Category: English

Five years into my marriage, my wife Evelyn Shaw’s “old friend,” Dylan Hart, posted a photo of a deed on Instagram. The caption read, “Huge thanks to my CEO Sis for signing this house over to me.” I looked at the address on the deed, stunned; it was our home. I commented with a single question mark, “?” Moments later, Evelyn called, snapping at me, “He’s a single dad. It’s just to help his daughter get into school. It doesn’t affect where we live.” Her tone was all reproach. “Can’t you show a little compassion?” From the other end, I could even hear Dylan’s mumbled complaints. A half hour later, Dylan posted again, tagging me to make sure I’d see it. This time, it was a brand-new, fully paid-for Mercedes-Benz. The caption: “As the saying goes, where a woman’s money goes, so does her love.” I knew it was Evelyn’s gift to pacify him. But this time, I’d made up my mind—I was going to file for divorce. …… When Evelyn got home, I swallowed my daily dose of immunotherapy meds, washing it down with a piece of birthday cake. This was the medication I needed after surgery for stomach cancer. I’d bought the cake in advance, hoping to surprise her and share the news about my surgery while she’d been away on business. I’d been waiting since morning, but she wasn’t picking up, not even responding to my messages. It was only when I commented on Dylan’s post about the deed that she immediately called back—angry and accusatory. Before I could even get a word in, she’d hung up and blocked me. My wound reopened from the stress. She barely glanced at the cake or the medication on the table, wrinkling her nose. “Whose birthday is it? Yours?” In silence, I put the meds away and tossed the cake in the trash. “Not mine—it’s for a friend.” A flicker of relief crossed her face. “Good, I thought it was the 28th. Today’s only the 8th.” Five years married, and she got my birthday wrong every single year. The funny thing? She remembered someone else’s perfectly. She sat down beside me and handed me a toy car. “Dylan asked me to give this to you. He was pretty shaken by your passive-aggressive attitude. You should apologize.” The little car was a Mercedes-Benz keychain, probably one of the trinkets they throw in when you buy the car—smudged with oil, no less. “No thanks,” I said flatly. Evelyn’s expression turned sour. “What’s with the attitude? He even offered you a peace gesture. Can’t you show a bit of grace and apologize?” When I didn’t respond, Evelyn grabbed my arm, pulling me up with such force that my injured leg struck the coffee table. It was the same leg that had been burned last week by scalding hot porridge she’d accidentally spilled when texting Dylan. Seeing blood seep from the wound again, she looked worried. “Let me take you to the hospital.” I didn’t refuse. “Fine.” As soon as we were in the car, her Bluetooth connected, and Dylan’s voice filled the silence, playful and warm. “Welcome back, CEO Sis! Keep making money for me to spend, okay?” Evelyn’s face tightened. “It’s just something he left in my car last time. I’ll get rid of it.” “Don’t bother,” I muttered. Silence filled the car, and she looked at me, surprised. “You’re not angry?” I pressed my lips together. Dylan used to matter to me. But now? I could hardly even care about Evelyn, much less her pet. “Just drive,” I said quietly. “It’s late.” The hospital was only a half-mile away, just a straight drive and a U-turn. But Evelyn’s phone rang, and I heard Dylan on the line, asking her to take him for a ride in the new Mercedes. “Something’s come up with Dylan,” she said, pulling over. “You can just walk the last fifty yards, right?” She was practically itching to go. “I can’t walk,” I said, holding her gaze. Her expression turned frosty. “Are you serious? You’re a grown man, not an invalid!” She opened the door and practically pushed me out, saying to call her once I’d taken care of my bandages. Her tires splashed filthy water over my leg as she sped off. Rain started to fall, soaking through my bandages. I took a few steps before pain shot through my abdomen, and I collapsed on the crosswalk, unable to move. I barely avoided getting hit, thanks to the hospital’s security guard, who rushed over and helped me in. Back home, barely settled, Evelyn stormed in, furious. “I told you to call me once you’d changed the bandages! I waited at the hospital for an hour, but your phone was off!” I stared at her.

I’d spent two hours on an IV and eventually had to call a cab when I couldn’t take the pain any longer. My phone had only just died, but clearly, she’d never been at the hospital. Once, she’d cared so much. When had she turned so cold? “You blocked me, Evelyn,” I said. “I couldn’t call you even if I’d wanted to.” Her face softened slightly, and she pulled out a takeout container. “I figured you’d be hungry. Brought you some porridge.” I looked at the bowl. It was plain, just a sprinkle of scallions—no meat, no eggs, as if it were someone’s leftovers. An hour ago, Dylan’s Instagram Story had shown Evelyn cooking in the kitchen. “Who says good women don’t exist? She not only took me for a midnight ride in her new Mercedes, but when I got hungry, she whipped me up some porridge, too.” I stirred the bowl, feeling a wave of nausea. “I don’t want it.” Evelyn’s expression turned dark. “What’s wrong with you? I brought this for you, and you’re throwing a tantrum?” “So what if I signed the house over to Dylan? You still get to live here. All he did was say thank you. And you embarrassed us both by commenting. Have I even gotten mad about that?” With fresh stitches in my stomach and an injured leg, I barely had the strength to speak. “I was just shocked it was our address on his post…” But Evelyn cut me off. “Shocked? Dylan’s right—you’re just that kind of person. Always quick to anger, no empathy, no tolerance. Anytime I speak to a man, you get all paranoid. You’re the one with issues!” In the past, I would’ve tried to reason with her. But this time, I just stared, letting her rant until she was breathless. When she was done, I said, “You finished? Mind turning off the light?” She shot me a cold glare before slamming the door. After she left, I slept soundly for the first time in a long time. The next day, I contacted a friend for a divorce lawyer. She’d been gone for three days since that argument, but when I saw a new photo Nina posted from their beach trip, there was Evelyn in matching clothes with Dylan, beaming by his side. I liked the photo without a second thought. Evelyn called back immediately. “I’ll pick you up later. My friends are meeting us at the beach.” She paused, adding, “I wasn’t planning on inviting you. Consider it a reward for good behavior.” “Sure,” I replied, hiding the ongoing divorce process. When Evelyn arrived, it surprised me that Dylan wasn’t in the car, too. At the beach, Nina greeted me with an apology. “I planned that meet-up last time—I should’ve given you a heads up. I’ll make up for it later.” I forced a smile. “Been swamped with work.” “Word is, you’re planning to open a branch in Aspen Ridge. Congratulations!” Nina said, laying it on thick. I nodded. “It’s still in the works. Not sure if it’ll pan out.” Evelyn walked over, face taut. “You’re moving to Aspen Ridge? Since when? Did I say you could go?” I met her furious gaze, unflinching. She continued to rant while Nina tried to smooth things over, ushering us toward the cookout. As we sat by the grill, Evelyn whispered, almost nervous, “Dylan and I agreed. After his daughter finishes elementary school, he’ll sign the house back over. Don’t get so worked up—it’s my property. I didn’t even have to explain.” “Alright,” I said, nodding calmly. As I replied, I noticed a familiar figure approaching. A young woman with them shouted, “Dylan! Evelyn’s over here!” Everyone froze.

Nina kicked the girl, cursing her for being so tactless. I stood and excused myself, heading toward the restroom to gather my composure. When I returned, they were playing games by the fire. Dylan and Evelyn sat close, laughing. I found a spot farther away, watching quietly. “Alright, truth or dare!” Nina suggested, trying to revive the mood. Evelyn won the first round, and Dylan chose “truth.” “What’s made you happiest recently?” Evelyn asked, giving him a pass. Dylan smiled, staring meaningfully at her. “I met an incredible woman who gave me a house and a car. She even took me on a midnight ride in her new Mercedes.” He glanced at me with a triumphant smirk. Everyone knew the house and car were Evelyn’s doing, but they’d kept quiet out of politeness. But here, laid bare, the tension was thick. Nina cleared her throat. “Alright, round two! Let’s see what we’ve got next.” This time, Dylan chose me. “Truth,” I said. Dylan stepped up with a grin. “How about a dare, Adrian?” I shook my head. “Truth.” He looked put out, his gaze drifting to Evelyn. “Didn’t Evelyn say you’re an amazing swimmer? Why not show us?” I refused, “I’m not feeling well.” Dylan glanced at Evelyn with a hurt look, and she pressed, “It’s your specialty! Why not just swim a lap? It won’t kill you.” Ignoring my protests, they pulled me to the water’s edge, taunting me with every step. My abdomen throbbed from recent surgery, but they kept pushing. Finally, Evelyn shoved me into the freezing water. I coughed as salt stung my throat and lungs, waves crashing over my head. I barely surfaced, gasping for air. As I struggled to shore, Evelyn smiled at Dylan, whispering assurances. Then, she turned to me with a sneer. “Apologize to Dylan and take a drink—or else.” I looked at her, heart pounding with exhaustion and anger. “Evelyn, I’ve already contacted my lawyer. We’re getting divorced.” She stared at me, eyes wide with shock. I stumbled back to the road. Before I could make it across, everything went black. I heard someone yell, “He’s bleeding—call an ambulance!”

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My roommate brought back a strange mud idol when the semester started. Since then, she’s gotten prettier, and her luck seems to be on a winning streak. The rest of our dormmates have been asking her for advice. But one night… I saw them gathered around, their bellies swollen, howling in horror. Content “Lily, you’re looking more beautiful by the day!” The roommates, faces filled with envy and wonder, gathered around Lilith “Lily” Monroe. Lily held a powder puff, checking herself in the mirror, a smug look on her face as she cast a quick glance my way, letting out a disdainful snort. “Oh, you guys… Don’t say that; it’ll make Minnie feel so bad…” Lily suddenly whipped her eyebrow pencil at Minnie Lake. “Did you finish my homework, ugly?” Jenna Reed, one of our roommates, quickly picked up the mud idol sitting on Lily’s desk. “I’m starting to think you’ve been looking better ever since you got this thing. What is it, some kind of lucky charm?” Lily’s face twisted, and she snatched the mud idol back from Jenna’s hands. “It’s mine!” She clutched it close, almost as if it were a child, gently stroking the little doll’s face as though it were her own flesh and blood. But from my angle, I thought I saw the idol blink. I rubbed my eyes, looking again. The doll was just as before—stony and unmoving. Lily carefully placed the doll in the corner of her desk and covered it with a crimson cloth. The discussion ended with everyone in a tense mood, but my heart pounded with unease. Could it have been my imagination?

Early the next morning, a sharp scream jolted me awake. I looked down from my top bunk to see Jenna, as white as a sheet, huddled against the wall, clutching her stomach. When I looked at her bed, a chill shot through my entire body—her once-clean white sheets were stained red with blood, the metallic scent slowly filling the room. Dana Clarke, another roommate, and I hurriedly helped Jenna to the campus health center, her face pale and drained. But when the doctor examined her, we were all dumbfounded. “You’ve… you’ve had a miscarriage…” Before he could finish, Jenna collapsed to the floor, shaking her head over and over. “No way… I’ve never even dated anyone… How could I possibly have a miscarriage?” The doctor handed us a medical report, muttering, “College kids these days… such reckless behavior…” Jenna dashed into the ladies’ restroom right after we left the health center. Dana hesitated for a moment, glancing around before whispering to me. “Lana, I think Lily has something to do with what happened to Jenna.” My heart skipped a beat. Dana, clearly disturbed, cast a sidelong glance at the restroom, then quickly looked back at me. “I saw Jenna asking Lily on WhatsApp last night about her ‘beauty secret.’” Since Dana and Jenna’s beds were bunked, it was easy to believe Dana had seen it. “I got up in the middle of the night and saw Jenna pacing by Lily’s desk, then heading back and forth to the bathroom… and now, this morning, she’s…” Dana hadn’t even finished her sentence when Jenna emerged, a smile now on her face and dimples showing where there had been none before. “W-what happened? You look so… different!” Jenna glanced proudly at us, her cheeks rosy and glowing—any sign of her earlier weakness was gone.

I watched as my roommates fawned over Lily, anxiety tightening my chest. I glanced over at Dana, who was smiling, offering Lily some snacks. Since witnessing Jenna’s transformation, Dana seemed like a different person, ingratiating herself to Lily constantly. Now, everyone in the dorm except for Minnie and me was obsessed with pleasing Lily. And just as I feared, the next morning, the dorm was filled with a suffocating stench of blood. Dana and our other roommate, Dora Langston, both looked ghastly, and their beds were drenched in blood. The two of them staggered to the public bathroom, clutching blood-stained sheets. It wasn’t long before the two reappeared, looking as fresh and vibrant as models. All four girls then gathered around Lily’s desk, cooing over the mud idol like proud mothers. They noticed Minnie and I hadn’t joined them and forcefully dragged us over. Nervous, I held the doll close, glancing around. Just then, the dorm lights flickered, and, horrifyingly, the idol’s face lifted into a smile. Terrified, I shrieked, throwing the idol aside. Minnie quickly caught it. But that night, something terrible happened to Minnie. After I’d nearly dropped the idol, Lily snapped at me. I felt guilty, so I bought some fruit and snacks from Mason’s Grocery to leave on her desk as an apology. I pretended to sleep, waiting until 3:30 a.m. to place them. Just as I was about to get up, my bed shook slightly, freezing me in place. Moments later, I heard faint, heavy breathing from below. Minnie slept on the bottom bunk, so I figured she might be mumbling in her sleep. But then the bed shook harder, and the rhythmic squeak echoed up to my mattress. “Stop… please, it hurts…” What was going on? My body tensed with fear. Was Minnie dreaming… or was there someone in her bed? Shy and quiet, Minnie hardly interacted with anyone, let alone had a boyfriend. Driven by curiosity, I leaned down to peek over the edge. What I saw made my blood run cold.

