Category: English

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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On the third day after my death, my family was still busy preparing Tessa Winslow’s Sweet Sixteen party. The police officer who found my body called my mother. She snapped in frustration, “Dead? So what if she’s dead! She was always lying, disappearing to make a scene. If she’s really dead this time, I still won’t pay for the funeral!” My soul hovered in the air as I watched her hang up, smiling broadly as she called Tessa to come cut the cake. Everyone gathered around Tessa, singing the birthday song. But today is my birthday too. On the fifth day after my death, my father reported me missing to the police. My mother and my brother, Derek, reluctantly joined him at the Westfield Police Department. “Ivy was always up to something,” my mother muttered, annoyed. “She used to torment Tessa, always lying and saying Tessa bullied her, hit her, tore her things apart. And every time we tried to talk to her, she’d throw a fit… This isn’t the first time she’s run away. She’s probably playing video games at some lowlife’s house.” Derek, who always resented me, scoffed and went back to playing on his phone after speaking. My mother’s attitude was no different. Even with her perfect makeup, she couldn’t hide her disdain for me. “Coming down to the station for that worthless girl? Just to make a spectacle of ourselves?” she said to my father, glancing impatiently at her watch. Tessa had a ballet recital tonight, and my mother had ordered flowers for the celebration. All this time, my father hadn’t said a word. To be fair, my father, Clay, was a remarkably handsome man, even in his middle age. Time had only added a calm gravity to his features. But right now, his brows were furrowed. I admit, a part of me eagerly anticipated how he’d react when he saw my body. “Are you Ivy’s family?” the officer asked. After confirming our identities, the officer led my family to the morgue to view my remains. Derek was the first to express his displeasure. “What’s Ivy pulling now?! This place is bad luck, I’m not going in!” “Ivy’s always had a wicked streak,” my mother whispered, casting a furtive glance at my father. “I don’t believe she’s really dead.” As I hovered there, I overheard the officer whispering to his colleague, “Are they really her family? They didn’t even come to see her one last time.” For the first time, I heard my father’s voice drop, heavy with anger. “Everyone, get in there!” My body was not a pleasant sight. After days submerged in Silver Creek, my skin had swollen and turned translucent, distorting me beyond recognition. Derek took one glance and stumbled to the wall, retching. The officer began to explain, “We found her in the creek five days ago. Initial findings suggest she accidentally fell in… Oh, and when she drowned, she tried calling someone. Didn’t she try to contact any of you?” He pulled out the evidence bag. The familiar number on my mother’s phone showed a call lasting a minute and a half. My mother screamed, “What call?! I never got any call! Ivy’s lying again, Ivy…” Her voice cut off when she saw my body. Something clicked inside her, and she began to tremble. “Tessa told me Ivy called asking for money…” Tessa, the fake daughter. That day, I had called my mother, hoping for help. Tessa answered the phone. I told her I was drowning. I begged her to come and save me. But on the other end, I heard her tell my mother, “Mom, Ivy’s asking for money again. She says if we don’t send it, she’s never coming back. She’ll cut ties with us.” My mother was furious. “Then let her die out there!”

Now I’m dead. They must be so relieved. “Ivy, I’m sorry, Ivy. I didn’t mean to… we thought you were just asking for money again…” My mother’s eyes were red as she shook uncontrollably, trying to reach out to hold me. My father pulled her aside, but she sobbed, saying she wanted to see me. He sneered. “When Ivy was alive, why didn’t you look at her then? Now you feel sorry? Too late!” It was the first time I had seen my father speak so harshly to my mother. She collapsed to the floor, burying her face in her hands and crying. Derek muttered angrily, “Dad, why are you yelling at Mom? Isn’t it good that Ivy’s dead? She came back and messed everything up. Now that she’s gone, we can finally be happy again. We can have peace…” Smack! My father’s hand struck Derek so hard he fell to the ground. “You look at her!” my father growled. “Ivy was your sister!” Derek landed right on top of me, face-to-face with my pale, bloated corpse. He tried to pull away, but my father pushed his head down. “She adored you when she was little! When you got into fights, she was terrified you’d get hurt and ran to protect you. She was only three years old then!” “When you fell off the table and wouldn’t take your medicine because it tasted bad, she saved up her candy from preschool to give to you! She was so hungry, but she only licked the wrappers!” Derek’s face twisted in shame. “That was so long ago…” My father’s voice shook with rage. “Derek Lennox! The day you took Ivy out and she went missing, you really think we didn’t know?” His chest heaved, emotions raging inside him, pushing him to the breaking point. “When Ivy came back, we asked her how she got lost, and she said it was her fault for being naughty! She didn’t say a word about you!” Derek’s lips trembled. “But… but you found out anyway! Ivy was never innocent. She was jealous that I cared about Tessa, so she didn’t say anything to you but still made sure you knew…” Smack! Another brutal slap knocked Derek to the side, leaving him spitting blood and teeth onto the floor. My mother wept even harder. “It wasn’t Ivy who told us. It was your father, Derek. He hired someone to find out.” When Tessa returned home later that night, the house felt off. Seeing my mother’s red, swollen eyes and Derek covered in blood, Tessa cautiously approached my father. “Dad, did you go looking for Ivy? I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you sooner—she’s been hanging out with some bad kids at school. They’d do anything for her.” She handed him her ballet trophy. “Didn’t everyone say they were coming to see me? But no one showed up. I got distracted, didn’t perform well, and only got silver.” My father’s gaze was cold. “Don’t you always get silver?” If I weren’t just a ghost, I’d be clapping. Tessa’s smile faltered, her lips trembling. “Are you angry because of Ivy? A few years ago, I did win a gold medal…” Derek caught her eye, signaling her desperately. She quickly wiped at her eyes. “Is Ivy still mad at me? I told you, I don’t care that she took my lucky bracelet. If she likes it, I’ll just buy another one for her. Dad, don’t be angry with Ivy. She grew up in a rough place. She’s got some bad habits, but she’ll change over time—oh, and I made dessert. We can all eat together as a family. Don’t let Ivy make you sick.” I floated after Tessa as she carefully plated store-bought pastries, proudly presenting them as her own creation. “I wanted to make something fancier, but I was missing some ingredients…” Tessa trailed off, glancing nervously at my father. “My wallet’s missing a lot of cash. I could’ve sworn I counted it before, but it seems like the only time someone touched it was the day Ivy left.” My father shot up from his chair. His sharp gaze pinned Tessa in place. She stammered, unsure of what to say. “Derek, tell her what your sister was doing that afternoon!” Derek shivered, his expression conflicted as he answered, “The police showed us the security footage. Ivy went out at noon, but she stayed at the convenience store near our house… She kept looking at her phone, probably waiting for one of us to call.” Angry that I was falsely accused of stealing Tessa’s bracelet, I stormed off to the convenience store. Even though I had been disappointed so many times, I still waited for someone from the Lennox family to come find me, to tell me they had made a mistake, apologize, and bring me home. So I kept staring at my pinned family chat on WhatsApp. But I waited from morning until night, and no one came. Tessa’s face went pale. She muttered, “The police? Ivy was arrested?” My father’s voice turned icy. “Ivy’s dead.”

