Category: English

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-in-law and I were pregnant at the same time. After giving birth, she constantly borrowed baby supplies from me. I advised her that every baby is different and needs individual care, but she mocked me for being stingy. Later, she unknowingly took some baby food from me that contained peanuts. Her child had a severe allergic reaction, with throat swelling leading to suffocation and death. In her grief-stricken state, she stabbed me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day I gave birth. “Snow, where did you put that pregnancy oil?” My husband had just returned home with a bag when Amber, my sister-in-law, barged in uninvited. Seeing her rummaging through my room, I instinctively shrank back. Just ten minutes ago, I had died at Amber’s hands. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back in the late stages of pregnancy. When we first found out we were pregnant, my mother-in-law was grinning from ear to ear, clapping her hands and saying it was a double blessing. Only after reliving this life did I realize that this was the beginning of all misfortune. “Snow, come on, help me look for it!” Amber urged impatiently, searching through my things as if she were in her own home. Taking things from me had become her habit. My nails dug into my palms as I suppressed the hatred welling up inside me, trying to keep my voice calm. “Amber, we’re out of pregnancy oil. If you like it, I can send you the link to buy it later.” She paused and turned to look at me, her tone dissatisfied: “I’m worried about the safety of that pregnancy oil, so I’m just trying to test it out for you. We’re family, why are you being so defensive?” “Besides, you’ve already bought it, why should I buy another one? Isn’t that a waste of money?” This was the excuse she always used when taking things from me. She claimed she was kindly testing things for me, but when something actually went wrong, she took my life without hesitation. Living this life again, I didn’t want to lose my life because of her penny-pinching habits. I tried to reason with her politely: “I just ran out, actually. I feel like my stretch marks have faded quite a bit lately, so I’m not buying any more for now.” Amber’s face changed, a hint of anger in her voice: “If you’re not buying any, what am I supposed to use? Surely Kevin’s not so tight on money?” I feigned confusion: “Can’t you just buy your own? Didn’t Eric just buy a BMW last week? Surely he can afford a bottle of oil.” Hearing this, Amber turned to face me, her tone boastful: “My husband can afford a BMW because I’m frugal and save money wherever I can. Not like you, spending over a hundred dollars on a bottle of oil.” I laughed inwardly. So taking things from me was your way of saving money.

Just as she finished speaking, Kevin came out of the bathroom and opened the door, catching the end of Amber’s words. Acting as if he hadn’t seen her, he handed me the bag he was carrying. A hint of tenderness spread across his face as he kissed my forehead: “You’ve been working hard, honey. I noticed you ran out of oil yesterday, so I stopped by the mall after work and bought you a new bottle. I’ll help you apply it later.” My eyes welled up, and I nuzzled against him affectionately. Actually, Kevin had never supported Amber taking things from me. It was just that I was too soft-hearted and could never refuse Amber’s requests. Kevin never blamed me for it. Instead, he started buying two of everything, worried that I wouldn’t have anything left after Amber took things. A few times when he forgot, Amber would mock him with cold sarcasm, saying he had no sense of responsibility. Causing both families to go without. Kevin was an upright person who wouldn’t argue with a woman, let alone gossip about his brother. He was left red-faced and embarrassed several times by her scolding. Even though it was Amber who was taking things from us, she made both of us hang our heads in shame. The losses I suffered in my previous life, I would pay back in full this time around. Amber had been staring intently at the shopping bag since Kevin entered. Hearing his words, she chimed in again inappropriately: “So you did buy a new one? Kevin’s so generous, willing to spend money on you.” “Let me help you open it.” She started walking towards me. I quickly covered the bag in my hands: “Actually, this is a gift for one of Kevin’s big clients. His wife is pregnant, and Kevin just closed a deal with him, so it’s a bit of a personal favor.” I winked at Kevin: “Right, honey?” Kevin immediately understood my meaning and nodded repeatedly. “That’s right, I was able to meet my target this quarter thanks to that client.” Amber frowned: “What a coincidence?” “How come when I ask to borrow something, you say it’s a gift? You’re not just trying to avoid lending it to me, are you?” I raised my voice, pretending to be angry: “Amber, how can you think that of me? When have I ever refused to give you something you asked for? How about this: I’ll give you this bottle of oil, and if Kevin doesn’t meet his sales target next quarter and doesn’t get his bonus, we’ll just borrow some money from Eric to pay the mortgage. How’s that?” Hearing that we might ask to borrow money from her family, Amber withdrew her outstretched hand. “Forget it, I’m not the kind of person who takes advantage of others.” With that, she hurriedly left, afraid we might ask to borrow money the next second. Hearing the front door close, I finally let out a sigh of relief.

Getting rid of her once doesn’t mean getting rid of her for life. Maybe it was due to pregnancy hormones, but after being reborn, I kept having nightmares. The fear of dying under a barrage of knife strikes in my previous life turned into an abyss pulling at my body every night. “Honey, wake up.” I escaped from the nightmare, cold sweat streaming down my body. Kevin’s face gradually came into focus under the bedside lamp, and I finally broke down in tears. I’m not a strong-willed person. Even after being reborn, I could only cautiously deal with Amber. So I spilled everything about my previous life to Kevin. Kevin patted my back soothingly. I cried for a long time before lifting my head from his embrace. “Do you believe me?” Rebirth is such an absurd thing to talk about, I wasn’t sure if Kevin would look at me strangely. Kevin sighed and wiped the sweat from my forehead. “The branch in Sun City has sent transfer orders several times. I’ve been refusing because I was worried about you traveling while pregnant.” “Since that’s the case, let’s move!” The next day, Amber came knocking on our door early in the morning. I opened the door groggily to see Amber reaching out her hand to me. “Give me your car keys. My brother says he wants to go on a road trip.” “Oh, and the gas tank is full, right?” I was still a bit dazed from just waking up. Seeing no response from me, Amber walked right in and sat on our couch, shoes and all. “What are you waiting for? Hurry up and give them to me.” I suddenly remembered that in my previous life, Amber had borrowed my car too. Her brother had just graduated from college and was clamoring to go on a road trip to Xinjiang with his classmates. Because I was pregnant and didn’t have much chance to drive, I simply lent it to her. But I never expected Amber to be so presumptuous. Not only did she make me fill up the gas tank, but she also repeatedly asked me to transfer money to her brother for gas during the trip, threatening to abandon the car on the road and make her brother take the high-speed rail back if I didn’t. The car was a wedding gift from my family, so I couldn’t possibly let her abandon it on the road. I had no choice but to give in and send money for gas. When her brother returned, the car was filthy and the seats were badly damaged. When I sent it to the repair shop, Amber disappeared. The next time we met, she didn’t mention compensation at all. I calmly replied: “Didn’t Eric just buy a new car?” “My husband’s car is too expensive to lend to my brother for such a long trip. Your car isn’t worth much, so it’s perfect for him to practice with.” “Don’t you have your own car?” “I need my car too. If I lend it to him, what am I supposed to drive?” I almost laughed at her words. Amber really knew how to be generous with other people’s possessions. “I can’t lend you the car. I’m planning to sell it at the used car dealership tomorrow.” This was true. After discussing moving with Kevin, I had decided to sell the car. Amber was stunned, her tone agitated: “Why are you selling the car?” She looked as if I was selling her car. “The economy’s been tough this year, and our income has dropped. I want to help lighten Kevin’s burden a bit.” “How about this then: wait until my brother gets back from his road trip before you sell it? It won’t make much difference to wait a bit longer.” She spoke reasonably, but I hadn’t forgotten. The sorry state of the car after lending it to her in my previous life meant I would have to sell it at a huge discount even if I could sell it. An idea came to me: “How about this: if your brother really needs a car urgently, I can sell it to him at a discount. What do you think?” “I bought this car for 188,000, and it only has about 10,000 miles on it. I’ll give you a friendly price of 160,000.” Amber fell silent, muttering: “Forget it, forget it. Can’t count on you for anything.” Then she turned and left our house. I watched her retreating back, feeling a sense of satisfaction welling up inside me. It turns out that refusing unreasonable requests from others feels so good!