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In the seventh year of marriage, my wife, Savannah, came to our home flaunting her pregnant belly and brought her “new partner,” Kyle, her personal assistant, with her. Kyle carefully shielded her belly, sneering, “You’ve been married to Lila for seven years without giving her a child. Now that she’s carrying mine, isn’t it time you step aside?” My wife leaned proudly into Kyle’s arms, adding, “Yeah, you’ve freeloaded here long enough. Time to go.” Looking at Kyle’s naive confidence, I decided to oblige them—and turned the tables by making sure it was she who walked away empty-handed. Eventually, Savannah and Kyle got married, and it was only during their wedding that Kyle discovered Savannah was merely a trophy wife. The real wealth and status belonged to me. Content 1， “Go get me the best Bird’s Nest Soup and Ginseng Tonic.” “I’ll be the new boss here soon, and if any of you don’t start sucking up now, I’ll make sure Lila and I let you go the moment we’re married.” I hadn’t even stepped through the door, and Kyle’s self-satisfied tone hit me hard. Sitting on the couch with a smug grin, he made my stomach twist painfully. Lila and I had been together for ten years—three dating, seven married. We never argued, and she always kept me updated on her whereabouts. If I ever missed a text, she’d get annoyed. Friends even joked she was hopelessly loyal, saying that even if all the men in the world cheated, she wouldn’t. And now, here she was, not only cheating but parading her new partner, challenging me right here in my own house. Just as I was about to speak, Auntie Sue came over, her face a mix of worry and relief, “Sir, thank goodness you’re home.” “Auntie Sue,” I addressed her firmly, “you’ve served the Lane Family loyally, so I’ll show you respect. But don’t overstep—you need to recognize who the real head of this household is.” Auntie Sue glared at Kyle, but before she could say anything, I gently held her arm. “Did Lila ask you to let him move in here?” Feigning surprise, Kyle stood up from the couch, looking at me with a raised eyebrow, “Oh, hey there! Just setting some rules for the staff.” “Not to sound harsh, but you’ve clearly got no clue about running a household of this caliber.” “Just look how lax you’ve been with the staff! That’s not going to work here.” Kyle covered his mouth, chuckling with a calculating gleam in his eye. Without responding, I had the driver bring in some of the special supplements my parents had sent. Kyle was on them in a heartbeat, pulling several boxes toward himself. “Even though it’s all Lila’s money, I should thank you for thinking of us.” Lila’s money? These were luxuries she could never afford alone. Ignoring him, I casually leaned back on the couch as Auntie Sue poured me tea. I took a few sips, then pointed to one of the boxes, “That one’s for, uh, certain ‘performance’ issues. You don’t need that, right?” “Oh, and that one’s for infertility. You’re not…infertile, are you?” Kyle’s smile froze, then returned in full force, full of pride. Leaning in like he was letting me in on a joke, he gloated, “You’ve been married to Lila for seven years, and she never got pregnant, but she’s having my child. Time for you to move aside, don’t you think?” I tightened my grip on the teacup, smirking. “Well, she’d better have a son, then.” Kyle tipped his head arrogantly. “My genes guarantee a son.” He lowered his gaze to me, still smirking. “As soon as our son is born, Lila’s divorcing you.” 2， Divorce me? For this guy? I remembered when Lila wanted us to be together. She stood outside my dorm with roses for a hundred days straight. She saved every dollar to buy a ring and propose, even taking extra jobs. One night, she fell from a scaffolding out of sheer exhaustion, got a concussion, and was unconscious for a week. The moment she woke up, she pulled herself out of bed to propose. She even signed a prenuptial agreement, swearing she’d never touch a dime of mine and swearing by the moon to be left with nothing if she ever betrayed me. And now, she had betrayed me—for him. Kyle’s grin grew even cockier as I stayed silent. “You and Lila have been married for seven years without a child. She’s sick of it.” “Lila told me that even if you knew about us, you’d never do a thing about it, because…” Kyle looked at me, venom in his eyes. “Because someone like Lila has an inheritance to consider. If you can’t give her a child, there are plenty of men who can.” Seeing this “homewrecker” flaunting his victory, I clenched my jaw and asked coldly, “So Lila told you she’s tired of me? And that I’d never have the guts to confront you both?” Kyle’s gaze lowered mockingly. “Exactly.” “She said you’re clueless and a deadbeat. If you hadn’t been careless and lost her first baby, she would’ve been a mom by now…” At that, my heart clenched, and a chill ran through my veins. Almost no one knew about that incident, not even my parents. Lila had promised it would stay between us. But here she was, sharing my most painful secret with this arrogant man. My fists tightened, rage boiling over. Without thinking, I swung and hit him hard across the face. 3， Kyle looked at me, stunned, his face darkening. After a few seconds, he launched himself at me. “Are you crazy?!” “You dare hit me?” “You, a nobody freeloading off the Lane Family, think you can lay a hand on me? If Lila hears about this, she’ll make you pay.” He rolled up his sleeves, looking every bit like a thug, “I’m gonna break your hand so you never try that again.” Just as his hand reached for my shirt, I stepped back quickly, making him stumble onto the couch. Furious, he pointed at the staff, shouting, “What are you all standing there for? Pin this bastard down and beat him!” Seeing that none of the staff took his side, he slumped back, panting. “Lila’s the one paying you all. Soon, she’ll kick him out, and when I’m in charge, every one of you who didn’t back me will be out of a job!” Auntie Sue stepped forward, frowning, and whispered to me, “Sir, should I have him thrown out? If he dies here, it could ruin your reputation.” Looking at Kyle’s pale, shaken expression, I pulled out my phone and called Lila. The instigator himself was here; there was no reason for her to hide anymore. But the call went unanswered. Before, Lila had set a special ringtone just for me, making sure she’d never miss my call, no matter what she was doing. But lately, her phone was always silent, always busy, always out of reach when I called. It seemed almost like a deliberate act to ignore me. Kyle’s grin widened smugly when he saw I hadn’t reached her. “When Lila’s in meetings, I’m the only one who can reach her.” “She set up a special alert just for me, promised she’d always pick up right away…” I looked down, bitterly amused. Turning to Auntie Sue, I instructed, “Please, go to Lila’s office. Tell her if she doesn’t come home, her child’s father might die.” Auntie Sue nodded and made her way out. Kyle’s face paled as he bolted up, grabbing Auntie Sue in a panic, “Don’t go!” Auntie Sue shook his hand off. “I only listen to Mr. Lane. Who do you think you are?” “You’re young; you could be doing anything. Why ruin someone else’s family?” “If I were your mother, I’d have dumped you in a toilet rather than raise you to shame us like this.” Auntie Sue, civil as she was, had a way with words that could cut deep without a single curse. Kyle, shaking with rage, slapped her hard across the face. “How dare a servant speak to me like that?” “You’re fired. Get out now!” Seeing Auntie Sue hurt, I grabbed Kyle’s hand as he tried to swing again. “Enough. I’m still the head of this house.” Kyle sneered, his fist clenched as he pushed against my face. “Victor, I suggest you get smart and divorce Lila, or I’ll make sure your life’s a living hell.” Just then, the sound of cars pulling up outside made Kyle’s expression shift. His posture went slack, and he let himself fall back onto the floor. “Victor, why did you push me…” 4， “Victor Lane, have you lost your mind? How could you push Chris Walters like that?” Helen Turner leaped out of her car, her strides quick and confident. She reached Chris’s side in a few steps, her face full of concern as she helped him up. “Are you hurt?” The way Helen doted on Chris, it was obvious she knew about his affair with Lila. Without shame, Chris leaned into her arms, even managing to force out a tear. “Mom, I just came to check on Victor, knowing that Lila’s due any day now. But he thought my gift was too cheap and actually hit me, saying he’d kill Lila’s baby if he got the chance.” “I wouldn’t have texted you if I hadn’t been afraid he’d beat me to death…” I scoffed under my breath. So that’s why Helen showed up so suddenly. Chris had secretly summoned her for support. Ever since Lila took over the company, Helen had almost disappeared from my life. She claimed she was getting too old to stay active and needed more rest. In reality, she just no longer saw the need to butter me up. Helen patted Chris’s hand and cast me a disapproving look, though her tone remained somewhat tempered. “Victor, whatever you may feel, Chris is still the father of Lila’s baby. Wasn’t that a bit much?” Now emboldened, Chris’s expression turned more pitiful. “Victor, I know I shouldn’t have been with Lila, but we genuinely love each other.” “She told me long ago she didn’t love you, that she kept you around out of sentimentality. I don’t mind if she still takes care of you after we’re married.” “All I want is a proper family for Lila’s child…” Chris started sniffling again, and Helen gently squeezed his hand. “Poor boy, don’t sit on the cold ground; you’ll catch your death. You’ll need your strength for all the future babies with Lila.” “Victor’s a reasonable man. Let’s talk it out and find a way to make this work.” Chris’s eyes sparkled, and he threw himself into Helen’s arms, adding with a sly grin, “Or maybe you don’t want to lose him as a son-in-law?” Helen frowned, clearly uncomfortable, trying to defuse the situation. “Both of you mean the world to me. Let’s wait until Lila gets here and settle this like adults.” I chuckled, lowering my gaze. “All right, Mom. Why don’t you go ahead and give Lila a call? Whatever she decides, I’ll accept it.” Helen hesitated, but finally took out her phone. Just as she was about to dial, Chris’s face went pale. “Mom, I’m not feeling well. Maybe…maybe you should take me to the hospital.” I rolled my eyes at Chris’s poor acting and gave Auntie Sue a slight nod. She slipped through the crowd and said, “No need to make a fuss. There’s a family doctor right here.” Chris’s face turned sour, and he clutched Helen’s arm even tighter, his voice growing louder. “Mom, I’m scared. Victor’s been out to get Lila’s baby all along. I…” Helen’s expression grew more troubled, her gaze shifting toward me. “Victor, should I just take him to the hospital?” I smiled at her calmly. “Mom, don’t you trust me?” Helen looked conflicted. Although Lila was now independent and running her own affairs, Helen wasn’t about to completely sever ties with me, especially not before hearing Lila’s side of things. Unsure of how to proceed, she finally turned to Chris. “Our family doctor’s as good as any hospital. Just sit tight.” Chris opened his mouth to protest but was silenced by the look on Helen’s face. Defeated, he submitted to the doctor’s examination. After confirming that Chris was unharmed, Helen finally breathed a sigh of relief. Foiled, Chris grabbed Helen’s hand again, pouting. Just then, a sharp voice from the doorway interrupted us. “Who said you could make a scene here?!”