Those four words hit like a thunderclap, shattering the fragile harmony that had held up the household. My mother clung to Tessa, her voice rising in protest. “Ivy’s death isn’t Tessa’s fault! Why are you treating her like this? Ivy was my daughter, but so is Tessa! We’ve raised her for over a decade! We only had one daughter, and now that Ivy’s gone, we can live like we used to, can’t we? Why do you have to keep stirring things up?” My father’s lips quivered as he stared at her. “You’re the one who stirred up all this trouble!” he shouted. “When we brought Ivy back, you told me that Tessa was our daughter too, and that we had to protect her feelings. You cared about Tessa. Derek cared about Tessa. Everyone cared about Tessa. But who cared about Ivy?!” “When Ivy came home, she had so little that she packed her things in one small bag. I told you to take her shopping for new clothes. But when Tessa started crying, you felt sorry for her and took her too. What was supposed to be a mother-daughter bonding moment turned into a show for Ivy to watch!” “The designer clothes we bought for Ivy ended up on Tessa! Don’t tell me you didn’t know!” “You keep saying Tessa is your heart and soul, but what about Ivy? She was our daughter! We spent years searching for her, and she suffered countless abuses while she was gone!” My mother gaped, tears spilling down her cheeks. For a moment, there was a flicker of guilt in her eyes. But it was faint, and she quickly dismissed it. “I wasn’t bad to Ivy… she just wouldn’t accept my love! She never considered my feelings. She was always stirring up trouble, trying to push Tessa out!” My father, drained of all hope, let out a deep sigh, slumping back as though the weight of the world had fallen on him. “You’re right,” he said bitterly. “The one who killed Ivy wasn’t Tessa. It was me. It was you. It was all of us, this so-called family.” He paused before continuing, “Margot, I want a divorce.” True to his word, he quickly set the divorce in motion, enlisting a lawyer to finalize the details. My mother, on the verge of hysteria, refused to accept it. “Ivy is already dead! I know I wasn’t good to her before, but I’ll make it up to her… I’ll give her the grandest funeral, the most expensive jewelry. I’ll invite all her friends and teachers!” It was the first time she had ever acknowledged my existence at school. She rushed out the door in simple clothes, for once wearing no makeup. As I floated above, I watched her step onto campus, hesitating as she entered. “Where’s Ivy’s class?” she asked. Derek, yawning mid-sentence, stopped cold. Mom had dragged him out of bed, and his irritation vanished as he uncertainly glanced in the direction of my old dorm. “Over there?” It wasn’t exactly wrong—that was my dorm. My old dorm.

The door to the dorm room swung wide open. Inside, Chelsea Kramer and her crew were lounging around, smoking. When my mother asked about me, Chelsea blew a puff of smoke right into her face. “Oh, look! Here comes the mother of the little trash. Guess trash runs in the family!” They burst into laughter. Derek stepped in front of my mother, but their taunts only grew louder. “A real mommy’s boy, huh? I thought Derek Lennox only cared about his fake sister!” They gestured towards the balcony with their chins. “All of that little brat’s stuff is out on the balcony. Go help yourself.” As my mother walked past them, she tripped on the doorway, losing a shoe. Laughter exploded from the room as Derek moved to help her, but she shook him off. On the floor, she picked up a photo. It was taken during my first few days in the dorm. Chelsea and her friends had pinned me down, stomping on my face while flashing peace signs for the camera. My mother’s hands were shaking as she held the picture, her voice trembling as well. “These are the clothes I bought for your sister. When she came home, they were covered in footprints. I asked her what happened, and she said nothing. But Derek… Derek, tell me, didn’t she get into a fight at school not long after?” Derek turned away, and the light in my mother’s eyes dimmed bit by bit. Her voice cracked. “Did I… did I wrongfully blame Ivy?” I watched quietly, emotionless, as she bent down to start gathering my belongings. I only had one set of school clothes. The pants were stained, showing wear. She dusted them off, seeing the patchwork I had done myself. Then something clicked in her memory. “Ivy told me her uniform was torn and asked for money to buy a new one. Derek, I asked you to give it to her—did you?” Chelsea and her friends roared with laughter. “Give her money? That little piece of trash went to beg, and her dear brother and that fake sister of hers said money doesn’t grow on trees. Told her to be frugal and not wasteful.” “Oh, lady, is Ivy really the daughter you spent all those years looking for? Because when we came to rough her up, your golden boy here saw it happen and said, ‘Serves her right.’” Derek’s face turned ashen. “Shut up!” “Shut up? Oh, come on, Derek! You had the guts to do it, but not to admit it? Let me tell you, we didn’t start bullying Ivy right away. It’s just that… when your dad doesn’t care, your mom doesn’t care, and your own brother’s so biased it’s ridiculous—how could we not knock her around a bit? Dunk her head in the toilet, make sure she knows she’s nothing but a pitiful little loser.” In a rage, Derek grabbed Chelsea by the hair. She shrieked and cursed, but before she could fight back, he grabbed a moldy sock from the floor and stuffed it in her mouth. Chelsea spat it out, her words growing more vicious. “The whole lot of you are pathetic! Pretending to be tough! Your sister fought back at first, y’know—pulled a knife on me. But in the end, we still outnumbered her, grabbed her by the neck, and made her kneel!” “You monsters!” My mother finally snapped, going completely wild. She attacked Chelsea and her friends like a madwoman, her long, perfectly manicured nails breaking as she struck them, blood welling up, but she didn’t care. She forced them to apologize, to confess everything they had done to me, recording every word. She was sobbing and screaming the whole time, like a woman who had completely lost control, unhinged and terrifying. Derek tried to pull her away, but she slapped him hard across the face. My mother was crying, and this time I truly felt the depths of her anguish. “Ivy, my Ivy… how much did you suffer back then?”

Chelsea and her gang were expelled. No school would accept them after the bullying scandal broke. Their families, who owned small businesses, couldn’t compare to the Lennox family’s influence. A single word from my father, and they were ruined. “Please, ma’am! I know I was wrong. I beg you and Mr. Lennox to have mercy on us!” Chelsea sobbed as she knelt on the rough pavement. When she got no response, she dragged one of her lackeys over. “It was her! She’s the one who made Ivy drink toilet water! I’m making her pay for it!” The best fertilizer in a field is manure, and Chelsea shoved her friend’s face right into the dirt. “It wasn’t me…” the lackey tried to protest, but her mouth filled with filth as Chelsea pressed her down harder, gloating. “Is this enough for you, ma’am?!” Chelsea shouted, her voice growing louder. “Do you think this is enough?!” As my mother, father, and Derek turned to leave, Chelsea, desperate, yanked the girl up again and pinned her to the ground. She climbed on top of her, pressing her foot against the girl’s face. “Look, ma’am! Look at how I’m humiliating her!” “Ma’am, should I strip her down and post the pictures online?” “Ma’am…” Chelsea was a natural-born bully, her tactics endless. My family hadn’t even responded yet, and she was already carrying out her sick plan. Tessa’s soft voice broke the silence. “Mom, maybe we should just let it go.” Seeing my mother’s steely gaze, Tessa swallowed hard and continued, “They’re Ivy’s classmates. Conflicts between students are normal. If they bullied her, Ivy must’ve done something to deserve it. Otherwise, why would they target her out of everyone?” “Hmph.” My father’s voice thundered through the air like a storm. “Margot, do you see? This is the girl you’ve doted on for over ten years—the girl you’ve coddled at the expense of your real daughter!”

