Category: English

The night before my wedding, I opened the smart security camera in our new home, but the feed accidentally connected to five years in the future. Ethan sat on the sofa. I smiled and pressed the intercom button. “Ethan, my grandfather said he’ll officially announce me as the heir to the Winchester estate at the wedding.” He suddenly looked up at the camera, his eyes filled with pity. “Lily, did you take too many hallucinogens today?” Before I could respond, my sister Rain walked into frame, her belly swollen with pregnancy. Ethan gently pulled her close. “Don’t you remember? The night we registered our marriage, I locked you in the attic. You’re just a fake occupying her place.” “Rain is the true Winchester bloodline. She’s been running Winchester Corporation for five years now. I forged your signature long ago to transfer all your shares to her.” “Don’t worry. Even if you really have gone insane, you’re still my legitimate wife. I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.” A bone-deep chill swept through my body as I plunged into an icy abyss. The smart camera screen emitted a harsh burst of static, then went completely black.

I collapsed onto the bed covered in rose petals, my body soaked in cold sweat. Less than ten hours remained until our wedding of the century tomorrow. No wonder for the past six months, Ethan had been forcibly interfering with my work under the pretext of letting me focus on wedding preparations. First, he’d transferred my most capable assistant away from headquarters under the excuse of expanding company operations. Then he’d sent my protective grandfather to a fully enclosed private hospital under the guise of convalescence. They wanted to completely take over my shares in Winchester Corporation! Face pale, I fumbled for my phone, wanting to call the police, wanting to contact my personal lawyer. But the upper left corner of the screen clearly displayed “No Service.” The entire mansion’s signal had been blocked. I staggered toward the door and yanked the handle, only to discover it had been locked from the outside. Just then, steady, familiar footsteps echoed in the hallway. Ethan wore the loungewear I’d personally selected for him, carrying a glass of milk, his eyes tender. “Lily, why aren’t you asleep yet?” He approached, habitually moving to kiss my forehead. “Being a bride tomorrow will be exhausting. Drink your milk and get some rest.” If this had been ten minutes ago, I would have drowned in his devotion and willingly drunk that glass of milk. But now, I only felt violently nauseated. I knocked the glass from his hand, grabbed a shard of broken glass and pressed it against my carotid artery, staring him down. “Ethan, drop the act.” “I know what you put in there. Don’t even think about taking Winchester shares from me!” Ethan sighed helplessly, his tone still gentle. “Lily, your persecution complex has been getting worse lately.” “Winchester would only destroy you. I’m taking over the company to protect our future together. Why can’t you understand my good intentions?” As he spoke, he opened his phone screen and turned it toward me. Rain’s hand was casually pinching my grandfather’s oxygen tube. “Ethan! Get her out of there!” My eyes nearly split with rage. The glass shard instantly pierced my skin. Seeing my blood, Ethan frowned, his tone displeased. “Rain is just visiting my grandfather. Why hurt yourself? It makes me worry.” He raised his hand slightly, and the bodyguard outside immediately handed him another glass of milk. “But my grandfather’s heart and lungs are so fragile. If the machines malfunction in the middle of the night, I wonder how many minutes he could survive?” I looked at my grandfather’s weakly rising chest in the video, trembling as I released the glass and drank that cup of milk. The drug took effect extremely fast. Accompanied by intense muscle weakness, I sank into darkness. When I opened my eyes again, I’d been changed into an elaborate French wedding gown. My brain was abnormally clear, but my throat couldn’t produce a single sound. My limbs were completely immobile, held down by two bodyguards as they slowly wheeled me into the hotel ballroom. Ethan knelt before me, leaning close to whisper in my ear with a low laugh. “Lily, are you happy? Our wedding is about to begin.”

Ethan slowly stood up and took the microphone from the officiant. The romantic wedding photos on the big screen abruptly stopped. In their place appeared two documents stamped with embossed seals. A paternity test, and a diagnosis of severe manic-type schizophrenia. The entire venue fell deathly silent. Ethan’s eyes reddened. “Everyone, I apologize. Today, besides our wedding, I must announce something heartbreaking.” “My bride, Lily Winchester, is not of Winchester blood. The true heiress is only one person—Miss Rain.” The crowd below erupted in gasps. Ethan closed his eyes in pain. “Unable to accept the truth, Lily developed severe schizophrenia. Just last night, she even tried to self-harm to threaten her family.” The big screen flickered, playing a silent surveillance video. It showed me from just hours ago in the bridal suite, holding a glass shard against my bleeding neck! My pupils constricted sharply, blood rushing backward through my body. Everything had been within his control all along! “For Winchester’s stability, and for Lily to receive proper treatment.” Ethan stepped aside. The family attorney, who had watched me grow up, walked onto the stage. He avoided my gaze and read aloud: “Given that Miss Lily Winchester has been determined legally incapacitated, her Winchester shares shall be transferred by her husband Ethan to the true heiress, Rain.” Rain, wearing an elaborate bridesmaid dress, carried the transfer documents to me. Looking at her pale, slender hands, a painful memory flashed through my mind. Six months ago, I’d been in a car accident with a compound fracture in my right hand, desperately waiting for family consent to save the limb. But Ethan, who was almost at the hospital, turned back because Rain claimed her claustrophobia was triggered and she was going to cut her wrists. I missed the optimal surgery window, leaving my right hand barely able to hold a pen. Afterward, he’d slapped himself hard at my hospital bedside, crying as he held me tight. “Lily, it’s all my fault. Rain is your sister. I was afraid if something happened to her, you’d spiral. From now on, my hands are your hands. I’ll take care of you forever.” Now, Ethan walked over and gripped my right hand. On that document stripping me of everything, he firmly signed my name. The guests finally reacted, their contempt and disgust pelting me like hail. “No wonder she’s in a wheelchair—she’s insane!” “Mr. Fitzgerald is so unfortunate, tricked into marriage by this lunatic!” A glass of champagne was viciously thrown from below. Ethan removed his custom suit and wrapped my trembling body in it. His face was cut by glass shards. “Please don’t blame Lily. It’s not her fault—it’s the illness.” “I, Ethan Fitzgerald, swear that no matter what Lily becomes, she is my lawfully wedded wife. I will never abandon her!” The guests were moved by his loyalty and devotion. He pressed his lips to my ear, his voice tender as a love confession. “Did you hear that, Lily? The whole world knows you’re insane.” “You’ll stay by my side alone and be Mrs. Fitzgerald for the rest of your life.”

When the drugs wore off, I opened my eyes to find myself in a completely sealed room. A surveillance camera’s red light blinked overhead. The door lock clicked softly. Rain walked in, smiling triumphantly. “Lily, you’re finally awake. After being overshadowed by you for twenty years, I’ve finally taken back everything that belongs to me.” “The Winchester inheritance, and Ethan—they’re all mine now. And you can only stay locked in here like a dog forever.” I looked at her coldly and laughed. “You really think Ethan loves you? You’re just his shield for swallowing Winchester. He made you the heir because he likes how stupid you are.” Her expression changed. She grabbed my hair viciously. “Shut up! That old bastard helped you hide your fake identity for twenty years, but Ethan still found out, didn’t he?” “Ethan helped me, and you have nothing. What right do you have to sow discord now!” As if remembering something exciting, she suddenly sneered. “Lily, you don’t actually think that severe schizophrenia diagnosis at today’s banquet was just fake paperwork Ethan paid for, do you?” “I was the one who told him about your habit of drinking warm water every morning.” My brain exploded. Ice shot up my spine straight to the top of my skull. I’d thought yesterday’s milk was the first time. But all these years, the warm water he’d handed me after every good morning kiss had been drugged! She raised her hand with a smile, her sharp nails scratching across my face. Blood immediately welled up. Ethan walked in at that moment. Rain’s expression changed instantly. She collapsed weakly to the floor, tears threatening to fall. “Ethan, Lily’s manic episode is acting up. She tried to hit me…” Ethan strode over, but didn’t help her up. “Rain, the surveillance camera overhead is still on. I made you Winchester’s CEO, not gave you permission to touch Lily.” “This is the Fitzgerald house. Lily is Mrs. Fitzgerald. Know your place and get out.” Rain’s face went deathly pale. Filled with resentment and humiliation, she stormed out. Ethan took out an alcohol swab and gently cleaned the blood from my face. “Rain is just a tool to stabilize the board of directors. As long as you stay obediently in this room, I guarantee no one can hurt you.” He picked up a white pill and brought it to my lips. “Since you know I’ve been feeding you these for years, just be obedient now.” “Don’t forget—my grandfather is still in my care facility.” I looked at him without resisting, swallowing the pill with his hand. Ethan smiled with satisfaction and methodically unbuttoned his shirt. “Tonight is our wedding night, Lily.” His large frame immediately pressed down on me. Extreme panic and nausea surged in my heart! I found strength from somewhere, my nails clawing desperately into his back. But the disparity in strength between men and women meant my resistance was merely a cornered animal’s struggle in his eyes. After an eternity of suffering, he threw his soiled clothes onto my tear-stained face. “Compared to Rain’s gentle compliance, you’re utterly tasteless and disappointing.” “Next time, if you still haven’t learned how to please your husband, I’ll have Rain teach you in person.” With that, he strode away without looking back. In the darkness, I curled up my wounded body. I bit down hard on the fake death pill I’d been hiding in my cheek. I suddenly laughed silently. I laughed until my heart was torn, laughed until my mouth filled with blood. Ethan, your love is truly the most revolting thing in this world!

Excruciating pain tortured me all night as the fake death pill viciously consumed my life force. My body was ice cold, my breathing barely a thread. Ethan walked in wearing a suit. Seeing my bloodless face and weak appearance, he frowned. “Lily, you know sympathy plays don’t work on me.” He approached the bed, his tone icy. “Didn’t learn your lesson last night? Get up and take today’s medication.” As soon as he finished speaking, his phone suddenly emitted a piercing alarm. It was the dedicated app he’d specifically linked to my grandfather’s vital signs! Ethan’s expression changed. He yanked out his phone. I bit my tongue hard to stay conscious, using all my strength to lift my head and stare at his screen. In the image, Rain wore a sterile suit, her hand casually holding the oxygen tube and pacemaker cord she’d forcibly disconnected. She smiled innocently at the surveillance camera. On the heart monitor beside her, the green wave representing my grandfather’s vital signs convulsed violently twice, then instantly became a straight flatline! My grandfather was dead. The only leverage Ethan had to force my compliance for life was completely gone. “That idiot Rain!” Ethan’s eyes nearly split with rage. He shouted frantically into his communicator. “Where are the doctors! Resuscitate him now!” I stared at that flatline, unable to produce tears from my dry eyes. The last string in my heart finally snapped. At the same moment, the fake death pill reached its final eruption. I suddenly vomited a large mouthful of dark red blood, spraying it directly onto Ethan’s shirt! Then massive amounts of fresh blood poured madly from my mouth and nose. It stained a large section of pure white sheets a shocking crimson. Ethan’s roar cut off abruptly. His hands trembled as he tried to stop the blood gushing from my mouth. “Lily!!! What’s wrong?! Stop bleeding!” I used all my remaining strength to pull a blood-red smile. “Ethan, in this lifetime, I’ll never let you get what you want.” With that, my eyes completely lost focus. Ethan scooped up my blood-soaked body and crashed through the door toward downstairs like a madman. The Maybach ran through over a dozen red lights. He kicked open the emergency room door, his eyes bloodshot, roaring at all the top specialists. “Save her! If you can’t save her, you’ll all die with her!” The emergency room’s red light turned on, then off. The hospital director emerged, face ashen. “Mr. Fitzgerald… your wife experienced sudden irreversible multiple organ failure. Resuscitation was unsuccessful. Please accept our condolences.”

