Category: English

A True Goodbye Leaves Without a Farewell Brief My girlfriend, Sienna Lawson, had been abroad for three months. On the day she returned, she walked out of the airport arm in arm with a man who looked strikingly similar to me. That man was none other than her ex-boyfriend, Garrett Cain. The tenderness she showed him was something I had never seen before. It was then I realized I had been a stand-in for five years. So, I chose to leave and disappear from her life. In the end, Sienna, unable to find me, lost her mind. Content Watching Sienna step off the plane with Garrett Cain, the bouquet and umbrella in my hands slipped to the ground without me even noticing. Cold raindrops pelted my face, but they were nothing compared to the icy chill in my heart. I had seen a picture of Garrett in a suit on Sienna’s phone once. He looked a lot like me—maybe a 70% resemblance. But I knew I wasn’t in the photo; I never wore suits. Sienna had explained back then that she’d Photoshopped my face onto the image. Even before I started dating her, I knew she had an ex who looked like me. But after we got together, I figured the past was the past. She was with me now. Seeing Garrett in person, though, everything clicked. I’d been a substitute for five years. Friends who knew Garrett used to tease me: “Ryan, your style—your clothes, hair—it’s starting to look a lot like Sienna’s ex-boyfriend Garrett’s.” I had laughed it off then, thinking they were joking. Looking back now at everything Sienna had done, the truth hit me. In our five years together, she had me cut my hair the way she liked, dress the way she wanted, and eat the foods she liked. But it wasn’t until today, when I saw Garrett with my haircut, wearing clothes like mine, and holding the very same soda crackers that Sienna always encouraged me to snack on, that it all made sense. Standing in the rain, I felt like the fool in a viral internet meme. I had loved her for five years. I had been Garrett’s stand-in for five years. No wonder she went on frequent “business trips” abroad, sometimes for weeks. This time, it was three whole months. Because Garrett had been abroad all this time. During those three months, Sienna barely contacted me. I always sent “Good morning,” “Good afternoon,” and “Good night,” sharing every detail of my day. Her replies were always the same: “Yeah” or “Okay.” It was exhausting. I picked up the roses I’d dropped, looked at Sienna and Garrett laughing together, and let out a self-deprecating chuckle. They were a perfect match. I set the bouquet on a nearby public bench and drove home. Once home, I took a hot shower to prevent a cold from being drenched in the rain, then collapsed into bed. Predictably, I woke up the next day with a fever and pounding headache. After taking cold medicine and notifying my boss I’d take the day off, I planned to rest. That’s when Sienna came home. She walked in and looked at me, surprised. “Why didn’t you go to work?” I glanced at her. “I took a sick day.” She dropped her shopping bag on the couch, sat down, and demanded, “Why didn’t you pick me up yesterday? I told you to.” My head throbbed, and I didn’t want to argue. “I’ve been busy. Forgot.” She turned her head away in a huff, a familiar gesture to coax me into apologizing. In the past, I’d rush to make things right within hours. But now, I didn’t see the point. The fever and exhaustion made me want only to sleep. I left her sulking and went to lie down. Minutes later, furious, she barged into my room and threw the shopping bag onto the bed. “I thought about you the whole time I was away. I ought you all these clothes, and you treat me like this?” I glanced at the bag’s contents and let out a bitter laugh. Of course. They were precisely Garrett’s style.

Seeing that I didn’t even bother opening the bag, she snapped, “Fine! Ignore me, huh? Don’t talk to me anymore! The company just opened a branch in Riverside, and you’re going there. You won’t see me for six months!” I paused, then understood. Garrett was back, and she wanted me out of the way. It suited me perfectly. I had been thinking about leaving anyway. Now, she’d given me the excuse. “Sure,” I said. “I’ll pack and leave right now.” She looked at me, stunned, not expecting me to agree so readily. I had clung to him for five years, desperate to spend every moment together. Whenever she went on trips, I’d practically beg to stay on the phone all day just to hear her voice. To her, I couldn’t function without her. Dragging my feverish body, I started packing. The effort left me coughing violently, my head spinning. Sienna frowned and rushed to steady me. “Are you okay?” I pushed her hand away. “I’m fine. Just caught a little rain.” I continued packing as she stood there, conflicted. After a moment, she offered, “Why don’t you wait a few days? I’ll drive you. You’re not well.” I cut her off. “No need. It’s just a cold.” Grabbing my toiletries, I returned to find my suitcase ransacked. Sienna glared at me. “Why didn’t you pack the new clothes I bought? You’re just taking your old, ugly stuff?” I calmly reorganized the bag. “I’m used to my old clothes. They’re comfortable.” “I didn’t know you’d be home so early. There’s no breakfast. Order takeout yourself. I’m leaving.” I set the house and car keys on the coffee table, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out. I had arrived with nothing. I was leaving the same way. Downstairs, as I waited for a ride, Sienna ran after me, breathless. “I’ll drive you,” she said. “The bus will be uncomfortable, and I need to check on the branch anyway.” The trip wasn’t far—just over 200 kilometers. No flights were available, and she hadn’t booked a train ticket for me. I’d have to take a cramped bus, which wasn’t ideal given my fever. I was about to agree when a black sedan pulled up. A man wearing sunglasses stepped out.

It was Garrett Cain. He walked up to Sienna Lawson, flashing her a warm smile. “Sienna, I’m here to drive you to work.” Then his gaze shifted to me. “And you must be… Ryan Lander? You do look quite a bit like me. Sienna mentioned it before, and I didn’t believe her. Now I do.” Sienna looked at me, a flicker of panic in her expression. She started to explain, “Ryan, this is—” I cut her off with a cold smile. “No need for introductions. I know him—the first picture in your phone’s ‘favorites’ album.” Of course, I recognized him. I had been his stand-in for five years. Her album only had two photos: one of Garrett and another of her and Garrett. Garrett laughed. “Didn’t expect you to keep my pictures, Sienna. To be fair, I didn’t delete yours either. Sometimes, late at night, I still look at them.” Sienna shot him a warning glare, clearly uneasy with me standing there. Garrett shrugged, unfazed, the two bantering like a couple deeply in love. And me? I was the extra in their little reunion. Garrett suddenly said, “Oh, Sienna, that luncheon at the Regency Grand Hotel this afternoon. We need to get there early to prep. You didn’t forget, did you?” Sienna slapped her forehead, looking torn. “I almost did! But I need to drive Ryan to Riverside…” She hesitated for a moment before glancing at me apologetically. “Ryan, the luncheon is crucial. Maybe you could—” “Go ahead. I’ll get there myself,” I interrupted, not giving her a chance to finish. A luncheon, huh? It is just an excuse to throw Garrett a welcome-back party. I had left a high-level corporate job to help her with her fledgling company. I remember the night she took me out for fried skewers by the roadside, and I spent no more than $20. And now, Garrett returns, and she books the city’s most luxurious hotel for him. Even the cheapest dish there costs thousands. It wasn’t the roadside food I minded. It wasn’t even the glorious celebration. It was realizing that five years of genuine love had been for nothing. As a cab pulled up, I waved it down, got in, and left. From the rearview mirror, I saw Garrett hand Sienna a dress she took with a shy smile before getting into his car. She didn’t spare a glance at the cab I had taken. There wasn’t even a text on my phone. But I didn’t care anymore. Rolling down the window, I let the morning breeze wash over me as I took one last look at the city I had stayed in for Sienna. Goodbye. No—good riddance. I would never return. Not for Sienna. Not for this city. I felt no attachment to either. As the saying goes, when you love someone, it’s soul-crushing. But when you despise them, everything about them—including where they live—becomes unbearable. The fever had me feeling lightheaded and sick to my stomach. Taking a long bus ride in this condition would probably kill me, so I asked the cab driver to take me across state lines. He agreed, for a price. When we arrived, the driver woke me up. “Where to exactly?” he asked. Groggy and feverish, I shook my head. “I don’t have a place yet.” The older man, probably in his fifties, looked at me with a hint of pity. “That young lady I saw earlier—your girlfriend, right? How could she let you travel while you’re this sick?” I shook my head again. “She’s not.” He didn’t press further, pulling out his phone and making a call before driving me toward town. I drifted off again. When I woke up, I was lying on a bed.

Still groggy, I felt an overwhelming thirst. I sat up, and just then, the door opened. A woman with a ponytail walked in, carrying a glass of water. She handed it to me with a small smile. “You must be thirsty. Here, drink some warm water.” I dumbly accepted the glass and downed it in two gulps. “Uh… is there more?” She stifled a laugh. “Of course, silly. It’s water—we’re not running out anytime soon.” She left and quickly returned with another glass, followed by the cab driver. The driver said, “I don’t know where you plan to work, but if you need a place to stay, this house is available for rent.” He explained that it was his old home, where he had lived with his family before they moved. After his daughter had a car accident that left her with mild brain trauma and depression, she couldn’t handle the noise and stress of the big city. He brought her back here, to this quiet little neighborhood. The area was serene, with courtyard-style houses. It suited me perfectly. I owed the man for helping me, so I rented the house and paid him three years’ rent upfront. The property was split into two small units connected by a walkway. His daughter, Cassidy Grace, lived on the left side, while I took the right. Before leaving, he said, “Take care of my daughter, will you?” I joked, “Aren’t you afraid I might run off with her?” He chuckled. “Kid, anyone who cries in their sleep for two hours isn’t someone I’d peg as a bad person.” I froze. So that’s why he’d asked earlier if Sienna was my girlfriend. With all his years of experience, this man had seen right through me. He took care of me while he asked me to look after Cassidy. She bought me medicine, made me meals, boiled water, and even gave me rides to work on her little electric scooter. Thankfully, my workplace was only a few miles away. I felt genuinely cared for for the first time, not coerced into compliance. During this time, Sienna didn’t call or text. I didn’t reach out either. Without her, life was better. It felt like I’d reclaimed the sunny, confident version of myself I had lost five years ago. Cassidy and I played badminton video games and spent time outdoors. I felt healthier than I had been sitting at a desk for years. She was forgetful as a result of the accident. Sometimes, she’d drop me off at work, only to return an hour late, thinking it was already time to pick me up. Her recovery would take time, possibly a lifetime. I had a friend in the medical field who had made significant breakthroughs. Once I resigned, I planned to take Cassidy to him for treatment. That was the least I could do to repay her kindness. One evening, as I lay in bed scrolling on my phone, I saw a new Instagram post from Sienna. It was a picture of her and Garrett at a hotel—he in a suit, she in a white gown. The caption read: “Powerhouse Collaboration: Here’s to the company’s future!” Anyone would’ve assumed it was a wedding photo if not for the background. Someone commented, “Wow, Ryan looks amazing in a suit! Never seen him dressed up like that.” Sienna replied: “That’s not Ryan. He’s… another friend of mine.”

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My dad had an affair with a washed-up model. My mom was devastated, cried her heart out, and demanded a divorce. In court, the judge asked me, a ten-year-old, to decide who I wanted to live with. Under my mom’s hopeful gaze, I chose my cheating dad. I rightly explained that it was my mom’s fault for not being able to have a baby brother. I was a girl, detail-oriented and responsible, and I needed to help my dad care for my unborn brother. Mom covered her face and wept bitterly. It was hilarious—she was faking it. Because we both knew the good days for me and my mom were just beginning. Content 0 In court, the judge asked who I wanted to stay with. Everyone assumed I’d choose my mom—for the stable home, loving care, and everything else that made sense. Instead, I picked my dad, who was nervously shielding his mistress, Vanessa Thorn, and her pregnant belly. Dad was stunned but quickly shrugged it off. After all, I was just a girl—his daughter, not a son. To him, girls were destined to marry out of the family eventually. When the judge asked for my reasoning, I put on my most innocent expression and said: “Dad’s had it so rough. He just wants to be with Aunt Vanessa. What did he do wrong?” “Dad’s busy making money, and Aunt Vanessa’s having a baby. I need to help Dad take care of my baby brother.” “Mom’s always busy teaching other kids. She couldn’t even have a baby brother and wouldn’t let Dad have one with someone else. That’s mean!” Beside me, Mom covered her face, her shoulders shaking as she “cried uncontrollably.” Only I knew the truth: she was laughing so hard it hurt. Mom cried on cue. No, she was acting. We had planned it this way—I’d put on the show, and she’d bring the tears. 0

Then, out of nowhere, everything went dark. When I opened my eyes, I realized I had somehow gone back in time to the year of my parents’ divorce. At this moment, Mom still hadn’t discovered Dad’s affair with Vanessa. She hadn’t confronted him yet or demanded a messy divorce. Though it was the middle of the night, I wasn’t sleepy at all. Time was of the essence. By tomorrow, Mom would find evidence of Dad’s cheating on his phone and blow up. She’d lose control, and the whole nightmare would begin again. I bolted upright, dashed out of bed, and banged on the door to the main bedroom. This was my only chance to rewrite the past and prevent the tragedy from repeating itself. Mom groggily opened the door, squinting in confusion. “Fiona, what’s going on? Why aren’t you asleep?” Like a slippery eel, I slipped past her, locked the door, and dragged her to sit on the bed. “Mom,” I said, “you need to listen.” Then, I spilled everything I remembered about the future without holding back. Why? Apart from myself, the woman who loved me most was the woman who gave me life. I left out the part about my death, though. Instead, I rambled on about how to outsmart Dad and Vanessa. Mom’s eyes were already red and brimming with tears when I looked up. She must have sensed the words I didn’t say. She wrapped her arms tightly around me, pulling me into her warm embrace. Snuggling into her, I finally felt safe. “Mom,” I whispered, “Dad’s been secretly installing cameras around the house. He thinks you might cheat on him, even though he’s the one cheating.” “There are hidden cameras in the living room. Thankfully, he hasn’t gone insane enough to put them in the bedroom.” I wouldn’t dare share any of this with Mom here at home if he had. “Start gathering evidence quietly,” I told her. “Then file for divorce. When the time comes, I’ll choose Dad in court.” Mom’s eyes grew misty, and looked like she wanted to say something. I reached out and pressed my hand against her cheek. “Mom, trust me. I’ll make sure we have a good life. I promise.” 0