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Under my mother’s strict discipline, I became the valedictorian and was accepted into Stanford University. On the day the results came out, everyone praised my mom for her successful parenting, saying she would enjoy a blissful retirement. The local news came to interview her, and she shared her parenting methods without a hint of humility. “Spare the rod, spoil the child, and that’s how you raise a successful one.” The whole city celebrated my achievement. But I left a note behind, and stood on the edge of the rooftop. “I’ve given you Stanford. In my next life, please let me go.” My mom, Vivian Whitmore, holds a PhD, and my dad, Gregory Whitmore, has a master’s degree. I could say “mom” and “dad” by seven months old, and by eight months, I could walk. Everyone praised me for being naturally gifted, saying that with the right upbringing, I was surely Ivy League material. My mom thought so too. She became obsessed with the idea, even going as far as renaming me Serena Whitmore, as if that would seal my future at Stanford. At three years old, despite barely being able to write, I would attend preschool during the day, and then at night, I was forced to memorize poetry until 10 p.m. Meanwhile, kids my age were running wild in the yard, playing without a care in the world. I was jealous, always peering longingly through the window at them. When my mom noticed, she had the curtains sealed shut, cutting me off completely from the outside world. She struck my palms with a rod, her face full of disdain. “Those kids are already falling behind. They’ll never amount to anything, and neither will you if you waste time like them.” Relatives pressured my mom to have a second child, saying her good genes shouldn’t go to waste. But she was resolute. “All my time and energy are for Serena. She’s destined for Stanford, and I can’t afford to be distracted.” Then, turning to me, she added, “I’ve sacrificed so much for you, betting everything on your future. You have to get in.” When I entered Willow Creek Elementary, my mom became even more extreme. Every night, I worked on extra assignments until midnight, never getting enough sleep. I would often doze off while solving problems, and she would stand behind me, whipping me with that thin rod. “Sleep, sleep, sleep. That’s all you do. You aren’t allowed to sleep until you’ve finished all these exercises.” With tears streaming down my face, I dared not defy her. As time went on, the bags under my eyes grew bigger than my eyes themselves. Relatives voiced their concerns, saying my mom was suffocating me and would drive me to an early grave. Infuriated, she accused them of being jealous of her genius daughter. They complained to my dad, Gregory, who was working out of town, but he could only tell them to stay out of it. Soon, the relatives stopped coming altogether, saying our family was full of lunatics. My mom, however, was satisfied with this outcome. She would stand over me, rod in hand, watching me work through endless stacks of practice tests. “Now that no one will bother you, let’s see how you try to slack off.” The pile of worksheets next to my desk grew taller than me, and I felt so, so tired. After I graduated from elementary school, I got into Redwood Middle School, the best in the city. In a new environment where no one knew me, I finally made my first friend. Her name was Delilah Brooks, and she was my seatmate. Delilah was outgoing and friendly. On our first day, she started chatting with me and even shared some of her favorite snacks. I was over the moon and saved the snacks in my backpack, too excited to eat them. After school, I rushed home to give the snacks to my mom and told her about my first friend. Without a word, she threw the snacks into the trash and berated me for being lazy and foolish. I hung my head, too scared to speak. Then she asked about Delilah’s grades. I answered truthfully, “She’s at the bottom of the class.” My mom’s face darkened, but she didn’t say anything. The next day at school, Delilah suddenly refused to speak to me, and she asked the teacher to change seats. Confused, I asked her why. Delilah shoved me and yelled, “Your mom called my house and said that losers like me aren’t worthy of being your friend—that I’d only drag you down!” The whole class started whispering. “Just because she has good grades, she thinks she’s better than everyone.” “Her mom’s crazy. Since when do bad grades mean you owe someone food?” I walked away in tears, too ashamed to say anything. When I got back to my seat, I noticed my desk and chair were gone. My homeroom teacher, Mr. Gideon Brooks, awkwardly explained, “Your mom insisted that you sit alone so no one will distract you.” I nodded, looking down. “I understand.” From that day on, no one dared to talk to me, terrified that even a single word would lead to a warning from my mom. I ate alone, sat alone, and walked home alone. And as always, I stayed up late doing practice tests until deep into the night. Every time I took a test, I ranked first in the grade. My mom beamed with pride, telling everyone that Serena Whitmore was a natural-born Stanford candidate. Was it talent? I touched the thick calluses on my hands, left by the countless practice tests I had done. When it came time for high school entrance exams, I ranked first in the city and broke all previous score records, earning a $5,000 scholarship from the city of Boston. My mom happily collected the money. Her colleagues called for advice on how to raise such a brilliant child. She proudly shared her methods, one call at a time. “I think it’s just talent. After all, both her father and I are Ivy League graduates. How could our kid turn out anything less?” “But if you don’t have talent, then you have to work hard. My Serena does at least ten practice tests every single day.” “And if you don’t have talent and you don’t work hard, well, that’s when the rod comes in. You can’t get a good kid without some discipline.” She even posted a video on social media. The caption: “Discipline raises geniuses.” The video showed her hitting me with a rod across my back when I got a question wrong. Her colleagues shared the post widely, and it unexpectedly made it to the front page of the Boston Post. The question on everyone’s mind: Does strict discipline raise obedient children, or rebels? My mom replied confidently in the comments: “Of course, it raises obedient children. Serena has never disobeyed me, not even once.” But soon, my actions would completely disprove her.