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When my boyfriend pressed the wrong elevator button for the 99th time—going to my friend Jade’s floor instead of mine—he looked at me accusingly. “Why didn’t you remind me? Well, since we’re already at Jade’s door, might as well help her change that light bulb.” I froze. Ever since Jade moved to the floor above mine a year ago, my boyfriend had been pressing the wrong floor button every single time. Once, when I had a high fever, he delivered medicine to Jade’s apartment instead because she had menstrual cramps. Another time, he was supposed to meet me for a movie, but he delivered the tickets to Jade’s place. Even on my birthday, he showed up at Jade’s door carrying my cake. And now, watching him walk into my best friend’s apartment without looking back, I coldly pressed the elevator close button. He had forgotten. Today was the day my lease expired. Today was the day I was moving out. Since he loved going to Jade’s place so much, he could stop coming to mine altogether. When I went downstairs, the moving company had already arrived. “Miss Winters, we’ll start moving now.” I nodded. My phone buzzed—a message from Ethan Lucas. “Where did you go? Don’t wander off.” This sudden show of concern made my fingers tremble slightly. But the moment I opened the chat, his next message popped up: “Go downstairs to the store and buy me a wrench. Jade doesn’t have one here.” I stared at his message for several seconds. So he hadn’t suddenly noticed I wasn’t following behind him. He only realized I wasn’t by his side because he needed me to do something for him. Scrolling up through our chat history, every single message was related to Jade Morgan. “Give Jade that skincare set your coworker brought you from France. I’ll buy you a different one.” “Jade mentioned wanting Japanese food last time. Let’s go after you get off work today. I already made a reservation.” Ethan’s messages to me were always declarative statements. He had already decided. He never thought to ask for my opinion. The most recent message before these was from that rainy day when I asked if he could pick me up. He said: “I’m already home. Just take a cab back yourself.” But the next second, Jade posted on her social media. A tilted umbrella sheltering her as she got into the passenger seat. “Almost got trapped in the rain. Lucky someone came to my rescue.” I recognized that car interior all too well. I used to think that since he was my boyfriend and Jade was my best friend, I should be happy they got along well. But my repeated compromises only made Ethan worse. This time, I didn’t reply. As I was packing in my room, Ethan sent another message: “Why aren’t you back yet? Jade says she wants French food. I’m taking her there first.” “Come meet us later.” This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. We’d make plans to eat together. But when I was late because of work or traffic, all that was left for me were cold leftovers. And Ethan’s response to my hurt feelings was always indifferent: “Jade has stomach problems. She ate first. The food is just a little cold, it still tastes fine. Stop making a fuss.” Stop making a fuss. When a pipe burst in my apartment and left the whole place flooded, I called him. He said the same thing: “I don’t have time to help you with that. Find a repairman yourself. Stop making a fuss.” So I washed the curtains myself, changed light bulbs myself, slowly learning not to depend on him. But with Jade, he showed a completely different face: “You don’t need to be so independent as a woman. If you need anything from now on, I’ll help you. You live so close to Vienna anyway, it’s no trouble.” I didn’t understand why the same kind of help was considered “making a fuss” when I was his girlfriend, but “no trouble” when it came to Jade. I swallowed the bitterness in my heart and messaged Ethan: “You two enjoy. I have things to do.” It took him a long time to reply: “Throwing another tantrum? Vienna Winters, how old are you? Stop being childish.” I had thrown tantrums before. Last winter, I had a fever of 102 degrees. I was shivering all over and called him to bring me medicine. But he said he was at Jade’s place. Jade had menstrual cramps and couldn’t get out of bed, so he went to rub her stomach. I said I was suffering too. He was silent for two seconds before saying: “You’ve always had a strong constitution, haven’t you? How bad could it be? Just buy some ibuprofen.” That was the first time I felt I couldn’t take it anymore. He was my boyfriend, yet I could never be his priority. I asked him for a breakup. But he didn’t say a word—just blocked me first. He knew I loved him too much. I was too dependent on him. So he let me cry for two days, let me cry myself dry. Then he had Jade invite me out to dinner. I pathetically chose to reconcile. After that, I never threw tantrums again. But this time was different. I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. I was serious.

The movers went in and out, and the things in my apartment decreased piece by piece. Only then did I realize that after seven years of dating, there was almost nothing of Ethan’s in my home. A pair of dusty slippers, a cup he’d used once—I couldn’t find a third item. Even the slippers and cup were things I had bought. He had never given me any proper gifts. When Jade moved, he brought her a housewarming present. On Jade’s birthday, he prepared a large bouquet of her favorite white roses. But to me, he always said: “Those formalistic things are meaningless. When two people live together, it’s better to be practical.” I had questioned him, expressed my dissatisfaction. He said: “I give your best friend gifts to make you look good, don’t I?” I laughed bitterly at myself. My phone buzzed—Mom was calling. “Hello, Vienna honey, how did things go with you and Ethan discussing the wedding?” Not long ago, Ethan and I had met with both our parents. Both families were very satisfied. When it came time to set the wedding date, Ethan said his career was in an upward phase and there was no rush to get married. At the time, though disappointed, I still understood his work pressure. But now, I was only grateful. A man who couldn’t even remember where my door was—after marriage, would I have to wait alone in an empty house forever? “Mom. We’re not getting married. I’m planning to break up.” Mom’s voice immediately became tense: “Why? Did he wrong you somehow?” “No, I just suddenly feel we’re not compatible.” On the other end of the line, Mom was clearly silent for a moment. After all, everyone knew I had loved Ethan Lucas for a full seven years. How deep seven years of feelings ran. Mom knew. Jade knew too. I was the one who pursued Ethan first. To get close to him, I listened to his favorite bands, read books in his field, even secretly joined the same gym just to run into him. After graduation, he signed with a company in New York. Without a second thought, I gave up the job my professor had lined up for me and followed him with my suitcase. Mom was so angry she didn’t speak to me for three days, but I only said: “Mom, if I miss him, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.” Back then, Jade had chided me in frustration: “Vienna Winters, you’re going to ruin yourself over this man.” Jade and I had been best friends for ten years. She had long since become as important to me as family. But no one expected that now she would enjoy my boyfriend’s care without a second thought, completely disregarding my feelings. Looking at Jade’s newly posted romantic dinner on social media, my eyes stung. The video was tagged at that restaurant I had researched so thoroughly. Flickering candlelight, exquisite dishes, pleasant piano music in the background. But every time I invited Ethan to go there with me, he always said: “We’re about to get married. Can you be a little more frugal?” “Spending thousands on one meal. Candlelight dinner—we can have that at home.” He said it so righteously that I could only swallow my expectations again and again. But now, with one word from Jade saying she wanted it, he took her to that restaurant I had longed for. When the last item was moved, I collapsed exhausted on the sofa. The last time I moved, I called Ethan and he said he was too busy with work and told me to find someone myself. To save money, I could only grit my teeth and move everything myself. By the end, I was so exhausted that my chronic back problem flared up, forcing me to rest in bed for two days. But when Jade moved, Ethan specifically took time off work. “Moving is so exhausting. Your best friend is single—we should help her out.” I watched him bustling about, sweat soaking his hair, and felt he was utterly unfamiliar. So he wasn’t incapable of helping someone move. He just couldn’t spare a single day off for me.

While I was organizing things, my phone exploded with calls. Ethan was calling: “Vienna Winters, open the door. You even changed the password? What’s that supposed to mean?” I was silent for a moment before speaking: “It doesn’t mean anything. Ethan Lucas, let’s break up.” But the person on the other end acted as if he hadn’t heard me. His voice was suppressing anger: “Jade remembered you wanted to eat at that restaurant. You didn’t come, but she specially got takeout for you. And what do you do? You changed the password and won’t even open the door when I knock.” “Vienna Winters, stop being so unreasonable!” I wasn’t sure if he hadn’t heard me say we should break up, or if he was so used to dismissing my requests for a breakup as just another unreasonable tantrum. I was about to repeat myself when he had already hung up. I laughed bitterly at myself. My fault. I had loved Ethan Lucas too openly, too publicly. Even he himself didn’t believe I would leave him. The next day, when I went to the mall to buy things for my new place, I turned around a shelf and ran straight into two people. Ethan was carrying shopping bags large and small. Jade was walking beside him. The smiles on both their faces stiffened the moment they saw me. “Vienna, don’t misunderstand. Ethan is just helping me buy things, worried I couldn’t carry them alone.” Jade explained while trying to reach for my hand. But Ethan yanked her back: “Why explain to her? She hasn’t even apologized for yesterday.” “Jade, you spoil her too much. That’s why she’s so ungrateful.” Jade looked at me with concern but still obediently followed Ethan to the checkout counter. Watching their backs, my heart felt like it had a gaping hole. Ethan never accompanied me shopping. He said shopping was too tiring, too troublesome. “If you need something, just order delivery. Why go through all that trouble yourself?” But now he was carrying bags large and small for Jade without complaint. Outside the mall, Ethan loaded everything into the trunk. Jade had already gotten into the passenger seat and rolled down the window to wave at me. Ethan naturally said: “Get in. I’ll drive you both home.” Seeing my eyes land on the “Girlfriend’s Exclusive Seat” sticker on the passenger side, he frowned, somewhat impatiently: “Jade hurt her back at the gym recently. The passenger seat has more space. You sit in the back for now.” Look at that. He remembered all of Jade’s habits. He remembered her bad back. He remembered her menstrual cramps. But he couldn’t remember the old injury I got from moving heavy boxes. My nose stung. I forced myself to speak: “No thanks. It’s not on my way.” Jade reached to unbuckle her seatbelt. “Vienna, why are you being like this?” “Don’t you want me in the passenger seat? I’ll get out right now.” But Ethan pressed her hand down first and sneered: “If it’s not on your way, forget it. Let’s go.” As soon as he finished speaking, the car started and drove away from me. With me, Ethan never seemed to have much patience.

A few days later, Ethan sent me an address again. “My mom invited you to dinner to discuss the wedding.” I typed and deleted in the message box, hesitating for a long time before finally replying with a simple “okay.” Even if I had decided to break up, I should give the older generation an explanation in person. After all, after seven years together, Ethan’s mother had been relatively good to me. When I walked into the private dining room, Mrs. Lucas was already there. I exchanged pleasantries with her. Only then did Ethan arrive late with Jade. “Mom, Jade works at the company next to mine. She’s also Vienna’s good friend.” “This restaurant is close to the office, so I brought her along.” Mrs. Lucas cleared her throat lightly, her expression somewhat unpleasant. But Ethan acted as if he didn’t notice and directly picked up the menu to start ordering. Everything he ordered was Jade’s favorite dishes. He and Jade both loved spicy food, but I couldn’t handle it. Every time the three of us ate Mexican food together, they would enjoy the peppers with relish while I could barely take two bites before coughing uncontrollably. “Ethan, don’t order so many spicy dishes—” Mrs. Lucas frowned and looked at me. Only then did Ethan seem to remember, saying casually: “Then let’s get this almond pudding. Vienna likes sweet things.” Bitterness welled up in my heart. After ordering everything, he finally deigned to consider my taste as an afterthought. “Ethan,” Jade looked somewhat troubled, glancing between Ethan and me: “Vienna is allergic to nuts.” Reminded by someone else, Ethan finally showed some panic, quickly flipping through the menu: “Oh, then we’ll change it. How about—” “No need to bother.” I stood up and interrupted him. How ridiculous. Seven years, yet not enough time for him to learn my tastes. Even my dietary restrictions had to be pointed out by someone else. I looked apologetically at Mrs. Lucas and spoke softly: “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lucas. I won’t be staying for dinner.” “Ethan Lucas and I have already broken up.” After saying this, I turned and left the private room. Ethan didn’t chase after me. It wasn’t until evening that Ethan finally showed up at my old apartment door. He rang the doorbell over and over, but no one answered. Impatience had just begun to show on his face when a neighbor stuck their head out: “Stop knocking. This is an empty unit. The woman who lived here moved out last week.”

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On my wedding anniversary, my husband Karen told me he had to wine and dine clients all night and couldn’t come home. My daughter Clara insisted on surprising Daddy. I pulled some strings to get VIP access and quietly brought her to Black Pack’s exclusive banquet. In the private booth, Clara asked me in her sweet little voice: “Mommy, can I go find Daddy?” Before I could answer, an Omega sitting nearby leaned over with a smile. “What an adorable child. My Alpha always says when our baby is born, they should be this well-behaved too.” As she handed Clara a macaron, the wolf-head brooch on her collar gleamed blindingly under the crystal chandelier. I asked with a trembling voice, “That’s a really unique brooch. Where did you get it custom made?” Pride radiated from her eyes: “My Alpha gave it to me as a gift.” “He said this is an exclusive token for top-tier Alphas. It’s one of a kind in the entire world.” I stared hard at that brooch—it was the token my father had personally given Karen when he assumed leadership of Black Pack. My blood ran cold instantly. I looked up at her, my voice shaking so badly I could barely speak: “Your Alpha… it’s not Karen from Black Pack, is it?” She raised her eyebrows in surprise, her smile growing more smug: “Oh, you actually know him?”