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A Reality Dating Show Came to Film in My Mountain Village and Needed a Tour Guide As the only college student in the entire village, this important task naturally fell on my shoulders. I originally planned to be a low-key and responsible tour guide, but who knew the female contestant would pick on me? My family has been wealthy for generations, but did I say anything about it? It’s the 21st century, yet she still judges people by appearances! These dating reality shows nowadays really know how to stir up drama. They could’ve stayed in the big city, but no, they had to come to our remote mountain village to cause a ruckus. Setting up tents, building bonfires. Stargazing, creating romantic vibes. After all that fuss, they realized they forgot the most crucial part for tomorrow – a tour guide. How can they manage without a guide? If someone gets lost in these wild mountains, that would be disastrous. The director took a while to explain the situation to our village chief. After understanding, their requirements were quite high – “Not too rustic, not too ugly”, after all it’s a dating show. “It’d be best if they’re somewhat educated. You know, on a dating show, things might get awkward when two people are alone together.” “That’s when we need a guide who knows how to keep the conversation going.” And just like that, as the only college student in the entire village, this honorable task of being a tour guide fell to me. When the village chief found me, I was taking an afternoon nap on the heated brick bed at home, dreaming of handsome guys. But the moment I saw Gavin, I knew my dreams were just dreams. The girl paired with Gavin really disliked me. Especially when she saw me grinning like an idiot at her partner. That eye roll of hers nearly popped out of its socket. “This mountain girl isn’t quite what I expected,” she said, covering her mouth and giggling halfway through her sentence. “She doesn’t even know to be shy around a handsome guy. I’ve been to the mountains before, and those little girls would blush red at the sight of a guy.” Hearing her sarcastic tone, I didn’t let her off easy. I looked up at her with an innocent expression and asked, “Sister, you’ve been to the mountains before?” “Is that why you’re participating again this time? Because you couldn’t find someone last time?” As soon as I said this, not just the surrounding staff, but even the aloof heartthrob Gavin couldn’t help but look over. I stared at the girl called Bella in front of me, my big eyes blinking with curiosity, yet not appearing too affected. There was no helping it, the mountain air had nourished me well, making me look even younger than my actual age. Plus, my simple clothes made me look like the epitome of a pure and innocent sweetheart. Bella’s face changed colors, going from blue to white, quite a sight to behold. “What nonsense are you spouting, kid? Don’t you know how to respect others?” Oh ho, I couldn’t bear such a big accusation. I immediately put on a hurt expression, tears about to fall. “Hey, hey, hey, what do you mean? I didn’t bully you!” Bella was startled and quickly took a step back. “I just thought Sister Bella was right, I shouldn’t have spoken like that earlier,” I said, pouting pitifully. “I heard my dad say that it’s hard for young ladies in the city to find partners these days. He said it’s not just about high standards for themselves, but also requirements for family background, education, and such.” “When I said that earlier, was I interfering with your chances of dating this brother?” As I said this, my gaze shifted directly to Gavin. Gavin’s eyes were sparkling, probably because he had been secretly laughing earlier, making them look particularly bright. I had heard about Gavin before the show crew came to the mountain. To be honest, it was because of him that I decided to stay in this mountain village for this vacation before the new semester started. Because he was so handsome! “Daughter, are you really staying in the mountains for some pretty boy?” my dad asked when he heard I had my eye on a guy. He immediately had someone investigate his family background. Rich second generation, graduated from a top university, and handsome to boot. He was only appearing as a dating contestant on this show because it was his family’s program, just there to make up the numbers. But in my dad’s eyes, he was just a pretty face, not good enough for me. “I’m just checking him out, Dad. Your daughter has everything, just missing a reliable man.” Hearing me say this, my dad didn’t argue further, and even thought I had a point. “Alright then, anyway, after the crew leaves, we need someone to settle the final payment with them. You can help Dad collect the money then!” Oh, I forgot to mention, the two mountains where the crew is filming belong to my family. It’s an asset left by my grandfather’s generation. He later felt that making money was meaningless, so he stayed on the mountain and became a forest ranger. I grew up on the mountain with him, so I know everything about this place like the back of my hand. But these city folks don’t know my background. They just think I’m some kid who barely managed to get out of the mountains to go to college. So their offensive questions towards me were just brushed off with a laugh, no one took offense, except for Bella whose face was as awkward as a paint palette. Gavin is the type of person with a cold personality, he usually doesn’t say a word about things that don’t concern him. Just when everyone had looked away, Gavin suddenly spoke up, “Yeah, it’s really hard for young ladies in the city to find partners these days.” I saw Gavin’s assistant’s mouth open slightly in surprise. I saw Bella’s face turn as awkward as if she had eaten something terrible. I saw Gavin smiling with his eyes, staring at me. I straightened my back, feeling a sense of pride and confidence bubbling up from within. “Is that so? Then next time I’ll be more careful when talking to sister,” I said. I’m sweet-tongued and capable, so along the way, I led them to all the scenic spots, saving a lot of time for filming. So after half a day, several staff members from the crew were very nice to me. During lunch, they would even slip me some snacks. Bella had been holding back her temper all along, but seeing people taking care of me, her troublemaking radar turned on again. “Oh my, I didn’t notice before,” she raised her chin at her assistant, signaling her to give me all the snacks, “Little sister, you keep these snacks. After all, they’re not common in the mountains.” At this moment, the cameras were rolling, and she acted like some kind angel. But anyone with eyes could see she was just trying to embarrass me. I blinked my eyes and continued to play dumb, my gaze sweeping back and forth over the box of snacks her assistant handed over. “I’ve eaten all these snacks before. Sister, is this your first time eating them? You seem to find them quite novel.” Bella was stunned for a moment, the smile on her face almost instantly freezing, “No, I eat them often. These are specially for you!” “No need to give them to me specially, I eat them often too,” I continued to smile, my attitude polite and friendly. “Besides, sister, you’re amazing. Eating these kinds of snacks often, you must not have such a good figure,” I lowered my head and pinched my little belly, my expression helpless yet cute, “Unlike me.” Bella laughed awkwardly a couple of times, “Your figure is pretty good too.” “Really? I run around these mountains every day, but my figure just isn’t as… unremarkable as sister’s.” My gaze looked Bella up and down, my expression scrunching up as I said the words “unremarkable”. To be honest, I run in the mountains almost every day. The mountains are shaded by green trees, no sunburn and free exercise. If we’re really comparing figures, I’m way better than the delicate Bella. Ignoring Bella’s expression, Gavin was the first to ask in confusion, “You run in these mountains every day?” I turned to look at him and then nodded matter-of-factly, “Yes!” “I heard this area of mountains is special, it’s private property, right?” Gavin was even more confused. “Yes, private property,” I nodded in agreement with what he said, “It belongs to my family.” There was silence for a few seconds, and all the filming staff looked at me differently. Even Bella was so shocked she couldn’t speak. “Your family’s?” Gavin narrowed his eyes, “All these mountains belong to your family?” I made an affirmative sound, stood up and pointed to the farthest mountain they could see, “Yes, they all belong to my family.” “You guys should come play often in the future, I’ll ask my dad to give you a discount.” I’m probably the first person to invite others to play in the mountains. The staff obviously didn’t expect this outcome either. The camera subtly focused on me, completely forgetting that they were filming a dating reality show. But I wasn’t uncomfortable at all, feeling that we had rested enough, I led them to the next destination. “This place is spacious, you can contact the others to come here and set up camp,” I said with a wave of my hand when we arrived. “Set up camp? How far is this from the homestay? I’m not staying in a place like this at night,” Bella spoke up before anyone else could. After saying this, she rolled her big eyes, heavily made up, at me, as if I was the one who had suggested she sleep in a tent. What’s wrong with this woman? If you don’t want to sleep in a tent, why didn’t you tell the crew beforehand? Why are you throwing a fit at me? Bella’s words obviously stunned the director for a moment. “Miss Bella, didn’t we all agree to stay in tents before we came in?” “Who agreed with you? Isn’t staying in tents just for show in front of the camera? In this wild place, with so many insects, what if I get bitten?” City folks are really troublesome. I’ve lived here for years and never been bitten. What, is your blood especially fragrant? Will mosquitoes and bugs specifically bite you? I rolled my eyes on the side and casually found a place to sit down and wait. I thought this was just a conflict between Bella and the crew. Who knew that after arguing for a while, they would point the finger at me. “Didn’t this little girl just say the mountains all belong to her family? What, can’t even arrange a homestay?” I looked up at the helpless director, not understanding how it had become my problem. Gavin came over at this time. “Bella insists on staying at a homestay. The director said they didn’t book that many days, so she’s dragging you into it,” he explained. “She’s being unreasonable. Don’t pay attention to her.” I didn’t want to pay attention to her either, but even if I didn’t say anything, there would still be people coming to pick on me. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Don’t tell me what you said earlier was all lies?” Bella stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. I stared at her, patted my dress, stood up, and smiled openly, “Fine, you just want to stay at a homestay for a while? Come with me!” Our mountain village is poor. Later, when my family became wealthy, we helped out the neighbors in various ways, leading them to better lives. So sometimes, my words carry more weight than the village chief’s. It’s just staying at a homestay for a few more days. When the village chief heard about it, he agreed without even asking for rent. Bella got her wish, but it allowed me to steal the spotlight in front of everyone, making her look at me with even more displeasure. But what could she do even if she was displeased? This is my territory, I have plenty of ways to teach you a lesson. After settling Bella, almost everyone in the crew was exhausted. The director, thinking of everyone’s well-being, decided to just rest for the day. “Is today’s filming over?” I stood at the entrance of the homestay, looking around, then waved over the village chief. “Yeah, we’ve been busy all day. We’re going back to take a hot shower and then prepare to sleep,” the director said, glancing at Bella beside him, his implication clear. If it wasn’t for her insisting on not staying in tents, everyone could have rested earlier. As we were talking, we saw the village chief slowly driving over in a bus. “Everyone get on the bus, bring all your luggage,” I said. “All our luggage?” The director was confused for a moment. I nodded with a smile, “I’m taking you to a nice place.” The so-called nice place was actually the villa my brother built halfway up the mountain. Five stories high, in a secluded location with few people around, perfect as a base for their crew. When the bus stopped, the director and others were dumbfounded. “Everyone can stay here today. There’s hot spring water in the rooms for a good bath, and there’s a restaurant on the second floor. The food is quite ordinary, so please don’t mind,” I explained. “This… this is your home?” The director reacted, his eyes full of envy as he spoke. “It’s just something my brother built for fun when he had nothing better to do. But there are too many rooms, I don’t dare stay here alone usually,” I smiled slightly, my tone nonchalant. The director’s eyes wavered, but he still rubbed his hands, “This is too much, we can’t impose…” “What’s there to impose? Otherwise, it would just be empty,” I continued to smile, “Everyone will be staying in the mountains for a month, there will definitely be various discomforts. At least the sleeping place should be comfortable, right?”

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On the eve of the Wall Street Market crash, I chose to withdraw from the American Stock Tycoon Championship. Both of my so-called childhood friends bombarded me with calls, ordering me to keep competing. I hung up, yanked out the SIM card, flushed it down the toilet, and made myself a bowl of instant noodles. While the stock market roared on, I binged a TV series. In my past life, after I won the championship, the fake heir stormed the stage, tearfully accusing me of stealing his stock trading strategies. My two childhood friends turned on me, each slapping me across the face, publicly denouncing me as a fraud. The fake heir was elevated to “stock market god” status, amassing thousands of adoring fans. Meanwhile, I was ostracized, canceled online, and branded a copycat. In the end, one of his obsessed fans pushed me off a skyscraper—Midtown Manhattan Penthouse. I died instantly. This time around, I bowed out of the championship entirely. As for Ryder Hartwell, the fake heir, I want to see how he’ll survive the impending 2008 Financial Crisis. …… Content

“Hunter, what are you doing sleeping here? Did studying the stock market wear you out?” Felicity “Lissy” Dawson’s crisp voice pulled me back to reality as she gently patted my shoulder. I blinked at her in disbelief, my mind a blank slate. Genevieve “Eve” Lockwood touched the back of my hand, her expression filled with admiration. “I brought your favorite strawberry cake. Come on, take a break,” she said, tearing open the packaging and scooping a piece to feed me. The sweet scent of strawberry wafted toward me as the spoon hovered near my lips. The moment the strawberry touched my lips, a shiver ran through me. I’ve been reborn. The horrifying memory of free-falling from a skyscraper and the sharp pain of my head splitting open felt like a distant nightmare. Seeing me sit there dazed, Genevieve frowned, her tone displeased. “The Stock Tycoon Championship is pushing you too hard. I’ll call my sponsor to lock in the win for you.” Lissy smirked. “I can’t stand Genevieve’s bossy billionaire act, but seeing you like this, Hunter, I’ll back her this time.” In the past, I would have pushed back. “Don’t interfere. I have my own career to focus on.” But now, all I felt was dread. These two women, once my closest allies, now seemed more like sinister messengers from hell. Lissy and I grew up together in the Starlight Haven Orphanage, supporting each other through thick and thin. Genevieve first came into our lives when she was five, tagging along with her parents during one of their orphanage inspections. She snuck off to play, fell into a pond, and Lissy and I saved her. From then on, our trio was inseparable. When I turned eighteen, both Genevieve and Lissy confessed their feelings to me, each vowing to stay by my side forever. But everything changed when Ryder Hartwell came into the picture. In my past life, during the American Stock Tycoon Championship, I led my team to navigate the financial crisis unscathed. Then Ryder emerged, accusing me of stealing his stock trading strategies. I showed my analysis and trading simulations to prove my innocence. But Ryder revealed videos of his stock predictions, each posted an hour before my simulations were logged. That was when Genevieve and Lissy arrived. I’d expected them to defend me. Instead, they turned cold, their words laced with disappointment. “You’re just jealous of Ryder!” “Stealing his parents wasn’t enough for you? Now you’re stealing his stock strategies? How low can you go?” Their betrayal was a knife to the chest. Ryder became a celebrated financial prodigy, showered with accolades and admiration. Meanwhile, I was branded a fraud, endlessly harassed online, and isolated. It all culminated in my untimely death—pushed off my own penthouse by one of Ryder’s rabid fans. Not this time. Never again. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. My chest burned with rage. This time, I’ll strip away their façades, expose their lies, and take back everything that was stolen from me. I forced down the bile rising in my throat and smiled faintly. “I’m withdrawing from the Stock Tycoon Championship.” The sympathy on their faces vanished instantly. Genevieve rubbed her temples, irritated. “Don’t be dramatic. Withdrawing isn’t a joke.” Lissy chimed in, “Exactly. You said you wanted to prove yourself. Was that just talk?” I cut them off, my tone flat. “I’ll stay in the competition… if Ryder withdraws.” Genevieve slammed her hand on the table. “Why? Ryder already gave you the Sterling family name. Can’t you leave him alone?” Her frustration boiled over as she flung the strawberry cake onto the floor. It splattered like a crushed dream. I stared at the mess, my voice cold. “Gave? Let’s call it what it is. He stole my place for twenty-three years—my family, my name. Every time I see him, I’m reminded of the years I spent starving and scavenging just to pay for school.” Lissy frowned. “That’s all in the past, Hunter. It wasn’t Ryder’s fault…” I didn’t bother arguing further. I shut my laptop and motioned toward the door. “You can see yourselves out.”

