteur? What a ridiculous lie. My father hadn’t received any alerts. My father was the real CEO and the person in charge. My husband Lucas only helped my father manage a few branch companies because he married me. What kind of “urgent threat” could possibly require him? What could be so important? Something even more important than accompanying me to my prenatal checkup? I had to see exactly which “executive” was so desperate to summon him. The moment I said “catch him cheating,” the driver hit the gas and caught up to Lucas’s vehicle. I didn’t know who Lucas was meeting, but my gut told me something was terribly wrong. To my surprise, after several turns, the car stopped at the gates of the Executive Estate. I exhaled in relief. At least it wasn’t a hotel. This area housed luxury residences reserved for top Sterling Corporation executives. Lucas had been assigned a villa here too. Before my first pregnancy, I’d lived here briefly. The neighbors were all pleasant. But now, seeing luxury cars lined up at my front door… I was confused. Was today some important occasion? I approached to investigate, but the security guard stopped me: “Executive Estate. No unauthorized entry.” I froze, then smiled politely. “I just entered a moment ago. I’m Mrs. Lucas—the Head of Security’s wife.” Unexpectedly, the guard looked at me with contempt. “Mr. Lucas’s wife is Miss Selina. And you are? Do some research before you try to impersonate someone.” In an instant, my body went rigid. Selina. That woman Lucas had hired as my living blood bank… I came to my senses and pushed past the guard, my pregnant belly leading the way as I rushed to the villa entrance. Inside the grand hall, I saw a sea of elegant guests—power players and elites, laughing and chatting. My usually reclusive mother-in-law, Martha, was uncharacteristically mingling with the crowd. And my husband, Lucas, was holding a baby in his arms, feeding it a bottle, smiling happily at the delicate woman beside him. That woman was Selina… My heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand. I couldn’t breathe. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. During my first pregnancy, Lucas had worried about my rare blood type causing complications during delivery. He’d searched the entire country to find me a living blood donor. That donor had been a struggling student named Selina. After I gave birth, he said he’d send her away. Out of sympathy, I let Selina stay on as a clerk at Sterling Security. I even had Lucas bring her supplements regularly. But I never imagined Lucas would cheat with her—and that he’d move her into this house. This villa was the home he’d carefully prepared for me after his promotion to Head of Security. But it was far from the hospital, so after I got pregnant again, Lucas insisted we move closer to the city hospital. I never thought it would become their “marital home.” And they’d had a child… “Congratulations, Mr. Lucas! Your wife is so virtuous, and now you have a son. You’re a true winner in life!” “Oh, Selina is so blessed to have found a husband who cherishes her like this. I’m so envious!” One of staff’s wife patted Martha’s hand, fawning over her. Martha’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she looked at Selina, bragging: “My Lucas is the lucky one to have married such a wonderful wife.” Lucas, unbothered by the crowd, leaned close to Selina and whispered something in her ear. Selina blushed and smiled shyly, then raised her glass to the guests: “I was afraid that going public at the company would hurt Lucas’s reputation, so we kept it private. Please don’t mind.” “Today is our son’s 100-day-birthday celebration. Everyone, please drink—consider this our belated wedding toast.” Seeing Selina handle the situation so gracefully, the guests smiled and offered their congratulations. “We wouldn’t dare hold it against the Head of Security’s wife! We just forgot to say congratulations on your marriage!” “I say, why not take this opportunity and have them act as bride and groom again? Let’s see them drink from the unity cup!” Lucas’s security team subordinates chimed in, and the banquet atmosphere reached a fever pitch. Selina bashfully tried to decline, but Lucas pulled her close by the waist and liftedked onto mine standing at the door. He shoved the woman in his arms away violently. Selina shrieked as red wine splashed all over her. “Evelyn…” I wiped the tears from my eyes, my pregnant belly leading the way as I stormed forward and slapped him across the face. “SLAP!” The crisp sound echoed through the hall, plunging the entire room into dead silence. “Lucas!” Selina’s eyes rolled back as she lunged toward him, screaming at me hysterically: “Evelyn! How dare you—” “SLAP!” Another slap. Selina’s face swelled instantly, and she stumbled backward into Lucas’s arms, sobbing pitifully. I shook out my stinging palm. “Ser—” Lucas immediately reacted, shouting at me. “LUCAS!” But my voice was louder. I turned my head, glaring at him with ice-cold fury. “Is THIS your ‘Code Red saboteur’?!”

Lucas was speechless. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. The crowd of executives and their families stood frozen, utterly clueless. In the suffocating silence, a baby’s cry suddenly pierced the air, startling everyone. Martha rushed to take the baby and soothe it. Then she immediately turned on me, screaming: “Evelyn! You crazy bitch! You’re already divorced—how dare you come here and harass my son! Get out before you offend someone important and end up in prison!” The Deputy Director’s wife immediately joined in with a harsh rebuke: “Even if you’re Mr. Lucas’s ex-wife, you can’t just assault people!!” Learning my identity, the hall erupted. The crowd began clamoring to have me locked up and taught a lesson. I frowned and grabbed Lucas by the collar, about to demand why I—his lawful wife—had suddenly become his “ex-wife.” But Selina beat me to it, shrinking into Lucas’s arms with tears in her eyes as she looked at me: “Sister Evelyn… Lucas already divorced you. Why are you still clinging to us…?” Her tears flowed freely. “It’s all my fault. I’ll give Lucas back to you, okay…?” Lucas’s expression darkened. Suppressing his rage, he snarled at me: “Evelyn! I’ve told you—I won’t reconcile with you! Stop harassing us!” “Get out while I still have patience! I don’t have time to deal with you!” With a gesture from Lucas, several boygaurds rushed forward to forcibly remove me. As I struggled, I stumbled and crashed into Martha. But the moment I caught sight of the baby’s face in her arms… I was struck by lightning. Because the child Martha was holding—the child supposedly belonging to Selina—was my firstborn son, Theodore, whom I’d labored seven hours to deliver! But my child had died three months ago. Lucas himself had cremated him— Lucas… My breath caught. A searing pain flooded my eyes. That bastard! He’d faked our child’s death just to give him to Selina to raise! “Give me back my child! He’s my Theodore!” My teeth ground together audibly. I snatched the baby from her arms, shoved Martha aside, and gently soothed the crying infant, tears streaming down my face. Selina suddenly panicked. Crying, she rushed forward to snatch the baby back. Her voice trembled: “Evelyn, he’s not your child!” “I know Theodore died, and you were traumatized—you went mad. Even after the divorce, you insisted on clinging to Lucas to have another baby…” “I pitied you for losing your son, so I tolerated everything. But you can’t steal my child!” “Please, let our family go… I’ll divorce Lucas if you want, just give me back my baby!” Hearing this, Lucas’s face twisted in pain. He gripped Selina’s shoulders tightly and shouted: “Selina, I won’t allow it!” “Divorce is out of the question. No one is tearing apart our family of three.” “What about ME?!” I roared, cutting him off. Watching the two of them perform their tragic love scene, I pointed at my swollen pregnant belly and spoke to him word by word: “Lucas, I’m still carrying YOUR child. You cheated on me in front of my face and turned me into your ‘ex-wife.’ Don’t you feel disgusted?!” His throat bobbed. He looked away, unable to meet my eyes. Selina’s tears fell even harder, as if she’d suffered the greatest injustice in the world. She turned to the guests, sobbing: “I’m sorry, everyone. Evelyn is Lucas’s ex-wife. After a difficult birth and losing her child, she went insane.” “Later, she kept begging Lucas for another baby. When he refused, she… she went to thugs and criminals to… to get pregnant…” “Lucas, out of old affection, checked on her from time to time. But now she’s trying to force him to claim another man’s bastard child, and she’s… she’s trying to make us divorce…” This speech ignited the fury of everyone present. The socialites immediately jeered in disgust: “A crazy whore—she’s got both titles covered! Someone get this lunatic out of here!” Cradling the baby in my arms, I let out a cold laugh. I was too angry to even be furious anymore. I looked at Selina, my gaze frozen into ice: “Who’s the whore setting up her chastity arch, Selina? Don’t you know?” “Need I remind you how much you sold each milliliter of your blood for?” “You took thirty million from me, then knelt at my feet, begging for a stable job. Wasn’t that you?” Selina’s face grew paler and paler with each word. But I wasn’t finished. “What, Lucas’s mistress allowance wasn’t enough? So now you’re smashing my rice bowl?” “You, a mistress, insisting on pretending to be the lady of the house—doesn’t your face hurt from the swelling?” Before I could finish, someone violently shoved my pregnant belly, and I stumbled backward.

