Category: English

On the day Leigh’s first love returned to the States, I set fire to our home. I left with nothing but the twin kids she’d given me. When she was gravely ill and needed a kidney, I didn’t hesitate to donate mine. Yet she believed I had done it all to marry her, blaming me for breaking up her romance with her first love. Now I’ve finally given up, faked my death, and left for good. But when she heard of my supposed death, she completely fell apart. Content ### Chapter 1 The Harvest Moon Festival is a day for family reunions and, for us, it’s also the kids’ birthday. After they begged Leigh over and over, she finally agreed to come home for once. She’d casually mentioned wanting a home-cooked meal, so despite being feverish, I pushed through and made a full spread of dishes. The food is long cold now, and the kids are still up, holding onto their cake, refusing to go to sleep. Leigh still hasn’t shown. My head is swimming, and after popping a handful of painkillers, I step outside. I know where she is. Whenever she’s restless, she always goes to her girlfriends to vent. I find her at The Estate; soft lights glow from the yard where she’s clinking glasses with her friends. “So Chase Maddox is back in town,” one of them says, laughing. “What’s your plan for Max Caldwell—the one you brought in to help your family—and those twins of yours?” I reach up to knock but freeze mid-air, my hand stopping in midair as I hear Leigh’s response. “I’ll divorce him. He can take the kids. No need to make Chase uncomfortable.” Her answer is cold, decisive, and just as I expected. After all, if it hadn’t been for Gramps Dawson pushing her to marry me on his deathbed, Chase would have never left for Europe. She used his departure as her own protest, vanishing on our wedding day and turning me into the town’s biggest joke. After a year of marriage without seeing each other, we had one impulsive night that ended with her pregnant with the twins. As soon as they were born, Leigh had the nurse take them away without a second look. To her, they were proof of her betrayal of the one she truly loved. When she promised to come home for the kids’ birthday, I thought maybe she was finally softening. But as silence settled over the night, one of her friends spoke up. “Honestly, your husband’s been good to you. Even after his family went bankrupt, he helped get your company off the ground, drinking with clients until he had stomach ulcers. All to see you succeed.” “Please,” another friend snorted. “Without him, Leigh would’ve done fine on her own. If he hadn’t butted in and donated that kidney, her grandpa wouldn’t have forced her to marry him. Chase and Leigh could’ve been together all these years.” “He’s nothing but a freeloader who thinks he’s still some kind of big shot. Just dump him already.” Hearing that, I felt my heart clench as Leigh spoke again, cool and dismissive. “Let’s drop the subject. Cheers.” Another friend gave a sly smile and teased, “Max Caldwell is handsome, I’ll give him that. And if you don’t want him anymore, why not let us sample what he’s got to offer?” “Just treat him like a model on demand!” Amid the laughter, Leigh silently raised her glass, downing her champagne in one go. ### Chapter 2 My life has rarely gone as planned. It veers off course, drifting in and out of freezing snowstorms. I first met Leigh Dawson at a Charity Gala held by my family’s foundation. Back then, I was still the Caldwell Heir, and she was just a young startup owner who had used a friend’s ticket to get in. Among the auction items that night was one of my own paintings. People were offering high bids, hoping for a way into the Caldwell circle. But tucked in a quiet corner was one girl completely absorbed in my painting. The piece, called Mother, was my proudest work. A tear fell from her eye as she gazed at it, unaware that I was watching her. When she finally noticed me, she took a few steps back, looking at me timidly. “You’re very talented, Mr. Caldwell. But I can’t afford it,” she said softly. It was like a gentle breeze touched my heart, setting it racing. Later, I learned that Leigh had lost her parents young and had been raised by her grandfather. She’d been deeply moved by my painting. I gifted it to her that night, beginning six years of unrequited love. Leigh was always composed, distant, never fully rejecting me but never reciprocating. And so, I kept trying to win her over, connecting her to resources and watching her company grow. But then the Caldwell empire crumbled, leaving me as the sole survivor. Physically alive, but that was all. Despite Aunt Caroline’s protests, I donated my kidney to Leigh. The complications nearly killed me, and I had to abandon my art. Gramps Dawson knew the debt his family owed me, and on his deathbed, he forced Leigh to marry me. Reluctantly, she agreed—with the condition that I’d move into her household. Only after we were married did I learn that her heart belonged to her first love. Her “husband” would always be someone else. That year, at the Harvest Moon Festival, Leigh came home drunk for the first time. I’d only meant to help her to bed, but she clung to me, her hands wandering over my body. “Kiss me,” she whispered. One impulsive act, one monumental mistake. When I woke up, she slapped me across the face, her eyes full of tears. “Marrying me wasn’t enough? You had to go and do something so low?” I should’ve left then. ### Chapter 3 Exhausted, I returned to The Estate, the prison of my marriage to Leigh. Sure enough, the kids were still up. They ran to me, clinging to my leg. “Daddy, is Mom back too?” They ran to the door, only to turn around disappointed, heads hanging. Piper’s face reddened, and he burst into tears. “Mommy doesn’t want us, does she?” My heart clenched painfully. I knelt down and hugged them. “I want you both. Will you come with me?” I couldn’t tell them that, to Leigh, they were just obstacles on her road to happiness. Arlo, ever the little grown-up, patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Daddy. Wherever you go, we’ll go too.” I finally got them to sleep and stumbled into the bathroom, letting the shower drown out my sobs. Becoming their father hadn’t brought them a moment of happiness. Leigh had wanted to abort them as soon as she found out, only stopping when the doctor told her she’d never be able to have children again. She still dreamed of having kids with Chase. When the twins were born, she refused to even look at them, calling them disgusting. I raised them on my own, becoming both father and mother. Outside, she denied their existence. If they tried to call her “Mom,” she’d scold them as if they were strangers. Leaving is freedom for all of us. But maybe, out of guilt, Leigh remembered her promise to the kids. Late that night, she came back. I was packing when I heard her cold voice behind me. “What are you doing?” I turned and saw her staring at me with an unusual look in her slightly tipsy eyes. “Can’t sleep. Just cleaning up a bit,” I replied, trying to stay calm. A gust of cool night air blew in, cooling my fevered skin as Leigh stumbled into my arms, almost pleading. “Stay with me, Chase,” she whispered. She was so drunk she mistook me for him. Before I could pull away, she kissed me, her hands tugging impatiently at my shirt buttons, hungry and forceful. The mocking laughter of her friends echoed in my ears. “Just treat him like a model on demand!” ### Chapter 4 Humiliation and pain surged through me. I couldn’t take it anymore. I pushed her away. “If you love Chase so much, you shouldn’t have married me. Why put us both through this misery?” “I may love you, but I’m still a man with dignity.” Leigh’s gaze cleared, resentment darkening her eyes. I ignored her, continuing to pack my things. She grabbed my wrist and, noticing my feverish skin, scolded me, “Can’t you even take care of yourself?” She tried to check my temperature, but I shook her off. “You came looking for me. What did you hear?” I’d reached my breaking point and couldn’t hold back anymore. “You think Chase left because of our marriage? He left because he was afraid you’d make him donate his kidney!” “How dare you insult him!” she spat, throwing a glass at me. I didn’t dodge. It hit my forehead, shattering into pieces and drawing blood. To her, I was just a vessel for all her anger—smashable and replaceable. My blood blurred my vision, and for a moment, I thought I saw her reach out in concern, only to pull her hand back. She stood there, cold and unfeeling. “I came back like you wanted. Now leave me alone.” Her heels clicked away into the night, taking with them what little remained of my heart. The next morning, she had her assistant drop off birthday presents for Piper and Arlo. The kids left them at the door, unimpressed. Piper scoffed, “It’s not even my birthday today. What’s the point?” Arlo, indignant, declared, “We used to want her back for Daddy’s sake. Now that Daddy doesn’t want her, neither do we.” Even at barely two years old, they were already heartbreakingly mature, wise beyond their years. “Daddy,” Arlo asked in his soft little voice, “where are we going to go?” I ruffled his hair, replying, “Back to Gramma’s Place.” The Caldwell estate was long sold; all I had left was Gramma’s old home. Mom had tried many times to bring her to the city, but Gramma had refused to leave her small town, so I’d spent many summers there, keeping her company. “There’s no amusement park there, no skyscrapers. Just birds, flowers, streams, and bridges.” The kids hugged me tightly, cutting off my words. “With Daddy, anywhere’s the best place.” ### Chapter 5 Leigh and I have both been busy lately. She’s preparing for Chase’s return, and I’m planning to leave with the kids. She’s always had the upper hand, so if I want to leave, I need to be prepared. Even though the kids say they don’t want her, I can tell they’re still looking wistfully at her picture the night before we leave. I hesitate before finally calling her. She picks up, her tone as impatient as ever. “What do you want?” “The kids want to see you one last time. Are you going to come back?” I wonder if she’ll return for this final moment together. But then I hear Chase’s voice. “Leigh, if you’re too busy, I’ll just head back to the States. Apparently, I don’t matter much.” Chase’s tone is careless, but Leigh jumps to reassure him. “You matter, Chase. He’s nothing.” Then the line goes dead. It feels pointless, even asking for a farewell. The painting I once gave her still hangs above her bed, and I remember that tear of hers the day she first saw it. I light a match and let the flames consume it. Our marriage started with that painting, and it’ll end with it too. The fire spreads quickly, racing up the walls, devouring the room. With the kids in tow, I walk away, not looking back. Leigh, I’m giving you the freedom you wanted. The fire roars with intensity, burning everything to ash. I take the kids and return to Gramma’s Place, now in a small tourist town where visitors often wander by. After she passed, the house remained unchanged, gathering dust. Wiping it away, I can almost see her handing me a big slice of watermelon, her smile wrinkling at the edges as she teased me for eating like a messy kitten. With the kids, I find peace. Together, we clean up the overgrown yard, working side by side, and I make plans to open a little craft shop selling souvenirs for the tourists. News breaks of the Dawson Estate going up in flames, with reports that Leigh Dawson’s husband and twins are believed to have perished in the fire. But that night, Leigh is in a hotel room with Chase, who laughs and says he’s off to the drugstore to pick up some “essentials” for the night. She knows exactly what he means. ### Chapter 6 After Chase leaves, Leigh places a hand over her chest, surprised at how calm she feels. There’s no thrill, no flutter. So, when Chase comes back and makes his move, she finds herself instinctively pulling away. “Sorry, work emergency—I need to go.” She rushes out, feeling a strange unease she can’t quite understand. That night with Max hadn’t been the alcohol-fueled blur she pretended it was. She’d known exactly who she was with, drawn to him in a way she couldn’t explain. Her regret made it easier to blame him, anyway. Max always took it. When news of the fire reached her, Leigh froze. For just a moment, guilt slipped into her mind, and she wondered if, by coming home that night, things might have turned out differently. But the thought vanished as quickly as it came. She assured herself that it was all a ploy, just another of Max’s pathetic schemes to win her sympathy. “Really, what’s he up to this time?” She couldn’t hide the disdain in her voice. Then her assistant handed her the recovered items from the fire—a blackened wedding ring and two half-charred presents. The ring was all Max had held onto from their marriage, something he’d always kept with him. The kids’ gifts hadn’t even been unwrapped before the fire consumed them. “They believe the fire started in the bedroom. It seems like he locked himself in from the inside. No one could’ve escaped that fire.” Leigh stumbled, gripping the table. “So, you’re saying he chose to stay? That he’d rather die there with the kids than escape?”