When Kevin came home that evening, he told me he had accepted the company’s transfer order. In half a month, after handing over his work, we could leave this place. Originally, it would have been most stable for Kevin to stay local. If it weren’t for my constant yielding, it wouldn’t have fueled Amber’s arrogant behavior. From the time we first got married, when she proposed sharing the wedding venue to save money. But she used the venue I had carefully selected to hold her ceremony first. By the time Kevin and I walked down the aisle, the guests had already started to leave. Later, when I was pregnant and bought a lot of supplements due to my poor health, she naturally took some away. Time and time again, taking things from me became a matter of course. If I hadn’t been reborn, I probably would have continued to give in. The next day, just as I was about to drive the car to the used car dealership, I found several deep scratches on the body, as if made by some sharp object. A large patch of paint had also fallen off the surface. I looked around and noticed that the security camera facing the parking spot was blocked by a balloon. It was clearly planned by someone. Just yesterday I said I was going to sell the car, and today this happened. I steadied myself, holding my belly, trying to stay calm. Just as I was about to call the insurance company to report it, Amber came running from afar. When she saw the car, a flash of satisfaction crossed her eyes. “Snow, what happened to your car?” “I don’t know, someone scratched it.” She smirked, her eyes fixed on the car body: “How careless. With the car scratched like this, can you even sell it today?” Seeing her like this, I suddenly wasn’t angry anymore. I waved my hand at her: “It’s fine. Kevin installed a dashcam for safety when I got pregnant. This is clearly malicious damage. Once I send the dashcam footage to the insurance company, they’ll easily find the culprit.” Amber froze. Seeing that I was about to make a call, she panicked and pressed down on my hand: “Snow, don’t be so hasty to call the insurance company. The scratches don’t look that deep. You can just touch up the paint yourself.” I pretended to be angry and raised my voice: “Amber, what are you saying? Malicious damage to someone else’s property is a crime. It could even lead to jail time. How can I let someone like that continue to commit crimes? Besides, with the car scratched like this, I probably can’t get a good price even if I sell it.” Hearing me mention crime, Amber’s face turned even paler:

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I rushed to the hospital with homemade chicken noodle soup after my boyfriend fell ill, only to overhear his conversation with a friend: “Now that the one that got away is back, it’s time for the stand-in of three years to exit the stage, right?” “After you break up with her, let me have a go. I’ve never been with a girl like that before.” There was no expected rebuttal. Arlo’s tone was indifferent. “Sure, she’s pretty easy anyway. Just sweet talk her a bit and you can get her into bed.” That night, I discovered his secret Instagram account. It documented years of pining for his first love. Without confrontation or entanglement, I calmly booked a flight to Paris. On our third anniversary, Arlo slipped and fell at work, spraining his ankle. I rushed to the hospital after getting his call. He explained he was hurrying to the restaurant, afraid I’d wait too long, and accidentally fell. I took a few days off work to stay by his bedside and take care of him. On the day he was discharged, some friends came to visit. I went home to make chicken noodle soup, feeling reassured. The thermos in my arms held freshly made soup as I hurried back to the hospital, timing it perfectly. The door to the room was ajar. As I approached, I overheard voices inside. Arlo’s good friend Milo was patting his shoulder, his expression amused. “You didn’t have to be so excited just because Sage’s back. Rushing to pick her up from the airport and falling down the stairs?” Hearing the name “Sage”, my heart skipped a beat. She was part of Arlo’s close-knit group of friends from college – three guys and one girl. Sage was Arlo’s college girlfriend. They dated for two years before breaking up when she went abroad. Even so, everyone in their group still considered them a perfect match. I’d occasionally hear the other two guys tease Arlo about it. In their eyes, if Sage hadn’t left, there’s no way I would have ended up with Arlo. He used to always refute those comments. But this time, perhaps because I wasn’t around, Arlo remained silent. Milo was still grinning: “Now that the one that got away is back, when are you going to dump the stand-in?” “After you break up, can I go after her? I’ve never been with a girl like that.” Arlo finally looked up at this, frowning as he smacked Milo’s arm. “Sage hasn’t said anything yet. What’s the rush?” “Besides, I’m not fully recovered. I still need her to take care of me at home.” My ears were ringing. After the initial shock came a numb daze. Milo didn’t seem to care much. He casually peeled an orange I had bought. “She looks so innocent, but you always tell me how wild she is in bed.” “I’m really curious about that contrast.” I stood there clutching the warm thermos, in the warm hospital room, yet felt like I’d been plunged into ice water. I never imagined my boyfriend of three years would disparage me like this behind my back. Arlo’s voice came through the door, cold and devoid of any warmth: “If you want to pursue her, go ahead. She’s desperate for love anyway, easy to get.” “I just had to sweet talk her a bit back then, and I got her into bed.” My breath caught, a knife twisting in my chest. I heard the two of them chuckling softly in the room, and suddenly felt nauseous. I covered my mouth and ran to the bathroom, retching a few times as tears streamed down my face. So the man I’d loved deeply for three years only saw me as a replacement for the one that got away. I thought he just didn’t love me as much, but I never imagined he despised me to this extent behind my back. He not only didn’t love me, but didn’t even see me as a person. To him, I seemed no different than trash on the street. As the illusion shattered, I could hardly believe the man I wanted to spend my life with could be so despicable at his core. Looking back, Arlo’s friends always felt free to joke about him and other women right in front of me. Who knows how they talked about me behind my back. When his friends came over, they always treated me like a maid. And his friends disrespecting me was essentially done with his permission and encouragement. He only put on an act of being upright in front of me. I wiped away my tears and threw the chicken noodle soup I’d spent two hours making into the trash. The thought of breaking up had never been so clear as in this moment. When I walked into the hospital room, I had mostly steadied my emotions. Arlo frowned when he saw me return empty-handed, clearly displeased: “Didn’t you say you were going home to make soup for me? Why did you come back empty-handed?” Milo chimed in. “Yeah Zinnia, Arlo was just telling me how thoughtful you are.” Milo had a look of anticipation as he added meaningfully: “Zinnia, you might not have many chances left to make soup for Arlo.” I instinctively looked at Arlo, but saw he had no intention of stopping Milo. I guess now that Sage was back, he wanted to dump me right away. Arlo wasn’t even bothering to pretend anymore, or maybe he wanted to “punish” me a bit for my “disobedience”. I remained silent, my eyes fixed on Arlo. This was the man I had loved deeply for three years. I used to think that even if Arlo didn’t love me enough, my love for him would be sufficient. Or maybe one day he would be moved by my devotion? But everything was mocking how naive I had been. “It didn’t turn out well today. I drank it all myself.” I smiled, picking up the lightest bag as I hurried out of the room. “Let’s pack up and go home.” I no longer wanted to lug all the luggage like a servant, as I had always done before. The atmosphere was cold on the way home. Arlo was still angry with me. But I had no intention of appeasing him. I needed time to soothe my own emotions too. As soon as we got home, Arlo’s other friend Ryan showed up. He was carrying a cat in his arms, grinning as he barged in. I’ve had severe cat allergies since childhood. Startled, I covered my nose and backed away. “Arlo, didn’t you tell them I’m allergic to cats?!” I frowned, staring intently at the ragdoll cat in Ryan’s arms, not daring to let my guard down for a moment. When I was little, I accidentally hugged a neighbor’s cat and ended up in the hospital for a whole week. “Zinnia, why are you so delicate?” Before Arlo could speak, Ryan rolled his eyes at me. “This is Sage’s ragdoll cat. It’s super expensive, imported from abroad. I begged her for days to let me bring it over to play with.” “Zinnia Wilson, don’t be so inconsiderate.” Arlo had been unhappy with my attitude, feeling he’d lost face in front of his friend. Now he finally found an outlet for his frustration. His expression was icy. “It’s just a cat, it’s not going to kill you, is it?” He no longer hid his disdain for me, even trying to shove the cat Ryan was holding into my arms. “I’m going to break you of this habit. What’s the big deal about a cat?” Arlo knew full well how severe my allergic reactions could be, but at this moment he didn’t care about me at all. I kept dodging as Arlo kept advancing. The ragdoll cat, its neck pinched painfully by Arlo, let out a sharp cry and lunged at me out of control. Even though I reacted immediately, the cat’s claws still left a mark on my neck, and I inhaled a mouthful of cat fur. Half a minute later, I started having difficulty breathing, my heart racing, and breaking out in a cold sweat. “Quick… call an ambulance.” Arlo scoffed: “Zinnia Wilson, stop pretending.” It was Ryan who noticed my face growing increasingly pale and spoke up. “Arlo, Zinnia doesn’t look like she’s faking. We should call 911 quickly!” In the moment of hesitation, I collapsed heavily to the ground. Before losing consciousness, I saw Arlo’s panicked expression as he, Ryan and Milo scrambled to call an ambulance. When I woke up, I was alone in a dark hospital room. Because of their so-called prank, I had nearly gone into shock and been rushed to the hospital. And now there wasn’t a single person by my side. A nurse came in and turned on the lights, helping me change my IV drip. “Your cat allergy symptoms are extremely severe. You absolutely must avoid contact with cats in the future.” I smiled bitterly and asked: “Nurse, may I ask when the people who brought me in left?” “You mean those three men?” The nurse frowned. “They left once they knew your life wasn’t in danger.” Her expression was one of disbelief: “Weren’t they just strangers who happened to help?” I forced a smile: “One of them is my boyfriend.” “Though not for much longer.” I opened my phone to see a message from Arlo. “We went out for dinner. If you’re fine, just go home on your own.” Milo had posted on Instagram 20 minutes ago. “So happy to reunite with old friends!” The photo showed the four of them, with Arlo gazing lovingly at the girl beside him. He and Sage seemed to be looking at each other adoringly, their eyes full of undisguised affection. Looking at this photo, I finally couldn’t hold back my tears, my chest aching to the point of suffocation. At this point, I had no reason left to deceive myself. The person Arlo truly liked was Sage. To him, if Sage was willing to come back to him, I would lose all value. I suddenly remembered that Arlo would often type on Instagram, but I had never seen him post anything. A possibility arose in my mind, and I searched for clues in his social media accounts. Arlo’s Instagram was empty, but I found an account called “Remembering Her” in his following list. With trembling hands, I clicked on it and found that the IP matched. This user had been updating continuously for six years, with hundreds of dense posts. It was like I had accidentally opened Pandora’s box. The contents inside left me speechless. It was all about Sage, every word and line filled with suppressed love and obsession. The account started as a record of their romance, and later became Arlo’s endless pining for Sage. “November 9, 2021: I’m with someone else now. I won’t wait for you anymore.” That was the day I don’t know how many times I had actively confessed to him, and Arlo finally agreed to be with me. It turns out it wasn’t because he was moved by me, but because Sage had left the country that day. “March 10, 2022: I slept with someone else. It’s your fault for dating other people.” I remember Arlo was drunk that night, clinging to me and not letting me leave. In the end, he sweet-talked me into sleeping with him. “May 16, 2023: Are you really not coming back? I hate you. I’ll never forgive you!” That year, Arlo held me tight and took out a diamond ring from his pocket to put on my finger. He looked at me tenderly and promised: “Zinnia, I will marry you.” I took a deep breath, not having the courage to read on. I scrolled directly to the most recent update, which was from not long ago: “I’ve lost to you again. After all these years, I still can’t let go. I will always love only you.” The accompanying photo was of the two of them together. They were holding hands tightly, smiles of happiness on their faces. Tears fell uncontrollably, dripping onto my phone screen and blurring my vision. The deception and betrayal cut me to the core, leaving my heart bleeding. It turns out that throughout our three years together, not a moment of Arlo’s love belonged to me. Young love burns hot and true, persisting for many years. Arlo was willing to overcome all obstacles, just to have Sage again. Even though she had left him for so many years, abandoned him, he still gladly offered up his heart. But what about me? My whole body shook as realization dawned. No wonder Arlo never argued with me – he simply didn’t care. No wonder Arlo never cared about my state – I just wasn’t important to him. No wonder he got so excited he fell down the stairs and broke his leg – it wasn’t because he was rushing to see me, but because Sage’s sudden return had thrown his heart into chaos. I barely steadied my thoughts and took screenshots of everything, preserving the evidence. This is for the best. At least I won’t soften my resolve now. If I hadn’t accidentally overheard him talking about me like that behind my back today, if I hadn’t found his secret Instagram account, I might have been kept in the dark my whole life, mistakenly thinking he had truly given up on the one that got away. I’ve now seen through Arlo’s cultured facade to his filthy inner self, and learned that all those intimate moments of love were just an illusion. Now there’s no reason left to continue this relationship. At that moment, my boss called. I took a deep breath, trying not to let anything show in my voice. “Zinnia, there’s an opportunity to work at our Paris branch office. I wanted to ask if you’d be interested.” “You’d start directly as a director. It’s quite a rare opportunity.” My boss tried to persuade me. Actually, this wasn’t the first time a promotion opportunity had landed on me. Last time, because I wanted to settle down with Arlo, I righteously refused the chance to go to France, even though it had been a dream I once cherished. But now, there was no reason left worth giving up my dreams for. “Thank you for this opportunity. I’d be happy to work in Paris.” The determination to break up had never been so strong. My brain was urgently sending signals of self-preservation. Even if my heart was being cut to pieces, I was willing to endure this pain. After hanging up, I immediately booked a flight to Paris for a few days later. After being discharged, I went straight home to pack all my belongings. During this time, I didn’t run into Arlo. He was probably still busy accompanying Sage. The next day, sitting in the taxi to the airport, I saw Arlo’s secret Instagram account had updated last night: “Meeting again, emotions beyond control.” The photo showed him and Sage holding hands. I calmly scrolled past, but my heart still ached dully. Arlo suddenly texted me, probably having noticed the changes at home. “You were discharged yesterday? Where are you?” I didn’t respond. He called countless times, all of which I hung up on. Until one minute before boarding the plane, an unknown number called. I answered, hearing Arlo’s anxious voice: “Zinnia Wilson, where did you go? When did you come home?” I laughed silently, calmly replying. “Arlo, I know Sage is back.” “She’s the one you truly love, right?” I smirked self-mockingly, mercilessly exposing his scheme. “Now that the one that got away is back, it’s natural for the stand-in to exit the stage.” The boarding announcement came at just the right moment. I heard Arlo gritting his teeth as he demanded: “Zinnia Wilson, where exactly are you?”