Clara lay against my lap, her little hands clutching my clothes as she looked around. Karen had said this morning he’d be out all night entertaining clients and couldn’t come home. But our daughter kept insisting she wanted to find Daddy and surprise him, so I pulled some strings to get VIP access and quietly brought her here. The banquet hall’s crystal chandeliers were dazzling. Everyone here belonged to the upper echelons of werewolf society. I had just sat down with Clara when the Omega next to us turned and smiled, offering Clara a macaron. “What a beautiful little girl, like a little angel.” Lena smiled warmly. As she raised her hand, the diamond-encrusted wolf-head brooch on her dress collar sparkled brilliantly. “My man loves children too. He always says he wants us to have one as sweet as your baby.” I blocked her hand offering the macaron, my gaze falling on the brooch. “That’s a White Pack custom piece, isn’t it? I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere.” “You have a good eye.” She deliberately straightened up, making the brooch more visible, unable to hide the pride in her voice. “My mate gave this to me. He said it’s an exclusive piece only top-tier Alphas can get. You can’t buy it anywhere no matter how much money you have. I actually thought it was too showy, but he insisted I wear it, saying only I’m worthy of it.” My fingertips turned white from gripping so hard, though my expression remained unchanged: “White Pack custom pieces are only given to Alphas recognized by the clan. Your mate is quite generous.” This brooch was given to Karen by my father personally when he ascended to the Alpha position. Years ago, when Black Pack’s old Alpha stepped down, it was my father who used his connections with the Elder Council to push Karen into the Alpha position. Since our marriage, although Karen was nominally the one in power at Black Pack, most of Black Pack’s resources still relied on White Pack connections. Obviously his Omega lover didn’t understand these inside details. “Of course, he’s always generous with me.” She tossed her hair, revealing a moonstone wolf-tail bracelet on her wrist. The milky white glow stood out especially under the crystal lights. “Like this bracelet—he specially gave it to me last Valentine’s Day. He said it’s a Black Pack heirloom, only given to the Pack’s Luna. I’ve worn it for almost a year and haven’t wanted to take it off.” My breathing stopped for half a second. This was what Karen had personally put on my wrist when we got married, saying it was a testament to our love. Half a year ago Karen said he accidentally lost this bracelet when we moved, and I’d felt regretful for so long. Turns out he gave it to his mistress. “And he’s given me more than just these.” Lena raised her right hand. The pink diamond’s brilliance hurt my eyes under the cruise ship lighting. “This is what he gave me for my birthday last year. A pink diamond this large is very hard to find.” I grabbed Lena’s wrist and examined it carefully. This was the pink diamond I’d bought at auction for forty million dollars. Karen actually dared to steal my things and give them to his mistress! “Mommy!” Clara suddenly tugged at my sleeve, her childish voice clear. “You’re hurting that lady.” I saw Lena’s twisted expression and released her wrist. The day the pink diamond went missing, I searched the entire house and couldn’t find it. Finally Karen had held me and laughed, saying: “Don’t be upset. I’ll buy you an even better one.” At the time I’d thought Karen was so considerate, that I really hadn’t married the wrong person. Now thinking back, I just felt Karen was hypocritical to the extreme. I suppressed the urge to retch and tightly gripped Clara’s hand. “Are you feeling unwell?” Lena finally noticed something was wrong with me. “A bit of low blood sugar.” I forced a smile and took the water a server handed me. “When did you and your mate meet?”

Lena froze at my question, a flash of embarrassment crossing her face. “I’m his mistress, but hear me out—Karen says he has no feelings for that nominal mate of his! It’s all her family clinging to him.” “Her family just saw that Karen was capable and a natural Alpha candidate, so they pestered him relentlessly until he married her. The pathetic resources her family gave Karen were all earned by Karen saving her back then. He doesn’t owe that woman anything.” My fingers gripping the water glass suddenly tightened, knuckles turning white, fingertips nearly embedding into the glass. Saved me? Hearing this almost made me laugh out loud. When I met Karen, he was just a bottom-tier werewolf in Black Pack who couldn’t even afford a decent business dinner. One year Black Pack was attacked by rogues. He rashly charged forward trying to claim credit and was nearly surrounded and killed in the chaos. I desperately dragged him out of the pile of corpses and saved his life. To save him I was poisoned with wolf venom and nearly lost the ability to shift for life. At the time he’d knelt before me with red eyes, clutching my hand and swearing he’d never betray me in this lifetime. To make things easier for him, I went home and begged my father on my knees for five million in startup capital. I also got him inserted into Black Pack’s core management and helped him climb to the Alpha position. My family poured our hearts out to pull him from the mud into the spotlight, giving him money, connections, and dignity. But in his mouth, my life-saving grace, all my sacrifices, became evidence of me pestering him relentlessly to marry him. He turned around and used our sincerity as gifts to court his mistress, even twisting the truth to say we were clinging to him. Looking at Lena’s smug face, the last bit of hope in my heart shattered completely. “That woman is not only gloomy in personality but also boring in bed,” Lena pursed her lips, her face full of disdain. “Karen says staying with her is especially depressing. If it weren’t for transitioning through her family’s connections, he would have divorced her long ago.” As she spoke, her face took on a deliberately flaunting sweetness: “But the hard times are almost over. Karen said once he’s firmly established as Alpha, he’ll divorce that woman immediately.” Next month on the 16th is our anniversary. He says he’s going to give me the beach house under that woman’s name.” The 16th… That was the day I woke up after being severely injured and falling into a coma while saving Karen. Karen didn’t come see me until the day after I woke up, saying he’d been delayed handling clan affairs the night before. Turns out while I lay unconscious in the hospital bed, he was sleeping with another Omega and taking credit for my life-saving grace to show off. “That woman still has no clue even now. She’s stupid as hell.” Lena sneered, her tone arrogant to the extreme. “She still thinks she married such a good, loyal husband. When Karen asks her for a divorce, she won’t even have anywhere to cry. If she’s smart she’ll pack her things and get lost, instead of refusing to let go of the Luna position.” She continued prattling in my ear, bragging about her sex with Karen, counting off the things Karen had given her—things that originally belonged to me. I couldn’t suppress the fury in my chest any longer. I suddenly stood up and viciously threw the water in my hand onto her smug face.

“Ah—! Are you insane?!” Lena bounced up from the booth. Ice water ran down her haute couture gown. Her foundation and eyeliner smeared into a mess, making her look like a painted cat. Clara was startled by the sudden scream and burst into tears with a “wah,” hugging my leg tightly. I immediately shielded my daughter behind me, looking at her expressionlessly as she jumped around. “What did I do to you that you’d throw water on me?” Lena dabbed at her face with an expensive silk handkerchief, while playing the victim to the surrounding onlookers. “Everyone look! This person threw water on me for no reason! How can there be no rules?!” Banquet attendants quickly squeezed through the crowd, bowing as they tried to mediate: “Ma’am, please calm down. Talk it out nicely, don’t disturb the other guests’ dining experience.” “Talk nicely? I’ve been soaked like this and you want me to talk nicely?” Lena pointed at my nose and shouted, her nail almost poking my face. “Do you know who I am? I’m the person Alpha Karen specially brought here! Go get Karen over here right now. Every minute you’re late, I’ll have him fire you!” The attendant looked troubled: “Ma’am, Alpha Karen is currently at the main table hosting the three clans’ elders. He really can’t step away.” “Can’t step away? His woman has been bullied like this and he can’t step away?” Lena raised her voice shrilly. “You won’t go? Fine, I’ll go to the main table and find him myself. Then I’ll tell him you were disrespectful to me, and we’ll see how Karen deals with you!” The attendant had no choice but to steel himself and go report. A few minutes later he returned, looking embarrassed: “Alpha Karen says he really can’t leave right now. He asks everyone to calm down, and he’ll handle it after the banquet ends.” Lena was clearly unsatisfied with this response. Just as she was about to make a scene, a Beta’s steady voice suddenly rang through the banquet hall—it was Karen’s second-in-command: “Distinguished guests, we have a female guest in the inner hall who has publicly attacked another person, causing harm to Alpha Karen’s Omega. Banquet security, please immediately restrain the troublemaker to ensure the safety of Alpha Karen’s Omega.” The moment the microphone announcement ended, every gaze in the banquet hall focused on me in unison. “Daring to touch someone Karen brought? Does she not want to survive in werewolf circles anymore?” “Karen’s Omega is so pitiful, accompanying her boyfriend to a banquet and getting bullied…” “Making a scene with a child in tow, isn’t she afraid of traumatizing the kid?” Some people took out their phones to secretly snap photos. Guests at nearby tables, afraid of getting involved in trouble, all shifted their seats away. A circle immediately cleared around our booth. Clara trembled all over, burying her face in my arms, crying softly and asking: “Mommy, why is everyone looking at us? Why won’t Daddy help us?” I held my daughter as bone-chilling cold shot from the soles of my feet to the top of my head. In front of the entire circle, Karen had turned me and my daughter into a laughingstock for everyone to gawk at. Two banquet security guards in black suits walked up to me. Seeing the guards arrive, Lena immediately put on an act, standing behind them. “It’s her who threw water on me for no reason. I didn’t even provoke her. Quickly take her away, I’m scared…” The guards reassured Lena, then turned to me: “Ma’am, please cooperate with us. Don’t make this difficult for us.” A server who appeared to be a shift supervisor quietly advised me: “Ma’am, I think you should just apologize. Alpha Karen has a lot of influence in the circle now. If this gets bigger, it won’t be good for you or the child.”

Black Pack is a top-tier clan in North American werewolf circles. One of the core reasons Karen could rise to power back then was because the old Alpha had no heir, plus our White Pack fully supported him from behind, which allowed him to overcome all objections and take the leadership position. I never expected that the person I helped into power would now use that power to suppress me. Lena proudly smoothed the wolf-head brooch at her collar and sneered: “Of course. Karen’s abilities are recognized by the entire circle. Otherwise he couldn’t have taken the Alpha position.” She turned to look at the two guards, putting on a frightened appearance. “Please take her away quickly. I’m really afraid she’ll suddenly go crazy again. My heart is still pounding hard.” The guards looked at me helplessly: “Ma’am, if you won’t apologize, we’ll have to ask you to wait temporarily in the back lounge.” “I did nothing wrong and won’t apologize.” I pulled Clara closer into my arms. “On the contrary, this lady publicly spread rumors and insulted others. She’s the one who should apologize.” The attendant, seeing I wouldn’t back down, could only contact Karen’s Beta again. Half a minute later he received a reply: “Alpha Karen instructs that the troublemaker be removed from the banquet immediately. Force may be used if necessary.” The guard sighed and made a gesture for me to go with them: “Ma’am, please cooperate with our work.” The surrounding guests’ gazes grew even more piercing. Lena deliberately shook the moonstone bracelet on her wrist, the silent flaunting slapping my face like a physical blow. I looked around at those clueless, pointing guests, at the guards caught in a difficult position. Clara trembled in my arms, her little shoulders shaking with sobs. An unprecedented fury burned in my chest. Karen, not only have you betrayed our mate bond, now you’re using the power my family gave you to twist the truth in front of the entire circle, treating me and my daughter like troublemaking outsiders? Fine. Just fine. I gently wiped the tears from Clara’s face, softly comforting her: “Baby don’t be scared, Mommy will protect you.” Then I raised my head, looking the guards straight in the eye, my voice clear and firm: “Let’s go.” I took Clara’s hand and followed the guards toward the backup lounge at the rear of the banquet hall. Clara looked up at me, her big eyes brimming with tears, asking in confusion: “Mommy, why do we have to leave? When will Daddy come take us home?” My heart felt like it was being squeezed tight. I crouched down to meet her eyes, using my fingertips to gently wipe the tears from her face: “Baby, remember this—no matter what happens, Mommy will always love you and always protect you.” Clara pressed close to me, her little hand clutching the corner of my clothing and refusing to let go. Through the lounge door, I could hear the music and clinking glasses from the banquet outside. The resolve in my heart grew stronger: Karen, you must pay the price for your betrayal and shamelessness. The banquet finally ended. Two enforcement officers from the Elder Council were already waiting outside the lounge door. Under the staff’s watchful eyes, Clara and I were brought to the VIP reception room of the banquet venue. Clara was well-behaved the whole time, just tightly gripping my hand without crying out loud anymore. We’d barely sat down when Lena’s coquettish voice came from outside the door: “Karen, look, she ruined my new gown. You have to make her apologize to me and compensate me for the dress.” “Alright, alright. She’s just an ordinary clan member with no background. I already spoke to the Elder Council. You can handle her however you want. I guarantee you’ll get your justice.” The door was pushed open. Karen walked in first, wearing a custom black banquet suit, his tone arrogant: “Where’s the troublemaker?” I spoke coldly: “Right here, Alpha Karen.” The smile on his face instantly froze. His pupils dilated sharply, his entire face filled with disbelieving terror.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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At a gathering with friends, someone patted my wife Lara Blanchett on the shoulder and asked: “Lara, a beauty like you must have had a first love back in school, right?” Lara smiled and reached up to adjust my shirt collar. “No, I only love my husband.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Parker, her male best friend sitting beside her, suddenly laughed out loud. “First love? No.” “But she did have a fuck buddy.” He propped his chin on his hand and looked at me, blinking smugly. “Don’t be nervous, Mason. I’m talking about back then.” “Lara was like a nymphomaniac—she dragged me to all kinds of places for sex. Nearly wore me out.” Someone cursed in surprise, and laughter instantly exploded in the private room. Parker wasn’t satisfied yet. He slowly twisted the knife deeper: “Sorry about this, but I got to sleep with your wife before you did. Three hundred and sixty-five times, to be exact.” He raised his glass and smiled at me with curved lips: “Don’t take it personally, Mason. Just joking between guys. It’s all in the past.” “If we still had something going on, we wouldn’t pick the day you announce you’re having a baby to say it, right?”