After the court hearing, I moved in with Dad at the Riverside Mansion in Savannah. I played the part of a dutiful little girl who cared deeply for Dad’s happiness. I didn’t question why a supposedly broke man could suddenly afford a luxury mansion. Instead, I cheerfully declared, “Wow! This house is amazing! Aunt Vanessa will be so much more comfortable having the baby here!” I immediately ran to Dad, making a big show of my commitment to taking care of the unborn baby. Maybe Dad still had a tiny shred of fatherly love for me because he transferred $5,000 to my bank account without hesitation, telling me to use it as I wished. Then he hurried off, claiming he had work to do. Of course, I knew better. I wasn’t an actual child anymore. I knew exactly where he was going—and so did Vanessa. As soon as Dad left, Vanessa’s sweet façade crumbled. “You shameless little brat!” she snapped. “You’re old enough to know better. Stop mooching off your father!” There was something in her eyes—something dark and desperate I couldn’t quite read. She dug her sharp nails into my forehead, snatched my phone, and transferred the $5,000 into her account. Then, in her shrill, affected tone, she declared herself my “stepmother” and warned me not to breathe a word of this to “dear Daddy.” “If you do,” she hissed, “you’ll regret it.” I blinked up at her, feigning submission. “I won’t tell him,” I whispered timidly. Inside, I was laughing. Oh, Vanessa, you think I’ll stay quiet just because you told me to? 03 The following day, I got up early and set the breakfast table. The food was already waiting when Dad finally came downstairs after his morning routine. He stopped short at the sight of three bowls of bland oatmeal and two plates of pickles set on the costly cherrywood table. His lips twitched, trying—and failing—not to grimace. I could almost hear his thoughts: How am I supposed to stomach this pathetic excuse for breakfast? But I stared at him with my big, hopeful eyes, like a kid desperate for approval. After a moment of hesitation, he picked up a spoon and took a symbolic bite. He spat it out dramatically one mouthful later, his face contorting in absolute horror. Internally, I was dying of laughter. This was no ordinary oatmeal. Oh no, this was cursed oatmeal, something I’d “enhanced” to ensure maximum misery. It took Dad a while to recover, and when he did, he glared at me. “Where on earth did you get this garbage?” he snapped. “You’re old enough to know better. Can’t even buy a decent breakfast!” Then his eyes landed on my school uniform—too short and visibly worn out. His scowl deepened. “I gave you money yesterday. Can’t you at least buy yourself clothes that fit? Walking around like that makes me look bad!” His rant woke Vanessa, who waddled lazily out of the bedroom, her pregnant belly leading the way. Leaning against the railing, she smirked, clearly enjoying the show. I bit my lip and let my expression crumble into pure heartbreak. Internally, I was screaming with joy. Perfect. Everyone’s here. Showtime! Tears streamed down my face like tiny pearls, and my voice trembled as I turned to Dad. “Daddy, please don’t blame Aunt Vanessa for taking my money.” I gasped and covered my mouth. “Oh no, I wasn’t supposed to say that! Aunt Vanessa, I’m so sorry! Please don’t kick me out!” Then the waterworks started. I sobbed and stammered apologies to both of them, making myself look like a pitiful little victim. It was Oscar-worthy. Seriously, where’s my trophy? Maybe my performance was too good, or maybe Dad was fed up with Vanessa’s overbearing attitude. Either way, he rounded on her furiously. “You’re not even my wife yet! If you can’t give me a son, you can pack your bags and leave!” To appease me, he handed me his secondary credit card. I took it with wide, cautious eyes, pretending to be nervous. “Thank you, Daddy,” I murmured, earning a dismissive, “Don’t act so cheap” from him. Sure, I got scolded, but who cared? My grin was practically impossible to suppress. I figured Vanessa might back off after that public dressing down. I was wrong. Vanessa’s energy levels were infinite. After all, she’d clawed her way to the top of the mistress hierarchy to secure her pregnancy. The next day, she crushed peanuts and mixed them into my breakfast, knowing I had a mild allergy. Coincidentally, that was also the day of my entrance exams for school placement. I guess she really couldn’t stand the idea of me succeeding. Smiling coldly, I “accidentally” spilled most of the oatmeal onto her massive belly. It was fall, so the porridge wasn’t scalding hot, but the sudden sensation still startled her. She yelped, and her bladder betrayed her—pregnancy hormones and all. Watching Dad walk off in disgust while Vanessa’s trembling fingers clenched her dress was a chef’s kiss. A week later, she paid some of my classmates to bully me. What she didn’t know? I was the class president—unanimously elected; thank you very much. I took the hush money she’d given them, used it to treat the entire class to a barbecue feast, and turned the would-be bullies into my loyal allies. Two weeks later, she staged a dramatic fall, trying to frame me for hurting her unborn baby. I raised an eyebrow, pointed at the three newly installed security cameras overhead, and asked, “Are you okay?” Her eyes widened, and she scrambled to her feet, pretending nothing had happened. After that fiasco, I walked away without a scratch, while Dad became even more reluctant to come home. Vanessa officially became the “main wife” at home, but Dad’s flings were still in full swing elsewhere. Meanwhile, I happily went to school every day, playing the role of the sweet, innocent daughter whenever Dad was around. I even convinced him to drive me to school a few times personally. Thanks to that, the entire school knew I had a rich CEO dad, and no one dared mess with me anymore. 0

After that, Vanessa Thorn seemed to have finally quieted down. She stayed home every day, dutifully resting and preparing for the baby. Meanwhile, I used every spare moment to hang out with Mom. We went shopping, grabbed lunch, and just wandered around town—on Dad’s dime. Naturally, Dad noticed the constant drain on his bank account and wasn’t thrilled about it. So, every time I went back to his house, I made a detour to the Whitestone Antique Market outside the city. I’d pick up the cheapest trinket I could find, have the seller wrap it up like a treasure, and take it home. Then I’d dramatically inflate the price and rave about how rare and valuable it was. Boom—instant profit. But I knew this tactic wouldn’t last forever, so I started plotting a new hustle. Before I could fully put my plans into motion, Vanessa went into labor. It was chaos getting her to St. Mary’s Medical Center, but eventually, she gave birth to a bouncing 7-pound baby boy. Dad was over the moon. He’d been waiting for this moment forever—since I was born. Now, he finally had his long-awaited son. Fresh out of recovery, Vanessa wasted no time asking Dad to take her to the Denver County Courthouse to make their marriage official. I sighed. Men like him weren’t just disloyal to one woman—they were disloyal to all women equally. To be fair, Vanessa had striking features. If she’d gone into Hollywood, she wouldn’t have been overlooked. But everyone has their priorities, and hers was to play the “trophy wife” instead of chasing her dreams. Having outmaneuvered all the other mistresses, Vanessa used her “mother of his son” card to climb the ranks and become Dad’s official wife. Once the papers were signed, her attitude changed. She started lording her new status over me, acting like a queen in her kingdom. She even dared to complain that I was disturbing her precious baby boy. I seized the opportunity and went to Dad, crying that I wasn’t welcome at home. Vanessa had just secured her golden position, so Dad granted her every wish. That meant I got the “short end of the stick”—a five-bedroom townhouse in an elite school district and a generous monthly allowance. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind more if this were what “suffering” looked like. 0

With that kind of money, the possibilities were endless. I started by visiting a nearby known university. I found a few fresh-faced college students there and paid them to post flyers advertising tutoring services. After interviewing the applicants, I hired nine tutors to work for me. Next, I scouted for clients at middle school entrance prep classes and nearby high schools. To reel parents in, I performed impressive “party tricks”: reciting the digits of pi, reciting poetry, and solving advanced math problems on the spot. And just like that, my tutoring business took off. Even before I officially moved into my school district townhouse, I’d secured all the necessary permits to run my tutoring center legally. No shady business here—I was a model citizen. The money started pouring in. I claimed I was paying my tutors high wages, but most of it went straight into my pocket. Then, I gave some of the earnings to Mom, who quietly used the funds to buy up small shares in Dad’s company, Skyward Entertainment Group. Dad might have been the largest shareholder, but he was too busy chasing skirts to notice the details of his business. When Mom’s shares added up to make her the second-largest shareholder, I was already in high school, and Vanessa’s son was three years old. Kids grow fast, and he was no exception. I only visited the Riverside Mansion during holidays; I stayed away the rest of the time, claiming I was focused on studying and planning to skip grades. Dad didn’t believe me initially, thinking I was just being stubborn. He tried to compensate me by sending me more money, which I accepted with a “heartbroken” expression. Little did he know the saying “a crooked bamboo can sprout fine shoots” applied to me. I got so caught up in my studies that I accidentally excelled during exams. My teacher, impressed, dragged me to the principal, who fast-tracked me ahead by two grade levels. It was a win, but I couldn’t pretend to be a child prodigy anymore. Dad was stunned and stopped pressuring me to return home. Instead, he gave me even more freedom, which, in hindsight, I should’ve taken advantage of earlier. One day, I looked at Vanessa’s son. His features were undeniably delicate, but none of them resembled Dad’s. If anything, he looked suspiciously like a particular actor who rose to fame in my past life. I scratched my head—time to dig deeper. That night, I reached out to Master Alaric Whitlock online. His live streams, in which he spilled celebrity gossip and told fortunes, had become my guilty pleasure. Sending him Dad’s ID photo privately, I asked him to analyze Dad’s “lineage fortune.” The old man squinted at the picture and said, “Too much Photoshop. Send me a candid shot.” I froze. How did he know I was a girl? My profile used a random guy’s photo from school! This guy had some fundamental skills. I rushed downstairs, snapped many candid shots of Dad watching TV—front, profile, close-up, everything—and uploaded them. Dad looked utterly confused, but I mumbled a weak excuse and fled. When the photos popped up on Alaric’s livestream, he sighed. “Troublesome kid, wasting my storage space.” Soon after, he confirmed my suspicions: Dad’s “child fortune” only allowed for one offspring. Me. Oh, Vanessa was about to face some serious consequences. Just as I was preparing to unleash my evidence, the hospital called. Mom had been in an accident. I raced to St. Mary’s Medical Center, only to see her through a pane of glass, her body covered in tubes. A wave of pain consumed me, sharp and relentless, as fragmented memories flooded back. I saw my past self standing beside Mom in a hospital bed, the flatline on the monitor, and the gut-wrenching scream that tore through me. Then, the scene shifted—dark skies, bloody hands, and endless despair. I jolted awake, my vision blackened by rage. Everything came back to me.

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My father, Derek Hartman, was a DEA agent who gave his life on the front lines of the drug war. Since I was a kid, I had one dream: to restore his badge number and follow in his footsteps. When I learned my scores were good enough to get into the federal law enforcement academy, I called my mom immediately to share the news. Her response was harsh: “You? A cop? With your pathetic grades? Restore your father’s badge number. Don’t embarrass him. Get lost!” Her words hit like a sledgehammer. Devastated, I wandered home, only to be ambushed in Shadow Creek Alley by a group of thugs. “Word is your dad, Derek Hartman, was a DEA hotshot. Trained a bunch of agents and made life hell for us. Let’s talk about that, shall we?” I refused to go quietly, fighting with everything I had. But they were prepared. A knife pierced my lower back, draining me of all strength. As my consciousness faded, I thought of my mom’s last words. Mom… have I disgraced Dad? Content In the early hours of the morning, Bayport police received a report about large amounts of blood found in Shadow Creek Alley. No victim was in sight. The caller assumed it was a drunken brawl gone wrong and urged the police to find the injured person quickly. Officers arrived to find the heavy rain had washed the blood into a chaotic mess. There were no signs of a victim nearby. A thorough search of the area led them to Riverside Millworks, an abandoned factory where they discovered dismembered body parts scattered across the floor. In the autopsy room, harsh fluorescent lights flickered on. “What’s the situation with this case?” A calm, authoritative voice broke the silence as a woman in a crisp forensic uniform entered, followed by two young officers. It was Dr. Vanessa Sterling-Hartman—my mother and the most respected forensic examiner in Bayport. One of the officers said hesitantly, “Dr. Hartman, the victim’s condition is… bad. Maybe you should prepare yourself…” My mom waved them off. “I’ve seen everything there is to see. Let’s start the autopsy and solve this case quickly.” Indeed, my mother had seen it all in her two-decade career—decapitations, dismemberments, even bodies dissolved in cement. She was a consummate professional. But Mom… have you ever considered that the body on your autopsy table might be the son you’ve always ignored? Floating above, detached and invisible, I watched her work without emotion. When she unzipped the body bag, her brow furrowed deeply—not just because of the mangled remains, but because one critical part was missing. “Where’s the head?” “We searched the entire factory,” one officer stammered. “It’s likely the suspects took it.” “Fine. Let’s proceed.” She donned gloves and began sorting the remains—bones, flesh, fragments of fingers. Each piece she identified was meticulously placed in order. “The victim is male. He’s between eighteen and twenty-three, roughly five-foot-nine to six feet, based on the growth plates. Likely a student,” she narrated with clinical precision. “Judging by the condition of the cuts, the killers broke the victim’s finger bones, radius, ulna, humerus, tibia, and femur while he was still alive. Then, they dismembered the limbs. It seems they weren’t satisfied and used blunt tools—his ribs and vertebrae are almost entirely shattered.” Her grim analysis left one of the young officers pale and trembling. He clutched his stomach, barely holding back nausea. The unimaginable pain and despair the victim endured hung heavy in the room. Mom turned suddenly. “Were any weapons found at the scene?” “Yes… these,” the officer stammered, handing her photos of a rusted, bloodstained saw and a hammer caked in blood and flesh. The dull blade of the saw had been used to cut through every joint and bone. The pain it inflicted on a living person was beyond description.

