Category: English

The upper circles had an unwritten rule. The spouse at home had to implicitly allow their partner to keep lovers outside. I used to think such matters were purely a matter of conscience. Until Damian’s young mistress came calling. She had an innocent, naive look, standing before me. It took her a lot of courage to finally speak: “Although I know this isn’t right, Damian says he loves me, and I love him too.” “I know this sounds despicable, but it’s for your own good. I know the rules in your circle. Please, get a divorce. I’ll make sure he gives you a large sum of money as compensation.” She bowed ninety degrees to me. I suddenly found it very amusing and asked her, “Do you know that between Damian and me, he is the one I keep as my trophy boyfriend?” … “Did Damian ever tell you that the villa you live in, and the luxury car you drive, are all mine?” Seraphina’s lips moved twice, but no sound came out. The courage she had just shown, the kind that throws caution to the wind for true love, quickly vanished, leaving only panic and disbelief. “Apparently not,” I said, casually stirring my coffee. I continued, “If Damian and I divorce, everything he owns and everything he gave you will be taken back. Do you still think your love is so grand?” When Damian returned, the young woman’s face was crimson from my words. He immediately stepped forward to shield her, his eyes filled with a wariness I didn’t recognize. I asked him what this meant. He merely held Seraphina’s hand and said to me, “She’s not like the people in your circle. Don’t make things difficult for her.” My hand, holding the coffee cup, trembled for a moment. Suppressing the rising discomfort in my heart, I tilted my head to look at him. “What if I insist on making things difficult?” His gaze fell on the table behind me. I followed his gaze and saw a box full of pearls. As a meticulously cultivated heir of an upper-class family, I was never short of various high-quality men around me. Similarly, my excellence allowed me to stabilize a vast business conglomerate without needing an arranged marriage. Back then, I was always quite playful and kept many trophy boyfriends. Damian was just one of them. When I first met him, he was still a university student. Unlike those men who only cared about money with me, every time he obsessively sought my affirmation of love. He would cook me a nourishing porridge after my business dinners. I had low blood sugar, so he always carried a chocolate bar with him. One year when I was in a car accident, he knelt for three thousand steps at a temple, praying for a safety charm for me. I looked at his swollen forehead and raw knees and asked him, “Why are you so good to me?” Because at that time, I hadn’t given him much money. He said, “I love you, so I wish you well.” “It would be even better if you could love me a little, too.” Perhaps touched by his sincere affection, I dismissed all the other men around me and gave him official status. On our wedding day, he gave me a box of pearls, which weren’t particularly exquisite. He said, “I don’t have many possessions. This box of pearls was personally retrieved by me from the water. Each one is a piece of my true heart.” “Since you chose me, you mustn’t disappoint me. If you make me sad, I’ll take a pearl. When all the pearls are gone, I’ll leave you and never come back.” At the time, I only found his sincerity and innocence endearing. To reciprocate his feelings, I promised him I would never make him sad. So, all these years later, that box of pearls remains full. Not a single pearl has been taken. Damian walked over and grabbed a handful of pearls from the box. The once full box instantly lost a third of its contents. Perhaps the surprise in my eyes was too obvious, making him think his intimidation had worked. “You hurt my heart today. You should think about it.” After the two left. I sat on the sofa, staring blankly at the box of pearls. The already inexpensive pearls, after years, had long lost their original luster, becoming dull and yellow. Just like Damian’s love, which had turned sour. Before leaving, Damian said, “Don’t make things difficult for young, beautiful girls just because you’re old.” Upon reflection, Damian’s change of heart had been evident for a while. We hadn’t been intimate for a long time. I was thirty-two, an age when desires are still present. But every time I saw a hint of resistance in Damian’s expression, I merely assumed he was tired from work and didn’t press him. It turned out he was saving his energy for someone else. That girl was indeed young and beautiful. I looked at myself in the mirror; in my thirties, I was still radiant, looking as young as someone in their twenties. My entire demeanor exuded the elegance and beauty accumulated by wealth. I wasn’t even a bit inferior to the actresses on TV. I tossed my slightly curled hair. I called a friend. “That young actor you mentioned last time, arrange a meeting for me.” My friend’s laughter came through the phone. “I really thought you were going to stick with that boy toy for life.” “Everyone in our circle has a few on the side. Only you were willing to be faithful to him.” I used to believe that loyalty was the most fundamental principle for a partner. So, in all these years of marriage with Damian, no matter what people outside said, I never had anyone else. “Why the sudden change of heart?” “I just find him rather uninteresting. Don’t want to waste any more time.” “Is one not enough then? Old place tonight. I’ll find you a few more, you can pick.” “Alright.” After hanging up, I had my personal makeup artist give me a head-to-toe makeover, then left the house. In a private room at the Pinnacle Hotel, eight young, handsome men stood. My friend sat beside me, signaling to them, “Hurry up and attend to her. If you get noticed by Ms. Thompson, you’ll be set for life.” The men instantly crowded around me, asking if I needed anything. To be honest, it felt quite good. After three rounds of drinks, I went to the restroom. Passing the private room next door, the door was slightly ajar, and I heard Damian’s voice from inside. His friend asked him, “Your wife is a rich woman, after all. You don’t come home for days, aren’t you afraid she’ll dump you?” “I don’t want to go back and smell her old-lady smell. If you like it, you go smell it.” “I don’t want to. Who would be attracted to an old woman?” “But, you’re relying on her after all…” “What are you talking about? My buddy Damian has that old woman wrapped around his finger. Has she ever found anyone else all these years?” Damian, toying with a discolored pearl in his hand, said, “It’s fine. She’s most afraid of me leaving her.” “She used to have plenty of people around her, but ever since I pulled that countdown stunt with this box of pearls, she’s chased all those men away.” “Damian is awesome. A box of cheap pearls made a rich woman devoted to him.” He slung an arm around Seraphina next to him. “She’s in her thirties now, past her prime. She’s not the pretty sister she used to be. If she keeps making a fuss, I’ll disappear, make her go through hell to get me back, and see if she regrets it.” When I returned to the private room. I sent a message to my secretary. I told her to cancel all of Damian’s credit cards. Spending my money while slandering me with his hangers-on? There’s no such thing as a free lunch. “So, anyone you like?” I finally looked up, carefully scrutinizing the men before me, then pointed to the one in the middle. “You, come here. The others can leave.” The moment I finished speaking, my assistant pulled several stacks of cash from her bag and handed them over. “Ms. Thompson doesn’t like her private life being discussed.” They took the money and left joyfully. “He’s the young actor I told you about. He’s twenty this year, his name is Ethan, just starting out, absolutely clean.” I waved him over. Ethan walked to my side, and I reached out to touch his abs. Very firm, very useful. “Feed me.” My friend discreetly left. He held a shrimp in his mouth, leaned down towards me, his breath filled with youthful pheromones. Damian was right about one thing. When there are younger people, who would want to stay with an old thing? “Please, love me.” “Good boy.” That night, I didn’t stop until dawn, relishing the experience. So much so that I missed Damian’s barrage of calls. This kind of experience was something the 28-year-old Damian could no longer give me. He was old, it was time for a change. As I left, I left behind a card and a phone number. “I’m very satisfied. Let’s keep in touch.” Ethan’s eyes, as he took the bank card, sparkled with excitement and satisfaction. See? As long as I had money, I could find anyone I wanted. Refreshed after a night of pleasure, my complexion was exceptionally good today. At work, my secretary even complimented me on how beautiful I looked and asked me to recommend a beauty salon. Perhaps because of my good mood, the workday felt unusually easy today. This good mood lasted until I came home that evening. In the villa, Damian sat on the living room sofa, his face contorted in anger. I thought he had found out about me seeing other men. But he questioned me, “Why did you have my credit cards stopped? Do you know how embarrassed I was yesterday when I couldn’t pay for dinner with my friends?” “So? What does that have to do with me?” “Rose Thompson, are you making a fuss with me because of Seraphina? She’s just a little sister to me.” “Damian, do you believe that yourself?” “Don’t you dare act like you like to play around outside and assume everyone else is the same. Your accusing me like this just shows you want to go out and play again, doesn’t it?” “Your circle is always so disgusting. You’re not clean yourselves, so you assume everyone else is the same.” I truly never imagined he could be so shameless. If he had openly admitted to having a mistress, at most I would have thought he was a useless moocher who couldn’t even manage his sugar mommy. But he actually shifted all the blame onto me, making me feel utterly disgusted. He grabbed another large handful of pearls from the box. “You’re not young anymore. No one else will love you like I do. Take care of yourself.” Looking at the pearl box, which was now mostly empty, I curved my lips. “Suit yourself.” Seeing my indifference, Damian became somewhat exasperated. “Rose Thompson, you’ve truly hurt me today.” “I won’t be coming home for a while. When you realize your mistake, I’ll return.” Although I never understood where his confidence for arguing with me came from, perhaps he thought a woman over thirty would be anxious about love? Did he believe that my indulgence over the years made him think he had complete control over me? But I still stepped aside from the doorway. “Please do.” During Damian’s absence, he would occasionally return. He told me to buy a car for his girlfriend as an apology, and when I refused, he would come back and take some pearls. He spotted a villa and asked me to buy it for him. When I didn’t pay, he would return and take more pearls. Back and forth, the once full box was left with only a few scattered pearls. In truth, I was quite curious: if all the pearls were gone, would Damian truly leave voluntarily? Thinking this, I had my lawyer draft a divorce agreement. My assets were too vast, and a divorce would take a long time, but my only demand was that he leave with nothing. I had just finished my call with the lawyer when I saw a message from Ethan. “Cartier’s gala invited me. Will you be there?” I asked my assistant, and indeed, Cartier had sent me an invitation. Normally, I wouldn’t attend such sales-driven galas, but I hadn’t seen Ethan for days, and I missed his body. So I replied, “Yes.”

