Category: English

For the sake of stealing my fiancé, the two-faced snake deliberately poured red wine on my engagement gown at the party. Everyone pitied me for having my engagement ruined and my fiancé stolen, but all I cared about was: between the snake and the scumbag, who would reimburse me for the million-dollar dress? “Yvonne didn’t mean it, just forgive her this once.” I laughed bitterly at those all too familiar words. Gideon “Yvonne didn’t intend for this to happen, can’t you forgive her?” “Yvonne grew up without a father, can’t you be more understanding?” “Yvonne isn’t as strong as you, can’t you put up with it?” I looked around the grand ballroom of the Gaia Hotel. It was filled with high society elites, all dressed in formal attire, silently watching the drama unfold like spectators at a show. I remained quiet. To those around me, it seemed like the calm before the storm. They were eagerly anticipating the next act in this spectacle. “She’s already apologized. What more do you want?” Gideon warned me to back down. Both our families were prominent figures. He didn’t want to make a scene, so he expected me to swallow my pride and let it go. Even though it was my engagement party. I looked down at my evening gown. It was a custom design by Jessica, an up-and-coming Italian designer. A one-of-a-kind piece worth over $100,000. I grabbed a bottle of red wine from a nearby waiter’s tray and walked over to Yvonne. Without hesitation, I poured it over her head. “Ah!” Yvonne instinctively stepped back and fell to the ground. Gideon grabbed my hand roughly. “Hazel, don’t go too far.” “Too far?” I scoffed. “It’s just a dress. I’ll reimburse you for it.” “$100,000.” “I’ll have my assistant transfer it to you later.” I coldly pulled my hand away from Gideon and dabbed at it with a napkin. “Hah, and who exactly are you to her? Why are you so eager to pay $100,000 on her behalf?” Yvonne looked up with big teary eyes. “Miss Newman, please don’t misunderstand. We’re just friends.” Yvonne was the daughter of Gideon’s family’s housekeeper, and he saw her as a little sister he needed to protect. “Would Miss Young pay $100,000 for a friend?” “I…” “Hazel dear, don’t be angry. Someone take Yvonne to get cleaned up. This is embarrassing.” I turned to see Mr. Carter Sr. had stepped in. He was dressed in an impeccable suit, with his graying hair neatly slicked back – every inch the powerful businessman. I responded politely, “No need, Mr. Carter. I’ll resolve this issue myself.” Gideon felt a sense of unease. “What are you planning to do?” I quickly gave him his answer. I walked up to the stage and addressed the guests: “Thank you all for coming to my engagement party. As you’ve just witnessed, my supposed fiancé seems to have forgotten who the leading lady is tonight. He’s become the knight in shining armor for another damsel in distress, turning my engagement into his heroic stage. Well, this villainess is ready to exit stage left and let the knight and his Cinderella have their fairytale ending. I, Hazel Newman, hereby announce the termination of our engagement. I hope you all enjoy the rest of the party.” As soon as I stepped off the stage, a man rushed up and slapped me hard across the face. “Have you lost your mind? Apologize to everyone right now.” I turned to see it was my father. I gingerly touched my stinging cheek, which was already starting to swell. If my father wanted Gideon and I to work things out, he would have gone on stage himself to smooth things over. But by slapping me, he was making it clear where he stood. He had punished his daughter in front of everyone, considering the matter settled. I straightened up and smiled coolly, as if I hadn’t just been struck. “Waiter, open another 100 bottles of champagne. Let’s celebrate my return to singlehood.” Gideon realized my stubborn nature meant the more he pushed, the more I’d resist. My father’s slap had only pushed me further away. He felt the situation spiraling out of control, but still desperately grasped at straws. “You’ve gone mad. An engagement involves both families, you can’t just end it on your own.” “Oh? So should I wait until after we’re married and then hire a private investigator to catch you cheating?” “How can you say such nasty things?” “If you can do it, why can’t I say it?” Mr. Carter Sr. dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief. “Hazel dear, I admit my son was in the wrong here. I apologize on his behalf. But marriage isn’t a game. Both families have already agreed to this union.” “Mr. Carter, I see things very clearly. Once unfaithful, never trusted again. Today he humiliated me at our engagement party for Yvonne’s sake. Tomorrow he might stab me in the back for her. Marriage is about finding a partner for mutual support, not someone who causes you grief. Am I not happy enough on my own?” “Hazel and I are just like siblings. Don’t twist things,” Gideon protested. “Miss Newman, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean for this to happen. Please forgive me?” Yvonne pleaded. Mr. Carter Sr. slapped Yvonne. “You didn’t mean it? Then why did you insist on working at this hotel and just happen to spill wine on my future daughter-in-law’s dress?” “Dad, what are you doing? Yvonne is innocent in this,” Gideon defended her. A flash of malice crossed Yvonne’s eyes before she quickly hid it behind a pitiful expression. “I really didn’t do it on purpose. I don’t know how this happened.” Mrs. Carter was the only one who remained silent throughout the whole ordeal. She stood off to the side with her arms crossed, as if she had anticipated this outcome and had no intention of intervening. It made sense. She wasn’t Gideon’s birth mother after all, so she likely didn’t care as much as she would for her own son. My mother came over and linked her arm with mine affectionately. “Well, we feel the same way about this situation.” My mother’s calm but firm tone made it clear she was addressing the Carters: “Let’s go, sweetie. Without him, Mom will find you an even better match.” Some of my friends who had been invited started to gather around me, trying to lighten the mood. “Single again! Time to party!” “Haha, now you can’t use dates as an excuse to skip our hangouts anymore.” “That’s right, you better make it up to us for all the times you bailed. You’re buying drinks tonight!” “Alright, alright. I’ll treat you all. You pick the place.” I felt a warmth in my chest. I knew my friends were trying to help me save face and distract from the awkward situation. Gideon watched me from afar, his expression unreadable. Yvonne stood there with tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to…” Gideon looked at her trembling form. In the past, he would have felt protective and sympathetic. But now, he just felt utterly exhausted. After dinner, our group headed to an upscale club we frequented. I was playing cards with some friends while otherCaspians were belting out karaoke tunes in the next room. “Mind if I join?” a familiar voice asked. I was so startled I dropped my cards. “Caspian? What are you doing here?” “Not happy to see me?” “No no, of course you’re welcome.” Caspian Shaw sat down casually, as if we had never grown distant. One of my more outspoken friends piped up, “Shaw, I’ve invited you to hang out so many times and you always declined. But you show up just for Hazel? I’m hurt.” I cleared my throat. “He was probably in the area. Don’t read too much into it.” “It wasn’t on the way. I came specifically to see you,” Caspian stated matter-of-factly. My friends exchanged knowing glances, clearly jumping to conclusions. What exactly do you all think you understand? The party finally wound down around 3 AM. Caspian had left much earlier, which was a relief. I wasn’t sure how to interact with him after so long. When had Caspian and I grown apart? It was probably during our junior year of college when he went to study abroad. The same year Gideon and I got together. Caspian had asked me then: “Are you sure you want to be with him?” I had replied confidently: “Of course.” “You’ll regret it,” he had warned before walking away. I knew he had feelings for me. But to preserve our friendship, I had always pretended not to notice. Looking back, I suppose I was rather cruel. He had foresight to realize Gideon and I weren’t compatible. Gideon may have seemed like the perfect gentleman on the surface, but deep down he was still that small-town boy at his core. He was always insecure that I looked down on him. Over the years, my patience in catering to his ego had worn thin. When I arrived home, I was surprised to see an unexpected visitor waiting outside my door. Gideon stood there looking haggard, as if he had been waiting for hours. I ignored him and moved to unlock my door. Gideon tried to push his way in, gripping the doorframe tightly. His eyes were red as he pleaded, “Hazel, you know Yvonne and I are just friends.” I put my keys in my purse and gave him a cold look. “And?” “So you shouldn’t end things between us over her.” Seeing my frown, he quickly added, “I really don’t have feelings for her. Come back to me. I ordered a $500,000 dress from Jessica for you – you’ll love it. Next month – the 25th next month is an auspicious date. We can-” He spoke rapidly, afraid I would refuse. I took a deep breath and cut him off. “Do you think we’re over because of the dress? Or because of Yvonne?” He pondered my words, clearly not grasping my point. After a moment, his eyes widened as he jumped to the wrong conclusion. He gripped my shoulders tightly, his voice shaking. “Have you fallen for someone else? Who is it?” I deflated. This idiot truly couldn’t understand. “We’re over because you never know when to draw the line. How many times have we fought over Yvonne? I’ve lost count. Each time you expect me to be the one to compromise. Why should I? I’m tired of hearing how pitiful she is – that doesn’t give her the right to disrespect me. You always choose her over me, like at the engagement party when you humiliated me in front of everyone. Do you know how I felt in that moment? I wished I had never met you.” “Hazel, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you however you want. Just tell me what you need.” “I need you to disappear from my life.” Gideon’s eyes darkened. “That’s the one thing I can’t do.” I was done talking. I tried to close the door, but Gideon desperately held it open, as if getting inside meant I would forgive him. I stared him down and pulled out my phone to make a call. “Hello, security? I pay a fortune in fees every month. Is it so you can let trash wander in?” Gideon’s face fell. He clearly hadn’t expected me to go this far. I lived in the most exclusive apartment complex in the city. The fees were exorbitant, but the service was impeccable. Within 5 minutes, security was at my door. The guard sized up Gideon, looking amused. He likely recognized Gideon from local business news. The complex provided top-tier service, with approved visitor lists for each resident. He probably assumed we were just having a lover’s quarrel. But the residents’ wishes were his priority, even if he didn’t understand. He bowed apologetically to me. “I’m sorry, Miss Newman. We’ll take care of this.” The guard gestured for Gideon to leave. Gideon walked away, utterly humiliated. Gideon likely wouldn’t bother me again anytime soon. His pride had taken quite a blow – probably the worst public embarrassment he’d ever faced aside from the engagement party fiasco. The next day, all the major newspapers were plastered with sensational headlines about the Carter-Newman engagement party drama: “BREAKING: Newman Heiress Publicly Breaks Engagement, Slapped by Father” “HERO’S RESCUE: Carter Heir Defends New Flame Against Fiancée” “FASHION SCOOP: Inside the Heiress’s Million-Dollar Wedding Gown” The public always loved a juicy scandal, especially a real-life drama involving wealthy families. The explosive end to the engagement of two prominent families quickly became the top trending topic. “The Rise of the Carter & Newman Empires: How They Built Their Fortunes” “SHOCK! A Real Cinderella Story” “The True Purpose Behind Elite Arranged Marriages” “SCANDALOUS! Heiress Dumps Wine on Rival at Party” I silently reviewed the report my assistant had compiled on the media coverage. My first order of business upon arriving at the office was to fire Yvonne. I clicked on the “SCANDALOUS” trending topic, which included video footage of me pouring wine on Yvonne. The person filming had an perfect angle, zoomed right in on Yvonne’s face. As the red wine streamed down her head, she stared with wide, bewildered eyes, swaying as if she might faint. She looked like a delicate flower caught in a storm – utterly pitiful. A beautiful woman in distress always tugs at heartstrings. Sure enough, Yvonne’s vulnerable display had earned her plenty of sympathy. “How cruel! Just because she’s rich doesn’t mean she can treat people like trash.” “Serves her right. No wonder no man wants her – who’d dare marry such a vicious shrew?” “The poor girl is so pretty. Even as a woman, my heart aches for her.” I scoffed and exited the trending page, ready to start my workday. “How dare you fire me? This is clearly personal retaliation.” I looked up to see Yvonne storming into my office, fuming. My company had a division related to art and design, mainly focused on animation projects. As Gideon’s company didn’t have a similar department, he had gotten Yvonne a job with me, naively thinking working together would improve our relationship. “You lost us a client, botched two deals, and consistently ranked last in performance reviews. Isn’t firing you the logical choice?” “You’re clearly taking out your anger on me. Don’t think you’re so great just because you’re rich!” “Yes, I earned my wealth through my own abilities and I’m proud of it.” Yvonne was clearly taken aback by my blunt response. After a moment, she straightened her shoulders and declared defiantly: “You’ll regret this.” I rested my chin on my hand, scrutinizing Yvonne. In her anger, with that stubborn, rebellious look in her eyes, she resembled those plucky heroines from teen dramas. If I were a man, I might have fallen for her act. But I was a woman, and a capitalist at that. “The only thing I regret is hiring you in the first place. I’m a businesswoman, not a charity. Now leave before I have security escort you out.” Yvonne left, but trouble soon followed. That afternoon, I was having coffee in the lobby cafe when Gideon came storming in to confront me. “Why did you fire Yvonne?” If we didn’t still have business ties, I would have cut him out of my life completely by now. Unfortunately, even if the marriage was off, I still had to make money. My mind wasn’t so clouded that I’d forget men were less important than wealth. “Your company has so many positions. Couldn’t you have found a place for her?”