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I decided to give up on Beckett. It all started with something trivial. During our research group meeting, Lily brought in some soy milk and buns. Beckett, always protective of the younger girls, covered for her: “Lily’s still young and likes to eat. Let’s cut her some slack.” Everyone teased her, their eyes occasionally darting towards me. Only my roommate, who was close to me, stood up for me: “Beckett, aren’t you being biased? When Zoe had a stomach ache and wanted to eat something, you didn’t allow it!” The room fell silent for a moment. Beckett’s face darkened. “Zoe, what are you up to now? There’s a time and place for your tantrums. No one here is going to indulge you!” “Yeah, she’s just seeking attention,” I heard someone mutter. For some reason, I sighed inwardly. It all felt so pointless. I took off my name tag and looked up at Beckett. “I want to leave the research group.” As soon as I said this, the senior girls tried to calm me down. After all, if you made some achievements in the research group, you had a chance for guaranteed admission to graduate school. “It’s fine. I’ve made up my mind. I’ll go explain the situation to the professor later.” “Are you throwing another tantrum? Do you need everyone to revolve around you? It’s just letting Lily have breakfast, do you have to be so petty?” Beckett’s tone was cold and slightly impatient. I looked at Beckett seriously and explained, “I’m not throwing a tantrum. It’s just…” I pointed at some people. “She, he, she, these people all got in through Lily’s connections. They do the least work and like to gossip. I don’t like this research environment.” It’s quite tiring, playing along with them day after day. As soon as I said this, the people I pointed at all turned pale, lowering their heads guiltily. The other seniors didn’t say anything, but Lily started crying: “What did I ever do to you, senior? Why are you publicly humiliating me like this…” “These are all my classmates. If they don’t get some credits from the research group, they’ll fail their courses. I was just trying to help them, and Beckett agreed.” I nodded. “Mm-hmm, but the research group doesn’t belong to you alone. You’re being kind on your own, so everyone else has to bear the consequences? Is that your robber’s logic?” “Enough! Zoe, don’t you think you’re acting like a lunatic right now? I’m willing to cover for her, what’s it to you?” Beckett’s words felt like a hard slap across my face, making me blush and feel a bit strange. Was he still the Beckett I remembered, the one who always protected me? His next words pushed me into an abyss. “Zoe has a mental illness. She sometimes becomes unstable and has episodes. Lily, don’t take what she says to heart.” Beckett took out a tissue and gently wiped Lily’s tears. “Really? She doesn’t look like it.” Lily glanced at me, full of curiosity and disdain. “It’s true. I even have her diagnosis here.” My heart, which had been lifted high, was now heavily smashed down. In a daze, I remembered how seven-year-old Beckett had chased away the bullies and wiped my tears, telling me he would always stand by my side. Now he was cruelly exposing my wounds, just to comfort another girl.

The application to leave the group was a bit troublesome. The professor said he was busy and wanted me to stay for a while longer. I had no choice but to agree. I just made sure to go when Beckett wasn’t around. But deep down, I was still hoping Beckett would notice something was wrong and come find me. After all, habits formed over so many years aren’t easy to let go of. One day, as I was walking back to the dorm after finishing an experiment, A tall figure was standing in the middle of the path. I turned to take another route, but Beckett caught up with me. “Zoe!” He grabbed my hand. “Why have you been avoiding me lately?” I tried to break free with some force. Beckett directly put his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to turn around. He lowered his head, his gaze soft. “Are you angry with me?” I turned my head, not wanting to deal with him. He laughed a little. “Zoe, are you jealous? I didn’t mean to protect Lily. It’s just that her dad is our biggest investor, and I don’t want to offend her. I can only go along with her a bit. How about this, I’ll let you eat breakfast in the meeting room from now on too?” I finally looked at him directly. “Beckett, it’s not about the breakfast.” He knew that due to certain things, I had a period where I couldn’t sleep for days and nights, leading to some mental instability, but it wasn’t the mental illness he described. Yet he just brought it up as a topic of conversation. Did he ever consider my feelings? His eyes shifted a bit, probably realizing what I was referring to. Then he reached into his pocket and slipped something onto my hand. In the light from the street lamps, I could see clearly. It was a finely crafted silver bracelet. “Zoe, you’ve always envied how other girls’ parents buy them silver bracelets, right? I saved up to buy you one too. But a silver bracelet is too cheap for my Zoe. So I bought a gold one and plated it with silver.” Indeed, people are often imprisoned for life by the things they couldn’t have in their youth. At that moment, when I saw the bracelet, I ultimately softened. From childhood to adulthood, Beckett had always been by my side. He played the roles of friend and older brother, and I had developed some feelings for him that I shouldn’t have. Besides him, I had no one else to rely on. Maybe I should forgive him? Back in the dorm, after thinking for a long time, I finally sent him an emoji. Beckett also sent an emoji back in sync, And sent me a ticket to the swimming pool, asking if I wanted to go swimming tomorrow. The smile on my face froze for a moment. Had he forgotten? Tomorrow was my period.

The next day, I still decided to keep the appointment. I put on some light makeup but didn’t wear a swimsuit. I thought Beckett must have been too busy lately and didn’t pay attention to when my period was. I could just watch him swim from the side. When I arrived at the swimming pool, I found a group of people gathered at the entrance, both men and women, with Lily among them. Seeing me arrive, the group of guys flashed a look of mockery: “How boring, those with bad figures really don’t dare to show off. So this is all the campus beauty amounts to? I still prefer girls who are more open and confident.” I frowned. Lily covered her mouth and laughed lightly, “Can’t be helped, some people are just petty. I don’t know why Beckett even invited her.” Beckett’s face didn’t look too good either, probably feeling a bit embarrassed. “Didn’t I tell you to wear a swimsuit? How are you going to swim in a short-sleeved shirt and long pants?” “I’m on my period.” So he really had forgotten. Beckett’s brow flashed a hint of displeasure. “Why did it have to be today? But swimming during your period should be fine, right?” Seeing that I didn’t say anything, he seemed to realize his words were inappropriate and tugged at the hem of my shirt, pleading: “Come on, Zoe, I’m not a girl, forgive me for not knowing. Please?” Then he suddenly turned around and said, “Last time Zoe publicly embarrassed Lily, so I specially called her out today for Zoe to apologize to you, Lily.” I looked back at him in disbelief. “Why should I?” Why should I apologize? It was Lily who brought in people through connections, how did this become my fault? Beckett pulled me aside and whispered in my ear: “Think of the bigger picture, Zoe. I need this research achievement to get my foot in the door at a renowned company. You don’t want to be poor with me forever, do you?” I keenly caught the key point: “Poor with you forever?” “Yes.” He turned to face me, his expression bland, but if you looked closely, there was a hint of disdain in his eyes: “Zoe, I know you’ve always liked me, and I like you too. If you apologize to Lily now, I’ll agree to be with you. Otherwise, I’ll agree to be with Lily.” As he spoke, for some reason he suddenly became haughty: “After all, we have over a decade of feelings between us, I can’t bear to let you go. As long as you apologize and stay in the research group to help me, I’ll be with you.” I took a few steps back, looking Beckett up and down carefully, and finally shook my head: “You’re really so confident, aren’t you?” “What?” He didn’t quite hear clearly. Habit is a terrifying thing. Beckett and I could be considered childhood sweethearts. From elementary school, middle school, high school, to now in university, we’ve always been in the same school. For so long, I got used to him, relied on him, and fell in love with him. Beckett is a year older than me. Since I was little, I was fostered at my uncle’s house, and Beckett was the next-door neighbor. When I was young, children’s emotions were very obvious. As long as my cousin disliked me, everyone living in that area would isolate me. Only Beckett was different. He always included me, bringing food for me and letting me join in games. You could say that the little warmth in my childhood all came from Beckett. He could indeed manipulate me. I always did whatever he said. But for some reason, starting from that breakfast incident, I really felt so tired of dealing with him. I even thought that if he liked someone else, he should just go ahead, and stop bothering me. During this standoff, the swimming coach came over. “Those of you who are swimming, be careful.” The coach suddenly produced a chair from the side and gave it to me: “I see you’ve been holding your stomach. You must be on your period, right? My daughter is just like you every time she has her period, looking so uncomfortable.” I unconsciously touched my face. Was it that obvious? If even a stranger could notice, how could Beckett not know?

“Alright. Think about it carefully.” With that, Beckett went towards Lily. “Oh right, we’re going out for dinner after swimming. Remember to book the restaurant.” I didn’t move, watching as Beckett took out a bag of water bottles, giving the only uniquely packaged one to Lily. The ones he gave to others were all the same. Lily looked a bit shy, and everyone else teased them. I suddenly remembered that when we were kids playing house, Beckett did the same thing. He bought a bunch of lollipops, giving the only special one to the prettiest girl, asking her to play his wife, while distributing the identical ones to the rest of us. He won our hearts while achieving his goal. Everyone ate their lollipops on the spot, but I kept mine, hiding it away, too precious to eat. Because it was the first time I had gotten a snack that was just for me. Later, when Beckett found out, he bought me a few similar ones, but never gave me that special one again. I couldn’t help but laugh. Even though I knew he was just using the most common way to win people over, I was the one he had won over most successfully, Without any complaints. I was never his special treatment, Just one of the willing victims in his wide net. On the way to dinner, I carried bags for Beckett and his group as usual, walking a bit slower. By the time Beckett reached the private room I had booked, he messaged me saying they had already ordered, While I was still halfway there. Maybe because I had been following behind Beckett since I was little, I was used to him walking in front, with me slowly following behind alone. When I reached the door of the private room, I could hear Lily’s voice from inside, “Beckett, can you really make Zoe apologize to me? She’s known as the ice queen, doesn’t care about anyone.” “Don’t worry. You saw just now, I asked her to carry our bags and she didn’t say anything. Just an apology, what’s the big deal? She’s been following me like a dog since she was little, give her a little treat and she’ll come along. Besides, apart from me, she has no one else she can trust.” A few guys were also flattering him, putting me down. My hand that was about to knock on the door paused. I put down the bags and quietly listened at the door. “Beckett is really something! But Beckett, what kind of love potion did you give Zoe to make her so devoted to you?” “Yeah, yeah! Beckett is so lucky, with Zoe on one side and Lily on the other.” I heard Beckett sneer, “What love potion? She’s just too starved for love. Show her a little kindness and she’ll be willing to die for you. Don’t talk nonsense, I only like Lily. As for Zoe… she’s too eager, a bit cheap.” There was laughter inside. Strangely, I felt nothing in my heart. I even found it a bit boring, as if I had locked myself in a room, quietly waiting for it to crumble and collapse into ruins. Slowly, I finally saw the light of day again. I put down the bags and went to eat a bowl of noodles by myself, then bought some pastries I liked. My whole body felt warm and cozy. Then I took some time to block and delete all of Beckett’s contact information, And found a campus errand runner to return all the gifts Beckett had given me, including that silver bracelet. Actually, that bracelet wasn’t even pure silver, let alone gold. I knew as soon as I put it on. I’m not an idiot, I just used to be willing to play along with Beckett’s act, deceiving myself.