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It was a stormy night. The school bus driver had called in sick, unable to take the children home. As the class advisor, I remained unmoved as the children cried and begged me to drive them home. In my previous life, I had given in to my daughter’s pleas and chose to drive the children home myself. As an inexperienced driver, I had managed to successfully deliver each child to their home, trembling with nervousness the entire time. The next day, the entire class collectively boycotted school. Not a single student showed up. A crowd of parents stormed the school, accusing me of failing to protect their children as the class advisor. My beaten colleagues vented their frustrations on me. “Didn’t you promise to get the children home safely? Why have they all disappeared?” they demanded. “Child trafficker! You deserve to die!” someone shouted. I desperately tried to defend myself, but the police arrived with criminals in tow who accused me of being their accomplice. Even my own daughter tearfully stood up and accused me of violently abusing the children. I stared at my daughter in shock as she produced a surveillance video. The footage showed me wielding a cane, bringing it down hard on the children as they cried out in pain. The people around me angrily denounced me as a monster. My husband even provided a video of me privately cursing the children. I found myself universally condemned. Despite multiple appeals to prove my innocence, the surveillance footage and videos nailed me to the pillar of shame. I was immediately sentenced to death. When I opened my eyes again, I had somehow returned to that fateful rainy night. My daughter, Tiana Quinn, looked at me pleadingly. “Mom, Miss Yolanda said only you can drive the school bus. Please help my classmates, okay?” Outside the office, over twenty children stood pitifully in the rain, their eyes glistening with tears. They begged, “Mrs. White, please help us. Otherwise, we’ll have to stay at school in the rain all night.” I couldn’t help but think of the tragic outcome from my previous life, my body trembling uncontrollably. I shook my head repeatedly. “No, I’m just the class advisor. I don’t have approval to use the school bus. I can’t possibly drive it.” The children’s expressions dimmed. They hung their heads dejectedly. My office colleagues finally couldn’t bear to watch any longer. “Mrs. Brown, the children are getting soaked. Who cares about approval at a time like this?” one said. “Exactly! How can you be so cold-hearted as their class advisor?” another chimed in. “If I knew how to drive, I’d definitely take the children home myself,” a third added. A chorus of complaints and accusations suddenly flooded my ears. I was momentarily speechless, my gaze suddenly fixed on the window outside. My husband, Ezra Quinn, came rushing in, the smile on his face instantly turning to concern when he met my eyes. “Your school bus driver has a high fever and can’t pick up the kids. We’ve coordinated with our side,” he explained. “We can’t spare anyone from our company at the moment, so I went ahead and got approval from your school leaders. Can you fill in for now?” I stared hard at Ezra. That was awfully quick. My daughter instantly brightened. “That’s great, Mom! Now that you have approval, you can take my classmates home, right?” I still refused. Looking at Ezra, I said apologetically, “I only recently learned to drive. I’m afraid something might happen with such a big bus full of students.” “Why don’t you do it? I remember you know how to drive the school bus too.” Ezra’s expression froze. When he recovered, he shook his head repeatedly. “No, no, I haven’t driven a big vehicle in over a decade. It would be truly irresponsible if I tried.” His expression gradually turned strange. “I know you’ve never liked these kids much, but you’re their class advisor. It’s your responsibility to get them home safely.” My heart skipped a beat. Seeing Ezra about to take out his phone, my eyes darkened. “I’ll make sure to get the children home safely,” I said. My husband instantly relaxed. He smiled and picked up our daughter. “Then I’ll take our daughter home first to wait for you.” Tiana’s face lit up with a big smile. “Bye, Mom!” That strange feeling crept over me again. Nevertheless, I led the group of children onto the bus. The bus was covered in cobwebs, looking as if it hadn’t been driven in years. As I sat in the driver’s seat, a stinging sensation spread across my arm. The next moment, a rash of tiny bumps erupted all over my skin. I paused, looking at my exposed arm. In my previous life, the same thing had happened when I boarded the bus – a rash of tiny bumps appeared, and I developed a fever while on the bus. I had assumed it was from getting rained on. After a moment’s thought, I immediately called an old classmate. The children’s impatient voices came from behind me: “Mrs. Brown, when can we leave?” I snapped back to reality. I turned to face them with a smile. “Don’t worry, everyone. I promise I’ll get you all home safely!” Cheers erupted from behind me as I decisively drove the bus in the opposite direction. At the hospital entrance, I stopped the bus. My old classmate hurried over to take over. “I’ve got the students from here. You go on ahead,” he said. Twenty minutes later, I received a call from Ezra. He sounded like he’d taken the wrong medication: “Why haven’t you delivered everyone yet?” “Don’t you know all the parents have been calling?” “Where are you right now?” I looked up at the emergency room sign and replied curtly, “Hospital emergency room.” He paused, then said urgently, “I’m coming to find you!” The call ended with just a busy signal. Coming out of the emergency room, I ran right into Ezra. His face was grim as he launched into a tirade: “Which is more important, the kids or you? Not taking the children home first is literally gambling with their lives!” “Letting someone like you be a teacher – they must be blind!” My heart sank lower and lower. I had heard such words countless times before. “Lark Brown, you’re a disgrace to the teaching profession!” “You’re so useless, don’t corrupt those children!” “The school leaders must be blind to let someone like you be a teacher!” Each word stabbed at my heart. I had once fallen into depression and anxiety because of such words, questioning myself over and over again. I had taken antidepressants and anti-anxiety medication by the handful. Hearing it now, I just found it somewhat amusing. I gave Ezra a cold look. His expression froze. He seemed somewhat embarrassed and angry. “You’re glaring at me now! Am I not telling the truth?” he demanded. “Look at yourself! How did you insult those children behind their backs?” “You even said you’d sell the children! I bet you meant it!” His heated words drew quite a crowd. The phone video clearly transmitted my abusive language to everyone’s ears. The onlookers grew furious. “What kind of teacher are you? The children have become a burden in your eyes?” “You don’t deserve to be a teacher!” “Which school do you teach at? We’ll make sure to spread the word!” The accusations left me feeling suffocated. The world seemed to sway before my eyes. In my daze, I thought I saw Ezra smile. Then he bowed deeply to the crowd. “I’m terribly sorry for upsetting everyone.” “But the school bus driver is sick today, and my wife is the only one who can drive the big bus.” “Please give my wife a chance. Let her take those children home first.” I unconsciously followed Ezra’s lead and bowed as well. As I bent over, a child nearby crashed into me hard, knocking me to the ground. I suddenly came to my senses. Although the crowd was still angry, when they heard there were children waiting for me to take them home, they didn’t rebuke me further. I vaguely heard someone say, “It’s a good thing this teacher’s husband is sensible. Otherwise those poor children would really be in trouble.” Ezra looked at me imperiously. “Hurry up and go take the children home. What are you standing around for?” I didn’t move. Ezra’s expression became strangely bewildered. I finally explained, “I have a fever. If I force myself to drive, an accident could easily happen.” “I can’t be responsible for so many children’s lives!” With that, Ezra’s face darkened completely. One of his fists was clenched tight, while the other hand was hidden behind his back. After a moment, he sneered, “Still pretending to be sick? I bet you’re just trying to meet up with someone.” “After all, you have a record of contacting suspects.” My husband kept producing evidence to corroborate my alleged contact with suspects. The crowd’s chatter had already nailed me as a child trafficker. Someone even called the police to arrest me. I bit my lip, not knowing how to defend myself. At some point, Yolanda had hurried over. She was soaking wet, her exposed skin flushed red. When she reached me, she broke into a fit of heavy coughing, doubling over. After a long while, she finally straightened up. With reddened eyes, she bowed deeply to me. “Mrs. Brown, please don’t be angry. I’m so sorry,” she said. “It’s my fault for getting sick. I’ll take over the school bus now and get the children home safely.” Her nasally voice immediately swayed everyone’s sympathy towards her. “Is this the school bus driver?” “Look what this teacher has reduced the poor driver to.” “If you ask me, she’s just jealous that this driver is younger and prettier than her. She wants to make her lose her job.” There was a hint of triumph in Yolanda’s eyes. She asked, “Mrs. Brown, where are the children? Can you take me to pick them up first?” “I just went to the school bus and saw it was empty—” With those words, everyone exploded. They all stared at me in disbelief: “You really sold the children?” Yolanda also looked incredulous, her eyes wide and tearful. “Mrs. Brown, how could you do this?” “Those children adored you the most!” They didn’t give me a chance to respond. Several parents rushed over. With bloodshot eyes, they grabbed my collar: “Lark Brown! What did my child ever do to you that you had to sell them?” “I always thought you were a good teacher! I was so wrong about you!” With that, a fist mercilessly slammed into my eye. I winced in pain, frowning deeply. The person holding me clearly had no intention of letting go. They only wanted their children back now: “Lark Brown, give me back my child!” “He’s my only child, you’re destroying our whole family!” Behind me, an old woman’s heart-wrenching cries rang out with genuine emotion. For the sake of her grandchild, she knelt down before me. She kept kowtowing, begging: “Mrs. Brown, if it’s money you want, I’ll give you as much as you ask. I’m begging you, please give my grandchild back to me.” At this moment, my throat felt painfully constricted. The people attacking me kept beating me, while the old woman kept crying and shouting. The scene was utter chaos. “Grandma, please get up! This teacher with no ethics doesn’t deserve your kneeling!” someone urged. “Get up quickly, there are so many of us here. We won’t let a child trafficker escape!” “That’s right, how could we let one person get away with trafficking children?” The old woman ignored all this. She cried and shouted for me to release her grandson. Her forehead was already bleeding. The crowd’s anger towards me grew heavier and heavier. Until I was beaten within an inch of my life. Someone grabbed me by the collar and lifted me up. “Come on, I’m taking this child trafficker to the police station. I want to see how long she can keep acting tough!” We had only reached the hospital entrance when a group of police officers blocked our path. “Who is Lark Brown?” one asked. “Someone reported you for human trafficking crimes!” “Officer, she’s right here!” someone called out. I was thrown to the ground. At last I could finally catch my breath. After a long while, I managed to climb to my feet with a bitter smile. “Officer, I reported myself. I may have been involved in human trafficking.” Someone finally couldn’t hold back: “If you were involved then you were involved, what do you mean ‘may have been’!” “The police are already here, are you still trying to deny it?” “What? You think using vague words means you don’t have to face legal consequences?” Angry, they kicked me. I staggered and fell to the ground. The police officer swept his gaze over the crowd and said coldly, “Calm down!” He looked down at me and had someone help me up. “What happened? Explain yourself!” After a long while, I shook my head to clear the double vision. “I was poisoned which caused hallucinations. I was going to sell the children.” The old woman rushed over and grabbed my collar, demanding: “You really sold the children? Are you even human!” “Poisoned? Do you look like someone who’s been poisoned?” Ezra gave a cold laugh. I didn’t respond to him, but stood up and handed the medical report I had gotten from the emergency room to the police officer. “You can take a look. The poison wasn’t severe, but enough to cause a high fever and hallucinations.” “In an unclear state of mind, I may have acted in ways that went against my true intentions.” The police officer looked shocked as he examined the report. After staring at it for a long time, he said, “We’ll thoroughly verify the information you’ve provided.” “We’ll take you home first.” The crowd stared at the police officer in shock. “Officer, she sold children. Why can she go home?” “Shouldn’t she be taken to the station at a time like this?” Ezra panicked and hurriedly blocked the police officer’s path.