Mom frowned deeply. “This isn’t random. What kind of grudge would drive someone to do this to a kid?” Even revenge killings didn’t usually escalate to this level of brutality. One of the officers responded respectfully, “Dr. Hartman, Detective Sam Boone’s preliminary investigation ruled out robbery and random violence. This is a revenge killing. The team is cross-checking recent cases of missing persons citywide.” “Good,” she replied tersely. She resumed reconstructing the remains, hoping to uncover clues. But her efforts were in vain. Even dental records—often a surefire way to identify a victim—were useless because the suspects had taken the head. Identifying a person from such a pulverized, unclothed body seemed impossible. Floating nearby, I felt a strange mix of relief and sorrow. At least Mom didn’t know it was me. If she did, she’d only call me a disappointment one last time… With a heavy sigh, she muttered, “Poor kid. Whatever grudge they had with his family, why take it out on him?” For a brief moment, her eyes shimmered with tears. This was the mom I didn’t recognize. The meticulous forensic examiner piecing together every shard of bone. The compassionate woman feels for an unknown victim. It felt so foreign. I’d always known Mom didn’t like me. I remember one rainy night when I was in elementary school. I had a fever, and Mom rushed me to the hospital, letting Dad—exhausted from days of overtime—rest at home. But she didn’t know Dad got an urgent call not long after we left. He ran out without even grabbing his gear. That same night, he was killed in a shootout with a cartel kingpin. Mom was the one who handled Dad’s autopsy. I was too young to understand death back then, but now I realize how traumatic that must have been for her. Maybe Mom blamed me. If I hadn’t fallen ill that night, Dad might still be alive. Looking at her now, I couldn’t blame her. Her focus was interrupted by a sudden ringtone. She stopped mid-motion, glaring at the two officers. “It’s not us,” they said quickly. Mom checked her phone. The call was from Rachel, my aunt. “I’m busy,” Mom answered curtly. “Vanessa, do you know where Elijah is? His phone’s off, and no one’s seen him.” “Elijah?” Mom frowned. “I don’t know. I yelled at him yesterday. He’s probably sulking in some gaming café. Leave him be.” Rachel’s voice grew concerned. “You yelled at him? Vanessa, he was so excited yesterday! His scores were good enough for the academy!” “Academy? That boy needs to get a job in IT or something. Is he becoming a cop? That would be an insult to the profession.” Her voice was as sharp as ever.

Rachel hesitated momentarily before saying, “It’s always been Elijah’s dream. He worked so hard to get those scores. I even planned to celebrate with a big dinner—I bought so much seafood…” Vanessa’s anger flared. “I don’t care! If he applies to that academy, he can forget about calling me his mother. He can go rot wherever he wants!” She ended the call abruptly, her chest rising and falling in frustration as she stood over the autopsy table, silent for a long time. I’m sorry, Mom. I won’t apply to the academy. Please don’t be mad. It’s not worth your health. I wanted so badly to tell her that. But as a wandering spirit, I could only hover above and watch helplessly. I wanted to cry, but ghosts have no tears. By now, Mom had reassembled most of the body, but something was missing—two fingers from the right hand. She frowned, instructing the nearby officer. “The right ring finger and pinky are missing. Tell the team at the scene to look again. If they’re not found…” My spirit tensed. When I was a kid, I had teased a police dog and gotten bitten. Those two fingers had scars so deep they were unmistakable. That dog had to retire early because of me, and Mom had berated me endlessly. Had she forgotten? Of course, she forgot. She never cared about me… No! Maybe it’s better if she doesn’t remember. I can’t let her know she’s the one who lost both Dad and me. The young officer saluted. “Understood! If we can’t find the fingers, it likely means they had distinctive markings.” Mom nodded. “Exactly. Focus on people with old injuries or tattoos on their hands.” She cut off a small piece of flesh. “Run a DNA test. Cross-reference it with the database. Find any immediate relatives.” I felt a wave of panic. If they ran DNA tests, they’d figure it out quickly. Mom! Don’t do it. Don’t run the DNA! Drop this case! Please! But my pleas fell on deaf ears. She couldn’t hear me. Mom worked tirelessly in the autopsy room for hours. She had arrived early, and it was already dark again when she stepped out. “Dr. Hartman, you’ve worked so hard,” one of the officers said. Mom nodded slightly, about to head home when she saw Rachel waiting anxiously near the station entrance. “Vanessa, Elijah’s been missing for more than a day now! I talked to his friends—they haven’t seen him! I even checked all the gaming cafés near the school, but he was nowhere. What do we do?” Mom’s face tightened with annoyance. “This is just one of his tricks to get me to let him apply to the academy! It’s not going to work. As long as he stays out of trouble and follows the law, that’s good enough. He’s not cut out to be a cop!” Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. “Forget his applications! His safety is the priority right now! I just heard there’s been a big case—a boy was dismembered. Aren’t you even worried it could be Elijah?” Mom’s frustration erupted. “Stop speculating about open cases that haven’t been made public! Elijah is eighteen. He’s old enough to take care of himself. If something happens to him, it’s his fault for being careless and wondering where he shouldn’t!” Rachel froze. “I’m not trying to dig for information. I’m just… scared for him.” Mom’s gaze hardened. “If he can’t manage basic risk assessment, he has no business applying to the academy. He might as well go get a job at some office instead.”

“Vanessa Sterling-Hartman! Do you hear yourself? Elijah lost his father when he was just a kid. He’s already been through enough! Instead of breaking him down, you should be building him up. What kind of person are you?” Rachel’s voice cracked as she yelled, tears streaming down her face. “You better pray that poor boy, in this case,e isn’t Elijah. Because if it is, you’ll never forgive yourself!” Her words sent a jolt of fear through me. Does she know? But the look on Rachel’s face wasn’t one of certainty. She was bluffing to provoke Mom. And it worked. Mom’s face went pale, her voice defensive. “Impossible! I would know if it was my son! That boy is not Elijah!” Rachel clenched her fists. “If it is Elijah, you’re not getting those remains. You don’t care about him anyway. He belongs to the Hartman family!” Mom shot back, “Take him! Do you think I care? I’ve had enough of that dead weight anyway!” Rachel shook with anger. “You’re unbelievable, Vanessa! Elijah is a great kid; all he’s ever gotten from you is cruelty. You’re heartless! I can’t even look at you!” I floated above them, unsure how to feel. Rachel had always been there for me, especially after Dad’s death. Mom only cared for my basic needs, but Rachel filled in the gaps. She gave me my first razor and my first pair of boxers. When I wanted to apply to the academy, Rachel secretly paid for my tutoring sessions. From school supplies to gadgets, she covered it all. To Rachel, I was practically her son. As she stormed out of the station, I followed, hovering close. She pulled out her phone, hands trembling, and began typing a message. Curious, I leaned in to see. Elijah, things are dangerous out there. No matter how upset you are with your mom, you must come home. And if you can’t face her, come to me. I’ll pay for your college. Forget your mom—my door is always open. Please be safe. Tears welled up as I read her words. Rachel lost her brother, my dad, that night in the rain. Yet, she never let bitterness take root. She gave all her love to me instead. I’m sorry, Aunt Rachel. I’m afraid I’ll only let you down. I followed her for a while, but the further we got from the police station, the weaker I felt. My body—what was left of it—kept me tethered there. When I returned, I found Mom slumped in a chair, staring blankly ahead. One of the young officers approached her cautiously. “Dr. Hartman, you’ve been working nonstop for twenty hours. Please, get some rest.” Mom shook her head. “No. I can’t let this case go. I’ll rest here briefly, then go over the remains again.” The officer hesitated but nodded. “Alright.” I watched Mom’s exhausted body waver, torn between her dedication and limits. “The DNA results are in!” The announcement electrified the station. Even I felt a surge of unease. Mom, who had spent the last two nights at the station, rushed to the records room. “Did the database find a match? Who’s the victim?” “They’re running the comparison now. Give it a moment,” an officer replied. Everyone crowded around the screen, watching the progress bar creep forward. 75%… 88%… 95%… 100%. Every breath in the room was held as they waited for the result.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295206”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #重生Reborn #校园School #励志Inspiring #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic

The next time I saw Ryan Brooks, I was working at Club Renaissance, the most popular nightclub in the city. Dressed in a revealing bunny costume, tray in hand, I let the greedy eyes of the men linger on my legs as I passed by. A drunk customer bumped into me, knocking the tray from my hand, and the champagne crashed to the floor. The man was overweight, and with one slap, he struck me across the face. “You stupid girl! Do you even know how much these shoes cost?” My face stung, and my lips swelled almost immediately. I forced my aching mouth to move as I knelt down to wipe his shoes with my palm. The man seemed pleased, crouching down to grab my chin. “Not bad. How about coming with me tonight?” I smiled slightly, shaking my head. The alcohol made him bolder. Furious at my refusal, he kicked me hard in the stomach. He raised the bottle, aiming to strike me, but a tall figure stopped him. I looked up, and even after three years, I recognized him instantly—Ryan Brooks, the man I had dreamed of day and night. I was taken to a long black Lincoln limousine. Smooth piano music played, and I curled up quietly in the corner. Ryan poured himself a glass of whiskey and casually asked, “With ice?” I hesitated, nervous under his gaze. Seeing he wasn’t joking, I nodded. I sipped my champagne slowly from the crystal glass. Three years had passed, and Ryan had changed so much. The youthful boy I once knew had transformed into a man who carried himself like a king—powerful, regal, untouchable. His sculpted face, sharp features, and thin lips paired with his dark, intense eyes. Even when he lowered his gaze, you could see his long, thick eyelashes. He undid the buttons of his tailored suit, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked at me with a calm expression. “Why did you end up working as a hostess?” My face flushed, and I felt embarrassed as I tried to explain. “I’m not a hostess, I’m just a club girl…” He raised an eyebrow, his eyes filled with a mocking smile. “Is there a difference?” Of course… there wasn’t. Even though I was only making money carrying trays, in everyone else’s eyes, I was just another trashy hostess. “For your bedridden grandmother? Or was it for that little bit of tuition you needed?” Ryan’s tone was light, dripping with mockery, making me squirm in my seat. “Nina Morgan, if you agree to be my mistress, I’ll give you everything you want.” His voice was soft, but the words hit me like a bomb. I looked up at him. “Shouldn’t I be your girlfriend?” He finished his whiskey, tilting his head to look at me. “Girlfriend? Do you think you deserve that?” And just like that, I became Ryan Brooks’ mistress. He had good habits, never seeing other women, always keeping himself clean. That’s probably why I managed to stay in this role for ten long years. From the intensity of our nights together, I knew I was the only mistress he had. It sounded ridiculous, but it gave me some peace. The Morgans and the Brooks families were close since I was born, and Ryan and I were childhood sweethearts. I didn’t have any siblings, so I clung to him. We were in love with each other, even though he was always cold and distant. Still, he spoiled me endlessly. In the spring, we’d fly kites. In the summer, we’d watch the flowers bloom by the lake. In autumn, we’d walk under the tall sycamore trees, and in winter, we’d roast marshmallows at the cottage. When my parents fought, he comforted me. When I forgot my holiday homework, he stayed up all night helping me finish it. We promised to attend the same school. He would propose to me, become my lifelong partner, and make me the happiest woman in the world. But everything stopped that day. Ryan and I had gone back to my house after school, just like we always did, when we got the call from the police. My mom and Ryan’s dad had left suicide notes before driving off a cliff into the sea.

By the time we got to the scene, a crane was pulling the car out of the water. My mom and Ryan’s dad were lying on the beach, their bodies bloated from the water and starting to smell in the summer heat. I don’t remember how much I cried that day. All I know is that on the way to identify the bodies, Ryan’s mom was in a car accident. In just one day, he lost both his parents. He grabbed me by the neck, his face streaked with tears, but he smiled bitterly. “Nina, I don’t have a home anymore. What should I do?” I didn’t know how to comfort him, so I just hugged him and cried. Before he left, he looked at me with empty eyes. “Nina, I hate you.” After that, I never saw Ryan Brooks again. I heard that after his parents’ deaths, his uncle took over the family fortune. I tried looking for him many times, but he refused to meet me. Before long, I heard he had gone abroad to study, with the help of family friends his parents had before they died. I didn’t have it easy, either. My mom had barely died when my dad brought his mistress into the house. That’s when I found out that not only had my dad been seeing someone behind my mom’s back, but that he also had a daughter about my age. Now I had to call my dad’s mistress “Mom” and her daughter my “sister.” Speaking of that “sister,” I owe my job at the nightclub to her. Since Chloe Morgan arrived, my life had spiraled downward. I had no allowance, and my dad kicked me out to live in an old shed in the outskirts of town with my sick grandmother. I had to fend for myself, or I would’ve starved to death. One day, I saw a black Bentley pull up outside. Ryan Brooks was back. I took off my bathrobe, revealing the champagne-colored slip underneath. Ryan was the one keeping me alive. If it weren’t for his help, my grandmother wouldn’t have been in the hospital. He was unpredictable. I always had to be on guard around him. If I made the slightest mistake, I wouldn’t get any sleep that night. When I got downstairs, the butler was already holding the door for him. I rushed to greet him with slippers and a basin of warm water for his feet. Ryan leaned back on the couch, watching me intently. His gaze made my skin crawl, and I hesitantly asked, “You’re home early today. Tired? Should I make the bed for you?” He didn’t say anything, just handed me a red velvet box. “I saw this in the store window. It’s beautiful. I thought you’d like it.” I stared at the box, swallowing hard. “Is it a bracelet?” He shook his head, his eyes darkening with something more menacing. Fear ran cold through me, draining the color from my face. “Then it must be a necklace. I love necklaces. Thank you.” I reached for it, but he suddenly opened the box and wrapped the necklace tightly around my throat. I hadn’t expected it, and the chain nearly cut off my air supply. I struggled desperately to breathe. His breath was hot against my ear, and just when I thought I would die, he released his grip and fastened the necklace around my neck. “Pure ruby red. If I had squeezed a little harder, the blood from your veins would’ve been the same color, don’t you think?” I clutched the cold gemstone at my chest, gasping for air. It had been ten years, and he had never stopped finding ways to torture me—letting me experience death up close. And every time, it was always suffocation. I knew deep down, he wanted me to relive the shame and horror of my mother and his father’s deaths, to never forget the humiliation of our past. When the night was finally over, I went upstairs to take a shower. Ryan was a clean freak, so I had to scrub myself thoroughly, inside and out. When I got out of the bathroom, he was gone. After searching the house, I found the light on in the study. Good. He had work to do. That meant I could finally get some sleep. I turned around, only to bump into his broad chest. The familiar smell of cigarettes washed over me, and I almost fell to my knees in fear. Ryan stood there holding a cup of coffee, glaring down at me. He hung up the phone he was holding, but I still heard the sweet, sugary voice of the woman on the other end.