At Evergreen Prep Academy, the top high school in the state, it was filled with kids who were not only talented but also worked incredibly hard. I began to struggle, and on my first monthly exam, I completely bombed, falling to 30th in the grade. My mom refused to believe it and stormed into the school. She accused the teachers of messing up my test, demanding a reevaluation. “There’s no way my Serena could score this badly! She’s always been number one! You teachers are taking bribes to suppress her grades!” The teachers were upset, but what could they do? I was humiliated beyond words. I tugged at my mom’s sleeve, trying to get her to leave. But she slapped me across the face, her expression twisted in anger. “Serena Whitmore, you better pray the test was graded wrong, or you’ll regret it!” I backed into the corner, covering my face, while the teachers tried to calm her down, explaining that no matter the result, hitting me wasn’t the answer. But she wouldn’t listen, insisting on a regrade. Unable to stop her, the teachers had to call the principal. The principal had my test paper regraded right in front of her. The score was exactly the same. My mom’s face grew dark. She didn’t say a word, just yanked me out of school without even asking for permission. At home, locked in my room, I received the worst beating of my life. “Serena, is this how you repay me? You think just because I’m not there, you can slack off? With grades like these, how do you expect to get into Stanford?” I curled up in the corner, my eyes squeezed shut in pain. The wounds were on my back, so when I returned to school, no one could see them. At school, I was the talk of the town. Everyone whispered about how my mom had made a scene. But I was numb. This wasn’t the first time, after all. Teachers approached me, discreetly offering help. I shook my head and forced a smile. It’s no use. No one can help me… For the first time, I skipped class and wandered to the pond behind the school. The green lily pads were clustered thickly together, with brilliant blooms of lotus flowers rising up. I stared at them, a dangerous thought flashing through my mind. If I jumped in, no one would find me. It would be a complete, final death. Not even my body would be left for my mom. I bit my lip and slowly moved toward the railing. “Woof… woof…” Just as I swung one leg over the edge, a faint bark came from the bushes. I froze, slowly bringing my leg back. Maybe I should take one last look. Just one more. I’d never had a childhood—only study sessions that lasted late into the night. When I was seven, I gathered the courage to ask my mom if I could get a cat or a dog. She refused, stone-hearted. In her eyes, any distraction was a waste of time. It wasn’t that I loved animals; I just wanted to feel the presence of something living. Something to remind me that I was alive. I followed the sound and discovered a boy crouched in the bushes, feeding a stray puppy bits of jerky. I recognized him. Asher Hawthorne. He had scored second on the recent exam. His photo was on the school’s honor roll. When he noticed me, he handed me a piece of jerky with a gentle smile. “Want to feed it?” I bit my lip and silently took the jerky, offering it to the puppy. The puppy ate eagerly, occasionally licking my fingers. The sensation was so unfamiliar, almost electric. I was startled, but it made me smile for the first time in forever. After the jerky ran out, I still wasn’t ready to leave. “You’ve had enough for today,” Asher said softly, stroking the puppy’s fur. “Don’t be greedy.” His voice was gentle and calm, so much so that I felt compelled to ask quietly, “Do good students skip class too?” Asher chuckled and glanced at me. “Didn’t you skip class?” I pressed my lips together and looked down. That’s when I noticed the faint white scars running along the inside of his wrist. “You…” No wonder he wore long sleeves in the middle of summer. Startled, I looked up at him. He had caught my gaze and quickly tugged his sleeve back down, covering the scars. He resumed petting the puppy, his eyes cast downward. “Her name is Peanut. Cute, huh?” “She’s the last of her litter. Her mom was killed by some kids, so I come here every day to feed her.” As he spoke, I quietly sat down beside him. No one had ever shared anything personal with me before, so I listened intently. But suddenly, Asher fell silent. I glanced over at him, confused. “I saw you earlier,” he said quietly, “when you were thinking of ending it. I made Peanut bark on purpose. I was betting that you wouldn’t go through with it.” “I won that bet. You came down.” He looked at me, his pale face cracking a sad smile. “Because we’re the same.” I froze, utterly stunned. Maybe it was because I had finally met someone who understood me, but we bonded deeply from that moment on. Asher told me about his family and his genius twin brother. His brother had won a national science competition, skipped two grades in middle school, and had already been accepted into an Ivy League school. Asher had spent his life constantly being compared to his brother. Without the same high IQ, he had to work a hundred times harder, but still couldn’t measure up. I looked at him seriously. “But you’re already amazing.” Asher gave a bitter smile. “If only they thought the same thing.” By “they,” he meant his parents. I was at a loss for words, feeling like I had no right to comfort him. But Asher didn’t seem to mind. He scooped Peanut into her small bed and stood up. Before leaving, he invited me back. “Want to come feed her again tomorrow?” I nodded eagerly, feeling a strange sense of excitement. It was like we had found a secret world of our own. On the way back to class, my steps felt lighter, and even the air tasted sweeter. But the moment I stepped into the classroom, my smile faded completely. My mom was standing outside the classroom door, her icy gaze fixed on me. She stormed toward me, delivering a hard kick to my knee. I collapsed to the ground, forced to kneel before her. Looking down at me with a fierce glare, she slapped me across the face in front of the entire class.

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During my annual paid vacation, I was lounging in a private hot spring pool when a waiter brought me a small cake. I casually complimented him, “Your service is excellent. Do you offer this to all guests?” The waiter informed me that the sweet treats were only provided to female guests or couples staying at the hotel. The small fork in my hand slipped into the pool. My husband, Gregory, always brought me a similar triangular cake every time he returned from a business trip. My intuition told me he was having an affair, and that woman didn’t like sweets. My name is Zoe, and I’m a jewelry sales department manager. I’m well-versed in business acumen and have been successful in my own investments in recent years. My husband, Gregory, was my college classmate. He persistently pursued me for three years from freshman to junior year before I finally agreed to date him. He studied art and wasn’t well-off in any aspect. Even his job as a sales consultant was one I helped him secure. But what I liked about him was that he was not only handsome but also gentle and loyal. Now, however, I stared at the small cake in my hand, speechless for a long time. He would bring back such a triangular cake after every business trip, claiming it was a gift from the hotel. Since single male guests generally don’t receive such treatment, it’s highly likely that a woman was staying at the hotel with him. I’m frugal by nature and usually take high-speed trains directly to clients when discussing business, returning home the same day because I care about my family. Even when I stay at hotels, I choose ordinary ones. Gregory, on the other hand, uses the excuse of company reimbursement to stay at these luxurious homestays. When I shared my suspicions with my best friend Rachel, she first expressed surprise, then analyzed the situation for me: “That’s impossible, right? You two have been together since college, weathering storms for so many years, from school uniforms to wedding dresses. You should investigate thoroughly before jumping to conclusions.” I frowned and nodded. To be honest, I was also questioning whether I was being overly paranoid and making wild guesses. Regardless, I still needed to test Gregory. My best friend runs a nail salon and is quite clever with words. While I’m well-versed in business circles, I’m not as adept at understanding human nature, so I asked for her advice. Rachel pondered for a long time and sent me a message on SnapChat the next day with her plan. “Didn’t you say he often goes on business trips? The person he’s cheating with could very well be his colleague. We could try to catch him in the underground parking lot after work.” I agreed with her suggestion. Indeed, if they were staying at hotels together during business trips, it was likely a female colleague. So, on the day Gregory was to finish work, I deliberately called him to inform him that I would be shopping with my best friend that evening and wouldn’t be visiting him at work. “Alright, honey. I’ll go home and wait for you after work,” he replied. His tone was as affectionate as ever, the gentle voice almost making me think I was being overly suspicious. That evening, in the underground parking lot, my best friend and I sat in her car, waiting. Soon enough, Gregory came out of exit 2 as usual and headed to his parking spot. A young woman was with him, and their behavior seemed intimate. The woman, in particular, was clinging to his arm, pressing her ample bosom against him. My lips quivered slightly as I clenched my fists. Sure enough, he was having an affair with a young female subordinate. “Well, well. Has he forgotten that when he had no income at first, he ate and drank at your expense? Even this job was found by you. How dare he be unfaithful to you?” my best friend scoffed. Indeed, Gregory came from a poor background, while I was from a well-off family. We were originally from two different social classes. Our union naturally met with strong opposition from our parents. Back then, to date him, I made a bet with my parents, swearing that I would definitely be happy. But reality had slapped me hard in the face. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, my fingers aching, as I continued to watch the scene before me. However, unexpectedly, although the young girl kept pressing herself against him, he politely declined her advances and pushed her away as she was about to get into the car. He said, “I’m sorry, but I’m a married man. Please maintain a proper social distance from me in the future.” His voice wasn’t low. Especially in the empty underground parking lot, his words rang out clearly. Even I could hear them distinctly from inside the car. The young woman seemed to angrily stamp her foot before turning and leaving without looking back. My best friend breathed a sigh of relief and comforted me, saying, “See? He doesn’t seem to be cheating. That woman was probably just having a one-sided crush.” A one-sided crush… I didn’t believe it. Such a fair-skinned, beautiful long-legged beauty was exactly the type Gregory liked. When I returned home and was changing my shoes in the entryway, Gregory, who had come back early, gently hugged me from behind. “Happy anniversary, darling,” he said, hanging a diamond necklace around my neck. I was a bit surprised, as I’ve always been more fond of diamonds due to my years in the jewelry business. I shrugged off his hands, determined to confront him directly. So I said, “Who was that woman who almost got in the car with you?” Gregory seemed quite surprised but still explained calmly, “Oh, you mean Fiona? She’s the boss’s mistress. Even if I were willing, the boss would kill me if he found out.” Seeing my brow relax slightly, Gregory leaned in to embrace me and whispered in my ear, “In my heart, there’s only room for you, my dear wife.” Everything had been explained perfectly, leaving me speechless and with nothing more to ask. However, his embrace no longer held the familiar warmth I knew; it only made me feel a chilling coldness. The sweet and normal scene before me seemed too perfect. Was it really just me overthinking things?