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When my family’s house was sold for redevelopment, we received a windfall of $1.2 million. I planned to use the opportunity to take my parents on a road trip, but my girlfriend stopped me. “I need $300,000 for a wedding settlement, $600,000 for a house for my brother, and $50,000 for a new car for my parents,” she demanded. “Whatever’s left, we’ll split it after the wedding.” I laughed, packed up, and took my parents on that road trip anyway. Along the way, I found a girlfriend with actual values. Content When our old family home in Hickory Ridge, North Carolina, was sold, we didn’t just receive a couple of new properties in exchange—we also got a windfall of $1.2 million. My parents, ever practical, decided to transfer half of the money—$600,000—into my account. “You’re working now, Colton,” Mom said calmly. It’s time for you to learn how to manage money. Don’t waste it on anything stupid like gambling or drugs; the rest is up to you.” I practically jumped for joy, hugging my mom and peppering her with kisses. “You guys are the best parents ever! Don’t worry, I’ll use it wisely. No reckless spending, I promise!” With newfound excitement, I called my girlfriend, Amber Winslow, and treated her to dinner and a movie. On a whim, I even bought her that high-end designer bag she’d been eyeing for months. Amber’s eyes sparkled with delight. “What’s the occasion? It’s not my birthday, and it’s not a holiday. Why are you suddenly showering me with such an expensive gift?” Unable to contain myself, I showed her the bank notification of the transfer. “My parents gave me a huge chunk of money from selling our old house. I’ve officially upgraded from middle-class Colton to the future heir of the Hayes estate!” Amber took my phone and stared at the zeros in my account, counting them repeatedly, her face frozen in shock. Although my family has always been financially stable, I never had this money. It was overwhelming but in a good way. I was too wrapped up in the joy to notice Amber’s expression subtly shift. “I’m thinking of buying a luxury RV,” I said, grinning. “I’d love to take my parents on a road trip across the country. They’ve worked hard all their lives; it’s time to treat them to some well-deserved relaxation.” Amber’s cheerful mood seemed to falter. “An RV? A road trip? That must cost a fortune.” “Not really,” I replied after thinking for a moment. “A decent one will probably set me back about $80,000.” “Eighty thousand dollars?!” she exclaimed, her voice rising in disbelief. Her reaction puzzled me. Sensing my confusion, Amber forced a smile. “Babe, maybe skip the RV. Your parents could join a local tour group for a few days instead. Why spend so much?” She linked her arm with mine, her tone turning sweet. “Think about it. An RV is so expensive, and it’s not like you’ll use it year-round. Most of the time, it’ll just sit in the driveway collecting dust. Wouldn’t it make more sense to give me that money instead?” Her reasoning started to put me on edge, but I calmed myself down, assuming she was worried about wedding expenses. “Amber,” I said, “my parents already set aside money for our house and the wedding long ago. This windfall has nothing to do with those plans.” Amber huffed, crossing her arms. “It’s not just about me. My brother Lance is getting engaged soon, and his fiancée is demanding a $140,000 engagement settlement plus a house in Washington, D.C.’s top school district.” “You know my family can’t afford that, but with this money, you could help. Just $200,000 for the settlement and the house, another $50,000 for a car for my parents, and you can let me manage the rest. I’ll be handling our finances after the wedding anyway.” Amber added in a muttered tone, “And my parents have never been on vacation either. How about you take them along, too?” Her words carried an unspoken assumption—that the money was hers to claim. I stared at Amber’s expectant face and remained silent. I wasn’t the type to judge someone based on material needs. I wouldn’t have stayed with Amber all these years if I had. We’d been together since high school. Back then, she was the smart girl in our class, and our teacher assigned us seats together so she could help me with my grades. Her patience and gentle smile had left a lasting impression. Amber’s family wasn’t well-off—I knew that. I’d even paid her college tuition and living expenses for four years because her parents couldn’t afford it. Without my help, she likely would’ve been forced into an early marriage with some middle-aged bachelor in exchange for a meager settlement to support her brother, Lance. I even accompanied her to legally change her name from “Sherry Winslow” to something less old-fashioned. Over the years, I never let her spend a dime when we were together. Every date, every outing—it was always on me. And while I indulged her, she grew accustomed to being pampered. When Amber graduated, I persuaded my parents to help her get a job she’d never qualified for. But now, looking back at it all, I wondered if I’d gone too far. Gently withdrawing my arm from hers, I said in an amused tone, “Amber, your brother getting married isn’t my responsibility. Why should I buy him a house?” Her expression darkened. “Colton, are you stupid? My brother will be your brother once we’re married. I’ll quit my job, stay home, cook for you, clean for you, give you a big family, and spend the rest of my life paying you back. How’s that for a deal?” What a calculation. I’d give her family everything, and she’d repay me with her “loyalty.” When I didn’t respond, her patience snapped. Her voice softened again as if coaxing me. “Babe, if you love me, you’ll love my family too. I’ll always be a good wife and mother; when my family’s doing well, it reflects well on me. Isn’t that important?” Her demands were absurd. I didn’t care what she said. “I’m not giving you the money,” I stated firmly. Amber exploded. “Colton Hayes, don’t push me! Are you seriously refusing to buy my brother a house? After everything I’ve done for you, my years with you mean nothing? Now that you’ve got money, you’re just dumping me?” The argument escalated in the middle of the mall, drawing stares from passersby. I hated causing a scene. I tried to lead her somewhere private to talk, but she yanked her arm away and angrily threw her new designer bag on the floor. Picking it up, I said, “If you don’t want it, I’ll give it to my mom. She’ll appreciate it more.” Without a backward glance, I walked away. Amber’s shouts followed me, accusing me of ingratitude. “You’ll regret this, Colton! After everything I sacrificed for you, you owe me!” But I didn’t look back.