“What are you doing?” My shoulders trembled, and I lowered my head. “I’m going to sleep,” I murmured. Ryan Brooks gave a soft smile and pulled me into the bedroom. Tonight, he was unusually gentle. I let myself get lost in the moment, pretending, for once, that we were a real couple, entangled in passion through the night. When we were done, I got up and began dressing. It was his rule—I wasn’t allowed to stay the night in his room. He said it was because he found it “dirty.” He leaned on his hand, watching me with an amused expression. Casually, he tossed a card toward me. I glanced at it, confused. “I already have a limitless card—you gave it to me, remember?” Ryan smiled, the kind of smile that made him look like a cunning fox. “Tomorrow’s your mother’s death anniversary. Why don’t you buy some ‘paper money’ for her?” His next words cut deep. “Better take a little extra to keep her mouth shut down there. Otherwise, the other lost souls might mock her, calling her a cheap whore who seduced a married man.” I was furious. Ryan always knew exactly where to strike, never missing a chance to twist the knife. He hated when anyone brought up the past, and so did I. “Ryan, can’t you have just a bit of decency?” I spat out. He didn’t care about my anger. “Decency? Does a woman who broke up someone’s family deserve decency?” Tears welled up in my eyes, and I glared at him, wishing my gaze could burn a hole right through him. He got up, grabbing my neck. His muscles flexed, and for a moment, it felt like he could snap my neck with just a little more pressure. “Are you going to cry now? Poor little thing. A whore raised by a whore. You’ve already sold yourself; why not go all the way? What’s the point of pretending to have morals?” “If you make your benefactor mad and lose your chance to make money, your mom might curse you for being bad at your job.” Blinded by rage, I slapped him across the face. “This isn’t my fault, Ryan! Why are you treating me like this?” He tilted his head, cold light flashing in his eyes. The oppressive silence suffocated me. Just as I was about to run, he grabbed my waist and threw me onto the bed. That night, I endured unspeakable torment. My cries echoed through the bedroom until the early morning. By the time the light crept through the windows, Ryan had already left. I dragged my exhausted body downstairs, where the maids were preparing breakfast. Seeing my disheveled appearance, they all kept their distance, avoiding eye contact. The events of last night must’ve been heard by everyone. “Where’s Ryan?” My voice was hoarse as I asked. “Miss Riley has returned from abroad. Mr. Brooks went to pick her up,” one of the maids said, hastily setting down the breakfast and practically fleeing the room. I sat there, stirring the bowl of porridge absentmindedly. Riley Carter, heiress of the Carter Group, was the one who funded Ryan’s education abroad after his parents’ death. I’d only met Riley once when I was very young. It was at Ryan’s birthday party, and I still remember the proud way he introduced her, saying that I would be his future wife. I didn’t have much to do with Riley. Frankly, I didn’t care to know more about her. The weather was beautiful today, and I felt the need to get out. The driver dropped me off at the street corner, where I bought a bouquet of white chrysanthemums and took a taxi to the cemetery. The cemetery was old and overgrown with weeds, looking like it hadn’t been tended in years. I placed the flowers on my mother’s grave and started pulling out the surrounding weeds. My mother lay peacefully beneath the earth, while her picture on the tombstone had already faded with time. But even in the photograph, her gentle eyes smiled softly. I never understood what drew my mother to Ryan’s father or what kind of love story they had. I only knew that their tragic affair had dragged Ryan and me into hell. I leaned against the tombstone, gazing at the sky. The blue was so pure, dotted with fluffy white clouds, and for a moment, I felt lighter, as if I could breathe again. But the sudden ringing of my phone interrupted my thoughts. I fumbled for my phone, seeing the familiar number. My heart clenched. “Hello?” I answered, clutching the phone tightly, but there was silence on the other end. Swallowing hard, I spoke again, “What made you call? Don’t you have a meeting today?” Still no response. I knew this was Ryan sulking. I didn’t dare say more, waiting quietly. After a moment, I heard him take a sip of something, his tone growing lazy. “You’re out?” “Yes, just shopping,” I lied, my hands and feet tingling with fear. I had lied to him many times before, but I could never tell if he believed me or if he was playing along. All I knew was that if he ever found out, I’d be in serious trouble. Then came a low chuckle from the other end of the line. “Nina, you’re cold-blooded. Shopping on your mother’s death anniversary? What a devoted daughter you are.” I bit my lip, letting him ridicule me. I knew that the only reason he had called was to throw salt in the wound, just because of today’s significance. It had been like this for ten years. When he was done mocking me, he asked, “Did you buy anything? Something for me, perhaps?” Cold sweat trickled down my back. “I haven’t found anything yet. What would you like?” He laughed again. “Even though it’s your mom’s death anniversary, you wouldn’t want your benefactor to be tainted by bad luck, would you? Dead people aren’t worth as much as the living.” I swallowed my tears, pretending to be indifferent. “I understand.” “Come home later. I’ll pick you up tonight.” And with that, he hung up. That house. It was the last place I wanted to go, especially on a day like today. Going back to the Morgan Family Estate only meant more disdain, but I couldn’t disobey Ryan’s orders.

I left the cemetery and headed to the nearest mall. I casually picked out a designer watch, making sure to remind the sales associate that I wanted the latest model. Ryan had given me a black card with no spending limit. I could swipe it as much as I wanted. I had thought about buying a house and running away with my grandmother, but Ryan would be notified of every transaction. Plus, all the medical expenses for my grandmother were handled by his assistant. I couldn’t make a move without risking everything. If he ever found out I planned to escape, I’d be doomed. The watch was expensive, but I paid for it with my own card. I also picked up some groceries and rushed over to the estate. It was just about dinnertime at the house. The housekeeper looked awkward when she saw me, then handed me a pair of disposable slippers. I didn’t care much about the cold reception and headed into the living room with the gifts I’d brought. Diane Morgan, my stepmother, was sitting on the couch, painting her nails and watching TV. She muttered, “That old housekeeper must be losing her mind, letting any stray cat or dog in here. Doesn’t she worry about catching some disease?” Then she noticed me and flashed a fake smile, holding her coffee cup up as if to toast me. “Well, Nina’s here. Have a seat.” I nodded and deliberately placed the gifts in the most visible corner, making it clear I wasn’t here to freeload. She glanced at the gifts, her expression full of disdain. “Next time, don’t bother wasting money like that. Your dad and I don’t eat knock-offs.” Ignoring her insults, I moved to sit down, but she suddenly shrieked, her voice shrill and mocking. “Where’s the housekeeper? Get over here! The couch is contaminated by someone who’s been on the streets!” I froze mid-squat as the housekeeper rushed over to cover the couch with several layers of plastic wrap beneath me. I decided not to sit after all, standing there instead, watching them. Just then, Chloe Morgan came downstairs, and her face immediately soured when she saw me. “Oh, no wonder it stinks in here. The plague has arrived,” Chloe sneered as she pushed past me and cuddled up next to Diane. “Mom, she smells awful. You should kick her out!” Diane caressed Chloe’s flawless skin like she was a precious gem, her expression gentle and loving, but her words were laced with venom. “What can I do, sweetie? The girl’s got legs of her own. I can’t stop her from coming in here to beg for our money.” Chloe pouted, picking a grape from the fruit bowl. That’s when I noticed the diamond bracelet on her wrist—my mother’s bracelet. It wasn’t just the bracelet. My mother had owned a lot of jewelry, all of it passed down from my grandmother as part of her dowry. But after my mother’s death, the estate had been absorbed into my dad’s possessions. Furious, I lunged forward, grabbing Chloe’s wrist to rip the bracelet off. She slapped me across the face. “What are you, crazy? Do you want me to have you arrested for robbery?” I wasn’t going to take it anymore. I yanked her up from the couch and slapped her across the face—twice. The loud smacks echoed through the room. Chloe had always been pampered, like a delicate flower kept safely in a greenhouse. Her skin wasn’t used to the rough treatment I endured every day. Her lips quickly swelled from the blows. “This is my mother’s dowry. What gives you the right to take it?” Chloe had clearly never expected me to actually hit her. She collapsed on the floor, screaming and crying. I took the opportunity to yank the bracelet off her wrist. Seeing her precious daughter in distress, Diane rolled up her sleeves and rushed at me, grabbing a handful of my hair. My mother had been a lady of grace and refinement, but Diane and Chloe were different. Despite living in luxury for years, their true nature showed when provoked. Diane clawed at my hair, screaming every vulgar insult she could muster, dragging my family’s name through the dirt. The words were filthy, words I wouldn’t repeat. But I wasn’t about to let her walk all over me. If acting crazy meant survival, I could play that game, too. I bit down hard on her wrist, making her howl in pain. Chloe jumped in to help her mother, but I kicked her away with a hard shove. Diane had wormed her way into my parents’ marriage, and it didn’t take long after my mom’s death for her to move in like she owned the place. She even kicked my grandmother and me out of the family home. I had to juggle school and work just to support us, and every so often, Diane and Chloe would show up to harass us. I’ll never forget the night it was pouring rain. My grandmother had a heart attack, and Diane threw us out of the storage shed where we lived. I knelt outside in the rain, begging for mercy, but Chloe had someone tear the roof off the shed. Everything I owned—my furniture, even my college acceptance letter—was soaked and ruined. Chloe caught a cold after that, and my dad came to the hospital just to beat me, then cut off my grandmother’s access to life-saving medication. Suddenly, I understood Ryan’s hatred toward me. After all, when his family’s fortune was taken from him, he was left at the mercy of others. He must’ve suffered the way I did. I could hate my dad, Diane, and Chloe, but who could Ryan hate, if not me? As Diane continued to wail, she suddenly collapsed, clutching her chest, gasping for breath. She looked pitiful, tears streaming down her face. I hadn’t even processed what was happening when I felt a strong hand grab the back of my head. In one swift motion, I was hurled across the room. I crashed into the wine cabinet, sending crystal glasses tumbling down. One of the shards sliced a deep gash across my hand, blood dripping onto the floor. “Calm down, Diane. She’s still a child,” I heard a familiar voice say. It was my father, Richard Morgan, the man who had abandoned me. “Dad, it’s my fault! I made her mad!” Chloe cried, rushing into his arms, tears and snot covering her face. “I just wanted to give my bracelet to her, but I guess her taste is too high for cheap things like this.” I couldn’t take it anymore. I shoved the bracelet toward my father, fury burning in my chest. “This was my mother’s dowry. What right does anyone have to take it from me?” Richard Morgan looked down at me with cold indifference. “When your mother married into the Morgan family, her things became the family’s property.” “Considering what she did, do you really think you have a claim to it? You ungrateful little brat. Do I need to remind you of your place?” Tears threatened to spill, but I held them back. “You have another child now. So who’s really at fault—my mother or you?” As expected, another slap came down on my face, so hard it made my teeth rattle. I staggered back, barely managing to stay upright, when I felt a pair of strong hands steadying me. I turned, and there stood Ryan, his face impassive as ever. He addressed my father with a calm, detached voice. “Apologies, Mr. Morgan. I’m here to take Nina home.” Ryan let go of me, and the moment he appeared, the tension in the room thickened. Mr. Morgan’s eyes narrowed, and Chloe stopped crying, her face lighting up. She hurried toward Ryan, throwing herself into his arms. “Ryan, thank God you’re here! My sister’s gone crazy! She really scared me.” I stood there, frozen. I had no idea what to say, what kind of expression to wear. It felt like my world had tilted, leaving me standing on unsteady ground.