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Our live-in nanny’s daughter has been acting a little strange lately. She keeps giving me these hateful looks—subtle, but definitely there—and blaring her phone in the living room with videos about “switched heiresses.” My brother, Wesley, couldn’t take it anymore and came to complain. “Natalie, do you think Riley Harper has convinced herself that you and she were switched at birth?” “She’s been looking at me with these weird, ‘maternal’ eyes, and honestly, it’s freaking me out.” I laughed. Did she really think our family’s annual health checkups didn’t include DNA testing? Content I’m Natalie Channing, the only daughter of Victor and Elizabeth Channing, owners of Channing Enterprises. Like most heiresses, my parents are often away for work, so they hired a live-in nanny, Margaret Harper, to take care of me and my younger brother, Wesley. Margaret has a daughter around my age, Riley Harper. She’s lived with us since we were kids, eating, sleeping, and growing up under the same roof. But Margaret doesn’t seem to like her own daughter. It’s painfully obvious to everyone in our family—her disdain is written all over her actions. Once, I asked my parents if we should step in and address their mother-daughter relationship. After all, Riley is often ignored or treated harshly, and it’s honestly pretty pitiful. But my parents told me not to meddle in other people’s lives. And when I tried to stand up for Riley, Margaret—who was usually polite to me—coldly shot me down: “That’s our family business.” After that, I let it go. But recently, Riley’s behavior toward me has become strange. And I mean really strange. First, she kept asking Wesley when our parents, who were on a vacation, would return. Then, she started glaring at me with outright contempt. And finally—Wesley’s personal favorite—she took to blaring “switched heiress” videos in the living room for everyone to hear. As Wesley put it, “It’s like her every thought is just written all over her face.” I couldn’t help but laugh. How ridiculous could she get? There’s no way. Even if we’re close in age, her mom treats me better than she treats her own daughter… Wait. Could I actually be the one who was switched at birth? In a panic, I ran to the study and dug through my eighteen years’ worth of health checkups. Thankfully, my parents were wise enough to include DNA testing in every annual exam. Looking at the reports confirming our family ties, I breathed a sigh of relief. Riley must’ve just overdosed on her “switched heiress” fiction. I decided to drop the matter. At least, until dinner the other night when Riley sweetly asked Wesley, “Hey Wes, don’t you think you and I look a little alike?” Wesley, fork mid-air, froze. “Riley, are you out of your mind? What do I have to do with you? My real sister is sitting right here.” Margaret nearly choked on her food. “You ungrateful brat!” Margaret snapped, smacking Riley on the head with her chopsticks. “How dare you? “Mr. and Mrs. Channing aren’t home, and the fact that Natalie and Wesley let us eat with them is a privilege. What makes you think you can speak so recklessly?!” Riley’s eyes filled with tears. “When Mr. and Mrs. Channing come back, you’ll regret this!” she spat before storming off. What had I even done? Margaret turned to us with an apologetic smile. “Miss Natalie, Master Wesley, I’m so sorry. Riley’s been getting more and more out of hand. I’ll make sure to discipline her.” I raised an eyebrow and said pointedly, “Margaret, maybe you should try a different approach. After all, she is your daughter. Shouldn’t you be treating her better?” I emphasized the words “your daughter” just to see if she was aware of Riley’s delusions. But Margaret only laughed lightly. “You’re right, Miss Natalie. People like me from the countryside don’t know much about raising kids. “Back home, girls Riley’s age would’ve already been married off to help their brothers afford a wife. “But here, Mr. Channing even pays for her to go to school. Instead of being grateful, she’s behaving like this…” I didn’t know what to say to that. Margaret clearly didn’t care whether Riley was really her daughter or not. Curious, I asked, “Margaret, why have you always treated me so kindly?” Her face lit up. “Because Mr. and Mrs. Channing have been so good to me. I’ve watched you grow up, and to me, you’re more important than my own daughter.” At that moment, I actually felt a little bad for Riley. “Margaret, maybe you should start paying more attention to Riley,” I said with a smile. “It might save you some trouble in the future.” With that, I left the dining room, ignoring Margaret’s puzzled expression.

My ears were practically blistered from Wesley’s complaints about Riley Harper. Even though I knew Riley had always found excuses to be around him, things had definitely escalated recently. “Natalie, she’s straight-up stealing my laundry to wash it, lingering outside my study after her late-night showers, and hanging around my classroom at school. I let that slide. “But now she’s acting like some kind of doting grandma—always giving me food and staring at me with these unsettling, ‘loving’ eyes. I can’t take it! What is she up to, Nat?” For the millionth time, Wesley poured out his frustrations. I couldn’t take it anymore either. I promised him that the next time I saw Riley, I’d talk to her. My dad, ever the charitable boss, had enrolled Riley in Fairfield Academy—my high school—as a part of his “employee benefits” program. To top it off, he even put her in my class, saying it would help us “look out for each other.” But in reality, I hadn’t seen Riley in days. It felt like she was actively avoiding me. Whenever I was somewhere, she made sure to be anywhere else. Even at school, running into her felt like a game of chance. Today, though, luck was on my side. The moment I stepped into class, there she was—decked out in designer clothes, surrounded by a curious crowd. “Riley, your outfit! And that bag—those must’ve cost a fortune!” “Oh, not really,” Riley replied with a coy smile. “I just saw them while shopping and figured, why not?” “Wow, I always thought you were, like, from a regular family like the rest of us. Turns out you’re some heiress or something?” Riley gave a humble laugh. “What’s an heiress, really? What’s meant to be mine will always be mine. Unlike some people who force their way in and pretend—only to end up empty-handed.” She cast a pointed glance my way. One of my friends leaned closer to me, whispering, “Isn’t Riley your nanny’s kid? Do the Channings pay their staff that well? Or did her mom win the lottery? She looks like some tacky nouveau riche.” “What’s she trying to say? Switched at birth? Her real parents are loaded?” “Natalie, she’s obviously implying you. What’s her deal?” I didn’t know what to say. More importantly, I had no idea where Riley was getting all this money. Only a handful of classmates who’d visited my house knew Riley was the daughter of our live-in nanny. Everyone else had politely gone along with the assumption that she was just another student. Out of respect, no one ever brought up her actual situation. “She seems… a little delusional,” I finally said. That seemed like the most logical explanation. I walked over and called out to her. “Riley, can we talk outside for a moment?” Riley froze, clearly caught off guard. She’d been avoiding me for so long, she probably didn’t expect me to confront her outright. After all, in her “switched heiress” stories, the imposter usually cowered and avoided eye contact with the rightful heiress. The class erupted into hushed murmurs. “What’s Natalie talking to Riley about? They’ve never interacted before.” “Did you hear what Riley just said? Do you think Natalie and Riley were switched at birth?” “Could Riley actually be the real Channing heiress?” “Don’t be ridiculous. No one benefits from upsetting the Channing family.” “But Riley’s been awfully close to Natalie’s brother, hasn’t she? Would actual siblings act that way?” “Maybe Riley really was just brought home recently. Did you see her outfit? Looks like she’s trying way too hard.” Ignoring the chatter, I strode out of the classroom, and Riley—after adjusting her clothes and regaining her composure—followed. I turned to face her. “You know why I’m here, don’t you?” Riley’s expression shifted into one of smug satisfaction. “Since you already know you’ve taken my place, I suggest you come clean to your parents. If you’re lucky, I might even put in a good word for you. Maybe they’ll give you a decent severance package.” My brain momentarily short-circuited. “Riley, what nonsense are you talking about?” She sneered. “Don’t act clueless, Natalie. You’ve known all along that I’m the rightful Channing heiress. You’ve had eighteen years of my life—eighteen years I suffered through for you. Natalie, you owe me, and you’ll never be able to repay it.” “What proof do you have that you’re the Channing daughter?” I asked, my tone sharp. “Proof?” Riley smirked, confidence radiating off her. “Oh, I’ve got proof. When my parents get back from their trip, the truth will come out. And when it does? You’ll be on your knees, begging. But I’ll make sure you and your pathetic mother are kicked out anyway.” I was about to ask where she got the audacity when a sharp voice cut through the tension. “Riley Harper!” Margaret Harper stormed up to us, her face livid. SMACK. The sound of the slap echoed through the corridor.

The commotion drew the entire class out of the room. I stood frozen in shock, watching as Riley clutched her cheek, tears streaming silently down her face. Her lips trembled, but no words came out. Margaret’s face was flushed, her eyes blazing as she grabbed Riley by the hair. “You little ingrate! Did you steal my money? Did you take everything I had on that card?!” “That money was for your brother’s wedding!” Margaret’s voice broke with a sob. “Do you want to ruin this family? How could I have raised something as selfish as you?” The pieces clicked into place. Riley’s flashy new wardrobe? Her sudden spending spree? It all came from Margaret’s savings. I hurried forward to pull them apart. “Margaret, stop! This is a school.” Margaret, seeing the crowd of onlookers, dramatically collapsed onto the floor. “God, what did I do to deserve this? I worked my whole life to save that money, and she’s gone and squandered it all! How am I supposed to go on?” The whispers around us grew louder. “Wait, that’s Riley’s mom? She doesn’t look rich at all.” “Did you hear her? Riley stole her mom’s savings to act rich.” “She always seemed kind of vain, but this? Yikes.” “She only got into this school because someone sponsored her.” “Enough!” Riley’s furious glare landed on me. “This is your fault, Natalie! I’ve already suffered for your sake, and now you’ve got her humiliating me too? Just wait. I’ll make sure you regret this for the rest of your life.” She shoved past us and ran, tears still streaming down her face. “Hey! Watch your mouth when you’re speaking to Miss Natalie!” Margaret yelled after her. Then, as if nothing had happened, she turned to me. “Miss Natalie, are you alright? I’m so sorry about her behavior.” “Wait…” a classmate murmured. “Is she… Natalie’s real mom? She’s treating Natalie better than her own kid.” “No way. She’s the Channings’ nanny, right?” “Still, doesn’t this kind of favoritism make you wonder? Maybe Riley’s the real daughter.” “Or Margaret switched them on purpose.” Before I could react, a calm, familiar voice interrupted the chaos. “Margaret, maybe you should go check on your own daughter.” Everett Hughes stepped forward, his tall figure commanding attention. “Natalie,” he said, his tone softening, “class is starting.” “OMG, OMG, I’m shipping them so hard!” “Even if Natalie isn’t the real Channing heiress, who cares? She’s still going to be Mrs. Hughes. Talk about living the dream!” “Everett Hughes is just so perfect. Honestly, he and Natalie look amazing together.” Everett Hughes is my boyfriend, and that’s no secret. In fact, both of our families fully support us. With similar backgrounds, education, and looks, we’re practically the perfect match. Plus, a partnership between the Channing and Hughes enterprises is nothing short of a power move. Margaret awkwardly let go of me and hurried after Riley, leaving me to my thoughts. I didn’t care much for the gossip surrounding us, but after everything that had happened recently, I couldn’t help but wonder what Everett thought about it all. Back in the classroom, I turned to him. “Everett, if I weren’t the real Channing heiress, would you still like me?” He looked at me like I’d just said the funniest thing he’d ever heard and burst out laughing. “What’s so funny?” I was genuinely curious. “Given everything that’s been going on, there’s a real chance I’m not the Channing family’s biological daughter.” Everett reached over, gently ruffling my hair. His clear, steady gaze locked onto mine. “Whether or not you’re the Channing heiress doesn’t matter to me. What matters is that you’re Natalie. As long as you’re you, that’s enough for me.” That afternoon, Riley Harper returned to school. But instead of toning things down, she showed up in an even more luxurious outfit than before. Her transformation left everyone scratching their heads. She walked straight toward me—no, not me. She stopped in front of Everett. “Everett,” Riley said, her voice laced with a mix of nerves and newfound boldness. “I’m sure you’ve realized it by now—I’m the real Channing heiress.” The classroom collectively gasped, stunned that she would just blurt it out.