“YOU’RE the homewrecker destroying my son’s family!” Martha’s shrill scream echoed through the room. My back slammed hard against the wall. My abdomen cramped violently. The baby in my arms was ripped away and handed back to Selina. Immediately, the boyguards erupted in righteous indignation: “That’s right! Everyone at Sterling Security knows Lucas and Selina are a couple!” “If it weren’t for Selina providing intel, how could Lucas have solved so many major cases and gotten promoted so fast?” “You useless ex-wife only ever held Lucas back. YOU should be ashamed!” Providing intel? Solving cases? Getting promoted? Wasn’t that all MY work for Lucas? He didn’t just steal my identity—he handed all my accomplishments to Selina. To make her look good. Why?! “Exactly! Even if you’re mentally ill, destroying a marriage is still illegal!” “You shameless slut, stop pretending to be Mrs. Lucas and dirtying our eyes! Mr. Lucas is merciful—if it were me, I’d have already…” The vicious insults continued relentlessly. And throughout this nightmare, I looked at the man standing off to the side, completely detached, looking down at me from his high perch. “Lucas.” My voice was weak. “You tell them… How exactly did you become Head of Security?” Lucas’s fingers clenched suddenly. He turned his head and looked at me coldly, a rare flash of hatred in his usually indifferent eyes. I laughed. “You said the frontline was too dangerous, that you didn’t want to risk your life. You wanted to stay in the safe zones. I agreed.” “After we got engaged, you said your rank was too low, that you weren’t worthy of me. So I begged my father.” “You said the cases were too complex, too hard to solve. I worked myself to exhaustion providing you with leads. And now you—” “ENOUGH!” Lucas roared. He strode forward and grabbed me by the throat, his eyes bloodshot and savage, screaming in my face: “You’re lying! Everything I have, I earned myself! What does it have to do with a useless woman like you?!” My throat burned. The suffocating pressure made my vision go black. My face turned purple from the blood rushing to my head. But seeing my conviction, Lucas was suddenly enraged beyond reason. The executives and socialites seemed to glimpse something. They began whispering amongst themselves. Seeing this, a dark gleam flashed in Selina’s eyes. Holding the baby, she suddenly dropped to her knees before me, crying tragically: “Evelyn, I’ve tolerated your delusional ramblings before.” “But on an occasion like this, if you spread lies, you’ll ruin Lucas’s future!” “I’m begging you. I’ll kowtow to you. Please stop this madness… please…” She crawled forward on her knees, clutching at my pant leg, about to slam her head against the floor. Lucas’s eyes widened in alarm. The hand strangling my throat released. He crouched down to help her up. But in the next second, Selina grabbed my leg and flung herself backward. At the same time, she screamed: “AHH! Sister Evelyn, just kick me to death!” Before I could react, Lucas’s hysterical slap came crashing down: “Evelyn! You ungrateful bitch!” My right cheek exploded in pain. I raised my hand to strike back, but Martha kicked me hard in the lower back. The moment I hit the ground, my stomach erupted in bone-deep agony. Bright red blood poured from between my legs. Within seconds, I was sitting in a pool of blood. I collapsed in the crimson puddle, my entire body wracked with unbearable pain, as if I were being torn apart. “My stomach… Lucas… it hurts…” Tears of blood streamed from my eyes. I reached out to him for help. But Martha’s foot came down hard on my hand, crushing my bones: “Bitch! Stop faking! My son won’t be threatened by you!” Tears blurred my vision. My lips trembled. “Lucas… I’m not faking… please… take me to the hospital…” But Lucas didn’t even turn to look at me. He only carefully protected Selina, his voice cold and ruthless: “Enough! Evelyn, stop pretending. Apologize to Selina!” “Always using the baby as a weapon—do you think I’ll believe you?!” As he spoke, Lucas turned back in fury. But the moment he saw the pool of blood beneath me… His disgust crumbled. A flicker of fear appeared in his eyes. Lucas knew my identity. He couldn’t just stand by and watch. I locked eyes with his panicked gaze. Gritting my teeth through the pain tearing through my insides, I snarled at him: “Lucas! If anything happens to the baby in my stomach! You—the biological father—” “Will be the one who killed him!” “My father, my brother—they’ll make your entire family pay with their lives! NOW! Take me to the hospital!”