My suspicions stemmed from my lack of confidence in our marriage. As a career-oriented woman with a DINK (Double Income No Kids) mindset, I didn’t want children. This led to opposition from Gregory’s family when we got married. My mother-in-law, Susan, came from China and had deep-rooted traditional beliefs about continuing the family line. Gregory was the only child in the Gu family, so naturally, they were unwilling to agree. “It’s not like you can’t have children. What’s wrong with giving me a grandson to take care of?” she would say. However, I stubbornly refused to change my mind. It seemed like this marriage was about to fall apart, teetering on the edge of collapse. But at this point, Gregory surprisingly went to the hospital and had a vasectomy for my sake, standing up to his mother. This shocked and moved me deeply. “Mom, look at the hospital results. I can’t have children now, so it doesn’t matter if I marry Zoe,” he told her. His mother was so angry her lips trembled, and she was about to perform her high blood pressure fainting act right there. In fact, I knew she didn’t actually have high blood pressure; it was always just an act to manipulate people. But since what’s done was done, she couldn’t say much more and could only watch helplessly as we happily entered into marriage. To date, we’ve been married for three years, adhering to our DINK lifestyle without children, living in our own little world. However, I could sense that my mother-in-law extremely disliked me and was always sharp-tongued and nitpicky at home, constantly finding fault with me. “A hen that doesn’t lay eggs, what use are you!” she would say. Due to my guilt towards Gregory, I had always been patient and filial towards my in-laws, never showing any disrespect. After a night’s sleep, I looked at my still-sleeping husband beside me in the morning and suddenly felt a pang of guilt. He treated me so well, almost perfectly. What more could I ask for? So when I got up to go to work, I was reinvigorated and felt refreshed. Back at the company, I received news that the new set of jewelry up for bidding was actually a rare royal collection piece! I was almost ecstatic. This was definitely going to be a big profit. I had some spare savings and wanted to seize this opportunity to invest, so I decisively requested to buy one of the bracelets. After negotiating the price with the company leaders, I bought one of the bracelets for $2.08 million. Upon returning home, to express my filial piety, I gifted this bracelet to my mother-in-law, Susan. However, she merely frowned: “Oh my, why give me this useless thing? It’s neither edible nor drinkable. You know, I’d only be happy if you gave me a chubby grandson!” I pursed my lips, about to mention the price of the bracelet, but the words got stuck in my throat, and I eventually swallowed them. At least I had shown my sincerity; it was up to her to appreciate it or not. To celebrate the first S-grade jewelry set of the year, I spontaneously invited my best friend out for dinner. This time, we went to a members-only restaurant with no menu; everything depended on the chef’s mood that day. Rachel seemed a bit nervous, perhaps because it was her first time in such a place. When I poured her some wine, she quickly refused: “I took some antibiotics earlier, so I can’t drink alcohol. I’ll just have some juice.” I nodded understandingly. Before all the dishes were served, more guests arrived, all seemingly well-mannered upper-class individuals. Rachel was visibly uncomfortable, mainly because her clothes were cheap market goods, making her feel out of place. “Oh my, I feel so embarrassed in these clothes. Let me go to the restroom and put on some jewelry. I won’t feel comfortable eating otherwise.” I nodded in agreement, watching her hurry off to the restroom with her bag. When she returned, she indeed had several pieces of jewelry on and had even carefully applied lipstick. I teased her, “My lady, you don’t need to put on lipstick just for a meal—” At that moment, as my gaze wandered, a jade bracelet on her wrist caught my attention. It was clearly the bracelet from my jewelry set. There were only two bracelets in that set: one bought by the boss, and one I bought and gave to my mother-in-law. “That bracelet of yours… is nice,” I frowned. Rachel casually waved her hand and said, “Oh, I can’t afford real jewelry. This was a gift from someone. It’s probably just a cheap imitation.” There’s no such thing as a perfect piece of jewelry. When I was examining the bracelet earlier, I had noticed a flaw on the inside. This was also the distinguishing feature between the bracelet I bought and the one the boss bought. Seeing my expression suddenly turn serious, my best friend’s demeanor gradually became flustered.

Perhaps it was inexplicable guilt that made her act this way. Halfway through the meal, my best friend received a phone call and hurriedly said she had an urgent matter to attend to before leaving. I maintained my composure and smiled, “Do you need me to give you a ride?” Rachel waved her hand, “No need, Zoe. Someone’s coming to pick me up.” Standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows on the high floor of the restaurant, I watched as she didn’t wait for anyone to pick her up as she had claimed, but quickly got into a taxi under the bright street lights. I felt confused, vaguely sensing that an even bigger conspiracy was waiting for me, so I quietly followed her in my Porsche Cayenne. Her destination was my company. It was the same place where I had sold the jewelry a couple of days ago, and also Gregory’s workplace. He should be working overtime at this hour. Rachel was very cautious. After arriving at the company building, she put on a black mask, looked around to make sure no one was watching, and then quickly entered the building. I narrowed my eyes and quietly got out of the car to follow her into the company. It was 9 PM, and the company corridors were pitch black. As I fumbled my way up, only one office had a dim light on – Gregory’s. I held my breath and quietly approached. Through the crack in the door, I witnessed a scene that almost made my eyes pop out of my head.