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My husband resented our arranged marriage. For three years, he’d never even seen me. Then, he was drugged, and his secretary asked me to help him out. After it was done. He didn’t recognize me and offered me half a million dollars as compensation. My eyes lit up. I felt like I’d found the secret to getting rich. I put all my effort into seducing him. Until he finally decided to keep me as his trophy girlfriend. He said: “Never fall in love with me. It’s impossible for me to love you, much less marry you.” Then, he pressed down on my hand as I reached for his bathrobe. “Hold on, I need to get a divorce first.” The next second, his call rang on my cell phone. 1 Due to a small life-saving favor, my father arranged for me to marry Elias Blackwood, a man of immense wealth. Little did I know, Elias utterly disdained both my father and me. Though he paid my father a hundred million dollars as a dowry, he stipulated that the marriage would be dissolved after three years. And on the day we registered our marriage, he only sent his secretary, Mr. Jones, with the documents. After that, Elias worked abroad. I always thought our marriage would be nothing more than a formality. But just two months before the divorce, Mr. Jones called me to meet Elias at a hotel. I assumed it was important business. Upon entering the hotel room, Elias burst out of the bathroom, his breathing ragged, his voice strained and furious. “I didn’t order a… companion!” “Get out of here in five seconds!” I froze on the spot. First, because of what he said. Second, because of how he looked. His handsome face was flushed, his eyes glistening, the narrow corners red as if painted with rouge. He was drenched, his white shirt clinging tightly to his skin, revealing a faint outline of his muscular abs. He looked like a dangerously alluring male siren. With my extensive experience watching dramas, I realized he had been drugged. I stepped forward and asked, “Can you… handle it?” “If not, I can take you to the hospital.” “Don’t do anything reckless.” Elias looked like he was in extreme agony, his breathing growing heavier with each gasp. I thought about calling Mr. Jones. But he suddenly changed his mind, pushing me against the wall, gripping my neck, and lowering his head to kiss me forcefully. My eyes widened instantly. I hit his scorching body with my hands. “Calm down, calm down! Don’t do this!” He caught my hands, his voice hoarse. “Help me. Whatever compensation you want afterward, I’ll give it to you.” With that, a torrential kiss descended, forceful and possessive… 2 I woke up the next day, and Elias wasn’t in bed. My entire body felt like it had been run over by a truck, aching so much I couldn’t straighten my back. As I got dressed and walked out, I saw him. He was wearing a white bathrobe, sitting on the living room sofa, his posture languid and sated. Our eyes met. Shameful images from last night flashed through my mind. My face instantly heated up, even the back of my neck felt scorching. Just as I was about to say something to break the awkward silence, Elias spoke first, his face emotionless. “I didn’t know it was your first time. You can ask for more compensation.” I was stunned. Compensation for sleeping with my own husband? Thinking about saving money to buy a house, I held up five fingers, silently indicating fifty thousand. A flicker of disdain crossed Elias’s eyes. He handed me his phone. “Enter your card number yourself.” As I typed, I cursed him in my head: Always trying to act generous with money, but when it comes to actually giving it, he looks at me like I’m trash. Later, as he was filling in the name, he asked, “What’s your name?” I froze again. “You don’t know me?” Elias countered, “Should I know you?” I was speechless. On reflection, he hadn’t seen me in nearly three years of marriage. I struggled to suppress a laugh. “Jade Parker. Just Jade Parker.” “Here’s five hundred thousand. Make sure you keep this quiet.” “Huh?” “Is there a problem?” I hadn’t expected him not to recognize me even after I said my name. And I certainly hadn’t expected to get five hundred thousand for sleeping with him! Staring at the deposit notification on my phone, I thought, If I could sleep with him a few more times, wouldn’t I strike it rich? My mind raced, and I smiled faintly. “No problem.” “But if you ever find yourself in this situation again, you can always call me.” Elias’s face instantly darkened. He called Mr. Jones in and instructed him, “Take her to a pharmacy. Watch her swallow the morning-after pill.” Then he warned me, “Don’t ever appear before me again.” Mr. Jones’s eyes widened like saucers. He hesitated, saying, “Boss, you…” Fearing Mr. Jones would reveal my identity and disrupt my plan to get rich, I immediately cut him off. I grabbed his arm and pulled him out. “Don’t say anything. Just take me to buy the medicine.” 3 Outside the hotel, Mr. Jones asked, “Did you and the boss have a fight?” Once I confirmed no one was around, I lowered my voice. “He didn’t recognize me. He thought I was a call girl.” Mr. Jones looked surprised, then quickly understood and tried to comfort me. I smiled indifferently. “Just promise to keep it a secret for me. If he ever needs ‘special services’ again, you can keep calling me.” Mr. Jones looked mortified. “The boss is usually cold and aloof, he never messes around with women. This time, he was drugged at a party. If I hadn’t taken the liberty of contacting you, he would have endured it alone.” I was surprised. Elias’s antics with me didn’t seem like the actions of an abstinent man. But hearing that he generally kept to himself made me feel strangely pleased. “And he’ll eventually find out who you are. Isn’t it bad to keep this from him?” “Bad? This is great! It’s his fault for not recognizing me.” Then I said pitifully, “I was raised in the countryside, unloved by my father, ignored by my mother.” “I thought marriage would end my tragic fate, but your boss hasn’t given me a single penny. I’m worse off with him than without him.” “Just pity me, let me make some money off him. When the marriage contract is dissolved in two months, I’ll be gone, no strings attached.” Perhaps moved by my tragic story, Mr. Jones sighed. “Alright, but if the boss finds out the truth, you have to keep my name out of it.” I patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I won’t get you into trouble. Now, let’s go buy the pills.” “Are you really going to take them?” “Of course. I don’t even like him, and we’re getting divorced soon. It would be a huge hassle if I got pregnant.” 4 From then on, I longed for Elias to be drugged again. After a week with no results, I even suggested that Mr. Jones drug him. Mr. Jones refused, saying the person who drugged Elias last time had their tendons severed. So, I changed my approach. I got Elias’s preferences, schedule, and other details from him. I was determined to seduce Elias into keeping me as his trophy girlfriend. As luck would have it. The day I went to the bar to “accidentally” run into Elias. I saw him fighting with several men. Bystanders said a beautiful woman had taken a fancy to him, and after he rejected her, she got angry and hired people to teach him a lesson. I guess I’m just too kind. When one of the men pulled out a knife and ambushed him from behind, I rushed forward and wrapped my arms around him. “Watch out!” Elias was unharmed. But I was stabbed in my left arm. Elias turned, looking at me in surprise. When he saw my arm bleeding, a flame ignited in his eyes. He cursed, “You’re asking for it,” and kicked the knife-wielding man away. At that moment, security guards restrained the other troublemakers. The manager also rushed over, bowing and scraping to Elias, apologizing profusely. Elias didn’t even glance at him, quickly picking me up and carrying me to his car. After getting stitches at the hospital. He looked at me, his voice serious. “Why were you there?” Huh? Was he suspecting I was following him? “I was just out having fun.” “Why did you shield me?” My mind raced, and I decided to make the most of the situation, my voice shy and demure. “Once a couple, always a kindness. I couldn’t bear to see you get hurt.” A vein pulsed in Elias’s forehead. “It was a transaction. There’s no such thing as a couple’s kindness.” “But you were my first man. It’s hard for me to forget you, you know.” Elias’s ears turned slightly red, his voice a little unnatural. “I’ll transfer five hundred thousand for your injury. From now on, when we meet, pretend not to know me, and don’t interfere in my business.” “Oh, okay…” As if. After he finished the transfer and put away his phone, I suddenly felt my arm injury was well worth it, and a smile involuntarily curved my lips. Elias’s gaze sharpened. “What are you smiling at?” “Oh? Just thinking you’re handsome and generous, a really, really good person.” “Can I add you on social media?” “Why?” “I got hurt for you, didn’t I? When I’m better, I’ll let you know, so you can rest easy.” In reality, I wanted to showcase my positive and vibrant life, to make my presence known to him. Elias scoffed, his sharp gaze seemingly seeing through my little scheme. “Don’t harbor any fantasies about me. I have no interest in you.” “Oh.” If he didn’t want to add me, fine. I had Mr. Jones as my informant anyway. I got up and started to leave. Elias extended his long arm, holding his phone out to me. “What?” “Didn’t you want to add me? Take it and do it yourself.” It was… quite unexpected. I took his phone and added my burner account. I felt like I was one step closer to striking it rich. 5 I had intended to recover from my injury before approaching Elias again. But three days later, my father asked me to deliver a business proposal to Elias for his review. He even offered me fifty thousand dollars as a reward for running the errand. For the sake of the money, I went. That evening, after arriving at the restaurant where Elias was conducting business. I had Mr. Jones deliver the proposal to Elias. While waiting for Mr. Jones to reply, I sat on a flowerbed downstairs, chewing the gum my father had given me. My father placed great importance on this meeting between Elias and me. He had not only hired someone to style me but had even gone as far as to arrange for my oral care. After about ten minutes, I started to feel increasingly warm and uncomfortable. I called Mr. Jones, wanting to ask if he was done. As soon as the call connected, I heard Elias scoff. “Someone like Mr. Smith, who would sell his own daughter for profit, isn’t fit to partner with Blackwood Industries.” “From now on, if he or his daughter try to contact me, don’t let them through. “Lest he think his daughter is some precious treasure to me, to be sold off again and again.” Mr. Jones replied, “Understood,” before asking me, “What’s up?” My throat was dry, my face flushed, my body so hot that my blood felt like it was boiling, as if it would burst through my veins at any moment. A sudden realization hit me: my father wanted me to consummate the marriage with Elias, and the gum he gave me was actually an aphrodisiac. Thinking that Elias and I were married and had already slept together, I asked Mr. Jones to hand the phone to Elias. “I’ve been drugged with something. Can you… help me, like I helped you?”

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After ten years of marriage, my husband entered a “sensitive period for order.” I picked up a piece of food with his chopsticks, and he saw it, rising to get a new pair from the kitchen. His discarded pajamas were off-limits to me; they could only go to a specific dry cleaner. Our bed was divided in half—pillows, blankets, even the direction of my breath couldn’t cross the boundary. Today, he didn’t touch the breakfast I’d prepared again. The toast was golden-brown, the fried egg perfectly runny, just how he liked it, and the milk was warmed to fifty degrees. But he didn’t even glance at it before leaving for work. I noticed he’d forgotten a contract and hurried after him, only to find his new secretary waiting for him in the basement. She brazenly popped a half-eaten bun into his mouth, and he, indulgent, ate it. A sudden realization struck me. Only children aged two or three have a “sensitive period for order.” For adults, this is called physiological aversion. 1 The underground parking garage was quiet. The young woman chattered animatedly, brimming with an enviable vitality. Jim didn’t speak, but he naturally swallowed the half-eaten bun. The atmosphere was impossibly warm. I was very good at disrupting such atmospheres. “You haven’t eaten pastries in a long time.” I was calmer than I expected. Before Jim could formulate a response, the young woman bounced out. She stuck out her tongue, a mischievous, impish look on her face. “It’s all my fault! I bought the wrong buns today, so…” “I wasn’t asking you.” My voice was soft, but it instantly brought tears to the young woman’s eyes. Jim’s smile vanished, and he instinctively stepped in front of her. “Willow, it’s not what you think.” He sighed, reaching out to take my hand. I instinctively recoiled, and he froze, then casually withdrew his hand. “Beth lives nearby, so she just catches a ride with me to the office. You used to live in a rental too, you know how tough the commute can be.” Yes, back then, we only had one beat-up scooter, all year round. In summer, the seat got scorching hot, unbearable at first. In winter, the cold wind was biting, our breath condensing into white mist. Jim’s voice was carried away by the wind: “Willow, I promise I’ll work hard to buy a car so you won’t have to suffer the wind and sun again.” Actually, he was colder standing in front of me than I was. I looked at his reddened ears and gently placed my hand over them. “It’s not hard. As long as I have you, it’s not hard.” Later, he bought a car. But I never rode in it again. 2 A wave of bitterness washed over me. I blinked, trying to mask my momentary lapse. “Don’t be so tense, I just came to drop off a contract.” Seeing the contract in my hand, Jim visibly, though subtly, let out a breath of relief. “Willow, don’t worry. She’s just my secretary.” He solemnly reassured me, his eyes seemingly holding the familiar affection I remembered. But only I knew, it was different now. I dug my nails into my palm, a sarcastic smirk on my lips. “I never knew bosses needed to pick up and drop off their secretaries daily now.” The young woman behind him lowered her head, looking somewhat embarrassed. Seemingly not expecting me to persist, Jim fiddled with his car keys, his tone somewhat annoyed. “Willow, you don’t need to be so harsh on a young woman.” Harsh? It felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over my head. All those words of accusation were now stuck in my throat, swallowed down with the bitterness. “Just kidding.” I forced a lighthearted laugh. “If others don’t find it funny, it’s not a joke. Apologize.” I stared at Jim, stunned. Once upon a time, he would stand before me just like this, refusing to let me suffer even the slightest wrong. I tried to find a shadow of regret on his face. But I found nothing. Jim just gazed steadily at me, his authoritative stance unmistakable. Not wanting the scene to become any more awkward, I finally spoke: “I’m sorry.” Jim seemed satisfied with my understanding and tact, not hesitating to offer me some small recompense. “Good girl. I’ll have dinner with you tonight.” He spoke from a position of superiority, treating dinner at home as a reward for me. In the past, I might have secretly delighted in it. But now, I simply twitched my lips. “As you wish.” Jim didn’t seem to notice my attitude. He checked his watch and turned to leave. The young woman stayed very close to him, practically following in his footsteps. Then, she skillfully got into the passenger seat. I stood rooted to the spot, silently watching their car. The car slowly drove out of the parking garage. The silence was absolute. I touched my face. Turns out, I couldn’t even shed tears anymore. 3 Something had been wrong between Jim and me for a long time. In the beginning, he simply didn’t hold me after intimacy. “I don’t know why, but I just don’t feel the same way with you as I used to.” He frowned, seemingly frustrated himself. I was distraught, only wanting to salvage things, so the next time we were intimate, I proactively wore a provocative outfit. He was surprised, and he was passionate. It felt like we were back to how we used to be. But it didn’t last. The next time I put on the outfit, he said, “Are you that eager? It makes me feel like I’m completing a task.” I didn’t speak, just quietly went to the bathroom and changed. In the mirror, I looked at my body, tears streaming endlessly. From then on, we stopped being intimate. He seemed relieved. I comforted myself, telling myself it was normal. After all, we were an old married couple. But I didn’t expect that was just the beginning. He said we’d been together too long and needed some space. “Willow, I see you as family now.” Jim said he still loved me. I accepted it, and so I quietly accepted all his rules. I couldn’t touch his pajamas, and at night, we could sleep with our backs to each other. But when I used his chopsticks to pick up a dish and he immediately reached for a new pair, I still cried. After we married, I didn’t cry often. The time before last, I cried tears of joy on the day we got our marriage license. That day, Jim had gently kissed away my tears: “Willow, I love everything about you.” Now, he found the chopsticks I had used too dirty. I cried heartbrokenly, and Jim just watched me coldly from the side. It wasn’t until my voice was hoarse that he finally asked, “Cried enough? If you have, go get some sleep.” 4 His composure made me feel like a madwoman. I began searching online for reasons. It wasn’t until I read about the “sensitive period for order” that I felt some relief. It’s normal, I told myself. He just lacked a sense of security and wanted to maintain his own order. I clung to this hope, intending to patiently see him through this period, back to how things used to be. But I had forgotten. The “sensitive period for order” only appears in young children. Jim could eat a bun bitten by someone else; his “order” was directed only at me. Jim loathed me. It was an uncontrollable, physiological aversion. Jim didn’t come home for dinner tonight either. On the dining table, the same sandwich from this morning still sat there. I numbly put it in my mouth. The cold, runny egg was fishy, and the milk had formed a skin. I instinctively retched, rushing to the bathroom, throwing up until I felt dizzy. I don’t know how long it was before I heard a familiar voice from the doorway. “Sorry, Willow, something at work held me up.” Jim was carrying a bag from my favorite pineapple cake shop. Since he’d hurt his stomach drinking and couldn’t eat pastries, I hadn’t had them in a long time either. Seeing my gaze fixed on the bag, Jim managed a faint smile. “I queued for a long time. Eat it while it’s warm.” The familiar scent and packaging brought me back to when we were newly married. Back then, we still lived in a rented room. Next month’s rent was still uncertain, and I was too sick to get out of bed. Jim worked tirelessly, even taking a part-time job delivering food at night. The landlady was kind, often bringing us food and drinks. That night, just after she’d brought a box of pineapple cakes, I received a call from the hospital. Jim had hit an old woman while riding his scooter. I forced myself to gather all our money and went to the hospital. It was only 836 dollars—a drop in the ocean. I looked at the desperate Jim and knelt before the other family. “Whatever our responsibility, we won’t shirk it. We’ll write an IOU and pay it back. Please, don’t hold him accountable.” Seeing our pitiful state, they sighed and waved us off. At the hospital’s back entrance, Jim and I cried in each other’s arms. Penniless, we ate that box of pineapple cakes for three days. Without that faint sweetness, we wouldn’t have recovered so quickly. Thinking of this, a sliver of hope rose in me again. Was Jim apologizing for this morning? Perhaps things weren’t as bad as I thought. I instinctively reached out to take the bag, then my gaze froze. On the takeaway bag was a strand of hair—light brown, medium length, just like the secretary’s. They had eaten dinner together. My hand trembling, I opened the bag. There were only three cakes inside. “Why is one missing?” I tried to sound casual. Jim’s expression became unnatural. “It smelled too good, so I tasted one. Didn’t you also say earlier that you can’t eat things that are too sweet now? I figured it would be a waste if it wasn’t eaten, so…” Seeing Jim making excuses, I suddenly found it incredibly uninteresting. “Then take the rest to her too.” Jim’s brows furrowed tightly, his face filled with irritation. “What’s wrong with you now? She can’t even eat one piece?” He didn’t understand; this was never about one piece of pastry. He had shared our sweetness with someone else. I closed my eyes, finally unable to endure it any longer. “No. I don’t like it anymore.” Jim gazed steadily at me. “I’ll ask you one last time. Are you going to eat it?” “No.” Before I finished speaking, Jim directly threw the entire box of pineapple cakes into the trash can. “Fine, if you won’t eat it, then it’s gone.” The scent of pineapple cakes still lingered in the air. But now, as our eyes met, only exhaustion remained. “I’ve been working all day; I’m really tired.” Jim ran a hand through his hair and kicked the trash can. “If you want to have a good life, can you please stop causing trouble?” I looked into his eyes, and the aversion he felt for me was so obvious. “Am I the one causing trouble?” I spoke, only to find my voice hoarse. “You’ve been off for a long time.” “What’s wrong with me?” Jim scoffed. “I told you I love you. I would never cheat. Can you not be so suspicious all the time?” I looked at Jim, finding his face genuinely open and honest. I suddenly felt utterly drained, physically and mentally. “It’s not only sleeping together that counts as cheating.” Jim sneered. “Ultimately, you just think I haven’t touched you, don’t you?” He suddenly walked closer, grabbing my wrist directly. “Then let’s do it. You’ll be satisfied once we’ve done it.” With that, he dragged me towards the bedroom. “Slap!” The next second, a crisp slap echoed across Jim’s face. He looked at me, bewildered. The last shred of delusion in my heart also vanished at this moment. “Do you think you’re the only one who finds this relationship disgusting?” In Jim’s incredulous eyes, I finally spoke my mind: “I’ve had enough too.” “Jim, let’s get a divorce.”