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Yo, so get this – I was like three months preggo and totally craving some bomb wonton soup. I got so hyped, I jumped into the kitchen and whipped up this killer broth from scratch. After hours of simmering and stuffing those lil’ dumplings, I was ready to feast. I called my man Noah over, but when I came back, the bowls were gone! That jerk had sent them over to our new neighbor Emma’s place without even asking. Apparently, she’s a single mom struggling to get by, so my knight-in-shining-armor hubby took it upon himself to ‘help out.’ Now, I get being a good neighbor and all, but this chick had Noah running errands for her like a personal handyman. Changing lightbulbs, lugging rice bags – you name it, he was on it. His go-to line became, “Single moms have it rough, babe.” At first, I played it cool, but giving away my homemade pregnancy cravings? That was the last straw. When I called him out, dude just shrugged it off like it was no big deal. The audacity to tell me to ask Emma for “dumpling folding tips” after I slaved away cooking? Oh hell naw. I was so heated, I just packed my bags and crashed at my old place for a bit. Noah didn’t even seem to notice I bounced until way later when his growling stomach finally clued him in. Dude had the nerve to whine about being hungry after pulling that stunt! Things got real when I found a video from the local preschool’s family sports day. There was my man, bonding with Emma and her kid like one big happy fam while I sat at my checkup alone. Turned out his “overtime” excuse was just a flat-out lie. I started questioning if Noah was even cut out for fatherhood. If some rando single mom could make him ditch me and our unborn kid, who’s to say he wouldn’t keep bailing for the next one who batted her lashes? When I finally confronted him about the video, Emma pulled the classic crocodile tears, blabbering about how she’d “never wreck our family.” Her little brat was even shooting me stank eyes like I was the homewrecker! The sheer audacity of it all made me want to hurl. I laid it all out – if Noah was still a man of his word, we needed to go our separate ways so he could play house with his new fam. Dude tried damage control, saying I was overreacting and that he was just “helping out” since the kid didn’t have a dad around. Like, sorry my inability to push a kid out makes me incapable of basic empathy? I didn’t sign up to be a co-parent for every sad sack kiddo in town. Noah couldn’t understand why I was being “so cold and unsympathetic.” Um, hello? I’m the pregnant one getting left in the dust here! We went round and round until he finally admitted he couldn’t stand to see Emma’s son “go through the same hardship” he did without a dad. Look, I feel for the guy’s rough upbringing, but that’s no excuse to lie and ditch your own family. If he wants to go play daddy for Emma’s kid, that’s his choice – but it won’t be with me in the picture. I headed back to my little downtown apartment, totally drained from the emotional rollercoaster. Maybe it was the stress, but that night my stomach felt queasy. I’m pretty health-conscious, so I swung by the clinic for a checkup. The doc said the pregnancy wasn’t looking too stable and advised me to take it easy – no heavy lifting or I could miscarry. I went home and lay awake, mulling over the past, present and future. I had a decent job, savings, wheels – all the basics to live comfortably, even solo. Why put up with this crap? Especially over a loser like Noah Williams. After some soul-searching, I decided to terminate the pregnancy the next morning. The fetus was only a few months along, so it was a straightforward procedure, but still tough – it was my flesh and blood, you know? I just didn’t feel ready to be a single mom. The abortion knocked me around, so I crashed at my place while getting the divorce papers drafted up. With no kids involved, it was a pretty clean split – one car each, and we’d go fifty-fifty on the home we bought as newlyweds. I couriered Noah’s copy, but he flipped out, probably thinking I was bluffing about pulling the plug on our marriage. He demanded to meet up, but I shut that down – just sign the damn papers, bro. Noah didn’t know my unit number, and that complex has strict privacy policies, so staff weren’t letting any randos snoop around. There was no point meeting anyway since divorce was a done deal. A few days later, Noah’s mom calls me frantic – some sketchbag was posted up at our place! Instantly, I knew it was Emma Johnson, that little homewrecker he couldn’t keep his hands off. I felt disgusted hearing it, but not shocked – those two were gonna hook up eventually. Still, the disrespect of moving her in before we were even legally divorced? Low blow. I didn’t respond at first, but Noah’s mom kept pushing, realizing something was up. “Is Noah running around on you? Bringing other women over?” We hadn’t told our families about separating yet. I didn’t want to worry my parents, and Noah was the same – his mom has a wicked temper and health issues, so he didn’t want to drop that bomb on her. But now the poor woman stumbled into this mess. Emma tried playing it cool, all “It’s just a big misunderstanding, Auntie! Noah’s such a sweetheart for helping me out. With sis-in-law gone, he needed an extra hand around the house sometimes.” Noah’s mom was having none of it. “My son’s a grown man! If he can’t look after himself, I failed as a mother!” She kicked Emma out, then I broke down and explained everything – the affair, the decision to divorce, even my abortion. Noah’s mom erupted, slapping him hard across the face. “Neglecting your own wife and child to play daddy to some other kid? Have you lost your damn mind?”

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As I prepared a surprise for our five-year anniversary, I received a notification about Allison “Allie” Harper, my wife, booking a hotel room with her “little brother,” Mason Carter. When I called, I heard Mason laughing, “See, sis? I told you Zach would take the bait!” “Mason, do you think this is something to joke about?” Before I could finish, Allie cut me off with sharp words. “Why are you making a big deal out of nothing? He’s just a kid! Stop overreacting. I’m not coming home tonight.” After hanging up, I saw Mason post a photo of Allie’s wedding ring on Instagram Stories with the caption: “Brothers, check this out! The rich sis got me this ring, said it’s worth 15k. Anyone know if it’s real?” …… Content I waited for Allie until midnight. As the last minute of our five-year anniversary slipped away, she still hadn’t come home. That night, I told myself it would be her last chance—and mine. The table was set with a spread of dishes, now cold and unappetizing. My bad stomach warned me against eating, knowing cold food might cause another bout of internal bleeding. I dumped the food into the trash. The mess of colors reminded me of the hollow space where my heart used to be. I gathered some essentials and left the house to Allie. She came back as I packed the last of my documents. Drunk and disheveled, she collapsed onto the floor, laughing at me with smeared lipstick and fresh red marks on her neck. I felt my stomach churn in revulsion. She staggered forward and grabbed the trash can, vomiting loudly. The sound clawed at my already fragile gut. Her empty ring finger caught my attention, the faint indent from the missing wedding band a painful reminder. She wiped her mouth and stumbled toward me, her eyes full of feigned innocence. “I don’t feel well, Zach. Help me shower.” She began pulling at her clothes, revealing fresh bite marks just above her collarbone, each one stabbing at my soul. The disgust inside me boiled over. I’ve always struggled with loneliness. Sleeping alone meant enduring nightmares. Allie knew this, which is why she used to come home every night—until Mason showed up. His arrival brought endless arguments, and Allie started staying out as punishment. Night after night, the fear of the dark faded. For the first time in years, I slept soundly, alone in the guest room. The next morning, Allie woke me up, scowling. “Why are you still in bed? Did you make breakfast yet?” Groggy, I stared at her, silent. She crossed her arms. “Zach, you know I have work this morning. What if I skip breakfast and end up with stomach issues?” Her entitlement made me laugh bitterly. Even after pulling all-nighters at the firm, I used to wake up early to cook for her. But why was I the only one expected to do everything? I sat up, meeting her gaze with a calmness I didn’t feel. “Allie, let’s get a divorce.”

She froze for a second, then scowled, her face full of disdain. “What kind of nonsense is this? Did you wake up in a bad mood?” My eyes drifted to her bare ring finger. “You’ve stopped wearing your wedding band. It’s time we put an end to this sham of a marriage.” “What the hell are you talking about? I’m too busy for your drama!” she snapped, her voice growing louder as if to mask her guilt. “I lost the ring playing truth or dare last night. It’s just a stupid ring, Zach. It’s not like it was important!” She slammed the bedroom door behind her, leaving me to stare at her retreating figure. “Not important?” I let out a bitter laugh. When we got married, I wasn’t rich, but she had her heart set on that $15,000 ring. To buy it, I pulled two consecutive all-nighters, won a tough legal case, and celebrated with the client—drinking until I landed in the hospital with a bleeding stomach. But I’d saved enough for the ring. She cried when I gave it to her, telling me how lucky she was to have me. Now $15,000 meant nothing—not the money, not the memories, and certainly not our love. My stomach churned. I leaned against the wall, pressing a hand to my gut. The room spun as bile rose in my throat. “Allie,” I gasped, “could you call a cab?” She paused, finally noticing my condition. For a fleeting moment, she looked like a concerned wife. “What’s wrong? I’ll grab my keys and drive you to the hospital.” I collapsed onto the floor as she went to the bedroom. Minutes ticked by. When she returned, she didn’t have the keys. “Mason’s in trouble at school. He’s just a kid—he doesn’t know how to handle this stuff. I need to go. You should rest up, okay?” With that, she left. Pain spread through my body. I clenched my fists, trying to stay conscious, but my strength waned. When Allie’s heels clicked down the hallway and the door slammed shut, I vomited blood and blacked out. The housekeeper arrived at 10 a.m., called 911, and saved me. When I woke up in St. Luke’s General Hospital, my phone buzzed with a notification. Mason had posted on Instagram again: “Daisy wasn’t eating this morning. Thankfully, my sis came to get me, and we took her to Paws & Claws Animal Clinic.” My chest tightened, an ache I couldn’t name. I exhaled deeply, forcing the pain away. “It’s over,” I told myself. Dr. Ryan Blake entered the room, frowning. “Zach, how many times have I told you? No amount of work is worth killing yourself over. Do you even need the money? Why do you keep pushing yourself like this?” His frustration made me smile faintly. Ryan was a longtime friend, and his anger came from a place of care. “Got it,” I said, patting his shoulder. “From now on, I’ll take better care of myself. Trust me.” He grumbled but didn’t argue further, heading to the next room. Two days later, I was discharged. When I got home, Allie was waiting in the living room. “I heard you were coming back today, so I made a special dinner for us,” she said, uncorking a bottle of wine with a practiced smile. “All better now, right? No need to run to the hospital anymore. Let’s celebrate properly this time. Happy belated anniversary.” The table was set with rich, greasy, and spicy dishes—everything my fragile stomach couldn’t handle. “I can’t drink,” I said flatly, walking toward the guest room. The sound of the wine bottle smashing against the floor stopped me in my tracks. “Zach Preston!” she yelled, her voice trembling with rage. “Don’t you dare walk away from me! I’ve tried so hard to make things right, and you just turn your back on me?!” Her tone softened as she continued, “Why are you so angry? He’s just my little brother. Mason’s family. Why can’t you understand that?” Her voice cracked as she whispered, “And his sister—Clara…” Tears welled in her eyes at the mention of Clara Carter, her late best friend.

Mason Carter’s sister, Clara Carter, had been Allison “Allie” Harper’s closest friend. Four years ago, Clara was tragically killed in what Mason described as a crime of passion. Allie never got the full story, but Mason himself told her about it. That’s when Allie first learned Clara even had a younger brother. Watching Mason cry over his sister’s death, Allie made a promise: “From now on, I’ll be your big sister.” The first time I met Mason, he was already 19 years old, casually linking arms with Allie like they were dating. I knew right away this wasn’t an ordinary kid. Allie spoiled him relentlessly—handing over money, taking him on trips, indulging his every whim. Their relationship progressed unnervingly fast. The first real alarm came when I discovered Mason hoarding Allie’s underwear. I confronted her immediately. Her response? “He just misses Clara. That piece was barely worn—it’s not a big deal.” “He’s an insecure kid. Can’t I comfort him a little?” That argument marked our first major fight. Allie dismissed my concerns as jealousy and irrationality. It became a pattern. Every time I questioned their overly familiar behavior, Allie threw Clara’s name in my face: “Do you want me to forget about Clara? You want me to be an ungrateful monster?” It was laughable, really. She used a dead woman’s name to justify what was obviously crossing every boundary of a platonic relationship. Still, I convinced myself things would get better once Mason graduated and moved out of the city. That hope carried me through argument after argument. But now Mason was nearing graduation, and I wasn’t sure I could wait any longer.

Allie eventually calmed down, wiping her tears and handing me a wine glass. “Zach, I already apologized. Just drink this and let it go, okay?” “When Mason graduates, I’ll stop helping him so much. Will that finally make you happy?” “Can’t you wait one more month?” “No.” My voice was low, drained of energy. The physical pain in my gut left little room for emotions toward Allie. Her demeanor shifted. She stood up abruptly, her expression twisting with anger. “Zach Preston, do you think you’re in any position to turn me down? You’re nothing. Nothing!” “I’m trying to make peace, and you’re acting like this? You’ll drink that wine whether you like it or not!” Before I could resist, she forced my mouth open and poured the wine down my throat. My stomach twisted violently, and cold sweat broke out on my forehead. “All Mason has is me! He’s alone in this city—what’s so wrong with me being there for him?” “Am I not allowed to have friends anymore? We’re just siblings. There’s nothing inappropriate going on!” “You see filth everywhere because you’re filthy yourself!” Her words blurred as the pain in my gut intensified. A violent coughing fit wracked my body, and then the blood came up, staining the pristine white floor. “Stop pretending!” Allie barked, her tone irritated. “You’re always pulling this crap. Coughing up blood—what a joke!” Her indifference sliced through me like a knife. Even as I lay there bleeding, she refused to believe I was genuinely ill. She nudged me with her foot. When I didn’t respond, a flicker of panic crossed her face. “Hey… are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?” I wanted to tell her we needed a divorce, but I couldn’t muster the strength to speak. Using the wall for support, I dragged myself to the guest room and collapsed onto the bed. I had hoped for some peace, but Allie followed me with uncharacteristic persistence. She brought a glass of warm water and gently wiped the blood from my lips. I turned away in disdain, but she didn’t stop. Her tenderness reminded me of the woman I’d first met years ago. It was my first day in a new city. Standing at the university gates, I was nervous and unsure of myself. Then, a cheerful voice broke through my thoughts: “Hi there! Are you a new student too?” That was how Allie and I met. She pursued me with an intensity that overwhelmed my shy, reserved nature. Before long, I found myself falling for her. Later, I discovered that her pursuit of me had been part of a dare with her friends. But by then, it was too late—I was already in love. Terrified of losing her, I pretended not to know the truth. Even if her feelings weren’t strong, I clung to what little love she gave me, desperate to hold onto it. After graduation, she chose me—a man with nothing but a fledgling law firm. I reached out, my fingers lightly brushing her hair. Allie smiled, her eyes sparkling with a familiarity that once brought me comfort. “Are you still mad at me, honey?” she asked, her tone soft and playful. She was calling me “honey” like we were in some kind of dream. “Zach,” she said, her voice coaxing, “Mason’s graduating soon. Can’t you give him a job at your firm?”