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I was born without a wolf, “You’re not alone anymore.” Mathew chimed in, “We’ll protect you. You’re family here.” I felt a flicker of hope. But then Ella returned, everything shattered when my mate, Alpha Mike, rejected me. “I can’t be with you,”. Banished and broken-hearted, I returned to my mother’s pack. I met Alpha Nicola. “You’re stronger than you know,” he said, as I felt my wolf awaken. With newfound power coursing through me, I uncovered the truth behind Ella’s betrayal. The night air bit into my skin as I looked up. “Alice.” Alpha Mike’s tone was clipped, cold, a blade meant to wound. “You’re weak. I cannot have weakness beside me. I, Alpha Mike, reject you.” My heart dropped. “You’re rejecting me? Just… just because I haven’t—” “Because you’re no wolf.” His eyes held no mercy. “You’re a liability.” Around us, whispers bega “Did she really think the Alpha would keep her?” “She’s a disgrace.” My father stood in the crowd, face blank, but I could see it—disappointment, etched like stone. I took a shaky breath, reaching out to her. “Mom… please—” He looked away, lips pressed tight. “Alice,” “you’ve made your bed. Now lie in it.” Tears pricked my eyes. He turned her back, his voice low. “Your new mate will be arranged by morning. Don’t make this harder.” “Moon Goddess, why? Why did you curse me like this?” I’m willing to go back and get married,” I murmured, almost too quietly to hear. “You—” My father began, half-hearted words of persuasion on his lips. “You… agreed?” “Yes, I agreed.” “That’s wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!” “I’ve been saying it all along—you should have agreed sooner! Alpha Nicola is a good match; he doesn’t mind that you haven’t shifted, and he respects you! And not to mention, his pack is only growing stronger…” I closed my eyes halfway, cutting him off with a weary sigh. “Dad, I’m tired.” I wasn’t sure how long I’d been lying there when footsteps sounded outside my door. The birthday girl, Ella, burst in, grinning ear to ear and balancing a slice of cake in her hand. She wore a sparkling gold crown, glinting like something out of a fairytale, giving her the air of a little princess. “Alice, come downstairs and join us!” she said, her voice dripping with cheer. I forced a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “I’m not feeling great. You all go ahead—enjoy yourselves.” Ella’s eyes filling with tears. “Alice… do you… not like me? Is that why… why you never come and celebrate with us?” Here we go again. Playing the innocent, fragile girl who’s somehow always a victim. And of course, all the guys just eat it up. “Drop the act, Ella,” “I’m not coming. Isn’t this what you wanted?” She strolled to the door, but instead of leaving, she turned back with a smug look. “Alice, Alpha Mike ’s going to announce me as his Luna. I guess a weak, wolf-less girl like you should be happy with her place… rotting in the shadows.” She lifted the slice of cake in her hand and hurled it toward me. Instinctively, I raised my arm to block it, but to my shock, she stumbled back, falling with a loud thud. “Ella, what are you trying to pull?” I hissed, my voice low and filled with disbelief. Though I managed to block it in time, the cake still splattered across me, leaving me standing there, humiliated and disheveled. My sister, Ella, lay sprawled on the floor, a faint smile playing on her lips. Then, as if on cue, her eyes welled up with tears, spilling down her cheeks, painting her face with the perfect picture of innocence and betrayal. And just like that, an enraged howl tore through the hallway. “Alice!”

Two men charged up the stairs, their footsteps echoing down the hall. One rushed to Ella’s side, helping her up as she lay on the floor, while the other placed himself between us, his gaze fixed on me with barely contained rage. “Alice, what were you thinking? How could you be so cruel?” Alpha Mike’s voice was low and seething as he pulled Ella into his arms, gently massaging her back. “Are you hurt, Ella? Tell me you’re okay.” Ella looked up at him, her face pale and trembling, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m fine, Alpha Mike. Don’t be mad at Alice… I’m sure she didn’t mean it.” She sniffled, tears shimmering in her eyes, her voice filled with feigned innocence. I scoffed, a cold smile tugging at my lips. “I didn’t do anything,”Mathew, who had been standing in front of them. “Alice, this is too far.” “I told you, it wasn’t me,” I said sharply, turning to leave. The sticky mess of cake smeared across me was as disgusting as the whole scene itself. But before I could step past them, Mathew blocked my path. “Apologize, Alice. Apologize to Ella,” “Apologize?” I asked, incredulous. “For what? I told you, it wasn’t me!” Ella’s soft voice cut in from behind him. “Please, Alpha Mike… don’t be angry with Alice. I’m sure she didn’t mean to… to push me.” She cast a quick, sidelong glance at me, a hint of triumph flickering behind her teary eyes. “Do you see this, Alice? Look at her—she’s willing to forgive you, even after what you did. She’s still defending you!” “Are you done?” I turned and walked back into my room, shutting the door firmly behind me. Outside, I heard Alpha Mike’s frustrated growl, followed by a hard thud as he punched the wall in anger. “Who does she think she is?” he spat. But when he looked down at Ella, the anger melting into something sickeningly tender. “Ella, don’t let this spoil your night. Let’s get you cleaned up, and I’ll take you somewhere special. It’s your birthday, after all. No tears, okay?” Ella nuzzled into his embrace, wiping her tears on his shirt as she flashed me one last victorious glance through the crack in the door. “I won’t cry anymore, Alpha Mike. Not if you’re with me.” Behind the locked door, I sank against the wall. Once, I was the one they took care of—the one they trusted unconditionally, the one they vowed to protect. Growing up in Flowerland, I was fragile, a child plagued by severe allergies and a weakened immune system. The fields of wildflowers that blanketed my home city were beautiful to most, but to me, they were a storm of allergens that would leave me breathless and feverish if I dared step outside without medicine. When I was six, a severe allergic reaction nearly took my life, and my parents, heartbroken but resolute, sent me to live in the colder, flowerless Rivermoon pack with my grandparents. The change in climate gave me a break from the constant risk, and it was there that I met two boys in the small, tight-knit pack that shared our neighborhood: Alpha Mike and Mathew. The three of us were inseparable. They would swear time and time again to be my protectors, promising to make me their “princess,” saying they’d care for me for the rest of my life. When my grandparents passed away a few years later, Mike and Mathew took turns bringing me meals, memorizing every single allergen that could hurt me. In time, they knew my weaknesses even better than I did. As I grew older, my mother began urging me to return to the main pack, convinced I was strong enough to handle it. But I stayed, lingering in the warmth and care of my two closest. I’d begun to feel the stirrings of something deeper between Mike and me, a pull stronger than any friendship—a mate bond. But when did everything begin to unravel?