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On the day of the Empress Dowager’s birthday, my husband’s childhood sweetheart, Wendy Shaw, showed up half-naked, wailing that my brother had ruined her purity. The noble ladies pointed at our family and spat. “Miss Shaw is a candidate for imperial consort. I can’t believe Mr. Greenwood would do something so bold! He should be beaten to death!” I took out the Imperial Pardon Token that our family received after our father died on the battlefield and begged for mercy. In the end, the Emperor spared my brother’s life and even bestowed a marriage between him and Wendy. But the very next moment, my husband, Eric Jones, struck in public and broke both of my brother’s legs. He leaned close to my ear and sighed softly. “If His Majesty’s anger isn’t vented now, he might remember this later and exterminate the entire Greenwood family.” My brother and I swallowed the humiliation. But seven and a half months later, Wendy gave birth to an eight-pound baby boy. My brother cried out, blood in his tears, “I’ve said it a thousand times, I never even touched a single finger of hers!” He had repeated those words countless times on that day, yet no one believed him. They only mocked him for daring to act but not to admit it. Dragging his crippled legs, he picked up the child and tried to file a formal accusation before the throne, only to have his skull smashed from behind by Eric. I opened my mouth to scream, but his hand clamped around my throat. “Have you ever thought about how Wendy and the child will live if you and your brother take this to His Majesty?” His eyes were ruthless. He strangled me to death, even as I was heavily pregnant. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very day of the birthday banquet. This time, I directly had my brother bound and locked inside a side hall. Yet Wendy still cried that someone had defiled her innocence. *** Wendy slammed her forehead against the dragon-carved pillar until blood streaked down her face. Sobbing, she collapsed into the arms of several noble ladies, trembling as if the world had ended. “I’ve lost my purity. I’ve shamed the Shaw ancestors, and I can no longer face His Majesty. Just let me die!” The ladies shot me vicious looks, their eyes sharp as knives. Each of them burned with righteous fury, as if they wished to spit on me where I stood. “The Greenwood family has grown too arrogant! Guarding the frontier and then returning to violate a maiden chosen for the imperial consort selection?” “They rely on their military merit to act lawlessly, as if even the Emperor were beneath them!” “They brag about strict discipline in the army, yet dare behave so wildly under the Son of Heaven’s gaze. Who knows how many women at the border he’s already ruined!” I glanced at the man who was standing right next to Wendy. It was my husband, Eric. I suppressed the sneer tugging at my lips and spoke calmly, my voice slow and cold. “Miss Shaw, I’d suggest you think about what you say very carefully. Was it really my brother who raped you?” Wendy’s body stiffened, but then she cried even harder. “I already belong to Adam. Why must you humiliate me like this, my lady? I… I might as well die!” She lunged for the pillar again, but the noble ladies hurriedly grabbed her and held her back. Eric walked over to me and dragged me to one side. “Laura Greenwood,” he said through clenched teeth, “your brother committed a beastly crime, yet instead of making him confess, you dare use your status to bully and interrogate Wendy? The honor your Greenwood men won with their blood on the battlefield has been completely ruined by you siblings!” I winced at the pain from his tight grip. But inside, I couldn’t help letting out a cold, silent laugh.

About an hour ago, I personally tied Adam up as if he were a prisoner of war and locked him in a side hall. How could he possibly have slipped out and violated Wendy? I lifted my gaze, fearless, and met Eric’s eyes. “Eric, are you certain it was my brother?” His expression turned vicious. He leaned close, spitting the words at my face. “I knocked that beast unconscious myself, tied him up, and saved Wendy. Do you think I wouldn’t recognize my own brother-in-law?” My heart skipped a beat at those words. Could it be that Adam had broken out of the side hall? “How long are you going to keep this up, Mrs. Jones?” one of the elder matron asked. “As the wife of a court official, instead of easing your husband’s burdens, you shield your scandalous, debauched brother. You are utterly unfit to be the mistress of the Jones household!” “Must Lord Jones twist the law for your sake? Must he protect that disgraceful brother of yours and drive Miss Shaw to her death before you’re satisfied?” Eric glared at me. “Stop embarrassing yourself, Laura!” I snorted and scanned everyone in the room, who thought they were on the side of justice. “Looks like you’re going to pin the blame on my brother no matter if Miss Shaw is raped or not today.” “What?” Tears streamed down Wendy’s cheeks as if she had suffered a huge grievance. She trembled as she took out a handkerchief covered in blood and threw it at my feet. Her voice broke, every word soaked in grievance. “I, Wendy, a sheltered maiden of good family, am I some shameless, wanton harlot who would willingly debase herself? If the Greenwood family refuses to acknowledge this, then I will die here today and never stain your noble name with my presence!” With that, she turned and rushed toward the pillar again. The noble ladies cried out in alarm, grabbing her and holding her fast. “Don’t do that, silly girl. It’s all that pervert from the Greenwood family’s fault! It’s already bad enough that you were raped; we can’t let you just kill yourself like that. We can’t let that bastard off that easily!” shouted the elderly woman. She then turned to me, “Miss Shaw is a candidate for imperial consort. One day she may bear heirs for the royal family! Your Greenwood household is only a minor marquisate. Do you really think you’re some prized treasure, that she would ruin her own reputation just to frame you?” Eric frowned and seized my wrist, putting on the guise of someone acting for my own good. “Stop this nonsense, Laura. Just admit that Adam’s behind all of this and make preparations for Adam and Wendy’s wedding. After that, you need to beg His Majesty for his forgiveness. His Majesty is benevolent. Perhaps he’ll spare Adam’s life. Otherwise, merely for defiling a consort candidate, extermination of the entire family would be considered lenient.” In my previous life, I was tricked by those same words. I believed my brother had truly committed a drunken mistake. Out of guilt, I handed over half the Northern Marquis’ Estate as betrothal gifts to the Shaw family, and treated Wendy like an honored ancestor. In the end, she gave birth to a bastard child after only seven and a half months, and destroyed my entire family. The memory made my stomach churn with nausea. I used all my strength to pull my arm out of Eric’s hand. “You want Wendy to marry into our family? No way!” I shouted. Eric’s face immediately darkened, his gaze turning vicious. Before he could lash out, a commotion rippled through the crowd. Wendy’s father, John Shaw, hurried in.

His face was livid, his whole body trembling with fury. He strode straight up to her and raised his hand. A loud, sharp slap rang out. The blow sent her sprawling to the ground, blood seeping from the corner of her mouth. “Why are you still alive, you embarrassing piece of shit? Guards! Take this whore away and strangle her to death! I don’t want her embarrassing the Shaw family!” Two servants of the Shaw family immediately walked forward. “That won’t be necessary, Father,” cried Wendy as she took off her silver hairpin and stabbed it at her own neck. The hall erupted at once. Some were gasping, some tried to stop Wendy, and others turned to me. “Mrs. Jones, are you just going to stand and watch all of this? If your brother hadn’t done something so vile, would Miss Shaw be driven to this? Where’s your conscience?” I watched the spectacle with cold eyes and said nothing. A ruthless look flashed in Wendy’s eyes as she pushed the hairpin into her neck. Blood gushed out instantly. All the noble ladies gasped. “Heavens above! The Greenwood family has driven someone to suicide!” Eric’s face completely changed. He rushed forward and took the hairpin from Wendy’s hand. “Quick! Summon the imperial doctor!” He quickly ripped off a piece of his clothes and pressed it against the bleeding wound on Wendy’s neck. Wendy was surrounded by people as she blinked weakly. Yet when her gaze brushed past me, there was no will to die in her eyes, only a faint, triumphant gleam, as if victory were already within reach. After Wendy’s wound was taken care of, Eric walked up to me. “You evil bitch!” he cursed angrily and slapped me hard across my face. The blow caused me to stumble and fall. My palms skidded across the cold, hard floor and immediately began to bleed. My left cheek was burning with pain, and my left ear was ringing as well. Eric pointed at me as he looked at me with cunning eyes. “How can you be so ruthless? Do you really want to force Wendy to her death? The Jones family has no place for such a ruthless woman like you! I’ll divorce you right now!” All the noble ladies nodded in agreement. They even began clapping and cheering. “You did the right thing, Mr. Jones! You should divorce this evil bitch!” I was bombarded with curses and insults. They all looked like they wanted to throw rotten eggs at me. I swallowed the blood in my mouth and ignored the scorching pain in my palm as I forced myself up from the ground. “Accusations require proof, Mr. Jones. Which one of you has actually seen my brother raping Wendy?” Everyone present looked at each other in a daze. Eric sneered. “Looks like you just don’t know when to give up!” He walked quickly to the corner of the hall and kicked a sack that was guarded by a couple of guards. He then bent down and untied the rope, reached in, felt around a little, and pulled out a Silver Cloud Circlet. He held the circlet high and turned to face the others. “Take a look, everyone! This Silver Cloud Circlet is something only a Marquis can wear! Of all the Marquises in the kingdom, only my brother-in-law, Adam Greenwood, is missing! The rest are all present!” Eric’s gaze was sharp as a knife. He threw the circlet, which still had a few strands of hair on it, towards me. “What else do you have to say, Laura?” My heart sank at the sight of the circlet. This circlet was indeed the one that Adam was wearing today. Could it be that someone had released Adam after I left? No, that was impossible! John cursed, “Are you still going to say it’s not your brother now that we have solid evidence?” I gritted my teeth and looked straight at Eric as I laughed sarcastically. “Well, that’s strange. My brother and I have only just gotten back to Impelia from the boarders. We might not have attended banquets often, but we’ve never caused any problems. Why was it that when I especially told my brother to stay by your side, Eric, to learn proper etiquette, such a thing happened? Who exactly is having an affair with Wendy and wants to frame my brother and family for it?” “That’s nonsense!” Eric shouted angrily. He was clearly in a panic. A couple of men held him back. Everyone present shook their heads at me. “You’ve really lost it! You are actually trying to frame your husband just to protect your brother!” “You really have no conscience! Looks like you want to drag the Jones family down with you!” “I really feel sorry for Eric to have married such a heartless woman!” A couple of kind elders came over and tried to calm me down. “Let’s not make things more complicated than they already are, Laura. Just apologize to Eric. We can still work something out.” I pushed their hands away and sneered. “Why should I apologize? I did nothing wrong!” Someone present mumbled, “Mr. Jones and Miss Shaw grew up together. If there really was something between them, would Eric have married her?” Everyone present felt the statement sounded a little weird, but soon, realization dawned on them. An elderly lady of the Jones family became anxious and grabbed my arm. “What’s gotten into you? All the men of the Greenwood family have died on the battlefield, and your brother’s the only man left! If His Majesty and Empress Dowager find out about this, what would they do to your brother?” I couldn’t help but recall what happened in my previous life. After Adam’s legs were crippled, all he could do was lie in bed all day. His wound became infected and began to rot. He used to be the most talented young general in the army, but ended up being a cripple who couldn’t even walk. I couldn’t forget the hopeless look in his eyes when he was nothing but skin and bones and wishing he were dead.