The two of them stood outside my door, pounding on it so hard the sound reverberated through the hallway. “Hunter Sterling! My patience is wearing thin. You’ve got one minute—open this door, now!” Genevieve “Eve” Lockwood barked, her tone sharp with fury. Felicity “Lissy” Dawson, on the other hand, sounded calm—though her words cut just as deep. “Hunter, why are you making life hard for Ryder? Just because you’ve walked through the rain doesn’t mean you need to tear up someone else’s umbrella.” In my past life, I thought Eve, while bossy, had some kind of moral bottom line. Lissy? I respected her rise from orphan to tech magnate. But now, they looked like confused, entitled fools. I almost opened the door to shoo them away when I heard Ryder Hartwell’s voice, dripping with fake concern. “Eve, Lissy, is Hunter really locking you out?” Eve cleared her throat, embarrassed. “It’s nothing. What are you doing here?” Lissy forced a smile. “Aren’t you busy prepping for the American Stock Tycoon Championship? What brought you back?” Ryder’s tone dropped into something resembling guilt. “I… I want to withdraw.” Lissy narrowed her eyes. “Did someone threaten you?” “No… no one,” Ryder stammered, looking down. “It’s just… I’ve taken so much from Hunter—his family, his name. I owe him that much.” Tears welled in his eyes as he looked at them both. “Don’t blame Hunter, okay? This is my choice. I even offered him my trading strategies. He didn’t steal from me.” “What did you just say?!” Eve yanked him by the arm, her eyes blazing. “Are you telling me Hunter’s been stealing your trading strategies?” Ryder flushed, mumbling, “Eve, not so loud…” Eve let go of his arm, but the damage was done. Ryder wiped his tears and forced a shaky smile. “It’s okay. I can handle this.” The tears spilling onto Eve’s hand seemed to light a fire in her. “That’s it!” she declared. “Hunter Sterling needs to apologize—now!” At that, I swung open the door, her foot mid-kick. Her leg froze awkwardly in the air. “Apologize? For what, exactly?” I crossed my arms. Eve grabbed Lissy’s arm, pulling her aside to stare me down. “You stole Ryder’s trading strategies and kicked him out of the Sterling Estate. You’re disgusting, Hunter!” As if on cue, venomous words spilled from both of them, condemning me without so much as a shred of proof. I had no time for their nonsense. I pulled out my phone and called security. “There’s an unauthorized entry into my apartment. Please handle it.” The building’s private security team arrived swiftly. Within a minute, ten guards were at my door. Ryder’s face flushed red, then pale. Tugging on Eve’s and Lissy’s sleeves, he whispered, “This isn’t my home anymore. If Hunter wants us to leave, we should go.” Lissy shot me a disgusted glare, and Eve clenched her teeth. “Fine. Let’s go.” As she stormed out, Eve paused in the doorway to hiss, “Hunter Sterling, as long as I’m around, you’ll never lay a finger on Ryder!” Then she slammed the door behind her. The apartment fell silent. I took a deep breath and began packing. If Ryder could steal my stock strategies in my last life, he could do it again. The Sterling Estate wasn’t safe. Maybe there were hidden cameras in my room. Maybe he had some virus planted in my laptop. Whatever the case, I needed to cut all ties. I grabbed my suitcase and left, hailing a cab to my secret apartment downtown—a Midtown Manhattan Penthouse I’d bought with my stock earnings. Not even Lissy and Eve knew about it. That night, I microwaved some frozen dumplings, ate in peace, and holed up in my study to analyze the market. The stock market had been on a prolonged bull run, but the data hinted at a downturn on the horizon. After hours of comparing charts and indicators, I pinpointed a volatile stock with short-term potential. If I bought in at the right moment, I could secure at least a 30% gain. I placed my buy order and ordered breakfast delivery. Satisfied, I opened TikTok out of habit—and froze. Ryder had posted a new video just an hour ago. His smug voice filled the screen: “Buy this volatile stock at the opening dip, and you’ll see a 30% return in no time…” I stopped listening, my fingers tightening around my phone. The exact same stock. The exact same prediction. Blood pooled in my mouth as I bit down on my lip, hard. How? How did he know? This was my private apartment—there was no way he could have installed cameras here. What was I missing?

As I wrestled with the impossible, my doorbell rang. I thought it was the breakfast delivery. Instead, it was Genevieve, Lissy, and Ryder—Ryder in a pristine white suit, trailing behind them like a smug prince. Eve didn’t wait for an invitation. She shoved past me and started inspecting the apartment, her gaze sharp. “If you hadn’t moved out, Ryder wouldn’t have worried about your safety. And we never would’ve found out you live in a place like this,” she scoffed. “Where’d you get the money for this penthouse? What shady business are you involved in?” Lissy picked up an antique vase from the shelf, her lip curling. “A Ming dynasty piece? Really? Hunter, we’ve known you for years, and I never realized you had this kind of wealth.” Her eyes darted to my phone, which still displayed Ryder’s TikTok video. Her expression darkened with disdain. “You’re incorrigible.” Eve grabbed my phone and smashed it onto the floor. “I’ve warned you, Hunter. No one is allowed to hurt Ryder on my watch!” Behind them, Ryder gasped dramatically. “Oh, wow. Look at this,” he stammered, pointing at my open laptop. “Hunter’s so dedicated—he’s even replicating my trading simulations.” Eve and Lissy followed his gaze and immediately rounded on me. “Are you trying to frame him?” Eve demanded. “You’re forging evidence now? Have you no shame?” I stayed silent. Explaining myself was pointless—they’d already made up their minds. Since Ryder’s appearance in our lives, I’d become the villain in their narrative. To them, he was the perfect victim, and I was the monster. Eve’s jaw tightened. “Fine. Stay silent. Let me show you what consequences look like.” She opened TikTok and recorded a video, her camera pointed directly at me. “This is Genevieve Lockwood of Lockwood Industries. I’m officially accusing Hunter Sterling, the current leader of the American Stock Tycoon Championship, of stealing Ryder Hartwell’s trading strategies.” She hit upload without a second thought. Lissy followed suit, reposting it with the caption: “I can confirm the allegations.” The posts went viral in minutes. The comments flooded in: “So he’s not a stock god, but a thief?” “Hunter Sterling, get out of the championship!” “OMG, is this a love triangle? Two powerful women defending Ryder? I’m here for it!” Ryder feigned sorrow, his lips twitching in a barely concealed smirk. “Hunter, just apologize, and I’ll forgive you. Eve and Lissy will even delete their posts.” Eve stomped her foot. “Ryder, you’re too kind for your own good!” Lissy sighed, patting his shoulder. “You’re only encouraging him to keep crossing the line.” The trio continued their theatrical performance, but I’d had enough. “Do I need to call the police,” I asked coldly, “or will you leave on your own?” Ryder’s face fell. “Hunter, you can kick me out, but Eve and Lissy? We’ve been friends since childhood. How can you treat them like this?” Eve shot me a murderous glare. “You’ll regret this.” Lissy’s tone was heavy with fake disappointment. “If this is the path you choose, don’t blame us for what happens next.” They stormed out, colliding with the delivery driver on their way. My breakfast spilled across the floor. The delivery guy stammered an apology, but I waved it off. I’d lost my appetite anyway. I sank onto the couch, replaying Ryder’s smug exit in my mind. His smirk lingered—taunting, confident. A shiver ran down my spine. Bolting upright, I ran to my study and reopened my trading software. If the 2008 Financial Crisis was imminent, I needed to act fast. This was my chance to outmaneuver him. For three sleepless days, I prepared. Finally, I liquidated all my holdings and officially withdrew from the championship. Then I opened Ryder’s TikTok account. Sure enough, an hour earlier, he’d posted a video titled: “Stock Market Collapse Incoming—Sell Everything!” Genevieve and Lissy had already reposted it with glowing endorsements. I smiled faintly. The trap was set.

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I failed the bomb disposal mission, and my wife, also a bomb disposal expert, snatched the only blast shield from my hands and gave it to her first love. I grabbed my wife’s hand and begged pitifully. She shook me off with a jerk. “You’re so selfish! You have a system that can revive you, what do you need the blast shield for?” “Jack’s body is already weak and can’t withstand any impact. Two blast shields are the safest option!” But she didn’t know that the system had only given me two chances to revive. One chance I used up, unable to resist her pleas to save her first love. The other I used last year on a mission to save her when she was on the brink of death. Today, I was truly going to die. After the bomb exploded, the entire room became an inferno, with towering flames instantly engulfing my body. The last image before my eyes was of my wife, Rachel, using the blast shield that originally belonged to me to protect her first love, Jack. When I regained consciousness, I found myself in a spirit form, following Rachel. At that moment, she was tenderly blowing on Jack’s hand, which had been slightly singed by the flames, her face full of concern. “Jack, your hand is all red. Let’s go to the hospital quickly to get it bandaged.” Hearing this, my heart felt as if it had been soaked in vinegar, unbearably sour. Anyone who saw this scene would comment on the deep affection between the two. But this woman was my wife of three years. She had never shown such a concerned expression for me. The redness on Jack’s palm was barely visible unless you looked closely, yet Rachel was so worried. When I was engulfed in flames, she didn’t even spare me a glance. Jack looked scared. “Rachel, it’s just a small injury, nothing serious. It’s a good thing you were there, or I would have been seriously hurt for sure.” Rachel still looked tense: “Who says it’s a small injury? What if there’s some internal damage? I won’t be at ease until a doctor checks it out.” With that, she immediately took Jack’s hand and walked towards the exit, her usually calm face full of anxiety. Before getting into the car, Emily, a colleague from the same team, stopped her with a frown: “Luke is still at the scene and hasn’t come out. The bomb just exploded, could something have happened to him?” Hearing my name, Rachel’s expression instantly turned to disgust, her face full of impatience. “What could happen? That selfish bastard values his life too much, he’s probably hiding somewhere.” “Get out of the way quickly, Jack needs to go to the hospital, we can’t delay.” From leaving the explosion site until now, Rachel hadn’t mentioned me once, hadn’t shown any concern for my safety. Even when someone else worried that something might have happened to me, she had to belittle me. I must be quite a failure as a husband in her heart. Rachel pushed Emily aside and got into the car with Jack, heading straight to the hospital, ignoring Emily’s calls behind them. At the hospital, after the examination, Jack hadn’t suffered any injuries, just a small red mark on his hand where the flame had singed it. Rachel, however, acted as if it was a major crisis, insisting that the doctor must bandage it well. Jack looked at her with emotion: “Rachel, you’re still so good to me.” Then he hesitated before speaking again: “Without a blast shield, will Luke be alright? After all, he came to save me. I’ll feel guilty if something happens to him.” Rachel waved her hand, her words showing no concern at all. “Luke has a system, he won’t die. Your body is already not good, you can’t take any injury.” “He even tried to keep the blast shield earlier, saying he would die this time. He’s so selfish. He clearly has a system that can save him, yet he tried to trick me. I think he just can’t stand seeing me being good to you. When he comes back, I’m going to have a big fight with him for sure.” By the end, Rachel was full of anger, as if I had committed some terrible crime. But I just wanted to live. I hadn’t lied to her either. The system had only given me two chances to revive, and I had already used them up.

I was a task executor who had crossed over to this world, and my mission was to make Rachel marry me. The year I met Rachel, she was, like me, a newly recruited bomb disposal officer in the police force. At that time, her first love Jack had broken up with her abruptly to go abroad, leaving Rachel in a daze every day. It was I who stayed by her side constantly, helping her out of the gloom. Three years later, we naturally became husband and wife, and my mission was successfully completed. The system gave me a reward: I could stay in this world and had two chances to revive. At that time, I had also truly fallen in love with Rachel. I believed that the most important thing between husband and wife was honesty, so I told her about the system without reservation. I even jokingly said, “No matter what, I won’t die. I can stay with you until we’re old.” But I never thought that this sentence would become my death warrant. Shortly after we got married, Jack returned from abroad. Jack only shed a few tears in front of Rachel, explaining that going abroad was entirely his parents’ wish, which he couldn’t disobey. Rachel believed him without hesitation. She seemed to forget the pain Jack had caused her back then and started following him around, caring for his every need. She even begged me to use the system to save Jack when he was in a life-threatening car accident. When I saw Rachel crying her eyes out, I couldn’t say I wasn’t heartbroken. How could I not be sad and angry when my wife was shedding tears for another man? But I loved Rachel deeply, and I couldn’t refuse her request. So, the first chance to revive was used up. Last year, after Rachel had finished defusing a bomb and was about to return to the team, she was shot by a criminal who had fought back, right in the heart. When Rachel was sent to the hospital, the doctor took one look and issued a death notice. I couldn’t accept Rachel leaving me, so I resolutely gave her my last chance. Before reviving Rachel, the system had repeatedly asked me if I was sure, as this was the last chance. Wouldn’t I regret it? I answered firmly: “I won’t regret it.” The system agreed, and after that, it never appeared again. At that time, I thought Rachel’s feelings for Jack were just an obsession, and that with time, she would naturally come to her senses and return to our family. And I firmly believed that I could grow old with Rachel. But now, the cruel reality had given me a harsh wake-up call. It turned out that Rachel had always only loved Jack. And I was just deluding myself.