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My arrogant roommate recently snagged herself a “trust fund guy” boyfriend and has made it her mission to make my life miserable. She even stole my scholarship, then rallied a bunch of people online to bash me. “Oh, look at the campus star,” she sneered, “Too proud to donate a dime for her roommate’s family even though her ‘scholarship boyfriend’ just gave a million!” I was speechless. The anonymous million-dollar donor was me. When she saw I didn’t react, she brought her boyfriend over to “put me in my place.” Wait, isn’t that… my family’s security guard? How did he end up driving my car to take girls on dates? 1、 Recently, my roommate Danielle Clementine has been dating a “trust fund guy,” and she flaunts it around the dorm nonstop. “Hey, check out this Tiffany bracelet he got me. Isn’t it gorgeous?” Danielle raised her wrist to catch the sunlight, making sure the bracelet sparkled just right. “Wow, that must’ve cost thousands! Your boyfriend’s so good to you!” “For real! Does he have any friends? Set us up!” The other girls gathered around her, laying on the compliments thick. They practically worshipped her, making Danielle beam like she’d just won an award. She even tossed around high-end cosmetics from her stash, and the others scrambled to grab whatever they could, fawning over her even more. I was off to the side, reading quietly, not joining the chorus. This caught Danielle’s attention, and she gave me a sour look. “Sophie, don’t you think this Tiffany bracelet is stunning? Way better than that cheap silver bangle you’re always wearing, right?” I glanced at her “Tiffany” bracelet and knew right away it was a knockoff. My “plain” silver bracelet? A limited-edition piece from Tiffany’s. But seeing Danielle so proud of her “luxury” item, I held back. “Yeah, it’s really pretty. My little silver bracelet is nothing special.” Danielle’s smile widened, clearly pleased, and she came over and snapped my book shut. “Sophie, you really need to invest in some decent jewelry. It’s embarrassing standing next to you.” I was at a loss for words. Everyone knew Danielle’s background wasn’t exactly high-end; her family wasn’t even middle-class. She’d lived in cheap T-shirts and jeans before this “boyfriend” came along, and now she acted like a celebrity. I nodded absentmindedly, trying to remember what page I was on before she interrupted. Alexa Wind, another roommate, joined Danielle, looping her arm around Danielle’s. “Don’t worry about her. You and she aren’t even in the same league. Let’s have dinner together tonight. I want to hear more about you and your boyfriend!” Danielle smirked and raised her voice. “No can do. I’m going out with my boyfriend tonight.” Jealousy flickered in Alexa’s eyes. “Oh, at a fancy restaurant, right? Be sure to post on your feed!” Danielle said nothing, applying makeup for a solid fifteen minutes before putting on her one dress that cost more than $500, strutting out like a high-society swan. That evening, I ordered spicy gumbo and was eating happily in the dorm when Alexa squealed over her phone, “Danielle just posted! Look! Foie gras, caviar, red wine, steak… Oh my gosh!” A group of roommates crowded around to see, and Alexa glanced at my gumbo with a disdainful look. “Some people go on fancy dates with trust fund guys, and some just stay home with cheap gumbo. Isn’t the difference staggering?” I looked down at my steaming bowl of gumbo. Eating gumbo was a crime now? Seeing I wasn’t reacting, Alexa waved her phone in front of my face. “See? Danielle and her boyfriend are just so perfect together.” I glanced at the picture, and immediately my interest was piqued. The “trust fund guy” with his arm around Danielle? My family’s new security guard! My dad struck it rich with his first jackpot win and eventually made millions in Seattle through successful investments. During high school, I had everything: designer clothes, a chauffeur, and more. But the downside? I nearly got kidnapped. After that, Dad insisted I keep a low profile when I went to college. Even though he’d bought a mansion for me in Greenwich, Connecticut, near Columbia University, he encouraged me to stay on campus with other students. I was still used to high-quality clothes, so when people noticed, I started calling them knockoffs to keep a low profile. Eventually, everyone assumed I was a bit of a poser with a taste for imitation brands. I didn’t care—I was here to study. My dad never got the chance to go to college, so he always told me, “We may have nothing but money, but you study hard and make me proud!” A wall at home was covered with certificates of my achievements, each probably worth pennies, but each framed and tended to by the housekeeper. One time, Dad even climbed a ladder to glue a loose corner back on one of the frames. I came to college aiming to win scholarships every year. Money didn’t matter; it was all about the honor. I spent most of my time in the library and rarely went home to the mansion. Recently, we had to replace one of our security guards, so the previous one recommended his nephew, Tony James. He seemed responsible, so I didn’t hesitate to hire him. And here he was, passing himself off as a rich boyfriend for Danielle! As the roommates huddled around Danielle’s post, I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. 2 Danielle came back from her date, wearing a knockoff Chanel outfit and carrying a pile of gifts. One by one, she unwrapped them, and the roommates fawned over her. “Danielle, that Chanel looks amazing on you.” “Wow, a Gucci perfume too! Can I just hold it for a second?” “So jealous! You had a date at a five-star hotel, right?” Danielle didn’t stop smiling, even sneaking a glance my way as she unwrapped a bag and held it up. “Hey, Sophie, I remember you have a similar Hermès. Wanna bring it out so we can compare?” I took out an earbud, barely responding when Danielle opened my locker, pulling out my Hermès tote to place it beside hers. Danielle raised her voice. “Wow, Sophie, your tote doesn’t look quite the same as mine, does it?” The difference was obvious. Danielle’s was brighter, had thicker edging, and felt smoother—traits of a knockoff. Feigning surprise, Danielle said, “How strange! Mine’s a gift from my boyfriend. Yours came from home, didn’t it?” Alexa, catching Danielle’s hint, chimed in, “Oh yeah, Sophie did start college with knockoffs. Makes sense her bag isn’t the real deal.” Alexa continued, “Sophie, buying fake designer stuff doesn’t change your background. If you’re always flaunting knockoffs, it’s just going to cloud your perspective.” Danielle beamed at Alexa’s support, then turned to me with a condescending look. “I’d rather not have a roommate who doesn’t know right from wrong.” The two of them clearly expected me to cower, but I kept my cool, suppressing the urge to slap down the receipts right in front of them. Dad’s advice flashed in my mind, so I reined it in. “Danielle, did you ask permission before rummaging through my stuff? And Alexa, you’ve got a real knack for flattery. You two make a great team.” Danielle scoffed and picked up a pair of scissors. “Well, if I hadn’t looked, I’d never know just how far your vanity goes. I’ll be nice and help you out by cutting up this knockoff.” She aimed the scissors at my bag, and Alexa stepped closer, urging the others to hold me down. Completely unfazed, I said calmly, “Danielle, go ahead. But if you make a single cut, you’re paying for it.” “Even if this is a fake Hermès, it’s still worth thousands. You sure you can cover it?” After a pause, Danielle backed down, sulking as she put the scissors away. She threw me a glare before retreating. I hadn’t expected Danielle to cave that easily. The cheapest Hermès knockoff could cost just a few hundred bucks, probably around what Danielle’s bag was worth. I glanced her way and said, “Clean up my locker when you’re done.” Alexa sneered, “Sophie, don’t push it.” Danielle ignored me, humming to herself as she cleaned up. But I wasn’t letting it go. “Danielle, I’ll only ask once more. Clean my locker.” Danielle rolled her eyes, acting indifferent, but I stood up, kicked her chair, and said firmly, “I won’t ask again.” My roommates were all rich kids, unused to confrontation, and froze. Even Alexa went silent. Danielle gave a small shiver but reluctantly came over to clean up. I heard her mumble an insult under her breath, but I didn’t care. When she finished, I checked my now-organized locker, then returned to my seat and started reading my textbook out loud. The dorm went completely quiet, my voice clear as day. 3 I didn’t give Danielle much more thought, putting all my energy into earning a scholarship. My GPA was the highest in the department, I aced all my physical exams, and I participated in every scholarship-eligible event. So imagine my shock on award day when Danielle’s name topped the list for the National Merit Scholarship—and mine was nowhere to be found, not even a minor award. The hours I’d poured into studying, the sweat I’d shed—all a joke. Fuming, I checked my records. My scores were all top-tier except for “character,” where Ms. Julia Lambert had marked me as “unsatisfactory.” Heart pounding with anger and confusion, I marched to Ms. Lambert’s office. Upon entering, I found Danielle sitting there, smiling, as if she had just received an award. “Wow, didn’t expect to get so lucky. Guess hard work doesn’t always pay off, huh, Sophie?” Ignoring her, I asked, “Ms. Lambert, I have a question about the scholarship results.” Ms. Lambert sighed, adjusting her glasses, and said coldly, “Sophie, academics aren’t everything. You lack teamwork and character, so I couldn’t recommend you for the scholarship.” I was stunned. As a class rep, I got along with everyone and often lent my notes before exams. I’d done nothing to deserve this… except maybe clash with my roommates. Danielle’s guilty expression confirmed my suspicion. Taking a deep breath, I calmly turned to Ms. Lambert. “Ms. Lambert, basing this on one person’s word seems unfair.” Ms. Lambert’s face hardened. “Are you questioning my decision?” Danielle piled on. “Oh, Ms. Lambert, don’t bother with her. Sophie can be pretty low-brow.” I couldn’t help but notice Ms. Lambert’s “Tiffany” bracelet, a familiar knockoff. “Ms. Lambert, that Tiffany bracelet—you got that from Danielle, didn’t you?” Leaving Ms. Lambert speechless, I exited, saying, “If I can’t get justice here, there’s always the Dean.” Danielle sneered, “Go ahead. I’d love to see you try.” In the hallway, whispers buzzed about the scholarship. The room fell silent as I passed, except for Alexa’s mocking voice. “Well, look who’s here—the top student. Can’t even snag a scholarship?” I ignored her, called the Dean’s office, and when I couldn’t reach him, sent a long email detailing everything with evidence attached. After a week of waiting and disappointment, I had just given up when my phone buzzed. It was a message from Dad: “Don’t forget about your old man now that you’ve won! Keep up the good work.” Choked with emotion, I video-called my parents, finally letting the tears flow as I explained everything. Mom was furious, slapping Dad on the shoulder. “Frank, you call the Dean right now and demand this counselor be fired!” I sniffled, “I’ve tried; they don’t respond. What can Dad do?” Dad scratched his head. “Didn’t I tell you? I’m on the board of trustees.” Before I could react, the Dean called personally, apologizing and promising immediate action. Right as Danielle strutted in, the Dean’s voice rang through the speaker, “As per school policy, your roommate will face disciplinary action and return the scholarship.” Danielle burst out laughing. “Really, Sophie? Did you just hire someone to pretend they’re the Dean? That’s hilarious!”

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My name is Bryce Miller, and I just turned thirty. I consider myself a winner in life. I own a house and a car, I have a respectable job with a stable income, and a beautiful wife. Life is pretty perfect. Oh, and when I say house and car, I mean top of the line. But recently, I’ve been troubled. My wife, Rebecca, is pregnant. She’s three months along. Of course, that’s good news. I’ve never been against having kids. In fact, I’ve dreamed of having a child of my own, and I’m excited for the arrival of this new life. But with Rebecca being pregnant, she can’t be intimate with me. I’m a healthy man in my prime, and I still have needs. I can’t just take care of things myself every night, right? I hold myself to high standards. I’ve always been a law-abiding man, and I’d never do something like hire an escort. So, I turned to Chloe Morgan, my wife’s best friend. Yep, exactly the kind of “turning” you’re thinking of. Rebecca and I met in college and started working at Broadway Financial Group right after graduation. A year later, Chloe joined the company too. Chloe didn’t go to our school, but she and Rebecca had known each other since college and hit it off well. They became inseparable. Chloe was over at our house all the time, practically like family. She worked in my department, so we saw each other a lot. One night, after working late, it was around eight in the evening, and it was winter. I offered to drive Chloe home. When we got to her apartment building, she asked if I wanted to come up for a drink. I knew exactly what she was suggesting. And since I knew, I went along with it. Upstairs, she changed into this lacy, see-through slip and brought me a drink. I took a sip and couldn’t stop staring at her. One thing led to another, and sitting down for a drink turned into “doing something else”—the kind of “something” you can only do in bed. When I got home, Rebecca was still waiting up for me. I felt a little guilty. But soon enough, my head was filled with thoughts of Chloe’s amazing body, and that night, I dreamed about our time together. That’s when I realized why people cheat—man, it’s exciting. Once there’s a first time, there’s a second. And a third. Sometimes at her apartment, sometimes at a hotel like the Hilton Nashville Downtown. At first, I felt bad. But after a few times, I stopped feeling guilty. I convinced myself that I was just a man with needs. It was only physical. I was still 100% in love with Rebecca, still dedicated to my family. I had no plans to leave her or start a new life with Chloe. And Chloe? She was easygoing. Anytime I wanted to meet up, she’d come, always willing and able, no matter what. We even texted each other all sorts of dirty messages when we had nothing better to do. Honestly, Chloe was just trouble—a real-life temptress. How on earth did Rebecca end up with a friend like that? What did she do in a past life to deserve this? By the end of the year, Rebecca’s belly was growing, and I was more attentive to her than ever. On top of that, work was crazy busy. Year-end projects had me working day and night, so I didn’t have much time for Chloe. After all, work and family come first. Sneaking around with a mistress is just a side hobby. Chloe sent me a few messages, some of them with sexy photos—some of her wearing next to nothing. I just replied coolly, telling her I was too busy and we’d catch up later. She even came to my office once, giving me those flirty looks, but I pretended not to notice. In a company full of people, what could she say? There was no way she’d make a scene. A few days later, I heard she’d found a new boyfriend, some rich guy. Eventually, she quit her job and moved down south with him. I figured our affair had just fizzled out. As long as we both kept quiet, who would ever know we’d slept together? To everyone else, it was just a fleeting dream. A month passed, and New Year’s was coming. One night, Rebecca and I were in bed. She was on her phone, chatting with someone. Worried she might be getting too tired, I told her it was time to sleep. She nodded and then turned to me, “Honey, I need to ask you something. My best friend wants to stay with us for a while.” “Which friend?” “Chloe.”

“Who?” “Chloe Morgan—you know, from your department. My best friend, the pretty one.” Rebecca blinked at me, her expression a little odd. She thought I’d forgotten who Chloe was. I quickly steadied myself. “Of course, I remember. What’s up with her?” Rebecca snorted, “She ran into a jerk. You know the type—those guys who hit it and quit it. Honey, don’t you think guys like that are disgusting? Married, but still out there looking for women. After they get what they want, they disappear. Now Chloe’s in a bad spot.” “Yeah… that’s awful.” What else could I say? I had to agree with her. I couldn’t exactly tell Rebecca, “Yep, your husband’s that kind of guy too.” Rebecca kept going, “He took all her money and ditched her. Now she can’t even pay her rent. Honey, let her stay here for a while. I’m pregnant, and she could help take care of me.” There was no way I could agree to that. Sure, I was into thrills, but having my mistress live under the same roof as my wife? That wasn’t thrilling—that was suicidal. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. If she needs a place to stay, I can help her find one—a hotel, maybe a short-term rental?” Rebecca shook her head immediately, “No, that won’t work. She’s really fragile right now. She was crying the whole time when we met up yesterday. I’m worried she might do something drastic. Please, honey, let her stay. She won’t be any trouble, and she’ll really help take care of me. After all, we’re best friends.” What could I say after that? I had no choice but to agree. Rebecca handled human resources at work and was known for being tough. If she hadn’t gotten married and pregnant, she’d probably be in a higher position than me by now. Plus, her dad was friends with the company’s owner. I wasn’t about to argue with her. I felt even guiltier toward Rebecca. She had sacrificed so much for our family, and here I was, cheating with her best friend. I silently promised that I’d make it up to her, that I’d treat her right from now on. Otherwise, may I be struck by lightning. They say a man’s promises are empty lies. Turns out, that’s true. We don’t just lie to women—we lie to ourselves. The next day, Chloe showed up. She looked a lot worse than before—clearly, the breakup had taken a toll on her. The moment she saw Rebecca, they were inseparable, chatting away and leaving me completely out of the picture. I found a moment to ask Rebecca, “She doesn’t seem that bad. I thought you said she was struggling?” Rebecca hushed me, “Don’t be fooled. She’s putting on a brave face, but inside, she’s a wreck. Stop saying that. Oh, and you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” I wanted to say more, but Chloe was already calling Rebecca’s name. Rebecca gave me a push and went over to her, tossing my bedding onto the couch on her way. Rebecca was just too kind. At dinner, Chloe’s foot nudged me under the table. I ignored her. Then she slipped off her high heels and rubbed my leg with her stockinged foot. I couldn’t take it. I got up and stopped eating. Rebecca asked what was wrong, and I just said I was full. After dinner, Rebecca scolded me privately, saying I was rude to Chloe and that I didn’t want her staying with us. I didn’t argue. I just wanted to sleep. The two women kept talking in the bedroom, chatting until well past ten. I’d had a long, stressful day. The moment my head hit the pillow on the couch, I was out. Around one or two in the morning, I felt someone snuggling up next to me. I opened my eyes to find Chloe lying beside me, wearing the same see-through slip she’d worn the night I first cheated on Rebecca. “Bryce, you haven’t forgotten about me, have you?” Then, she pounced on me, knowing exactly what to do. I broke out in a cold sweat. This was my home! And Rebecca was just in the next room!