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On the eve of the National Piano Championship, I accidentally burned my right hand and lost my shot at the title. When Damian Rhodes heard about it, he rushed back from out of town overnight. Everyone said he was hopelessly in love with me. Only I knew the truth. Damian had orchestrated my injury to make Delilah Monroe, his old flame, happy. At Willowbrook Medical Center, Damian barely glanced at my scarred hand. With a dismissive tone, he said, “Does it really hurt that much? Stop pretending.” “I only told them to spill half a cup of water.” Listening to his indifferent words, I didn’t argue. Instead, I silently began to plan my escape—an escape set for one month later, on our wedding day. Content In the stillness of the hospital room, Damian repeatedly checked his phone. His eyes flicked toward the screen every few seconds, as if waiting for someone’s message. The IV line started to backflow, yet he remained utterly distracted. Unable to hold back, I finally said, “Damian, the IV is empty.” He responded with a casual grunt, not even sparing me a glance. A notification sound interrupted the silence. A small smile spread across his face, softening even his normally cold eyes. His fingers moved quickly across the screen, typing. I turned my head away, unwilling to watch. There was no need to guess—he was texting Delilah. Only she could bring out this side of him. “Oh, by the way, when your IV finishes, just head home on your own.” He didn’t look up, issuing the instruction without care. I turned to the window. Outside, it was drizzling, but the wind was strong. At that moment, a new post from Delilah popped up on Instagram Stories. It was a screenshot of a hefty bank transfer. “Thanks for the $52,000, Damian~” A wave of realization hit me. I remembered last Valentine’s Day when I begged Damian for a $143 gift. It had taken endless coaxing before he reluctantly agreed, all while sneering, “Sabrina, when did you become so materialistic?” “Why make such a fuss over something as trivial as Valentine’s Day?” Yet for Delilah, he’d transferred $52,000 without blinking an eye. I curled my fingers into my palm, as if that could ease the ache in my heart. Just then, Delilah walked in, holding a bouquet of flowers. The moment Damian saw her, he shot to his feet, unable to hide his excitement. He rushed over and took the flowers from her hands. Delilah revealed a trophy she’d been hiding behind her back. “I’m the champion!” she announced proudly. Damian looked even happier than she did and hugged her right in front of me. Watching this scene unfold, I couldn’t help but feel the bitter sting of irony. In the preliminary rounds, I had been the clear frontrunner, leaving Delilah far behind in second place. Even the judges had congratulated me early. “Miss Hale, there’s no competition. The title is yours.” Everyone was convinced I’d win. But then Delilah cried to Damian. With teary eyes and a trembling voice, she clung to his sleeve. She didn’t even have to say a word. Damian couldn’t stand to see her upset.

He’d felt so sorry for her that he arranged for someone to burn my hand. God knows how much it hurt when I called the event staff to withdraw from the competition. “Miss Hale, are you withdrawing voluntarily?” the staff member asked, incredulous. Tears streamed down my face, each one heavy with pain and resentment. “Yes, I’m withdrawing voluntarily,” I forced myself to say. I averted my gaze from the trophy that should have been mine. I could lose to anyone but Delilah Monroe. Damian still didn’t know that Delilah was the reason my father had died. Ten years ago, my father had jumped into Whispering Lake to save her from drowning. Ignoring everyone’s protests, he dove in without hesitation and brought her to safety. But once onshore, Delilah didn’t thank him. Instead, she accused him, shouting, “He touched me underwater! He’s a creep!” “He’s crazy!” As a schoolteacher, my father couldn’t bear the humiliation. Amid the public outrage, he chose to end his own life. After Damian and Delilah finished their cozy celebration, she finally noticed me. With a smile, she extended her trophy toward me. “Sabrina, don’t be too upset,” she said sweetly. “Not everyone can win, you know.” “You touched the trophy; that’s almost the same as being the champion.” Her condescending kindness only fueled the fire in me. I couldn’t suppress a cold laugh. “Must be nice to feel so justified about something you stole.” My words wiped the smugness from her face. Damian’s expression darkened, and he immediately shielded Delilah behind him. Delilah’s eyes brimmed with tears, the kind that clung to the edge but didn’t fall—just enough to look pitiful. “Sabrina, has the IV gone to your head?” Damian snapped. “Delilah came to comfort you, not to be your punching bag.” Delilah tugged at his sleeve, pretending to defend me. “Don’t say that. Sabrina’s hand injury…” But Damian cut her off. “No need to make excuses for her.” He cast a scornful glance at me. “No talent is no talent.” “Just because you’ve won a few awards doesn’t mean you’re better than Delilah.”

Damian’s cutting words left me momentarily stunned. When we had first started dating, Damian wasn’t the wealthy, arrogant man he was now. Back then, he noticed my love for piano and spent all his savings to buy me a piano. I’ll never forget that day. Damian stood in our cramped apartment with that piano awkwardly taking up most of the space. His hands, rough and red from endless part-time jobs, were tucked behind his back as he said, “Congratulations, Sabrina Hale, on earning your very first piano.” I cried so hard that I couldn’t form a complete sentence. “But I… I’m not even talented enough for this.” Damian gently hugged me and whispered in my ear, “No, Sabrina. In my heart, you’re the greatest pianist there ever was.” It was because of Damian’s encouragement, again and again, that I didn’t give up on my dream. But people change. The Damian who stood before me at thirty-one was nothing like the Damian at twenty-two. He no longer gave me unconditional support or held me as his priority. As he stormed out of the hospital room, he slammed the door so hard it echoed in the hallway. His parting shot stung: “Sabrina, this is your last warning. If you upset Delilah one more time, I swear I’m canceling the wedding next month!” Damian loved to use the wedding as a weapon. He always believed I couldn’t live without him. Maybe he was right in the past. But now, I opened my phone and booked a flight to Cambridge, England. The date? The exact day I was supposed to marry Damian Rhodes.

When the IV was finished, it was already 4 a.m. My phone was out of battery, I had no choice but to walk home alone. At dawn, I finally opened the door to our house. There was Damian, wearing an apron in the kitchen, cooking. The house, normally so cold, was filled with a faint warmth. He glanced up at me, and his expression faltered briefly when he saw my wet hair and rumpled clothes. For a moment, guilt flickered in his eyes. He rubbed his temples as if trying to ease a headache and walked toward me. “Leaving you behind was wrong. I’ve ordered takeout. You should eat something,” he said, his tone unusually soft, as if trying to break the ice. I looked at the takeout containers on the table and felt no appetite at all. One box contained a simple fried egg. After all these years, Damian still hadn’t remembered that I’m allergic to eggs. My gaze wandered to the counter, where several carefully packed lunchboxes were sitting—vegetables, meat, and even freshly sliced fruit. A pot of simmering rib stew sat on the stove. Damian noticed my attention and awkwardly shifted his body to block my view. “She’s been practicing piano a lot,” he said, clearly referring to Delilah. “I can’t just ignore her, you know.” As he spoke, he shrugged, as if he were truly helpless. In the past, I would have argued. But now, a quiet sense of exhaustion spread through me. A year ago, Damian had lost his wallet while on a business trip out of state. Delilah had been the one to help him. Ever since then, he’d constantly said, “If it weren’t for Delilah, I don’t know what I’d do.” No matter how big or small her problems were, Damian would always rush to her side without hesitation. Whenever I voiced my dissatisfaction, Damian would snap at me impatiently. “Sabrina, Delilah isn’t just anyone. I see her as my little sister.” The thought of it made me feel an overwhelming bitterness. I brushed past him and said flatly, “She should take care of herself better, then.” Damian looked surprised, as if he couldn’t recognize me anymore. But he didn’t press me. Instead, he pulled a small, elegant jewelry box from his pocket. I recognized it immediately. It was the diamond necklace I’d asked for months ago. Despite mentioning it more than once, Damian had never bought it for me. But now, he was suddenly offering it to me.

As Damian opened the box, the diamond necklace shimmered, just as beautiful as it had been in the store window. But I couldn’t bring myself to feel happy. I’d seen an identical necklace around Delilah’s neck before. I still remembered her smug expression. “This necklace?” she’d said, practically gloating. “I just casually mentioned it to Damian, and the next day it was mine.” The thing I had longed for, Delilah had gotten with little effort. A wave of nausea washed over me, and I pushed Damian away, heading for the bedroom. My dismissal enraged him. With a sharp snap, he closed the box, his face dark with anger. “Sabrina, what’s your problem?” “You won’t eat the food in front of you, and now you won’t even look at the necklace I bought you?” “Are you still mad about that incident?” We both knew exactly what “incident” he was referring to. Seeing my indifferent expression only made him angrier. His chest heaved as if he were about to explode. He grabbed a nearby photo frame and hurled it to the floor. The glass shattered into countless pieces. “Sabrina, you’re completely out of control now!” I didn’t respond. My eyes lingered on the broken photo. It was our first picture together. I’d been so proud of it that I’d framed it myself. I still remembered what Damian had said back then. “Sabrina, I’ll never stop loving you.” “So don’t even think about leaving me. We’ll always be together.” I had been so naïve, so quick to believe him. I’d teased him, laughing, “What if you’re the one who changes?” Damian had thought about it seriously before replying with conviction: “Then never forgive me. No matter how much I beg, promise me you won’t.” “Don’t ever come back to me, Sabrina.” The face of the boy Damian had been and the man he had become blurred together in my mind. My nose tingled, and I fought the urge to pick up the shattered frame.

In the end, Damian and I parted with yet another fight unresolved. The reason the argument ended wasn’t because we came to an understanding, but because it was time for him to deliver a meal to Delilah. After Damian slammed the door and stormed out, silence filled the room again. I turned to look at the old piano standing in the corner. Without a moment of hesitation, I grabbed a hammer and swung it down. When the piano was reduced to a heap of splintered wood and broken strings, I called the city disposal service. The worker who arrived was shocked. “Are you sure you want to get rid of this?” I nodded without emotion. “It’s just a pile of meaningless junk.” The next couple of weeks dragged on. The wedding date grew closer, but Damian didn’t even bother coming home. The man who used to complain constantly about being overworked somehow found the time to travel the world with Delilah. I knew all of this from her Instagram Stories. During that time, she posted frequently, mostly pictures of her and Damian together. I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly when I saw his smiling face in those photos. It had been so long since I’d seen Damian smile. Around me, his face was always cold, void of any warmth or kindness. Some friends who heard about the situation couldn’t resist asking: “What’s going on between Damian and that woman?” I paused for a moment before replying calmly, “They’re just friends.” “Are you still getting married?” I smiled. “Of course. Make sure you come to the wedding.” My nonchalant tone convinced everyone that I was deeply in love with Damian—so much so that I was willing to marry him despite knowing about his betrayal.