Back home, I collapsed onto the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. The thrill of newfound wealth had evaporated entirely. I reflected on my years with Amber. When it wasn’t about her family, she was the perfect girlfriend—kind, attentive, and warm. She was everything I’d ever wanted. But her obsession with her parents and brother, her greed, and her entitlement—it was too much. Later that night, she texted me, asking if I was still angry. Seeing her familiar profile picture, I hesitated. For a moment, it felt like the Amber I loved was back. After typing and deleting several replies, I finally settled on two words: “Not angry.” Amber sent a picture of a dish she’d just learned to cook. “Practice makes perfect. I’ll make it for you soon,” she wrote cheerfully, as though our earlier argument hadn’t happened. Maybe she’d realized her mistake. I decided to test her. I sent her photos of two luxury RVs. “Which one do you think I should buy?” I asked. Minutes later, Amber replied with a string of ellipses. I followed up, “I’m leaning toward the first one. It’s spacious, fuel-efficient, and stylish. Perfect for road trips.” Barely two seconds after I sent the text, my phone rang. As soon as I picked up, Amber’s furious voice erupted. “Are you deaf? Didn’t I tell you not to waste money on an RV? Your parents don’t deserve it! And how dare you make decisions without consulting me? That money is ours for our future, and you’re being selfish!” I didn’t let her finish. “Let me remind you, Amber, we’re not married yet. That money isn’t ‘ours.’ It’s mine. And I don’t owe your family anything. If they want a house or a car, they can buy it themselves.” Amber hung up on me mid-sentence. When I tried calling back, I realized she’d blocked me. She always did this after arguments—blocking me on everything until I showed up with gifts and apologies. This time, I decided to let it be.

Early in the morning, I brush my teeth, prepare, and sit at the table for breakfast. I couldn’t help but notice something was off with Mom. She kept her head down, barely looked at me, and said nothing. Her demeanor felt unusually downcast. “Mom, what’s wrong? Your eyes are red. Did Dad do something to upset you?” I asked, concerned. Forcing a smile, she quickly wiped her eyes. “No, sweetie. It’s nothing. I just got a little something in my eye while cooking.” I glanced at the table. Breakfast was takeout from a diner—scrambled eggs, hash browns, and sausage biscuits—and there was no sign of cooking anywhere. I shifted my gaze to Dad, who sighed and handed me Mom’s phone. “Take a look,” he said quietly. It was a text from Amber Winslow sent late last night. The message was blunt, almost hostile: She demanded that I use the family money on her family—her brother, her parents, and their needs—or else she wouldn’t “respect” my parents after marriage. The words stung with entitlement and disdain. My parents had never approved of Amber. They warned me about her initially, but because they loved me and respected my choices, they eventually stopped voicing their concerns. Over the years, Amber never visited them or even sent a holiday card. And now, this was the first time she’d reached out—just to make such an offensive demand. Mom spoke softly, “Colton, as long as you’re happy, your dad and I don’t mind. You decide to make.” I stared at my parents. Their once-dark hair now had streaks of gray, and the lines on their faces seemed more profound than I remembered. We’d always been a tight-knit family, yet here we were, fractured by Amber’s selfishness. My parents had sacrificed so much to make my life easier. How could I let them suffer the indignity of being mistreated by her and her family? Amber’s audacity before marriage was already unbearable. If we tied the knot, her family would surely drain us dry. “Delete the message,” I told my mom. “Block her number. You don’t need to deal with this nonsense.” Mom hesitated for a moment but nodded. She trusted me to handle it. A few days later, Amber finally cracked. Unblocking me, she said, “Have you realized your mistake these past few days?”