Jack looked at Rachel, seeming to want to say something but holding back. Rachel tapped his forehead, her tone intimate: “Jack, what is it that you can’t tell me?” Jack clenched his fist, as if making up his mind to speak. “Rachel, Luke has always been the ace bomb disposal expert in your team, and with you assisting this time, how could the bomb explode? Could it be that…” Jack didn’t continue, but left room for endless imagination. A raging fire of anger surged in my heart, my hands clenched into fists, wishing I could rush forward and give him a couple of punches. I was already dead, yet he still wouldn’t let me go, trying to poison Rachel against me. As a police officer, I knew my responsibilities and never brought personal emotions into work. Although I already knew Rachel didn’t love me, I thought that after working together for six years, she should understand my character. The next second, Rachel’s words shattered my illusions. “I was wondering why the bomb suddenly exploded when we were defusing it so well. It must be that lunatic Luke deliberately trying to harm you. I’m going to report him to the police force. He doesn’t deserve to be a police officer!” Rachel’s face was red with anger. I had no doubt that if I appeared in front of her now, she would definitely slap me and then curse me viciously. At this moment, my heart was filled with bitterness. Had I overestimated my image in Rachel’s heart, or was Jack so important to her that she would believe whatever he said? Probably both. Six years of being together couldn’t buy even a little trust from her. Now, I was probably just a despicable villain in her heart. But I still remembered what she had said at our wedding, “You’re not just my husband, but also my comrade-in-arms whom I’ll trust for a lifetime.” Now, it only took a light remark from Jack for her to forget her past promises. I suddenly wanted to know, when she learns of my death, will she regret the words she said today? Rachel paced back and forth in the room, unable to vent her anger. She took out her phone and sent me messages. “Luke, how dare you tamper with the bomb, I’ll make you pay for this!” “Don’t think I don’t know you can’t die, reply to me right now.” Rachel stared at her phone intently, but after one minute, two minutes passed, there was still no reply. In the past, I would always reply to her messages within ten seconds. Rachel’s chest heaved up and down with anger. “Fine, pretend to be dead then. Don’t think I can’t do anything about you.” She called a colleague who had stayed at the scene, not even waiting for the other end to speak before she shouted angrily: “Tell Luke I know all about his dirty tricks, he’d better be prepared to face disciplinary action!” An anxious voice came from the other end of the phone: “Luke hasn’t come out yet, the fire hasn’t been put out and we can’t get in. He might really be in trouble.” Rachel sneered, her tone icy cold. “He won’t die. I think he’s just hiding because he’s afraid of being held accountable. You tell him this trick won’t work. He almost killed Jack, I will definitely get to the bottom of this!” With that, she angrily hung up the phone, still cursing under her breath. A flash of smugness passed through Jack’s eyes, but he pretended to be magnanimous. “Rachel, it’s normal for men to be jealous. Luke was probably just momentarily confused. Let it go.” But Rachel glared at him with a stern face. “How can we let it go! Your body hasn’t been good since the car accident, and this time if it weren’t for the blast shield, your life could have been in danger. We can’t let him off easily!” Jack hugged Rachel emotionally, the two looking like a couple who had survived a disaster together.

After leaving the hospital, Rachel took Jack directly home, using the excuse that he was injured and couldn’t manage daily life conveniently. As soon as they entered, Jack took out slippers in a familiar manner, and even accurately found the location of the remote control to turn on the TV. This series of familiar actions all demonstrated that Rachel had brought him to our home many times before. Rachel went to the kitchen and started cooking, muttering about what Jack liked to eat. Jack looked at her tenderly. “Rachel, it’s been so long since I’ve tasted your cooking.” In our three years of marriage, Rachel had never cooked. She said she didn’t know how. I didn’t mind and took over all the cooking and other household chores. Now it seems, she just didn’t cook for me. During dinner, Rachel’s phone suddenly rang, with a suppressed crying voice coming through. “You need to come quickly, Luke… he’s dead.” Rachel rolled her eyes, not believing a word. “Emily, I know you’re close to Luke, but there’s no need to use such a clumsy excuse to trick me. He can’t die.” Emily didn’t expect her to respond like this. She paused, then cried even louder. “I’m really not lying, Luke…” Before Emily could finish, Rachel hung up the phone. “Luke is really going too far, trying to use such a lie to make us forgive him. Ha, absolutely not!” “Even if something happened to him, he has the system to save him. How could he possibly die?” Jack chimed in: “He’s probably just jealous. Men understand men, Rachel, don’t be too angry.” Hearing this, Rachel slammed down her chopsticks, looking even more angry. “If he doesn’t apologize to you properly when he comes back, I’ll divorce him!” My heart felt like it was stuffed with a wad of cotton, unable to breathe. When I begged her not to take away the blast shield, I had already told her that I only had two chances to revive. But she didn’t believe me at all, thinking I was just being jealous. Even now when someone told her about my death, she thought it was my lie, and even wanted to use divorce to threaten me. But this trick would never work again. After dinner, Jack directly lay down on the bed that belonged to Rachel and me. The temperature in the room was rising, and the two of them were getting closer and closer. I desperately wanted to escape from here, but a force confined me to the room, unable to leave. Just as they were about to kiss, Rachel suddenly sat up. She tugged at the corner of her mouth: “Jack, your hand is injured, you should focus on recovering.” With that, she fled to the next bedroom. I couldn’t quite understand. Wasn’t this what Rachel wanted? Early the next morning, Rachel prepared a table full of breakfast and left a note with detailed instructions and reminders before she felt at ease to leave for work. At the police station, Rachel found everyone staring at her with sympathetic gazes. She didn’t understand and casually asked a colleague why they were staring at her like that. The colleague was about to speak when the chief suddenly called Rachel over. Rachel felt a bit puzzled: “Chief, what’s going on?” The chief patted her shoulder and led her to the door of the morgue. “Rachel, my condolences.” Rachel felt a bit panicked but suppressed the unease in her heart. “Chief, what are you talking about? Everyone in my family is fine, what condolences?” The chief sighed: “After the bomb exploded yesterday, Luke didn’t manage to escape successfully. He died at the scene. His body is inside.” Rachel smiled stiffly: “Chief, don’t joke with me. That explosion was Luke’s own doing, he couldn’t possibly die. He must be hiding because he’s afraid of being held accountable.” The chief’s expression became serious when he heard Rachel slandering me. “Rachel! Luke is your husband and a police officer. How can you question his professional ethics!” “The body in the morgue is indeed his. We’ve already verified the DNA. If you don’t believe it, go see for yourself.” Rachel swallowed hard, hesitantly walking forward, still not backing down. “I’ll look then. It must be a fake body up there. Luke must have used some trick to escape.” Rachel’s hand hovered over the white cloth, her trembling hands revealing her unsettled heart. She slowly lifted the white cloth…

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My husband found the perfect excuse to juggle both me and his “colleague” openly and without shame. Before our marriage, I signed a prenuptial confidentiality agreement, agreeing to remain the hidden wife of an Academy Award Winner. If I ever initiated a divorce, I’d walk away with only $18.80 in compensation. For three years of marriage, I’ve watched him flaunt his so-called “Publicity Stunt Pairing” with that colleague. They’ve traveled together, attended events as a couple, and even been photographed entering private hotels arm in arm. Meanwhile, as his “perfect housewife,” I’ve been stuck caring for his bedridden parents and working as his assistant—washing his clothes, cooking his meals, and putting up with his excuses. I didn’t realize how far this charade would go until one night, when his “Shining Star” called, whining about fans begging them to marry. “When are you going to make me your wife?” she pouted. He replied softly, “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll give you the wedding of the century soon. Promise.” …… Content

The cold wind sweeping in from the balcony carried the sound of Gabriel Whitmore’s voice. His words made my body stiffen under the blankets, my throat tightening until I could barely breathe. On the other end of the call, Serena Sterling’s tearful plea was unmistakable. “Gabe, everyone’s looking forward to our wedding. I can’t wait anymore. Please, hurry up and marry me!” Standing on the balcony, his features softened under the dim light as he coaxed her like she was made of glass. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t let you down.” Even in the dead of night, being interrupted didn’t bother him. Talking to his delicate “White Moonlight” seemed to be a labor of love. When Gabriel returned to the bedroom, there was still a trace of a smile in his eyes. But the moment he saw me sitting on the edge of the bed, his expression darkened. “Lexa, what are you doing sitting there in the middle of the night? Are you trying to scare me to death?” I swallowed my bitterness and forced a smile. “What about you? How does it feel, sweet-talking your lover at this hour?” “Lover? Don’t be ridiculous,” Gabriel snapped, irritation flickering in his eyes. “What I have with Serena is strictly for the fans. Don’t disrespect her with such vile accusations.” The audacity of his response made my voice tremble. “Disrespect? Tell me, Gabe, what respectable ‘colleague couple’ in the industry plans a wedding?” His jaw clenched, and he averted his gaze. “You heard that?” Rubbing the back of his neck, he muttered, “I don’t have a choice. The fans demand it. Serena and I have fans all over the world. If we don’t finish the act, it’d be a slap in the face to her efforts.” “Efforts?” My chest tightened with sharp, numbing pain. My body trembled as though it had a mind of its own. For three years, I had to watch the world treat them as the perfect couple. I had to watch them flaunt their love in front of cameras, smiling, holding hands. All while I, Gabriel Whitmore’s real wife, was kept hidden like some dirty little secret. Yet he felt guilty about letting Serena down? What about me? What about the years I spent swallowing my pride and staying silent? “Lexa,” Gabriel began, his tone turning righteous, “this is my career. You know that. Just bear with it a little longer, okay? Everything I do is for the job.” He always justified it this way. Every scripted kiss, every public display of affection—it was all “work.” For a long time, I believed him. Until a friend sent me pictures of him and Serena entering a private hotel suite together just two nights ago. Now, his “work” involved planning a wedding so grand it would shock the world. Meanwhile, when we married, there wasn’t even a ceremony. My voice cracked as I struggled to speak. “Gabe, Serena is just a colleague, right? You’re giving her the wedding of the century. What about me? I’m your wife. Did I ever get a wedding?” When we tied the knot, Gabriel was still a struggling extra, scraping by on bit parts. His parents were so paranoid I was only marrying him for his money that they treated me with disdain from the start. To ease their fears, I signed that ridiculous confidentiality agreement, even agreeing not to have a wedding. Gabriel swore to my parents, “Once I’ve made it big, I’ll give Lexa the wedding she deserves.” But even after he became an Academy Award Winner, he never brought it up again. The one time I hinted that we could have a small ceremony with just family, he waved it off, saying, “Work’s too busy. Maybe later.” But now? Serena’s single phone call was all it took for him to agree. I must’ve seemed unreasonable to him because his tone grew sharp with irritation. “Lexa, I’ve explained this a thousand times. Why can’t you understand? Serena and I are a global sensation. I can’t just walk away.” “Can’t you wait a little longer?” I didn’t answer. The night stretched on, cold and cutting. Looking at the impatience on his face, I suddenly realized how exhausted I was. I didn’t want to wait anymore.

“Lexa, Serena and I have a plan,” Gabriel said, his voice coaxing as if he were talking to a child. “We’ll announce a peaceful breakup after the wedding. At most, another year, and I’ll tell the world you’re my wife.” “This is all for us—for our future. Can’t you see that?” The sheer absurdity of his words made me laugh. I was already his wife, in name and in law. But here I was, hidden in the shadows, waiting for my husband to “give” me what was already mine. Meanwhile, for Serena, he made everything easy. When they first began their “Publicity Stunt Pairing,” she was just a rookie actress. The backlash from his fans was immediate, with waves of online harassment aimed at her. So Gabriel played the role of the protective boyfriend, suing anyone who dared insult her. At a gala, when reporters pried into their relationship, he didn’t even deny it. Instead, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her in front of the flashing cameras. The room erupted with applause. And me? I was sitting in the audience, watching my husband kiss another woman, disguised as his assistant. He later explained it away as part of the script, something the company had arranged. But the “script” became their lives. Public outings, shared vacations, even private gatherings with friends—they were inseparable. He didn’t even bother bringing me along anymore. Eventually, even our mutual friends believed they were perfect for each other. Tears burned in my eyes, but Gabriel brushed them aside with his typical indifference. “Don’t listen to them, Lexa. You’re my wife. What others think doesn’t matter.” Then, as if to prove his devotion, he leaned in to kiss my forehead, gazing at me with those deep, expressive eyes that had fooled me countless times before. But this time, I didn’t budge. “Let’s sleep,” I said, pulling the blanket over my head. I felt him hesitate. Then, he sighed and lay beside me, draping an arm around me. The cold glint of our wedding rings briefly caught the dim light before fading back into darkness. It was only then that I truly realized how far I had fallen.