The air froze for a moment. Finally, someone reacted first, raising their glass to smooth things over. “Well, everyone did foolish things when they were young.” “It’s all in the past. Don’t dredge up old accounts.” “Besides, Lara treats Mason so well now. No matter how busy she is at work, she comes home. He can use the card however he wants. She drives him everywhere. Now that she’s pregnant, she’s arranged everything at home perfectly.” Another person chimed in: “Exactly. A woman like Lara is already rare.” “Parker has a loose tongue and loves to joke. Don’t take it to heart.” The private room became lively again, laughter and clinking glasses mixing into a cacophony. As if that previous exchange had really just been a harmless joke. I smiled too, but my fingertips were growing colder bit by bit. They weren’t wrong. Lara treated me well—proper, thoughtful, flawless. She gave me a watch for our anniversary, called a doctor when I was sick, never missed giving me gifts or clothes. But when Lara had sex with me, she was always calm, like completing a task. Always the same rhythm, the same positions, the same silence. No kissing, no flirting, no eye contact. From start to finish, she barely made a sound. Even her breathing was as controlled as if she were in a meeting. After it was over, she’d get up to shower immediately, her retreating figure efficient, without even asking how it was. At first, I thought it was because she had a reserved personality. Later, I thought it was because I wasn’t good enough. I tried many times. Changed to shirts she might like, learned those clumsy, pleasing moves from videos, and on nights when she came home from working late, I’d hold her with a flushed face. But she’d only frown and remove my hands. “Stop it. I’m tired today.” “Behave yourself.” Once, I worked up the courage, sprayed on new cologne, and changed into the suit she’d once complimented. She didn’t even look. She just draped her coat over the sofa, her tone flat. “Don’t wear that anymore. It doesn’t suit you.” Doesn’t suit me. That night, I washed the hair gel out bit by bit alone in the bathroom, suddenly feeling like the person in the mirror was a ridiculous clown. And now, Parker leaned next to her, laughing as he talked about their wild times back then. Lara said “that’s enough,” but she didn’t deny a single word. I finally understood. She wasn’t naturally cold. She just gave her passion to someone else and saved propriety for me. “Honey?” Lara suddenly called me, handing over a glass of warm water. “You don’t look well. Don’t overthink it. He’s had too much to drink and is talking nonsense.” I took the glass, my fingertip pressing against the warmth of the cup. Warm. But it couldn’t warm my heart at all. I looked up at her and asked softly: “Lara, have you ever truly loved me?” Her expression froze. She was about to speak. But Parker beside her laughed first, slowly swirling his wine glass: “Mason, that question really hurts the mood.” “For women, isn’t it enough that she’s willing to give you status and bear your child?” “After all, Lara slept in my arms for so many years and never gave me status.” I looked at him and suddenly laughed too. “You’re right.” “Status really is enough.” Except from this moment on, I don’t want it anymore.

On the drive home, the car was so quiet only the sound of the windshield wipers remained. Lara gripped the steering wheel. After a long time, she finally spoke. “Don’t take what Parker said seriously.” “It was just youthful foolishness. He can’t keep his mouth shut.” She paused, as if soothing someone being unreasonable. “I married you now. The baby is ours. Isn’t that enough?” I looked at the neon lights retreating outside the window, my nails digging into my palm bit by bit. “So you think I should be grateful?” Lara frowned. “Your emotions are running too high tonight. Go home and rest first.” When we got home, she took off her coat and, as usual, poured water, washed her hands, checked her phone. Calm, as if the humiliation in that private room had never happened. I stood at the bedroom door, my throat tight. At that moment, I suddenly wanted to know— Did she have no feelings for me, or did she simply not want me? I bit my teeth, unbuttoned my collar, and walked toward her. My fingers trembled, but I still reached out to hold her. “Lara…” “Look at me.” Her body stiffened for a moment, then she pulled away. No desire, no attraction—only exhaustion and impatience. She picked up the coat beside her and draped it back over my shoulders, her tone cold: “Stop fooling around.” My eyes immediately reddened. “You’ve been pregnant for three months. The doctor said it’s safe during the stable period…” “I’m not fooling around. I just want to know if you still want me.” Lara looked at me, her expression sinking bit by bit. “Mason, are you really this desperate?” Those words hit like a slap across my face. I froze in place, even my breathing trembling. But she had already turned around, grabbed her car keys, and headed out. The door slammed shut. The entire house was left with only me and my wretchedness. I sat on the edge of the bed, tears falling onto the back of my hand one by one. Half an hour later, my phone lit up with a notification. Parker had posted on Instagram. The photo showed a woman’s wrist in the driver’s seat, wearing the bracelet I’d given Lara. The caption read just one line: 【Someone’s mad I said too much when I was drunk. But she still came over in the middle of the night.】 Below that, he added another line: 【Back when we were poor students, we tried every place except car sex in a luxury vehicle.】 【Looks like we’re unlocking a new location tonight.】 I stared at those two lines of text and suddenly laughed. So when she said don’t overthink it, She meant for me to stay home with dignity. While she went to his place to let her true feelings run wild. I wiped away my tears, opened the family group chat, and sent a message. “Dad, Mom, please arrange a lawyer for me.” “I don’t want the baby anymore. I’m getting divorced too.” As soon as I sent the message, my father’s call came through. His voice was cold as ice. “Finally figured it out?” “Your mother and I never approved of Lara.” “The Blanchett family is good, but she’s been spoiled since childhood. Plus she keeps that unclear relationship with Parker as her male best friend.” “A woman like that has too fickle a heart. She can’t sustain a stable marriage.” “We only stepped back because you liked her.” “Now that you’ve woken up, it’s not too late.” My mother took over the phone, her tone both heartbroken and decisive: “I’ll have someone pick you up first thing tomorrow morning.” “The divorce lawyer is already on their way.” “As for the baby in her belly, Mom knows you can’t bear to give it up.” “But once this child is born, you and Lara will be entangled for life.” “This kind of marriage—cutting it off early is the real blessing.”

The next morning, I was woken by the sound of the door unlocking. Lara walked in carrying a paper bag, her expression unusually gentle. “You’re awake? I bought you a small cake.” She pushed the box in front of me, her tone coaxing like talking to a child. “Isn’t this your favorite place?” I looked down. Mango mousse. My stomach immediately churned. I’m allergic to mangoes. In severe cases, I have trouble breathing. I stared at that piece of mango mousse, suddenly remembering many small, piercing moments. Parker can’t eat onions. She remembered. Every time before ordering, she’d say first: “No onions in his portion.” Parker gets stomachaches from iced Americanos. She remembered. On rainy days, she’d order him a hot latte in advance, with a note for less sugar. Parker’s flight lands at 1 AM. She remembered that too. I’d seen the reminders on her phone more than once. 【Parker lands at 01:20, temperature drop, remind him to bring a jacket.】 These reminders were accurate down to the minute. But the fact that I’m allergic to mangoes—after three years, she still forgot. Seeing my terrible expression, Lara’s movements paused, and a flash of embarrassment crossed her face. “I… grabbed the wrong one.” She quickly pulled another box from her bag, rushing to make amends. “Then look at this. I passed by the boutique today and got this for you.” “You said you liked this watch before.” The box opened to reveal a beautiful timepiece. It really was the one I’d admired for a long time. If it were before, I probably would have forgiven her with tears in my eyes. But now, I only felt exhausted. I pushed the box back flatly. “Just leave it there.” Lara frowned: “Still sulking?” I didn’t respond. I picked up my phone. As soon as the screen lit up, group messages popped up. The group was still that familiar “Original Crew.” Parker had posted a nine-grid photo set. Men’s shirts, women’s short skirts, black lace lingerie scattered all over the floor. The group instantly exploded. “Holy shit, who was Parker with last night?” “That’s some intense action!” “Details, details! How many rounds did you go?” Parker replied leisurely: “Seven or eight, at least.” “Nearly killed me.” “Some people act all refined normally, but when they get wild, they really know what they’re doing.” A bunch of smirking emojis followed below. Then he sent another line: “@Lara Did you get home?” “Does Mason like the watch you picked for him?” I stared at that line of text, my fingers growing colder bit by bit. So even the apology gift was chosen by Parker. Beside me, Lara’s phone vibrated almost simultaneously. She glanced down, her face changing instantly, and reached out to grab my phone. I pressed the screen dark first and looked up at her. “I haven’t even asked you yet. No need to rush to explain.” Lara’s movement froze mid-air, her throat bobbing. “Don’t jump to conclusions.” “What happened between Parker and me is long in the past.” “After the baby’s born, I’ll take you on a trip. You’ve always wanted to see the Northern Lights in Iceland, right?” “Besides, if I still had something with him, the baby would be gone by now. Would we have made it to today?” She reached out to hold my hand, but I gently avoided it. I looked at her and suddenly smiled. “Yes, you’re right.” Lara paused, thinking I’d been pacified, and her tone relaxed. “See? That’s better. Don’t always get stuck in your head.” “Parker just loves to run his mouth. He posts whatever without thinking. Don’t stoop to his level.” I nodded, my voice flat and waveless. “For me, it doesn’t matter anymore.” Lara frowned slightly, clearly taking this as me being petulant. She glanced at the time and grabbed her car keys. “Alright, stop being moody.” “I have something this afternoon. I’ll come back later and have dinner with you.” The moment the door closed, the room became quiet again. I looked at the mango mousse on the table, slowly picked up my phone, and sent the lawyer a message: “We can proceed with the process now.”