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During our first date after getting back together, my boyfriend, Jake Shaw, and I got caught in an escalator accident at a shopping center. As a firefighter, Jake immediately rushed to his friend Jessica Rane and led her away from the escalator. I, however, tripped over the escalator handrail and fell to the ground. After I was rescued, Jake calmly explained, “You had just stepped onto the escalator, so you had time to step back. I was closer to Jessica, so saving her was the best option…” He listed dozens of reasons for me, but in the end, he looked at me and said helplessly, “Stop sulking, Laura.” I tightened the bandage around my wound and said softly, “Why don’t you go check on Jessica? She’s just next door.” Jake smiled as if he were happy with my reply. He held my hand and said, as if giving a reward, “Didn’t you always want to go see the aurora lights, Laura? I’ll go with you once Jessica fully recovers.” That was a wish I made in front of Jake when we were both 18. But I only got a reply when we were 28. I raised my head and looked Jake in the eyes before nodding my head meaningfully. Seeing that I wasn’t as happy as he expected, Jake furrowed his brows, about to speak, but someone entered the room. He let go of my hand and rushed towards the person who just came into the ward. His voice was gentler than ever. “Shouldn’t you be resting in bed, Jessica? The doctor said that you need to rest for your legs to recover.” Jessica allowed Jake to pull her into his arms and said, “I was afraid that Laura’s going to be mad at you for what happened, so I came to explain things to her for you. Look at how thoughtful I am.” With that said, she turned to me and curved her lips. “Please don’t get the wrong idea, Laura. Jake and I are just good buddies. He chose to save me instead of you this time because he was closer to me. I hope you won’t mind.” I ignored her and unlocked my phone to book a one-way ticket to Iceland. Jake furrowed his brows as if he was unhappy with me remaining silent. “Don’t go too far, Laura.” Jessica clicked her tongue and chuckled. “Looks like Laura’s still mad. Women are so complicated. Looks like it’s better to be friends. Let go of me, Jake. I’ll kneel down and apologize to Laura.” Jake naturally wasn’t going to let Jessica get on her knees. He picked her up in his arms and turned to leave. Before he left, he said, “There should be a limit to your attitude. Looks like I’ve spoiled you for too long.” Jake slammed the door shut, and the sound echoed in the ward as if telling me how angry Jake was. Like countless times before, he pinned the blame on me before I even said anything. Later that day, I saw Jessica’s Twitter post. “Heading off to Iceland to see the aurora lights with my bro!” The post had a picture of a text confirming Jake and Jessica’s flight to Iceland in five days’ time. I liked the post, and it was immediately deleted. In their childhood friends group chat, someone asked, “Why did you delete the post, Jessica? I was just about to comment.” Jessica replied with a crying emoji and said, “I forgot to block a certain someone, and she saw it. She loves competing with others for attention. I’m afraid that she’ll throw another tantrum.” Jake’s friends in the group chat began commenting sarcastically. “Has Jake gotten back together with that drama queen again? Where are his standards? How is she better than Jessica?” “I’ve heard that she’s sulking because Jake saved Jessica first and not her during the escalator accident. It was a good thing that Jake chose to ignore her. It’s bros before hoes after all.” “Who knows? All men probably like women who act weak in front of them. Independent women like Jessica aren’t really the first choice for men.” Members of the group chat were all Jake’s childhood friends. In the past, I would’ve argued with them in the group chat or confronted Jake directly. But now, I just left the group chat and deleted everyone. A short while later, I received a message from Jake. He sent me a picture with a flight number circled. “We’re going to Iceland on this flight in three days’ time. You book your own ticket. Jessica and I have booked ours. I’m only taking you with us because Jessica asked me to. You should really reflect on your own actions, Laura.” I pursed my lips. He could see the messages in the group chat, but he didn’t say anything on my behalf.