The next morning, as I was waking up, Gabriel Whitmore called. “Don’t let your temper stop you from visiting the nursing home today to look after my parents,” he said bluntly. Gabriel prided himself on being a dutiful son. Even though Gerald and Dolores Whitmore were living in the best care facility money could buy, his mantra was, “Children should personally care for their parents.” “Okay,” I replied dully and hung up. Then, like clockwork, I headed to Golden Horizon Care Center. As I stepped into the room with a pot of freshly made chicken soup, Dolores’s voice rang out, giddy with pride. “Oh, Natalie, isn’t Serena just stunning? She’ll be my daughter-in-law soon!” She gestured at the television where Serena Sterling’s face filled the screen. The young nurse, Natalie Parker, lit up with excitement. “They’re really getting married?” “Of course!” Gerald and Dolores replied in unison, beaming. My steps faltered. A sharp pang shot through my chest, but I swallowed the bitterness and spoke softly, “Dad, Mom.” The moment my voice registered, their smiles vanished, replaced by cold indifference. Natalie turned to me, confused. “And this lady who’s here every day is…?” “She’s our goddaughter,” Dolores interrupted without missing a beat. Natalie nodded, her misunderstanding cemented. “Wow, I’m so jealous! You’re so lucky to be part of Gabe’s family. Must be amazing to be his sister!” I forced a stiff smile but felt no joy. When Natalie left, Dolores’s tone turned sharp. “Lexa, must you sneak in here unannounced? Trying to scare us to death?” I held back my frustration. “You looked so happy chatting. I didn’t want to interrupt.” Setting the chicken soup on the table, I said, “I made this for you. Please give it a try.” The moment Gerald lifted the bowl to his nose, he sneered and threw it onto the floor. Scalding liquid splashed onto my hand, making me flinch in pain as tears stung my eyes. “What is this? It tastes awful! Lexa, you can’t even cook properly. What good are you?” Dolores scoffed. “I’ll make it again,” I murmured, suppressing my anger while cleaning the mess. A crushing sense of futility enveloped me. Three years of unyielding devotion felt utterly wasted. After finishing their massages, I prepared to leave but decided to ask one last question, holding onto a sliver of hope. “Did you know? Gabe’s planning a wedding with Serena.” “Really?” Dolores’s face lit up, her excitement matching Gerald’s. “That’s wonderful!” they exclaimed, nearly bursting with joy. I expected the blow, but the ache still seeped into my chest. “But I’m his wife,” I whispered, forcing a smile. Gerald’s face twisted into a sneer. “Don’t push your luck. We never wanted you to marry him in the first place. You’ve been sucking him dry for years. You should know when to let go.” Dolores chimed in, her voice dripping with disdain. “Exactly. Stop clinging to Gabe like some parasite.” Parasite? I shouldn’t have been surprised by their cruelty, but hearing it out loud sent a tremor through my body. For three years, I had never asked Gabriel for a dime, nor had he spent anything on me. I paid for my own expenses and cared for his parents selflessly. And yet, this was the label I earned. It hit me then. Gabriel’s cold heart wasn’t a fluke—it was inherited. Three years of devotion couldn’t thaw them, nor could it change him. As their scolding and demands to fetch a bedpan continued, I turned on my heel and walked out without a word. Outside, the sun was starting to break through the clouds. I took a deep breath and made a call. “Hello? Do you have time? …I’ve made my decision.”

When I returned home, the living room lights were already on. Gabriel was sitting on the couch, radiating anger. Before I could speak, he leaped up and stormed toward me, his voice rising. “What the hell was that, Lexa? I’ve been trying to make peace, and you show up at my parents’ place just to throw a tantrum?” I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. “I made them soup, Gabe. They didn’t even taste it before throwing it on the floor. They have an entire staff of caregivers, yet they still expect me to clean up after them.” “As your wife, I don’t even rank as high as a housekeeper.” Gabriel frowned, exasperated. “They’re old, Lexa. They’re bound to be emotional. They trust you, that’s why they rely on you.” “Trust me?” I spat, disgusted. “They trust you the most. So why don’t you handle your own parents’ bodily fluids?” In three years, Gabriel had barely visited the nursing home. His excuse? Work kept him too busy. The truth? He couldn’t stomach the indignity of his parents’ failing health, so he passed the responsibility onto me. And because I loved him, I accepted it. But my sacrifices were taken for granted. “How dare you talk to me like that?” Gabriel snarled, his temper boiling over. He slammed the coffee table so hard that the pot of boiling water spilled. The scalding liquid seared my hand, leaving a large, blistering welt. My body trembled from the searing pain. “Maybe now you’ll learn to keep quiet,” Gabriel said, satisfaction flickering in his eyes as he loomed closer. “Can’t you learn something from Serena? She’s gentle, understanding. Why can’t you stop picking fights?” Every sentence dripped with Serena’s name. Always Serena. Clenching my jaw, I stood despite the pain and laughed bitterly. “If you love Serena so much, then marry her.” “Lexa!” Gabriel’s face turned crimson, his voice shaking with rage. “Say that again, and I’ll divorce you.” This was exactly what I had been waiting for. Meeting his gaze, I responded firmly, “Good. Let’s get a divorce.” For a moment, he froze, his expression a mix of disbelief and anger. “You’re serious?” he asked hoarsely. “Yes.” His reaction grew frantic. “Lexa, are you insane? You know the agreement. If you’re the one to file for divorce, you’ll only get $18.80.” That clause had always been his safety net. It never occurred to him that I might leave. Without hesitation, I pulled out my phone and held up my payment app. “Send me $18.80, and I’ll sign the papers right now. I’ll even throw in a parting gift.”

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My father, Bruce Smith, had been having an affair with a model, a girl who was barely old enough to be out of her teens. My mother, Amanda Smith, completely shattered and collapsed into a flood of tears. All she could demand was a divorce. In the courtroom, the judge, with a solemn expression, looked directly at me. I was only ten years old. His voice was gentle but firm as he asked me to make an unthinkable choice, “Which parent will you live with?” Under the hopeful, pleading gaze of my mother, I chose to live with my father. “My mother can’t give me a little brother,” I complained. “Girls are too fussy. I need to help Dad take care of my brother, the one who hasn’t been born yet.” Amanda wailed, her face crumpling as she buried it in her hands. I thought, “What a performance. She’s putting on quite the show.” In my innocent mind, both she and I knew that better days were just on the horizon. The courtroom was suffocating. The judge directed a question straight at me. “Whom do you wish to live with, child?” Everyone expected me to choose Amanda. Amanda was the one who provided stability and the warmth of a mother’s love. But I didn’t. Instead, I turned my gaze toward Bruce, who stood a few feet away and caressed the belly of his mistress. Bruce looked genuinely surprised when I pointed at him, but in his eyes, I wasn’t more than a mere afterthought. After all, I was just a daughter, not the son he’d always wanted. To him, I was a placeholder, a girl who’d eventually marry off and leave the family name behind. When the judge asked for my reasons, I spoke with the innocent conviction only a child could have. “Daddy’s so pitiful. He just wants to be with Helen. What’s wrong with that? Daddy has to work hard to make money, and Helen is pregnant. I need to help Daddy take care of my little brother inside her. Mom’s always busy teaching, but she can’t have a son and won’t let Daddy have one with someone else. Mom’s the mean one.” I glanced at Mom, whose face was buried in her hands. Her body shook with sobs. But I knew better. I knew my mother. Behind those trembling fingers, she was stifling a laugh. This was all part of the plan. She played her part, and I played mine.

Suddenly, the world around me flickered out, and with a blink, I was thrust back to the very year my parents decided to part ways. Amanda had yet to discover Bruce’s affair with that young model. She hadn’t stormed into his office, confronting him. It was the dead of night, but sleep was the last thing on my mind. Time was running out. Tomorrow, Amanda would stumble upon the telltale signs of Bruce’s betrayal on his phone after he failed to come home one night. This discovery would push her past her limits, and she would decide it was time to face him and end their marriage. I sprang out of bed and raced toward the master bedroom, my small fist pounding on the door. This evening was my prime, perhaps only, chance to step in and stop the heartbreak of my history from unfolding anew. Amanda, groggy and disoriented, opened it, her eyes heavy with sleep. She looked at me, puzzled by my nighttime urgency. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” Without a word, I slipped past her, quickly locking the door behind me. Sitting on her bed, I took a deep breath and let it all spill out. I told her everything because I knew, apart from myself, no one loved me more than my mother. I carefully avoided any mention of my death, which was too painful. Instead, I focused on how we could take control and stop Bruce from destroying our lives. Her eyes were welled up with tears. Sensing the words I couldn’t voice, she drew me into a tight embrace. There, in the comforting cocoon of her arms, I absorbed her warmth, finding solace in her protective hold. I looked up at her. “He’s been paranoid, installing cameras around the house, thinking you’d cheat on him, while he’s the one cheating.” Thankfully, he hadn’t stooped to putting cameras in the bedroom; otherwise, I couldn’t have safely disclosed everything to Amanda right there. I suggested she secretly collect proof and go straight for a divorce. I assured her that in court, I would opt to stay with Bruce. Watching her eyes brim with tears and her voice halting, I placed my hand over her mouth softly. “Mom, do you believe in me? I swear, I’ll see to it that you live well from now on.”

After the court hearing, I moved into a luxurious riverside villa with Bruce, slipping effortlessly into the role of the caring daughter. It wasn’t suspicion that struck me when Bruce, despite his financial troubles, managed to move into a luxurious villa; instead, I was excitedly talking about how Helen would have an easier time with the baby in a bigger house. I ran to my father, eager to show my support, insisting I would take good care of the little brother in Helen’s belly. Perhaps out of some lingering paternal affection, Bruce immediately transferred fifty thousand dollars to me, telling me to use it as I saw fit. He was quick to return to work, dropping us off before rushing off again. His haste wasn’t lost on me; I wasn’t a child, so I knew what it meant. And I bet Helen knew even better. The moment Bruce left, Helen White dropped her façade of kindness. She snapped at me, calling me shameless and scolding me for being so demanding despite my age. There was something unreadable in her eyes as she harshly pinched my forehead with her sharp nails, snatched my phone, and transferred the fifty thousand dollars Bruce had just given me to herself. She leaned in close, her voice dripping with authority, “If you dare tell your father, things will get much worse for you. Understand?” I nodded, playing the part of the frightened child, but inside, I was laughing at her transparent attempt to control me.