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The night Annabelle sent out her wedding invitations, I died unnoticed in a corner. She wore an exquisite gown, poised and graceful. Beside her, Liam, the groom, tucked a strand of her hair back, his gaze filled with unwavering devotion. The banquet was crowded with far more distinguished guests than when we were engaged. Liam scanned the room, then casually asked, “Didn’t you invite your close friends? The ones you’re always with?” “They didn’t show today—did you have a falling out?” He finished with a knowing half-smile. “Surely they don’t dislike me?” Annabelle’s face briefly clouded before she forced a smile. “I’ll call them.” Call after call went to voicemail. Liam’s smile faded. Those friends, though exclusive, were fiercely loyal. On such an important day, he’d expected at least a token appearance. And there I stood, openly beside Annabelle—her legitimate boyfriend, as always. But no one could see me. On stage, I saw only the silhouettes of the perfect couple: Annabelle and Liam. I finally saw the signs I’d missed in Liam from the start. He playfully pulled out his phone, screen paused on our chat. [Asher, what’s ten years?] [I always get the woman I want.] [My wedding with Annabelle is in seven days. Dare you come?] I looked down. It was more than a taunt—the malice had always been there. But by the time I understood, it was too late. I could have shown up, but he wouldn’t have seen me. Because I was already dead. The banquet ended. Liam and Annabelle, still tangled together, made their way to the car and tumbled into the back seat. The driver, accustomed to such scenes, raised the partition and started the engine. Liam leaned his face close to Annabelle’s, his liquor-laced breath hot on her skin. Annabelle giggled, turning her face away, then pecked his cheek. “You drank so much.” His voice softened, sounding endearingly docile and childish. “Don’t you dare find me repulsive!” Annabelle chuckled, tugging on Liam’s collar and bringing her lips to his. What followed was a long, suffocating kiss. I suddenly felt the air grow impossibly stifling. I moved through the car and sat on the roof, watching their intimate dance. The summer night wind couldn’t warm my icy soul. Flirting and feigning vulnerability. That was exactly the type of man Annabelle disliked most. In the past, when I occasionally showed her weakness or dependence, she would only say, “A man should act like a man. Don’t be like that; it gives me goosebumps.” By the time I came to my senses, they had already reached their destination. As they entered the villa, an invisible force tugged at me, compelling me to follow. Annabelle, upon entering, casually kicked off her heels by the shoe rack and poured herself a glass of hot water. Liam followed closely, wrapping his arms around her slender waist. “Annabelle, I’m scared…” Scared? Not just Annabelle, even I looked at him, utterly astonished. Since I’d known him, I had never once seen the word “scared” in his words or actions. Annabelle turned, revealing her collar, which had been pulled low due to the warm weather, a generous expanse of skin exposed to the man. “Scared of what?” Annabelle pressed tightly against him, allowing Liam to unzip the back of her dress. “Scared Asher will change his mind.” “Scared you’ll leave me.” “Scared I can’t truly have you.” Annabelle replied without hesitation: “He won’t. Asher won’t change his mind.” Annabelle’s certainty left me in a daze. Once, when we were most in love, Annabelle was just as certain. She said, “Never. This lifetime, I, Annabelle, will only love Asher.” That day, I believed the person I would spend the rest of my life with would definitely be her. Annabelle and I were middle school desk mates, high school classmates, college sweethearts, and then co-founders of a company—sixteen years. We got engaged when our company was well on its way. If nothing went wrong, we should have been married this year. But in our sixteenth year of knowing each other, our tenth year of love, Annabelle changed. When did Annabelle start to change? Probably when she stopped sending me messages to check on me, probably when she sat across from me, glued to her phone, unable to suppress the smile on her lips, probably when she started sending Liam good morning and good night texts every day. Hearts, they change in an instant. So when we broke up, she took all the blame, completely absolving that seemingly distinguished man. I granted her wish and didn’t reveal the evidence of Liam’s later provocations. Initially, when Liam first appeared, I didn’t think much of it. A wealthy business partner’s illegitimate son, looking to gain some experience at our company. To secure that deal, Annabelle came to me for my opinion. She suggested arranging for Liam to be an assistant, doing mundane tasks like serving tea and water, just to humor a young master, making sure he wouldn’t interfere with the company’s core business. I believed her. But I never imagined Annabelle would make Liam her personal assistant, and he remained so for a whole year. And Annabelle, using every possible excuse, convinced me to go abroad to expand the market, where I stayed for another year. When I returned, Annabelle was the future Mrs. Dalton everyone spoke of. I was Annabelle’s ex-boyfriend. Before I could confront Annabelle, she sought me out. She pushed a resignation letter across the table to me, along with a share transfer agreement. “Asher, we once said that if one day we met someone who stirred our hearts more, we would part amicably.” “You remember, right?” When Annabelle and Liam tumbled into the bedroom, I hid in the living room. Thank goodness. Annabelle and I could still maintain a small distance, sparing me from witnessing those dirty, disgusting scenes firsthand. Although Liam had already sent me videos and photos of them. Annabelle’s phone lay on the living room floor, vibrating incessantly. I moved closer; the number displayed on the screen was mine. My mind felt as if it had exploded, and I froze in shock. My fingertips trembled imperceptibly, and the moments before my death played out frame by frame before my eyes. Terror, helplessness. I remembered, I had died an undignified death. After agreeing to Annabelle’s breakup terms, I left the company. Liam found me, wanting to talk. What was there to talk about? I looked at him, but he just scoffed, “Aren’t you curious why I chose Annabelle?” “Why?” I asked, following his lead. Liam took me to a coffee shop near the company. “I just wanted to see how deep Annabelle’s feelings for you were. Turns out, not much.” I didn’t want to waste words with him. But as I stepped out, I was grabbed by several men and shoved into a van. The car bumped along, from the city to the suburbs, from daylight to nightfall. Until the mountain wind howled, and jagged branches scraped my exposed arms. “Liam sent you?” I asked, forcing myself to sound calm. The four men before me were emaciated, their eyes sunken, emitting a peculiar stench. The one in charge took a long drag from his cigarette, looking at me like a lamb to the slaughter. My heart pounded like a drum, but I still desperately sought a way out. “I don’t have any money on me. Let me go, whatever they’re paying you, I’ll double it.” This earned me a chorus of harsh laughter. Their violent faces presaged my impending doom. “Kid, learn your lesson in the next life. Don’t mess with the wrong people.” My knees were shattered by an iron bar, my knuckles crushed by a leather boot, and my face was swollen from repeated slaps. One of them sighed regretfully, “Too bad he’s not a chick; otherwise, we could have some fun.” Another chimed in crudely, “Look at that tender skin; does it matter if he’s a chick?” The first one retorted in disgust, “You think everyone’s like you, a pervert?” Listening to this conversation, my heart turned to ice. Later, someone stripped off my outer clothes. I used all my strength to bite off a piece of flesh, enraging that beast. And then my life, and my suffering, came to an end. Blood gushed onto the ground. When I opened my eyes again, I stood behind Annabelle, watching her hold Liam’s hand, announcing their wedding date. Counting the days, her wedding was on the seventh day after my death. One in the morning, Annabelle walked out wrapped in a bath towel. She picked up the phone from the sofa and, seeing the missed calls, her pupils contracted. I huddled on the sofa, trembling, my mind filled with the images of my death. Liam’s voice came from the bedroom: “Annabelle, what’s wrong?” Annabelle suppressed the emotion in her eyes, deleted the call log, and walked towards Liam, phone in hand, to embrace him. The seamless way she deleted the records reminded me vividly of how she used to be when I rarely returned home to see her years ago. In the early days of my time abroad, Annabelle would always video call me. She would complain about how much work there was at the company, and she’d playfully whine, wishing I were by her side. I’d respond while processing documents. “When did you become so clingy?” “Why are you whining and whimpering like that?” I thought I was just casually teasing her, but I hadn’t expected her face to turn instantly pale. It was only later that I realized. People who spend a long time together inadvertently begin to adopt similar ways of speaking. The next morning, Annabelle left Liam’s apartment. As she left, she gently kissed Liam’s face. “Sleep in, you don’t have to go to the office today.” I found it somewhat amusing. Annabelle used to be very particular about time. Rain or shine, she would always wake up on schedule and wouldn’t allow me to be idle, fearing it would delay the day’s work. For sixteen years, I had grown accustomed to her habits, the ones she made me adopt. But it turned out all her habits could be broken, and that exception was reserved for one particular person. I followed Annabelle to the company. My assistant of three years was pacing anxiously outside Annabelle’s office, clutching a contract. Seeing Annabelle, she spoke with urgency: “Ms. Xu, there was a problem with the contract Mr. Nan negotiated a few days ago during signing.” “The other party insists on meeting Mr. Nan before they’ll sign.” Annabelle glanced at the assistant, seemingly not taking it too seriously, but rather said as if it were obvious, “Then call Asher; he’ll go.” The assistant looked at Annabelle with some embarrassment; her phone receiver only delivered repeated unanswerable tones. Perhaps there were too many unanswered calls, for Annabelle’s brow furrowed deeper, and the contract she was reviewing was slammed onto the table with force. “How long have you been calling?” “You haven’t gotten through since this morning?” Annabelle’s gaze swept to the little assistant standing to the side, impatience written plainly on her face. The assistant flinched slightly, “Yes, Ms. Xu.” I stood by the desk, a little surprised why my phone wouldn’t connect. Clearly, last night, my phone had called Annabelle’s. Annabelle probably thought I was doing it on purpose. I pressed my lips together, sketching a self-mocking smile, and idly scanned the contracts casually strewn across the desk. Many of the clauses in the contract had been changed. Completely different from the terms I had negotiated. Liam’s doing. After all, he had taken my place. Annabelle didn’t speak for a long time, staring intently at her phone screen. On the screen was her chat interface with me; she had sent me a message two minutes ago, “Call me back ASAP.” Annabelle’s jaw was tight, simmering with an anger ready to erupt. Until her best friend, Stella, called her: “Annabelle, Asher he…” “Asher isn’t at the company.” “I’m looking for him too.” “If you get in touch with him, tell him to come to the company as soon as possible.” Stella’s words were cut off by Annabelle. Without waiting for a response from the other end, Annabelle quickly hung up and walked into the conference room. I was pulled along by Annabelle’s swift steps, but a faint, hollow ache resonated in my chest. Annabelle had hung up too quickly. As a result, I desperately wanted to know what Stella had been trying to say, but had no way of knowing. Was she going to say I was missing, or had she already known about my death? How humiliating, such a disgusting way to die. The conference room was silent. I had been negotiating that deal for nearly half a month, and Annabelle broke up with me just as it was about to be finalized. Many people said Annabelle was ditching me after using me. Now, the millstone wouldn’t turn. When Stella arrived at the company, Annabelle was in a furious rage.