Everything changed the moment Ella arrived. I was sixteen when my father’s betrayal was exposed, and I had no choice but to move with him to the Riverland Pack, where he’d begun his new life. My half-sister Ella arrived not long after with her mother, my new stepmother. Ella knew just when to lean in, tilt her head, and soften her voice, using her helplessness like a weapon to draw men toward her. Where I was proud and unyielding, Ella made weakness an art form, the kind that could make every male around her feel like they were her knight in shining armor. When she arrived, Alpha Mike and Mathew, the two people I’d thought would stand by me no matter what, looked out for her at first only out of obligation. She was, after all, my sister. But once Ella had gained a foothold, she turned everything into a game I never realized I was losing until it was too late. One evening, I discovered she’d added both of them on WhatsApp, claiming it was to help her manage my needs more easily. But what had been a thread connecting us quickly became a chain tying them to her. Soon, it was no longer our bond of three—but hers. It wasn’t long before I began noticing the whispers, the glances. My connection with Mike grew strained as Ella found ways to insert herself deeper into his world. She didn’t shift yet, but it didn’t matter—her human form was enough to pull him under her spell, leaving me out in the cold. And Mathew, who had once promised to protect me, was swept up in her orbit, too, laughing at her jokes, defending her. Mike had always been impulsive, drawn to extreme sports like a moth to a flame. I’d warned him countless times, but he’d just chuckle and say, “Oh come on, life is too short! Just let me do what I love!” Yet now, for Ella’s sake, he hadn’t touched any extreme sports in six months, all because of a single word from her. On the other hand, Mathew, usually calm and reserved, had taken a surprising turn as well. He never liked crowds and preferred quiet evenings alone. But now, he was the one who insisted on hosting a big birthday party for Ella at our family villa. Mike’s pov I’ve known since I turned sixteen that Alice is my mate, but it feels wrong. She doesn’t even have a wolf. “How can someone so weak become a Luna?” I thought bitterly. “Alice is beautiful, you know,” Mathew said, leaning against the wall with a smirk. “Yeah, beautiful enough to drive me crazy,” I snapped, running a hand through my hair. “All the guys in the pack want her—not as a mate, just for fun.” “It infuriates you, huh?” Mathew chuckled. “But she doesn’t even have a wolf.” “Exactly! When we turn twelve, we hear our wolves, but she’s never heard hers. They say she’s cursed,” I replied, frustration bubbling. “No one wants a cursed mate.” “So why not just go for Ella?” Mathew suggested, raising an eyebrow. “She’s easier to be with.” “Ella? Please. She’s not half as captivating as Alice,” I shot back. “But yeah, I’m with Ella. It’s simpler.” “Right, but you’re still pining after Alice,” Mathew pointed out. “You want her as your mistress, not your Luna.” “I can’t help it!” Alice’s pov My father’s choice for an arranged marriage must have been carefully selected, and honestly, that was fine by me. My phone buzzed. “Alice, why haven’t you liked my latest post?” Ella’s message popped up. She was in a lavish princess dress, flanked by Mathew and Alpha Mike. “Look at me, the perfect princess,” I muttered under my breath. I knew she posted it to annoy me. Normally, I might feel upset, but not today. I quickly tapped the like button. “There, happy now?” As for what the three of them thought? That was no longer my concern.