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Because of a jar of chocolate, I asked Vivienne Shaw for a divorce. It was in the seventh year of our marriage. She looked at me, annoyed. “I’m really tired, can you stop making a fuss?” I calmly looked at her, then picked up what I had prepared long ago: “This is the divorce agreement.” While doing laundry, I found half-eaten chocolate in Vivienne’s coat pocket. I froze. How could she have something like this? Vivienne had always been strict about her appearance, working in the fashion industry. To keep her skin clear and her figure slim, she avoided sugar religiously. She wouldn’t even eat many carbs, let alone something as sugary and indulgent as a jar of M&M’s Minis. I remembered finding a small packet of cookies in the car a few days ago. She said a coworker gave it to her. But all her coworkers knew she avoided sugar. Why would anyone give her cookies? After hesitating for a long time, I finally went down to the garage to check the car’s dashcam. The sound of the car door closing played, followed by a cheerful, familiar male voice: “You’re the best, Vivienne. Thanks for waiting for me.” The voice was warm, bright—pleasant to the ears. But all I felt was a chilling sensation spreading through my body, and my heart ached as if struck by a hammer. Vivienne let out a light laugh. “Everyone else is working late, aren’t you worried they’ll talk since you left early?” Jaxon, pretending to be cocky, replied, “I’m part of the new generation! Besides, everyone knows you were waiting for me. With you around, why should I care what they think?” Vivienne laughed heartily, amused by his youthful arrogance. I was suddenly reminded of when Vivienne and I used to work together, back when our marriage wasn’t public knowledge. Whenever we crossed paths in the office, she would walk right past me as if she didn’t know me at all. Whenever I brought it up, she would get impatient: “Don’t you know the company policy? If people find out about us, do you think I’ll still have a chance at a promotion?” At that time, my world revolved around Vivienne, but for Vivienne, her world was all about work. As she rose higher in her career and got busier, I ended up quitting my job to become a full-time homemaker, taking care of everything for her. But now, she didn’t seem worried about jeopardizing her promotion at all. There was a soft “pop” as Jaxon opened something. “Vivienne, have some chocolate.” Vivienne chuckled. “No thanks, kid. I don’t eat stuff like that. You go ahead.” “But I want to feed it to you!” Jaxon whined. I snapped back to reality, smiling bitterly at myself as I listened to the sound of Vivienne crunching on the M&M’s. After she finished the chocolate, she said, “Don’t eat too much. I’ll take you somewhere nice for dinner.” I turned off the dashcam. I couldn’t listen any longer. My head throbbed, and I wanted to open the window to get some fresh air, but my body felt drained, like I couldn’t even lift a finger. I thought back to the past. I used to cook all kinds of meals for Vivienne to help her eat better. Within a year, I went from being a kitchen rookie to knowing how to make dishes from several cuisines. One Thanksgiving, I made a honey-glazed ham. Vivienne didn’t get home until nearly midnight. When she saw the dish, she threw down her fork. “This is so greasy, so sweet! How am I supposed to eat this?” Then she got up and went to the bedroom, leaving me sitting alone at the dinner table, stunned. I had just wanted to make something festive for the holiday, but it ended in an argument. I knew she was stressed from work. At the time, I regretted being so careless, making her go hungry on a holiday. But I had forgotten that the table was full of dishes, not just the ham. But now, she had eaten half a jar of chocolate. Turns out, it wasn’t the sugar that was the problem. It was me. I found the divorce papers I had tucked away. I’d printed them a long time ago, but I hadn’t wanted to bring them out. I admit, I wasn’t ready to let go of our marriage. I’d liked Vivienne for so long. From the moment I first saw her, my heart raced, and she became the most beautiful color in my youth. But she had fallen for the campus heartthrob. He came from a wealthy family, and his mother didn’t approve of Vivienne. Instead, they arranged for him to marry a well-off debutante. Vivienne was heartbroken, so she settled for me, the guy who had always been by her side. I knew all of this, and I didn’t care. I kept waiting. Waiting for her to see me. Waiting for her to fall in love with me. But I failed. From the moment I saw Jaxon, I felt uneasy. He reminded me too much of the type Vivienne liked. They both had that sunny, clean-cut look, playful and lively, always the center of attention—unlike me, who was content to stand quietly in her shadow. The first time I felt something was off was when Jaxon called late one night. He was just an intern, and while they talked about work, there was nothing urgent. Why would an intern call the department director late at night instead of speaking to colleagues or other supervisors? It didn’t make sense. Vivienne was lying on the couch at the time. She had neck problems and sometimes headaches. I was giving her a massage to help her relax when she suddenly sat up, rushing to answer the phone. I could feel her excitement, and even a hint of nervousness. “Just go for it, don’t overthink it. We’re in a creative industry; you don’t need to hold back.” She listened patiently as he rambled about work. The entire time, the corners of Vivienne’s mouth lifted into a soft smile. After she hung up, she seemed in a great mood, even humming a tune while putting on a face mask. I sat there in the living room, feeling like my heart was being ripped apart. I didn’t think Vivienne intended to hurt our family at first. She tried to restrain herself. Every time Jaxon called, she kept it professional. But emotions are probably the hardest thing to control. Even if you cover your mouth, they find a way out through your eyes. Soon, her phone was always in her hand, and she started laughing to herself for no reason. She worked late more and more often. When I finally brought it up, she looked at me with disdain and said coldly, “Elliott, you’re a grown man who does nothing all day and obsesses over the smallest things. It’s pathetic.” Her words deflated me like a punctured balloon. I no longer had the courage to confront her. It wasn’t her fault, though. I had always known—I wasn’t the one being loved. But my heart hurt so much that I became numb, and in that numbness, I realized something: I deserve to be loved, too. Divorcing over a jar of chocolate might sound ridiculous. But I was tired. I didn’t want to be the loyal dog anymore. Even if no one else loved me, I could still love myself.

I took a deep breath and handed the divorce papers to Vivienne. She was at her desk, typing away on her computer, and she irritably swatted them out of my hand. “Elliott, can’t you see I’m working?” “How many times have I told you not to bother me when I’m busy—” This time, I didn’t stay silent. I cut her off: “These are the divorce papers. Look them over. If everything’s fine, just sign.” Vivienne was stunned for a moment, then she let out a mocking laugh. “Elliott, I see you’ve grown some backbone. What’s this? You think I haven’t given you enough, so now you want to push me into pampering you even more? You want to mooch off me?” I met her gaze calmly. “Did you forget? Back when we graduated, I had better options. It was you who said you needed me by your side, so I took a job at a company I didn’t even like. You excelled in your field, worked late every day, to the point where you had stomach ulcers. That’s why I quit to take care of you. How much does a live-in housekeeper in New York City cost per month? Would the money you spent on me even come close? Don’t paint yourself as a saint. It’s me, Elliott Reid, who’s been taking care of you—not the other way around.” Vivienne’s eyes widened in shock. She never expected me to say something like that. Then she swept the unsigned divorce papers to the floor in anger, yelling at me: “What the hell is wrong with you? Acting all high and mighty now? Do you think I’m too old and ugly for you, is that it? Is that why you want a divorce?” I simply replied, “The chocolate in your pocket—you ate half of it.” “What?” Vivienne’s face hardened, then suddenly, as if realizing something, her expression grew nervous. “You’re divorcing me over chocolate?” I looked at her, nodding seriously. “Yes.” I paused before adding, “Whether you agree or not doesn’t matter. If you refuse, I’ll file for divorce. I’m a stay-at-home husband, Vivienne—I’ve got all the time in the world.” Vivienne glared at me, then let out a bitter laugh. She picked up the crumpled divorce papers from the floor, signed them, and threw them back at me. “Get out!” she shouted, pointing at the door. I didn’t even look back. I turned and left. “Elliott, don’t come crawling back to me like a dog. Once you walk out that door, there’s no turning back,” Vivienne spat venomously at my back. My face flushed, my chest felt tight, and my heart throbbed with pain. I’d threatened divorce before in moments of despair, but I always backed down. I couldn’t bear to leave this home we’d built, couldn’t bear to leave the woman I had loved for so many years. She always knew where to hit me the hardest. She might forget my birthday, but she sure knew how to hurt me. I grabbed my jacket and said, “Let’s go. We’ve got time now; we can head to the courthouse.” Vivienne didn’t continue insulting me. She stood up and yelled, “Elliott, are you seriously doing this?”