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I was the Peacock Princess. The year I came of age, every male peacock in the kingdom came seeking my hand. I distinctly chose Carbonell, a noble Green Peacock, yet the child I bore after marriage was a lowly White Peacock. Carbonell, seeing the White Peacock, flew into a rage. He snatched the infant, dashed it to its death, then threw me to be devoured by wild beasts. My sister, who had married a common Blue Peacock, bore a rare Violet Peacock. Her husband, in turn, became the new King of Birds. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day I chose Carbonell as my husband. Before everyone, he rejected me, asking for my sister’s hand instead. I knew then: he had also been reborn. He believed that by marrying my sister, he would father a Violet Peacock. But this time, he wouldn’t even produce the lowliest Black Peacock. … 1 After the Phoenix clan’s demise, we, the Peacocks, ascended as the new rulers of the avian world. Peacocks came in six colors: Obsidian, Violet, Green, Blue, White, and Black. Obsidian was the most mythical; for three million years, no one had seen one, leading many to doubt its existence. Violet Peacocks were exceedingly rare, appearing only once every hundred millennia. Thus, within the Peacock Kingdom, Green Peacocks were the most esteemed, and Black Peacocks the most lowly. In my father’s generation, he sired only female peacocks. To secure the succession, he was forced to seek a son-in-law from outside the royal family. He promised the throne to whoever’s child with his daughter proved to be the noblest peacock. I was Father’s most beloved youngest princess, and his only Green Peacock daughter. So, on my coming-of-age day, every eligible male in the realm gathered outside the palace gates, vying for my hand. After rigorous selection, I chose Carbonell, also a Green Peacock. Father was extremely pleased with Carbonell; he was exceptionally handsome, considered the Peacock Kingdom’s foremost gentleman, and Father’s ideal heir. Father immediately announced his approval of the match, setting a date for our wedding. “Your Majesty, I do not wish to marry Princess Willow. This time, I request to marry Princess Seraphina.” I had just been reborn. Carbonell had released my hand and taken a step back, bowing before Father. A collective gasp swept through the assembled crowd. Even Seraphina looked stunned, though a look of thinly veiled glee quickly spread across her face. Seraphina was ten years my senior and still unmarried. This was because my mother was Father’s only officially wedded Queen, while Seraphina’s mother had been a lady-in-waiting who’d used underhanded tactics to gain Father’s favor. Thus, although Seraphina was also Father’s daughter, few truly treated her as a princess, and no one was willing to marry her. Everyone was perplexed as to why Carbonell, a noble Green Peacock, would choose an ordinary Blue Peacock. Only I knew that Carbonell, too, had been reborn. He chose Seraphina because, in our past life, Seraphina had married a Blue Peacock but had surprisingly borne a rare Violet Peacock. Meanwhile, I had given him a low-tier White Peacock. Faced with Carbonell’s choice, Father’s face darkened. “Nonsense! This is Willow’s royal courtship. If you wish to court Seraphina, you may approach me privately. You came to participate in the selection of a suitor, and Willow chose you, yet you scorn her. Where does that leave my daughter’s honor?” Father, advanced in years, valued his reputation above all else. Carbonell’s actions were undeniably a public slap in the face. Carbonell immediately knelt. “Your Majesty, it is not that I scorn Princess Willow, but because Princess Willow is of ill character. She has concealed her true identity as a Black Peacock and deceived everyone!” He spoke with righteous indignation, pointing accusingly at me. The entire hall fell silent, disbelief etched on every face. “What nonsense are you spouting? My Willow is no Black Peacock!” Before Father could speak, Mother stepped forward. 2 “Oh? If Your Majesty the Queen is so certain, why not let Princess Willow reveal her true form? If Princess Willow is a Green Peacock, then I, Carbonell, will offer my life in atonement.” Carbonell looked at Mother with disdain. “If not, then Princess Willow should offer her life in atonement, how about that?” Mother’s face darkened, her brow furrowed. Father’s expression shifted from shock to suspicion, his face instantly grim. More than reputation, Father valued lineage. He was a Green Peacock, yet his other daughters were merely common Blue Peacocks. So, upon my birth, hearing that my peacock color was noble, he had showered all his affection upon me. Now, hearing Carbonell claim I was the lowest-ranked Black Peacock, he practically crushed the armrest of his chair. Mother remained speechless for a long moment. Carbonell’s expression morphed from disdain to smugness. “It’s just revealing your true form, surely that’s not difficult? Is the Queen’s hesitation because I’m correct?” Mother’s face grew even more distressed. Just as she was about to speak, I stepped directly in front of her, openly admitting, “I am indeed not a Green Peacock.” Mother cried out, “Willow, how could you?” Carbonell was forcing me to reveal my true form precisely because he knew I wasn’t a Green Peacock. In our past life, during childbirth, I had revealed my true form due to complications. That had shocked Carbonell. Because everyone believed I was Father’s only Green Peacock daughter, Carbonell had gone to great lengths to marry me. Peacock eggs match the peacock’s color, so after I laid a white egg, Carbonell was enraged. He not only smashed my egg but also slit the throat of my still-in-true-form self. Not only that, he then tossed my dying body into the back mountains, where numerous wild beasts tore me apart. “Good, good, good!” Carbonell laughed loudly, standing up and unfastening his ceremonial sword, throwing it at my feet. “Since you’ve admitted it, then Princess, please offer your life in atonement.” I said, “But I never claimed to be a Green Peacock. What crime have I committed?” When I was born, there were extraordinary phenomena in the sky. The entire Peacock Kingdom’s sky was filled with a rainbow of colors. Everyone said I was an auspicious omen. Only my mother, who bore me, knew that I was a dull, dark egg. She dismissed everyone and wrapped the egg in cloth. On the day I hatched, only she had seen my true form. From childhood, I had never claimed to be a Green Peacock. In my past life, before marrying Carbonell, I had sought him out and told him I was not actually a Green Peacock. At that time, Carbonell told me he didn’t mind; he loved me for who I was. I was touched by him and happily married him, fulfilling my duties as a wife after marriage. But it was only when I died that I learned. He had thought I was testing him, which was why he said those things. “Even if you never claimed to be a Green Peacock, you also never revealed your true form as a Black Peacock. You’ve enjoyed the royal family’s wealth and glory; this is deceiving the populace.” Although there was no law forbidding Black Peacocks from remaining in the royal family, ever since the third Peacock King, any Black Peacock appearing in the royal family would be banished. Just as I was about to say I wasn’t a Black Peacock either, Father spoke. “Enough, Carbonell. Since you wish to marry Seraphina, I shall grant you both a royal marriage.” Carbonell immediately knelt. “Thank Your Majesty. What about Princess Willow?” “Carbonell, this is my private family matter. How long do you intend to meddle?” Carbonell immediately understood Father’s meaning. “This subject is guilty.” Under everyone’s watchful eyes, Carbonell led Seraphina away. As she passed me, Seraphina gave me a meaningful glance. She whispered in my ear, “You have your comeuppance today.” 3 Back at the palace, Father erupted in a furious rage. He demanded to know why Mother and I had deceived him. Just as I was about to tell him that while I wasn’t a Green Peacock, I was certainly not a Black Peacock, Father waved his hand dismissively. “From today forward, I have no daughter named Willow. After Seraphina’s wedding next month, you are to leave the palace.” Father not only banished me but also placed Mother under house arrest. The news spread like wildfire, further solidifying my identity as a Black Peacock. In just one day, I went from being universally adored to universally scorned. My reputation plummeted, and naturally, no man would ever want to marry me. I accepted everything calmly. My days were spent either in my room or in the royal library. That afternoon, the weather was clear, the sun shining brightly. I called for a handmaiden and asked her to watch from below. I transformed into my true form and flew into the sky, momentarily eclipsing the sun. A few moments later, I landed and resumed my human form. “Princess, it’s just as you said! When you spread your wings, your entire body is a rainbow of colors, absolutely stunning!” The handmaiden praised profusely. “You truly are the most beautiful Black Peacock I’ve ever seen.” I smiled faintly. The handmaiden’s words confirmed my suspicion. Just as I was about to ask her to draw my true form, I heard a scoff. “A Black Peacock is still a Black Peacock. No matter how pretty, it’s still the lowest of the Peacock clan.” After the incident, my palace quarters were exceptionally quiet. Only she, it seemed, would bother to come and mock me. I looked up to see Seraphina, resplendent in elegant attire, standing at the doorway. Having caught the eye of Carbonell, the Peacock Kingdom’s foremost gentleman, Seraphina was basking in glory lately. Her clothing and daily provisions were even more luxurious than mine, the once-favored princess. She finally held her head high, parading her authority throughout the palace. I heard several handmaidens from her palace had mysteriously disappeared. “Little sister, how can you still have the nerve to stay in the palace? Father gave you a month’s grace out of respect for Mother. If you were sensible, you’d leave quickly and stop disgracing our royal family.” Seraphina had never liked me, even when I was a child. Only because she envied my favor. I sneered. “Why has my second sister come to my quarters? Are you looking for your handmaidens? Then you’ve come to the wrong place. They’re probably in the maw of the beasts in the back mountains. Aren’t you afraid their spirits will come to take you away if you wander carelessly?” Seraphina’s face paled, and she gritted her teeth. “What are you so proud of? You’re merely a cast-off of the royal family now, while I’m about to marry Carbonell. He’s the most noble Green Peacock, and he said that our union might produce an incredibly noble Violet Peacock.” I gave her a cold glance. “Is that so? Congratulations, congratulations. Then why don’t you hurry and go make babies with Carbonell? Though I should warn you, Carbonell doesn’t look like he can have children.” “How dare you slander my husband? You’re asking for death!” Seraphina raised her hand, aiming to strike me. But she had never been able to beat me in a fight since childhood. This time, she only managed to get hit. Before I could land a few blows, I was pulled away by a great force. Carbonell had appeared. “Who allowed you to bully Seraphina?” Seeing Carbonell, Seraphina instantly transformed into a delicate damsel, leaning into him, pointing at me and saying in a sickly sweet voice, “Carbonell, you’re finally here. She cursed me, saying I wouldn’t be able to bear your child.” “How could that be? You will definitely bear me a perfect Violet Peacock.” Carbonell gently caressed her face. “As for her, I doubt she’ll ever bear even a White Peacock in this lifetime.” Hearing that, I couldn’t help but let out a cynical “Ha!” “I wonder who won’t be able to bear children.” Carbonell’s face turned cold. Carbonell had a secret, known only to me. He was infertile. In my past life, when I learned this, I had wanted to say that having no children was fine; as long as we loved each other, nothing else mattered. Carbonell, however, didn’t see it that way. To secure the throne, he begged me to take the fertility herb, a plant that induces childbirth. That herb, once ingested, would consume one’s inner essence, draining all vital energy. That was why I revealed my true form during childbirth. Not only that, using this herb had severe side effects. Headaches and nausea were minor; the most unbearable symptom was an itch deep in the bones, no matter how much you scratched, it wouldn’t go away. Perhaps fearing I would reveal more, Carbonell quickly led Seraphina away. After they left, the handmaiden came out with the finished drawing. The moment I saw the portrait, my pupils dilated. This painting completely confirmed my suspicions. I had spent these past days in the royal library, poring over ancient texts. Old records stated that Obsidian Peacocks were inherently dark in color, but under sunlight, they displayed a rainbow of hues. An Obsidian Peacock, after consuming the fertility herb, would lay a white egg, and upon hatching, a violet phoenix would emerge. So, I was not a Black Peacock at all. I was the legendary Obsidian Peacock. And my egg was not a White Peacock, but a high-grade Violet Peacock. Because no one had ever seen an Obsidian Peacock, Carbonell simply didn’t recognize its true value. Knowing this, I told no one. Now, everyone condemned me, and even if I spoke, no one would believe me. To prove myself, I would have to lay an egg and hatch it. Who could I find to lay an egg with? My reputation was ruined; no decent peacock would ever mate with me. There was no choice. I had to buy a husband from the black market. After some careful choosing, I finally picked one that was pleasing to the eye. His appearance was remarkably striking, though he was, unfortunately, a multi-colored rooster. No matter. Ancient texts stated that an Obsidian Peacock could mate with any bird and still produce an auspicious offspring of Violet Peacock or higher. As long as my genes were involved, the child would be perfect. The first day I brought the man home, I started stripping his clothes. His ears were beet-red, and he clutched the ties of his clothes tightly. “Pr-princess, don’t we need to… cultivate some feelings before… doing this?” Cultivate feelings? How troublesome. I released my grip, smiling at him. “How do you think we should cultivate them?” “At-at least we should get to know each other first.” “Oh.” I sat back down. “My name is Willow. What’s yours?” “Zach.” Alright. Done getting to know each other, I immediately pounced. Time for business.