Three days before the wedding, Damian finally came back. He brought with him a mountain of gifts, filling nearly every corner of the house. He ruffled my hair with a pleased expression and said, “If only you were always this obedient.” I forced myself not to recoil from his touch. That hand—so many times it had held Delilah’s. I found it repulsive. Damian handed me a card and said in a condescending tone, “Pick out the wedding ring yourself.” “Delilah is busy preparing for an important competition, and I need to be there for her.” Afraid I might throw a tantrum, Damian added a warning: “This competition is very important to her. Don’t cause any trouble.” To his surprise, I simply nodded. Damian didn’t notice anything unusual. He assumed I had finally learned my place, and his mood visibly improved as he left the house. For the next three days, Damian spent all his time with Delilah without a care in the world. On the wedding day, as the makeup artist gave me the final touches, I listened closely to the officiant’s voice from the hall. “Let’s welcome the bride…” Before the next words could be spoken, an urgent ringtone broke the ceremony’s rhythm. In front of everyone, Damian answered the call, looking visibly flustered. Delilah’s tearful voice came through the speakerphone, loud enough for the entire room to hear: “Damian, the goldfish you bought me isn’t moving! Is it dying?” The audience murmured in disbelief, but Damian hesitated only for a moment before raising his hand decisively. “Sorry, the wedding is postponed. We’ll resume in thirty minutes.” The room erupted into chaos, but Damian didn’t care. He left without looking back. This time, neither did I. I ripped off my veil, stepped out of the wedding dress, and walked out under the shocked stares of everyone. I hailed a cab and left.

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A month after getting married, my husband suddenly proposed to bring his father, who had been paralyzed for years, to live with us. He said that now that we’re married, we should be filial to our parents. He also promised earnestly that it wouldn’t trouble me, saying his mother would take care of his father most of the time, and he’d hire a caregiver once his father moved in. I felt something was off. Kind-hearted netizens warned me: “Run quickly, you’re going to be the free caregiver.” I thought about it and decided to take their advice. Strangers might not harm me, but my husband just might. “Dahlia, I was thinking of having my dad come stay with us for a while. What do you think?” Kieran asked after dinner one evening. “Sure, how long will they be staying? I’ll buy some of their favorite foods,” I replied absently while clearing the table. Kieran quickly jumped in to help clean up. “Actually, I meant for Mom and Dad to live with us permanently. Mom could even help with the cooking. Wouldn’t that be great?” I froze. My naturally indecisive personality made even small decisions like grocery shopping a struggle. That’s why before our marriage, my parents had repeatedly confirmed with Kieran’s family that his parents wouldn’t live with us. It was the only way they agreed to the marriage. My dad had initially wanted me to marry someone who would move in with us, but seeing how good Kieran seemed, they didn’t push it, fearing it might affect our relationship. Before the wedding, my family knew that Kieran’s father had suffered a stroke and was partially paralyzed. His mother ran a small convenience store while caring for her husband. They had agreed that their older son would be responsible for their care in old age, and the family home would go to him as well. We had no objections to this arrangement. My parents even said I’d found a good family. My parents had contributed 100,000 towards our dow pay mounment on a house..Kieran was incredibly touched and volunteered the 30,000 he’d saved from work for renovations. This made my parents even more convinced that I’d found an exceptionally good man. They sent numerous health supplements to Kieran’s parents, and I saw the bill – it was jaw-dropping. My parents didn’t want me to tell Kieran the cost, worried it might make his family feel indebted. Kieran was indeed very good to me. He’d pick me up and drop me off for my night shifts, never complaining that my job kept me from being a traditional housewife. When I was busy at work, he’d cook and bring me meals. Whenever I needed advice on anything, no matter how trivial, he was always patient and helpful. I truly believed I had found the best man in the world. But now, just a month into our marriage, why was he suddenly talking about his parents moving in? “Didn’t we agree before the wedding that we wouldn’t live together?” I asked. “Well, it’s getting cold, and their place doesn’t have good heating. It would be more comfortable here,” he explained. “Besides, now that I’m married, I should take care of my parents.” “Dahlia, you’re so understanding. You wouldn’t object to this small request, would you?” Seeing my silence, Kieran added, “He’s my father. It’s my responsibility as a son. I can’t just ignore him!” “My brother has been taking care of them for years. It’s my turn to show some filial piety.” I remained quiet, feeling uneasy but unable to articulate why. I was about to call my mom for advice but remembered they were on vacation. Not wanting to spoil their trip, I put down the phone. Conflicted, I retreated to the bedroom and posted about the situation online. Responses came quickly: “Don’t agree to it! If you give in now, there will be countless more compromises waiting for you.” “Next, he’ll try to guilt-trip you.” Sure enough. I told Kieran I didn’t agree but offered to pay for better heating at his parents’ place. Kieran immediately became angry. “I’ve already spent tens of thousands on renovating our place, and you won’t even agree to this small request? How can you be so cold-hearted!” “My parents are getting older. Is it too much to ask for them to stay with their son for a while?” “But you promised before we got married that we wouldn’t live with your parents. It’s only been a month, and you’re already going back on your word,” I said, tears welling up in my eyes. Kieran, seeing me cry, paused for a moment before trying to comfort me: “I just heard from Mom that Dad caught a cold, and I got worried. I didn’t mean to yell at you.” “Baby, how about I buy you that lipstick you wanted? Please don’t be angry.” After countless apologies and cooking a table full of my favorite dishes, I finally calmed down. Maybe he was just overly concerned about his dad being sick? I thought the matter was settled, but that night Kieran said, “My parents are eager for a grandchild. Why don’t we start trying soon?” Puzzled, I replied, “Didn’t we agree to wait a couple of years? I still need to prepare for my certification exam.” “That won’t be a problem. My mom can come over to take care of you,” he said. Feeling something was off, I posted about this new development in the same online thread. A comment quickly caught my attention: “Girl, run! Once you have a kid, they’ll have you trapped completely.” “When his mom comes, his dad will follow since there’s no one to care for him.” “And with a baby, you’ll be stuck.” I broke out in a cold sweat. They were right! Using the excuse of caring for a pregnant woman, they could move in permanently, leaving me no way to object. I just wanted a peaceful life. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my days entangled in these petty conflicts. I lacked the ability to handle such situations, so it was safer to nip it in the bud. Realizing this, I firmly rejected his suggestion. Although he might not have had these intentions, what if he did? I may be indecisive, but I’m not stupid. I can tell when someone’s reasoning makes sense. Besides, we had just had an argument. Seeing my displeasure, Kieran didn’t push the issue. Instead, he became even more attentive. He cooked for me after work, brought back gifts from business trips, and took me to try new restaurants. One day, as we were eating steak at a new place, Kieran suddenly started crying. He said his parents had lived in their hometown all their lives, scrimping and saving, never even tasting steak. The thought made him feel guilty. He then recounted how his parents had struggled to put him through school, and now that he wanted to repay them, his father was paralyzed. Just then, Kieran’s uncle sent a voice message: “Your dad’s been crying, missing you. If you’re not busy, bring him over for a visit. He’s already miserable enough being paralyzed. How can you not care about the man who raised you?” “You used to be such a filial son. Have you changed since getting married? Is it your wife who won’t let you? Don’t forget your parents just because you’re married!” Kieran replied, “No, that’s not it. Dahlia’s been urging me to bring my parents over. I’ve just been too busy lately to arrange it.” Kieran took the blame on himself, but I still felt uncomfortable. He tried to reassure me: “Don’t worry, I won’t let them say anything bad about you. I love you, and I’ll handle this. You just focus on being happy.” Was I the one with the problem? Once again, I doubted myself. Maybe he really just wanted his dad to visit for a while?

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I sat at the table, watching the food grow cold, much like my heart. Today was my birthday, but it was also the birthday of Remy, Xena’s childhood friend. I opened Remy’s Instagram and saw a new post. “Grateful to have you by my side every birthday. Let’s keep celebrating together for years to come!” The photo showed two hands making a heart shape in front of a cake. One of them was Xena’s, wearing the necklace I had given her. I liked the post, then put down my phone and dumped all of Xena’s favorite dishes I had prepared into the trash. I went out to a restaurant to order my own favorites and celebrate my birthday alone. From now on, I would make each of my birthdays special – for myself. Halfway through my meal, Xena called. Her voice held a hint of anxiety: “Ezra, did you see Remy’s Instagram post?” “I did.” “I’ll be back after celebrating with him. I’ll spend next year’s birthday with you, okay? Don’t be upset!” In the past, I would have thrown a fit, but not anymore. I simply replied, “Okay.” The next morning, around 7 AM, I was woken up by my phone ringing. It rang three times before cutting off. I checked – it was Xena. She used to be too lazy to use her key, so she’d always call me to let her in, ringing three times before hanging up. No matter what I was doing, I would rush to open the door for her. Today, I didn’t. I tossed my phone aside and went back to sleep. The spare key was under the shoe rack by the door. She knew that. I had been up until 3 AM packing, and my head was still fuzzy. My phone rang a few more times, but I couldn’t be bothered to look. Some time later, I vaguely heard someone unlocking the door and coming in. The door slammed against the wall loudly, followed by my bedroom door being flung open and Xena’s angry voice. “Ezra, why didn’t you open the door for me? I called several times! You know I hate using keys!” I opened my eyes and looked at her impassively. “Too tired. Didn’t hear it.” Xena opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, she said, “I’m hungry. Get up and make me a sandwich. I didn’t sleep all night, and I need to catch up on some rest after I eat.” In the past, I would have jumped up to make her breakfast. But now, I just said flatly, “I’m tired too. Why don’t you go downstairs and buy something?” Xena was furious but tried to control herself. “Are you still mad about me not being here for your birthday yesterday?” “No, you’re overthinking it.” Xena didn’t believe me. She continued, “Remy is like a brother to me. His parents passed away when he was young. If I don’t celebrate his birthday with him, who will? Don’t be so petty, or I’ll really get angry!” “You’re right. You should celebrate with him. I’m not upset.” I got up to go to the bathroom. Xena grabbed my hand and reluctantly pulled out a red string bracelet from her pocket. “Here, don’t be mad. This is your birthday gift. See? I remembered.” Looking at the cheap red string with its dangling metal charm, which seemed so carelessly chosen, and thinking of the expensive watch Remy had shown off on Instagram, I couldn’t help but smile bitterly. I had thought Xena’s recent frugality was to save up for my birthday gift. Apparently, I had been deluding myself. I shook my wrist, showing the watch my mom had sent me a few days ago. “Thanks, but I already have a watch. It’s not convenient to wear this. You keep it.” Xena snapped, “You say you’re not angry, but you used to be happy with whatever I gave you. Are you getting picky now?” Xena’s salary wasn’t high. Her birthday gifts to me were always cheap, costing a few dollars or tens of dollars at most. Sometimes she even forgot to give me anything. But I never minded. For her birthdays, I always prepared thoughtful gifts. Just a week ago, for her birthday, I had given her a gold necklace. I was tired. I didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. I took the red string and put it in my pocket. “Thank you.” I changed my clothes and opened the door. Xena called out anxiously, “Where are you going?” “To play basketball with friends.” Since getting together with Xena, all my free time belonged to her. I accompanied her everywhere, took care of her, and had no time left for myself. That wouldn’t be the case anymore. I needed to live for myself now.