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I’ve always been a petty man. In my world, if you throw mud at me, I don’t just throw it back-I burn your entire house down with you inside it. When I was ten, our neighbor Mrs. Henderson accused me of stealing a package from her doorstep. I didn’t do it, but she told the whole street I was a thief. That night, I snuck into her backyard and blasted death metal through her garden speakers at three in the morning. She never said a bad word about me again. After I started my career, a colleague whispered that I only got promoted because I was sleeping with the female lead. At the annual gala, I played the hidden camera footage of him and that same boss moaning in the supply closet on a 50-foot loop. After that, people learned to keep my name out of their mouths. They called me crazy. Unhinged. A psycho. I didn’t give a damn. Then my family found me a fianc閑. Charlotte Ashford. Old money. Manhattan elite. The night before our wedding, she threw a pre-wedding party at some overpriced rooftop bar in Tribeca. I showed up because my father insisted. “The Ashfords are critical business partners, Vincent. Play nice.” Play nice. Right. I was nursing a whiskey when her “best friend” Ethan Lawrence-some trust fund brat who’d been orbiting Charlotte since prep school-decided to run his mouth. He leaned against Charlotte’s shoulder, smirking at me like we were sharing some inside joke. “Vincent, I heard your dad married into money. A real boy-toy situation, you know? And word is you’re just like him-living off women. Got dumped by some rich cougar before you latched onto our Charlie, right?” Charlotte’s friends erupted into laughter. Champagne glasses clinked. Eyes gleamed with malicious amusement, waiting to see if I’d crumble. I set down my glass. Picked up the empty bottle next to it. Then I smashed it against the edge of the bar. The sound cut through the music like a gunshot. Glass shards scattered across the marble floor. I pressed the jagged edge against Ethan’s cheek, close enough that he went pale. “Charlotte,” I said, not breaking eye contact with him. “You’ve got so many friends here. You won’t miss this one, right?” …… Charlotte’s face went ice-cold. She slapped my hand away hard enough that the bottle neck clattered to the floor. “Vincent, what the hell is wrong with you?” “It was a joke! Ethan was joking. Are you seriously this fragile?” Her friends piled on immediately. “Vincent, Charlotte’s doing you a favor by marrying you. Your family legacy would be nothing without the Ashfords. You should be grateful, not throwing tantrums.” “Ethan’s known Charlie since they were kids. They’re like family. You threatening him? That’s insane.” “You should learn how to tolerate your future wife-and her friends, Vincent. ” I laughed. Genuinely laughed. I bent down, picked up a shard of glass, and twirled it between my fingers. “Here’s the thing,” I said, my voice calm. “I’ve never had a sense of humor. Never learned to take a joke. So when people joke about me, I take them as the joke.” I locked eyes with Ethan, whose face had gone from smug to terrified. “For example, if someone says my father’s a gold digger, I’d be justified in assuming theirs was too. That they’re just a bastard child from an affair, swept under the rug to avoid scandal. Isn’t that right , Ethan?” Ethan’s body went rigid. Tears welled in his eyes instantly. Charlotte grabbed my wrist, her nails digging into my skin. “Vincent, you apologize to Ethan. Right now.” “Where do you get off saying something like that? Ethan’s father died saving my dad in a construction accident. My family took him in out of gratitude!” “Say one more word, and I’ll throw you out of here myself.” Ethan cowered behind her, playing the victim perfectly. “Charlie, don’t be mad at Vincent. Maybe I said the wrong thing… I’m sorry, Vincent. I shouldn’t have joked like that.” Her friends immediately turned on me. “Ethan apologized. What more do you want, Vincent? Besides, Ethan’s not wrong-we’ve all seen you getting out of different women’s cars. Who knows what you were doing in there?” “You’re marrying Charlotte tomorrow. Maybe tone down the psycho act? If you can’t handle some friendly banter, maybe don’t show up.” I was genuinely amused by these idiots. Before I came tonight, my father had given me his usual lecture: “The Ashfords are crucial partners, Vincent. This alliance benefits both families.” I tried to follow his advice, but honestly, they don’t treat me like a partner. This is truly regrettable,for them. I learned early on that backing down only makes you a target. The only way to survive is to be crazier, meaner, and more vicious than anyone else. If someone bites you, you don’t just bite back. You shatter their teeth and make them choke on the fragments. I slowly released the glass shard from my palm, letting it fall. “You’re right. Getting upset over something so trivial-that’s immature of me.” Their faces lit up with smug satisfaction. Charlotte’s expression softened slightly. She opened her mouth to say something conciliatory. I cut her off. “But if we’re talking about playing games…” I smiled. “I’m the best there is.” “You want to play? Let’s play. Come on. Let’s continue.”

I scanned the crowd of vultures circling for entertainment. Grabbed a glass and started pouring every liquor I could find into it. Whiskey, vodka, tequila, gin, rum-seven or eight different kinds, creating a toxic cocktail that looked like it could strip paint. “Here’s the game. Loser drinks this. Then answers one question from the winner-total honesty required.” “If you lie or refuse to answer, you drink three more.” One of Charlotte’s friends sneered. “Games need stakes, Vincent. What are you putting up? Or are you broke as well as boring?” I swirled the toxic mixture, my smile widening. Then I pulled out my black AmEx card and slammed it on the table. “Anyone who gets me to drink, even just one sip, will get my card with unlimited credit.” The room went dead silent. Charlotte’s face flushed with anger. “Vincent, enough. You think you can humiliate people just because you have money?” I ignored her. Kept my eyes locked on Ethan. “What’s wrong? Scared to play? You were so chatty a minute ago.” “Ethan. You’re up first.” Ethan’s eyes were glued to that black card like a starving man staring at a steak. He rolled the dice. I didn’t even look before I opened the cup. Six sixes. Ethan’s face went ghost-white. “Truth or dare,” I said. “Did your mother marry your father before or after you were born?” His body started trembling. “I… I choose dare!” I nodded slowly, sliding the toxic cocktail toward him. “Fair enough. Drink this. Then call your dad and tell him, on speaker, that Ethan’s father was the real gold digger.” Ethan broke instantly. “Charlie! I don’t want to! I don’t want to play anymore!” Pathetic. Two moves and I’d already peeled back his skin. Charlotte exploded. She shoved me hard. “Vincent, enough! Ethan’s young, he doesn’t know better. How can you be so cruel?” I actually laughed. Charlotte was too stupid to see manipulation even when it slapped her in the face. “When he was slandering my father and calling me a parasite, you didn’t say he was ‘young.’ Interesting double standard.” I stepped closer, voice dropping. “Charlotte, you’re protecting him so hard, people might think he’s your fianc?instead of me.” “Your ‘best friend’-is that code for fuck buddy?” Charlotte’s hand flew up to slap me. I didn’t dodge. Just stared at her. “Go ahead. Hit me.” “Let everyone see how the great Charlotte Ashford assaults her fianc?to defend some other man’s illegitimate son.” “Should I call your father? Let him know tomorrow’s wedding is off?” I pulled out my phone, thumb hovering over the contact. Charlotte panicked. She grabbed my phone and hurled it to the ground, shattering the screen. “Vincent, you’re being unreasonable!” “The wedding’s tomorrow. Go home and think about what you did. Don’t embarrass yourself-and me-at the ceremony.” She wrapped a protective arm around the still-whimpering Ethan and marched out. Her friends followed, throwing sneers and insults my way. I stood there, surrounded by broken glass and spilled liquor, and smiled. Perfect. Tomorrow, we’d see who the real joke was.