At 3 PM, I sat in the hospital consultation room. The sunlight outside the window was blinding. The doctor finished reviewing the materials, looked up at me, and spoke in a calm tone: “Mr. Mason, terminating a pregnancy requires confirmation from the pregnant woman herself.” “As her husband, you can accompany her and sign some of the documents, but you cannot make the decision for her.” I nodded. Actually, before I came, I already knew. It was Lara’s body. Even if I hated her, even if I no longer wanted this child, I shouldn’t be the one to put her on the operating table. But I still came. Because I needed to hear a clear statement with my own ears before I could extinguish the last bit of hope in my heart. The doctor pushed the form back, his voice softening somewhat: “If you’re just having marital problems, I suggest resolving the relationship first.” “Children shouldn’t be used as bargaining chips.” I lowered my eyes, my fingertips gripping tighter bit by bit. I wasn’t being petulant. I finally understood that once this child was born, Lara and I could never cut ties cleanly. My phone vibrated once on the table. The screen lit up with a message from Lara: “Honey, I just picked out a baby stroller.” “It’s made so beautifully. He’ll definitely love it.” I stared at those two lines of text, my vision blurring. I suddenly remembered the day we found out about the pregnancy. When the test results were handed to me, Lara froze first, then tears filled her eyes the next second. She hugged me, laughing in the living room like a child. “I’m going to be a mom?” “Mason, I’m going to be a mom!” That night she leaned on my shoulder and talked about so much. Said the nursery should be painted light blue, or light yellow would be good too. Said I should choose the name. Said no matter how busy she was, she’d come home on time to be with me and the child. Back then, I really believed her. I thought this child would warm up the cold places between us again. But now, the same person was sending me baby stroller photos while leaving ambiguous traces in Parker’s social media during the night. Sincerity and betrayal could actually exist on the same face. I pressed the phone screen dark and said quietly to the doctor: “Thank you.” “I understand.” When I came out of the hospital, the lawyer was already waiting for me at the entrance. He handed over the drafted agreement. “Mr. Mason, the agreement states that if Ms. Lara insists on having the child, subsequent custody, visitation rights, child support, and property division can all enter separate clauses.” “However, whether to terminate the pregnancy cannot be unilaterally decided by you under the law.” I took the documents. The pages were light but felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. “Then let’s divorce first.” “The child’s matter will follow legal procedures.” The lawyer nodded. “Understood.” When I got home that evening, I’d just pushed open the door when I heard familiar laughter in the living room. Parker sat on the sofa while Lara poured him hot water. Seeing me, he immediately stood up, his eyes reddening, his tone sickeningly soft. “Mason, you’re back.” “I drank too much last night and talked nonsense. Please don’t take it to heart.” He walked forward two steps, as if sincerely apologizing. “Lara and I have just been fooling around since we were kids. I can’t keep my mouth shut.” “She’s pregnant now, and you’re emotionally sensitive. I understand.” “I’ll be more careful about boundaries from now on and won’t let you misunderstand again.” The words were apologetic, but the knife was hidden in every syllable. As if all of this was just me, the husband, making a mountain out of a molehill. Lara also spoke up, her tone certain: “I already said it was a misunderstanding.” “From now on, let’s live our lives well and raise the child properly. That’s more important than anything.” “You’re about to be a father. Stop overthinking and getting jealous all the time.” I leaned against the doorway, pale-faced, feeling exhausted even lifting my hand. Parker saw the hospital documents in my hand and exclaimed with fake surprise: “Mason, why do you look so terrible? You didn’t go to the hospital for random tests and scare yourself, did you?” “Men shouldn’t be so sensitive.” “Lara still has a baby in her belly. Don’t use the child as leverage in a fight.” I slowly raised my hand and waved it lightly. “Stop acting.” The living room fell silent. I looked at Lara and spoke word by word: “I don’t want this child anymore.” Lara’s expression instantly froze. “What did you say?” Before I could answer, the lawyer behind me stepped forward and handed over documents. The pages opened. Black text, clear and piercing. “Divorce Agreement.” The lawyer’s tone was steady: “Ms. Lara, this is the divorce agreement drafted by Mr. Mason. Please review it.” “Regarding the child, the agreement clearly states: if you insist on giving birth, Mr. Mason will fulfill his legal obligations.” “But this marriage—he has decided to terminate it.”

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The Blackwood Ridge massacre of 1995 shook the entire state. Three escaped convicts brutally murdered a forest ranger and his entire family—nine souls in total. Only the nine-year-old youngest daughter survived. When she was attacked, she fell beneath the open planks of the staircase, barely escaping with her life. But she was left permanently crippled, trapped in a lifetime of agony and suffocating regret. I am that youngest daughter. And I have just been reborn. Right back to ten minutes before the slaughter begins. 1 July 27, 1995. 10:00 AM. This exact date and time are burned into my soul. After turning nine, my life in the previous timeline was confined to a wheelchair. No family left. Only endless terror and whispers of what-ifs. Why did I open the door for them? Deep down, I knew that even if I hadn’t opened it, they would have broken in anyway. But a part of me always clung to that desperate, foolish illusion. Now, I am back. In exactly ten minutes, they will knock on our door. 2 I looked back into the cabin. My elderly grandparents were sitting in the corner, braiding heavy jute rope. The rope wouldn’t fetch much at the local market; they just couldn’t bear to let their hands sit idle. Dad hadn’t gone out to patrol the ridges today. It was a rare treat to have him home, mostly because Mom was away visiting her sister in the next county. My second older brother, Tommy, had wrecked his dirt bike and busted his leg, so he was home recovering. His wife, Jessica, was holding their two-year-old daughter, Lily, complaining endlessly about his recklessness. Her belly was noticeably round—in a month, my second nephew would be born. In just a few days, Mom was supposed to come back and take her to the county hospital to wait for the delivery. My oldest brother, David, worked a corporate job in the city. He had sent his two kids back to the mountains for summer vacation. The boy was twelve. His name was Ethan. True to his name, he was already five feet tall and built like a truck. Right now, he was outside helping Dad split firewood. The girl, Grace, was two years older than me. A bit spoiled. In those days, in the deep backcountry, it wasn’t weird for a niece or nephew to be older than their aunt. Terrified of the sun, Grace had pitched a large patio umbrella on the second-floor deck, curled up underneath it reading comic books. “Hey, looks like someone’s coming!” her sharp voice rang out. In my past life, she was the first to spot them too. But everyone in the yard ignored it. Blackwood Ridge was isolated and rugged. The only people who ever stumbled up here were lost hikers. Mountain folks are hospitable. We would always cook them a hearty meal, and then Dad would guide them back to the main highway. It was no different this time. Ten minutes later, they knocked. I had eagerly run to open the door, letting them in. Dad welcomed them warmly. Grandpa stoked the woodstove. Grandma started slicing our home-cured ham. Jessica handed baby Lily to Tommy and helped wash the vegetables. Grace was dragged down to help, rolling her eyes with every step. Tommy even chatted with one of them about his dirt bike injury. Dad went down to the root cellar to fetch a jar of blackberry moonshine he’d buried the previous winter. It was a joyful feast. But just as Dad asked whether they wanted to stay the night or head out while the sun was still up, the atmosphere shattered. One of the men reached out and grabbed Jessica. 3 It all happened so fast. I was upstairs on the second floor, trying to put baby Lily down for a nap. She was fussy and restless, which made me anxious. Suddenly, a strange sound echoed from downstairs. Short, sharp, instantly cut off. Then, a blood-curdling shriek. I flew to the window. The yard had turned into a living hell. Dad was slumped over the wooden table, blood jetting from his throat. Grandpa and Grandma were on the floor, one face down, one face up, their necks nearly severed. Ethan had been struck with his own wood-splitting axe, his skull split open, his body still twitching on the dirt. Those three men—one was overpowering Tommy, one was pinned on top of Jessica, and the third was dragging Grace toward the door. I shoved my fist into my mouth and bit down hard. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was real. Right then, Lily burst into a loud, frantic cry. The man dealing with Tommy finished his grim work, snapped his head up, and glared at me with cold, dead eyes. I spun around, scooped up Lily, and ran. The stairs leading from the second floor to the third were made of open-backed wooden planks. I tripped. The man bounded up the steps, closing the distance in seconds. He ripped Lily from my arms and threw her violently over the railing. Her crying stopped instantly. Driven mad, I lunged forward and bit his arm with everything I had. He roared in pain and hacked down on me twice with his blade. My body went limp. I felt my life force rushing out of me. The wooden stairs became slick and red. My small, frail body slipped right through the open gap between the steps. The man reached down to grab me, but I was out of reach. Seeing that I was bleeding out and surely a goner, he turned and walked back downstairs. The horrors that followed were things I only learned from police reports after I was rescued. They stayed in our cabin for three days and three nights. Jessica was murdered, her unborn baby brutally carved from her womb. Grace didn’t have a single inch of unmarred skin left. She was tortured to death. Mom suffered the cruelest fate. She returned on the third day, walking right into the house, only to have her throat slit the moment she stepped through the door. 4 Under the bright morning sun, my body broke into a violent chill. I shook so hard I couldn’t form words. The memories brought an agonizing, soul-crushing pain, but now was not the time for tears. I had been reborn. I would not let this tragedy happen again. I slammed the heavy yard gate shut, throwing the iron bolt into place. Then I dashed into the house, grabbed the old wall-mounted landline, and dialed the local automated ringback code followed by our home number. The moment I slammed the receiver down, the phone began to ring. In the past, I used this trick all the time to prank Dad. I picked it up, pretended to talk to someone for a few seconds, and then sprinted back to the living room. “Dad! Quick, get everyone inside! The Ranger Headquarters just called—they said three armed