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The day Vanessa Carter’s first love, Marcus Delaney, returned to the States, I set fire to our Wedding Manor. Apart from the twins she bore me, I took nothing else. Years ago, when she was gravely ill and in desperate need of a kidney transplant, I unhesitatingly donated mine. But she always believed I schemed to marry her by any means necessary, ruining her relationship with Marcus. Now, I’ve given up and faked my death to leave. Yet when she learned of my supposed death, it shattered her. ### Chapter 1 Thanksgiving is a time for family reunions, and it also marks the twins’ birthday. After much pleading from Noah and Ava, Vanessa finally agreed to come home for the celebration. When she offhandedly mentioned she wanted homemade food, I pushed through the fever gnawing at me and made a table full of dishes. Now, the food sat cold, and the twins refused to leave the table, clutching their birthday cake, eyes wide and hopeful. Vanessa never came. Dizzy and with my head pounding, I forced down a handful of fever-reducing pills before heading out. I knew where she was. Whenever she felt unsettled, she sought solace in conversations with her closest friends. The courtyard of The Carter Estate was lit by soft garden lights, and I spotted Vanessa drinking and laughing with her friends. “Marcus is coming back, Vanessa. What about that man you married, Liam Westfield, and the twins? How do you plan to deal with them?” My hand froze mid-knock, suspended between decision and regret. Vanessa’s flawless features, caught between light and shadow, looked tense. “Divorce. He’ll take the kids. Marcus doesn’t need the complication.” Her response was cold and definitive, though I’d expected it. If it hadn’t been for her grandfather’s deathbed demand that she marry me, Marcus would never have disappeared overseas. Vanessa protested our wedding by vanishing herself. An unwelcome son-in-law and a bride who fled on her wedding day—overnight, I became the town’s laughingstock. We spent a year after that apart. Then, a reckless night led to the birth of our twins. The moment they were born, Vanessa rejected them, snapping at the nurse to take them away without so much as a glance. They were, after all, reminders of her betrayal of Marcus, her true love. When she agreed to come home for the twins’ birthday, I foolishly thought that the icy exterior might finally be thawing. Amid the silence, one of her friends spoke up. “Your husband’s been good to you, Vanessa. Even after his family’s downfall, he used his connections to secure resources for you. He hasn’t even fully recovered from his health issues and still drank with clients until he bled internally to help build your company.” That was quickly countered by another voice. “Please. Vanessa could have done just as well without him. If that spineless man hadn’t pushed his kidney on her out of some misguided sense of heroism, her grandfather wouldn’t have forced her into marrying him. She and Marcus lost years over it.” “A kept man acting like he’s still the elite heir he once was—she should’ve ditched him ages ago.” A sharp pain twisted in my chest as Vanessa’s cool voice cut through. “Enough about him. More drinks.” Another friend smirked and spoke in a teasing tone. “Liam was quite the catch back then. Since you’re not keeping him, why not share with the rest of us? Like hiring a model for a night?” Laughter followed. Vanessa said nothing, only tipping back her glass of champagne until it was empty. ### Chapter 2 My life has always felt like a series of wrong turns, veering wildly off course, always headed into a blizzard. I first met Vanessa at the Annual Philanthropy Gala hosted at my family’s estate. Back then, I was the heir of the powerful Westfield family, and Vanessa was just a small start-up owner who had tagged along on a friend’s invitation. Among the items up for auction were my own paintings. Wealthy attendees bid fiercely, eager for a chance to align themselves with my family. But only one young woman stood in the corner, captivated by the artwork itself. The painting was titled “Mother,” my most cherished piece. When I caught her teary-eyed gaze, Vanessa stepped back, her expression vulnerable. “Mr. Westfield, your work is beautiful, but I can’t afford it.” A spark fluttered in my chest and roared into a wildfire. I later learned that Vanessa’s parents had died young, leaving her to be raised by her grandfather. That painting struck a chord with her, so I gifted it to her, beginning a six-year infatuation. Despite her aloofness, Vanessa never outright refused me, letting my hopes linger. I believed I could win her over with sincerity. I connected her with top industry opportunities, watching her company thrive. But when my family collapsed, I was the sole survivor, left only with my living body. Ignoring Aunt Helen’s desperate pleas, I donated my kidney to Vanessa. The complications nearly cost me my life, forcing me to abandon my art. Mr. Carter, aware of how indebted their family was to me, coerced Vanessa into marrying me as his final wish. She couldn’t refuse, but only on the condition that I marry into her family. I discovered after our marriage that the husband she longed for was always Marcus. Her heart’s only allegiance was to him. That Thanksgiving, Vanessa returned home drunk for the first time. I only meant to help her to bed, but she pulled me close, her grip tightening like a serpent. “Kiss me,” she whispered. In that moment of weakness, I made a mistake. When dawn broke, she slapped me, eyes wet with rage. “Was marrying me not enough for you? You had to stoop to this? Pathetic.” From the start, it had always been wrong. I should have left then. ### Chapter 3 I dragged myself back to The Carter Estate, the prison that bound me and Vanessa together. The twins were awake, clinging to my legs. “Dad, did Mom come back?” They dashed to the front door, their faces falling when they saw it was empty. Noah’s cheeks flushed as he burst into tears. “Does Mom not want us anymore?” My heart clenched in unbearable pain as I knelt to hold them. “Dad wants you. Would you come with me?” I couldn’t tell them that their mother didn’t want them, that we were obstacles to her happiness. Ava, wise beyond her years, patted my shoulder. “Don’t be sad, Dad. Wherever you go, we go.” Once I finally got them to sleep, I stumbled into the bathroom and let the cold water wash over my face, masking the relentless tears. The sound of the water drowned out my sobs, preserving the last shred of my dignity. They had never known a moment of joy as my children. Vanessa had tried to terminate the pregnancy repeatedly until the doctor warned that it would render her infertile. She relented only because she wanted to have Marcus’s child one day. When the twins were born, she turned away in disgust, demanding the nurse take them away. I played the roles of both father and mother, raising them alone. In public, she denied their existence. When they called her “Mom,” they were met with reprimands. They were her children, yet she treated them worse than strangers. Each time they asked when she would return, I conjured up another flimsy excuse until even they lost faith and said, “Dad, you’re always lying.” Leaving would be our salvation. That night, as if remembering a forgotten promise, Vanessa returned. I was packing when her voice, cool and laced with alcohol, cut through the silence. “What are you doing?” I turned to face her, trying to keep my tone neutral. “Couldn’t sleep. Just tidying up.” The alcohol lingered on the air, and the chill from the open window sent a shiver down my feverish body. Suddenly, she leaned in, her voice soft, almost pleading. “Stay with me, Marcus.” She was so drunk she mistook me for him. Before I could react, she pressed her lips to mine, her taste sweet with the tang of champagne. Her hands fumbled at my shirt buttons with an urgency that betrayed her restraint. I recalled her friend’s derisive words echoing in my ears. “Like hiring a male model for a night.” ### Chapter 4 Humiliation and pain crashed over me like a tidal wave. Unable to hold back, I pushed her away. “If you wanted Marcus, you should have never agreed to marry me. Why put us both through this torment and resentment?” “I’m still a man, and no amount of love can take away my dignity.” Vanessa’s eyes cleared, now tinged with anger and something unreadable. I ignored her and resumed packing. She grabbed my wrist, her touch faltering when she felt my skin burning. “You’re running a fever? What kind of man are you, unable to even care for yourself?” When she tried to check my temperature, I recoiled. A click of her tongue, exasperated. “So you went looking for me. What did you hear?” It didn’t matter anymore. Everything came pouring out. “You think Marcus left the country because you married me? He left because he was afraid you’d make him donate his kidney!” “How dare you speak of him that way!” Vanessa grabbed a glass from the table and hurled it at me. I didn’t flinch, letting it shatter against my forehead. Shards fell to the floor, mingling with my blood. To her, I was like that glass—a vessel for her fury, disposable when shattered. Blood blurred my vision, but I thought I saw her hesitate, reaching out before pulling back, expression as cold as ever. “You wanted me home, and now I am. That’s all there is to it.” Her heels clicked as she walked away, fading into the night along with whatever remained of my heart. The next morning, after she sobered up, Vanessa sent her assistant to deliver birthday gifts for the twins. The packages sat untouched by the door. Noah scowled. “It’s not even my birthday anymore. What’s the point?” Ava, indignant, chimed in. “We used to want Mom to come home so she could be with Dad. But now, if Dad doesn’t want her, neither do we.” They were so young yet so careful, burdened with a maturity that broke my heart. “Dad, where will we go?” Ava’s tiny voice asked as I stroked her head. “To Grandma Eileen’s old home in Vermont,” I replied. The once-grand Westfield Estate had been sold long ago. The only place left was my grandmother’s house in the rural town. My mother had often begged Grandma Eileen to move to the city, but she always refused, too attached to her home. So we would spend our summers there, surrounded by the chirping of birds and the gentle murmur of a nearby stream. “There are no amusement parks or skyscrapers, but there’s the sound of birds and a little brook.” The twins wrapped their small arms around me, silencing the rest of my words. “With you, Dad, anywhere is perfect.” ### Chapter 5 Lately, Vanessa and I have both been busy. She’s been preparing for Marcus Delaney’s return, while I’ve been making plans to take the twins and leave. Vanessa was always the one in control, so if I wanted to leave, I had to prepare carefully. Even though Noah and Ava said they didn’t need their mother, the night before we were set to leave, I found them staring longingly at a photo of Vanessa. After hesitating, I dialed her number. When she answered, her voice was as cold and impatient as always. “What is it?” “The kids want to see you one last time. Will you come home?” Would she come back for a final goodbye? “Vanessa, if you’re too busy, I’ll head back overseas. I guess I wasn’t that important after all.” Marcus’s voice interrupted from the background. “Vanessa, if you’re busy, I’ll just head back. Seems like I’m not that important.” Vanessa’s tone shifted to reassurance. “You are important. He’s nothing.” The call ended abruptly. Even a final farewell was too much to ask when fate had run its course. The painting I gave her still hung by the bed, a reminder of the day she’d shed a single tear over it. I struck a match and set it aflame. The fire raced over the room’s flammable surfaces, spreading until it devoured the entire Wedding Manor. Our marriage, which began with that painting, ended with it. The flames roared behind me as I led the twins out, not looking back. Vanessa, I’m giving you the freedom you always wanted. The fire was fierce enough to turn anything, even memories, to ash. I took Noah and Ava to Grandma Eileen’s old home in the quiet tourist town where travelers often passed by. Since her passing, the house remained untouched, layered in dust. Wiping it away, I could almost see her smile, holding a watermelon in her lap, urging me to eat with a grin that deepened the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. I tried to live like Grandma Eileen did, with a peaceful simplicity, teaching the twins how to pull weeds and make the yard our own. I planned to turn this place into a small DIY craft shop, selling handmade items to the town’s visitors. The news reported a fire at The Carter Estate, with Vanessa Carter’s husband and their twins suspected dead in the blaze. As the flames swallowed the mansion whole, Vanessa was at The Magnolia Grand Hotel with Marcus. Marcus, back from abroad and not fully prepared, grinned slyly as he announced a run to the pharmacy for their night’s supplies. Vanessa knew exactly what he meant. ### Chapter 6 After Marcus left, Vanessa pressed her hand to her chest, testing her heartbeat. Oddly, there was no thrill, no rush. Her pulse was calm and steady. When Marcus returned and tried to pull her into a kiss, she instinctively pushed him away. “Sorry, something came up at work. I have to go.” She left quickly, not fully understanding why she felt that way. The truth was, on that night with Liam Westfield, she hadn’t been drunk enough to mistake him for Marcus. The alcohol had only dulled her inhibitions, making her crave his presence, wanting to be so close they were indistinguishable. The regret the next morning drove her to put the blame on him, knowing he would accept it as he always did. When Vanessa first heard about the fire, she was stunned. A flicker of remorse crept in, unbidden. She wondered if this might not have happened if she’d gone home that night. But she brushed the thought aside, convinced it was just another of Liam’s desperate ploys. The man had always been pitiful, willing to do anything to win her back. “What trick is he trying to pull now?” she muttered with disdain. Her doubts shattered when her assistant brought in items recovered from the scene. One was a charred wedding band—Liam’s. He treated it as sacred and never took it off. The other items were two half-burned gifts, the ones she had sent for the twins’ birthdays. Unopened, now ruined by flames. “The fire started in the bedroom, and it looks like he set it himself. The door was locked from the inside; no one could have escaped.” Vanessa’s legs wobbled. “You’re saying he chose not to escape, that he stayed inside with the children to die in our home?”

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