I got home and immediately grabbed my burner phone. Dialed a number I’d kept for emergencies. “I need everything on Ethan Lawrence. And I mean everything. His father’s death, his mother’s history, the Ashford connection-all of it.” “The dirtier, the better.” The voice on the other end chuckled. “Mr. Sterling, it’s your wedding eve. You sure you want to go nuclear?” “Less talking. Have it in my email by morning.” I hung up and stared at my reflection in the window. Charlotte. Ethan. You think this is over? You threw mud at me. Now I’m going to make you eat it-mixed with broken glass and blood. The next day was the so-called “wedding of the century.” Sterling and Ashford families united. Manhattan’s elite packed into the Plaza ballroom. My father cornered me in the groom’s suite. “Vincent, keep your temper in check today. This is your wedding.” “If you don’t want Charlotte, fine. You can live separately after. She’ll have the Sterling name, Just a nominal Mrs.Sterling.but you’ll have the real power. That’s what matters.” I gave him a tight smile. Said nothing. My temper wasn’t something I could turn on and off. It was a wildfire, and once lit, it consumed everything. As I stepped into the ballroom, my phone buzzed. It was a number I didn’t recognize I answered, and immediately, I knew something was wrong. And then I realized-maybe this is a good opportunity. Without hesitation, I synced my phone to the ballroom’s wireless speakers. Every guest in the room went silent as Ethan’s voice flooded the space. “Charlie… this is all my fault. If I hadn’t been so upset because you’re getting married tomorrow, we wouldn’t have… God, we shouldn’t have slept together.” “You’re getting married today. I gave you my virginity. What if Vincent finds out? What if he makes a scene?” Charlotte’s voice came through, soft and reassuring. “This isn’t your fault, Ethan. Vincent pushed you. It just… happened. We got carried away.” “If there’s a baby, I’ll keep it. I’ll raise it. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” I walked calmly to the stage, picked up the microphone. “Sorry to interrupt, everyone.” “Looks like my bride has some unfinished business with her best friend.” Charlotte’s parents looked like they’d been struck by lightning. Her father roared toward the back rooms. “Charlotte! Get out here right now!” She emerged seconds later, still in her wedding gown, face pale with shock. When she realized what had happened, her eyes found mine across the room. Pure, venomous hatred. But with hundreds of witnesses staring at her, she had no choice. Her father slapped her. Hard. “Apologize to Vincent. Now. Or you’re no daughter of mine.” Charlotte’s voice was barely a whisper, choked with rage. “I’m sorry, Vincent. Ethan and I… it was a mistake. I swear I’ll never see him again.” She glared at me with such intensity I could feel it burning. I gave her my most charming smile. This alliance was dead anyway. I wasn’t marrying damaged goods. I opened my mouth to officially end this charade- When my phone buzzed. A photo. My mother. Bound with rope. Dangling from the edge of a rooftop. Every drop of blood drained from my face.

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The day my Harvard acceptance letter arrived, everyone expected me to frame it. Mount it on the wall like a trophy. Proof that Liam Vance had finally made it. Instead, I declined the offer and enrolled at MIT. It wasn’t impulse. It wasn’t rebellion. It was survival. Because I reborn. In last life, accepting Harvard meant becoming the perfect husband for Seraphina. It meant watching her, six months pregnant with my child, stand over me with a smile. “If you hadn’t gone to Harvard,” she’d whispered, rope cutting into my wrists as I hung from the ceiling beam, “my family never would have chosen you. And my love wouldn’t have drowned his heartbreak at that club. They wouldn’t have found him dead in some backroom, servicing strangers for pills.” Her voice had been so calm. So rational. “You stole his place. So you’ll pay with your life. Piece. By. Piece.” She deliberately had a miscarriage that night. The reason was that she didn’t want to have a child with me. She felt disgusted. I died at the same night… And then I woke up. Eighteen years old. Acceptance letters scattered across my desk. The same day. My phone buzzed. Mr. Kowalski, my guidance counselor. “Liam, the deadline’s tonight. Harvard’s waiting. You’re really going to make them sweat?” I ended the call and stared at the MIT enrollment form on my laptop screen. Different path. Different future. No Seraphina. The door flew open. “Liam.” My mother swept in. Her hands fluttered. “Tell me you’ve confirmed Harvard. Please. I need to hear you say it.” Seeing mom now—alive, whole, not beaten to death by Hawthorne security—made my throat close. In that other life, she’d found my body. Seen what Seraphina had done. And she’d lunged at the woman who’d butchered her son. The Hawthorne guards hadn’t hesitated. I reached for her hand. “I’m going to MIT, Mom. The research programs align better with my focus. Cybersecurity architecture, AI ethics, systems integrity—” “No.” She yanked her hand back. “You’re going to Harvard. Do you understand me? When you fall, you get back up where you fell. I taught you that.” My blood went cold. She remembers. She reborn too? “Mom—” The front door slammed. My father’s voice boomed through the house, followed by a second set of footsteps. Lighter. Deliberate. “Julian! Come on in, son. Let me grab you something to drink.” Julian Vance. Not my brother by blood. Not really. But my father—decorated veteran and self-made businessman—had adopted him at thirteen after his father, Dad’s Army buddy, died in combat. Except Julian’s father hadn’t died in combat. He’d died of a heart attack in a motel with his mistress, but my father had needed a redemption arc more than he’d needed the truth. I watched Julian glide into my room, all easy smiles. “Liam.” He clasped my shoulder. “Dad wants to talk to you about Harvard. He’s really proud, man.” My father appeared behind him, already talking. “Two spots. Harvard only takes two from Riverside Prep, and this year it’s a miracle we got that many. Liam—” He looked at me the way you’d look at a stain. “You’re going to withdraw your acceptance.” My mother stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“Julian needs this.” Dad’s voice carried the weight of absolute authority. “His father gave his life for this country. For me. The least we can do is make sure his son has every advantage. Liam’s smart—he’ll land on his feet. MIT, Stanford, whatever. But Harvard?” He put his arm around Julian. “That’s Julian’s spot. And the Hawthorne family is looking for a Harvard man to marry their daughter. That’s his future. Not Liam’s.” “He earned his acceptance—” “And Julian earned our loyalty!” My father’s face flushed. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to owe someone your life? His father took a bullet meant for me. So yes, Elena. Julian gets the girl, the school, and the life. That’s not negotiable.” My mother looked at me, and I saw it again—that flash of something ruthless beneath her beauty queen mask. She remembered Julian sitting outside while I bled out. She was trying to weaponize me against him. I pulled out my phone and opened the photo album. Found last night’s graduation party. There. Julian and Seraphina Hawthorne, tucked into a corner booth at The Dorset Club. Her hand on his thigh under the table. His mouth at her ear. The angle of the shot made it clear—this wasn’t friendly. This was ownership. I held up the phone. “They’ve been together for months.” My voice came out flat. Clinical. “So it doesn’t matter where I go. I’m not in the running.” Julian’s smile never wavered. “Liam.” He sighed, wounded. “I know you had feelings for Sera. But she sees you as a friend. A brother, even. You need to let her go.” He checked his watch. “Actually, I’m late. We’re catching a movie. Dad, you coming?” My father was already grabbing his keys. “I’ll drive you.” The door slammed. Silence. Then my mother’s hand cracked across my face. “You coward.” I tasted blood. “I thought getting a second chance meant you’d be smarter. Faster. But you’re still the same pathetic boy who let them walk all over him.” Her voice shook. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me in this house? Your father worships Julian. Your grandmother thinks I’m worthless because I can’t control you. My entire future depends on you marrying into the Hawthorne family, and you’re just going to—what? Run away to MIT and play with computers?” The same script as before. Always the same. In last life, I’d internalized it. Believed I owed her my success. My sacrifice. My life. I’d studied until I couldn’t see straight. Married a woman I didn’t love. Let myself be reshaped into the perfect Hawthorne son-in-law because I thought it would finally be enough. It never was. “I’m going to MIT,” I said quietly. “And this time, I’m living for myself.” She opened her mouth, but I was already walking out.