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On my 18th birthday, my phone suddenly had a few extra messages. The sender claimed to be me—from ten years in the future. “This isn’t a prank.” “Go to the Computer Science Department and find William Walker.” “He might seem withdrawn and cold right now, but in the years to come, he’ll be the one who loves you the most in this world.” “Save him. Promise me you won’t let him die for you this time.” My name is Violet Brooks, a freshman at Westwood University, and I just turned eighteen last week. This birthday was definitely the strangest I’ve ever had. My dad gave me a new phone that day. After a shower that night, I laid on my bed, switched the SIM card to my new phone, and started downloading my usual apps. Just as I was moving things over, a notification flashed on my screen with a new message. I glanced at it, and it simply read: “Go to the Computer Science Department and find William Walker.” I’d never heard of anyone named William Walker. It had to be a mistake, right? Ignoring it, I continued my app downloads until another message popped up: “Hurry, you have to find him before Christmas, or it’ll be too late!” This time, the sender’s tone was so intense that I felt compelled to respond, so I typed back, “You must have the wrong number.” The reply came instantly: “No, I’m looking for you, Violet Brooks.” The weirdness of it made me double-check the sender’s number—and that’s when I noticed something bone-chilling: the messages were coming from my own phone number. Imagine that: it was exactly midnight, and I was messaging…myself. Was this some elaborate prank, or a ghostly midnight message? I took a deep breath, tried to steady my hands, and finally typed back, “Who are you?” The screen stayed silent until morning. I almost forgot about the whole thing, but then last night, while staying up late for a club interview, the clock struck twelve, and my phone pinged with the same message: “Go to the Computer Science Department and find William Walker.” That was the second time. I had to figure out what was going on. “Who are you? Is this a joke?” I asked. The answer came back quickly, and it made absolutely no sense: “I am you, ten years from now.” Yeah, right. What a ridiculous prank. I reminded them, “April Fools’ Day was six months ago.” “It’s not a joke. If you don’t believe me, I can prove it. You’re in 2020, and you have a crush on Chase Emerson, right?” My brain froze. Chase Emerson was a guy in our club, a year older than me. He was charming and sweet, and a lot of people called him the “perfect senior.” He had been extra kind to me, and I liked him, but I’d never told anyone. How did this person know? Almost as if reading my mind, the message continued, “Don’t question it. I know because I am you—ten years in the future.” I threw caution aside and asked, “So, did I end up with Chase in the future?” There was a pause before the answer came, “Yeah, you got married.” I barely had time to blush before my phone lit up with a series of messages: “But he’s got nothing to offer in bed, he’s a massive jerk, and if you stay with him, he’ll blow through your money, hook up with your friends, and even try to kill you!” My jaw dropped, and a sad feeling crept in. Seriously? Was my future that tragic? Maybe realizing the sidetrack, the future me quickly got back to the original point: “We’re running out of time. Listen to me—go to the Computer Science Department and find William Walker.” “Right now, he seems distant and cold, but in time, he’ll be the one who loves you most.” “Promise me you’ll save him. Don’t let him die for you this time.” I asked her who William Walker was, why he’d die for me, and what would happen, but my messages seemed to disappear into a void. I checked the time. It was exactly five minutes past midnight. Apparently, this strange, time-crossing conversation had its own strict schedule.

The next day, I dragged myself to my 8 a.m. class, tired from the night before. With assigned seats, it was easy to see who was missing or late, so I noticed right away when I got to my desk—a breakfast had been placed on it: soy milk, a small order of dumplings, and a chocolate muffin. I turned to my roommate, who’d arrived just before me. “Who brought this?” “No idea,” she shrugged. Then she grinned and teased, “Come on, Vi, isn’t it from Chase Emerson? I mean, he bought you an iced coffee before, and last night you even posted about wanting a chocolate muffin on your Instagram story. Maybe he’s got a thing for you?” That café with the famous chocolate muffins was three miles from campus, and those muffins usually sold out fast. Normally, I would have felt flattered, giving Chase a little boost in my mind. But after those messages, now just hearing his name made me think of that warning: “He’s got nothing to offer in bed.” I practically cringed. Half of his good image was gone, and under my roommate’s playful stare, I quickly denied it: “No, we’re not together or anything.” At 3 p.m., I went to the club interview as planned, and things went smoothly. Chase came over afterward to congratulate me, asking if I wanted to catch a movie with him that evening. Normally, I’d have been happy to accept, but today, with that line repeating in my mind, I could barely stop myself from glancing downward. Chase leaned closer. “I already got the tickets—it’s that suspense movie you wanted to see.” Keeping my face neutral, I declined, “Sorry, I’m busy tonight.” He looked a little disappointed. “Alright. Next time, then.” I exhaled in relief. Then a thought hit me—wasn’t William Walker also in the Computer Science Department? Maybe Chase would know him. Curious, I asked Chase if he knew William Walker, and he nodded. “Yeah, he’s a freshman, pretty well-known this year. Why, do you know him?” I shook my head, improvising, “I have a friend who likes him.” Chase’s expression turned serious, his brows furrowing. “Your friend should probably give up.” “Why? Does he have a girlfriend?” “No,” he replied, his tone grave. “But word is, he’s got issues—like, mental health issues.” Chase shared some rumors about William Walker. Apparently, when William first joined, he was noticed for his sharp looks and mysterious attitude, and Chase’s “campus heartthrob” status was almost dethroned. But then someone dug up details about his family and posted them on the school forum. Overnight, everyone’s attitude shifted completely. The reason was clear: William’s father was a killer, with severe mental issues. William had witnessed his father murder his mother when he was just five years old. His dad, in a violent rage, had stabbed her, then slowly approached him. Miraculously, his father regained control just as he raised the knife, and realizing what he’d done, he ran away, vanishing completely. William’s neighbor found him hours later, huddled in a corner, shaking and staring blankly at the wall. After that, his father went missing, and William was left with a distant relative who quickly sent him off to the Riverside Youth Home. Chapter

The online forum painted vivid scenes. The thread starter claimed to be William’s former high school classmate and said he’d once seen William lose it, pinning an older classmate to a wall after the guy mocked his parents. Some people thought William’s reckless, fearless energy was an inherited trait, and rumors about his “mental instability” spread all over the Computer Science Department. I read every word of those posts, and instead of feeling afraid, I just felt… sad. It was probably those messages affecting me. One forum post even had a candid shot of him—eyes sharp, looking coldly into the camera. I studied that photo for a long time, conflicted, before finally deciding I’d try to meet him myself. Finding William wasn’t hard. I didn’t even need to ask around. Just standing outside the Computer Science building and looking in, I spotted him immediately in the crowd. Unlike most students who dressed in brand-name clothes and buzzed with energy, William was in the back row alone, wearing a plain white t-shirt. Black hair, dark eyes, like an ocean hidden from the sun—he just seemed out of sync with the world around him. Maybe my gaze lingered too long, because suddenly he looked directly at me, catching my eyes with a sharp, almost piercing stare. My heart skipped, and instinctively, I ducked out of sight beneath the window. As soon as I crouched down, I realized how weird it was. I wasn’t a creep—so why was I acting so guilty? When the bell rang, students poured out, and I saw William at the tail end of the crowd, his face calm and distant. Rumors must’ve kept people wary, as he walked alone, a little pocket of solitude in the middle of the busy hall. I couldn’t help myself—I called out, “Hey!” I ran over, phone in hand. “You’re William Walker, right? Hi, I’m Violet Brooks from the 3 The forum posts about William Walker were so detailed, you’d think people were reporting on a local celebrity. One person claiming to be his former high school classmate described a time they saw William snap, pinning a taller upperclassman against a wall. Apparently, the guy had made a rude comment about his parents. Everyone said William had this fearless energy, like he didn’t care what happened to him. Most figured he must’ve inherited it from his dad, so rumors about him having “mental issues” spread quickly across the Computer Science Department. I read all the posts about William. Not only did they not scare me—they actually made me feel sorry for him. …Maybe those texts had already started to get to me. One of the forum posts even had a picture of him, obviously taken in secret. In the photo, he was glancing at the camera with eyes that were both wild and cold. I stared at that photo for a long time, feeling torn, before deciding I’d go find him and see for myself. Finding William wasn’t hard; I didn’t even need to ask anyone. I simply went to the window of his classroom and looked in. Among the sea of students, he stood out immediately. His vibe was so distinct. Most college students around here wore brand-name clothes and had a certain carefree energy. But William was different. Sitting alone in the back, he wore a plain white t-shirt, dark hair falling into his equally dark eyes, like a shadowed lake with no sunlight reaching its depths. I compared him to the photo from the forum. No doubt, this was him. Maybe I was staring too long because he suddenly looked straight at me. Our eyes met, and his gaze was sharp, cutting. Caught in the act, my heart skipped a beat, and, completely flustered, I crouched below the window, hiding from view. It only hit me afterward how ridiculous that was. I wasn’t a spy, so why was I hiding like one? When the bell rang, everyone started pouring out of the classroom. I stood on my toes to catch sight of William, who was trailing at the end, a calm and distant look on his face. Thanks to the rumors, people kept their distance, walking in groups while he was completely alone, wrapped in a quiet solitude that felt almost suffocating. I couldn’t help myself—I called out, “Hey, you!” I jogged over to him, holding up my phone. “You’re William Walker, right? Hi, I’m Violet Brooks, from the Design Department. Can I add you on WhatsApp?” This was the first time I’d ever approached a guy like this. My heart pounded, but William stopped and looked at me, somewhere between surprised and… curious. “You know me?” His voice was calm and steady, surprisingly gentle. Trying not to seem overeager, I answered, “No, but I’d like to get to know you. If that’s alright?” William’s face went blank. “No, it’s not alright.” He brushed past me with a firm, “Don’t follow me.” Um… excuse me? Does he realize how quickly he’s pushing me away? When midnight rolled around, another message from the future came in, as predictable as clockwork. The same line as always, like some persistent command: “Go to the Computer Science Department and find William Walker.” Remembering what happened earlier, I replied, frustrated, “I went today. Are you sure he’s the right guy? He doesn’t even know me, and he definitely doesn’t like me.” Underneath the frustration, I also felt a tiny bit hurt, though I wasn’t even sure why. Was it because I’d made a fool of myself? Or… because it was William? That one look he gave me through the window stayed with me. Maybe I felt a little… smitten. After two full minutes, the future-me replied. “No mistake. I’ve read his journals. All through school, he’s been quietly in love with you. Neither you nor I ever noticed it.” A quiet, years-long crush. I tried to remember if I’d ever noticed him, but I couldn’t. So I asked, “When did William start liking me?” Unexpectedly, future-me replied, “I don’t know.” “His love… it was too silent. I never sensed it.” “Anyway, you need to watch out for Chase Emerson. He’s a total fraud who’ll stop at nothing to hurt you. The only reason he failed in my world is because William gave up his own life for me. I want to save him. I want him to live.” I promised future-me I’d protect William. From that moment, I came up with a plan. First things first: avoid Chase Emerson. I had once liked him because he was kind to me, but I wasn’t a fool. After learning he was a walking disaster, I’d happily take the midnight train out of town before dating him. Second: find a way to get close to William. I went to the school’s message board, found his class schedule, and on mornings when I didn’t have classes, I brought two breakfasts and confidently walked into his classroom, sitting down right next to him. He looked like a startled hedgehog, all his spines raised. “What are you doing here?” His voice was as cold as steel. He was cute like this. Though his journal had supposedly recorded a long crush, in real life, he seemed determined to keep his distance from me. A classic case of saying one thing and doing another. I handed him a breakfast sandwich and coffee. “I brought you breakfast.” He tensed, studying me before giving a quick push, “I don’t want it.” But his eyes had given him away; I could tell he was tempted. He was a complete contradiction.

I admit I have my own agenda. My 28-year-old self only asked me to save William’s life, to make sure he survived, but here I am at 18—wanting him to be mine. The breakfast I brought him turned into a playful tug-of-war, back and forth between us. It was enough to catch the attention of the students sitting in front, who turned around with faces full of shock, as if they couldn’t believe someone would actually sit next to William, much less chat with him. When the bell rang, I took a deep breath and firmly grabbed his hand, pushing the breakfast into it. Softly, I said, “Come on, skipping breakfast isn’t good for you. I brought this just for you—take it, okay?” I was pretty good at being persuasive, and, sure enough, William froze the instant I held his hand, like he’d been jolted. This time he didn’t push it away, but he did set the breakfast on the corner of his desk, as if he didn’t plan on eating it. I sighed inwardly, telling myself there was plenty of time for him to warm up. But by the third day, he’d clearly had enough. He blocked my way in the hall, gripping my arm. To put it lightly, he looked like a cornered animal, all bristling intensity. “What exactly are you trying to do?” If anyone else had confronted me like that, I’d probably have bolted. But the look in his dark eyes, an angry shield that barely hid something raw and vulnerable, didn’t scare me—it made my heart ache. And before I could stop myself, I said, “I think I…kind of like you. So could you…like me back?” William’s hand dropped away. A second later, he broke into a grin. It was the first time I’d seen him smile, and it was dangerously captivating. Whatever fondness I’d felt before surged into something stronger, something dizzying.

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Every time we do a split-the-bill dinner, Valerie always finds a way to skip out. After eating her fill, she either plays dead or suddenly “remembers” she has something urgent to do. If anyone asks her for her share, she gives them a sideways look. “Everybody ate, so why should I pay more? We all breathed the air, too—why don’t you charge for that?” Because she has connections higher up, most people just swallow their frustration. Since I was new, I volunteered to organize a company dinner and suggested we split the cost. Val zeroed in on this, ate, and then tried to avoid paying. Then she pretended to have a seizure to get out of it, thinking I’d let it go. I smiled. She had no idea I’m not one to back down. Content “What is this? It’s terrible.” Val grimaced, forcing down another bite. “It’s something my mom spent weeks making just so she could send it to me,” Megan replied, staring at the empty wrappers in front of Val in shock. Val made a sound of disdain, spitting out what was left. “Didn’t you say I could eat it?” Megan’s face reddened, and her eyes filled with tears. “I offered you one to try, not the whole batch. Why would you eat all of it?” She couldn’t hold back anymore and started crying. Val raised a brow dismissively. “Really? It’s just a little food. I’ll pay you back next time, and honestly, it wasn’t even that good. I can’t believe you’re crying—people will think I bullied you or something.” Just as I set my laptop down, I caught the end of their argument. Curious, I asked the person next to me, “What’s going on? Why is she crying so hard?” My colleague rolled her eyes at Val before answering. “You’re new, so you wouldn’t know, but Val’s always pulling stunts to get free stuff. We all try to steer clear of her. Megan’s new too; she just moved here from New Mexico. It’s a big deal for her to get her favorite hometown snacks. Her mom even went out of her way to make them and send them here. She tried to be nice and let Val try some, and Val went and ate the whole lot—and then criticized her mom’s cooking.” Another colleague, clearly annoyed, joined in. “’Next time,’ she says. Val never pays anyone back. If she’s not mooching, she’s cutting corners.” Megan kept crying as Val yelled over her. “You’re crying over a few snacks? Seriously, you look like some bumpkin from nowhere. Couldn’t even handle more than three dishes at a real meal.” Megan went silent, shocked into stillness by Val’s outburst, her cheeks still wet. I frowned—was this really okay? I wanted to step in, but then Director Collins called, asking me to bring some paperwork upstairs. By the time I came back down, they’d all dispersed.