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When I went back home for Thanksgiving, I discovered that my 60-year-old mother-in-law was pregnant with her third child. After finding out, she tried to manipulate me into paying for everything and helping her out. When I finally confronted them, Blake, my husband, excused his mom, saying she’s had a hard life. His true nature as a mama’s boy was revealed. They really thought they could take advantage of me. No way. I filed for divorce, leaving my husband to live with his mom for the rest of his life. Let them figure it out. At the end of the year, Blake and I hurried back to the Whitford Family Home, with our daughter, Violet, to celebrate Thanksgiving. But the moment I saw my mother-in-law, Evelyn, something felt off. She used to be around 90 pounds, but now she looked like she had easily gained more than 20 pounds. What struck me more was how drastically her attitude toward me had changed. She warmly held my hand, looked at my eight-month-pregnant belly, and asked, “Have you been getting your prenatal checkups regularly?” I thought maybe Evelyn was finally changing her cold attitude from when I had given birth the last time. Feeling touched, I replied, “Yes, I’ve done all my prenatal checkups.” Then, Evelyn asked, “I’m curious, when women get older, do they need an amniocentesis test?” Why was she asking me this out of the blue? Just then, Violet pointed at Evelyn’s belly and asked, “Grandma, is there a baby in your belly?” I quickly glanced at Evelyn’s midsection. Sure enough, her waistline had expanded noticeably. Flustered, Evelyn said, “Oh, I’m 60 years old! There’s no baby here, I’ve just put on some weight.” I sighed in relief. But when I walked into the house, I saw baby clothes, a crib, and… prenatal vitamins. I was the only pregnant woman in the house. Colton, my brother-in-law, had a girlfriend, but she wasn’t staying with us. So, who were those baby supplies for? I didn’t want to think too much about it. That night, I told Blake about my suspicions. Blake rubbed my belly and reassured me, “That’s Mom’s stuff. Prenatal vitamins are easier to absorb, and her immune system isn’t great. She’s been drinking them to boost her health. Didn’t you notice she’s gained weight?” Even though Blake had explained it away, and I could rationalize that maybe Evelyn was giving the baby stuff to someone else, I still felt uneasy. So, I started paying closer attention to Evelyn. I saw Grant, my father-in-law, place his hand on Evelyn’s belly when he came home from work, and Evelyn would shyly look down. I noticed that when Evelyn bent down to pick things up, she unconsciously protected her stomach. Even Violet mentioned that Grandma had been eating a lot of sour foods lately. All signs pointed to the fact that Evelyn, my 60-year-old mother-in-law, was pregnant. But the whole family was keeping it from me. No one wanted to tell me. During dinner one night, I asked Evelyn, “Mom, you never used to like vinegar. Why are you eating so many sour things now?” Before Evelyn could respond, Blake interrupted, “What Mom likes to eat is her business. Why are you, as her daughter-in-law, getting so nosy?” I shot Blake a look that made him go quiet. Still, without an answer from Evelyn, I couldn’t even finish my meal. I kept asking Evelyn why she liked sour foods now. Suddenly, Grant slammed his utensils on the table. “Your mother is pregnant! So what if she didn’t tell you? It’s her right to be pregnant. Does she need your permission?” Blake tried to calm me down, saying, “You shouldn’t be upset. You’re not supposed to tell anyone in the first three months of pregnancy, and that’s why Mom kept it a secret.” So, they all knew? They all knew Evelyn was pregnant, and I was left in the dark? A 60-year-old mother-in-law and I pregnant at the same time? I would be the laughingstock of the town! But I couldn’t get mad because of my own pregnancy. I took deep breaths to calm myself. After a while, I gently said to Evelyn, “Mom, you’re not even three months in yet. Maybe it’s time to consider ending the pregnancy.” Evelyn clutched her belly and shrieked, “The baby inside me is an innocent life! Why is it okay for you to have a baby but not me?” I remained calm. “Because you can’t have this baby. You’re 60. It’s bad for your health, and frankly, it’s embarrassing to tell others.” “Plus, how are you going to raise a child? Do you and Dad have a retirement fund or pension? Blake and I are the ones paying for your vitamins and health insurance. Are we supposed to take care of this baby too?” I got a little worked up. Evelyn burst into tears, holding her belly and saying she didn’t feel well. Grant helped her up and glared at me. Grant added, “Do you think it’s easy for us to have a third child? We love kids. Why can’t we have one? And you’re just a stay-at-home mom. You get to spend Blake’s money, so why can’t we as his parents?” I was livid. I stormed off to the bedroom to calm myself, reminding myself not to get too angry for the sake of my baby. As I thought back on what Grant had said, I realized every word was an accusation. But calling me a stay-at-home mom who lived off Blake’s money? That was way off base. My family had given a generous dowry when we married, and I worked part-time to help with expenses. Half of the household costs came from me. So why did Evelyn and Grant act like I was some useless freeloader? Later that night, Blake tried to justify his parents’ behavior. “My parents have had a hard life. And you know, older folks believe that the more kids you have, the better. It makes the family lively, and more family is never a bad thing, right?” I scoffed, “Your mom’s hardships weren’t caused by me, were they? Did she have it easy before I married into this family? Am I the reason for all her struggles?” Blake fell silent. Whenever he went quiet like that, I knew he felt guilty. Before we got married, Blake would always defend me. He wouldn’t let his mom say a single bad thing about me. But after we tied the knot, every time Evelyn and I clashed, Blake would say, “My mom’s had a hard life.” Luckily, we didn’t live with his parents. Now I realize Blake was just a mama’s boy in disguise. If I had seen through him before the wedding, I never would have married him. But for my own sake, I had to stay calm. I was eight months pregnant. I couldn’t let myself get worked up. But the Whitford family wasn’t making it easy. The next day, Blake’s relatives showed up at the house, all rallying around Evelyn. One by one, they said things like, “It’s not easy for an older woman to get pregnant. This baby is a blessing from God. And having more kids makes for a livelier family.” “Exactly. When you marry into the Whitford family, you become part of the family. You should put the family first. What’s so wrong with your mother-in-law being pregnant at 60? How many women can even get pregnant at that age?” Evelyn’s relatives were acting like this was some kind of miracle and almost expected me to bow in gratitude for the blessing of a new brother- or sister-in-law. When they had finally worn themselves out, I calmly responded, “If having a baby at 60 is such a good thing, why don’t you have your mother or your daughters spend the postpartum recovery period with her?” They were speechless. But they didn’t give up that easily. They kept going on about how more kids would bring more energy and prosperity to the family. I sarcastically asked, “So am I done having babies?” At this point, Blake felt a bit embarrassed. He pulled me aside and said, “Honey, you should show some respect to the elders. That’s just basic manners.” I didn’t care what the rest of the Whitford family said, but Blake siding with them? That disgusted me. What a fool I was to marry him. But I was too pregnant to keep fighting and didn’t want to stress myself out. That night, when Blake was in the shower, I saw a notification pop up on his phone. He had transferred $2,000 to an online baby store. Curious, I snuck over to Evelyn’s bedroom and overheard her talking to Grant. “Did I order everything right online? I’ve bought so many baby supplies. Thank goodness Blake is such a good son and linked his bank card to mine. That way, it’ll be easier when I get the prenatal test and during my recovery.” Grant said with satisfaction, “That’s right. Having a good son is better than anything.” Evelyn hesitated for a moment and asked, “But what if Sloane makes a fuss about getting a divorce?” Grant replied, “Then let her divorce. We’ll be just fine as long as our family stays together. Who needs outsiders?” I felt like I had been struck by lightning. My whole body went numb. The baby in my belly must’ve sensed my distress and started kicking furiously. I rubbed my stomach to try and calm the baby down, but the kicking only grew more intense. I quickly lay down, waiting for Blake to come back and bring me some prenatal medicine. But when he returned, Blake said, “Taking too much prenatal medicine isn’t good for you. You’re just overthinking this and stressing yourself out.” I threw a pillow at Blake, shouting, “Am I overthinking things, or have you and your family been hiding all this from me? How many ‘good deeds’ have you been keeping from me?” Blake jumped up, accusing me, “You’ve been brainwashed by those online articles, haven’t you? You’re having a baby, and so is Mom. You’re younger, so you’ll recover quickly. When Mom has the baby, you can help her with the postpartum care.” He said it so seriously, like it was the most logical thing in the world. I had been shocked earlier by what I’d heard from Grant and Evelyn. But now, Blake was pushing me to my breaking point. I felt sick and dizzy, and my stomach began to hurt. I waved him off, too overwhelmed to even argue. But the next day, Blake told his mom, “Mom, don’t worry about a thing. Sloane is totally on board with you having the baby. We’ll take care of the costs and the postpartum recovery.” I didn’t agree to any of that! Blake had completely twisted what happened. I had only waved him off because I was feeling unwell. But I didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. Thanksgiving was in three days, and I decided to go back to the Monroe Family Estate to recover. I’d deal with everything else after the baby was born. I called my mom, and when I told her what was happening, she immediately exploded. “Evelyn has the nerve to get pregnant? And then expects you and Blake to raise the child?” Thank goodness my mom was on my side. She assumed Blake supported me, so I didn’t bother explaining. I just asked her to come and pick me up. Luckily, I didn’t live too far from my parents. It was only a two-hour drive. That evening, my parents arrived, and I quickly packed my things to leave. But just as we were about to go, Blake and his parents blocked the door. Evelyn turned to my mom and said, “You’re a mother too. You can’t be selfish…” My mom was not one to back down. She rolled up her sleeves and snapped back, “Well, I’m pregnant too. If your son is going to take care of your baby, then my daughter will take care of mine.”

Evelyn’s face turned pale as a ghost. “You’re too old to be pregnant! Don’t you have any shame?” My mom scoffed, rolling her eyes and spitting on the ground in disgust. “I’m only a few years younger than you. You think I’m too old, but you, at 60, can still be pregnant? You’re the one without shame!” Evelyn was left speechless, her expression as sour as if she’d just eaten something rotten. Watching the scene unfold, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction bubbling up inside me. My dad pulled Blake aside for a private talk. He had probably expected Blake to take my side, but what he didn’t expect was for Blake to say, “Sloane’s been moody during her pregnancy. I get that, it’s normal, but life’s never perfect, right?” When my dad heard Blake’s words, he realized there was no point in continuing the conversation. He walked back to the car, pulling me along with him. On the drive back, the tension in my belly worsened. The stress and anger had caused complications, and I was in serious pain. Worried, my parents rushed me to Riverview Medical Center. The doctors examined me and said I needed to be hospitalized. They warned that due to my unstable emotions, I was showing signs of a potential miscarriage. They recommended an immediate C-section to save the baby. On the first night after my surgery, Blake showed up at the hospital. The first words out of his mouth were, “Why are you picking a fight with my parents? Now the whole neighborhood is talking about what a joke they are. Sloane, you have no heart!” I was lying in a hospital bed, recovering from a C-section, and Blake had the nerve to come and berate me? The sight of him made my stomach turn. If I weren’t still healing, I swear I would’ve slapped him across the face. But my silence only made Blake think I was feeling guilty. He sneered, “You’re such a wicked woman. You have no kindness in you. It’s almost Thanksgiving, and instead of staying with your husband’s family, you ran off with your parents. Do you know how much shame you’ve brought to my parents and me?” His face was twisted with anger, and I could see the exhaustion in his eyes. It was clear he was losing sleep over the situation, but I couldn’t care less. I sat up slightly and said, “Fine, Blake, think of me as the bad guy. After I recover and give birth, we’re getting a divorce. You, your parents, and your new sibling can all live happily ever after without me. In fact, why don’t you let your mom have ten more kids? Why did you even bother getting married?” If I weren’t so physically drained, I would’ve given him a much bigger piece of my mind. Blake stared at me, dumbfounded, for a moment. Then, like a child throwing a tantrum, he pointed a finger in my face, yelling, “You’re disrespectful and ungrateful! How dare you speak to me like that!” I couldn’t take it anymore. I lunged forward, intending to bite his finger, but before I could, Blake shoved me hard. Being so heavy with pregnancy, I lost my balance and crashed to the floor. The impact made my head spin, and I felt like I was sinking into deep water, drowning in dizziness. Through the haze, I faintly heard my mom’s desperate screams and the doctors rushing in for an emergency.