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1 Seven years after Jackson and I split, we met at the City Clerk’s office. He was picking up his marriage license; I was there for my divorce. Jackson smirked at me. “You went on about love when you cheated. Now you’re here getting divorced?” I replied calmly, “I’ve always been bad at judging people.” His face turned cold for a moment. Then he showed everyone my secondhand app and announced loudly: “Seven years married, and you’re still selling what I gave you — three million six hundred eighty thousand in total.” He snatched my divorce papers, checked the compensation, and sneered: “With the twenty‑five thousand eight hundred and seven cents from your ex, you still owe me three million six hundred fifty‑four thousand one hundred ninety‑nine dollars and seven cents.” “Why seven cents?” his new wife asked.“Discounted iced water,” he said. The crowd laughed at the so‑called gold‑digger’s humiliation. … “Trying to milk money from rich folks, eh? They’re way too shrewd to spend an extra cent on someone not worth it.” “That seven cents must be for her water on the way home, telling her to get lost, hahahaha.” I listened to the ridicule, feeling little ripple within. I silently scanned the code and transferred the money back to him. Still, a pang of disappointment lingered. My appointment for hospice care, it seemed, would have to be canceled. I dreaded pain, you see. The stares from the crowd were too intense, so I retreated to the restroom. The message I’d sent to my husband, Caleb, half an hour ago, remained unanswered. I sighed unconsciously. “He’s still not here?” Jackson’s voice suddenly echoed behind me, startling me. I instinctively recoiled a few steps, my too-thin back hitting the washbasin with a painful thud. Frowning, I tried to evade his probing gaze. “He’s busy. He’ll be a little late.” Jackson raised an eyebrow, proceeding to wash his hands. “Looks like your standards for boyfriends have really dropped.” He spoke with an air of indifference. I was speechless, unsure how to reply. It was true, when I was with Jackson, he never let me suffer the slightest inconvenience. If I wanted fruit, a mere glance from me would have him peeling and slicing it, serving it on a platter. If we had to walk a few extra steps on a date, he’d worry about my legs hurting, and without a second thought for the onlookers, he’d carry me. As for making me wait on a date, that was an absolute impossibility. “Well, the depth of love differs, so naturally, the tolerance varies too,” I retorted, though my fingers unconsciously sent another urgent message to Caleb, “Aren’t you coming? If not, we won’t get the papers today.” “Next time, I’m not sure I’ll even be able to make it to the office…” Before I could finish typing, a signed divorce agreement arrived from him. “Give it to the staff. They’ll handle it.” His words were curt, as if speaking more to me was a chore. Jackson saw it and scoffed, “Back then, you guarded him so fiercely, never letting me know his identity.” “Guess I won’t get to see him today either.” “Mr. Dalton, isn’t it a bit… unseemly for you to be so invested in another woman’s ex? Especially if your wife were to find out,” I said, pocketing my phone and feigning a carefree tone. I looked up to see Fiona, her face beaming. “It’s fine, really. Everyone enjoys seeing a trashy ex getting their just deserts, don’t they?” With that, she forcefully pushed me aside and wrapped her arm around Jackson’s waist. “Honey, you really shouldn’t have been so good to Ms. Annabelle, considering you were the best of her past boyfriends.” “Three million dollars isn’t even enough to buy the bag I’m carrying; it’s quite embarrassing to recall, isn’t it?” Jackson hugged Fiona back, saying softly, “Alright, let’s not bring up my past disgraces.” “Spending three million on someone undeserving, I’d say that’s already too much.” In the three years I dated Jackson, I never asked him for any gifts. But back then, Jackson, who was just starting his career, insisted, “No way. Our Annabelle must have everything other wealthy women have.” Yet now, he stood with another woman, demanding I repay him under the guise of being a gold-digger. “I’ve settled the debt. Since it’s a sore subject, I won’t linger.” I nodded slightly, ready to leave. But Fiona, with a faint smile, held me back. 2 “Annabelle, don’t be upset. Our Jack was also at fault for what happened back then.” “Blame him for being too naive, for being a poor judge of character. With me around, he won’t be tricked again.” “And I’d like to give Annabelle a chance to make amends. We haven’t even taken our wedding photo yet, and I hear Annabelle is an excellent photographer. Why don’t you take ours?” “Make amends?” My fists clenched in an instant. “Fiona, what right do you have to say that? You knew everything.” Fiona froze, seemingly surprised by my bluntness. “Knew what?” My bony hand was suddenly gripped by a large one. For a fleeting moment, I felt like I was back seven years ago, the moment Fiona pleaded with me to save Jackson. But when I looked up, I met Jackson’s bottomless eyes. He seemed surprised by how thin I had become and unconsciously loosened his grip. I snapped back to reality, pulled my hand free, and hid my unsightly hands. Under Fiona’s warning gaze, I smiled and replied, “You know I’m not just any photographer you can hire cheaply.” “My husband made a bad bet, so I naturally need to squeeze more money out of my ex-boyfriend. Ms. Fiona, since you’ve picked up my slack, you wouldn’t be stingy about paying a bit more, would you?” Jackson’s tense face suddenly crumbled, finally giving way to a sneer. “Annabelle, I really shouldn’t have held such unrealistic expectations for someone like you.” Hearing me say that, Fiona also breathed a sigh of relief and casually draped her arm over Jackson’s. Gently stroking Jackson’s back, she said, “There, there, don’t get angry over a woman like this. If she wants money, we’ll just consider it giving alms to a beggar.” Inside the photography studio, through the camera lens, I finally dared to truly look at Jackson. Thankfully, the surgery seemed to have left no lingering effects on him. The exquisitely tailored bespoke suit made him look dashing and distinguished, perhaps even more handsome than he was seven years ago. Suddenly, Jackson lifted Fiona’s veil, swept her into his arms, and gave her a deep, lingering kiss through the veil. My hands, holding the camera, trembled involuntarily, several times lifting and then dropping weakly. My breathing became unconsciously shallow and rapid. Jackson’s disgusted gaze landed on me, his voice laced with sarcasm: “Annabelle, what’s the act? You don’t think I’d still feel sorry for you, letting you snap a few shots and get away with it, do you?” “No, not at all. The customer is always right; it’s my fault.” I tried my best to steady my breath, using all my strength to balance both hands. That day, I took over a thousand photos in one afternoon, my hands shaking so much they didn’t feel like my own. But Jackson and Fiona picked and chose, always finding something unsatisfactory. It wasn’t until the City Clerk’s office was about to close that they reluctantly selected the very first picture I had taken. Hearing this, I almost coughed up blood. As I walked out of the City Clerk’s office, the heavens decided to unleash a torrential downpour. On the ride-sharing app, the number of cars waiting ahead was 99+. My winter boots, soaked from waiting, grew heavy and cold. Jackson’s Cayenne screeched to a halt in front of me, splashing cold water all over me. After a day of turmoil, I was practically collapsing. Fiona rolled down the window, feigning kindness. “Ms. Annabelle, do you need a ride? I can have my Jack drop you off.” Just as I was about to politely refuse, Fiona signaled the driver to push me into the passenger seat. The moment my foot touched the floor, I sensed something amiss. Looking down, I saw it was the scarf I had spent five months knitting for Jackson years ago. The pristine white scarf was now stained and dirty, clearly having been used as a floor mat for a long time. “This scarf, I think it was a gift from you to Jack, wasn’t it, Annabelle? I’m so sorry, Jack said he felt sick every time he saw it. I thought, well, we can’t waste your efforts, so I just used it as a footrest for guests. You don’t mind, do you, Annabelle?” I gave a faint smile. “Of course not. It’s perfectly fitting for useless things to be handled this way.” Jackson impatiently tapped the driver’s back, and the driver immediately accelerated sharply. All the blood rushed to my head in an instant; I felt so nauseous I nearly threw up. Jackson knew I got carsick; he was deliberately trying to get back at me. Midway, Fiona suddenly announced she wanted dessert from North End, and they simply abandoned me on the side of the road. I checked the map, and I was even farther from my destination. Finally, utterly exhausted, I made it back to my ex-husband’s villa in the suburbs, only to find that all my belongings had been packed and sent back to my parents’ house. I had no choice but to brave the rain and return home, but as I reached the doorstep, I saw my luggage piled like trash next to the bins. The housekeeper, who saw me first, said, “Ms. Annabelle, I’m so sorry, but this was the lady of the house’s (my mother’s) instruction. She said your brother is getting married, and your room will be used as a nursery, so you’ll have to move out.” I said nothing, silently picking up the light bag of luggage. But then, I ran straight into my mother who was leaving the house. She looked at me as if I were a plague, her face instantly twisting into an expression of disgust. “Useless thing! You get married and then returned like damaged goods, can’t even help your brother one bit.” “How did I ever give birth to such a loose woman? Jackson treated you so well back then, and you didn’t appreciate it. Now you’ve backed the wrong horse, haven’t you? And you’ve dragged our whole family down with you. Why don’t you just find a place to die somewhere? Why bother coming back?” With that, she grabbed a broom to hit me. Luckily, the housekeeper intervened, giving me a chance to escape. 3 I rented a small apartment near the publishing house I often worked with. Opening my suitcase, I found that over half the items were related to Jackson. There were the paper hearts he’d casually folded for me, candid photos I’d taken of him sleeping, and photos I’d secretly taken of his recovery progress after we’d broken up. There were also news clippings of his various career achievements that I’d collected over the years. Every time I saw these things, I felt that all my suffering had been worth it. The rent almost depleted all my savings. I could only manage one night’s rest before rushing to the publishing house the next day, hoping to inquire about the delayed payment for my new book. After marrying Caleb, he never spent a single penny on me. Writing and publishing books had been my only income these past years. But the moment I entered the publishing house, everyone cast strange glances my way. “That’s her, that’s her! She’s so materialistic, abandoned her boyfriend for money, and then beautified herself as a victim in her book. It’s truly disgusting.” “Not only did she not help her boyfriend when he was sick and bankrupt, she kicked him when he was down and ran off with a rich guy. Classy.” “Do you think she knows she’s offended Mr. Dalton, and still comes to our company because she thinks we’re stupid and easy to bully? How unlucky are we to get stuck with someone like her? Now all our projects are on hold. Oh my god, am I going to lose my job?” “Hah, she even wants to use our channels to clear her name. Honestly, some people’s shamelessness knows no bounds.” “Do you think she’s crying herself to sleep every night now, seeing how successful Mr. Dalton has become?” I’d grown accustomed to hearing such things over the years, so I didn’t pay much mind. I just hadn’t expected Jackson’s actions to be so swift, even implicating the publishing house, which made me feel a pang of guilt. Soon, the editor-in-chief called me into his office and handed me a revised copy of a book. I flipped through it; the general content was not much different from my original version. However, my character had changed. I was now portrayed as the cruel ex who heartlessly abandoned her boyfriend during his toughest times. Fiona, on the other hand, had become the woman who bravely stood by Jackson when his career was at its lowest and he was gravely ill, staying devotedly by his side until his resurgence. Even the author’s name was changed directly to Fiona. “This is my book! Why is it attributed to someone else? And by what right can someone else just casually revise it?” I glared angrily at the editor-in-chief, but he snatched the book from my hands. “Annabelle, get this straight: you were the one who deceived us first. Since it’s a story based on real events, why didn’t you tell us? Why did you hide the truth and twist the facts?” “Let me be frank with you. Your book is excellent, and it won a major literary award. But now Mr. Dalton’s wife wants that award, so you have to give it to her. This is the compensation you owe her, understand?” “And setting that aside, our publishing house needs to survive. In our past collaborations, when did we ever treat you unfairly? You can’t bite the hand that feeds you.” With things laid out so plainly, I knew further argument was pointless. Jackson’s influence was too vast; I couldn’t deny him what he wanted. Dejected, I returned home, still worried about how I’d manage living expenses, only to run into my brother at my doorstep. He was carrying a large bag of my favorite snacks. My relationship with my brother wasn’t particularly good, nor was it bad. Most of our conflicts stemmed from our mother’s unfairness. After entering the house and seeing the room I was staying in, my brother’s eyes welled up. “Sis, actually, Mom and Dad miss you a lot. They’re just stubborn.” “I’ve talked to them. Everyone wants you to come back for dinner on Christmas Eve. What family quarrel can’t be mended over a meal?” With that, he sent me a restaurant address, urging me to attend. Perhaps the impending death made me a little afraid, or maybe Christmas Eve was just too cold, but by some strange impulse, I went. Seeing Jackson, the groom, and Fiona, the bride, in the hotel banquet hall, I finally understood their intentions. My mother was using me to entertain Jackson and Fiona. No wonder I was doused with cold water the moment I entered the hotel. No wonder all three elevators in the hotel coincidentally broke down at the same time, forcing me to gasp and climb twenty-plus floors. 4 Gazing at the man surrounded by the crowd, my fingers clenched. He saw me too, a mocking smile on his face. “You came to my wedding dressed like that?” he said, looking at my soaked shirt and jeans. “What, trying to snag a rich husband at my wedding, too?” “Well, I suppose any man here today, if you latch onto him, would be enough to support you for the rest of your life. You’re certainly clever.” With that, he stuffed a wad of cash into my cleavage. “My wife needs a bridesmaid. Serve her well today, and I’ll give you three million six hundred eighty thousand.” Hearing that figure, my heart twisted in pain, uncontrollably. Three million six hundred eighty thousand—that was everything Jackson had invested in me back then. Now, he intended to return it this way. Taking several deep breaths, I forced back the tears and managed a smile. “Alright, but I’ll need payment upfront. I’m afraid Mr. Dalton might change his mind.” Jackson’s face twisted into an expression of extreme disgust. Gritting his teeth, he scanned the code. Then, with a snap of his fingers, a waiter brought out over a hundred bottles of hard liquor. Two days ago, during my check-up, the doctor said my condition was worsening faster than expected. After downing over 100 bottles of this alcohol, I wasn’t sure if I’d even make it through the night. But thinking of all these years of hardship, I felt death might actually be a release. Jackson, with Fiona in his arms, began to toast. Their friends knew the story of Jackson and me, and they knew how devastated he had been when I abandoned him. He refused treatment, wouldn’t take his medicine, and stood dumbly outside my house every day, demanding an explanation. On my wedding day, his mother, desperate, locked him up, but he smashed a glass window with his bare fists. When he appeared before me, he was covered in blood, but I didn’t even spare him a second glance, only telling him to get lost. Jackson’s friends loathed me, and they mercilessly forced drinks on me, even, at Fiona’s subtle nod, adding shards of glass to my wine glass. I drank until my mouth bled, and I threw up directly. Seeing this, Jackson’s gaze wavered. Just as he was about to speak, Fiona rushed over, steadying me. “That’s enough, all of you! Even though Annabelle betrayed Jack years ago, she’s suffered so terribly all these years that she’s received her retribution. You don’t need to kick her when she’s down.” As she said this, she made to help me up, but whispered in my ear, “Actually, Jack’s illness wasn’t a terminal disease at all. A simple surgery would have cured him. The heart you donated? I fed it to my dog that very day.” In that instant, all the humiliation and painful memories of these past years flooded my mind. My brain buzzed, and all my rationality collapsed. I lunged at Fiona like a madwoman, “Fiona, you deserve to die, you deserve to die!” But before I could even touch Fiona’s collar, Jackson brutally kicked me away. A sharp pain exploded in my ribs; I felt as if every bone in my body had shattered. Jackson held Fiona tightly in his arms, his face filled with anguished concern. Fiona, still shaken, whimpered, “Jack, I was just trying to help Annabelle. Why did she do this to me?” Jackson turned his head to look at me, his face so dark it seemed to drip ink. “Annabelle, you really are rotten to the core!” “Get down on your knees and apologize to Fiona.” When I didn’t move, he kicked my stomach hard, then grabbed my hair and yanked me up. “Don’t even think about leaving here alive until you’ve kowtowed 99 times!” His friends rushed in, forcing my head down, slamming it against the ground again and again. Finally, from sheer exhaustion, I passed out. Just before losing consciousness entirely, I saw my parents rushing towards me like madmen, not to check on my injuries, but to pick up the money that had fallen from my chest. Jackson froze, his gaze at me growing complicated. When the paramedics asked for the patient’s family, my parents and brother all denied knowing me. Jackson was about to say something, but a commotion broke out in the crowd. “The patient’s husband is here, everyone make way!” The moment he saw the man, Jackson’s pupils contracted sharply.