killers escaped into the mountains, and they’re heading right for us!” This was the only way to make them listen. If a nine-year-old girl tried to explain reincarnation, no one would believe me. I would waste the precious ten minutes just trying to explain the impossible. Hearing that armed killers were loose in the mountains, Dad instantly went on high alert. Something like this had actually happened a few years back. Tommy didn’t take it seriously, laughing it off. “Three of ’em? I’ll bash their skulls in with my crutch!” “Get inside, you idiot. You talk too much,” Jessica snapped. Knowing he was in the wrong—since the family had forbidden him from riding that dirt bike in the first place—Tommy didn’t dare argue. He meekly followed her inside. Grandpa and Grandma were hard of hearing. Sensing that explaining would take too long, Dad and Ethan grabbed them by their arms and practically carried them into the house, telling them a massive storm was rolling in. Grandpa looked up at the crystal-clear sky, muttering under his breath, refusing to move. Dad was incredibly strong. He physically hoisted Grandpa and his heavy bundle of rope right through the doorway. With a sharp whistle from Dad, two large golden hounds bounded over the low wall, tails wagging as they rushed into the house. One was still missing, probably wandered too far off, and there was no time to search for him now. Mountain dogs were free-roaming creatures; they’d run wild and sometimes disappear into the woods for two or three days. In my past life, they came back too late. They found their family slaughtered, went completely feral with rage, bit two of the killers, but were ultimately hacked to death. Yet, it was because of their attack that the three men were slowed down enough to be captured by the state police. Seeing that all the people and dogs were inside, I rushed over, closed the heavy oak door, and threw the deadbolt. Dad held the landline receiver, his brow furrowed deep as he looked at me. The line was dead. Absolutely no signal. I remembered the case files from my previous life. By this time, they had already cut the external telephone wires. “Did they cut the lines?” I prompted, keeping my voice urgent. Having been a forest ranger for so many years, Dad didn’t deal with humans often, but he dealt with dangerous beasts daily. He possessed a sharp survival instinct. He looked at Tommy decisively. “Go put up the heavy window shutters. Now.” By then, Grace realized something was wrong. She hurried down from the second floor, staring at us blankly. “Let’s go lock the upstairs windows,” I told her. Grace dragged her feet, reluctant as usual, but I squeezed past her and ran up the stairs. With Dad downstairs, the first floor would be tightly secured. I wasn’t worried about that. 4 This house was built of heavy stone. Originally, it had only been a single-story cabin. But as Dad’s generation expanded the family, he added two more floors on top. Our family had been forest rangers since Grandpa’s time. The legacy was supposed to pass to my oldest brother, David, but he worked hard, went to college, and flew out of the mountains. He was never going to come back to this wilderness. Tommy had also talked about finding a job in the city, refusing to be cooped up in a mountain valley. Dad had rushed to marry Jessica into the family just to anchor him down. Back when Grandpa was a ranger, the forests were dense, teeming with all kinds of predators. Grizzly bears would bang on the doors in the dead of night. Therefore, the doors and windows on the first floor were heavily reinforced. With the six solid wooden shutters locked down, it became a veritable fortress. I had zero worries about the ground floor. The second floor, however, was a different story. It was built haphazardly. By Dad’s time, logging had cleared much of the forest, and wild animals dwindled. You could barely spot a timber wolf, let alone a grizzly. The second floor also had stone walls, but it featured four large glass windows—two facing south, two facing north. Though they were old-fashioned double-hung wooden windows, smashing through the glass would be effortless. Worse, they lacked heavy shutters. This was the weakest link in the entire house. The third floor was just an attic for storage. It had no windows, only a small hatch leading to the roof, which we used for drying wild mushrooms and harvested herbs. Jessica and Grace had already closed the four windows. Out of sheer anxiety, Jessica’s face was flushed, and she kept saying her heart was hammering against her ribs. I quickly guided her to a chair. This was no joke; shocking a heavily pregnant woman could trigger an emergency. “Are we safe now? I’m going back to my book,” Grace said testily. Her words jolted me. I looked in her direction, and my heart dropped. I screamed, “Oh no!” 5 Grace was standing right in the middle of the second floor, where a recessed open-air balcony sat, originally built for hanging laundry in the winter. There was supposed to be a heavy door separating the balcony from the interior rooms, but the hinges had snapped. Dad had taken the door down to repair it and hadn’t reinstalled it yet. Wasn’t this giving them a direct highway inside? My gaze darted to the wooden extension ladder resting against the outside wall in the courtyard. A wave of despair washed over me. Even without their brute strength to climb up, the ladder was practically set up for them! Who else could we blame? “Dad! Ethan! Get up here, now!” I roared. Dad and Ethan came bounding up the stairs. “Quick, we need to block this opening!” By now, my expression was grim and deadly serious, entirely uncharacteristic of a nine-year-old girl. Dad looked startled. He was a simple, honest woodsman, never one to make big decisions. He was used to being ordered around by Mom. Being yelled at by his little daughter left him dazed, and he instinctively followed my orders. There was a massive, old-fashioned solid oak wardrobe in the hallway, incredibly heavy. I called Dad and Ethan over to push it. The three of us exerted every ounce of strength we had, but the wardrobe barely budged an inch. “Sweetie, let’s… let’s try something else…” Dad gasped, wiping sweat from his brow as he straightened his back. Bam! Bam! Bam! The front door rattled violently under a heavy knock. “They’re here! Hurry!” I leaped toward the wardrobe, tearing open the doors and hurling the heavy winter coats and blankets onto the floor. Lightened, the wardrobe scraped loudly across the floorboards, leaving deep grooves as we forced it to block the gap. The knocking grew deafening. Just as the wardrobe was about to shut out the final sliver of light from the balcony, I saw Grandma, waddling on her small feet, hurrying toward the front door downstairs. She muttered, “Where did everyone go? Why isn’t anyone answering the door?” 6 My brain felt like it was about to explode. I flew down the stairs with lightning speed. Just as Grandma’s hand touched the deadbolt, I threw my arms around her waist and dragged her back with everything I had. Though Ethan didn’t fully comprehend what was happening, he realized one thing: listening to me was the only way to survive. He rushed over to help pull her away. Fortunately, the knocking outside was so loud it drowned out our frantic scuffling in the entryway. The moment we dragged Grandma into the inner living room and locked the connecting door, a heavy thud echoed from the courtyard. Someone had jumped over the perimeter fence. Our two golden hounds stood up instantly, low, menacing growls vibrating in their throats. Dad’s eyes turned lethal. Compared to human strangers, he trusted his dogs. The hounds knew exactly who was good and who was evil. He raised a hand, signaling everyone to be silent. The dogs obediently shut their mouths. “You’re useless!” I mouthed fiercely at Tommy, blaming him for not guarding the door and letting Grandma wander out. Tommy was terrified out of his wits and didn’t dare talk back. Afraid that Grandma and Grandpa might cause another accident, I directed Dad and Ethan to drag the heavy oak dining table over to barricade the front door. The table was made of a solid slab of timber, nearly four inches thick. Since the front door opened inward, it would be impossible for them to break through. The first-floor windows were completely secure. I told Ethan and Tommy to keep a strict eye on Grandparents, then I followed Dad back up to the second floor. Grace was scared to death now, clutching baby Lily tightly as she sat beside Jessica, not daring to breathe loudly. “Anyone home?” a man’s voice boomed from the courtyard. “We’re just passing through! Looking to get some water!” 7 Dad and I crouched beneath the second-floor window sill, peering down into the yard. Three men had entered the enclosure. They wore matching navy-blue utility jumpsuits. Stenciled across the backs in large bold letters was: PACIFIC POWER. Dad frowned, looking at me with deep suspicion. There was a wind farm on the adjacent ridge, and utility workers often came up for maintenance. Could they have just taken a wrong turn? “Dad, I really got that call. They are killers,” I whispered urgently. “But aren’t they from the electric company? Could the station have made a mistake?” Dad muttered, still hesitant. “Is anybody there? Just need some water!” the man shouted again. We held our breath, watching their every move. Seeing no response after a few shouts, the men sat down on our porch steps and took off their hard hats. One was tall and gangly, one was short and stocky, and the third wore wire-rimmed glasses. They looked exactly like ordinary blue-collar workers. It was impossible to connect them to vicious murderers. Dad’s brow furrowed even deeper. “Hey Marcus, looks like nobody’s home. Maybe we should hit the trail,” the tall one said. The short, stocky man—Marcus—ignored him. He walked over to our chicken coop, bending down to peer inside. “Clint, bring the bag over here. There are fresh eggs. Take them.” Marcus reached in and pulled out a handful of eggs, covered in feathers and dirt. Clint, the man with glasses, brought a canvas sack over, a look of pure disgust on his face. He clearly didn’t look like a country boy. “Hey, there’s smoked ham and dried corn hanging under the eaves. Should we grab ’em?” The tall, thin man stood on his tiptoes, reaching up. “Garrett, find another sack. We’re heading deep into the wilderness; we need to hoard all the food we can.” The tall one was Garrett. In truth, I knew exactly who they were. Twenty years later, when the case files were unsealed in my previous life, their names and faces had been branded into my very bones. Marcus Vance had served five years for violent assault. In prison, he met Garrett Boyd, who was doing time for attempted armed robbery. Clint Brady was Garrett’s brother-in-law. Not long after Marcus was paroled, Garrett invited him to a bar, where they got into a brutal brawl. They severely injured two people and killed another before fleeing into these mountains. Seeing them steal our food, Dad finally started to believe me. These were definitely not honest workers. I prayed silently, Just take the food and leave! Go deep into the woods and never come back! As if answering my prayers, they stuffed their sacks full of our provisions, opened the main gate, and strolled out arrogantly. I let out a long breath, my legs turning to jelly as I collapsed onto the floor. “Aunt Chloe, look!” Grace cried out, her voice trembling. I spun around, and my heart stopped.