I should’ve known it wouldn’t be that simple. That night, I woke to the sound of my bedroom door clicking open. My father stood silhouetted in the hallway light. Behind him—Seraphina. I lunged out of bed. “What the hell—” But they were already at my desk. My laptop glowed, enrollment page still open. Seraphina’s finger hovered over the keyboard. “Don’t you dare—” My father caught me in a bear hug, pinning my arms. “She’s doing you a favor, son. Trust me.” “That’s my MIT enrollment—” Seraphina clicked DELETE. The page refreshed. Application Withdrawn. I went numb. “Seraphina—why?” She didn’t even look at me. Just reached down and unplugged the laptop, lifting it by the screen. “What are you—” “If I leave the computer intact, you’ll find a way to re-enroll.” Her voice was ice. “I won’t make that mistake.” She raised the laptop above her head. “No no no—please—” It shattered against the hardwood. Glass and circuitry exploded across the floor. I stopped fighting. My father released me, and I collapsed to my knees, staring at the wreckage. “You knew I picked MIT,” I whispered. “I told you this morning.” Seraphina crouched in front of me, and for the first time, I saw her eyes. Empty. Flat. She’d reborn too. “You said a lot of things last time,” she murmured. “You said you didn’t want me. You said you weren’t interested. But the first night we were together, you were in my bed before I’d even finished unpacking.” My stomach lurched. “That wasn’t—Sera, your roommate drugged me. You know that. She wanted to humiliate me at the party, and I came to you because I trusted—” “Liar.” The word landed like a slap. She stood, smoothing her skirt. “You manipulated me from day one. Played hard to get so I’d chase you. And the moment you had me, you ruined everything.” She turned to Julian, who’d appeared in the doorway. Her voice went soft. Tender. “It’s done, baby. He can’t threaten you anymore.” Julian’s smile was small. Satisfied. “Wait—” My mind raced. “Sera, I’m not trying to come between you two. I want you to be together. Just let me go. I’ll transfer schools, move across the country, whatever you need—” “You really think it’s that simple?” She leaned close, her breath cold against my ear. “Did you think I’d forget what you did to Julian in last life? How you let him die?” “I already paid for that. I died—” “Not enough.” Her whisper was a blade. “I’m going to make you watch Julian and me build the life you stole from him. And you—” Her lips curved. “You’re going to spend every day in hell.” She straightened. “Oh, and before I deleted your enrollment? I submitted a formal withdrawal letter to MIT on your behalf. Citing personal reasons and a commitment to Harvard.” She tilted her head. “Congrats, Liam. You’re going to be a Hawthorne after all.”

They locked me in my room after that. Took my phone. My laptop. Even the old iPad I kept in my desk drawer. For three days, I was a prisoner in my own house. But they didn’t know about the backup phone taped under my bed frame. The one I’d bought with cash the day I woke up reborn, because some paranoid part of me knew they’d try this. I powered it on and opened my email. One unread message. From: MIT Admissions Subject: Enrollment Confirmed Dear Liam Vance, Welcome to MIT. Your enrollment in the Computer Science and Engineering program has been finalized. We look forward to seeing you at orientation on September 1st. I closed my eyes, exhaling for what felt like the first time in days. The system Seraphina had accessed wasn’t real. I’d built a dummy server the day I got the acceptance letter—a perfect replica of MIT’s enrollment portal, hosted locally on my laptop. If anyone tried to tamper with my decision, they’d be deleting a ghost. The real enrollment had gone through the morning I woke up in this timeline. I texted my best friend Marcus: Need you to grab my dorm stuff and meet me at South Station. Day before move-in. I’ll explain later. His reply came in seconds: Dude. What did you DO? Escaped. — Move-in day. I waited until my mother left for her book club and my father took Julian shopping for his dorm at Langford College—the private liberal arts school Seraphina’s family had paid to accept him after his 140 SAT score. Picked the bedroom lock in twenty minutes. Walked out the front door. Took the subway to South Station and didn’t look back. The train to Boston pulled away from the platform, and I watched my childhood disappear through the window. For the first time since I’d woken up in this nightmare, I let myself breathe. — I dozed off somewhere around Providence. When I woke up, something felt wrong. The train had stopped. But we weren’t at South Station. I looked out the window—and my blood turned to ice. We were at a private rail platform. Sleek. Modern. The kind of place you only accessed with a keycard and a seven-figure bank account. And standing on the platform, arms crossed, was my mother. She smiled when she saw me. “Liam. You’re awake. Perfect timing.” The train doors hissed open, and two men in black suits stepped aboard. “Mrs. Vance.” The taller one nodded. “We’ll take him from here.” “Wait—Mom—what is this?” She leaned into the train, her smile bright and terrible. “The Hawthornes are very excited to meet their future son-in-law, sweetheart. Seraphina’s been asking about you.” “I’m not—I don’t want—” “You’re eighteen. You’re brilliant. And you’re exactly what the Hawthorne family looks for in a match.” She stepped back as the men hauled me to my feet. “Oh, and I have wonderful news. They’ve agreed to let you and Seraphina get engaged today. Isn’t that romantic? The wedding will be right after her graduation.” “You can’t do this—” “I can. And I am.” She waved as they dragged me onto the platform. “The Hawthorne estate is lovely this time of year. You’ll see.”

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I’m a research scientist at Ares Biotech, one of the most prestigious defense contractors in the country. When the Principal Scientist promotion committee convened, my wife Lydia-a voting member-struck my name from the candidate list. Again. After five consecutive rejections, I was forced out under the company’s “up or out” policy. I refused to quit science. I leased a private lab and continued my work independently. Six months later, the lab caught fire. I was trapped inside with a young intern named Parker Stone. Through the smoke, I saw Lydia burst through the door. For one desperate second, I thought she’d come for me. She ran straight past me. She grabbed Parker by the arm and dragged him toward the exit. I reached out, my hand closing on empty air as flames licked closer. She looked back once. Her eyes were cold, clinical. “Parker’s a Principal Scientist. His work is classified. He’s more valuable than you.” The ceiling collapsed. Fire swallowed everything. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in our apartment. Lydia was leaning against me, pouting prettily, her fingers playing with my collar. “Arthur, baby, just withdraw from the promotion round this year. Do it for us.” I recognized this moment. This exact conversation. Three years ago. The first time she’d asked me to step aside. I shoved her away so hard she stumbled. “You want me to withdraw? So you can take my spot?” I looked at her like she was a stranger. “Not a chance in hell.”