　I remember the last time Chloe and I were at her place, we were also on the couch. My mind told me to resist, but my body didn’t listen. It wasn’t until we heard a noise from the bedroom that Chloe finally got up from the couch. She tossed her hair and said, “Rebecca’s awake. I should head back. We can pick this up next time.” She gave me a mischievous smile, her eyes full of teasing. I turned my head to avoid looking at her, but I couldn’t get her out of my mind. The dim light in the room cast shadows, and I saw myself slumped on the couch, looking as pathetic as ever. It’s the same old story—once you do it the first time, the second time comes easily, and after the second, it just keeps happening. And just like that, Chloe and I reignited our affair. Sneaking around with my mistress under my wife’s nose—it was reckless, I knew that. But I couldn’t stop. There were times when Rebecca almost caught us. But Chloe was always quick to cover for me, helping me get away just in time. I even used my connections to get Chloe back into the company. That way, we could see each other more, and naturally, seeing each other led to… well, you know. Chloe would joke that Rebecca—my wife and her “best friend”—asked her to keep an eye on me to make sure I wasn’t cheating. She would laugh as she said it, and in her mind, Rebecca was nothing more than a fool. A couple of days later, Chloe told me she was feeling better and that she was ready to move out. Rebecca didn’t stop her. In fact, she asked me to help Chloe with the move. Chloe told Rebecca she was planning to find a boyfriend who would treat her well. Rebecca asked, “How well?” Chloe gave me a sly glance and said, “Oh, as well as your husband does.” Rebecca just laughed, thinking Chloe was joking. A few days before New Year’s, my parents came to stay with us. With Rebecca being pregnant, it was hard for her to do much, so they were there to help. Mostly, it was my mom doing the work. My dad, well, he did what he could—some household chores, running errands. Dad was in great shape. He’d served in the military when he was younger, and even in his sixties, he was fit. He had more black hair than gray, and he took walks every morning and evening. It was that very habit that led to him stumbling upon me and Chloe. It all started simply enough. Rebecca had invited Chloe over for dinner. She even asked if Chloe had any plans for the evening, like a date. Chloe said she didn’t, but she had her eye on someone. Rebecca kept pressing, asking if she knew him. Chloe dodged the question with a smile. I drove Chloe home after dinner. We got to her apartment complex, and she told me to stop the car. I wasn’t sure what she was up to, but I pulled over anyway. Without warning, she lunged into my lap, saying she wanted a little “affection” before heading inside. Before I could object, she was already making her move. I’m the type of guy who can’t resist women—especially someone like Chloe, who’s clingy and seductive. I guess I’m one of those men they say think with their lower half. After we’d had our fun and were tidying ourselves up, I was about to drive into the complex when I suddenly noticed someone standing at the entrance. It was my dad. I broke into a cold sweat. Dad was strict—if he found out… it would be a disaster. That night at dinner, Chloe had my mom laughing so hard she nearly cried. Dad joined in too, but every time I met his eyes, there was an icy look in them that made me nervous. After dinner, Rebecca asked me to take Chloe home. At her apartment building, she turned to me and asked, “Do you prefer boys or girls? You probably want a boy, right? Since you’re an only child, you need to carry on the family name.” I didn’t respond. Chloe continued, “Rebecca’s carrying a girl. Trust me.” “I’d be happy with a girl,” I replied. “And if we want a boy, we can always have another.” “Oh? But Rebecca said she doesn’t want more kids. She’s focused on her career. You’re lucky she’s having one for you.” She leaned in close, whispering in my ear, “I’ll give you as many kids as you want.” I glared at her and pointed to the door. “Get out.” When I got home, it was late. I yawned and pushed open the door. My parents were in the living room. Before I could say anything, my dad slapped me hard across the face, nearly knocking me over. “Dad, what the—” “You know what this is about!” And I did know. I dropped to my knees in front of him. “Dad, I messed up. I lost my head for a moment. I swear, it’s over between us.” My mom tugged at my dad’s sleeve, urging him to calm down. Dad sighed heavily and spoke in a low voice, “You better remember what you just said. End it with that woman, or you’re going to destroy this family.” I nodded hard, and in my mind, I told myself the same thing—I had to cut things off with Chloe for good.

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The CEO wants to take my kidney for his first love. I was drugged and sent to a private hospital, but little did he know, the surgeon was my own brother. I begged the CEO to leave with me quickly, but he refused. What he didn’t know was that once he stepped into this hospital, he would never leave alive. Because my brother is a serial killer, my mother is a professional at dismembering bodies, and my father is a sociopath. And I am the family’s precious darling. “I won’t sign this contract.” I looked up at Lucas Sterling, pushing back the document that would require me to sell my kidney. “It’s okay, Lucas. Don’t force Aria. As long as you’re with me in my final days, that’s enough,” Sophia, sitting next to Lucas, spoke softly. I stared at them, trying to control my emotions despite telling myself not to care about them anymore. To an outsider, they might look like a couple. In reality, I was Lucas’s girlfriend of two years. Seeing Sophia’s understanding attitude, Lucas’s gaze towards me grew even more disdainful. “Aria, I’ve already promised you that once you donate a kidney to Sophia, you can marry into the Sterling family. You won’t have to work, and you’ll have everything you need. It’ll be a hundred times better than your current life!” His tone made it sound like I was the one begging him to marry me. But two years ago, he had promised that I would be the future Mrs. Sterling. I sighed and stood up to leave, but Lucas grabbed my hand. The warmth of his touch made me feel momentarily disoriented. How long had it been since he last held my hand? Lucas’s face showed a hint of anger. “Aria, I’ve never lost my temper with you before. Don’t push me.” After a pause, as if realizing he had spoken too harshly, he added, “Be a good person, Aria.” A good person? Does being good mean handing over my kidney without question? To a homewrecker? Not wanting to look at the two of them any longer, I shook off his hand and walked out of the room. “Forget it, Lucas. Let’s break up.” “Lucas, it’s okay. Maybe Miss Reed doesn’t like me and feels I’m interfering with your relationship…” I heard Sophia’s sobs and Lucas’s angry voice behind me: “Aria, don’t regret this!” Back in my rented apartment, I lay down on the bed. Two years ago, I had come to this city alone. My first job was at a company owned by the Sterling family. As a newcomer, I was often assigned difficult tasks, which meant frequent overtime. Lucas, as the newly appointed CEO, was also working late to familiarize himself with the business. That’s how we met. He said there was a light in my eyes that kept him going whenever he felt tired. Later, he confessed his feelings, and we started dating secretly. Since that day when I suggested breaking up with Lucas, he never came to find me. I thought he had given up, so I felt relieved. But I had underestimated his love for Sophia. I was sleeping in my own small bed, but when I woke up again, I found myself lying in a hospital bed in a private clinic. My phone had been taken away. Lucas placed a meal in front of me and said coldly, “Eat more and get some sleep these few days. If anything happens to your kidney, don’t blame me for being harsh!” After Lucas left, I slowly ate the food in the box. There’s no point in fighting against your own body. Besides, eating more would give me strength to escape. After finishing the meal, in the afternoon, I started to plan my escape route. I saw a map of the entire hospital in the corridor. The main entrance was definitely not an option; Lucas might have instructed the reception nurses. My only choice was the back door. As night fell, I slipped out of the ward and made my way to the back door. I couldn’t open it, but I could climb over the wall. Just as I was about to leave, I heard faint cries for help that caught my attention. Without much thought, my first instinct was to help. I ran towards the source of the sound without hesitation. What I saw was a man with his hands and feet bound, all ten fingers cut off. I stood there, momentarily stunned. This method of torture was all too familiar to me. Lost in thought, I didn’t notice the man’s terrified gaze behind me. The next moment, a gentle yet cold voice sounded behind me: “Peeking at someone else’s murder isn’t what good girls do, you know.” As he walked past me, the familiar face in the moonlight triggered my horrifying memories. I felt as if someone was choking me; I couldn’t speak. He walked up to the man and swiftly stabbed him. The man fell to the ground, no longer breathing. At the same time, I heard someone calling my name from a distance. “Aria! Aria!” “You’d better not let me catch you, or you’re done for!” Hearing Lucas’s voice at this moment made me want to laugh. How much did Lucas care about Sophia to come to the hospital himself so late at night to look for me? A flashlight beam shone over, and a security guard shouted, “Miss Reed is here!” The person behind me discreetly blocked the corpse, and then Lucas immediately ran over. His action of hiding the body was completely unnecessary. The night was dark, he was standing behind a tree, and it wasn’t easy to see. Plus, Lucas only had eyes for me at that moment and paid no attention to anyone else. He grabbed my hand without a word, the huge force making my wrist hurt. “Aria, you’re getting more and more disobedient. Is it so hard to donate a kidney? It’s not like I’m asking for your life!” he yelled at me. “Sophia only has six months to live. She’s so gentle and kind, how can you bear not to save her?” Saying this, he dragged me back to the ward. Before leaving, I looked back one last time. In the moonlight, the man stood there with a cold expression, his gloomy gaze fixed on Lucas. I couldn’t help but shudder. Back in the ward, taking advantage of the fact that we were alone, I frantically said to Lucas, “Let’s leave this place, it’s dangerous!” Lucas disgustedly pushed me away, and I hit the hospital bed. “Aria, I’m warning you, don’t try these useless tricks. Do you think I’d believe your nonsense?” “If you try to escape again, don’t blame me for breaking your legs!” I stared blankly at the man before me. Judging from his expression, he was serious. But just a month ago, he was holding my hand, planning how to celebrate our two-year anniversary. Why could a person change so dramatically in just one month? Just then, Sophia walked in gracefully, dressed in white. As soon as she saw me, her eyes turned red. “Miss Reed, it’s all my fault. If it weren’t for me, Lucas wouldn’t be angry with you. Does it hurt?” She came forward, her hand stroking my forehead, but out of Lucas’s sight, she pressed down hard. I cried out in pain and pushed her away at the same time. “Ah!” She screamed even louder than me. Lucas immediately bent down anxiously to help her up, then glared at me angrily. “Aria, I really misjudged you before. You’re too vicious! How could I have been with a woman like you!” With that, he picked up Sophia and carried her out of the ward. Before leaving, he looked back at me coldly. “Aria, if you behave and donate your kidney to Sophia, I’ll forgive you.” “Otherwise, you know what will happen.” Sophia’s health had been deteriorating recently, so she was also arranged to be hospitalized. After she was admitted, Mrs. Sterling, whom I had only met once, came to the hospital for the first time ever. Sophia’s bed was set up next to mine. Mrs. Sterling stroked Sophia’s hand, smiling brightly as she said, “Sophia, dear, get well soon and marry our Lucas.” Sophia’s face turned red with embarrassment. “Auntie, don’t say that. Miss Reed is still here.” Only then did Mrs. Sterling glance at me coldly, before turning back to Sophia with a complete change in attitude. “Only a smart and beautiful girl like you is worthy of our Lucas. Don’t worry, the Sterling family only recognizes you as our daughter-in-law. I won’t bother with any other riffraff.” I lowered my head silently. Since my phone had been taken away, I didn’t even have anything to distract myself with. So the Sterling family wasn’t cold to everyone, it was just because I wasn’t their chosen one. “Mom, what are you saying?” The door to the ward opened, and a voice sounded in front of me. “The important thing now is to cure Sophia. I won’t be with such a vicious woman anyway.” As he spoke, I felt a gaze fall on me. I looked up. Two men were standing in front of me. One was Lucas, and the other… I looked over, but after meeting his eyes, my pupils contracted, and my body began to tremble uncontrollably. “I want to leave. I want to leave right now!” I pulled back the covers, intending to leave, but Lucas, thinking I didn’t want to donate my kidney to Sophia, forcefully pushed me back onto the bed. Because of Sophia’s worsening condition, Lucas had been quite anxious these past few days. “Alright, doctor, do an examination. If there’s no problem, arrange the surgery as soon as possible,” Lucas said to the man beside him. The man’s eyes swept over me with an ambiguous smile, and after finishing my examination, he went outside to talk with Lucas. Mrs. Sterling also left, reminding Sophia to call her after the surgery so she could come take care of her. With no one else around, Sophia dropped her hypocritical facade and walked to my bedside. Her finger traced along my waist as she smiled, “This kidney will soon belong to me.” I looked at her and coldly uttered two words: “Homewrecker.” Sophia snorted lightly. “In relationships, the one who isn’t loved is the third wheel. Blame yourself for being a toad lusting after swan meat, inserting yourself between Lucas and me.” I looked at her seriously and said, “It’s not too late to leave now, otherwise you’ll face retribution.” “Retribution? I’ve never believed in such things. But I should kindly remind you, you only have less than a day left to live,” Sophia smiled mockingly, looking at me like a victor. “I’ve bribed Dr. Ethan Reed who will perform your surgery. You’ll die on the operating table.” “And both your kidneys will be mine. Lucas will be mine too.” I turned my head indifferently. Sophia didn’t know. I couldn’t possibly die on the operating table. Because the person performing the surgery was my own brother. After Sophia finished talking to me, she went out to find Lucas. There were many security guards outside, so I had no chance of escaping. The next moment, the door was pushed open, and a gentle-looking man walked in. But having grown up with Ethan, I knew very well that his gentleness was just a facade, and he was actually a serial killer.

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Patrick Monroe took me to a party hosted by a beautiful lady named Caroline Bishop. While eating a piece of cake, I bit into a cherry hidden in the filling and immediately spit it out. I had once nearly died from breaking out in hives after eating cherries, so even at my young age, I knew that taste too well. Caroline looked disappointed and said, “Just like finding a coin in a New Year’s pastry for good luck, I hid a cherry in the mini cake as a special treat. I didn’t think Charlie would be so ungrateful.” Before I could explain, Dad shoved me outside into the yard as punishment. Mom always told me that with the temperature over 100 degrees, I should stay indoors and not run around. So this is what hot weather feels like. My skin felt itchy, and it was getting hard to breathe. I wanted to find Dad, but no matter how much I knocked, he wouldn’t open the door. Through the glass patio doors, I saw him glance coldly at me before looking away, refusing to let me back inside. When Mom found me using the GPS on her smartwatch, I was lying on the ground, my skin covered in red, itchy hives. Dad was nearby, still muttering, “Your son is just spoiled by you! No manners at all, spitting food on the table when there’s a trash can right there. Can’t even accept a simple gesture. He’s just like you…” Mom, furious, slapped Dad and then scooped me up and ran to the hospital. I hovered above, watching everything unfold quietly. I hated Dad. He never cared about Mom or me. Yes, I was dead. So this is what death feels like. Was old Mr. Thompson next door floating like this when he passed last year? I didn’t see him then, so could it be that Mom and Dad can’t see me now? But I could see them. I watched Mom holding me, crying desperately as she waited for an ambulance. Then she pleaded with the doctor to save me. The doctor stared at a screen and sighed. Three flat lines, perfectly still. Mom rushed around, doing everything by herself, as I watched “me” being wheeled into a small chamber. Later, a man handed Mom a small urn. She sat on the curb, clutching that urn and staring blankly at the traffic until night fell and she finally went home. In bed, she would sob into her pillow or stare at the ceiling in silence. I lay beside her, trying to pat her like she used to do when she put me to bed. But I could only watch as my hand passed right through her. I screamed, startled, but Mom didn’t react. She lay there, unmoving, so I got up and walked to the half-finished building blocks we’d been playing with. I tried to finish building it, but my hand went right through the pieces. I tried turning on the TV to watch cartoons, but that didn’t work either. So I went back to the bed to lie next to Mom. At least being there in silence wasn’t so bad. But wasn’t Mom hungry? She didn’t get up to eat. I missed Mom’s honey-glazed chicken wings! But I was dead, which meant I’d never have them again. I counted to the third day, and Mom finally got up. She looked at her phone. No messages. I was dead, and despite Mom’s sadness, Dad hadn’t called even once. Do other dads act like this too? I watched as Mom took a stack of papers from her nightstand. I recognized the big words at the top: Divorce Agreement. That document had been in her nightstand for as long as I could remember. She’d often glance at it, then look at me, and put it back. Finally, Dad came home. He stormed into the living room and began yelling, “Your son is so rude! Caroline put so much thought into hiding that cherry in the cake—it was a sign of good luck—and he just spit it out! Then he learned to complain to you when I made him stand outside!” “And you! That was Caroline’s house! She asked why you were there, and you didn’t even answer before barging in and pushing her!” “Can’t you act civil? Did you know Caroline fell and cut her hand because of you?” Mom listened, expressionless, maybe because his words couldn’t hurt her anymore. Ever since Caroline had reappeared in our lives, Dad had grown increasingly impatient with Mom, saying things that hurt her deeply. I wanted to tell him, “I’m already dead. Isn’t that enough of an apology to Caroline? Can you stop blaming Mom now?”