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My childhood friend and I joined a dating reality show, aiming to be the ultimate sloths, all for that juicy appearance fee. We’d burst into laughter during tasks, then argue while watching other couples. Even when the surprise guests arrived, we were still just munching on sunflower seeds, enjoying the drama. The next second, my friend’s face went white as he pointed at the big-shot socialite from the city’s elite circles: “Your ex-husband!” I, my hand trembling, pointed at the high-society heiress: “Your ex-wife!” We scrambled to the director, begging to quit. The director just smirked. “Ten times the penalty for breach of contract. Immediate payment.” As Mike and I exchanged a look, we knew. We’d fallen straight into a wolf’s den. 1 Mike and I, we were inseparable, practically grew up in the same sandbox. Our families always joked we were two peas in a pod, destined to cause trouble. Freshmen year of college, a photo of us went viral, and somehow, we tumbled into the entertainment industry. To avoid rumors, and for a ridiculous sense of pride, we agreed to act like strangers, vowing to meet at the top. Turns out, we never made it to the top. We rolled down halfway up the mountain. After years of struggling, we were still nobodies, ridiculed by netizens as “Wooden Beauty” and “Stone-Faced Hunk.” That wasn’t even the worst of it. On New Year’s Eve, with fireworks exploding overhead, we squatted on the curb, crying like heartbroken puppies. We’d both been dumped on the same day. Mike’s nose was running, and he snarled, “I’m never playing lapdog for that woman again!” I used his ridiculously expensive down jacket as a tissue to wipe my tears. “I broke up too! For real this time! Who wants to put up with such an arrogant man anyway? Let someone else do it!” We ended up stumbling home, dead drunk, leaning on each other. Sobering up, we were completely disillusioned. This rotten industry was unbearable. “Let’s just quit.” “Agreed!” Mike was quicker to respond than anyone. We were both graduates from prestigious universities; we weren’t worried about finding work. Just as I was about to contact a lawyer to send out my termination letter, my agent, Jenna, tossed a gig my way. A live-streamed dating show, its main selling point was being “wild.” “Willow, you’re taking this show whether you like it or not. You’re quitting anyway, so you might as well go be a cautionary tale. Be a little crazy, a little dramatic. Infamy is still fame, got it?” Why should I? I was leaving; why should I be a stepping stone for others? I’d just typed out, “Jenna, I’m done. Whoever wants this crap can have it…” when another message from Jenna popped up. “Ten million dollars for the appearance fee.” The finger hovering over the delete key instantly froze. Ten million? I quickly erased my text, replying demurely, “It’s not about the money.” Jenna: “Ten million per episode.” Hiss— I immediately replied, “Jenna, to be honest, I’m quite the wild card in my private life. This gig is perfect for me!” 2 After signing the contract, feeling utterly pleased, I opened my door and bumped right into Mike, who’d come over to scrounge for food. Our eyes met, and a strange, guilty air hung between us. Wait, I was guilty because I’d sold out for money, but what was he guilty about? My parents and Aunt Sarah were chatting animatedly. My mom’s eyes sparkled. “It’s finally happening? I knew those two kids had something going on!” Aunt Sarah was even more excited. “I’ve got the dowry ready; we can propose anytime!” Just as the conversation was veering towards grandchildren, Mike quickly interrupted. “Stop, stop, stop! Willow and I are talking work, purely work!” He dragged me onto the balcony and closed the door. Mike’s gaze darted around. “Uh, have you sent your termination letter yet?” I picked at my fingernails, stammering, “Not yet… I still have a mall appearance event to finish.” I couldn’t very well tell him I was going to a dating show to rake in cash, it would make me seem so spineless. Hearing that, Mike instantly straightened his back. “Coincidentally, I haven’t sent mine either. I still have a cameo to do in a movie.” We exchanged a look, both seeing “like hell you do” in the other’s eyes. But neither of us called the other out. This unspoken understanding stemmed from our shared best friend, Miles. Back in the day, Mike, Miles, and I were the ultimate trio. But since Mike and Miles often bickered, I became the double agent. In front of Mike, I’d denounce Miles: “That Miles is so stingy, let’s not hang out with him!” Mike, pleased, would give all his snacks to me. Then, turning to Miles, I’d sigh: “Actually, Mike’s quite pitiful, just don’t bother with him.” Miles, touched, would treat me to meals all over the city. Until one day, Miles treated me to crab, and Mike gave me two dried persimmons. That night, I ended up in the emergency room. The two “creditors” squared up at my bedside, and my double-agent scheme completely blew up. Miles sneered, “I’m stingy?” Mike gritted his teeth, “I’m pitiful?” I huddled under the blanket, shivering. “The doctor said all that, don’t blame me…” Now, bringing up old times, we both tacitly chose to keep quiet. 3 Three days later, on a secluded island, at the set of the dating show. I walked in a flowing red backless gown, teetering on stilettos, ready to make a grand exit from my showbiz career. According to the script, I was supposed to choose a male guest for a romantic encounter. But when I looked up, I saw Mike, looking absurdly dapper in a suit. The sea breeze ruffled through his hair as the cameras zoomed in frantically. The production team practically wanted to emblazon “FATED ROMANCE” across the screen. I pressed my lips together, desperately trying not to laugh. Mike’s cheeks puffed out, clearly holding back a giggle himself. The moment our fingertips touched, we both burst. “Hahahaha!” Our laughter startled the seagulls and utterly bewildered the viewers watching the live stream. “Are these two crazy?” “Didn’t they say they weren’t close? What’s with this level of synchronicity?” “Can I get a refund? I came here for sweet romance, not a comedy show!” We couldn’t care less. We found a corner and sat down, coasting along. On the surface, we were on our phones, but in reality, we were bombing Miles in our “Anti-Scumbag Alliance” group chat. Me: “Dr. Miles, quick, watch the live stream. How’s Mike and my acting?” Mike: “Miles, isn’t my suit cool?” Miles: “Get lost. I just got off surgery; I don’t have time to watch you two monkeys.” Me: “Don’t be so cold! How about we talk about that time you were chased by a goose as a kid?” Mike: “Or your heroic feat of throwing a firecracker into a cowpat?” Miles: “…It seems you two have really moved on, if you’re still in the mood to tease me.” With that one sentence, the group chat instantly went silent. That familiar pang in my chest returned. Just then, the show provided red wine, and Mike and I drank it down like water, glass after glass. Once the alcohol kicked in, our chatter was unstoppable. We completely forgot about the dozens of hidden cameras around us. Mike’s eyes were red, his voice choked. “Willow, do you think she never loved me? I was so obedient, so good. If she said east, I’d never go west, but she still dumped me.” I banged on the table, even more agitated than him. “What’s that compared to? My ex was the real piece of work! He always had a cold face, like I owed him eight hundred thousand dollars. If I so much as glanced at someone else, he’d accuse me of being unfaithful. Even my breathing was wrong!” The live stream exploded. “Holy crap! Is this paid content?!” “Who are these two nobodies’ exes? This sounds so juicy!” “Mike’s crying makes me want to wipe his tears. Such a puppy!” “Willow’s mouth is amazing, this is genuine!” Just as we were about to drop more bombshells, Miles’s call came through. The ringing was jarring, instantly snapping us awake. Miles roared on the other end of the line, “You two! Do you want to be blacklisted tomorrow?! That’s a live stream! A live stream!” Mike and I exchanged a look, cold sweat instantly breaking out. I gave a dry laugh, giving a thumbs-up to the camera. “Mr. Thompson’s line delivery is amazing! What do you all think of that impromptu performance?” Mike immediately caught on, chiming in, “Ms. Davies isn’t bad either, full of emotion and clearly layered! Come on, let’s continue to discuss that script…” 4 After that night of “madness,” Mike and I actually became popular. Netizens were speculating about who our awful exes could possibly be. We, however, weren’t worried at all. Those two big shots, one a high-and-mighty business tycoon, the other an arrogant heiress from a prominent family, how could they stoop to appear on an entertainment show like this? Unless the sun rose from the west. The next day, the sun shone brightly. Mike and I each grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds, squatting in the shade, watching the other guests flirt. “Look at that innocent girl. Her eyes are practically melting. She must have a thing for that movie star.” “Give me a break, that’s acting. I bet fifty cents the movie star likes the sophisticated lady.” The comment section was filled with laughter. “Are these two here to be commentators?” “Never seen such down-to-earth celebrities, I love them.” “They’re like the old folks at the village entrance.” Just as we were engrossed in our snacking, the director’s megaphone blared. “Attention all guests, two mystery guests will be arriving on the island shortly. Please prepare to welcome them.” Mike and I exchanged a glance and continued cracking seeds. “Hope a handsome guy comes, to cleanse my eyes.” “A beautiful woman would be nice too, even if I can’t pursue her, she’d still be pleasing to look at.” The next second, a yacht docked. A man and a woman stepped off the boat. The man was tall and imposing, radiating a powerful aura, his face as cold as if he’d just been pulled from an ice chamber. The woman wore designer clothes, sunglasses concealing her eyes, walking with a confident stride, every movement oozing wealth. The live stream instantly erupted. “Holy crap! Is that Mr. Buckley? The head of the Buckley Group?!” “Is that Ms. Vance next to him? The Vance family’s heiress, just returned from abroad?” “Did the production team sell a kidney? How did they manage to invite these two titans?!” The sunflower seeds in Mike’s and my hands scattered with a clatter. Our smiles froze on our faces, looking worse than crying. I trembled, pointing at the man. “Mike, that’s… your ex-husband…” Mike shivered, pointing at the woman. “Willow, that’s… your ex-wife…” Run! That was the only thought in my head. We both bolted towards the production team. “Director! We want to quit! We’ll pay the penalty! We’ll sell everything we own if we have to!” The director slowly sipped his tea, holding up a single finger. “The penalty is ten times, and it must be paid in cash, immediately.” Mike and I’s legs went limp; we nearly collapsed. We were doomed. This time, we were truly trapped in a setup. Before we could even think of a countermeasure, two familiar, chilling voices sounded from behind us. “Why the rush? Don’t you want to say hello to old friends?”