After an exhilarating game with my friends, we sat on the benches by the court, drinking water. My friends joked, “We thought you’d forgotten about us since you got a girlfriend. We were about to stop inviting you out.” I apologized and promised, “I’m sorry, guys. It won’t happen again. Count me in for any future plans.” “That’s more like it! Come on, let’s go to the internet cafe and play some games.” When I was with Xena, I couldn’t fit into her Instagram world, but I had slowly distanced myself from my own friends for her sake. I revolved my life around her, prioritizing her above all else. Looking back, I realized how foolish I had been. When I got home, it was almost midnight. I opened the bedroom door to find Xena sitting on the bed. She frowned and said, “Ezra, why are you back so late? I had to order takeout for lunch and dinner. It was awful.” I opened the closet to get some clean clothes. “I ate at restaurants today too. The food was pretty good, not worse than home-cooked meals.” Xena stared at me in surprise. “You used to say you’d cook for me every day and that I shouldn’t eat takeout because it’s unhygienic!” “I was wrong. Living in this society, if you can’t cook, you have to get used to takeout food.” A flash of anger crossed Xena’s eyes. “You say you’re not angry, but you’ve been out all day without a single call or message, and you didn’t come home to cook for me!” I replied calmly, “I’m not angry. I was just hanging out with friends. My phone died, so I couldn’t call.” Seeing my attitude, Xena suddenly threw off the covers and got out of bed angrily. She grabbed me as I was about to leave, her voice shrill. “Can’t you be more understanding? I’ve told you we’re just like siblings! What are you still upset about? Ezra, my patience has limits!” I shook off her hand. “I’m really not upset. I’m tired. I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.” With that, I took my clothes and went to the bathroom to shower, ignoring Xena’s calls from inside the bedroom. That night, I slept soundly for the first time in a long while. Xena was a restless sleeper, kicking off the covers several times a night. When we slept together, I never got a full night’s rest, having to get up multiple times to cover her. Early the next morning, Xena sat in the living room with her arms crossed, her face dark with anger. I knew she was waiting for me to apologize first and make her happy. In the past, whenever she was unhappy, I would beg for her forgiveness, even if I didn’t think I had done anything wrong. Then she would list a bunch of conditions, and only after I had fulfilled them all would she reluctantly forgive me. This had been the pattern for years, and I was tired of it. I ignored her, got ready, and left. I had important things to do today.

I went to the office to submit my resignation letter. My manager was surprised and tried to persuade me to stay, but I insisted on leaving. I had originally taken this job to be close to Xena, to take care of her. But now, that was no longer necessary. Last night, I had a video call with my parents, telling them I was planning to quit my job and return home. I saw the tears of joy in my mom’s eyes. My dad’s health hasn’t been good lately, and he’s been struggling to run the small supermarket by himself. When I say “home,” it’s not some remote village, but a coastal city. Xena had always refused to go back with me, saying she wasn’t used to the food there. So I left my parents to find work here with her. That evening, I met up with my friends for dinner and told them the news. They all agreed that going back was the right decision, as my parents’ health was more important. After a few drinks, someone suddenly asked, “What about Xena? Is she willing to go back with you now?” I was silent for a moment, then smiled bitterly. “No, we’ll probably break up.” I used to think I could build a home here with Xena, and then bring my parents over later. But now that home was gone, and I was returning to the one with my parents – the one that would never abandon me. When I got back home, I saw Xena wearing a white dress, her black hair flowing loose, face perfectly made up, video chatting with Remy on her phone. Remy’s voice came through the speaker: “Snow, you look absolutely gorgeous. Even in a simple white dress, you look like a fairy!” Xena giggled, covering her face coyly. “Really? You’re still such a sweet talker.” I stood there silently. This “simple” white dress had cost me a month’s salary when I bought it for her. Xena turned around, still smiling, but her face fell when she saw me. She quickly told Remy, “I have to go now. I’ll be there soon. Have a snack while you wait.” Xena could be all smiles and care for Remy, but she couldn’t even spare a smile for me. She looked at me with disgust, then walked past me to put on her shoes and leave. She was starting her cold treatment again. In the years we’ve been together, she often gave me the silent treatment over issues related to Remy. Each time, I would be anxious, trying everything to please her. This time, I wasn’t nervous. I just took the groceries I had bought and went to the kitchen to make myself a late-night snack. I had been drinking with my friends earlier and hadn’t eaten much, so I was a bit hungry now. Over the next few days, I was busy handing over my work and packing my belongings. My things in the house were gradually disappearing, but Xena didn’t notice.

Today, Xena went out again to meet Remy. I sat at the dining table, scrolling through my phone while eating. Remy had posted on Instagram: “Whenever I feel lonely, you’re always there for me. I’m so grateful!” The photo showed Xena and Remy with their heads together, making peace signs at the camera. Xena’s girlfriends were all commenting, admiring their relationship. They had always thought Xena should be with Remy, and that I was the third wheel interfering in their relationship. Looking at that Instagram post, I suddenly felt that Xena’s friends weren’t wrong – they did look more like a couple. In the past, after enduring silently for a long time, I would gently remind Xena to keep some distance from Remy to avoid misunderstandings. Her friends would then mock me for being too controlling, saying I was suffocating Xena and not giving her any freedom to have friends. Xena never defended me. Instead, she joined them in criticizing me, telling me not to restrict her and to give her more freedom. Xena had commented: “You’re always there for me too!” I exited Instagram without a ripple in my heart and got up to clear the table. Thunder rumbled outside. It was about to rain. I went to the balcony to bring in the laundry, and large raindrops began hitting the windows. In the past, whenever it rained, I would anxiously call Xena to ask where she was and rush out with an umbrella to pick her up, afraid she might get even slightly wet. She and her friends would then laugh at me for being like an old woman, worrying too much and ruining their fun. I showered early and lay in bed scrolling through short videos, eventually falling asleep without realizing it. The sound of Xena forcefully pushing open my bedroom door woke me up. Seeing that I was sleeping, she angrily questioned me. “Ezra, it’s pouring outside, and your girlfriend isn’t home yet. Aren’t you worried at all? If it were my friends’ boyfriends, they’d be calling non-stop asking where they are and rushing out with umbrellas to pick them up! What about you?!”

I was surprised, not understanding why she was so angry. Once before, when it was raining and she was with Remy, I had called a few times to ask where she was and when she’d be back, offering to pick her up. She had been furious, saying I was worrying unnecessarily, that she was with Remy and he would send her home. She had also accused me of not being able to stand her being with Remy, using the rain as an excuse to make her come home quickly, saying my controlling behavior was suffocating her. Now that I was giving her the freedom she wanted and not worrying, she was questioning why I wasn’t going to pick her up. I really didn’t understand what she wanted. I replied calmly, “You’re with Remy, so I have nothing to worry about. You can stay out longer if you want, he’ll naturally send you home.” Xena stared at me with wide eyes in disbelief, perhaps wondering how I could speak so calmly about Remy and allow them to stay out late together. A moment later, she seemed to think of something and started explaining, “Today is the anniversary of Remy’s mother’s death. He’s very upset, and as his friend, I couldn’t bear to leave him alone. Don’t misunderstand.” I nodded in understanding. “I get it. You should keep him company on days like this.” My reasonableness seemed to leave Xena at a loss for words. She looked at my face intently, trying to find even a hint of anger, but found none. Xena softened her voice, “Ezra, I bought a new nightgown. It’s black lace. Want to see if it suits me?” I looked at her in surprise. This was tantamount to her actively seeking reconciliation. In the past, she always maintained a high and mighty attitude, only reluctantly making up with me after I had begged countless times. I pretended not to understand her implication and simply said, “No need. If you like it, that’s fine. You should go back to your room and sleep now.” Xena looked at me in disbelief, then stormed off in embarrassment and anger. I got up to close the door myself, then went back to bed. I slept well that night. The next morning, my friend Mike called to invite me to dinner. He had just returned from a business trip and, hearing that I was going back home, wanted to meet up one last time, saying such opportunities would be rare in the future. I felt a pang in my heart as I listened, and agreed. Before hanging up, he added, “Oh, bring Xena along too. I won’t call her separately.” Right, Mike wasn’t just my friend, but Xena’s friend too. He had introduced us initially. But this meant I couldn’t keep my return home a secret anymore. I hadn’t finished dealing with everything and didn’t want any complications. After hanging up, I saw Xena coming out. I hesitated for a moment, then looked up and said to her, “Mike wants to invite us to dinner tonight.” She looked at me hesitantly, about to speak when her phone rang. I don’t know what the person on the other end said, but Xena responded soothingly, “Remy, don’t worry. It won’t be lost. I’ll come over right away to help you look.” Xena hung up the phone and hurriedly walked towards the door, changing her shoes swiftly while telling me, “Ezra, Remy has an emergency and needs my help. You go to dinner by yourself tonight. I won’t be going. Let Mike know for me.” That evening, at a local barbecue place, just as Mike and I clinked our beer glasses, Xena walked in with Remy beside her. When our eyes met, Xena looked surprised and embarrassed. Remy, next to her, gave me a challenging smile.

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One day, I accidentally shipped a dress I bought online to my old home address. Soon, my brother’s wife, Bella, started sniping in the family chat. [I thought this dress was a gift for me! Who asks for something back after sending it out? That’s just petty.] I tried to explain, but her mockery only grew. [No wonder you’re still unmarried at thirty. Always being so petty. No man likes that] Her harsh words surprised me. Well, if that’s the case, I might as well reclaim the house, too. [Wow, Sandra, nice taste. The dress looks great, just a bit small for me.] One day, Bella popped up in my chat while I was busy at work. I opened the photo she sent. There she was, wearing the dress I had bought for myself a few days ago. It suddenly hit me; I forgot to update the shipping address after sending her a gift last time. No wonder I hadn’t received my parcel. I quickly sent her the correct address to return the dress. Bella deflated: [Come on. You could at least keep track of your addresses.] I apologized immediately, noting how much she liked the dress. To make up for the confusion, I ordered another one in her size as a surprise. Bella didn’t respond after receiving the new address. I thought she was just busy, but two hours later, she posted the tracking number in the family chat with thirty-something members and targeted me. [Sandra, I’ve sent the dress back. Next time you send something to someone’s house, don’t ask for it back. Try to be more generous; being so petty isn’t attractive.] Her sudden snide tone took me aback. After all, she had always been kind to me. Anger bubbled up as I processed her words, but since we were family, I kept my cool and explained. [Bella, I simply forgot to change the address after buying your birthday gift. The dress isn’t even the right fit. If you see something you like, send me the link, and I’ll buy it as an apology.] Instead of calming down, she accused me of mocking her: [You’re thirty and still not married. There’s definitely something wrong with your character. I’m just trying to remind you, and here you are, keeping score with gifts and dresses. You say we’re family, but you clearly keep a tally.] Her lecture made my blood boil. What did she mean by ‘keeping score’? Not to mention the numerous gifts and substantial skincare products I’d sent her way. And the house they were living in? I had bought it with my savings after graduation. With my constant travels for work, the house remained unoccupied. My brother Mike, a lowlife drifter always between jobs and borrowing money, made living unstable for his family. His son, Rick, was already in middle school, yet they still didn’t have a place to live. Unable to bear seeing Bella upset and crying so often, I offered them the house to stabilize their lives. Already frustrated with work, Bella’s antics pushed me over the edge. In a moment of anger, I typed in the chat: [If I really were petty, I wouldn’t have lent you the house.] Then, I immediately canceled the new dress order I’d made for her. Bella exploded: [My son is about to marry a rich woman, and soon we’ll be living in a mansion. We don’t care about your crappy place!] I’d heard all about how Bella boasted everywhere that Rick had snagged a wealthy girlfriend, putting on airs like she was already some high-society mother-in-law. I shot back: [Then move out now!] That silenced her in the group chat. By the time I finished my work, night had fallen. As I looked at the quiet family chat, I regretted my impulsive words. Then Mike called, tentatively probing, “Sandra, where’s the deed to the house you lent us?” Alarmed, I asked, “What’s up, Mike?” His tone was suddenly bold, as if someone was backing him. He blurted, “We’ve been here nearly ten years, and we’re attached to the house. Since you’re not married, just transfer it to us. For years, we’ve watched you struggle alone, so we never wanted to quibble over a name on a deed. Yet you had to argue with Bella this afternoon. She’s been upset all day, feeling insecure.” My fists clenched as he added, “We’ll even pay the transfer fees. Just pay us back when you get your salary.” I was furious. The cold realization that my generosity had been met with such calculation was chilling. It seemed too much goodwill couldn’t guarantee a good ending. I wiped away the last shred of remorse from my heart Sternly, I commanded, “Move out of the house within two days.”