When Mom didn’t respond, Dad’s voice rose again, “I’m talking to you! Are you deaf?” “Do you know how embarrassed I was when you slapped me in front of everyone?” “Your son’s awful behavior comes straight from you! He’s nothing like Caroline’s daughter!” He got up and started towards my room. “I’ll raise him myself from now on. I won’t let you turn him into a spoiled brat!” Mom stepped in front of him, smirking sarcastically. “You remember Charlie is your son? You always call him ‘my son, my son,’ and I thought he was just mine. Fine then, let’s get a divorce.” Dad scoffed at the papers in front of him. “You’ve got to be kidding. This marriage was something you begged for. Now you want to end it just like that?” Mom sighed, exhaustion written all over her face. “Yes. You don’t love me or Charlie. Let’s stop torturing each other. Sign it, and you can be with your ‘one true love.’ What’s stopping you?” Dad shoved her hand away, making her stumble. “You’re crazy! You barged into her home, and Caroline was kind enough not to press charges. Otherwise, that would’ve been breaking and entering! Your son learned from you—no manners at all. I made him stand outside, and he acts like he’s dying.” “And you indulge him, then come at me with this divorce nonsense. What’s in your head?” Mom’s voice shook with rage. “What’s in mine? What’s in yours? Did you know Charlie is allergic to cherries?” “The first time he ate one, he broke out in hives and couldn’t breathe. There was a cherry in that cake—why wouldn’t he spit it out?” “I had to save my son—why wouldn’t I burst in? If Caroline hadn’t stopped me… maybe Charlie…” Tears started streaming down Mom’s face again, and I wanted to hug her, to comfort her like she always did for me. Dad just scoffed, even chuckling dryly. “Oh, please. A cherry? That’s nothing. An allergy? Next, you’ll tell me he’s allergic to air.” “How would I not know if that happened before? You’re always using him as a way to control me. You think you wouldn’t have told me if that had happened? You’ve got quite an imagination.” “Other kids aren’t allergic. Why is our son the fragile one? Today, I’m going to fix this.” “All he does is cry and whine. Anyone would think he was dead already!” With that, Dad went to the kitchen, grabbed the cherries he had brought home a few days ago, and headed for my room. Mom watched him, shaking her head, and sat back down on the couch, silent. Caroline loved cherries. Every time Dad came back from her place, he brought a bag of them “for us to share.” They would sit until they rotted, and Mom would throw them out. If Dad caught her, he would scold us for wasting a thoughtful gift. Every time, Mom reminded him that I was allergic, but he never believed it. Once, when Mom wasn’t home, Dad had ordered a cherry smoothie and tried to force me to drink it. He muttered, “Your mother keeps saying you’re allergic to cherries. I don’t buy it. She’s just refusing Caroline’s goodwill.” In desperation, I bit him, and he let me go, shoving me to the floor and kicking me a few times before leaving. Cherry juice was everywhere—on the floor, on my clothes.

I didn’t want Mom to worry, so I mimicked what I’d seen her do and put my clothes in the washer, then mopped up the mess. When she came back and saw I’d changed, she asked why. I blushed and lied, saying I’d had an accident. She laughed at me for days over that. Dad, of course, wouldn’t find me in my room now, because “I” was already in a little urn. He glared at Mom. “Helen, you’re crafty, aren’t you? Hiding the kid before bringing up divorce.” “You have no money, no job, no background, and you know you wouldn’t win custody. You’re trying to hold on to him to keep me close, huh? Want money, is that it? How sly can you get?” “Fine, we can divorce, and I might even give you a little something. But Charlie stays with me.” Mom listened to his cruel words without saying a word. Then she stood up, grabbed her packed bags and my urn, and walked out without looking back. Dad shouted after her, “Go! Get as far away as you can! If it weren’t for my parents, I’d never have married you. Don’t come crawling back!” Even though I knew Dad couldn’t hear me, I shouted at him, “I don’t want to go with you. I want Mom! You’re a bad dad!” I then ran to catch up with Mom, leaving that hateful place behind. Mom used to tell me stories before bed, including how she and Dad met. She probably thought I was too young to understand, but I remembered every detail clearly. Mom and Dad had known each other since childhood. Their families were close friends, and they had been engaged from a young age. Later, Mom’s family suffered financial ruin. Grandma and Grandpa, unable to bear the blow, passed away one after the other. Patrick’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Monroe, took in my mom, who was still in middle school, and insisted that the engagement be honored. At first, they were too young to grasp the concept of marriage, so they just went about their days eating, laughing, and playing together as close friends. But when they reached college, Dad fell for Caroline Bishop. Caroline, however, didn’t feel the same way. She was in love with her professor, a married man in his forties. She even followed him abroad. Dad wanted to follow her. Mr. and Mrs. Monroe were furious and confined him to the house, forcing him to marry Mom. Mom said she never really loved Dad. She had been cherished and protected by her parents and later by Patrick’s parents, never facing hardship—a flower in a greenhouse. If she didn’t marry him, she wouldn’t have known where to go or what to do. Besides, Mr. and Mrs. Monroe had raised her with the sole hope of her marrying Patrick. She couldn’t turn her back on that. Mom thought that, at the very least, their childhood bond would allow them to live as respectful partners. But Dad grew to resent her for it. He thought Mom had been after the family’s wealth and feared that if he married someone else, she would no longer benefit from the title of fiancée or Mrs. Monroe. He was convinced she had tattled on him and begged Mr. and Mrs. Monroe to push the marriage. To him, she was the one who had stopped him from pursuing his love, separating him from his true happiness. From what I could remember, Dad hardly ever came home. Especially after Caroline reentered his life, every visit ended in a bitter argument. Mom and I moved into an apartment that Mr. and Mrs. Monroe had signed over to her before their deaths. Maybe they foresaw this day and wanted her to have a place of refuge. The small apartment was cozy. Mom placed “me” in a corner on a low cabinet. I heard her speaking to me, “Charlie, I’m sorry I couldn’t take better care of you these past few days. I’ve been so overwhelmed. I’ll find you a resting place soon, okay?” I nodded, but remembering she couldn’t see me, I felt a wave of sadness. Mom would never see me again. We’d never bake cookies, build towers with blocks, or share bedtime stories… I followed her as she searched for a cemetery. Mom picked a spot high up on a hill where we could see the amusement park in the distance, with its giant Ferris wheel turning slowly. Just as she was about to sign some papers handed over by a manager, her phone rang. It was the property manager at Maplewood Apartments, telling her someone had forced their way inside. Mom rushed to grab a cab back. Mark Sanders, the property manager, and James Turner, the security guard, were held back by a few large men. Inside, Dad’s voice roared, “How hard is it to search a few rooms? Where is he?” Mom hurried into the room. “What do you think you’re doing?” Patrick Monroe stood with his hands in his pockets, glaring at her. “Good, you’re here. Hand over Charlie. I’m taking him to apologize to Caroline.”

Mom stared at him in disbelief. “Patrick, all this because Charlie spit out a cherry he’s allergic to? You won’t let it go? He’s your son!” Dad waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t have a son like that. A kid who’d endanger someone’s life! When I find him, he’s getting the punishment of a lifetime!” I shouted, “I didn’t do anything wrong!” Even though I was young, I knew bad people hurt others, and I wasn’t a bad person! But Dad couldn’t hear me. Mom was so angry, she wanted to strike him. “What nonsense are you talking about? Charlie’s too young to hurt anyone!” Dad, as if struck by a sudden thought, pointed at her. “That’s right! You must have put him up to it. A kid like Charlie couldn’t get acid on his own. It had to be you who told him to throw it at Caroline!” Mom, furious, grabbed a decorative vase by the door. “Throw acid? When? Where? Do you have proof? If you dare accuse my son, I swear we’ll go down together!” “Yesterday morning. Caroline was at Riverside Mall when a kid fitting Charlie’s description splashed acid on her. The security footage caught the whole thing!” Dad pulled out his phone, opened a video, and tossed it to Mom. I stood on tiptoe to look with her. The footage matched Dad’s claims. But I had died days ago—how could it have been me? Dad saw Mom’s silence as confirmation that she recognized me in the video. He crossed his arms, speaking with a condescending tone. “It’s undeniable, right? Charlie is my son. I wouldn’t mistake him. Hand him over, and I’ll take him to apologize to Caroline. With my relationship with her, she’ll forgive him. That way, the Central Police Department can close the case quietly. If the police come, it’ll be a whole different story.” “It’s not me! That’s not me, bad Dad! My shirt had a tear on the pocket, and Mom patched it with a pink pig sticker. The kid in the video doesn’t have that.” I reached out to hit Dad, but my fist just passed through him, hitting nothing but air. Mom, however, smiled coldly, eyes full of mockery. “Fine. Let’s wait for the police.” Dad’s face darkened. “Helen, don’t push your luck.”