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Waking up in the middle of the night, my wife, Evelyn Lee, was crying, pleading with me to let her see that young man one last time. “Just one last goodbye, and I’ll come straight back. Please, I’m begging you, alright?” In our seven years of marriage, this was only the second time she’d spoken to me with such a cajoling, desperate tone. The first was when I walked in on the young man, disheveled, scrambling out of her office. Afraid I’d make a scene, she’d clutched my hand, pleading: “Darling, I promise I’ll break it off with him. Don’t divorce me, I’d die without you. Can you… can you do that for me?” I gave her a chance. And just as she promised, she devoted herself entirely to our home, becoming the flawless wife everyone admired. Until tonight. I flicked on the bedside lamp, looked into her eyes, and answered steadily: “Go. Don’t leave yourself with any regrets.” I had none left. I hoped she wouldn’t either. 1 The sudden glare stung Evelyn’s eyes, making her instinctively squeeze them shut. The tear tracks on her face became starkly clear, glaringly so. A sudden, bitter laugh caught in my throat; the whole scene felt absurd, almost comical. This was the woman who, in her youth, had shielded me from a thug’s swinging rebar, almost crippling her right arm, and hadn’t even flinched. Now, she was weeping like this, heartbroken over the departure of a twenty-something boy. Her drunken haze slowly receded as she scrutinized my expression. After a few seconds, she sagged like a spring that had been taut for too long, collapsing onto the bed. “You can yell like you used to, you can slap my face and forbid me from going.” “You don’t have to pretend you don’t care, just to make me feel guilty, do you?” “It’s tiresome, Ethan Pierson.” Her face was a mask of suppressed pain. Ever since Evelyn had “returned to the family,” these suffocating silences had become common. Outsiders, oblivious to the undercurrents, would marvel at how our marriage, even after the seven-year itch, seemed to grow stronger. They’d joke about Professor Lee, a distinguished academic, rushing home from work like a lovesick teenager, unable to bear a second away from me. My photo graced her social media profile; my picture adorned her background. She even handed over her phone, allowing me to check it whenever I wished. She was the picture of a devoted, perfect wife. But only we knew the stormy seas churning beneath that seemingly tranquil surface. After that incident, I became hypersensitive, fragile, and my words grew sharp, laced with bitterness. If she complimented a tie, saying it made me look younger, I’d accuse her: “Is it because you have someone younger, fresher in your heart now, that you’re suddenly complaining I’m old?” She once took me on a date to a trendy restaurant. Everything was going well until I heard her casually say, “Their signature dish is quite good.” I immediately erupted, demanding to know why she’d brought me to a place she’d already visited with another man. But I wasn’t like this before. 2 I used to be cheerful, optimistic, the life of the party for my family and friends. How had I become this person? Honestly, the first time I caught her cheating, I thought about divorce. She was the one who, back then, had spent an entire month begging me, swearing countless times that she’d never make the same mistake again. Yet, later, she was also the one who would look at me with a cold face when I lost my temper, asking if I was done throwing a tantrum. During one of my worst breakdowns, I smashed almost everything in the house. I pointed at her, my voice raw and hoarse, shouting: “Do you think I only forgave you that one time?!” “No, it’s every sleepless night, every time the memory resurfaces, I forgive you again.” “Why is it that you’re the one who made the mistake, but I’m the one who suffers?!” I hadn’t shattered the glass, but every day, I felt like I was walking over it. Tonight was our eighth wedding anniversary. Everything had started so well. Evelyn, uncharacteristically, had drunk a lot. With every sip, she’d whisper “I love you.” After a hundred repetitions of these sweet words, both our faces were flushed, as if we were back in the throes of first love. I even silently thought, maybe, just maybe, I should truly forgive her. Pretend nothing ever happened. But only moments ago, a stark realization hit me: how utterly foolish I had been. Her emotional display wasn’t born of love for me. It was grief over another man’s departure. And just like that, I felt no regrets. I pulled out the divorce papers, already prepared in my bedside table, and handed them to her. “Evelyn Lee, I’m letting you go.” But she sprang up from the bed, startled. “Ethan Pierson, are you trying to drive me to my death?!” “Steve Pierson is leaving for Toronto soon. We’ll never have a chance to meet again after this.” “I just want to see him off, as his professor. Is that really so wrong?!” Her phone rang, a sudden, jarring sound. Her voice, as she answered, was incredibly gentle. “Yes, wait for me. I’ll be there in half an hour.” Before she left, Evelyn threw the divorce papers into the trash. “Everything can wait until I get back.” “But divorce? Don’t even think about it.” The door slammed shut with a bang. In the room, only my quiet sobs remained. I had checked. There were no flights to Toronto tonight. Sure enough, a short while later, Steve sent me a picture. Evelyn, naked, was nestled securely in his arms, sleeping peacefully. “Professor Lee says she can only sleep soundly when she’s with me now.” “Do you really think she’s not divorcing you because she still loves you? She just doesn’t want to jeopardize her promotion to associate dean next week.” I looked at the crumpled divorce papers in the trash, the ones that had proposed splitting our assets evenly. I suddenly smiled. She was the one who betrayed me. The one who should pay the price. 3 Evelyn and I were college sweethearts. After graduation, she stayed on at the university, while I pursued a career in a multinational corporation. But after we got married, citing her busy university projects, she asked if I would consider quitting my job to focus on our home. At the time, I was embroiled in a messy corporate power struggle, so I agreed. But now, I was divorcing her. Returning to the workforce was inevitable. However, being out of touch with society for so long, the years of blank space on my resume would make it difficult to find a job with the same benefits as before. So I decided to go abroad for further studies, which would also fill the gap on my CV. As I was using the study computer, browsing doctoral program requirements for universities abroad, I stumbled upon a private folder. The title: [To My Dearest] Those three short words gradually blurred before my eyes. As if disbelieving, I typed in my birthday, her birthday, our wedding anniversary. Stubbornly, I tried every number with special meaning to us. But none worked. Until I opened Steve’s social media, found his birthday, and entered it. The folder unlocked. I already knew the answer, yet seeing the result with my own eyes still brought a surge of suffocating pain to my chest. The folder was a hefty 4.3 GB. It was meticulously filled with everything related to Steve Pierson. The razor he casually discarded, she picked it up and took a picture of it against her chest. Videos of Steve sleeping, head on the desk, when they were rushing projects together in the studio. Voice messages Steve sent her, his way of addressing her, from the initially respectful “Professor Lee” to later “Sister,” and then, “Wife.” Evelyn had carefully noted her feelings for each entry. She called him her “little moon,” writing: [My little moon, I often feel like a sick dog chained up, and only when I occasionally look up at you does my soul find release.] [That day you said you would give yourself to me as a gift, but I refused. Not because I didn’t love you, but because I dared not defile you.] She hated that she hadn’t met him sooner, and even more, that she was already married when she did. I felt like a thief, prying into someone else’s privacy, peeking through the screen at their bone-deep love affair. The last entry was from the day I discovered their affair. Evelyn had written a suicide note, filled with nothing but guilt towards Steve. She had changed her address for him; she called him, my husband. [My husband, if I should unfortunately pass away one day, all my assets will belong to you.] [As for Ethan Pierson, I have wronged him. Just leave him enough money to live out his golden years.] My blood ran cold. My hand, clutching the mouse, trembled uncontrollably. My stomach churned, and I retched into the trash can. It was at that exact moment that Evelyn returned. Her eyes immediately darted to the computer screen, and she panicked, stammering defensively: “N-no, it’s not like that, darling, listen to me.” “I just wanted to vent my emotions. There’s nothing else between us…” Before she could say more, I wiped my mouth and sat upright. Looking into her eyes, I said each word distinctly: “I’m giving you two choices: either make him leave now.” “Or I’ll expose all your disgusting secrets!” 4 Just as I expected, Evelyn chose the first option. Not only did she fear for her own career, but she also couldn’t bear the thought of even a speck of tarnish on her “little moon.” So when Steve Pierson came to find me, I wasn’t surprised. In fact, I was almost hoping he would. I chose a quiet coffee shop for our meeting, a place Evelyn and I used to frequent. Steve looked just like his social media photos – full of youthful collagen, vibrant and energetic. But he also had the common flaw of the young: he was too impatient. “You saw the photos I sent you, right? We’ve already… slept together.” “Tsk tsk, I just casually mentioned leaving, and she got so worked up.” “But thanks to you, really. If you hadn’t pushed her so hard, how else would she have appreciated how good I am?” He was like a puffed-up rooster, eager to provoke me into divorcing Evelyn. But I just smiled indifferently, my gaze falling on the wristwatch he wore. “A classic from R-Brand. Evelyn certainly spares no expense for you.” Steve’s lips curved into a smug smile. But before he could speak, I continued: “I’ve looked into your family background. You can’t afford a six-figure watch.” “Little brother, let me give you a legal heads-up. The money she’s spent on you is marital property. If we divorce, you’ll have to return half of it.” “Though I assume most of it’s already spent, isn’t it?” “Or, I could pay a visit to your parents. Then the entire village will know that you, Steve Pierson, are someone’s mistress in college!” Steve’s smile froze. He sprang to his feet, his once handsome features twisting into something momentarily grotesque. “You wouldn’t dare!” “You can test me and see if I dare!” I spoke, and even though I remained seated, my presence overwhelmed him. Just then, the aggressive young man suddenly glanced behind me. The next second, he quickly grabbed his coffee cup and splashed it all over his face. When he spoke again, his eyes were red. “Brother, I’m sorry. There’s truly nothing going on between me and Professor Lee.” “I’m leaving the country soon. Please, stop tormenting me, alright?” A rush of hurried footsteps came from behind me. I had never seen Evelyn in such a frantic state. She immediately pulled Steve into her embrace, tenderly wiping the coffee from his face. When she looked at me, her eyes were icy cold, yet she dared not utter a single word to me, especially with outsiders present. I watched her, a mocking smile on my face. Just then, several students, who had been following her, began chattering. They were clearly Evelyn’s students, appearing to have just come from a meeting, notebooks still in hand. “Is this the legendary good-for-nothing husband of Professor Lee? Tsk tsk tsk, no wonder Professor Lee doesn’t want to go home!” “Not only does he live off Professor Lee, he’s paranoid every day. He actually suspects Steve, her most brilliant student!” “Exactly! Steve said he’s being forced to leave the country because of him, and he still came here to humiliate him!” With every word they spoke, Steve’s eyes grew redder. Evelyn’s face grew paler. I raised an eyebrow. The next second, I moved with unexpected speed, walked up to Steve, and punched him hard in the face, then smiled at the students. “See? If I really wanted to hit him, I wouldn’t do something so trivial.” Steve clutched his face, stumbling backward into Evelyn’s arms, his hatred barely suppressed in his eyes. Evelyn finally lost her temper, shouting, “Enough! Ethan Pierson, don’t push it too far!” Me, pushing it too far? Oh, there was much more to come! Before I could retort, one of the girls who had spoken up for Steve shoved me hard. “What else do you want to do? If you touch him again, I’m calling the police!” I lost my balance for a moment, falling to the ground, my head hitting the corner of the table with a sickening thud. The world spun. The girl panicked, quickly telling Evelyn she hadn’t meant to. But Evelyn merely gave me a deep, unreadable look. In the end, she said nothing, and left with her students. I clutched my throbbing head, struggling to my feet. I didn’t watch Evelyn and Steve, supporting each other, walk away. Instead, my gaze fixed on a hidden spot on the ceiling.

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My mother, she always favored my sister. All her life. Yet, on her deathbed, she left the only house to me. My sister, the indulged one, only received a worn-out jewelry box. Just as a wave of emotion swelled in me, a pop-up appeared: 【Actually, their mother owed a huge debt. Giving the house to the elder sister was a way to pass on all the debts to her. The sister was eventually forced to jump off a building by the creditors. So tragic.】 【Meanwhile, the younger sister, with the photo hidden in the jewelry box, successfully married the son of a billionaire and lived a life of luxury.】 【Too bad the younger sister started cursing loudly right after hearing the will, causing their mother to die of anger before she could reveal the truth to her.】 I was stunned. That night, I rummaged through a forgotten corner and found the jewelry box my sister had discarded. It led me straight to the billionaire’s mansion. … The moment he saw me, the billionaire froze. I handed him the jewelry box. His hand trembled slightly as he took it, retrieving a photo from a hidden compartment. It was a faded picture of two people, their faces blurred beyond recognition, but he stared at it in silence for a long time. “Where is she?” “My mother passed away.” I lowered my gaze. “She gave me this before she died.” He sighed. “When we parted ways back then, I made her a promise.” “If her daughter ever came to me with this, I would have my son marry her.” He called for his assistant. “Bring Aiden back.” My eyes widened. The comments were actually true. The billionaire was really going to call his son back to marry me. Aiden stormed in, still in his black racing suit, a look of impatience etched on his face. The billionaire pointed at me. “I called you back to discuss your marriage.” Only then did Aiden’s gaze land on me. He scoffed, his disdain clear. “Dad, who did you pick up from some slum? Another woman trying to climb the social ladder with just a pretty face?” “Shut up.” The billionaire glared at him. “You’re always playing those death-defying games. Who knows when you’ll end up dead somewhere. Get married, leave an heir, then you can die however you please.” “No marriage, and all your cards will be frozen, and your racing team blacklisted, starting now.” The billionaire stood up, his stance firm. “Choose.” Father and son locked eyes. Realizing his father was serious this time, Aiden gritted his teeth, then turned to me. “Fine, it’s just a marriage, isn’t it?” The registration took only half an hour. Stepping out of the registry office, I was still dazed, everything feeling like a dream. Aiden snatched my phone. When he returned it, ten million dollars had been added to my account. He warned me, “I’m going racing. You go back on your own. Take the money and keep quiet. Don’t even think about running to my dad.” I opened my mouth to speak. “Actually…” He frowned impatiently. “I knew it. You women are all so greedy. I’ve transferred another ten million. Don’t pester me, and don’t expect me to fall in love with you.” I started to say, “Actually, I don’t need…” My phone chimed again. A third ten million landed in my account. I immediately shut up. “Understood, young master. Have a wonderful time.” After Aiden left, I hailed a cab and went home. The moment I opened the door, someone roughly grabbed my hair, dragging me to the floor. The man, who had done the pulling, blew a smoke ring in my face. “So, you’re the one who forged the will and stole Lily’s house?” My sister, Lily, leaned against him, her eyes red from crying. “Sis, my boyfriend had it appraised. The will is fake. Even if you’re short on cash, you can’t go against Mom’s last wishes.” “If you sign the transfer agreement now and give the house back to me, I won’t call the police.” I slowly got up, my knee throbbing with pain. “Alright, I’ll sign. But there must be a lawyer present to certify that Mom’s house is inherited by you.” Lily’s rich-kid boyfriend made a call, and soon a lawyer arrived with a contract. Seeing me sign my name, Lily snatched the agreement, checked it, and then a smirk played on her lips. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to just listen from the start?” She leaned in close, lowering her voice. “It’s just a crummy house. My boyfriend’s family has plenty, but I just can’t stand to see you happy, you know? You deserve to be a pauper your whole life, a stepping stone for me.” I was trembling with anger. The comments were also furious on my behalf: 【How can this sister be like this? When she made mistakes as a child, their mother only hit the older sister. When the older sister grew up, all the money she earned was taken by their mother and spent on the younger sister. I feel like the older sister isn’t even her biological child.】 【At first, seeing the older sister go to the billionaire with the photo, I thought she was stealing her sister’s life. Now, it seems the younger sister deserves whatever she gets.】 Tears welled in my eyes as I read those words. Just then, my phone rang. It was Aiden. “Didn’t I tell you to go home? Where are you? The butler didn’t see you, and the old man called me again.” I paused. “I went back to my old home.” He clicked his tongue on the other end. “Why are you running around? You have half an hour. Get back to the mansion, fast. The housekeeper made a big dinner, and if you’re not there, he’ll ask me again. It’s annoying as hell.” He hung up, clearly irritated. Immediately, another call came in. “Good evening, Madam. I’m the Hayes family’s driver. Where are you now? I’ll come pick you up and take you home.” I gripped my phone, a strange tremor in my heart. Turns out, I wasn’t utterly alone after all. I gave him the address and went inside to pack my things. Lily leaned against the doorframe, scrutinizing me. “So that’s why you were so cooperative. You found a man to take you in.” “Is it some old man who’s keeping you? Or did you find another broke guy and you’re moving into a rented room with him?” I ignored her, picking up my suitcase. “Excuse me.” “What’s the rush?” She blocked my way. “Call your boyfriend up. Let me see what kind of man would even look at someone like you.” The Hayes family car certainly wasn’t cheap. If Lily saw it… I suddenly smiled. “You’re so interested in my boyfriend. Are you trying to seduce him?” “Then again, you’ve been used to stealing my things since childhood.” Lily froze, then burst out laughing. “Are you crazy? Someone like you, what kind of good catch could you find? Old, ugly, poor — I wouldn’t take him if he was free.” “Willow, I think you’re just embarrassed to show him off.” I pushed her aside and left without looking back. I moved into the Hayes family mansion. The butler had already prepared silk pajamas, jewelry, and a full set of imported skincare products. After eating well and sleeping soundly, my skin even smoothed out a bit. Goodbye to those days of working until three in the morning, saving money by eating instant noodles, being yelled at by clients without daring to talk back, and having my credit stolen by my boss while still having to say thank you. Goodbye, miserable life. Aiden didn’t come home for three days straight. But that didn’t stop him from becoming a figure worthy of respect in my mind, like a sugar daddy. On the third night, my phone rang. “Can you drive? Come pick me up.” It was Aiden’s voice; the background noise was loud. As I walked into the private room in a long dress, several pairs of eyes swung towards me, filled with scrutiny, mockery, and ill intent. Aiden sat in the center, swirling a drink in his hand. “Aiden, is this the one your dad forced on you?” A guy grinned, sizing me up. “She’s pretty obedient, came right when you called.” Aiden looked at me, raising an eyebrow. “It’s all an act. I’ve seen plenty of women like this—innocent on the surface, but secretly plotting something.” I pretended not to hear him, walking to his side. “Time to go home?” “What’s the rush?” He leaned back. “Sit there and wait. We’ll leave when I’ve had my fill.” I walked to a corner sofa and sat down. I ordered an orange juice and sipped it slowly. The lights in the room flashed erratically, and the music pounded. Aiden kept glancing my way while talking to others—once, twice, thrice. I remained quiet and demure, my eyelashes casting shadows on my face, looking like someone anyone could bully. 【LOL, Aiden was suddenly stuck with a wife. The more he thought about it over the past couple of days, the angrier he got, so he decided to call her out to humiliate her.】 【His ‘humiliation’ wouldn’t be just ignoring Willow, would it? Willow used to work twenty hours of overtime to pay for her mother’s medical bills, and she wouldn’t even flinch when her boss threw documents in her face. Sitting on a sofa and spacing out must be a reward for her.】 【Meanwhile, Aiden saw his friends secretly looking at Willow and his face turned dark with anger.】 It wasn’t until a guy came over to talk to me that Aiden suddenly put down his glass, stood up, and walked over. “Let’s go.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me out. In the car, I even thoughtfully buckled his seatbelt for him. He turned to me, frowning. “Don’t you have any temper?” “I do,” I said. “But I don’t have one for you.” Of course, I had no temper for Aiden. He was just a stranger to me. And if a stranger inexplicably transferred thirty million dollars to me, even if they slapped me, I’d still ask them if their hand hurt. Aiden suddenly fell silent. I wondered if it was just my imagination, but his ears seemed a little red. It was two in the morning when we got home. When I came out after my shower, Aiden was standing in the hallway, looking like he was heading to the kitchen. He paused when he saw me. I was only wrapped in a bath towel, my hair still dripping. Aiden’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He averted his gaze, then shifted it back. “You…” He cleared his throat. “Wear proper clothes when you come out from now on.” “This is my room’s doorway.” “This is my house.” He frowned. “Don’t try to seduce me. I’m not interested in you.” “And don’t think acting innocent will make me soft. Just wait, I’ll soon expose your true colors.” I: “?”