Lydia froze, shocked and confused. “Arthur Vance, is waiting one more year really so hard? Why are you competing against your own wife?” I stared at the candidate roster on her tablet. Arthur Vance. Marcus Smith. Lydia Sterling. Only three spots available for Principal Scientist this cycle. “There are only three openings,” she continued, her voice with that insufferable self-righteous edge. “We can’t both make it. If you wait a year, you can focus on your research instead of this political nonsense. Why are you being so selfish?” “You claim to love science, but all you care about is climbing the ladder. I’m disappointed in you.” Her words yanked me back to reality. The same script. Word for word. In my first life, I’d believed her. I withdrew my application. She got promoted. She’d promised it was temporary. “You’re young, talented, respected. You’ll get your turn next year.” But ten years later, she was still saying: “You’re aging out, Arthur. Science needs fresh blood. It’s time to make room for the next generation.” Past and present overlapped. I saw both versions of her face-the manipulative wife and the woman who’d left me to burn. Lydia grabbed my arm, her voice rising. “I don’t care what you think. We’re going to the committee right now, and you’re withdrawing your application!” I jerked away from her touch. “My qualifications exceed every requirement. My publication record is flawless. Why the hell would I withdraw?” “You talk about ambition like it’s a disease. What’s your excuse for wanting the promotion, Lydia?” She hesitated, then her voice went shrill. “Because of you!” “You publish constantly, but you never add my name to your papers. Do you know how that makes me look? People whisper that I’m riding your coattails. If I get this promotion, no one will dare question my credentials again!” “So are you withdrawing or not?” I looked at her face, twisted by jealousy and ambition, and shook my head firmly. “No. I’m staying in the race.”

Lydia slammed the door on her way out. Watching her leave, I saw another image superimposed-her walking away from the fire, leaving me to die. In my previous life, we’d been married for twenty years. The only real fight we ever had came in my final year of eligibility-my last chance before mandatory retirement from research roles. By then, she’d clawed her way onto the promotion committee. For nine consecutive years, she struck my name from the finalist list. She called it integrity. “I’m on the committee. I have to avoid any appearance of favoritism.” But when I asked the other committee members, they all said the same thing: my publication record and project impact scores were the highest in the cohort. I should have been promoted years ago. By that point, Lydia had become Committee Chair. She wielded veto power. I tried reasoning with her one last time. “This isn’t about prestige. If I don’t get promoted this cycle, I’m out. Forced retirement. I won’t be able to do research anymore, Lydia. This is my life’s work.” She threw her coffee mug at the wall. “So you’re asking me to pull strings for you? Is that it, Arthur?” “No. I’m asking you to recuse yourself from the vote. Let the decision stand on its merits.” She ignored that completely. “Principal Scientist is just a pay bump and a better pension. You don’t care about money. Why are you so obsessed with a title?” “Besides, these positions are limited. We’re married. It would look bad if we monopolized two spots. I won’t let you guilt me into approving your promotion!” My last opportunity died with her veto. I was forced out of Ares Biotech. Twenty years of research, gone. But I couldn’t just stop. I rented a small lab downtown and continued working independently. Lydia opposed it viciously at first, accusing me of “stealing proprietary research for personal gain.” She came by twice to trash the equipment. Eventually I agreed to mentor a junior researcher. She backed off. The junior researcher was Parker Stone. Lazy attitude. Mediocre skills. Constant attitude problems. One afternoon, I asked him to sterilize the workbench with ethanol. He “accidentally” knocked over an open flame. The entire lab went up in minutes. We were both trapped. Lydia arrived with the fire department. I heard her shouting orders outside. “Prioritize Dr. Stone! He’s a Principal Scientist working on classified defense contracts! He cannot be lost!” “Ma’am, your husband-” “He’s just a family member. He knew the risks when he married into this field.” I gripped my lab notebook, my knuckles white. When she kicked down the door, I felt hope flare in my chest. We’d been together for twenty years. Surely- She kicked my outstretched hand away. She grabbed Parker by the shoulders and hauled him toward the exit. She didn’t look back. Her voice was flat, mechanical. “You’re expendable. He’s not.” That was Lydia Sterling. The woman who’d stolen my promotion. The woman who’d let me burn. This time, I’d make sure she never got the chance.

I knew Lydia would fight dirty. I didn’t realize how low she’d sink. Within two days, rumors spread through every department at Ares Biotech. Even members of my own research team started looking at me with contempt. “Dr. Smith, this data point looks off. Can you double-check the calculation?” I held out the report. My junior researcher, Sarah Smith, just stared at me, arms crossed. “Sorry, Dr. Vance. I’m not qualified for such important work. You should do it yourself.” “Excuse me?” She sneered. “Don’t play dumb. We all know what kind of person you are.” My jaw tightened. “If you have an accusation, take it to HR. But while you’re on my team, you’ll do your job.” Sarah threw her tablet down. “Who wants to be on your team? I heard you steal research from your wife and force her to commit academic fraud. Then you beat her when she refuses. You’re a fraud and an abuser. Why should we respect you?” The lab erupted in whispers. “I saw them arguing once,” someone said. “Lydia was begging him to credit her on a paper. Now it makes sense-she did all the work, and he took the glory.” “I heard he tells people women can’t do real science. That’s why he never collaborates with female researchers.” Every woman on my team was glaring at me now. So this was Lydia’s play. Before I could respond, the lab door opened. Lydia walked in. I moved toward her. “Lydia, we need to-” “No! Don’t hit me! I’ll do whatever you want!” She screamed and cowered, throwing her arms over her head. Every eye in the room locked onto me. One of the female researchers rushed over. “Oh my God, Lydia, your arms-what are those bruises?” “And your lip is split!” Instantly, the entire room turned on me. Lydia threw herself at my feet, the perfect picture of a battered wife. “Arthur, please, I’ll be good. I’ll listen. Just don’t hurt me anymore.” “I’ll do anything you ask. Please don’t be angry.” She started sobbing, angling her face so everyone could see the injuries clearly. “Please… don’t misunderstand. This isn’t his fault. I… I fell. That’s all.” The more she defended me, the more guilty I looked. “I always thought Dr. Vance seemed so professional,” someone muttered. “I can’t believe he’s a wife-beater.” “God, I actually found him attractive. Turns out he’s a monster.” In my first life, I thought her obstruction was about ethics. About maintaining her impartiality. I never imagined she’d stoop to character assassination. “We should report this to the Ethics Committee,” someone said loudly. “Or Security. Get this abuser fired.” Lydia immediately threw herself into my arms, shaking her head. “No, no. I love him. He only hits me sometimes. The rest of the time, he’s… he’s fine.” Everyone looked at her with pity. Several male researchers glared at me with obvious jealousy. Lydia pressed against me and whispered, so quietly only I could hear. “Everyone believes I’m the victim. No one cares if it’s true.” I tried to push her away. She let out a theatrical scream and collapsed. Immediately, two male colleagues grabbed me and slammed me face-first against the lab bench. “You’re attacking her in front of witnesses?” My cheek pressed against cold steel. Through the corner of my eye, I saw Lydia smirking. An hour later, I was sitting across from the Division Chief. “Dr. Vance, effective immediately, you’re suspended from all active projects pending investigation.” I looked him in the eye. “So I’m out of the promotion cycle.” “Your file won’t be reviewed during the suspension period. After the investigation concludes… we’ll see.” It didn’t matter that my research record was stronger than Lydia’s. With domestic violence allegations hanging over me, the committee would never approve my promotion. In a high-security defense contractor, even a hint of scandal was disqualifying. I left his office and walked straight to the Academic Integrity Committee. “I’m filing a formal complaint against Dr. Lydia Sterling for academic misconduct, falsification of research, and plagiarism.”

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