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1 On Valentine’s Day afternoon, the dorm room was pure chaos. Everyone was doing their makeup, trying on outfits, and getting ready for their dates. I was the only one sitting on my bed, clutching a half-eaten bag of chips, opening my iPad to catch up on Netflix. Avery changed into her millionth outfit, still unsatisfied, and drifted over to my closet. “Harper, this dress of yours is so gorgeous.” It was a plum-red, form-fitting slip dress with lines that subtly teased the imagination. I had specifically picked it out a month ago when Weston and I agreed to get dinner tonight. Avery looked at me. “Did no one ask you out tonight?” When I didn’t answer, the corner of her mouth curled up. She dropped a specific name: “Did Weston leave you on read again?” The moment she said his name, everyone else in the dorm looked over in unison. Weston Sterling was always the center of attention. He was drop-dead gorgeous, top of his pre-med class, and treated life like a game he was playing on easy mode. Romance was the same. Growing up constantly worshipped, he never lacked beautiful, proactive girls throwing themselves at him. And me? I was just the neighbor who happened to attend the same schools as him from elementary school all the way to college. I held the script of the “childhood friend next door,” but that was exactly where the story stalled. I pulled out my phone. His pinned conversation at the top of my messages had no red notification dot. If I didn’t text him, he would never initiate contact. By 9:30 PM, I had finished my show, and I was the only one left in the dorm. Avery had accidentally smeared a little foundation on the cuff of the plum-red dress. I knelt down, trying carefully to wipe it off. It wouldn’t come off. What’s the point anyway? Right as the thought crossed my mind, my phone buzzed. It was an unsaved number, but I recognized the digits instantly. I never saved him to my contacts because I didn’t want to admit how much I cared. But in reality, I had his number memorized by heart. “Hello?” I unconsciously picked at a stray thread on a hanger, trying to distract myself. He chuckled softly. It was like he could hear the suppressed grievance in my voice and was trying to coax me. “Wanna come out and hang?” The upward lilt at the end of his sentence was incredibly magnetic. It was his signature lazy charm. So he did remember. “It’s 9:30,” I said. “And?” he asked. “Is this how you always ask me out? At the absolute last minute? Weston, that’s really rude.” I forced a joking tone. “Did someone else cancel on you, so you’re calling me?” I tried to sound breezy, but my heart was pounding, desperate for his reaction. But no response came. The line was dead silent. I thought my Wi-Fi had dropped and was about to switch to cellular data when I realized he had simply hung up on me. In our iMessage thread, underneath the massive blocks of green texts I had sent him previously, he had just sent two new lines. Weston: […] Weston: [Whatever. Don’t force yourself.] Muscle memory took over. I instantly started typing, I was just joking, trying to explain myself. But my thumbs hovered over his two short, callous sentences. I had waited for him all night, and he hung up on me without a second thought. I deleted the draft. Instead, I typed: [Are you mad?] Send. He replied instantly: [Can’t you tell?] This was him demanding that I lower my head and grovel. Just like always. I replied instantly too: [Stay mad, then.] Then, I blocked his number. I turned around and opened Quizlet. Hah, men? I was going to memorize a hundred vocab flashcards tonight. Two hours later, right as I was finishing my deck, I got a call from Weston. “Are you hungry?” “No,” I said coldly. “Come downstairs. I brought you late-night food.” I poked my head out the window. Sure enough, his black SUV was parked in front of the dorm building. He was wearing a sharply tailored overcoat that made his complexion look even paler in the cold. He was leaning lazily against the car door, looking up at my exact window with a practiced smirk. He raised a hot bag of seafood chowder in the air. It was the exact same soup I had bought for him when he was running a high fever a while ago. As I walked down the stairs, two girls from my hall passed by me. “Wait, isn’t that Weston from the pre-med track?” “Who?” “The incredibly hot guy out front. I’ve seen TikToks of him around campus.” I pushed open the heavy dorm doors and reached out to take the bag of chowder. He pinched the top of the bag. It wouldn’t budge. “Give me your phone,” he said, holding his other hand out. “No.” I let go of the bag and turned to walk back inside. He caught my arm with one hand, and before I could react, he slipped his other hand into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I reached up to snatch it back. “What are you doing? You don’t even know my pass—” Before I could finish, the screen unlocked. “Is there anything about you I don’t know?” His smile deepened. He steadied me with one arm, tapped the screen a few times, and unblocked himself from my settings. Because he was pinned, he was easy to find. Because my passcode was his birthday, it was easy to guess. He knew absolutely everything. “Here. Eat up and go to sleep.” He placed the warm bag in my arms. “I feel like a pig farmer.” I looked up, meeting his eyes. “Weston…” “Weston.” Two voices spoke at the exact same time. I looked past him and saw someone sitting in the passenger seat of his SUV. Avery opened the car door, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Did I fall asleep? Why didn’t you wake me up?” Weston let go of my arm and smiled at her. “You looked like you were sleeping deeply. I figured I’d let you rest.” “My sorority went to an escape room today, and surprisingly, Weston was there too.” Avery walked over and looped her arm through mine. “He was just dropping me off on his way back.” She pointed at the chowder in my hands, her tone playfully coy. “It’s all because that seafood chowder was too good. I got a food coma on the ride back.” So he took Avery out to eat, and just grabbed this for me as an afterthought? “Avery’s stomach was acting up, so I took her to get some food,” he explained, noticing my gaze. “Yeah.” I forced a smile. “Thanks. I’m going back upstairs.” “Harper, wait a sec.” Avery gripped my elbow tightly, stopping me from leaving. Instead of looking at me, she turned to Weston. “Can I get your Snapchat or number? I need to Venmo you for tonight.” I followed her gaze and looked at Weston. The plastic handles of the takeout bag were digging red indents into my fingers. He gave a nonchalant smile and said, “Sure.” But right before he said it, he looked directly at me. Avery finally let go of my arm to add him on her phone. Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. “You guys take your time chatting,” I said. Then, I walked upstairs without looking back. 2 Avery pulled back my bed curtain. “Harper, you don’t mind, right?” “Then again, it’s not like you’re his girlfriend anyway.” She was right. I had no right to mind. “Do you like Weston?” I asked bluntly. “Oh.” Her eyes darted away. “Not really. We were just heading the same way tonight.” “Why aren’t you eating the chowder?” She pointed at the soup I had abandoned on my desk, sounding slightly offended. “We bought that specifically for you, you know.” “I’m not hungry.” I tried to pull my curtain shut, but she held onto it. “Harper, did you know Weston has a group chat with his frat brothers?” My hand froze. I didn’t know. “Mason is in that chat too.” Avery shoved her phone screen in my face. “He sent me these screenshots a few days ago.” I recognized Weston’s profile picture instantly. During the week he had a high fever, I skipped classes to take care of him. Once he recovered, I ended up catching a terrible flu. My bones ached so badly I couldn’t get out of bed. I texted him, begging him to drop off some soup for me. He never replied to me. Instead, he forwarded my barrage of texts to his group chat. The screenshot was entirely filled with my desperate messages to him. Weston: [Look at this simp.] Weston: [Even if she isn’t annoyed, I’m getting sick of it.] Weston: [Does she seriously think she’s my girlfriend?] The group chat erupted in mockery. Mason: [Lol, which number is this one this week?] AntiSimpBro: [This girl is trying way too hard.] AntiSimpBro: [You two clearly don’t match.] AntiSimpBro: [Does she seriously not realize she’s entirely out of your league?] AntiSimpBro: [Trying to guilt-trip you just because you’ve known each other a long time. Anyone got a picture? Let me see what she looks like.] Mason immediately sent a blurry photo. You could barely make out my features. AntiSimpBro: [Not bad, but she looks like a manipulator.] AntiSimpBro: [I wouldn’t touch her if you paid me.] Weston: [@Mason, where did you even get a picture of her?] Mason: [From a club event, I think. Forgot.] Weston: [Unsend it.] Mason: [The unsend window passed. Are you actually bothered?] The screenshots ended there. “It really seems like he doesn’t like you, Harper.” Avery pulled her phone back. “Take my advice: it’s better to have some self-awareness.” I looked at her. “Who is ‘AntiSimpBro’?” My sudden shift in focus caught her off guard. “Oh, him. That’s Weston’s roommate—Asher Reed.” “Do you have his contact?” “Yeah.” She hesitated. “Why do you want his contact?” Midnight. Someone occasionally tossed and turned in the dorm. I opened my phone, changed my lock screen password, and unpinned Weston from my messages. I added Asher on Snapchat. AntiSimpBro: [Who are you?] Me: [Harper.] AntiSimpBro: [?] AntiSimpBro: [Why did you add me?] AntiSimpBro: [If this is about Weston, forget it.] AntiSimpBro: [I’m not helping you.] Me: [It’s not.] AntiSimpBro: [Then what? I’m deleting you.] Me: [Asher, has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly special?] AntiSimpBro: [No.] Me: [In my eyes, you’re different from everyone else.] AntiSimpBro: [Look, lady, what do you actually want? Spit it out.] Me: [For years, my only goal in getting close to Weston was actually for one specific reason.] AntiSimpBro: [Because you’re obsessed with him?] Me: [To sleep with you.] The other side completely died. It was like his brain short-circuited for five solid minutes. The screen jumped back and forth between “Typing…” and silence. Right as I was about to fall asleep, my phone vibrated. Weston had sent an iMessage. [Sign my name for the 8 AM elective. Room 801.] He was so used to ordering me around. Like he was absolutely certain I would love him forever. 3 For our 8 AM elective, Avery and I were in the same class. To be precise, she only signed up for it because Weston was taking it. When I registered for the course, she hovered over my laptop, watching me closely. “Harper, were you actually texting Asher last night?” She looked me up and down. “It’s a shame he never posts selfies. I don’t even know what he looks like. But guys who never post pictures are usually pretty ugly. He probably looks like that.” She pointed randomly at a nerdy guy in the corner, then turned to me with a smirk. “Actually, you two would be a great match.” Right as Avery finished her sentence, a deep male voice spoke next to me. “Excuse me, can you scoot in?” Avery rolled her eyes, annoyed, but when she looked up and saw his face, her eyes lit up. He had an incredibly intimidating, towering presence, with sharp, deep-set eyes that practically radiated a do not approach aura. Even though there were plenty of empty seats, Avery immediately cleared space for him. Leaning across me, she tried to strike up a conversation. “Hey, are you taking this class too?” “Yeah.” He answered coldly, completely ignoring her. Instead, his eyes lingered on my face for an extra second. “What’s your name?” Avery asked sweetly. “The ugly one you were just talking about,” he said flatly. “Asher.” Avery’s jaw dropped. She quickly gathered her things and practically sprinted a few rows to the front, desperate to escape the blast zone. “Nice to finally meet you, Harper.” Asher pulled out his textbook and slammed it onto the narrow desk, right up against my notebook. He raised an eyebrow, looking ready for a fight. “What was it you said you wanted to do to me last night?” I smiled politely, slid my notebook away, and maintained my distance. He mimicked my smile mockingly. “I knew you were just using me to get a reaction out of Weston.” “Absolutely not.” I denied it three times in a row. A look of contempt crossed his face. “You really think you’re worthy?” “Weston is never going to fall for a girl whose entire personality is desperately chasing boys.” “Furthermore, I’m a man of principles.” His sharp jawline tensed, his tone absolute. “Do you honestly think your cheap manipulation tactics would work on me?” “Is that right?” I asked. The attendance sheet was passed to me. I skipped Weston’s name and only signed my own. When I handed the clipboard to Asher, my fingers accidentally brushed against his hand. He flinched like a startled cat, pulling his hand back as if I carried a plague, radiating massive single-guy energy. “You…” He cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you sign Weston’s name?” He was acting like the righteous moral judge of Weston’s love life. Too bad for him, I fully intended to drag him down into the mud with me. “Because you’re sitting right next to me now!” I gave him a bright smile. He completely avoided eye contact, staring rigidly at the chalkboard. “Here, borrow my pen,” I said. He snatched it frantically and forged Weston’s signature, looking visibly panicked. His handwriting was actually really nice. “Your name isn’t on the roster,” I said, tilting my head to look straight into his eyes. “So, did you come here specifically to see me?” He instantly went on the defensive, drawing a hard line. “I came here to warn you!” “Oh.” I held my hand out. “Can I have my pen back?” The pen in his hand seemed to burn him like a hot potato. He shoved it back to me. I held the pen gently in both hands, examining it like a priceless artifact. “What are you doing?” He couldn’t resist asking. “This is the very first pen we’ve ever shared. I’m going to lock it in a safe.” I spoke with utter sincerity. The moment the bell rang, Asher bolted from the room without looking back. I dropped the smile, packed my bag slowly, and stopped by the podium on my way out. Handing the attendance sheet to the professor, I noticed him searching for a pen. “Here, Professor, you can keep this one. I have plenty.” Walking out of the building, I leaned against the brick wall and pulled out my phone. I switched to a burner Snapchat account, styling the bitmoji to look like a guy, and added Asher. AntiSimpBro: [Who are you?] There was a heavy dose of paranoid defense in his words that wasn’t there last night. DogTrainer: [8 AM class. Room 801. I got a picture of you secretly holding hands with Harper.] AntiSimpBro: [?] AntiSimpBro: [Our hands literally just brushed!] AntiSimpBro: [I swear to God, it was an accident! Well, she did it on purpose, but I didn’t! Whatever, I didn’t do it!] A few minutes passed. AntiSimpBro: [How much money do you want to delete it?] He instantly sent $100 via Apple Pay. I didn’t accept it. DogTrainer: [You and Weston have a group chat?] AntiSimpBro: [How do you know that?] DogTrainer: [Add me.] AntiSimpBro: [It’s our frat chat. Why do you want in?] DogTrainer: [Because I have a massive crush on Weston.] I pulled the wildest excuse out of thin air. AntiSimpBro: [Aren’t you a dude?] DogTrainer: [Got a problem with that?] He added me to the chat. Then he DM’d me again to reiterate. AntiSimpBro: [Make sure you delete that photo.] AntiSimpBro: [I would literally rather die than hold her hand.] I didn’t reply. I switched back to my main account. As soon as it loaded, texts from Weston popped up. Weston: [Did you sign my name?] Weston: [Wanna go camping this weekend?] Before I could even type a response, a text from Avery came through. Avery: [Weston just invited me camping! Do you think I should say yes?] Weston was always like this. He invited someone else first, then invited me. I was his eternal, fail-safe backup plan. But this time, I wanted him to taste his own medicine. 4 For the weekend camping trip, everyone was from Weston’s circle. Avery shoved past me and claimed the passenger seat of Weston’s SUV. “Sorry, Harper. I’m just used to riding in Weston’s car. I get carsick in anyone else’s.” The back seats were already packed. Weston looked at me. “Why don’t you ride in Asher’s car?” “Yeah, you guys can chat,” Avery winked at me from the window. “After all, you were desperate enough to add him in the middle of the night.” “You added him?” Weston zeroed in on the keyword. Mason, sitting in the back, laughed and looked at me. “What’s wrong, did you change your target, freshman?” Weston’s expression subtly shifted. But it only lasted a second. He quickly reverted to his usual untouchable, arrogant demeanor. He smirked and yelled toward the other car, “Asher, I’m leaving her in your hands!” Then he slammed the passenger door shut for Avery, completely cutting off any chance of me riding with him. “As a friend, don’t say I never hooked you up,” he muttered to me under his breath. With that, he shoved me toward Asher’s car. But Asher, standing by his door, completely rejected the idea. “Sorry. My car doesn’t take female strangers.” He gave me zero face. The entire group burst into laughter. I was the outcast no one wanted to drive, left standing awkwardly in the middle of the parking lot. Avery laughed the loudest. “What are you laughing at?” Asher snapped at her. “You aren’t allowed in either.” Avery’s smile vanished. Flustered and embarrassed, she shot back, “Who said I wanted to ride in your car anyway?” “Oh, just the fact that you practically sprinted to steal shotgun,” he exposed her bluntly. Mason stepped in to defuse the situation. He gave up his seat in the back of Weston’s car for me and hopped into Asher’s passenger seat. On the highway, Avery and Weston were laughing and chatting in the front seats. When the cars pulled over at a rest stop, the bro group chat started blowing up. Mason: [Weston, stop bullying the freshman just because she’s obsessed with you.] Mason: [You know exactly what kind of guy she likes, why are you throwing her at Asher?] Weston and Asher were polar opposites. One was a seasoned playboy treating the world like his playground; the other was an arrogant, isolated cynic who shot straight from the hip. No one in their right mind would ever pair me and Asher together. DogTrainer: [Harper and Asher are literal soulmates.] AntiSimpBro: [?] Mason: [Who is this guy? When did he get added?] DogTrainer was removed from the group by AntiSimpBro. Asher immediately DM’d my burner account. AntiSimpBro: [Try talking that garbage one more time.] DogTrainer: [I still have the picture of you guys holding hands.] I looked up toward the driver’s seat of the other car. Asher was staring at his phone, his face completely expressionless. His jawline was sharp, and the messy hair falling over his forehead couldn’t hide the icy glare in his eyes. Looking at him, you would never guess he was currently spamming my DMs with stickers of a cartoon dog crying on its knees begging for mercy. AntiSimpBro: [Bro. My guy. Everyone makes mistakes.] AntiSimpBro: [Give me some face here.] AntiSimpBro invited DogTrainer to the group. AntiSimpBro: [Lol, he’s a nobody. Just some dude.] AntiSimpBro: [He gets a kick out of stirring up drama between me and Weston.] Mason: [Your usernames actually match pretty well.] Mason: [Don’t worry, literally no one would believe him.] Mason: [Soulmates, lmaoooo. She’d fall for Avery before she’d fall for you, bro.] AntiSimpBro: […] Weston walked out of the rest stop convenience store and handed a plastic bag of snacks to Avery. “Omg, thank you Weston!” She looked thrilled, digging through the bag and pulling out a mango juice. “That one’s for Harper.” Weston effortlessly snatched the mango juice out of her hand and tossed it directly into my lap. “It’s the only flavor she drinks.” Avery’s face froze. She forced a stiff, awkward smile. “Yeah, I was actually just grabbing it to hand to her.” She shot me a dirty look, then poked Weston’s arm. “Weston, look at the group chat, it’s hilarious. Asher added some random comedian.” Weston raised an eyebrow, swiped through the messages on his phone, smirked, and dismissed it entirely. As the car started moving again, Avery turned around and whispered to me, “It’s such a shame you aren’t in the chat. You have no idea what we’re all laughing at.”