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Everyone knew my billionaire husband was two decades older. He married me to manage his kids. Learning he’d rarely be home, give me ten million monthly, and that I wouldn’t need children, I agreed instantly. My stepson Lucas skipped school for games. I bought his arcade and stayed up, winning all his allowance. My stepdaughter Maya adored a pop star. I paid her idol to give me a foot massage at our mansion, crushing her illusions. Just as we grew close, warnings flashed like comments on my life: “The real heroine, the long-lost daughter, is returning.” “The kids will turn on the stepmom for their real mother.” “Stepmom ends up on the streets, fighting dogs for scraps.” So someone wants to steal my inheritance? Let’s see if my ‘managed’ husband and these kids side with her. I tossed my Hermès scarf into the fireplace, beckoning Lucas and Maya. “Minions, find all your dad’s hidden cash. Tonight, we’re blowing every cent at the club—nothing left for that gold digger.” … My command, and the two figures previously slumped on the sofa, sprang to attention like startled springs. Lucas’s eyes gleamed like a hungry wolf. “Are you talking about the black card the old man hid in the ceiling compartment of his study?” Maya, without a word, tossed her nail polish aside. “And the gold bars he stashed in his old shoes in the walk-in closet!” I nodded, pleased. They truly were his children; they knew his hiding spots better than I did. “Take it all. Tonight’s on Lucas, my treat for you all!” The comments section exploded. “Is this stepmom insane? She’s about to be kicked out with nothing and she’s still pulling stunts?” “The true heroine is at the doorstep, she’s got a DNA test! This stepmom is just having her last hurrah.” “Wait till Mr. Mulvey comes back and sees the house ransacked. He’ll throw this evil woman out for sure!” I smirked, looking at the half-burnt Hermès scarf I’d just rescued from the fire. If I was going to be the wicked stepmother, I might as well act the part. Ten minutes later, Lucas clutched the black card, Maya hugged the gold bars, both beaming with an unprecedented, filial glow. “Mom, which club are we going to? I want the most expensive male escorts!” Maya looked at me eagerly. “The most exclusive one in all of New York. Tonight, we drink till we drop, and I’ll send your… cheap dad our location.” I waved my hand grandly, leading my two “unfilial children” out. No sooner had we left than a taxi pulled up to the villa. A woman in a white dress, tears streaming down her face like pearly rain, stepped out. It was none other than the legendary true heroine, Emily Sterling. She looked at the empty villa, the heartfelt reunion speech she’d prepared stuck in her throat. The comments section was full of question marks. “Where are they? Didn’t they say everyone was waiting to welcome the heroine?” “Where’s the family?” Meanwhile, my two stepchildren and I were in the most luxurious private room in New York. The table was laden with expensive imported liquor, and two rows of male escorts, more handsome than any idol trainee, stood before us. Lucas was busy popping champagne, Maya was busy picking out the hottest guys. I slumped on the sofa, looking at the dozens of missed calls from Julian Mulvey on my phone, then promptly turned it off. Want me to leave with nothing? Dream on. Emily did have some tricks up her sleeve. She actually managed to find the club. The moment the private room door swung open, I was holding a microphone, belting out a duet of “The Big Sedan Chair” with Lucas. Maya was directing three male escorts to peel grapes for her. Emily stood in the doorway, half her white dress soaked from the rain outside, looking like a pitiful white flower caught in a storm. It was a stark contrast to our wild, chaotic scene. The comments section went into a frenzy. “Waaah, the heroine is so pitiful, her real children are right there but they don’t recognize her.” “These two kids have been corrupted by the stepmom. Coming to a place like this at such a young age. Of course, she wouldn’t care since they’re not her own.” “Look, the heroine is crying! The kids must have a psychic connection!” Emily’s eyes immediately reddened, tears flowing on cue. “Lucas, Maya… I’m your mother.” Her cry of “mother” was filled with such sorrow it would break anyone’s heart. The music screeched to a halt. Lucas still held the champagne bottle, staring blankly at the woman in the doorway. Maya still had half a grape in her mouth. I raised an eyebrow, said nothing, just took a bite of watermelon. Seeing no one respond, Emily gritted her teeth and rushed forward, trying to hug Lucas. “My child, Mommy missed you so much. Mommy had her reasons back then…” “Stop!” Lucas deftly dodged, retreating behind me. “Lady, who are you? You reek of poverty. Don’t get your stench on my limited-edition hoodie.” Emily froze, staring at her biological son in disbelief. “I’m your real mother! Don’t you remember? When you were little, you loved Mommy’s braised pork.” “I don’t like braised pork. Dad does.” Lucas cut her off mercilessly, rolling his eyes. “And now I only eat lobster and king crab. Can you afford to buy them for me?” Emily’s face paled, and she instinctively clutched the hem of her dress. She had just returned to the country; where would she get the money for such things? The comments section was indignant. “How can this child be so materialistic! The stepmom must have ruined him!” “Don’t cry, heroine, just throw the DNA test results at them and make them face reality!” Emily’s hand trembled as she pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her bag. “This is a DNA test. You really are my children…” Maya finally swallowed her grape, slowly standing up. She walked up to Emily, looked her up and down, then covered her nose in disgust. “So what if you’re my real mom? Can you buy me Hermès? Can you get my idol to give me a foot massage?” “If you can’t, then why are you back? To fight us for the inheritance?” Emily was completely bewildered. This wasn’t how the script was supposed to go! Where was the mother-child bond, the tearful reunion? Julian Mulvey finally arrived. When he pushed open the door, he was met with a bizarre scene. His ex-wife, Emily, was kneeling on the floor, weeping hysterically. His current wife, me, was casually watching the drama unfold, legs crossed. And his two children were hiding behind me, staring at their biological mother as if she were insane. “What in God’s name is going on here?!” Julian thundered, his face dark. Emily seemed to see a savior, scrambling to his feet and throwing herself at Julian’s feet. “Julian, you’re finally here. I don’t blame the children for not recognizing me; it’s my fault for being away for so long.” “But Delia… how could she bring the children to a place like this? It will ruin them!” A classic move: retreating to adMulvey, and throwing me under the bus in the process. Julian glanced at the table full of liquor bottles, then at the bewildered male escorts, a vein throbbing in his temple. He turned to me, his gaze sharp. “Delia Hayes, is this how you look after the children?” I leisurely wiped my hands. “What? Mr. Mulvey doesn’t like it? This is happiness bought with your money, for your children.” “Besides, I didn’t bring them here to do anything illegal. Just listen to music, have a few drinks, and, by the way…” I pointed to the male escorts. “Let your daughter experience the diversity of men early, so she doesn’t get fooled by scumbags like you later on.” Julian choked on his anger. The comments section, however, suddenly became excited. “Although… the stepmom makes a really good point.” “This stepmom has some guts, her mouth is blessed.” “Mr. Mulvey, quickly help the heroine up! Rekindle the old flame! Patch things up!” Julian did indeed help Emily up. But the look in his eyes wasn’t the deep affection the comments hoped for; it was more like… embarrassment? “Since you’re only here once in a blue moon, let’s go home and talk.” Julian sighed, seemingly compromising. A flicker of triumph crossed Emily’s eyes, and she gave me a provocative look. I shrugged indifferently. Go home then. That house was no longer the one she remembered anyway. Back at the villa, Emily immediately slipped into her role. Ignoring her wet clothes, she headed straight to the kitchen to make supper for the children. “Lucas, Maya, Mommy’s making noodles for you. You used to love Mommy’s homemade noodles.” Lucas and Maya exchanged glances, horror in both their eyes. “I’m not eating! I’m ordering takeout! I want barbecue!” Lucas shouted. “I want barbecue too! Extra spicy!” Maya chimed in. Just as Emily brought out two bowls of bland, clear noodle soup, the delivery driver rang the doorbell. A mountain of lamb skewers, two platters of spicy crawfish, and ice-cold cola. The aroma instantly overpowered the two bowls of noodles. Emily’s hands trembled as she held the bowls. “These… these are junk food. They’re not good for your health.” I picked up a lamb skewer, took a bite, oil glistening on my lips. “Ms. Sterling, the most important thing in life is to be happy.” “Even dogs wouldn’t eat your noodles.” Emily moved into the guest room. But she clearly didn’t see herself as a guest. The very next morning, she began a grand clean-up of the villa. Under the guise of “decluttering” and giving the children a fresh living environment. By the time the kids and I woke up late in the morning, the house had been transformed. Lucas’s limited-edition action figures had been thrown into the trash. Maya’s pop star posters were ripped down and crumpled into a ball. Even the priceless bottle of red wine I kept in the living room had been poured down the drain, replaced with plain boiled water. “Noooo! My action figures! They were global limited editions! You can’t buy them even with money!” Lucas let out a pained shriek. Maya burst into tears. “My bias! My posters! Emily, are you insane?!” Emily, apron-clad, stood in the center of the living room, looking innocent. “Lucas, Maya, those toys take up too much space and look childish. Mommy helped you put them away.” “And those posters, that male celebrity doesn’t look decent. Mommy is doing this for your own good…” The comments section erupted in cheers. “Heroine doing great! She needs to help the kids get rid of those bad habits!” “This is a real mom, worrying herself sick for her children’s future.” “The stepmom only indulges, the real mom disciplines. The kids will realize the heroine’s good intentions eventually.” I leaned against the second-floor railing, watching the chaos unfold downstairs, and couldn’t help but laugh. “Emily, did you forget? This house is in my name now.” “Throwing away my things in my house? Who gave you the audacity?” Emily looked up at me, her eyes red. “Delia, I know you don’t like me, but the children are innocent. You can’t just indulge them in endless fun and games to curry favor.” “I’m trying to save them!” What a noble declaration. Julian Mulvey came downstairs at that moment, and seeing the scene, his brows furrowed. Emily immediately rushed over to complain. “Julian, look how Delia has spoiled the children! They’re losing their ambition, chasing frivolous things. How will they ever inherit the family business?” Julian glanced at the action figures in the trash, which he had gone through a lot of trouble to buy for his son’s birthday. He then looked at his daughter, whose makeup was ruined from crying. Finally, his gaze settled on Emily, who stood with a righteous expression. The comments section went into full alert. “Here it comes! Mr. Mulvey is about to blow up!” “Mr. Mulvey will definitely side with the heroine, it’s for the kids’ good after all.” “The stepmom is in for it now. She’s definitely getting kicked out!” Everyone thought Julian would reprimand me, and even Emily was prepared to be embraced and comforted. However, Julian took a deep breath and slowly spoke: “Emily, I bought that action figure.” “It cost eight hundred thousand dollars.” Emily’s expression froze.

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