At lunch, a guy mentioned, “I’m ordering takeout. I have a discount code if anyone wants to join.” He tapped my desk and asked politely, “Hey, I noticed you haven’t had lunch yet. Want me to add something for you?” I looked up from my work. “Sure, thanks! Just let me know how much, and I’ll Venmo you.” He smiled, saying we’d figure it out after he used the code. Val bustled over, her face stretching into a big smile. “Jamie, I haven’t eaten either. Could you order me something?” Jamie didn’t respond and just walked away. Val huffed, “Hmph. What a miser.” Someone nearby teased, “Val, how many times have you ‘borrowed’ lunch from Jamie? Have you ever actually paid him back?” “Oh, get over it. I carry a Chanel bag. Do you think I’d cheat him out of some takeout?” Val huffed, returning to her desk before standing up again and calling after Jamie. “Come on, order me one more time. I swear, once I owe you a full thousand, I’ll pay you back!” Jamie didn’t even look back. When the food arrived, everyone collected their orders, but one was left unclaimed. Val grabbed it while no one was watching and started eating. When Jamie came back, he slammed a contract onto her desk. “You took my food without asking?” Val chuckled. “I noticed it was just sitting there, and I didn’t want it to go to waste.” “Taking something without permission is stealing. This cost twenty bucks. Venmo me.” Val’s eyes widened. “What proof do you have that it was yours? Besides, you used a discount code—it probably covered it. You didn’t even pay for it yourself, so what right do you have to charge me?” Her twisted logic left Jamie speechless. “Val, do you have no shame? Is it a matter of life or death for you to freeload every day?” Val rolled her eyes, sneering. “I wouldn’t even care if you died, Jamie.” She looked him up and down with disdain. “You don’t even have two hundred dollars on you—don’t talk to me; you’re bad luck.” Jamie was ready to hit her, but she slammed her hand on the desk. “Do you even know who I am? I’ve got people in high places.” Val had been hired by the HR Director at the Manhattan Headquarters. Our branch office only had Project Managers, so as long as she didn’t mess up her work, no one here could do much about her.

I couldn’t take it anymore. So I smiled sweetly. “I bet that Chanel bag’s a knockoff.” Val whipped around. “What did you just say?” I shrugged. “You can’t even fork over twenty dollars. I doubt you can afford real Chanel.” She grabbed her bag and stormed over. “Are you blind? Look at the details—no fake would be this good!” I took a step back. “Oh, I get it. Everyone must have chipped in to get it for you.” “Shut up! Nobody’s that stupid!” I pointed at her half-finished food. “Little bits here, little bits there—eventually, they add up, don’t they?” Everyone stared at her. Her face turned red. She threatened, “Acting like a hero, huh? Be careful, or you might find yourself unemployed.” I looked at her, deadpan. “You’ve got spinach in your teeth. And bad breath.” The whole office burst into laughter. Humiliated, Val stomped back to her desk. She plopped down so hard that her leftovers spilled onto her Chanel bag. She shrieked, rushing to the restroom with her bag. Jamie came over to thank me, saying it had been ages since anyone had taken Val down a notch. I offered him my lunch. “I haven’t touched it, and I’ll be out soon anyway. Go ahead.” A colleague asked, “Aren’t you worried Val will come after you? I mean, she does have connections.” I threw on my Hermès bag. “Not my problem—I’ve got money.” She gave a low whistle. “Respect.”

By Friday, I wanted to get to know everyone better, so I suggested going out for dinner. “There’s a new Japanese place downstairs. I know the owner and can get us a half-off deal. It’s on me.” But they insisted that any group dinner was self-pay. They didn’t want to take advantage of me. “Fine, but I’ll still get them to throw in a few extra dishes,” I said. Jamie raised his hand first. “I’ve wanted to try that place for ages, but it’s so expensive. With a discount? I’m in!” Everyone else jumped at the chance. “Yeah, we can’t miss out on this.” I reserved a private room for ten. “Grace, add me, too! I’d love to go!” Val said, sidling up to me with a smile. I hesitated, then looked up at her. “Only if you pay your own share.” Her face tightened, but she forced a smile. “Of course! You think I’m the kind of person who wouldn’t pay? I’ll definitely pay.” I considered it, then agreed. She left, grinning. Jamie leaned over and whispered, “Don’t trust her. She always says she’ll pay but comes up with excuses every time—either she suddenly gets sick, or she leaves early. She never actually pays.” I raised an eyebrow. “So you just let it go?” He gave a resigned nod. “She owes me about five hundred in lunch money, but I can’t risk my job by confronting her.” I watched Val skip lunch that day to save room for dinner. “Don’t worry,” I told Jamie with a smile. “I’ll get your lunch money back.” She had no idea she was up against someone who’d been through worse than her cheap tricks.

I handed out the menu for everyone to choose their dishes. Even with the discount, the prices were still high, so everyone discussed their options and chose carefully. But Val snatched the menu, barely glanced at it, and ordered the most expensive sashimi, lobster, and a bottle of sake. The others were outraged. “What the hell, Val? This isn’t your treat—why are you ordering the priciest stuff?” She even slipped out to order foie gras before replying, “What’s your problem? I’m paying my share—it’s split, right? Don’t be so cheap.” The others glared as I held up my hand. “Valerie promised she’d cover her portion. Everyone, just eat. I’ll handle any extras.” When the food came, Val took as much as she could. Before anyone else had a chance, she’d already piled most of it on her plate. “Val, could you be a little considerate? We’re all supposed to share, and you’re taking everything!” She swallowed a red shrimp. “What, are your hands broken? I didn’t stop you from eating.” “Are you kidding me…?” Someone slammed the table. “You need to leave.” She crossed her legs. “Who do you think you are? Grace hasn’t said anything. Who are you to tell me what to do?” Dinner became tense. “Next time she’s at a company dinner, I’m not going,” one person muttered under their breath. As the meal ended, Val clutched her stomach. “I need the restroom.” I blocked her. “Pay up first.” She glanced around. “Do you think I’d cheat you out of a few bucks? I’m serious—I have a stomachache.” She gestured at her purse on the table. “My bag’s right here. Where would I go?” Then she rushed out. Everyone knew she’d run. Jamie cursed, “I’m going after her.” I held him back with a smirk. “No need. She’s not going anywhere.”

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At the start of my freshman year, my new roommate, Tiffany Malone, snuck onto my phone, took a selfie, and sent it to my online boyfriend. She even added a caption: “Babe, don’t I look gorgeous?” Mason, my boyfriend, sent back a huge question mark and followed it up with a voice message, cursing: “If I ever thought I was in love with that face, it’d make me wanna puke! We’re done, you ugly witch. Get lost!” When I came out of the shower, ready to explain, I found I’d already been blocked. Then Tiffany, holding her phone, smugly told me, “A MuseHub streamer added me! He said he wants to be my boyfriend.” One glance at the account, and I realized it was my ex-boyfriend Mason. Content When I finished my shower, I grabbed my phone off the desk. Opening it, I saw a stream of furious texts from Mason, followed by his breaking up with me. Scrolling up, I saw Tiffany’s hideous selfie. It was stomach-turning. Her huge, greasy face gleamed with a layer of oil, dotted with pimples. When she smiled, her yellow teeth still had chili pepper bits stuck in them. I almost dropped my phone. Trying to explain it wasn’t me, I realized I was already blocked. I snapped at Tiffany, “Why would you even touch my phone without asking? And who told you to send those pictures?” Tiffany rolled her eyes and replied impatiently, “With that plain face, how do you expect to hold onto any guy? I was just helping you out by lending my beauty!” I was speechless. Me, plain? Back in high school, my looks at least got me into the top-ten list on local rankings. Tiffany didn’t always look like this; since she started streaming on MuseHub, she’d played into her audience’s fascination with the grotesque, gradually transforming herself. Ironically, her fans praised her as a “real beauty” in her MuseHub channel. I thought about explaining things to Mason. Even though it was an online relationship, I actually knew who he was. His name was Mason Rivers, a junior at East Ridge Tech, a popular singer on MuseHub with an incredible voice. I came to this city for him. One night after he uploaded a song, he messaged me, saying he loved my voice. We ended up chatting all night. When he realized I was at a nearby school, we made things official the next day. I’d planned to surprise him at this month’s National College Music Fest. Instead, I’d been blocked. I felt crushed, but then Tiffany suddenly squealed, “My dream guy just added me! He said he wants me to be his girlfriend!” Curious, I glanced at her phone. Sure enough, it was Mason’s account. Tiffany didn’t have any photos on MuseHub, just a few of her songs. Her voice was sugary-sweet, completely different from my cool, neutral tone. I was stunned. Mason dumped me and found someone else immediately? Unbelievable. And Mason was in for a surprise, seeing as he’d managed to find the “beauty” from the pictures.

Tiffany stripped off her clothes, her body jiggling everywhere. I thought she was heading to the shower, but she just put on pajamas and walked out, stuffing her underwear under her pillow. I was speechless. I knew she’d head to the hallways to sing with her fake voice. Sure enough, she returned soon, giggling and asking Mason in her sweet tone, “Did I sound good, babe?” Mason’s breathing was heavy. “Baby, your voice is so sweet. It has this… special effect on me. I want to listen to it every night.” I felt like I’d been hit with something vile as they exchanged mushy goodbyes. Tiffany sighed, “Too bad he doesn’t know I’m a famous streamer, too. But come music fest, he’ll get a surprise!” I could hardly wait to see Mason’s reaction when that surprise arrived. Tiffany then started her nightly livestream. Ironically, I was scrolling through my phone in a face mask and accidentally stumbled across it. In her MuseHub channel, Tiffany was wearing black lace tights, and her belly rolls spilled over them like layers. Her skin was dull and blotchy, and I couldn’t remember the last time she took a shower. She twisted around, using a voice modulator to sound more mature. “Oh, boys, it’s so hot tonight. I’m here for you even when it’s this hot.” “You guys have to give me a Top Diamond Gift tonight, or I won’t perform.” The room was packed, and sure enough, a message popped up: “Streamer’s location is only six miles from me!” The profile picture was an anime character, and the bio listed East Ridge Tech—the same school as Mason’s. Disgusted, I closed the video, but later, I noticed a new post on MuseHub with two screenshots of Tiffany’s stream: “Loves playing around with a voice modulator. Given the location, I bet she’s from Starlight Conservatory.”

Mason had liked and commented on the post, thinking it was me in the screenshots. “Heads-up, everyone. Don’t get fooled by this ugly chick. She’s got a MuseHub account too.” Other replies flooded in: “Gross!” “Just seeing that makes me lose my appetite.” “Thanks for the warning.” Mason even messaged me: “Don’t let me see you at the music fest, or there’ll be trouble.” I blocked Mason in return, laughing coldly as I watched Tiffany putting on her “sweet girl” act for her viewers, kicking out anyone who called her out. She was convinced she was a special kind of beauty. Suddenly, her “top fan” Blake “Big Al” Morrison entered her channel. “Sweetheart, crawl around like a bear, and I’ll send you five True Love Roses.” Tiffany’s eyes sparkled, and she started crawling on all fours. Her rolls of flesh strained her tights, and her tattoos stretched across her back. She was panting when she finished, but her top fan rewarded her with a Grand Carnival gift and promised, “I’ll be back every night at ten for a new performance.” Tiffany beamed and thanked him as she ended the stream. Today, she’d made a killing. With pride, she said, “Not like some people here who still live off family money.” I couldn’t resist asking, “You really think you’re beautiful?” Tiffany scoffed, “You think dried-up twigs like you are real women? Look at this,” she said, pointing to her chest. “I don’t have to try, and look at that figure. These guys are obsessed with me, or they wouldn’t camp out every night.” I just closed my eyes, hoping not to have nightmares.

The next morning, I was rushing to my 8 a.m. class, while Tiffany was sprawled out on her bed. I hesitated, then told her, “You’ve got class this morning. You should get up.” Tiffany groaned, turning to face the wall and muttered, “Just tell them I’m sick.” I glanced at the clock, deciding not to push it. She’d barely shown up to any classes since the term began. In the lecture hall, Emma Sanders asked, “Riley, are you signing up for the music fest? They say East Ridge Tech has a lot of cute guys participating.” I nodded. I wasn’t doing it for the guys—I loved singing and wouldn’t miss the chance to perform. Emma asked if I’d picked a song, and I told her, “I’m still deciding.” I had chosen a song to perform for Mason, but now I had to pick something else. Logging onto MuseHub, I was bombarded with 99+ messages. One comment, from an unfamiliar account, read: “You ugly skank, think you can just block me? Watch me expose your account and get you booted from MuseHub!” It was Mason’s backup account. I scrolled through my old uploads, where a swarm of hateful comments had appeared. “Just a fugly girl fishing for guys—does it make you sick?” “I thought that voice belonged to a beauty, but it’s a fat slob. I could puke.” I unblocked Mason and saw his new post: “Watch out for this chick’s account. She posted pics and harassed me. If she shows up at the music fest, let’s teach her a lesson.” Too embarrassed to admit we’d dated, Mason lied and said I was harassing him. His fan club raided my comments. Any attempt to explain was drowned out with insults: “Stop harassing my idol!” “Go away!” More and more people warned me not to show up at the music fest. Furious, I deleted the app.

After a long day, I returned to the dorm, only to be hit with a horrid smell. Trash was scattered everywhere. Looking up, I was stunned to find Tiffany, fully naked, putting on makeup at the desk. My temper flared. “Why are you sitting there with no clothes? And this trash! You’re not going to clean it up?” Tiffany shrugged, still using her baby voice. “Why so loud? I was just about to clean it up.” From her phone, I heard Mason’s voice: “Who’s that? That voice sounds familiar.” Tiffany quickly whined, “Oh, it’s just my roommate, Riley. She’s always bullying me.” Mason hesitated. “Riley? Is that her name?” Tiffany slammed the desk, snapping, “Why are you calling her by name like that?” Mason stammered, “No, babe. My roommate told me there’s this ugly girl at your school named Riley. I even saw a photo—she’s hideous! You’d better steer clear.” Tiffany finally calmed down, replying, “Yeah, she’s not cute at all.” Mason chuckled, “And does this ugly girl know you’re calling me with no clothes on? She’d probably be jealous if she saw how hot you look.” Tiffany laughed, dismissing the thought. “Yeah, she’s probably jealous of me, but I can’t help that.” Mason’s voice turned shaky with excitement: “Baby, could you send me a picture?” Tiffany giggled, “You’re so bad! Don’t worry, I’ll have a huge surprise for you at the music fest.”