The next morning, I placed a simple breakfast of bread and jam on the expensive table. Bruce, fresh from his morning routine, couldn’t hide his disgust. He struggled to swallow the bland breakfast, his eyes meeting mine, full of hope. With a moment’s hesitation, he took a bite, only to spit it out immediately, his face contorting in disgust. I secretly chuckled inside; this was my specially crafted culinary disaster, designed to be unpalatable. When he finally recovered from the taste, he frowned and scolded, “Where did you get this breakfast? It’s awful. You’re old enough to buy something decent.” Then, noticing my unfit school uniform, he asked with irritation, “I gave you money to spend as you see fit. Can’t you buy a new uniform? You’re embarrassing me by going out like that.” At this point, Helen, who was awakened by the commotion, leaned lazily against the railing. Her pregnant belly was prominently visible. She watched the scene unfold with amusement. She probably thought I was getting another round of scolding. My lips curled into a slight smile, though I made sure my face wore a mask of grievance. Inside, however, I was thrilled. “Everyone’s here. Showtime.” Tears welled up in my eyes effortlessly, falling like pearls, evoking sympathy from anyone who looked my way. I met Bruce’s gaze with a wronged expression, sniffling before I spoke. “Dad, don’t blame Helen, but she took my money. Oops! Helen said not to tell you. Helen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to let it slip. Please don’t make me leave.” I wailed as if I’d accidentally let something slip, apologizing fearfully to Helen. The act was flawless. I burst into soft sobs, apologizing repeatedly and pleading not to be thrown out. It was a great performance. Perhaps moved by my act, or maybe just fed up with Helen’s arrogance, Bruce turned to Helen and harshly rebuked, “You’re not my wife yet. If you don’t give me a son, get lost!” The words were like music to my ears. In a conciliatory gesture, he handed me his card. Observing Helen’s barely contained fury, I acted as if I was taking the card with great reluctance, which only prompted Bruce to scoff. “Petty,” he muttered. I accepted his scolding, though the corners of my mouth betrayed me, rising with a joy that was tough to contain. I assumed Helen would keep a low profile for some time after the incident; after all, one would think even the most brazen would want to preserve some semblance of dignity. However, as I should have anticipated, the vigor of a mistress, particularly one who had successfully become pregnant, was limitless. The very next day, she struck back. She mixed crushed peanuts into my breakfast, knowing full well I had a mild peanut allergy, right before my school placement exams. I laughed coldly to myself and “accidentally” spilled the oatmeal all over her pregnant belly. The autumn air did cool the oatmeal’s heat. But the sudden sensation on her skin made her jump in fright, and like many pregnant women, her pelvic floor muscles gave way, causing her to wet herself. Her face flushed crimson. Bruce, standing just a few feet away, looked at her with clear disgust before turning away and walking out of the room. Her fingers turned white as she clutched her skirt. A week later, she decided to hit back by paying my classmates to bully me. It was hilarious. What she didn’t know was that I wasn’t just another student. I was the class president, elected unanimously. I took the money and treated the entire class to a barbecue instead. We all ate to our heart’s content, laughing. Two weeks later, Helen, despite her pregnancy, tried something even more desperate. She staged a fall, blatantly attempting to frame me for causing her to slip. I just felt confused. Then, I pointed upwards to the three newly installed cameras on the ceiling that provided full coverage with no blind spots. I mentally asked, “Are you a fool?” Her pupils contracted in panic as she realized her little performance had been captured on camera. Without a word, she got up as if nothing had happened. After all that fuss, I was unscathed, but the fallout was even more bitter for her. My unfaithful father became even less inclined to come home. Now, Helen was confined at home, her pregnancy keeping her mostly indoors, while Bruce continued to make out with other women outside. I went to school each day with a spring; I even played the part of the dutiful child in front of Bruce, charming him into driving me to school himself. As a result, everyone at school knew that my dad was a powerful man with money, influence, and prestige, making it even less likely for anyone to dare mess with me.

From that point on, Helen seemed to give in, pouring all her attention into the pregnancy. In the meantime, I’d sneak away to spend time with Amanda, indulging her with shopping sprees on Bruce’s credit card. Of course, Bruce wasn’t exactly thrilled about the constant drain on his finances. So, to smooth things over, I’d make a pit stop at a flea market on my way home, pick up something cheap, have it prettily wrapped, and then exaggerate its price when I got back. Finally, I managed to keep the extra cash for myself, cleverly tucking away the difference. But I knew this little game couldn’t last forever. I was already thinking of other ways to bring in money. However, before I could even start, Helen was ready to give birth. After a frantic rush to the hospital, she delivered a healthy baby boy, sending him into raptures of joy, and his attitude toward her softened considerably. He had yearned for a son for ages, from before my time to the present, and now his dream was realized. Right after her postpartum recovery, Helen begged Bruce to make their relationship official by getting married. I clicked my tongue in disbelief, exclaiming, “Men like my dad weren’t built for loyalty. His infidelity knows no bounds, spreading evenly among all the beauties he meets.” Certainly, Helen’s beauty was unmistakable; she had the kind of allure that could make her a standout in the entertainment world, if not become an instant star. Yet, aspirations differed from person to person. Helen chose the security and affection of being a beloved wife over the pursuit of personal ambitions or the independence of soaring solo. She triumphed over all her rivals, cementing her position with the birth of her son. With the legal bond of marriage, she likely believed her status was now beyond challenge, yet she couldn’t abandon her former habits, resuming her attempts to dominate me. This time, she claimed I was a disturbance to her cherished little one. Taking advantage of the situation, I lamented to Bruce about feeling unwelcome at home. Since Helen had just scored a significant feat by giving Bruce a son, he was now completely at her service, attending to her every whim. Consequently, he arranged for me to live in a generous apartment near a prestigious university, providing me with a substantial allowance for my expenses. Truth be told, if this was what it meant to “suffer,” I wouldn’t mind enduring such “injustices” a few more times. With money in my pocket, everything became easier.

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Just because I ate a couple extra bites of the cake Mrs. Wilson made, my mom suddenly lost it and ruined my birthday party. “You’re truly your father’s daughter, with the same taste,” she spat. “Since you like her so much, why don’t you let her be your mother from now on?” “I don’t want you anymore.” Confused and scared, I cried and begged for her forgiveness. But she accidentally pushed me, causing me to hit my head on the table corner. Blood gushed out. In my dazed state, I heard my mother’s inner thoughts: [Let the chase begin. He’ll regret this.] [Those who betray true love deserve to suffer.] [That ungrateful father-daughter duo must be regretting it now.] She sounded smug and vindictive, without a trace of concern or love for me. But mom, if you truly love someone, how could you bear to see them hurt? “You like eating it so much? Then eat all you want!” When my mom suddenly grabbed an entire cake and threw it at my face, the noisy living room fell silent. Only her sharp voice lingered in the air. She wiped the cake off her fingers with a napkin, then shot Mrs. Wilson a look of disgust. “Aria Anderson, you really are your father’s daughter. The two of you have such similar tastes.” “Since you like her so much, why don’t you let her be your mother?” I looked at my mom, then at Mrs. Wilson’s weathered face. At an age when I hadn’t yet learned the word “absurd,” I suddenly grasped its meaning. It was all my fault and dad’s for always making mom misunderstand. That’s why she was so angry. “I’m sorry, mom. I was wrong.” I lowered my head in shame, hiding my reddening eyes. The cream felt sticky and uncomfortable on my skin. I didn’t dare to take a shower or change clothes, afraid that if I looked away for a moment, mom would really leave. But my apology didn’t soften mom’s expression. She coldly examined me, as if trying to find something on my face. “Then tell me, what exactly did you do wrong?” I nervously clutched the hem of my shirt, trying hard to recall what I had done to make mom angry. But I couldn’t think of anything. Singing the birthday song, blowing out candles, cutting the cake, eating the cake – these were all normal parts of celebrating a birthday. I hadn’t misbehaved or done anything out of line. I anxiously dug my nails into my palms, tears welling up in my eyes. Seeing me stammer without being able to say anything, mom’s face grew increasingly dark. Finally, her patience ran out. She violently flipped over the cake on the table. The gifts beside it crashed to the floor with a clatter. “You even like Mrs. Wilson’s cooking. Your dad must really be starving.” “When I cook, you two are so picky.” “But you can’t get enough of her cake, stuffing your face with it.” “Fine, Aria. Have it your way. I don’t want you anymore.” “From now on, you don’t have a mother.” Mrs. Wilson turned pale with fright, unable to understand how she, a 40-something housekeeper who diligently cooked and cleaned every day, had suddenly become the other woman in her employer’s marriage. I trembled in fear too, forgetting the cream still on me as I threw myself at mom’s legs and held on tight. “Mom, I was wrong. I’ll never eat cake again.” “Please don’t leave me.” My sobbing irritated mom, and the sweet cream made her even more unbearable. “My new dress!” She shoved me away forcefully, staring at the white cream stains on her dress as her chest heaved. “Go to Mrs. Wilson. I don’t want to be your mother anymore.” Mom pushed too hard. With cream all over the floor, I lost my balance and fell, hitting my forehead on the table corner. In an instant, liquid gushed from my head. Before losing consciousness, all I saw was red. I couldn’t tell if it was blood or mom’s red dress. “Mom, don’t go.” Don’t leave me.

When I woke up again, I was in the hospital. “Mom!” I frantically searched for mom’s figure, finally spotting her playing on her phone in the corner of the room. Mom was still here. My anxious heart finally calmed down. I stared at her without blinking, afraid she would suddenly disappear. The next moment, dad’s call came through. Mom clicked her tongue and irritably rejected the call. Soon dad called again. Mom rejected it again. This went on until the tenth call when mom finally answered impatiently. “Aaron Anderson, stop calling me. I told you, I won’t forgive you. This time, I’m definitely getting a divorce.” “Go live with all your mistresses.” “From now on, no one will cook for you or stay up late waiting for you to come home from work.” “Losing me is your loss.” The other end went eerily silent for a few seconds. Mom didn’t speak either. But I clearly heard her voice, as if coming from her heart. [Let the chase begin.] [Those who betray true love deserve to suffer.] [That ungrateful father-daughter duo must be regretting it now.] Her tone was triumphant and smug, without any concern or love for me. But mom, if you truly love someone, how could you bear to see them hurt? What chase? What betrayal? Was she talking about me and dad being ungrateful? I looked at mom in confusion, suddenly feeling a bit sad. I’m not ungrateful. I love mom very much. A feeling of inescapable exhaustion enveloped me. I couldn’t understand why things had turned out this way. Just because I was greedy and ate a few extra bites of Mrs. Wilson’s cake? Tears fell one by one onto the blanket, leaving damp spots. “Wendy, can’t we talk things through? Don’t take it out on Aria. She’s just a child,” dad’s voice sounded tired. “Besides, you have some nerve to talk. How can anyone eat the food you cook? You almost killed me!” Before he could finish, mom cut him off with a cold laugh. “A child? She knows plenty. She probably already knew Mrs. Wilson would become her stepmother, that’s why she’s sucking up to her.” “Too bad no stepmother will ever be good to her stepdaughter. I’m waiting to see you regret this.” The last sentence was directed at me. Mom turned to look at me. Her eyes held pure malice, as if she couldn’t wait to see me mistreated by Mrs. Wilson. “You’re being completely unreasonable,” dad’s voice turned cold too. He hung up with a click. [You’ll be begging me to come back one day.] Mom was angered by the “unreasonable” comment and started imagining scenes of dad pleading for her to return. It took her a while to calm down. She picked up her bag and left gracefully. “I’m not your mother anymore, so don’t expect me to take care of you.” “Just stay here and see if your precious Mrs. Wilson comes.” This time, I didn’t try to stop her. I hugged my knees tightly, struggling not to cry out loud. Mom, you said those who betray true love deserve to suffer. But if you truly love someone, how could you bear to see them hurt?

Mrs. Wilson didn’t come to the hospital to take care of me. She had resigned. Hardworking housekeepers with cooking skills are in demand everywhere. There was no need to stay with our family and risk her reputation. That day, I sat alone in the hospital from dawn to dusk without eating or drinking anything. My head remained dizzy and weak. In the end, a kind nurse couldn’t bear to see me like that. She brought me a meal from the hospital cafeteria and called my dad. After learning that mom had abandoned me at the hospital, dad rushed back from out of town overnight. When I saw him, the first thing I said was: “If mom never sees me again, will she regret it?” Sitting in the hospital room all day, looking at the tall buildings outside, a thought suddenly occurred to me. If I jumped from here, mom would lose me forever. When she sees my body, will she regret it? Will she cry and beg me not to leave her, just like I begged her on my birthday? “No,” dad replied firmly without hesitation. “Aria, people who truly love you won’t bear to see you hurt.” “Those who don’t love you won’t care if you’re in pain.” “Hurting yourself to make others feel regret or guilt is just a stupid form of emotional blackmail.” “You can’t gain real respect and love through such means. If you don’t believe me, we can make a bet.” Dad and mom soon got their divorce papers. Mom took the money and house, but not me. The house mom got was right next door to ours. When I missed her, I would wait by the door. If I was lucky, I might see her coming home or going out. But she never spoke to me or responded to any of my friendly gestures. Until one day, mom brought home a little boy. I heard mom call him Noah, Noah Summers. That was the first thing mom had said to me since the divorce. “Aria Anderson, this is my son Noah Summers.” “You’d better not bully him, or else…” She gave me a meaningful look, as if certain I would harm this little boy. A few days later, a handsome man moved in with mom. Mom liked to kiss him at the front door. A few times when dad came home early from work and ran into them, he frowned and wanted to talk to mom. “If you want to kiss, do it in your own home. Don’t always do it in the stairwell. It’s not good for the kids to see.” Mom was convinced he was jealous, and smirked smugly. “Where we kiss is our freedom. It’s none of your business.” “Or are you jealous that you can’t kiss me anymore?” Then she became even more excessive. She also liked to put on a show of mother-son affection with Noah at the door. “Sweetie, come here and let mommy tie your tie for you.” “Mommy baked this bread for you. Remember to eat it at school.” I stood at the door, looking at mom longingly, but didn’t get even a glance from her. After mom went back inside, I looked at the bread in Noah’s hand, hesitating. I wasn’t sure if I should stop him from eating it. To my surprise, Noah thought I wanted to steal his bread. He charged at me aggressively.