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He says I’m a pathological liar. Just like my mother, always faking illness and playing the victim to beg for sympathy. On my eighteenth birthday, I called him, my voice trembling with desperation: “Please, just show up this once. If you don’t, I will die.” His voice on the other end was icy and indifferent: “So you’ve learned to threaten me now? Then go ahead and die.” The line went dead. I smiled, my heart entirely hollowed out. The mechanical chime of the System echoed in my mind: [Mission failed. Host termination sequence initiating—] I died on the day of my eighteenth birthday. And yet, that very billionaire CEO—the man who despised his eldest son more than anyone else in the world—went completely insane. 01. I was a Tasker. I transmigrated into this world when the boy, Ethan Brooks, was only six years old. The System told me that my only mission was simple: get my father to spend just one birthday with me, and the task would be complete. At first, I thought nothing could be easier. In the mirror, my six-year-old self had a chubby, adorable face with bright, innocent eyes. Whenever neighbors or sweet old ladies passed by on the street, they couldn’t help but stop to hug me. “What a precious little boy. His parents must absolutely treasure him.” But I soon discovered the brutal truth. The person who hated me most in this entire world was my own father. 02. Marcus Brooks was forced to marry my mother. Back then, he was the golden heir to the Brooks Conglomerate, deeply in love with his college sweetheart—a struggling, low-tier Hollywood actress. My grandfather was furious. He despised the entertainment industry and forced Marcus to break off the relationship, ordering him home to accept an arranged marriage. The match chosen for him was my mother, Clara. Marcus originally intended to just go through the motions to appease my grandfather. But Clara loved him. She loved him desperately, to the point of madness. She had carried a secret crush on Marcus for years. She pursued him relentlessly, crying for him, going on hunger strikes, and even resorting to self-harm. Marcus felt suffocated by the sheer weight of her obsession. Eventually, Clara became pregnant. Under the crushing pressure from both my grandfather and the public eye, Marcus finally married her. They spent six incredibly cold months in matrimony. Six months later, Clara passed away while giving birth to me. Whether it was during the grueling hours of her fatal labor or the somber days of her funeral, Marcus never once showed up. Three months after she passed, he finally returned to the estate. The nanny carried me out and placed me right in front of him. He cast a brief, sweeping glance over my face, leaving behind a single, freezing sentence. “He looks exactly like Clara.” Then he turned and walked away without a shred of lingering warmth. 03. By the time I was six, I had already learned to be fiercely independent. During an art class at school, the teacher asked us to draw “My Family.” In my drawing, there was only myself and Mrs. Gable, our nanny. The teacher bent down and asked, “Where is your daddy, Ethan?” “Daddy lives inside the television.” “And where is your mommy?” “Mommy is up in heaven.” The teacher went silent for a long time. She gently patted my head, then walked into the main office to call Marcus. “Mr. Brooks, next Tuesday is our Parent-Teacher Open Day. Would it be possible for you to come in and talk about Ethan?” I overheard her call from outside the door, and a tiny spark of anticipation flared up in my chest. Next Tuesday also happened to be my birthday. If Daddy came to school, it would count as him spending my birthday with me. When Tuesday arrived, I started waiting from noon. I waited through one class period after another. By the time the final bell rang and school dismissed, a sleek, black Maybach finally rolled through the school gates. My eyes widened with hopeful excitement. But the person who stepped out of the luxury vehicle was a sharp-looking man in a tailored suit—Marcus’s executive assistant. “Mr. Brooks asked me to hand this over to you, ma’am,” the assistant said, sliding a high-end gift basket and a premium store gift card into the teacher’s hands. “He also mentioned that the boy is inherently difficult and ill-mannered. He apologizes for any trouble Ethan might cause you.” The teacher let out a heavy, deep sigh. She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t true at all. I was incredibly well-behaved. I had a gentle disposition and worked harder than anyone else in class. But the Maybach had already pulled a swift U-turn and sped away, as if sparing even a single second for me was a massive waste of their time. For the first time, I realized a cruel truth about parental love. It is either the easiest thing in the world to get, requiring absolutely no effort at all. Or, it is the hardest thing in the world to obtain, no matter how hard you try. 04. But I didn’t give up. At first, I thought that if Daddy realized I was a good kid, he would eventually grow to love me. So I pushed myself to the absolute limit in my studies. Every single semester, I made the Principal’s Honor Roll, and my academic certificates lined the walls of my bedroom. But it was completely useless. Whenever Mrs. Gable texted these achievements to Marcus, his inbox remained a graveyard of unread messages. Later on, some boys in my grade started bullying me. They cornered me on the playground, smirking maliciously. “You claim your dad is Marcus Brooks?” “What a pathetic liar. Look at yourself. You don’t look a single bit like the son of a billionaire CEO.” “Exactly! No one ever shows up for you on Parent-Teacher night. I bet you’re just some stray orphan!” A fight broke out. We slammed hard into the glass display cases lining the hallway near the gymnasium. The glass shattered into shards. One of the boys, completely blinded by rage, grabbed a jagged piece of glass and slashed it savagely across my forearm. … Lying in the hospital ward, I overheard the parents of those boys whispering in low, hurried voices outside. “I heard this kid is just an illegitimate nobody.” “We can just throw a few thousand dollars at him to settle this out of court.” “Why don’t we talk to the Board of Trustees and have him expelled? If he stays at this academy and starts spreading rumors, it’ll ruin our boy’s chances at the Ivy Leagues…” I sat frozen on the hospital bed, my expression entirely numb. Protecting one’s own child is a basic human instinct. I didn’t blame those parents for wanting to sacrifice me to secure their children’s futures. In fact, I felt a deep, aching envy toward those boys. Suddenly, the hushed whispers outside ceased entirely. In their place came a wave of pure panic: “M-Mr. Brooks?” Marcus had arrived at the very last moment. Behind him walked a team of cold, calculating lawyers, executive assistants, and a trembling, bowing school principal. “I understand completely, Mr. Brooks. This was a severe lapse in our security,” the principal stammered, sweat dripping down his face. “I will handle this with the utmost severity. The students responsible will be expelled immediately!” Marcus gave a curt, indifferent nod. Leaving his assistants and legal team outside to handle the paperwork, he pushed open the door to my room and stepped inside. My heart had never felt so warm. In that single moment, I genuinely believed the thick sheets of ice between Marcus and me were finally beginning to melt. “Daddy…” I choked out, my voice thick with tears. But in the next second, the words died instantly in my throat. Because I saw the look in Marcus’s eyes. They were completely, devastatingly cold. “Ethan Brooks, look at you. Quite the performer,” he said softly. “Are you trying to play the exact same cards your mother used to play?” It wasn’t until much later that the nanny told me the truth. Years ago, to win Marcus’s sympathy, Clara had hired thugs to harass her on the street, only to call him sobbing in terror. “How much did you pay those classmates of yours to get them to put on this little show for you?” Marcus’s dark, fathomless eyes bored into me, filled with merciless scrutiny. I felt the blood in my veins freeze solid in an instant. “I didn’t do it.” “Don’t lie to me, Ethan.” “I really didn’t do it!!” I broke down crying, entirely unable to prove my innocence, crushed under the weight of my own helplessness. Marcus stared down at me with profound disappointment for a long moment, then lowered his voice. “I genuinely thought you would turn out different from her.” “But it seems you are becoming more like her every single day.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the room. The principal hurried to keep up with his pace. Completely unaware of the conversation that had just occurred inside, he began pouring praise over me to impress Marcus. “I had no idea Ethan was your son, Mr. Brooks! No wonder he’s so remarkable. He takes right after you.” “He tops the class in every single exam, and his essays are beautifully written. His prose actually shares a striking resemblance to the articles you published back in your Ivy League days…” Marcus’s footsteps paused slightly. But then, he let out a bitter, low chuckle. “What a waste.” With that, his footsteps resumed, growing fainter and fainter until they vanished down the corridor. 05. The years bled into one another, and I grew older. Every single year, I tried every method imaginable to beg Marcus to spend my birthday with me. A few times, I came incredibly close to succeeding. But in the end, Marcus never showed up. He would instruct his assistant to deliver gifts to me—each one more lavish and expensive than the last—alongside a custom, thousand-dollar designer cake. Perhaps, in front of the public eye, he still needed to maintain the facade of a dutiful father. But he himself never stepped foot near me. He detested me. He believed I inherited Clara’s manipulative traits and was rotten to the core. When I studied hard and excelled, he thought I was putting on a calculated act. When I was hospitalized with a dangerously high fever, he assumed I was faking illness to beg for attention. No matter what I did, it was always wrong. Eventually, Mrs. Gable grew too old and retired, leaving me completely alone in the apartment. Whenever I grew exhausted from studying, I would turn on the television. On the screen, Marcus and his wife, Madeline, were taking their younger son, Leo, onto a popular celebrity family reality show. Madeline was his first love. After my grandfather passed away, Marcus had finally gotten exactly what he wanted and married her. He poured massive resources into backing her career, transforming the once low-tier actress into an A-list Hollywood star with millions of adoring fans. When the three of them appeared together on screen—the handsome, billionaire father, the stunningly beautiful mother, and the lively, charming son—it was picture-perfect. It really was beautiful. I felt genuinely happy for Leo. He had the most blissful family in the world. And Leo truly was happy. Even though Marcus managed a global conglomerate, he always carved out time to help Leo with his homework, build Lego sets with him, and shoot hoops in their private basketball court. The live stream comments rolled across the screen in endless waves: [Mr. Brooks is literally the best dad in the world.] [I’m so jealous, I wish I had a father like him.] I smiled faintly and switched off the TV. Tomorrow would be my eighteenth birthday. This was my absolute last chance. If I failed to complete the mission, I would be permanently erased by the System. I picked up my phone and dialed Marcus’s number. I called repeatedly, but he never picked up. Left with no choice, I pressed down to record a voicemail. “Daddy, please, I’m begging you. A legal adulthood birthday only happens once in a lifetime.” “Since I was a kid, you’ve never shown up for a single birthday. Just this once… just be here with me this once, okay?” “If you don’t… I will really die…” A long time passed before a voice message notification popped up on my screen. My fingers trembled violently as I tapped to play it. Marcus’s voice came through, dripping with icy sarcasm and mockery. “So you’ve learned to threaten me now?” “Then go ahead and die.” 06. The birthday candles burned down to the very wick. The tiny flames flickered one last time, then died out, plunging the room into darkness. I used a plastic fork to scoop a bit of the frosting from the cake and placed it in my mouth. It was sweet, light, and airy, like a cloud. But I could taste nothing but bitterness. [Host, time is almost up.] The clock was rapidly ticking toward midnight. On my social media feed, a new post from Marcus popped up. It was a picture of Leo smiling brightly under the sun at an exclusive golf country club. The caption was brief, but it couldn’t hide the overwhelming adoration: “Out on the green with Leo today. The boy’s swing is improving incredibly fast. So proud of him.” I stared at it for a moment, then took a picture of my lonely birthday cake and posted a status update of my own. “No matter what, thank you for everything.” “Not every parent loves their child, but every child is born loving their parents.” “I will love you forever. And goodbye, Daddy.” The clock finally struck twelve midnight. Still wearing my paper birthday hat, I quietly stopped breathing. My soul drifted out of my physical form, floating gently into the air. Outside the window lay the sparkling lights of a sprawling city; inside, my body gradually grew cold in the lonely darkness. I asked the System, “Why haven’t I left yet?” The deep, resonant mechanical voice replied, [Because right now, this is not the end.] As if confirming the System’s words. Ten minutes later, a heavy pounding echoed at the front door. There was no answer. The only person who could open the door was currently lying breathless on the sofa. The knocking grew faster, louder, and more frantic. “Ethan Brooks!” Finally, I heard Marcus’s voice. “Open the door. I know you’re inside.”

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