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The National Day holiday coincided with my fifth wedding anniversary with my wife Saylor. We had planned to spend the vacation together in Santorini, but on the morning of our departure, Saylor hurriedly packed her luggage and told me, “The company needs me for an urgent business trip.” I believed her, until late that night when I saw a post from Ryan, Saylor’s first love, on Instagram. In the photo, they were intimately close together, fingers intertwined, with matching couple bracelets shining brightly. I smiled bitterly. She had gone to Santorini after all, just not with the person she had promised. I didn’t call to confront her. I calmly liked the post. A minute later, Saylor called me in a panic: “It’s just a misunderstanding, we ran into each other on the business trip. I’ll make it up to you next year’s holiday, I promise.” I sneered, “It’s fine. Have a good time.” Saylor asked in surprise, “Why aren’t you jealous this time?” … When Saylor returned a week later, I didn’t rush to greet her at the door as I used to, taking her luggage and helping her change shoes. Saylor leaned against the doorway, frowning as she looked at me. “Yannick, where are my slippers?” In the past, I would always have her slippers neatly arranged to welcome her home, but not this time. Seeing me sitting motionless on the couch, watching TV, I said: “In the shoe cabinet. Find them yourself.” Saylor’s frown deepened when she heard my words, but after a moment’s hesitation, she relaxed her expression. She took out her slippers from the shoe cabinet and put them on. Walking up to me, she looked at the empty dining table and pouted, “I’m a bit hungry. Can you make me some dumplings?” In the past, whenever she said she was hungry, I would get up to cook for her even at 3 AM. But today I just coldly replied, “I’m busy. Order takeout yourself.” Saylor sighed with a flash of annoyance on her face, then immediately snuggled up to me and softened her tone, “Honey, I know you’re upset about my sudden business trip. I apologize. It won’t happen again. I brought you a special gift, can you forgive me this once?” I still stared straight ahead, my tone even. “You’re overthinking it. I’m not upset.” Saylor paused for a moment, frowning slightly. She took out a simply wrapped gift from her suitcase. After unwrapping it, it was a tie. Saylor looked at me expectantly and said, “Do you like it? I picked it out especially for you.” I remembered Ryan’s Instagram post from three days ago: A mall opening promotion, spend $1000 and get a free tie. That blue-green striped tie was now being presented to me by Saylor as a carefully selected gift. I didn’t show any dissatisfaction on my face, accepting the gift and saying flatly, “Thanks. You’re thoughtful.” Seeing that I had nothing else to say, Saylor was a bit taken aback. “That’s all you have to say?” I just gave a noncommittal “Mm” and asked, “What else do you want to hear?” Saylor frowned slightly and explained while holding my arm. “Are you still upset? I already explained that day, Ryan and I really just ran into each other at the airport and had a meal together during the business trip.” I just nodded, “I know. I’m not upset.” My reaction seemed to surprise her. She looked at me in disbelief: “Why aren’t you jealous this time?” “No reason. I’ve come to terms with it.” I stood up, grabbing my coat to leave. Saylor stepped forward to block my way and demanded: “Where are you going? Where’s my anniversary gift?” A month ago, I had bought a blue sapphire bracelet at an auction, and Saylor had seen the news. To her surprise, I took out my phone and transferred her $3000, saying: “I forgot to prepare anything. I’ve sent you some money, buy whatever you like.” Saylor fell silent. In our five years of marriage, I had always carefully prepared gifts for her on every holiday, without fail. She was stunned for a few seconds, then angrily grabbed my hand and asked, “What about the bracelet?!” I laughed coldly, pointing at her hand. “What bracelet? Aren’t you wearing the couple bracelet with Ryan?” Saylor immediately became very uncomfortable. “This… it’s just a friendship gift from him, don’t overthink it. I’ll take it off right now.” Having lived together for five years, I was familiar with her micro-expressions. From the way she clutched the hem of her shirt, I could see her panic. Since I had already given up, I really didn’t want to say more to her. I pinched the bridge of my nose, turning away with an exhausted look.

In the five years since our marriage, I had always put Saylor first in everything, and it had been a long time since I’d seen my old friends. I immediately bought a plane ticket to Hong Kong to meet up with my buddies. My friend Kevin immediately arranged a dinner when he received my call. After a few drinks, everyone looked at me and said almost in unison: “We thought you forgot about us after getting married. Does Saylor know you’re here?” I took a couple sips of wine and smiled, replying: “You can call me anytime from now on. I don’t need her permission anymore.” My phone screen kept flashing, with Saylor calling me over a dozen times. After Ryan returned to the country, there were many times when Saylor didn’t come home at night and I anxiously called her like this. A few times when I angrily questioned why I could never reach her by phone, she impatiently replied, “Is the sky falling? It makes me sick every time I see you calling me repeatedly.” Now, she had become the one making me sick. We partied until late at night. As we were about to leave, Saylor burst in, looking disheveled. She pulled out a chair and sat down naturally beside me, snatching my wine glass and saying, “Even if you’re in a bad mood, you shouldn’t drown your sorrows in alcohol. Don’t you know about your stomach problems?” For a moment, I was dazed. Her sudden show of concern made me very uncomfortable. I raised my eyes to glance at her coldly. “What are you doing here?” My friends politely greeted her. She smiled in response and then tightly gripped my hand, saying softly, “You weren’t answering my calls, so I had to come find you.” I shook her off with obvious displeasure and said coldly, “Saylor, I’ve already told you we have nothing to do with each other anymore. Please don’t do these out-of-line things.” Seeing my resolute attitude, Saylor stared at me in shock. I directly pulled my friends away, walking past her. Saylor ran out after us, shouting at my back, “Yannick, I’ve already come to make up with you. What more do you want me to do?” “We’re almost thirty years old. Can’t you be more rational than disappearing over a marital spat?” Saylor got straight into the car, following me back to Kevin’s place. In the car, she tried to talk to me again. I directly rejected her. She became somewhat exasperated: “You’ve had enough of your tantrum and enough to drink. Will you come home with me?” “I know you’re jealous, but Ryan and I really are just friends. Why do you have to hurt yourself like this?” I smiled and replied, “You misunderstand. I’m drinking because I’m happy to see my friends. It has nothing to do with anything else.” With that, I pushed Saylor away and went inside with Kevin. No matter how much she knocked, I ignored her. That night, I slept very soundly.

The next morning, Kevin knocked on my door to tell me Saylor was here. After getting dressed, I went downstairs to see Saylor sitting silently at the dining table with a gloomy face. I knew she was angry. In the past, even a slight frown from her would have sent me rushing to cheer her up. But this time, I walked away without looking back, hailing a taxi on the street. At the airport, I ran into Saylor again. She walked up to me, her tone full of anger. “Yannick, we’re married. There’s really no need to avoid me over some small matter.” I didn’t even look up, tapping on my keyboard as I replied, “You’re overthinking it. I have no intention of avoiding you.” Just as I finished speaking, Saylor’s phone rang with a special ringtone for priority contacts. After answering, I heard Ryan say through the screen: “Where are you? Don’t forget tonight’s party. Whether we can close this deal depends on today.” Ever since Ryan returned to the country after his divorce three years ago, Saylor had been secretly helping him using my name. I had originally planned to turn a blind eye. But seeing Saylor’s upturned lips, I felt mocked. She had never used such a gentle tone with me. Many times when she spoke to me, it was in a businesslike manner. I had suggested before that I hoped she could be gentler with me. Each time she impatiently replied, “Work is already giving me a headache. Can you not have so many demands of me?” Thinking of this, I immediately sent two messages to my secretary, telling him to inform our business partners that Saylor and I were in the process of divorcing. After hanging up, when she turned to look at me, she instantly put away her sweet smile. “The company still has some issues to deal with. There are no more tickets for the nearest flight. Can you give me your ticket? You can wait for the next one…” Seeing me motionless, Saylor repeated what she had just said. But I coldly responded. “I didn’t buy a ticket back to River City.” As soon as I finished speaking, Saylor exploded in anger. “Yannick, so from the beginning, you came to the airport just to put on a show, to tell me you’re jealous, right?” “You’re really childish!” With that, Saylor stormed off without looking back. I watched Saylor’s retreating figure with a surge of bitterness in my heart. No matter when, as long as Ryan called, Saylor would drop everything to rush to his side. Just like that New Year’s post Ryan had made: True love means that no matter when, you’re always her first choice.

I hadn’t bought a ticket back to River City because my destination was Singapore. After taking over the family business, what I wanted most was to enter the supermarket industry, and that plot of land in the west suburbs was the most suitable location at the moment. Kevin recommended a mentor to me, saying he was his father’s close friend. As long as I had a meal with him, I could learn a lot. We hit it off immediately. During the meal, the mentor helped me solve many of my current doubts. He liked me very much and suggested that I stay and study in his company for half a year, saying that after half a year I would definitely be able to successfully enter the supermarket industry and make a name for myself. With such an opportunity presented, I had no reason to refuse. After dinner, before I could send the mentor back to his residence, Saylor’s calls kept coming in. I impatiently hung up several times until the mentor spoke up: “Do you need to inform your family about coming to Singapore?” The mentor must have seen my affectionate contact name for Saylor. I shook my head and explained: “That’s my ex-family now. I’ve already decided to divorce.” After dropping the mentor off, I finally called Saylor back. As soon as the call connected, Saylor directly questioned me: “Yannick, what do you mean? Why are the business partners telling me today that they will only discuss cooperation matters with you face-to-face?” “What exactly happened? Haven’t I been in charge of all company affairs big and small for the past few years? Do you know how important tonight’s cooperation is to me?” Hearing her usual imperious tone, I couldn’t help but laugh. “So what?” Just as I finished speaking, Ryan’s voice came through the phone: “Saylor, you have to help me with this. I only have you now.” Saylor reassured him softly, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” Hearing this, I clenched my fist and struck the steering wheel hard twice, a surge of hatred rising in my heart. Saylor kept insisting to me that there was nothing between her and Ryan, yet she was comforting him tenderly right in front of me. I don’t know when Saylor started wearing this mask of false emotions when facing me. It’s truly disgusting. I coldly refused and then hung up the phone and turned it off.

I stayed in Singapore for two days. Besides having tea and chatting with the mentor and handling the onboarding procedures, I also found a place to live near the company. I had my assistant inform several business partners in advance about my plans to go abroad, and thanked them for their support over the years. There were no signs of Saylor having returned home. Everything was as usual, so I took the opportunity to change the passcode on the front door. After resting for a day, the business partners called me one after another saying they wanted to arrange a farewell dinner. I couldn’t refuse, so I had to attend. The private room door was ajar, and I heard Ryan chatting happily with the business partners. I was a bit puzzled, not expecting that a simple farewell dinner would invite Saylor and Ryan. I paused for a few seconds, but still pushed the door open and went in. Ryan was sitting in the main seat, leaning against Saylor. Saylor glanced at me and said, “Everyone here today is a friend, so just sit wherever.” “There was some confusion at the banquet that night. Now that everyone’s here, let’s have an open discussion.” The business partners’ gazes all fell on me. Seeing my gloomy face and silence, they didn’t say anything either. Ryan’s eyes were full of smugness as he smirked at me. I didn’t want to sit near them anyway, so I casually pulled out a chair and sat down. During the meal, Ryan kept toasting the business partners, loudly discussing the bright prospects after signing the cooperation. He was clearly very happy tonight. My phone also kept flashing. Saylor sent me several messages. “I’m going to announce something later, please give me some face. If you have any questions, we can discuss them when we get home.” “You should be able to see today that there’s nothing between Ryan and me. I have nothing to hide from you.” I kept reading until the last message popped up. “Ryan will probably drink too much today. I might have to send him home first after we’re done.” I raised an eyebrow and briefly replied “Whatever.” After a few rounds of drinks, Saylor saw the atmosphere was right and stood up with Ryan to make a toast and announce: “From today on, Ryan will be our company’s newly cultivated person in charge. He’ll be responsible for liaising with you all in the future. Please take care of him.” At this point, the business partner closest to me asked in confusion: “Liaising? What liaising? Frost Corporation has already decided to withdraw from River City, and we’re all prepared to withdraw our investments too. Who are you going to liaise with?” “What?! Withdraw from River City? Yannick, you…” Saylor was shocked, suddenly turning to look at me. I nodded calmly: “Yes, I plan to move Frost Corporation overseas.” Saylor’s eyes widened in disbelief: “You want to take Frost Corporation overseas? What about me?”

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I was working late at the office when I got a call from the hospital in the middle of the night. They said my wife, Serena Hayes, had suffered an ovarian rupture and that I needed to come in to sign the consent forms. Standing in the brightly lit office, I was completely dumbfounded. Content “What kind of husband are you? Do you even know how dangerous an ovarian rupture is? If she hadn’t been brought in so quickly, she could’ve died!” The moment I rushed into the hospital, the doctor lashed out at me. He scolded me for being careless, for apparently being too rough during intimacy and not considering my wife’s wellbeing. I glanced down at the report in my hands. The words “ovarian rupture” practically screamed at me from the page. I was completely stunned. With the year-end approaching, my company was swamped. I had been working endless overtime, leaving early in the morning and returning late at night, even sleeping at the office on some nights. “How…how does this happen?” My voice cracked as I hesitated to ask. The doctor rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. “You really don’t know? Rough intimacy can cause it. Your wife is hemorrhaging and is still in surgery. She came here by herself, for crying out loud! You didn’t even accompany her! Here’s the bill. Go pay it.” Without waiting for my response, he shoved the payment slip into my hand. Standing at the payment kiosk, I pulled out my phone to look up the causes of ovarian rupture. Moments later, my face flushed red with anger. Serena and I had been married for three years. Back in college, she was the sweetheart of our class, the type of girl every guy wanted to date. It took me ages to win her over, but I finally did when we graduated. Shortly after we started dating, she got pregnant, and we decided to get married. But she had a miscarriage not long after. For the next three years, every time I tried to get close to her, she’d push me away. She said thinking about the baby we lost made her feel guilty, like she didn’t deserve happiness. I respected her wishes. Every time, I’d quietly go to the bathroom to take care of myself. I never let her cook or clean, and I handed over my entire paycheck every month. When she said she didn’t know how to cook, I asked my mom to move to the city and cook for her every day. I worked myself to the bone to make sure she could live comfortably. Finally, I managed to buy us a small two-bedroom house. The car and house? Both in her name. And yet, here I was, paying for the medical bills caused by her cheating. Grinding my teeth, I paid the fees. By early morning, Serena had been moved to a private room after surgery. She was hooked up to an IV, pale and unconscious on the hospital bed. She was undeniably beautiful. Even without makeup, her skin was smooth and flawless, the kind of beauty that seemed innocent and approachable. Marrying her had always felt like the greatest blessing of my life. I’d spoiled her in every way possible. But now, looking at her lying there, she felt like a stranger to me. The thought of me breaking my back working overtime while she was off with another man—enough to land her in the hospital—made my blood boil. After calming myself down, I picked up her handbag and pulled out her phone. Ridiculous—she’d never even shared her password with me. Using her fingerprint, I unlocked it and scrolled through her WhatsApp, contacts, and messages, but there was nothing suspicious. Just as I was about to give up, a notification popped up on her Instagram DM. “Home yet, babe? You were incredible tonight!”