Upon learning I was reclaiming the house, Bella exploded in the family chat that evening: [You’re still so young. How can you be so vindictive?] [Why can’t you give Mike the house since you don’t use it? You’re his sister!] [I haven’t lived even a single day of good life since I married Mike. And now you’re driving us out? You want us dead or what?] Her hysteria in the voice messages clashed starkly with the demure Bella, who had initially asked to stay in my house. I found it ridiculous and retorted: [I didn’t force you to marry into the family. You should be confronting whoever is making you suffer.] [And aren’t you supposed to be moving into a mansion soon?] Mike, feeling embarrassed, immediately jumped in. [Sandra, how can you speak to Bella like that?] Other relatives chimed in to defend Mike and Bella. My uncle angrily commented: [Sandra, you’re an adult. Why can’t you act like one?] My eldest uncle added: [They are a family of three under much pressure. It’s harder for them than for you.] My dad reproached: [Bella is just trying to teach you manners. Let it go. Don’t create a scene here.] I laughed off the absurdity. In this world, the weak always appeared righteous, claiming moral high ground while leeching off others. It seemed to help people could really turn into enemies. With how easily everyone was speaking, I replied with clapping emojis and proposed: [Since you all pity Bella’s family so much, why don’t you take them in?] [Let them stay with my uncle on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays; with my eldest uncle on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays; and visit my dad on Sundays.] If no one was going to help me close the windows, I might as well break the ceiling and get us all wet. The chat instantly fell silent. To prevent my dad from interfering during the move, I called him and sternly reminded him. “Dad, before you help Mike, think about whether you’ll rely on him in your old age.” After my mom’s death, my dad blatantly favored my brother. Last year, he wanted me to pay off Mike’s gambling debts, so I cut his allowance for three months. He quickly fell into line. Thinking of Mike’s behavior, my dad remained silent. As the mud threatened to splash onto themselves, everyone suddenly learned to step aside. The chat remained dead silent. Seeing no one defending them, Mike and Bella angrily left the group. I checked Bella’s profile and discovered she had blocked me. Their behavior indicated they planned to squat in the house indefinitely. I lacked the patience for that and booked a moving service online for Bella’s family the next day. If they refused to leave, I would have them moved. On the morning of the next day, I received the cash-on-delivery package from Bella. The courier approached me with a bill. “Hello, that’ll be 307 for the shipping fee.” I was shocked. “Just for a dress?” The courier struggled with a cart from behind, pulling out a huge box, which I sliced open with a knife. Inside, the dress was cut to shreds. Bella deliberately soaked to increase its weight and wrapped around a massive stone. Even the courier couldn’t help but curse, “That’s just malicious.” As I was calming down from this incident, the moving company called me via video. “Ms. Pearson… is there anything left to move in this house?” I was puzzled. Had Bella’s family moved out on their own accord? The mover’s camera swung to the front door, and I was stunned. Bella and her family had indeed moved out early, but where was my door?

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As the real daughter of the Sterling family, I was brought back home and joined a reality dating show with my fake sister. Faced with insults from the backstabbing Mia Harper, the tantrums of a self-absorbed male idol, and the show director’s manipulative antics, I smirked and said, “Breast implants, a visit to Greenfield Wellness Clinic, and a million-dollar RV for your mistress? Ring any bells?” The group froze, clutching their chests, reeling with shock as they scrambled to figure out who had betrayed their secrets. I only smiled enigmatically. What can I say? My strange ability to see people’s purchase histories has its perks. Content My biological parents found me when I was hauling bricks at Steelworks Warehouse. Years ago, Victoria Sterling gave birth to me at a small-town hospital, but due to a nurse’s negligence, I was switched at birth. But now, they’d found me. Ah, the Sterling family—a true embodiment of wealth. Sterling Manor looked straight out of a novel, with its fountains and sprawling lawns. The moment I sat in the luxurious living room, a severe-looking woman stormed in. “This sofa was shipped from Europe last week! Miss Claire adores it! Who let this stray into dirtying the fabric? Get up immediately!” She yanked my arm so hard I stumbled to my feet. Before I could steady myself, another woman with an elegant aura rushed in. Her eyes turned red when she saw me, and she embraced me. “My child! You’ve suffered all these years!” I rubbed my nose awkwardly. “Not that much…” Moments later, the doors burst again, admitting a stern middle-aged man and a delicate girl who looked like a gentle lily. The three of them stared at me nervously. Victoria pulled Eva forward and hesitated. “What if we kept Evangeline here to keep you company? So you wouldn’t feel lonely…” Of course, they wanted to keep Eva. It wasn’t a surprise. One was the fake daughter they’d raised for years; the other was me, the real daughter they barely knew. I didn’t care much, so I replied breezily, “Sure. Dad, Mom, Sis.” Their faces lit up with joy. Eva beamed and stood behind me, pleased to be my new shadow. “By the way, who’s this?” My gaze fell on the severe woman from earlier. Her haughty demeanor melted into an overly sweet smile. “Miss Sterling, I’m the housekeeper. Mrs. Zhao…” “Housekeeper?” I looped my arm around Victoria’s. “Mom, the housekeeper wouldn’t happen to be the one selling eight-figure jewelry, would she?” Mrs. Zhao’s face twitched. “Mom, I ran into her at a consignment shop recently. She was selling a diamond necklace there.” Victoria froze and glanced at Mrs. Zhao with suspicion. Mrs. Zhao’s expression turned panicked as she began sweating profusely. “Miss Sterling, I… I’ve never been to any consignment shop!” Maybe her selling items at consignment stores was a lie, but stealing Sterling’s family jewelry and selling it? That was undoubtedly true. Ever since I woke up, I’ve had a strange ability: I can see the details of everyone’s purchase history. Mrs. Zhao has been stealing from my mother for years! “Fine. To prove I’m not slandering you, Mom, have someone check your jewelry collection.” I described the necklace in question. Mrs. Zhao paled. “Why would you investigate me? I didn’t steal anything!” A guilty confession. Victoria immediately ordered someone to inspect the jewelry. Mrs. Zhao collapsed to the floor, trembling. Eva shuffled closer to me and tugged on my sleeve. “Sister, you’re… amazing!” Her face was glowing with admiration. Me:? That’s all it took to win her over? Her soft, innocent demeanor… no wonder she was written as the pitiful supporting character who could never escape the protagonist’s oppression.

Yes, I, the honest Naomi Sterling, and Eva, the fake Evangeline Claire, are not even the main characters in this world. The true protagonist is Mia Harper, a rising star who clawed her way up the entertainment industry by destroying Eva’s reputation. Mia’s career began with her branding as a “Mini Eva,” using Eva’s long-established popularity while secretly undermining her. They both signed onto Love Among the Stars, a reality dating show. During filming, a scandal broke out, accusing Eva of assaulting a pregnant woman. Her reputation tanked overnight. Meanwhile, Mia was hailed as a kind-hearted beauty, her fame skyrocketing in contrast to Eva’s downfall. Sure, if the story were told from Mia’s perspective, it’d be entertaining. But in this world, I’m Naomi, Eva’s big sister. And I know exactly what Mia is up to. That “pregnant woman”? A fake hired to ruin Eva. Even if Eva is only my “convenient” sister, she’s still a Sterling. I won’t let anyone bully her. Eva is sweet and pretty, going out of her way to subtly please me. Honestly, with her lovely face that fits perfectly into my aesthetic preferences, I can’t stand seeing her reputation torn apart. So, when Alexander Sterling asked me if I wanted to take over Sterling Enterprises, I eyed Eva holding the Love Among the Stars invitation and said I wanted to join the show with her. Eva’s eyes lit up. “Dad, please!” She turned on her pleading charm. “If I join the show with Sister, you’ll feel much more at ease, right?” I privately discussed some of my business ventures with my dad, even sharing my private investment fund. Alexander was thrilled, handed over the company’s future to me, and approved Eva and me joining the show.

The show began with a live stream introduction at Sunset Hill Villa; all participants were present. I discreetly checked my phone, where the live stream chat buzzed with attacks on Eva. “Why the hell did the producers invite someone like Evangeline Claire? She’s so fake and manipulative. She doesn’t belong on this show with our Mia!” “Ugh, she’s here to leech off Mia Harper’s fame. Can she stand on her own for once?” “Exactly! Diva’s behavior and zero charm, yet she dares to show up here? Get off the show!” Mia Harper, ever the star of the narrative, made her entrance and caused a wave of excited reactions. “OMG! My queen Mia is so gorgeous!” “Mia Harper is literal perfection—angelic face, killer body!” “Prprprprprprpr” (Yes, the fans were practically drooling.) The opening introductions went smoothly enough. Everyone was civil—on the surface. Then came the mutual Q&A segment, where Mia wasted no time targeting Eva. Feigning casual concern, she smiled sweetly and asked, “Eva, have you been watching any good TV shows lately? I heard you’ve been taking much time off at home.” Oh, a subtle jab at Eva’s struggles to find work. Classic. Eva’s expression stiffened, and she was about to respond when I placed a hand on her arm to stop her. “Eva? Watching TV? Hardly. She’s been too busy accompanying my mom to Serenity Spa, going on vacations, and attending auctions. Who has time for brainless soap operas?” I quipped with a raised eyebrow. Mia blinked, clearly caught off guard, but quickly recovered. Her smile tightened as she asked, “That’s nice. Did Eva pick up anything interesting at the auction? Maybe she could share with us?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I just hope you didn’t accidentally buy a fake. You know how it is—things, like people, can be fake or real. Only fools can’t tell the difference.” The jab was razor-sharp, with an unmistakable implication.

Mia Harper knew something—perhaps about Eva and me not being faithful Sterlings. But how? My parents hadn’t made any public announcements about Eva’s origins. How did Mia find out? I scrutinized Mia from head to toe. She remained composed, even throwing me a sly, knowing smile. Next to me, Eva clung to my arm, whispering nervously, “Sister, what do we do? Do you think she knows?” I gave her hand a reassuring pat. “Stay calm,” I whispered back. Eva immediately straightened up, puffing out her chest with newfound courage. Her wide, trusting eyes were fixed on me. I turned to Mia with a smile that could cut glass. “Not as much as you, Ms. Harper. Though I must say, the Magne-Tec seems pretty convincing.” “Sometimes what’s fake can look real, you know—depends on how much effort you put into selling it,” I added, pausing deliberately. “Take Eva, for example… or, say, your chest.” For a moment, the live chat fell into stunned silence. “What is she talking about? I feel like she just said something I can’t quite grasp…” “What’s Magne-Tec? Why does Mia look a little pale?” “Cough, cough. If I’m not mistaken, Magne-Tec is… a breast implant brand.” “OMG? Isn’t Mia endorsing some ‘natural enhancement’ cream? So it’s all just technology and a good surgeon?” Mia choked on her water, coughing violently. One of the male idols, Ryan Vega, hurried over to pat her back with excessive eagerness. “Mia, are you okay?” His hands hovered awkwardly near his chest as though he was afraid to touch her. Meanwhile, Daniel Cole, the award-winning actor, looked utterly lost, his confusion painted across his face. Dominic Hayes, the band’s lead singer, raised a brow and shot a knowing glance at Mia’s… enhancements. Still coughing, Mia clutched her chest, her eyes betraying panic and uncertainty. She straightened up and attempted to maintain her composure. “I’m not sure what you’re insinuating, Naomi,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “It feels like you’re holding a grudge against me.” She blinked back tears dramatically, her voice softening to an almost sad tone. “If I’ve done anything to make you misunderstand me, I deeply apologize. But I hope you won’t accuse me of something baseless. That’s just unfair.” Ah, there it was—the move to redirect public sympathy and unleash her rabid fanbase against me. I chuckled lightly, crossing my arms. “Ms. Harper, didn’t you start discussing fake versus real? Maybe you should explain to your fans whether your Magne-Tec is the real deal.” Mia’s face turned several shades paler as the chat erupted once again.

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