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I accidentally woke up in an alternate reality, replacing the female lead in a novel. Three years after marrying Iker Bennett, I had tried countless ways to return to my own world, but all in vain. Finally, I gave in and told Iker I wouldn’t leave anymore. He wept with joy, “I’ll never let you down in this life. I promise I’ll never make you regret staying by my side.” Until his childhood sweetheart returned from studying in France, and he welcomed her into our home, claiming he just wanted to give her a place to belong. In an era where even physical affairs were common, he couldn’t understand the concept of an emotional affair. But what he didn’t know was that on the very night he brought his childhood sweetheart home, I had finally discovered a way to return to my world. I am the heiress of the Collins Group. Everyone envies my good fortune, born into a wealthy family. But all I want is to go home, back to the world where I belong. Unfortunately, after a “fall” into a lake, the male lead insisted on playing the hero and saving me. He fell in love at first sight and proposed the very next day. When I first married him, I still didn’t give up looking for a way to return. Jumping into wells, leaping into lakes, running into walls… I tried it all. But he would tirelessly save me every single time. For three years, he willingly cooked for me and took care of the household chores. The last time I tried to jump into a lake, he pulled me out, panting. With tears in his eyes and a mix of grief and joy at nearly losing me, he said: “Ulla, life is precious. Please, give me a chance, won’t you?” Looking into Iker’s sincere eyes, I finally softened and stopped trying to end my life. Two years after I fell in love with Iker, his childhood sweetheart Wren Morgan graduated from her studies in France and was returning home. And my husband, in front of everyone, went to pick her up at the airport and brought her back to our home. When he brought Wren home without consulting me first, he met my confused gaze. “Wren and I have known each other since childhood. Her family is in a difficult situation, and there’s no one else to take her in, so I brought her back.” That’s when I learned that Iker had such a childhood sweetheart. “No one to take her in, so you have to take her in?” He looked guilty as he explained. Wren was the daughter of the Bennett family’s housekeeper. Now, the housekeeper had passed away from overwork, and Wren’s mother had died giving birth to her, leaving no one to take care of her. Iker sighed, “Ulla, she’s in a really pitiful situation. She said she couldn’t go on living. I brought her home to give her some support for the rest of her life. I absolutely have no other intentions. You can understand that, right?” I glanced at the smug-looking Wren. If Iker hadn’t brought her into our home, she could have still enjoyed the compensation from the Bennett family for the rest of her life. She would have been set for life. Why did she need to depend on a man to survive? Iker seemed to keep his word. He appeared to have no other intentions, just letting her live in our home. Everything seemed unchanged. Until a month later, when the Bennett family hosted a dinner party, inviting many friends and relatives, and even hiring some singers for entertainment. After a group of singers finished performing some love songs on stage, Iker was visibly moved, his eyes brimming with tears. Wren was crying uncontrollably. “This was mine and Iker’s favorite song. If only…” She covered her face and wept, then glanced at me with a pout before hurriedly saying: “Iker and I are like siblings. Please don’t misunderstand.” Her timid expression made it seem like she was afraid of me. The guests at the party whispered among themselves, saying I wasn’t being generous enough. I felt like I had pins and needles in my back, slightly clenching my sleeve. That day’s party ended with me claiming to feel unwell and leaving the table indifferently. Later that evening, the housekeeper came to tell me in a low voice that the song had actually been arranged by Wren. I suddenly realized that there was probably more between them than just childhood friends. The next morning, Wren knelt outside my door to apologize. I sent someone to send her back, but she stubbornly refused to leave. “I’ve angered you, and that’s my fault. But I really had no intention of seducing Iker!” I looked down at her, thinking how ridiculous this housekeeper’s daughter was. Before I could say anything, she had already accused herself of seduction. As we were at an impasse, I caught sight of a figure hurrying over. Iker rushed over, frowning, “What’s going on here?” Wren lowered her head pitifully, “Ulla is upset that I chose that song on my own. She has every right to be angry with me.” The fragile girl bowed her head, making me look even more vicious and jealous in comparison. Iker anxiously helped her up, then turned to me and spoke in a low voice. “Ulla, Wren is the housekeeper’s daughter after all. The housekeeper served our family faithfully. You should give her the respect she deserves. Don’t make things difficult for her.” I looked at this poor act of manipulation, my expression cold. “So you’re feeling sorry for her? Don’t you think she’s just putting on an act, deliberately trying to drive a wedge between us?” From the first day this woman entered our home, I could see the ambition and calculation in her eyes. But Iker looked conflicted as he gazed at both of us, ultimately taking her side. “Wren has such a good temperament, how could she deliberately provoke you?” Saying she doesn’t want anything, yet expecting others to show her favoritism, and acting as if she’s suffered a great injustice. So this is what she considers a good temperament. I walked past Wren and came to Iker’s side, calmly saying: “Iker Bennett, let’s have a proper talk.” I usually called him by his first name in private, rarely addressing him so formally with his full name. Iker was stunned; he understood that I was truly angry this time. … After I left the party yesterday, I asked Mrs. Anderson, who had always been friendly with me, for information. That’s when I learned that they had been in a relationship very early on. Back then, Iker was the young master with a noble air, and she was a well-known academic achiever. The two grew up together in the Bennett household, childhood sweethearts without a care in the world. If it weren’t for her humble origins, the position of Mrs. Bennett would have been Wren’s. My heart grew cold. “What happened then?” Mrs. Anderson sighed, “Then you know what happened. Their relationship was discovered by their parents, and Wren was forcibly sent to study in France by her father. She cried and made a scene at home, saying she wanted to die with Iker.” “But in the end, she was still forced to go to France.” The day Wren left, Iker drove her to the airport. Wren cried her eyes out at the airport. It was quite the tragic love story. I suppressed the pain in my heart and asked, “If that’s the case, why did neither Iker nor you ever mention this to me?” Mrs. Anderson said, “After that, Iker gradually got over his sadness and proposed to you. I saw that you two were happy together, so who would bring this up? ” “If you ask me, this is all ancient history. Why bother with it? I can see that since he married you, he has truly taken you to heart.” Now, I looked into Iker’s eyes and asked him about all of this, one by one. I could accept his past feelings, but I couldn’t accept deception. I asked softly, “Iker, did you ever truly trust me?” Iker was stunned for a moment, then lowered his head, “Ulla, Wren and I did have a past, but that’s all over now. Now, I’ve married you, and I’ll only be good to you alone.” “Then why didn’t you tell me?” He was silent for a while before finally admitting. “Everyone knows that the Collins heiress has a proud personality. I was afraid you’d get angry and refuse to marry me.” The hope in my heart finally faded away. I quietly closed my eyes. It’s not easy to divorce in high society, but if both parties agree, it’s not impossible. When I brought up this idea, Iker’s eyes filled with shock. Even though he hadn’t betrayed me, I was still being unreasonable, nitpicking over every little thing. “That was just youthful foolishness, how could it count?” Iker panicked. “Since marrying you, I’ve been nothing but careful in taking care of you. Wren is just a thing of the past, why are you so concerned about it?” He didn’t understand the significance of what people call an emotional affair in this era where even physical affairs are common. Before he was with me, I could ignore his past feelings. But when he started to have feelings for Wren again, and chose to believe her over me, he was no longer the man I loved. During this time, he often went to the backyard to check on Wren, and occasionally, because of her nightmares, he would quietly go to see her in the middle of the night, returning at dawn. I’m not deaf or blind. On those nights when he went to accompany Wren, I lay awake all night. To the point where when Wren walked past me, she could no longer hold back her true colors. She said to me lightly: “Iker and I are childhood sweethearts. He’s only holding back because of you. He hasn’t slept with me yet, but it won’t be long now.” “You don’t really think that you, the new love, can replace my position in his heart, do you?” I couldn’t help but laugh as I listened. “So Miss Morgan likes to steal other people’s husbands.” Wren’s smile froze, but she couldn’t capture any sense of triumph on my face. Because I was no longer her competitor. In my heart, the man I once loved was already dead. “Ever since Wren cried at the family dinner, word has spread in our social circle that I’m a vicious and jealous person,” I said. I looked steadily at Iker. “To avoid affecting your family’s reputation, let’s get a divorce.” Seeing my determination, his handsome face turned red and white. “Why should we fear rumors? I won’t agree to a divorce. You are my only wife, and that will never change!” Iker was angry as I had predicted, and stormed off. I sighed and began to research ways to return to my world again. In those days, I continued to experiment with hanging myself, jumping into lakes, and divination. Because on the day I transmigrated here, there was a rare star alignment in the sky. I studied astrology diligently and finally began to see some results. At first, when Iker discovered me trying to hang myself, he would panic like before and patiently try to talk me out of it. But after rushing home several times, he gradually became impatient with me, thinking I was just trying to get his attention. I didn’t understand. He was the one who had people monitoring my every move, so why did it become me trying to attract his attention? Every time he saw the backyard filled with my star charts and ropes, he felt extremely helpless. Iker rubbed his brow, his tone tinged with fatigue. “Ulla Collins, I’m busy with work. Can you stop this nonsense?” Even Wren pretended to advise me: “Yes, Ulla doesn’t take care of herself. Every time it’s just an empty threat, it only adds to Iker’s worries.” By now, Wren’s graceful and elegant demeanor of a young lady from a good family had completely disappeared. I smiled, “Soon, I’ll never trouble you again.” He didn’t understand the implication of my words, just slightly relaxed his brow. I watched them standing side by side by the pond, like a perfect couple. He and Wren had actually already had sex. One day when the Bennett family was entertaining guests, I claimed to be tired and retired to rest, leaving him to drink with the guests. Wren asked the housekeeper to come over saying she had chest pains, so Iker went to check on her. That night, he never came out again. He ended up sleeping in Wren’s room. To cover it up, the music in the front hall was turned up very loud. He always thought I didn’t know. But I had been the lady of the house for many years, and I had eyes and ears everywhere. Now, Iker asked me why I was doing these strange things. I lied and said I was divining, praying for his good fortune. He softened his voice, “If my wife likes divination, I’ll find some rare books for you.” “Just don’t harm yourself anymore.” Iker took my hand tenderly, but I pulled away as if electrocuted, my smile not reaching my eyes. “Thank you for your concern.” I don’t know when we started being so polite to each other. Those intimate moments, those nights of passion, seemed to have dissipated into the spring night long ago. Only Iker and I remained in the room. He personally brought a bowl of thick medicine, gently stirring it. “The doctor said this medicine is best for calming the mind… I added honey to it, it’s not bitter anymore.” But there are many kinds of bitterness in this world that can’t be neutralized with sweetness. I bit my lower lip. “You still don’t believe me. You think I’ve lost my mind, don’t you?” “Be a good girl and drink your medicine. When you’re better, we’ll be like we were before.” He brought the cooled medicine to my lips, his voice coaxing. It seemed that if I just drank this medicine, he could deceive himself and get back the wife who used to be gentle and caring towards him. “Do you think we can go back to how we were before?” I asked. I raised my hand and knocked over the spoonful of medicine he was holding. The reddish-brown medicine spilled onto his sky-blue shirt, instantly staining it. I had never seen this shirt before, probably bought for him by Wren. Iker suppressed his anger, his eyelashes trembling slightly as he clenched his fists. He was the noble young master of the Bennett family, no one had ever dared to be so disrespectful to him. “Ulla, don’t push me. I’ve already compromised too much.” The next moment, he actually grabbed my chin with red eyes and poured the remaining hot medicine into my mouth. I coughed, using my remaining strength to coldly stare at him. “Iker Bennett… stop torturing each other. It’s useless.” He didn’t know that over the years, I had secretly spent a fortune seeking out psychics all over the world, and had actually found a way to return. This Bennett house was never a cage that could trap me.

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When Mrs. Elaine Sterling handed me a check for a million dollars to leave Maxwell Sterling, I didn’t hesitate. I had spent five years with him, giving up the best years of my life without any title, any recognition. That million felt like little compensation. Word of this reached Max quickly. Later, I heard he even skipped an important meeting to rush over to see me. Content When Max arrived at The Beacon Apartments he’d bought for me, I was packing my things. “What’s this supposed to mean?” he demanded, his face as dark as a storm cloud. Knowing him as well as I did after so many years, I could tell he was furious. “Mr. Sterling, your mother’s paying me a million to leave you. What’s so hard to understand?” I replied, giving him my best smile, trying not to appear too beaten down. The words only made him angrier. He spoke through clenched teeth, “Go if you want, but don’t regret it later.” Then he slammed the door on his way out. Over the years, Max had treated me well—at least in material ways. He had kept me like a canary in a gilded cage, surrounded by designer bags and luxury watches, never denying me anything I wanted. And had I stayed, I knew that million wouldn’t be the last he’d ever give me. But I’d grown tired. I wouldn’t have given in to this if I hadn’t heard that Genevieve Harrison was back from her studies abroad. Max’s fiancée—his mother’s ideal match for him. The woman I would never be. It took less than thirty minutes to finish packing. I had nowhere to go, so I turned to my best friend, Maya Lane. Unfortunately, her boyfriend was there, and I found myself the third wheel. Maya apologized with a sympathetic look—after all, I hadn’t called in advance—so I booked a room at The St. Laurent Hotel. It was the same hotel Max and I used to stay at when he’d had a bit too much to drink and needed a place to crash nearby. He never let himself lose control around others, but when he did, his secretary, Mr. Charles Blake, would always call me. When I checked in, the front desk clerk recognized me. She smiled, “Mr. Sterling isn’t with you tonight?” I shook my head, keeping my tone casual. “Mr. Sterling and I are no longer involved.” She looked taken aback. My relationship with Max wasn’t a secret among the social elite—everyone knew Max was a sought-after bachelor, and I was just the woman he kept on the side. With my check-in complete, I drew a hot bath, filling it with rose petals, enjoying their soft fragrance. Max was allergic to pollen, so I’d never taken a rose-petal bath around him. Yet, as I lay there in the steaming water, I felt like something was missing. I stayed at the hotel for three days until Maya came looking for me. She knew about my breakup with Max and wanted to take me on a trip to clear my head. But the day before we were supposed to leave, she got called into work for an emergency. Our girls’ trip quickly became a solo trip. So, I headed alone to Savannah, Georgia.

The moment I boarded the plane, Max called me. The phone rang for a while, and just as a flight attendant was reminding me to turn off my phone, a text came through: “I’ll say this once—if you’re done with your tantrum, come back.” I stared at the short message, and memories from four years ago surfaced. It was the first time I’d thrown a tantrum at him, shortly after I’d learned about Genevieve. I’d downed a lot of wine and stumbled back to him in a half-drunken haze, confronting him in his study, draped in a nightgown, asking if his work or I was more important. He’d been furious, taking off his glasses to glare at me. “Cassidy,” he’d said icily, “I’m working. Get out.” Ignoring him, I’d refused to leave until he’d thrown me, coat and all, out of his place. Standing in the deserted estate neighborhood, shivering in the cold, I’d felt a pang of regret but stayed stubbornly silent. Before long, Max showed up, his expression unreadable as he looked down at me, asking, “Had enough?” I’d stubbornly bitten my frozen lips, just as a sneeze escaped, making him smirk, his eyes softening slightly. He’d crouched down to offer a hand, but I’d refused it, still too proud to accept his help. His voice had turned harsh, “I’ll say it once—if you’re done, come back.” True to his word, he’d walked off without looking back. I’d shouted after him, “Give me my bag!” “Cassidy, I bought that bag for you. If you don’t plan to come back, you won’t be taking it.” That moment was a wake-up call. The designer bags, the LV, the Hermès—everything was from him. And from that moment on, I knew what I was to him. I’d spent five quiet years by his side after that. But now, sitting on the plane, I deleted his message without another glance. After two hours in the air, I landed at Savannah’s airport. And in a stroke of bad luck, my bag went missing almost as soon as I’d arrived. At the Savannah City Police Station, the local cops were practically eyeing my designer outfit, silently asking who else would someone want to rob? Unable to speak the successfully, penniless, without any identification, I had no way to prove who I was. An officer handed me a phone and told me to call someone who could help. My parents had died in an accident when I was young, and my grandmother had raised me until she passed away before she could enjoy her retirement. Max had come into my life soon after she’d gone—a burst of light in my shadowed world. Out of options, I called Max, dialing again and again, the unanswered ringing only reminding me that his light was no longer a part of my life. By late afternoon, a kind young man approached and offered to help. His name was Derek Chandler, a fellow American who happened to be at the station. Seeing me alone and distressed, he helped me communicate with the police. Once I left the station, I changed my phone number and cut all ties with Max. But sometimes, I’d still come across news of him. Photos of Max and Genevieve shopping, him smiling down at her, looking the way I’d once dreamed he’d look at me. Their elegant appearances at ribbon-cutting events, announcements of their upcoming “wedding of the century.” I remained in Savannah, where Derek and I became good friends. With his help, I found work at Global Exports Inc., a company involved in a partnership that allowed me to rebuild my career. After being Max’s “canary” for five years, I’d lost all sense of independence, but slowly, with Derek’s support, I found my way again. We kept each other company, two lonely souls leaning on one another. Yet no one had warned us that bringing together two people’s solitude didn’t make things warmer. Standing on a balcony one evening, looking over the Savannah skyline, I asked him, “Why do you stay here?” He looked back, sadness in his eyes. It was the night of the 4th of July Fireworks Festival, and the flickering lights cast shadows across his face as he told me about his past. He’d come to Savannah to keep a promise to his late fiancée, who’d always wanted to see this festival. “They say, if you make a wish to the fireworks, it’ll come true,” he told me. I knew he was thinking of her as he said it. She hadn’t made it; she’d died in his arms. Closing my eyes, I closed my hands and made a silent wish to forget Max. Time passed, and work kept me busy. But sometimes, I still had to deal with harassment from a lecherous boss who would use work as an excuse to touch me or make suggestive jokes. Derek put a stop to it, coming to the office one day and pretending to be my boyfriend. From then on, the boss left me alone, and I was free of other unwanted attention. After nearly two years in Savannah, I received an assignment to return to New York for a project. Packing up, I flew back with some of my international colleagues. As soon as we landed, a driver from the company met us at JFK, guiding us to The St. Laurent Hotel. Standing in the doorway, I felt memories flood over me, stirring emotions I’d long buried. But when I saw that the receptionist had changed, I felt my shoulders relax, tightening my grip on my suitcase as I heard, “Hello, Mr. Sterling. Hello, Ms. Harrison…”

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