Seeing the message, I glanced back at Serena. Even in her pale, frail state, I felt not an ounce of pity for her. I quickly opened the chat. The profile picture was a cartoon character, giving me no clues about the man’s identity. The chat history only showed today’s messages, clearly wiped clean before. I typed a simple reply: “I’m home.” “Exhausted, huh? Still hurting? I’ll be more gentle next time,” came the response. My hand trembled as I gripped her phone. Grinding my teeth, I deleted the messages and returned her phone to her bag. Sitting beside her, I replayed the years we’d spent together. She’d always avoided intimacy. She’d never acknowledged me publicly on her social media. Whenever I asked about it, she’d dismissively say, “We’re adults. Why does it even matter?” I’d naively believed she was just a private person. Now I realized, the bike I’d been so careful with all these years—someone else had been riding it rough all along. “Cal…why am I here?” Her voice, soft and weak, broke the silence. It sent a wave of disgust through me. Serena groggily sat up, her pale face filled with confusion. “What’s going on? Why am I in the hospital?” As she adjusted herself, her neckline slipped, revealing faint hickeys on her chest. She was still wearing the red bodycon dress I’d bought her. “You really don’t know why you’re here?” I asked coldly. Serena froze for a second, then let out a small, mocking smile. “Hmm, and what about it?” “We’re getting a divorce.” Her expression twisted, caught between shock and anger. “Seriously? Over this? You’re never around, Cal. I have to deal with everything on my own—my bad days, my loneliness, my sadness. You practically live at your office. What am I supposed to do? Pretend I’m not human?” She started crying, playing the victim like it was second nature. I’d studied enough psychology to know what she was doing: framing herself as the wounded party, justifying her infidelity. But for the first time, I saw through it all. Years of hard work, devotion, and sacrifice—none of it meant anything to her. In her eyes, I was nothing more than a fool who handed her everything on a silver platter. “My company’s just getting off the ground. If I’d been home all the time, where would the money for the house and car have come from? Serena, you don’t work. You don’t clean. You don’t cook. You get thousands in pocket money every month, on top of every comfort imaginable. And yet, you cheated on me so badly you ended up in the hospital. Do you even have any shame?” My voice rose as I spoke, startling even myself. Serena looked at me, stunned for a moment, but quickly recovered, dabbing her tears like a seasoned actress. “Money can’t buy everything. Money doesn’t replace love or companionship, Cal. Do you know how hard it is to be a woman, to feel ignored by her own husband?” “You can keep the house, the car, and the money. But you can’t keep me. We’re done, Serena.” For the first time, I walked out on her. I’d recorded our conversation and taken screenshots of her messages. I was finally ready to end this. When I got home, the place was a disaster. Takeout containers piled up, clothes strewn everywhere. My mom had been staying with us, taking care of Serena, but had recently left to visit family. Without her, the house had become a pigsty. I sat down on the couch, exhausted and furious. What was the point of all my sacrifices? My anger boiled over. I texted Serena, telling her to be ready to finalize the divorce as soon as she was discharged. When I placed the divorce agreement on the coffee table, Serena Hayes stared at me in disbelief. Her shock quickly morphed into anger. “All this over cheating? Seriously? You’re really going to divorce me for this? Let’s be real—do you honestly think you’ll find someone like me again? Someone at my level?” She launched into a tirade, her words buzzing in my ears like a swarm of flies. I stared her down and said firmly, “Sign it.” “Ha! Who do you think you are, yelling at me? You think I actually wanted to marry you? Fine, divorce it is. Don’t act like I can’t live without you. Take a good look at yourself!” Fuming, she ripped the agreement to shreds, stormed toward the door, and turned to hurl one final insult. “Calvin Morris, mark my words. Don’t come crying to me when you regret this. I’ll never take you back!” With a loud slam, she was gone. I laughed bitterly, staring at the torn-up papers on the floor, my heart feeling just as shredded. I’d spoiled her rotten, and it had come to this. I had given her all of my love. It was only fair I could take it all back.

Serena hadn’t been gone long when a storm rolled in, lightning flashing and rain pouring down in sheets. I couldn’t help but think about how she’d left without an umbrella. If she got caught in this rain so soon after surgery, her body wouldn’t handle it. Against my better judgment, I picked up the phone to call her, intending to tell her to come back and wait out the storm. But when the call connected, a man’s voice answered instead, breathless and full of urgency. “Babe, what did that pathetic cuckold say?” Serena’s laughter rang out, bright and carefree. She exchanged a few playful quips with him before speaking into the phone. “Why are you calling me, Cal?” “Serena, who is that guy? Is he the one who landed you in the hospital?” I growled through clenched teeth. She burst out laughing. “Oh, Cal, you’re too much! This whole divorce thing is just your way of trying to get my attention, isn’t it? Hoping I’ll care more about you? So insecure. You can’t be here for me, and now you don’t want anyone else to be either?” A sudden crack of thunder outside jolted me. The sound snapped me out of my haze, and I finally saw things clearly. What was I doing? Why was I letting this woman humiliate me over and over? Would I really die without her? Grinding my teeth, I hissed, “Serena, the divorce agreement will be sent to you as a document. I expect you to sign it.” Before she could respond, I hung up. Hearing her voice even one more second made my stomach churn. The house, the car—all of it was in her name. By law, it was marital property, meaning she was entitled to half of everything, including my savings. But given her infidelity, I had grounds to push for her to leave with nothing. With that resolve, I began compiling evidence of her affair, gathering screenshots and call logs before handing everything over to my lawyer. A legal notice was promptly sent to her. Having dealt with the mess, I threw myself back into work, hoping to drown my frustration in productivity. After a long meeting, I returned to my office and froze in my tracks. Serena was sitting on the couch, waiting for me. She was dressed to the nines, her makeup flawless, and her every move radiated calculated charm. But instead of feeling drawn to her, I felt nothing but disgust. “Cal, I went home and found the locks changed. What are you doing? You’re being so childish! Look, I forgive you for threatening divorce. Let’s move past this, okay? We’ve been married for years. Deep down, you don’t want to let me go. Even if my heart isn’t entirely yours, my body is. Isn’t that enough?” She flung her arms around me, feigning affection. “C’mon, let’s stop fighting. You already have me, isn’t that what matters? Drop the lawyer nonsense, and while you’re at it, go clean the house, turn in your paycheck, and don’t expect any allowance this month.” The casual way she said it, like nothing had happened, made my blood boil. I shoved her off me, shouting, “This divorce is happening, Serena. No more games.” Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms with a smirk. “Don’t push your luck, Cal. I’m giving you a chance to save face. If you leave me, don’t come crying later when you’re miserable and lonely.” I laughed bitterly. The sheer audacity was laughable now. This was no different from the entitled “princess” mentality I’d seen online. “Stop pretending, Serena. You don’t want a divorce. Everything—the house, the car—is in your name. You think you can walk away without consequence? Dream on.” She raised a manicured hand, examining her nails nonchalantly. “Fine, I’ll give you one more chance. Buy me the latest designer handbag, grovel a little, and I might forgive you. But you’d better make it count, or you’ll regret it when you come begging me later.”

Her words were so absurd I couldn’t help but stare in disbelief. I knew she was spoiled, but this level of entitlement was staggering. Still, I had no interest in arguing with her further—especially not at work. I had actual responsibilities to deal with. I pointed to the door. “I don’t want your ‘chances.’ Leave now. We’ll finalize this on Monday at the courthouse.” She scoffed, her heels clicking as she headed for the door. “Fine, be stubborn. I know you’ll miss me. You’ve got until Monday to win me back, but don’t show up without the bag. Think it over.” With that, she stormed out of my office. I immediately informed my team that she was no longer allowed on company premises. When I loved her, she was everything to me. Now that I didn’t, she was nothing. Love? I’d finally learned: loving yourself and your family is what truly matters. This was just a minor setback in the grand scheme of things. I’d use it to push myself harder. Monday came quickly. I arrived at the County Courthouse early, waiting for Serena. The light rain falling from the sky was a bittersweet reminder of my wedding day. Back then, I’d been so thrilled I couldn’t sleep the night before. Now, that excitement felt like a distant memory. Serena arrived late, stepping out of a flashy red Luxury Porsche with a smug grin and a brand-new Chanel handbag in hand. To make matters worse, she was accompanied by a short, unimpressive man. They were giggling and holding hands like love-struck teenagers. Walking over to me, she made a point of kissing him on the lips before addressing me. “Why so impatient, Cal? We got a little carried away last night. But hey, I’m here now. Don’t be such a nag.” As she adjusted her hair, she made sure I noticed the hickeys on her neck. The sheer disrespect made my blood boil. Forcing a deep breath, I pulled out the divorce agreement and handed it to her. “Take a look. If it’s all good, sign it.” “You’re really serious about this?” Her eyes widened as she stared at me. I nodded, keeping my tone casual. “I don’t keep secondhand trash. With my qualifications, I can do better than wasting time on someone like you.” Her face turned crimson with rage. “How dare you talk to me like that! You wouldn’t be where you are today without me. I’m a blessing to any man I’m with. Fine, divorce it is. Don’t come crying to me later.” She skimmed the document, then let out an ear-piercing shriek. “What’s this? You expect me to leave with nothing AND pay you $20,000? You’ve got to be kidding me!” “The car and house were bought with my money. You didn’t contribute a single cent. And by the way, you’ve transferred over $20,000 to someone named Dominic Bellamy. Let me guess—it’s him, right? Here are the bank records to prove it. What kind of person takes my money and spends it on another man?” Serena smirked but before she could respond, Dominic pulled her closer with a smug grin. “Babe, we don’t need his filthy money. Who cares about the car and house? I’ll buy you new ones.” “Did you hear that?” Serena turned to me, her tone dripping with condescension. “My man is richer than you ever were.” I smiled faintly. “You know you’re in the wrong here, don’t you? I have all the evidence of your affair. Even if you don’t agree to my terms, what can you do? I could easily release all your little messages for the world to see.” “You wouldn’t dare!” Serena snapped.

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On his birthday, Alex Thornton, the frat boy sponsored by my wife, Vanessa Caldwell, posted on Twitter: “Happy 22nd birthday to me! Nobody else remembered, but my superstar sister sure did!” The post was tagged at a couples-themed restaurant. The picture attached was a selfie of him with my wife—faces practically touching. The top comment read, “Wow, spending your birthday with Vanessa Caldwell? And at that restaurant? Are you two together?” Alex replied directly to that comment: “Hehe, almost there.” I used my verified account to like the comment, and within minutes, Vanessa called me, furious. “Why are you liking that comment with your official account? It’s just a birthday dinner with Alex! Don’t be so petty. Just say it was an accident—fans are asking questions!” I could faintly hear Alex’s voice in the background, “If it makes him happy to see me getting hate online, that’s fine. After all, he’s just a former Academy Award Winner.” I hung up. What she didn’t remember was that it was also my birthday. I had spent three years building Vanessa’s career, three more years stepping back from the spotlight to do it, and two years in a secret marriage to protect her public image. Eight years of loving her. But now, I was done. It was time for me to make a comeback. …… Content

When Vanessa came home that night, I was playing with the kitten I’d just bought. Vanessa hated cats and dogs. Years ago, she’d secretly gotten rid of the cat I’d raised for five years. Since then, I hadn’t dared to bring another pet home. “Ethan, what the hell is this? You know I hate cats!” Vanessa shrieked. I glanced at her, unfazed, and continued petting the kitten. “Oh, stop sulking already! Alex just graduated and needs my help. Why are you jealous of him? I’ll make it up to you later, okay?” she said, pinching her nose like she was doing me a favor. When I ignored her, she got mad. She grabbed the kitten roughly and threw it aside, then shoved me. “Apologize to Alex! You’re a grown man throwing tantrums over a frat boy!” The kitten let out a sharp cry, scrambled back to me, and hissed at her. I hadn’t expected Vanessa to shove me that hard. My stomach hit the edge of the table, and a sharp pain flared up—my chronic gastric condition was back. I hadn’t eaten dinner, hoping Vanessa would come home to celebrate my birthday. Seeing Alex’s tweet had ruined my appetite entirely. Now, the stress had triggered the pain, leaving me speechless. My gastric issues had started during those years of pushing Vanessa’s career. Long nights drinking with producers and directors, always taking a backseat to let her shine—it had worn me down. Vanessa’s expression wavered when she saw my face pale. “Where’s your medication? I’ll get it,” she said, rummaging through the living room. “I thought it was here… but—” She froze, her face shifting guiltily. She remembered. The day before, she’d taken my medication to Alex. “Alex crashed his car, Ethan! Where’s the first aid kit?” she had yelled as she burst through the door. Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed the box where I kept my gastric meds. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll take this for now!” she had said, rushing out. Normally, I would’ve been angry, demanding why my medication was going to Alex. But today, I was just tired—tired in every way. “I’ll run out and buy more. Hold on,” Vanessa said, voice uneasy. She tried to help me to the couch, but the kitten hissed, and she backed off. “I don’t know why you bought this stupid thing,” she muttered. Keys in hand, she headed for the door but stopped when her phone rang. “Vanessa! Those debt collectors are at my place again,” Alex sobbed on the other end. “They said if I don’t pay up tonight, they’ll break my hand! Please, help me!” “What?!” Vanessa’s delicate face showed panic she’d never had for me. “They dare mess with my people? I’ll be right there!” “But it’s so late… won’t Ethan get mad?” Alex whimpered. “Like I care what he thinks!” Vanessa snapped. She glanced at me before stepping out. “I’ll buy your meds later. Alex is in danger.” I wanted to tell her I wanted a divorce. Instead, I watched her leave, clutching a business card I had meant to use as a surprise. It was from an internationally renowned director, someone Vanessa had admired for years. I tore it into pieces.