“You motherless bastard, get out of my way.” Noah was tall and sturdy, like a little bull. “Don’t even think about stealing my bread.” I could have dodged, but for some reason, I suddenly remembered the bet I made with dad and forcefully stopped myself from moving. A dull pain shot through my abdomen as Noah knocked me to the ground. My palms and knees were scraped and bleeding. “Mom,” I cried out, feeling wronged and bursting into tears. Seeing me cry so miserably, Noah finally got a bit scared and kept saying, “It’s not my fault. You fell on your own.” Perhaps the noise was too loud. Mom opened the door to check the situation. I sobbed and choked, using all my strength to cry, wanting to release all the grievances and insecurities I had bottled up. Tears streamed down my face. “Mom, Noah pushed me.” As I tattled on Noah, a flash of guilt crossed my mind. I’m a bad child. I’m sorry Noah, I just missed mom too much. But mom’s reaction left me stunned. She came over and stroked Noah’s head gently. “Did my baby get scared? Don’t worry, mommy’s here. I won’t let anyone bully you.” She had never spoken to me so tenderly. When her gaze turned to me, the concern in her eyes instantly turned to disgust. “Aria Anderson, I warned you not to bully Noah.” “No matter how much you act out, I won’t come back.” “I’ve told you already, I’m not your mother anymore. From now on, Noah is my only child.” Her tone was full of mockery, but her inner thoughts revealed excitement. [Regretting it now? Too late.] [I suffered so much for you two before. You deserve to taste some of that pain.] “Mom, aren’t you going to ask if I’m hurt?” Mom frowned, her expression a bit unnatural. “Why should I care if you’re hurt?” Oh, I see. Mom doesn’t love me, so she doesn’t care if I’m in pain. Dad won the bet. I wiped the tears from my face with my forearm and looked up at mom, speaking slowly and seriously. “Actually, I could have dodged Noah just now, but I didn’t.” “I did it on purpose because I wanted to see if you would feel guilty about me.” “What about you, mom? Was it on purpose too?” In that moment, I suddenly understood many things. Why I always felt guilty towards mom, why she suddenly wanted to leave us, why dad didn’t try to stop her. Mom angrily pulled Noah away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She clearly understood. My teacher once taught us a phrase – to be ashamed into anger.

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I have a superpower. When I kill someone, I can gain their memories from the past three years. Before the SAT Exams, I killed my overachiever boyfriend and got into college without a hitch. Content When did I first discover this about myself? I was nine years old when my parents got divorced. The court awarded custody to my mom. I loved my mom, but honestly, I loved my dad more. I often sneaked away to visit him just to spend time together. But one day, when I saw him, I caught him kissing a woman—Mallory Chase. My parents had shielded me from adult matters, so it was the first time I’d ever seen a man and a woman kiss. Her lips were bright red, like blood—so red they looked like they could devour someone. I was furious. Even at that young age, I understood. Dad had done something wrong, and that’s why they divorced. Dad was the bad guy. Brimming with anger, I stormed off to his car and tossed a handful of marbles onto the seat. They’d poke at Dad’s back, maybe make Mallory fall on her face. But instead, the marbles jammed the brakes. The car malfunctioned. Mallory ended up in a coma. Dad died instantly. The police checked the surveillance footage and saw me throwing marbles into the car. But I was just a nine-year-old kid. They are too young to know better and to be held legally responsible. And when I screamed and cried, inconsolable over losing my dad, everyone pitied me. No one blamed me. They just thought I was a poor child caught in tragedy. But as I cried, memories poured into my mind, memories that didn’t belong to me. I saw Mallory’s face through someone else’s eyes. That’s when I learned just how early Dad had started doing bad things. I saw arguments between him and Mom; he stole money from our home. I saw him wrapped around Mallory, their disgusting intimacy like two animals snarled together. I threw up. Mom and the police thought my body was overwhelmed by grief. Only I knew the truth: it wasn’t grief. It was hatred. Even at that young age, I saw them for what they were—two beasts twisted together.

Unexpectedly, my sadness quickly faded. What lingered was disgust. At the same time, I realized there was something different about me. As a little girl, I didn’t dare to say it. As I grew older, I didn’t want to say it. It wasn’t until I got older that I understood this ability. When I was in middle school, my neighbor, Lydia Prescott, and I were in the same class. We were very close friends. We went to and from school together and were inseparable—even when going to the restroom. Our teachers joked that we were “conjoined twins.” Lydia wasn’t the nicest person, but was beautiful—far prettier than I was. Sometimes, I overheard people say we were like “the princess and her sidekick.” It didn’t bother me much, but Lydia always looked smug when she heard it. I think that’s one of the reasons she stayed close to me. People don’t like being outshined by those closest to them. Lydia liked being the star. In some ways, it showed she thought of me as her confidant. I was so good to Lydia that she became a little dependent on me. Her grades were always better than mine—except in English. So, her English homework was often my responsibility. I wrote it neatly for her. As the English class representative during small tests, I helped the teacher grade papers in the office. E’d secretly change a few of Lydia’s answers and bump up her score. each time That was until the teacher found out. But Ms. Vivian Hale, our English teacher, didn’t scold me for altering the grades. Instead, she took it out on Lydia. Ms. Hale had always disliked Lydia—too pretty, too into makeup, and her English skills were lacking. Lydia was everything Ms. Hale frowned upon. “All you do is focus on nonsense instead of your studies!” “Girls like you will never amount to anything.” Lydia’s eyes turned red instantly. She slammed her desk and ran out of the classroom. Ms. Hale scoffed at first, but she grew nervous when Lydia didn’t return. After a while, she stopped teaching and told me to find Lydia. I knew where Lydia was. She was in the storage room next to the third-floor break room. Whenever Lydia was upset, she hid there. I opened the door quietly, slipped inside, and sat beside her. She didn’t look at me, and I didn’t look at her. I understood her. She didn’t want me to see her vulnerable. After a while, Lydia finally spoke. “I hate Ms. Hale.” “I hate Ms. Hale too,” I said, joining her indignation. She couldn’t help but laugh a little at my childishness. “Let’s go back,” she said. “Okay.” Our bond grew even more potent. But I had to admit, there’s a natural difference in aptitude for learning. I worked hard, but I just wasn’t good at school. Lydia and I spent the same time studying, but her grades steadily improved, even in English. Sometimes, she’d offer to tutor me, but it was useless. I just didn’t get it. My mom often compared me to Lydia. I didn’t want to disappoint her. She was all I had. As my grades stayed stagnant, I started to panic. A dark thought crept into my mind. What if I killed Lydia? If I killed Lydia, I’d have her last three years of middle school memories. Some ideas are impossible to shake once they’ve entered your head. I had a plan. The school had recently installed new air conditioning. The cooling system was robust. Some older students joked it was ironic the school added A/C right after they graduated. Lydia, being short, always sat in the front rows while I was stuck in the back. As summer approached and the A/C turned on, I often complained about the heat and wandered to Lydia’s desk during breaks. While chatting, I’d casually adjust the thermostat to its lowest setting—cold air blasting at 60°F. When the bell rang, I’d walk away. Sometimes, Lydia remembered to reset it. Sometimes she didn’t. She often sat through an entire class in freezing air. A few days ago, Lydia and I went shopping. I mentioned my mom asked me to stock up on cold medicine and asked if she wanted some. “Cold medicine? In the middle of summer?” she asked. “My mom said the A/C at school and home is too much of a temperature swing. She told me to keep some medicine handy.” Lydia hesitated, then nodded. “That makes sense.” She bought the same medicine I did. When I saw her sniffling and complaining about a headache, I knew my chance had come. After school, as usual, we walked home together. “Let’s stop by Greenfield Riverside Park,” I suggested. We often relaxed there. It wasn’t unusual. I led Lydia toward a spot near a convenience store’s surveillance cameras. “Open your bag,” I said. Inside her bag were two bottles of liquor—highproof. She pulled them out, surprised. “Ta-da! A surprise for you!” “We’re almost high schoolers. Don’t you want to try it?” I turned slightly, hiding my mouth with my hair. I knew Lydia. She was a rebel at heart, yearning to break the rules her strict parents imposed on her. Lydia grabbed one bottle and handed the other to me. I acted hesitant, almost scared. “Maybe we shouldn’t. What if your parents find out?” That only fueled her determination. “Don’t worry! Just one sip!” I pretended to waver until she practically shoved the bottle into my hand. We talked for a while. We discussed our latest tests, dreams for the future, how much we hated Ms. Hale and even the warm tones of the sunset. She apologized. She admitted she sometimes saw me as a sidekick. She said I was her best friend. Forever. I said, “Yes, forever.” As the evening wore on, I patted Lydia’s shoulder and said it was time to head home. I barely drank, only pretending to sip. Lydia, however, was tipsy, her movements unsteady. I’d already checked. Her mom was working late, and her dad was on the night shift. Lydia would be alone. “Goodbye, Lydia,” I said, smiling. “See you tomorrow.” “Oh, and don’t forget to take your cold medicine tonight. You’ve got a bit of a cold.” Lydia smiled back, her eyes glinting with the soft light of dusk. I calmly went home, ate dinner with my mom, finished my homework, and fell peacefully asleep. The following day, a sharp pain pierced my head. New memories flooded my mind. I knew I had succeeded.

Lydia Prescott was dead. Her mom found her collapsed in the living room when she got home that night. By the time they got her to the hospital, it was too late. The police investigated and concluded she had died from alcohol poisoning due to mixing antibiotics with liquor. In those days, before the internet became widespread, middle schoolers like us didn’t know much about these kinds of things. Except for me, who had three years of memories from my dad. Yes. The cold medicine Lydia and I bought together that day included antibiotics. It went so smoothly—almost too smoothly. I had thought of so many ways this could have gone wrong. Lydia might not have taken the medicine. She could’ve taken it but skipped the antibiotics. She could’ve felt sick and called for help in time. Her mom might have come home early and stopped her. But none of that happened. Could this smooth success mean that fate was on my side? As Lydia’s best friend and the last person to see her alive, I was called to the police station to give a statement. Since I was a minor, my mom accompanied me. I sat there looking scared while my mom comforted me. “It’s okay, sweetheart. The officer just wants to ask a few questions,” she said. “Yeah, don’t be scared,” the officer added kindly. “We just need to clear a few things up.” They didn’t think for a second that a little girl like me could have done anything. “According to the victim’s mother, she wasn’t in the habit of drinking, but you two were seen drinking that day. Why?” I glanced at my mom nervously. She patted my hand reassuringly, silently encouraging me to speak. “Lydia said she wanted to try it, just for fun. She suddenly pulled two bottles of liquor out of her bag,” I said, my voice trembling. “I didn’t want to drink, and I tried to talk her out of it, but…” My voice cracked, and tears streamed down my face. The officer nodded. The surveillance footage supported my story: Lydia had forced the bottle into my hands. After a few more harmless questions, they let me go. The case was ruled an unfortunate result of teenage rebellion and ignorance. At school, Lydia’s death became a cautionary tale. Meanwhile, I was busy organizing my thoughts. It felt like I’d struck gold. Lydia’s mind had been full of knowledge. My grades skyrocketed, much to my mom’s delight. And mine, too. When the SAT Exams came, I performed flawlessly and got into the best high school in the city, Ashwood High School. My mom even bought a house near the school district—a prominent place with a spacious bedroom and my study. During the summer, she enrolled me in a prep course for high school. When the new semester started, I wasn’t behind like some classmates. But I knew this wasn’t a permanent solution. I wasn’t naturally gifted in academics. Even with Lydia’s solid knowledge base, I’d fall behind again. Last time, luck had played too significant a role. This time, I needed a better plan for my high school years.

I set my sights on Caleb Summers. He was the top student in our grade and also my classmate. Caleb lived up to his name—bright and dazzling. With his clean-cut good looks and academic brilliance, he had a swarm of admirers. And then there was me: plain, ordinary. We seemed destined to remain in separate worlds. But I observed him and did some online digging. That’s how I found the obscure chat app Caleb used most frequently. The app was anonymous, with no notification system. I pored over every detail of Caleb’s activity. He was a lively, optimistic boy with a good family background. He had low blood sugar and always carried sweets. He loved classic literature and mystery novels. I changed my profile picture on the app to a delicate jasmine flower—Caleb’s favorite. But I didn’t add him directly. I couldn’t risk spooking him. Instead, I built my profile slowly. I shared posts regularly, shaping myself into someone with interests that aligned perfectly with his. Over time, my account gained a few followers. It no longer looked fake. One day, I sent out a cryptic message: “When Rachel killed Alex, what do you think she was thinking?” It referenced a plotline from The Madonna of the Sleepers, a classic novel Caleb had been reading in class. He hadn’t posted about it anywhere. At first, there was no response. But the next day, Caleb replied: “Protection and fear, I guess.” “How do you know I’m reading this?” “Fear? Do you think Rachel was afraid of Alex?” I ignored his second question. “I think Rachel was afraid of her memories,” I replied. Seeing I wasn’t revealing my identity, Caleb didn’t push further. We continued chatting about books, cautiously at first. Eventually, the exchanges grew longer, evolving from literature to films. One day, Caleb asked: “You’re interesting. How old are you? What city do you live in?” I didn’t reply. For days, I ignored all his messages. He flooded me with apologies, worried he’d offended me. About a week later, I finally wrote back: “If you want to know who I am, meet me tonight on the rooftop of Hawthorne Hall.”

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