It was past midnight, and Vanessa still wasn’t home. The kitten curled up beside me, licking my hand as if sensing my pain. I knew she wouldn’t come back, but part of me couldn’t help hoping. Eventually, the pain forced me to order medicine through a delivery app. While waiting, a notification popped up—another post from Alex on Twitter. This time, it was a photo of Vanessa standing protectively in front of him, shielding him from a group of men. “Those debt collectors finally left after Vanessa threw money and threats at them,” he wrote. “I got a little hurt, but Vanessa’s taking me to the hospital now.” The comments were buzzing. “Is that Vanessa Caldwell again? She and that frat boy are such a cute pair!” Alex replied, “Thanks for the support! Keep shipping us—we’ve got plenty of sweet moments for you!” My heart twisted. Vanessa had insisted on keeping our marriage a secret, claiming it would hurt her career. Yet here she was, flaunting an ambiguous relationship with Alex in public. Did this not hurt her career? Alex had only suffered a small injury, and Vanessa was frantic. But just a month ago, at the Golden Laurel Award ceremony, Vanessa had stepped over me—literally. I’d gotten her that award through relentless networking and favors. As she accepted her trophy, I was cornered by men whose toes Vanessa’s rise had stepped on. “A washed-up actor trying to snag resources from our boss?” the leader sneered before his group beat me down. Through the haze of pain, I saw Vanessa holding Alex’s hand, walking by without even stopping. That night, bruised and battered, I confronted her at home. “Why didn’t you help me? Why didn’t you call the police?” “I didn’t think it was that serious,” she stammered, avoiding my eyes. “You were scared they’d hurt Alex, weren’t you?” Vanessa didn’t deny it. “Come with me to file a report. You saw it happen—you and Alex can testify.” “Oh, come on, Ethan. It was just a scuffle! You’re fine, aren’t you?” she snapped. That night, I realized how much I had lost—not just my health but my dignity. The next day, I called my old agent. “I’m ready to come back. Got any roles for me?”

When I woke up, Vanessa Caldwell was already home. She sat on the couch, scrolling through her phone. As soon as she saw me, she barked, “Your medicine’s on the table. Looks like you survived the night without it. Why were you acting so dramatic?” I gave her a faint smile. “I already bought some.” Vanessa visibly relaxed, then said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, “Well, since you’re fine, take me to Pinewood Studios. My new film starts today. By the way, what happened with that international director you were supposed to connect me with? I knew you’d mess it up. You’re more useless every day.” I always drove Vanessa to her set openings. Even though I had left the industry, I was still respected as a former Academy Award Winner. People knew about our relationship and would give her extra attention because of me. But as I thought about the director’s card I tore up last night, a quiet satisfaction settled in my chest. On the way to Pinewood, Vanessa started whining about wanting iced water. I reached into the backseat to get it for her, only to spot a pair of men’s boxers lying there. Vanessa sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes darting nervously to mine. If this had been the past, I would’ve demanded to know whose they were, pressed her to keep Alex Thornton away. But now, I just smiled faintly and said nothing. “Alex got caught in the rain once,” she began hastily. “I went to pick him up, and he changed in the car. I didn’t realize he left… that… behind.” “Vanessa,” I interrupted, keeping my voice calm. “Did you know that Alex’s birthday is the same day as mine?” Her face froze. Her gaze wavered, guilt flickering across her features. “I… I forgot. I’ll make it up to you later, okay?” I didn’t respond, just handed her the water and resumed driving. She didn’t realize there wouldn’t be a “later” for us. At the studio, staff glanced at us with unease, their curiosity palpable. Then the pain hit me again—sharp and relentless. I took a deep breath, willing myself to endure it. A co-star of Vanessa’s, someone she was friendly with, couldn’t hold back any longer. She walked over and asked, “Vanessa, what’s going on with you and that frat boy? And what about Ethan?” Vanessa shot me a quick, nervous look before saying, “One for home, one for fun. Why wouldn’t I go for someone younger and more energetic?” The actress looked stunned, then glanced at me with a mix of disbelief and pity before walking away. Once she left, Vanessa grabbed my hand, her tone urgent. “You know how it is. Alex just graduated, and he wants to break into the industry. With me and you supporting him, it’s good for all of us.” I nodded absently, noncommittal. Sitting through Vanessa’s scenes was tedious. Her acting had once been terrible, and I had painstakingly coached her until she could make it through a take without mistakes. Even her public image, once abysmal, had been molded by me. She was like a rose I had nurtured—beautiful, yes, but now her thorns were tearing me apart. During the most pivotal scene of the day, Vanessa’s phone rang. She dropped everything to answer it, halting the entire production. “Vanessa!” Alex’s pitiful voice rang out over the quiet set. “I went to audition for that role you recommended me for, but the team doesn’t take me seriously. They don’t think I’m good enough. Can you come and back me up?” “How dare they! I’ll be right there!” Vanessa snapped, grabbing her purse to leave. “Mrs. Caldwell, we’re not done here…” the director began, trying to stop her. Vanessa ignored him entirely. I stepped in, grabbing her wrist. “If you walk out of this set now, your reputation will be ruined,” I warned. Her face darkened. “Are you threatening me? Did you not hear Alex needs me?” “Alex, Alex, Alex,” I murmured bitterly. “If you leave this set, we’re getting divorced,” I said, my voice cold and final. Vanessa looked at me in shock, then scoffed. “Using divorce as a threat, Ethan? Nice try. We’ll talk about this later.” She yanked her arm free, shoving me hard as she stormed off. My stomach, already on fire, couldn’t take the force. I fell to the ground, the pain unbearable. “Ethan, are you okay?” The crew rushed to help me. Vanessa, do you see this? Strangers care more for me than you ever have. Why am I still holding on? I took my medication, forcing the pain down, and turned to the director. “This film just started production, right? Not much has been shot?” The director nodded hesitantly. “Replace Vanessa’s scenes. I’ll take her role and fund the project myself,” I said firmly.

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My dad, Captain Logan Turner, is the leader of a search-and-rescue team. During a field training exercise at Glacier Ridge, Montana, his team discovered skeletal remains buried in the snow. After calling the police, he immediately phoned my adoptive sister, Heather Blake, instructing her to cancel her upcoming hiking trip. One of the team members reminded him, “Shouldn’t you call Melanie, too?” But he snapped, “Why bother with that wretched monster? Better if she’s dead out there!” What he didn’t know was that I had already died. Those broken bones in front of him—they were my remains. And yet, he failed to recognize his own daughter. Content 0 “The bones show multiple impact marks from sharp objects, and they’re incomplete,” said one of the experienced officers at the scene. “This doesn’t look like an accident—it seems like murder.” My skeletal remains were uncovered from the snow. The officer made his judgment immediately. My dad nodded gravely, promising to recover the rest of the remains. Before taking action, he pulled out his phone and called Heather. “Heather, there’s been a murder up on the mountain. Cancel that hiking trip you signed up for. Stay home for the next few days and be careful.” “Yes, Dad, I will,” Heather replied sweetly. But Dad still couldn’t rest easy and gave her a few more warnings until she playfully complained, “Dad, you’ve said it a million times—I got it!” Only then did he hang up. One of his team members, Paul Harrison, spoke up. “Hey, Captain, didn’t I hear your younger daughter mention she was planning a hiking trip, too? Maybe give her a call?” My dad’s face instantly darkened with irritation. “Why bring up that worthless brat?” “That heartless monster who stood by as her own mother died? I’d be glad if she dropped dead out there.” Even though I was already dead, a cold gust seemed to pierce through me. I shivered. So, this is how much my dad hates me. But why didn’t he recognize me? Didn’t he realize that these pitiful bones in front of him belonged to the daughter he despised so much? 0

The search lasted a full day and night. The team combed every inch of the mountain. My dad worked tirelessly for 48 hours without rest. Yet, despite all their efforts, they had found very little of me. When the police questioned him, his face was heavier than before. “We’ve searched the entire mountain and found only a single leg bone.” “I suspect the victim’s body was dismembered and scattered here deliberately.” The officer was stunned. “So, the perpetrator likely disposed of the remaining body parts elsewhere?” “Not just body parts—there’s still a lot of tissue missing. All we have so far is one leg bone,” my dad explained grimly. “This was a vicious, premeditated killing. The murderer is far more brutal than we imagined.” The officer paused before replying, “I’ll call for more reinforcements and expand the search area.” At that moment, one of the team members found a necklace hanging on a tree branch and handed it over. When I saw it, a spark of hope ignited within me. It was the necklace Dad had given me years ago for my birthday. Surely, he would remember! He had to! Dad examined it briefly before handing it to the officer. “This might have belonged to the victim,” he said. “Take photos and upload them online. Let’s see if we can find the next of kin to identify the body.” Paul glanced at the necklace and hesitated. Then he said, “Logan, doesn’t this look familiar? I think I’ve seen it on your younger daughter before…” Dad’s brow furrowed in irritation. “Identical necklaces are everywhere. Paul, you’re acting strange today. Did Melanie put you up to this nonsense?” “She’s always been manipulative. Don’t fall for her tricks.” Paul tried to say more, but Dad was called away. Watching his retreating back, I felt my hope sink. Dad wasn’t always like this. He used to love me. But ten years ago, his high school sweetheart passed away after years of domestic abuse, leaving behind a daughter—Heather. Dad took Heather in, despite my mom’s protests, and treated her like his own. My mom couldn’t accept it and demanded a divorce. After a heated argument, she climbed Blackwater Bridge with me in her arms, threatening to jump. The wind on the bridge was strong. I was terrified and begged her to put me down. In the end, she leapt into the icy Silver Creek River, leaving me alive but forever marked by that night. When the recovery team found her body, Dad slapped me twice without hesitation, calling me a murderer. From then on, he only had one daughter: Heather Blake. I was even forced to change my last name. I became Melanie, the unwanted. Dad hated me, and now that I was dead, he should finally be happy, right? 0

The search continued. Meanwhile, a teacher from Crestwood High School called Dad. “Melanie has been missing since last night. Her roommates said she was gone even before noon yesterday.” “Mr. Turner, can you contact her? If not, we may need to file a missing person report.” The teacher’s tone was urgent, but Dad only sounded annoyed. “Mrs. Quinn, Melanie is always lying.” “She’s skipped class before. Don’t worry. She’ll come back when she’s had enough fun.” “But…” Mrs. Quinn tried to argue, but Dad had already hung up. Heather was calling. “Dad, I don’t feel so well. When will you be done?” she asked softly. The frustration on Dad’s face melted away instantly. “It might take a little longer, honey. What’s wrong? Are you okay? Should I take some time off and come home to you?” His voice was gentle, his concern palpable. Listening to him, I felt a bitter pang. Since my mom’s death, Dad had never spoken to me with that kind of warmth. He always said I was a murderer—that I had destroyed our family. But Dad, I’m your real daughter. Couldn’t you care for me, even just a little? That night, he took time off and rushed home. Heather, lying in bed with round-the-clock care and a personal doctor on standby, was his sole focus. His eyes were filled with worry. “Heather, how are you feeling?” “Dad!” she exclaimed with joy, throwing her arms around him. As I watched their affectionate exchange, even as a spirit, I felt my nose sting with emotion. But no tears would come. I could only stand there, invisible, while Dad fussed over her. Eventually, Heather lifted her head from his embrace, her bright eyes shifting cunningly. She tested the waters. “Dad, didn’t you say the search would take several more days?” “Have they already found all the body parts?” Dad froze, startled. “How did you know the body was dismembered?” My dimmed hope flickered to life again. The necklace hadn’t done it, but this was an obvious clue. Surely, Dad would piece it together! But Heather shrugged it off with a casual, “I saw it on the news.” “Whoever she was, it’s so tragic. I can’t imagine how her family must feel.” Dad nodded, completely missing the flicker of satisfaction in Heather’s eyes. “Yes, it’s awful. But we haven’t identified her yet. Her family might not even know she’s gone.” That small spark of hope within me was extinguished once more. Dad, it’s me. Can’t you recognize me, even now? 0

Dad stayed home with Heather Blake all day. It wasn’t until late that night that his phone buzzed with a call from the team. Someone at Timberline Outpost had made a major discovery, and he was needed immediately. Dad quickly threw on his gear to leave, but Heather, clutching the doll he’d given her as a welcome-home gift, suddenly appeared. Her wide eyes filled with tears as she whispered, “Dad, it’s thundering outside. I’m scared…” For a moment, hesitation flashed in Dad’s eyes. Just as Heather’s plea seemed to anchor him, his phone vibrated again. Tom Larson had sent dozens of photos from the scene. One glance, and Dad’s pupils dilated in shock. He turned back to Heather and said gently, “Sweetheart, be good. Stay with your aunt, and Daddy will be back soon.” He dashed down the stairs and out the door, heading straight for the outpost. When he arrived, he pushed past the line of police tape. But Tom Larson stopped him at the entrance. “Logan, I don’t think you should go in there…” Dad brushed him aside, snapping, “I’ve been in search-and-rescue for years. I’ve seen everything.” “Move.” Yet the moment he stepped inside and caught sight of the well at the center of the scene, he staggered back and retched violently. The air was thick with decay. Pieces of flesh, dismembered and unrecognizable, had been fished out of the well. The soaked remains lay in bags on the ground. Nearby, sealed evidence bags held the tools of the crime: a hammer, an axe, a saw—and even a grindstone. The officer at the scene began explaining grimly, “These tools weren’t just used for dismemberment.” “They were used on the victim while she was still alive.” “We’ve found traces of blood and skin tissue on the stones—marks left by her struggle against the pain.” “This was torture.” “And based on preliminary findings, the victim was a tall woman. Her left leg shows an old fracture, likely from a dog attack. She might have had trouble walking.” With each word, Dad’s face grew darker. His lips pressed into a firm line. Was he grieving for me? Then, suddenly, Tom Larson spoke up, his voice hesitant. “Logan, I can’t shake the feeling… wasn’t your youngest daughter’s left leg also injured? And her build… it’s a match, isn’t it?” “Tom!” Dad roared, his expression hardening into anger. The fleeting softness in his eyes was gone, replaced by a deep fury. “What lies has that little monster been feeding you? You’ve been bringing her up a lot lately!” “I’ve already said, even if she’s dead out there, it has nothing to do with me.” “And anyway, a coward like her? She’d never die. She’s too selfish.” Tom opened his mouth to say more, but Dad had already stormed off. Nearby, another officer received a call. “Logan,” the officer called, stopping him. “Your younger daughter’s teacher just reported her missing.” Dad grabbed his phone and hurled it to the ground, his voice echoing through the space. “Enough! Enough already!” “The victim is in pieces, and you’re playing this ridiculous game with that brat!” “If she wants to go missing, let her! Finding the killer matters more.” The officer started to speak again, but Dad’s phone suddenly rang. Heather’s voice came through, trembling. “Daddy, the thunder’s so loud… I’m so scared.” The gentleness returned to Dad’s face instantly. “Sweetheart, Daddy will be home soon.” But before he could leave, the officer stopped him. “Logan! Come back!” Turning, Dad saw Mrs. Rachel Quinn, my teacher, standing in the rain, soaked to the bone. She had come personally and brought surveillance footage. The video showed a figure in a red winter parka—the exact one found on the victim.

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My father forced me to marry a disabled billionaire to spare his little princess from an unwanted marriage. I agreed immediately. Not long after, my stepsister changed her mind. She pointed at me and said, “Dad, I want my brother-in-law. Make her get lost!” Pfft. My husband laughed. I heard that night, their whole family packed up and fled in a hurry. My stepsister was crying her eyes out, refusing to marry Hugo Edwards. My dad, feeling sorry for this stepdaughter who shared no blood relation with him, immediately declared that he would never let her suffer. “Nancy, you’ll marry him instead of your sister.” He said this as casually as if he were commenting on the nice weather. Without a second thought, I replied, “Sure.” My stepsister immediately stopped crying. Even my stepmother looked at me in shock. Her shrewd eyes darted around, probably trying to guess if I had some hidden agenda. Indeed, I did have other plans. Natalie despised Hugo Edwards for being disabled. I didn’t. Because what I valued was his family background. Our Collins family was considered prestigious in Sea City. Well, to be precise, the Collins family basked in the glory of my maternal grandparents’ family. My mother’s family, the Shen family, had made their fortune during the Qing Dynasty. A century-old enterprise with vast wealth. Unfortunately, my mom was blind in love and chose my dad, a man who climbed the social ladder through marriage. No matter how much my maternal grandparents tried to stop them, they couldn’t sever their bond. Later, my mom gave birth to me and brought my dad back to her family, hanging her head in shame. My grandmother took pity on him and used her personal savings to support my dad in starting his business. He leveraged my maternal grandfather’s reputation and connections to make a considerable fortune. As his business grew, my mom saw less and less of him. Later, when my maternal grandparents passed away, my mom inherited their family fortune. That’s when my dad came back, sweet-talking his way into getting all the money from my mom. He transformed himself into Sea City’s top tycoon and wanted to divorce my mom. My mom couldn’t take it and jumped from a building, ending her life. I was ten years old that year. Before the seventh day of mourning for my mom had passed, my dad brought my stepmother and stepsister home. He claimed it was to take care of me, but in reality, the two of them were having an affair. They turned a blind eye when Natalie tried to steal my things. If I hadn’t been so young, I would have slapped him hard for my mom, even that wouldn’t have been enough to vent my anger! Heaven has eyes. Ever since my dad married this woman, his business took a nosedive. Just recently, he was on the brink of declaring bankruptcy. And now, out of nowhere, he dug up some old marriage agreement between the Shen family and the Edwards family. He wanted his stepdaughter to marry into wealth, but she refused. The atmosphere was tense. After a long while, my stepmother finally spoke: “Nancy, are you… serious?” “Of course. I can also choose not to marry. Why don’t we let Natalie marry him instead!” Natalie immediately grabbed my dad’s arm, crying like a fountain. “Daddy, I don’t want to marry Hugo Edwards!”

On our wedding night, as Hugo sat on the bed, I gently asked, “Do you need help getting up?” The soft orange light cast on his chiseled face made him look exceptionally handsome and refined. He glanced at me and said in a deep voice, “No need to trouble yourself.” With that, he easily stood up and strode towards the bathroom with his long legs. What? Wasn’t he supposed to be lame? I curiously peeked around the doorframe into the bathroom. The man was about to take off his shirt. Probably sensing my burning gaze, he spoke without turning around. “Seen enough?” My face flushed hot, and I quickly pulled back. “Sorry, please continue!” While he was showering, I searched again for all the gossip about Hugo Edwards. At a previous public event, Hugo Edwards had been seen in a wheelchair. Because he usually kept a low profile with little information leaked, rumors spread about his disability. But tonight’s Hugo Edwards could not only walk normally, he hadn’t tried to hide it from me. Suddenly, a wild thought popped into my head: Could he be an impostor pretending to be Hugo Edwards? Thinking this, I couldn’t help but sneak another peek through the bathroom door, squinting my eyes to see inside. In the steam-filled bathroom, I noticed a dark purple circular birthmark on the man’s waist. Hmm—it really was Hugo Edwards! Suddenly, the man turned around. Long, slender legs, a flawless V-line, and those eight-pack abs—who wouldn’t be mesmerized by that sight? “Get out!” As soon as he spoke, a large bath towel landed precisely on my head. “Sorry!” Now that I had confirmed his identity, I started to feel uneasy. Seeing him naked the first time we met wasn’t exactly appropriate, was it? We were married, not strangers, right? No, wait. We hadn’t even met before the wedding, so we were practically strangers! The sound of water stopped, and my heart skipped a beat. Whatever, I thought. If I die, I die. Worst case, I’ll let him see me too! Hugo came out wrapped in a towel, drying his hair as he walked. Droplets of water trickled down his exposed broad shoulders. He raised his dark eyes and asked with a frown, “Why are you still here?” I froze for a moment, “Where should I be?” “Mrs. Sun!” A minute later, Mrs. Sun led me to the room next door. “Ma’am, this will be your room from now on.” I think I finally understood where Hugo Edwards was “disabled”!

I don’t have trouble sleeping in new places. In fact, I felt more at ease here than at my family home. I fell asleep as soon as I hit the bed and slept until dawn when Mrs. Sun knocked on the door to call me down for breakfast. In the living room, a tall figure was leaning back in a chair, long legs crossed. If I wasn’t mistaken, he was reading a newspaper? It suddenly reminded me of my maternal grandfather who passed away over a decade ago. The old man loved to sit in his chair, basking in the sunlight while reading the newspaper. Tsk, how old-fashioned. The man suddenly turned his head, his dark eyes as deep as an ancient well. “What are you looking at?” I snickered, “You’re clearly a normal person, so why do you always use a wheelchair?” Hugo didn’t explain because he had already started to enjoy the breakfast Mrs. Sun brought over. “Ma’am, please eat.” Uh… I felt a bit uncomfortable and smiled, asking the kind Mrs. Sun, “Mrs. Sun, you don’t need to call me ma’am in the future. It’s too formal. Just call me Nancy!” “But…” Hugo frowned unconsciously, “Mrs. Sun, just do as she says.” Just then, a black luxury car silently pulled into the courtyard, and an elderly woman with white hair stepped out. This elderly lady was Hugo’s grandmother, whom everyone called the Old Madam. Hugo and I quickly got up to greet her at the door. “Grandma!” “Good, good, good. You were eating, weren’t you?” The Old Madam smiled, looking us up and down, then had someone open the thermal container she brought. A faint medicinal smell wafted from the steaming container. “Hugo, drink this quickly.” Hugo wrinkled his nose, his expression just like a child being forced to take medicine by their parents. I couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. “Grandma, what is this now?” The old lady took my hand and patted it gently. “Nancy, dear, don’t mind this. This old woman doesn’t know how many days she has left. I’ve waited so long for Hugo to get married, and seeing you two so well-matched makes me happy.” I smiled sweetly, “Grandma, please don’t say such things. You’re in good health and will surely live to be a hundred. Hugo and I will take care of you together!” My words delighted the old lady so much she couldn’t stop smiling. “This child is so much better than that blockhead.” The “blockhead” Hugo showed no sign of anger at being called that. “Grandma, why are you telling her all this?” The Old Madam pretended to be angry, glaring at him lovingly. “You! Such a good girl like Nancy marrying you. If you dare to upset her, I’ll break your legs myself!” Hugo was also surprised that the Old Madam liked me so much. “Drink the medicine quickly, it’s good for your health.” Hugo had no choice but to pick up the bowl and down it in one go. I felt bitter just watching him, but he didn’t even frown, as if he was used to it. “Ah—that’s more like it. Get your body strong and healthy, so you can hurry up and have children!” Hugo, who was wiping his mouth, started coughing, his face suddenly turning unpleasant. “Grandma, you… you haven’t believed those online rumors, have you?” As a bystander who knew more than the general public, I knew Hugo wasn’t lame at all, he was actually… hmm!

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My sister has always been strange. She often tells me that her future self has called her on the phone. Everyone thinks she’s gone mad. Only I understand that she’s not lying. 0 In elementary school, my sister was the tallest in her class, so she often helped the teacher maintain discipline. One day, a new student transferred to their class. His name was “Stinky”. The teacher publicly instructed the class, saying that Stinky had been in a car accident and suffered brain damage that hadn’t fully healed. She encouraged everyone to take extra care of him. The students all chorused “Okay,” but undercurrents were already stirring beneath the surface. The teacher’s well-intentioned instructions had fully activated the “evil” in some people’s hearts. Now everyone knew that Stinky was a mentally challenged child. From then on, he was subjected to all sorts of “special care”. Some people secretly poured urine into his water bottle and tricked him into drinking it; Others dragged him into a group of girls and publicly pulled down his pants; Some spread Super Glue on paper and stuck it to his back, with “I’m a retard” written in red ink. Perhaps Stinky really was mentally challenged. In the face of these personal insults, he seemed as if nothing had happened and still came to school happily every day. My sister, being righteous, saw how terribly Stinky was being bullied and used her height advantage to stand up for him multiple times. Little did she know that after that, it was as if she had opened Pandora’s box. 0

Sewing needles were stuffed into the apple flesh of the apple my sister kept in her desk drawer; When she opened her backpack, a nest of live cockroaches crawled out from the lining; A bloody sanitary pad appeared in her lunchbox; From time to time, she received notes written in red ink, filled with obscenities. My sister completely broke down. When the teacher found out about the situation, she was furious and didn’t hesitate to suspend classes to investigate the truth. But the whole class remained silent, and the investigation reached a deadlock. Later, the class president came up with an idea to use anonymous voting to let everyone report the culprit. The voting results came out, and Stinky received almost all the votes. The teacher opened his pencil case on the spot and found a whole pack of sewing needles inside. There was a nest of cockroaches kept in a plastic box in his backpack, two unopened packages of sanitary pads, and several pornographic magazines. After Stinky was caught, the classmates began to discuss his other dirty behaviors. Someone revealed that during morning exercises, Stinky would secretly run back to the classroom and lick my sister’s cup. Someone else said that after school, Stinky would secretly suck on my sister’s chair. Even worse, she saw Stinky staring at my sister and drooling during nap time, while touching himself down there. After hearing this news, my sister ran to the bathroom and couldn’t stop retching. For a whole month after that, my sister stayed at home and wouldn’t go anywhere, especially refusing to go to school. The homeroom teacher brought several class officers to visit my sister and told her that the school had seriously dealt with Stinky. Stinky’s parents had already transferred him to another school, and similar incidents would never happen again. After much comfort and assurance from various parties, my sister decided to return to class. Stinky was indeed gone, and life seemed to return to normal. But the psychological trauma left on my sister never healed. She often described to us what happened in her dreams. My sister always dreamed that in a pitch-black tunnel, there was a pair of men’s eyes staring at her intently. She ran forward with all her might, never reaching the end, and never escaping those eyes. Because of this dream, my sister never dared to wear attractive clothes, never dared to go out after dark, and even feared boys. But life is full of unexpected turns, and an incident during her sophomore year of high school changed her life forever. 0

That day, a typhoon suddenly hit, with dark clouds rolling and thunder booming. At five o’clock, it was as dark as midnight. As usual, dad drove to pick up my sister. But halfway there, he encountered flooding, and the car stalled. My sister waited at the school gate for a long time, and a hurried passerby knocked her phone into a puddle. The phone fell into the water and immediately went black. As it got later and later, fewer and fewer people were around. After much consideration, my sister opened her umbrella and decided to walk home by herself. The branches along the road rustled loudly, and there were fewer and fewer people on the street. My sister kept her eyes and ears open, trying to avoid any danger. Usually, my sister would take a narrow shortcut, but this time she didn’t. She chose to take the long way on the main road, wanting to avoid all possible dangers. But even so, what was meant to happen couldn’t be avoided. A man appeared behind my sister. He was about thirty meters behind her, seemingly deliberately maintaining this distance. In the reflection of a store window, my sister saw that he was wearing an all-black hooded windbreaker. He was also wearing a mask, so his face couldn’t be seen. When my sister walked forward, he also walked forward; When my sister stopped to pretend to tie her shoelaces, he also stopped and didn’t move. By then, there was no one else on the street. My sister was scared out of her wits, her limbs trembling. Around that time, there had been a series of rape and murder cases near my sister’s school, all occurring during stormy weather, with the perpetrator still at large. My sister tried to suppress her fear and keep walking, but suddenly the man sped up, and the distance between them grew shorter and shorter. Driven by a strong survival instinct, my sister mustered all her strength and ran towards a fruit store at the corner. Closing her eyes, my sister crashed through the door with her shoulder. The store owner, an old man with silver hair, was almost scared into a heart attack. My sister fell to her knees, gasping for breath. In a hoarse voice, she shouted to the old man: “Someone is following me.” The silver-haired old man’s expression immediately became serious. He got up to look outside and indeed saw a man in black, like a ghost. The old man shouted angrily at the man in black: “If you don’t leave now, I’m calling the police!” The man hesitated for a moment, then turned and left. The store owner poured my sister a cup of hot water and called to contact her family. Perhaps because of the typhoon, all communication in the area was down, and the call couldn’t go through. Seeing that my sister had calmed down somewhat, the old man offered to take her home. Who could have guessed that they would encounter an accident on the way. At another intersection, the old man suggested taking a shortcut. Before my sister could consider it, a dark figure rushed out from the side, knocking them both to the ground. My sister opened her eyes through the pain, but the dark figure had already run far away. As she turned her gaze, my sister’s body and mind instantly froze. The old man was lying on the ground, both hands clutching his throat, blood spurting between his fingers. A bolt of lightning split the sky, turning everything as bright as day. The old man’s mouth was wide open, his eyes staring fixedly at my sister, but his pupils had already dilated. My sister said she would never forget that scene. 0

After that day, my sister was admitted to the psychiatric ward. She couldn’t take the SAT, and the killer was never found. Even after my sister was discharged from the hospital, this knot in her heart remained untied. Our family wanted my sister to try going back to school, but after just two weeks, she chose to drop out. She cried and begged our parents not to make her go to school. As soon as she entered the school, she was reminded of Stinky from before, and that terrifying typhoon night. Our parents had no choice but to let my sister rest at home. But my sister’s psychological issues didn’t improve. Whenever it was windy and rainy, she would curl up in a corner wrapped in a blanket, saying strange things. Everyone thought she was talking nonsense, but only I was willing to listen to her carefully. My sister told me that she had waited for 5 years, just to make everything happen again. My sister said that in three days, there would be a typhoon and heavy rain. This typhoon would be as big as the one 5 years ago. I didn’t really believe it at first, but who would have thought that three days later, a typhoon really did hit, with dark clouds rolling and thunder booming outside. I looked at her in disbelief, asking how she knew. She told me that on this day 5 years ago, she had received a phone call. At that time, she was standing at the school gate, waiting for dad to pick her up by car. The surroundings were noisy, with the sound of the fierce wind unceasing. The phone signal was also terribly poor. A woman’s voice came through the receiver, telling my sister: “You’re going to be in danger, find someone to help you right now!” The next second, my sister’s phone was knocked into a puddle by a passerby and immediately went black. She thought it was just a prank call and didn’t take it seriously, still waiting for dad to pick her up. It got later and later, and there were fewer and fewer people. After much consideration, my sister opened her umbrella and decided to walk home by herself. Then she was followed by the man in black, then hid in the fruit store, met the old man… and then, everything that happened afterward. So… I listened quietly to her description, then asked her: “Who was the woman who called you?” “Myself,” my sister replied calmly. 0

“I can’t forget that number, it’s exactly the same as our home landline number.” I looked at the old landline phone on the wooden cabinet, several of its buttons already broken. Mom and dad had wanted to throw it away long ago, but only my sister insisted on keeping it. “If anyone dares to touch this phone again, I’ll kill myself right away!” My sister had become hysterical many times over this old phone, and our parents could only give in. I never understood why she was like this, but now I know. Maybe she had been waiting for this day all along. “If I’m not mistaken, after I make this call, I can change everything.” My sister’s hands trembled as she picked up the phone and dialed a number. “Hello, the situation is urgent now, you must do as I say!” My sister’s tone was unprecedentedly serious. “A passerby is about to rush over, hold onto your phone tightly!” “Don’t ask! Just do it!” I watched my sister’s actions from the side, not daring to breathe. My sister still looked solemn. “Good, now hold onto your phone, don’t hang up.” “What I’m about to say next is crucial, you must…” Before she could finish, my sister stopped and cursed: “Idiot!” I asked her what happened. My sister told me that her past self didn’t believe her and hung up the phone. My sister, who was angry just now, suddenly closed her eyes, as if lost in memories. The next moment, my sister suddenly looked up at me, excitedly grabbing my shoulders. I was startled by my sister’s behavior. “It changed, it really changed!” my sister said excitedly. “What happened?” “Because the phone wasn’t knocked into the puddle by the passerby 5 years ago, I called dad.” “He said the car had stalled and he couldn’t pick me up, so I didn’t wait any longer and went home with a classmate instead.” My sister rarely showed a relaxed smile. “Is that so! Then everything afterward changed too, right?” After hearing my question, my sister closed her eyes again, lost in memories. When she opened her eyes again, the smile on her face had completely disappeared. 0

“I met my best friend Nora at the school gate, she was just about to go home alone.” “Nora and I live in the same direction, she didn’t bring an umbrella, so we shared one umbrella and went home together.” “Because we didn’t have the warning from that initial phone call, we weren’t alert to our surroundings, we only remember passing by that fruit store, the old man was reading a newspaper.” “Did that old man survive later?” I asked, though I couldn’t quite understand, I still followed my sister’s train of thought. “He survived,” my sister said. I breathed a sigh of relief. But at this moment, my sister started crying. I instantly felt that things weren’t as simple as I had imagined. “Not long after passing the fruit store, Nora took another road.” “That day, the killer’s next target was Nora.” My sister’s tears kept falling. “What happened to the killer?” “They didn’t find him, it became a cold case.” Suddenly, my sister’s body shook, her eyes staring at some unknown place: “The killer was Stinky.” That elementary school classmate, the man who had plunged my sister into nightmares. After Stinky transferred schools that year, he disappeared without a trace. But the scary incidents didn’t stop. The lockers in my sister’s school changing room were often broken into, and then urine was poured inside; On the classroom windows, skull heads were drawn with red paint, it was terrifying. Everyone thought it was Stinky, only he would be psychotic enough to do these things. Every day when they entered the school, everyone was on edge. There were even rumors that Stinky had been killed and turned into a vengeful ghost to get revenge on everyone. Those who had bullied him before now had chills running down their spines. Although my sister hadn’t bullied Stinky, she was still a girl and was particularly afraid of “ghost stories”. So dad would personally pick her up and drop her off every day. After entering junior high, everyone thought they had escaped from Stinky. But after just one month of peace, something happened. According to the boarding students at the time, a lot of girls’ underwear was stolen in large quantities; There were also girls who were always followed by someone when walking on the road at night… The discipline teacher led a group of teachers to investigate collectively, but they could never find the result. Later, strange rumors appeared again: “Stinky actually didn’t die. He just completely became mentally ill, specifically following young girls, stealing their underwear, and then stalking and molesting them.” Rumors are just rumors, even if everyone was a bit scared, they still didn’t really believe it rationally. Who could have guessed that Stinky really appeared later. 0

At a corner of an alley near the school, Stinky beat someone until their head was bleeding profusely. The boy who was beaten was someone who had bullied Stinky in elementary school. The subsequent perverted rumors about Stinky were all spread by him. By the time the parents found the beaten boy, Stinky had long disappeared. The beaten boy perhaps knew he was in the wrong, and in the end didn’t report it to the police. But Stinky’s reappearance undoubtedly became a nightmare for the girls nearby. Especially for my sister. Because that day, at the corner of the alley, my sister had encountered him. At that time, his hands were covered in blood, his eyes were also blood-red, his whole body filled with killing intent. When their gazes met, both of them were stunned for a moment. Then Stinky suddenly rushed over and forcefully kissed my sister’s forehead. My sister remembered that he kissed very hard, and she smelled a strong stench of blood. Stinky didn’t really harm my sister, after kissing her he ran away without saying a word. My sister was scared half to death on the spot, stood there dazed for a long time before she reacted, then she collapsed to the ground and cried loudly. At the front of the alley corner, that boy beaten by Stinky was lying motionless on the ground, almost like he was dead. My sister told me that she would never forget those scenes. That night, my sister had nightmares repeatedly. The content of the dreams always involved a dark tunnel, being stared at fixedly by a man in black, no matter how she ran she couldn’t shake him off. My sister endured through these nightmares until her second year of junior high, and in that year, the infamous rape and murder cases happened here. A 13-year-old junior high school girl was brutally raped and murdered on her way home from school. As soon as the incident was reported, everyone thought it was Stinky who did it. That period was also the most torturous time for my sister. No matter where she went, wherever she was, she always felt a pair of eyes staring at her. My sister described to me that the feeling those eyes gave her was none other than Stinky. Wherever my sister went, there was Stinky! Fortunately, a month later, the case was solved, the culprit was an unemployed vagrant who committed the crime on impulse after seeing the girl. But my sister’s pain didn’t disappear. From then on, Stinky had become an inescapable nightmare for my sister. 0

In the room, my sister looked up at the wall clock: “There’s still time!” Then she dialed another phone call. “Hello! Listen, I’m you from five years in the future. Your best friend Nora will die in 30 minutes, only you can save her!” My sister seemed to be listening to the other side speak, paused for a moment and then continued: “In a few more steps, you need to be alert to the man in black behind you.” “That person is Stinky, your elementary school classmate.” “He’s going to commit a crime against you, you must run!” After saying this, a bolt of lightning flashed outside, and the room was as bright as day. My sister put down the phone dejectedly. I asked my sister what happened. She said the signal on the other side was cut off. Then, my sister closed her eyes again, her brows furrowed, obviously in extreme pain. I hurriedly asked, “What changes happened this time?” My sister answered me: “That day, not long after Nora and I left the school gate, a man in black indeed appeared behind us. When we passed by that fruit store, we specifically asked the old man for help. The old man was very kind and personally escorted us home.” “On the way, he also chatted with us, saying that his granddaughter was studying in another city, about the same age as us, with excellent grades, always in the top three of her grade.” “He also talked about how when he was young, conditions were poor and he had no chance to go to school, entering society early and always staying at the bottom. Now having such a good granddaughter was truly a blessing from heaven.” “When the old man said these things, his face was full of kindness.” “But in the blink of an eye, we had walked to the corner of the alley, and a dark figure suddenly jumped out from somewhere, thin in build but particularly tall.” “Under the dim streetlight, he pulled out a knife and slashed it across the old man’s throat.” “The movement was clean and swift, blood spraying two meters away.” “Nora was so scared she lost her soul, and I instinctively called out his name.” “Stinky!” “The man in black was startled and turned his head.” “Just then, a bolt of lightning struck, and I saw his face clearly.” “Cold and weathered, full of killing intent.” “It was Stinky!” “Even though we hadn’t seen each other for many years, I was still certain it was him.” “Then he forcefully kissed my forehead, so hard it seemed he wanted to suck out my brain marrow.” “I was so scared by this kiss that I forgot to resist, but Nora was the first to come to her senses, picking up her thermos and heavily smashing it against Stinky’s head.” “Perhaps Stinky was disoriented by the blow, or maybe he was afraid the commotion would attract passersby. Stinky didn’t harm us further and ran away.” “But after that day, Nora was deeply traumatized and unable to continue studying. Later she developed schizophrenia and was sent to a mental hospital by her family.” 0

At this moment, my sister’s expression was full of sadness and loss. That wasn’t the kind of world-weariness a young woman should have. I fell silent because I didn’t know what to say. Outside, the typhoon was still howling, and it had started pouring rain. The occasional flashes of lightning made the atmosphere in the room even more eerie. “Sis… are you going to call again?” I asked. My sister bit her lip, hesitating. So far, it seemed that each call was making things worse. I didn’t know if she dared to make another call. After a while, my sister said she wanted a Coke. I quickly got up and fetched a can of cold Coke from the fridge. “Hello, listen carefully, no matter what, you can’t hang up this call!” my sister said into the phone. I stood nearby holding the Coke, not daring to make a sound. “In five minutes, when you pass by the fruit store, you’ll see the store owner reading a newspaper.” “You need to run over quickly and tell him that there’s a killer outside, he must close the door and hide in the store immediately, don’t go out!” “Then you and Nora turn back and run to the nearest police station to report the case.” “Tell the police that Stinky is the serial rapist and murderer.” “Remember! Take the main road and run to the police station as fast as you can!” My sister kept the phone to her ear, her face full of anxiety. I slowly sat down, still not daring to interrupt. Suddenly my sister’s brows furrowed even tighter, she shouted into the phone: “Put the old man on, I’ll tell him!” I guessed that the fruit store owner didn’t believe this phone call. “Grandpa, listen to me first. You have a granddaughter with excellent grades, always in the top three of her grade.” “When you were young, conditions were poor and you had no chance to study. You feel you’ve never made anything of yourself. Your granddaughter is heaven’s blessing to you.” “Please believe me, I really am from five years in the future.” “The serial killer is nearby, everyone present will be in danger!” “Please close the door and hide in the fruit store, don’t come out. Nora and I will go to the police station to report the case immediately.” “But… this way you’ll be in danger too!” I saw my sister’s expression become troubled. After a moment of silence, my sister seemed to have made a decision. “If that’s the case, thank you then.” I asked my sister if the old man did as she said. My sister told me that the old man obviously believed her, and even actively offered to protect them all the way to the police station. The wind and rain were fierce along the way, making it very difficult to walk. The three of them walked very slowly. My sister kept reminding them to take the main road and be careful of what’s behind them. But the old man seemed fearless. He didn’t seem afraid of the so-called serial killer at all. Compared to the immediate danger, he was more interested in the world five years later. He asked several times about how advanced technology would be in five years, whether the serial killer would be caught, and whether more sophisticated forensic methods would emerge. Although my sister found it strange, she answered as best she could. Finally, the three of them came to the corner of the alley again, that nightmare corner.

The old man suggested taking a shortcut because the weather was too bad, and the sooner they got to the police station, the sooner they’d be safe. The shortcut was to turn into a deep, dark alley where all the streetlights were broken, pitch black. As they hesitated, the phone cut off. I saw my sister freeze there again, not coming back to her senses for a long time. “Sis? Sis? Did something happen again?” I asked, both worried and scared. The wind outside was still howling, but it had lessened somewhat, and the rain was gradually stopping. Perhaps the typhoon was about to pass. My sister woke up as if from a big dream and started dialing the phone frantically. She tried four or five times in a row, but couldn’t get through. My sister’s eyes were full of despair. “It’s over, everything’s over.” “What exactly happened?” I was concerned about my sister’s state, and also curious about what happened next. My sister’s voice was weak, but her logic was very clear. At that time, the phone was actively hung up by the old man, who turned it off before giving it back to my sister, saying it wasn’t safe to use phones during a thunderstorm. Then, the three of them took the shortcut, turning into that pitch-black alley. The small road was full of potholes, and my sister’s shoes and socks were already soaked through. The three of them continued deeper, as if walking into the throat of a giant beast. At this point, the old man’s pace became slower and slower. My sister had a bad feeling, always feeling that something was about to happen. She instinctively turned on her phone, ready to call for help at any time, while the old man had completely stopped walking. Another bolt of lightning struck, and the old man’s usual kindness was gone, replaced by a sinister expression. “Give me the phone.” The old man’s voice was eerie and terrifying, as if coming from hell. My sister was about to run away, but the old man snatched the phone first, then smashed it hard on the ground, shattering it to pieces. It turned out that when the old man turned off the phone earlier, he intentionally cut off the connection with the future. This way, what was supposed to happen in the past wouldn’t change. And naturally, no one could stop the crime he was about to commit. The old man’s sudden change of face caught my sister and Nora off guard. He pulled out red ropes from his pocket and tightly bound my sister’s hands and feet. Later, after repeatedly recalling, my sister realized that those ropes weren’t originally red, they were covered in dried blood. It was the blood of the girls who had been raped and murdered before!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295163”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #魔幻Magic #重生Reborn #校园School #惊悚Thriller #励志Inspiring