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When I was a kid, a newlywed couple moved in next door. My parents were warm and welcoming, and after our families became close, Jennifer Thompson, the gentle and kind lady next door, would often bring me little snacks. Her sweet nature immediately made me like her. As the years passed and I hit my teenage years, I began to grow curious about relationships. I spent a lot of time at their house and often saw Jennifer taking care of her baby. Her curvy figure naturally became the source of my daydreams, and she firmly planted herself in my mind. But one time, while I was watching Jennifer feed her child, lost in thought, her husband caught me staring. He whispered something to her, and I saw her blush immediately. After that, he made up an excuse to send me home. From that point on, I felt that Jennifer started to distance herself from me, and the closeness between our families slowly faded away. This growing distance didn’t change how I felt. In fact, it only made me like her even more. When I was nineteen, during my first summer break from college, their marriage hit the rocks, and one day they had a huge fight. I saw Jennifer run out, crying, and head for the rooftop of the Westwood Apartments. I was really worried she might do something drastic, so I followed her. When I got to the rooftop, I found Jennifer huddled in a corner, sobbing uncontrollably, her whole body shaking. Seeing her like that broke my heart. I hated her husband at that moment—how could he not appreciate such an amazing woman? I summoned all my courage and approached her. “Jennifer, don’t cry. That man isn’t worth your tears.” She looked up, surprised to see me there. Seeing her face covered in tears, I couldn’t bear it. I don’t know what came over me, but I blurted out, “Jennifer, don’t cry! He doesn’t deserve you!” “What…?” Jennifer looked at me in shock. Gathering more courage, I dropped the formalities. “Jennifer, why don’t you just divorce him? When I graduate, I’ll marry you!” She was stunned, looking at me in complete disbelief. “What are you talking about?” she finally asked. “I… I like you!” I said, my heart racing. I had no idea where this boldness came from, but I’ll never forget the look of shock on her face. “You’re just a kid. You don’t understand anything,” Jennifer said as she stood up, trying to leave. But just as she passed by, I grabbed her hand. “Let go!” she demanded, her face flushed with embarrassment as she tried to pull away. “What are you doing?” “I…” I was so nervous I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t know why I was being so impulsive, but in that moment, I made a bold decision. I pulled her into a hug and kissed her.

That kiss was my first, but it wasn’t sweet. Suddenly, Jennifer bit my lip. “Ouch!” I yelped in pain, immediately letting her go. Before I could say anything else— “You little jerk!” Smack! Jennifer slapped me hard across the face and ran off, crying. That slap snapped me back to reality. I was filled with regret, constantly replaying the scene in my head, asking myself, What the hell did I just do? I was terrified she would tell my parents or, worse, her husband. I couldn’t go home that night. Instead, I spent the entire night on the rooftop, too scared to face anyone. It wasn’t until late that night that my worried parents came looking for me. Jennifer came along with them. “Luke, what’s gotten into you?” my mom asked, panicked. “Luke, don’t scare us like this! Sure, you didn’t get into your dream college, but life is long…” They assumed I was upset about not getting into the college I wanted and thought I was in a dark place. Their concern was touching, but all I could think about was Jennifer. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. When our gazes met, she quickly looked away and left without a word. But I knew—she hadn’t told anyone about what happened. When I started college, I ended up dating a girl named Amy Summers. She was from the same city as me, and we went to school together. It didn’t take long for us to become a couple. For a while, I thought I’d moved on from Jennifer. But when I came home during the summer break, things next door had gotten worse. The fights between Jennifer and her husband were getting louder and more frequent. I could even hear the sounds of things breaking. Suddenly, all the memories of Jennifer came flooding back. I realized I had never truly forgotten her, and every moment we shared was still etched in my mind. At dinner, I casually asked, “What’s going on with Mr. and Mrs. Thompson? They seem to be fighting a lot lately.” “The seven-year itch, maybe,” my dad said with a shrug. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” my mom chimed in, shaking her head. “It’s because he failed at his business.” “Business?” I asked. “Yeah, he and a friend tried to start an import/export company, but it went under. They lost everything and now owe tens of thousands.” My mom added, “I even saw a realtor showing their house earlier today—they’re selling it to pay off the debt.” Hearing this, I felt awful. I wanted to help her. That night, I reached out to a friend, and we found summer jobs. My parents were supportive, seeing me so motivated. At the end of the month, I earned my first paycheck—$2,800. Most people would probably use that money to treat themselves or buy something nice. But I stood in front of their house, pacing at the stairs, clutching that money in my hands. When her husband left the house, I knocked on the door. Jennifer answered, looking exhausted. “What’s up?” she asked when she saw me standing there. “I…” I couldn’t help but think back to that night on the rooftop, and my face turned red. I handed her an envelope filled with cash. “Jennifer, I’m sorry for how I acted before. I was immature. I know your family is struggling financially right now. I earned this money working this summer—please, take it.” I stuffed the money into her hands and bolted back to my house. Little did I know that this simple gesture would change everything between us—and turn me into a man.

After giving Jennifer the money, I rushed home and tried to sleep early that night. But I couldn’t. The next morning, when my parents had left for work, the doorbell rang. “Who is it?” I asked as I opened the door. Jennifer stood there, looking at me with a soft smile. “You silly boy,” she said, handing me back the envelope of money. “I appreciate your kindness, but you need to keep this.” I tried to refuse, but she wouldn’t hear it. As we both tugged at the envelope, I accidentally brushed against her. My face flushed instantly. She, too, stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to say. “If you keep this up, I’ll get mad,” she finally said, trying to stay serious. “I just really want to help you get through this,” I replied earnestly. “You’re such a sweet boy. If only he were half as thoughtful as you…” Her words trailed off, and I could see a deep sadness in her eyes. Seeing her like that tugged at my heart. For a moment, the air between us was still. Neither of us said anything. Finally, I stammered, “Why don’t you come in and sit down for a while?” “I can’t take the money, though,” she insisted, handing the envelope back. I didn’t push it. Instead, I invited her inside. She sat down on the couch, looking around. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in your house.” “Yeah,” I agreed with a smile. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Coffee?” “You have coffee?” she asked, surprised. “I do. I picked up some while working at the grocery store. Let me make you a cup.” “Thanks,” she said with a nod. I went to the kitchen and brewed her some coffee. When I brought it back, she took the cup, but instead of drinking, she stared at it for a moment before placing it on the table. “Time flies, doesn’t it? I remember when we first moved here, you were just a little kid. And now, you’re about to finish your second year of college,” she said softly. “Yeah, I’ll be twenty soon,” I replied. “Your birthday’s coming up, right?” “Yep. My parents are throwing a small party for me next Sunday.” Jennifer looked at me with her usual warmth. “Do you want anything special for your birthday? Maybe I can get you a gift.” Hearing that, my heart skipped a beat. “I’d just like you to come to the party. I don’t really need a gift.” “Are you sure?” Jennifer smiled gently. “You don’t want anything else?” “Well…” I hesitated. Given her financial situation, I didn’t want to burden her with getting me a present. But deep down, I still wanted something from her—it would mean more to me than any other gift. Before I could figure out what to say, she stood up and said, “I’ve never seen your room before. Mind showing me around?” “Sure,” I replied without thinking, leading her to my room. “Sorry for the mess,” I said awkwardly, glancing around. When I turned back to look at her, I was shocked. Jennifer was leaning against the door—and she had locked it behind her.

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After seven years of marriage, my husband’s mistress barged into my home with a group of people, accusing me of being the other woman. “This is the home of that sidepiece! Look how fancy it’s decorated. She must have spent my husband’s money!” They trashed my house, leaving it in ruins. And my husband? He threatened me with divorce if I didn’t let it go. “I’m running the company now, and you’re just a stay-at-home mom with a child. After a divorce, what could you possibly rely on?” Well, it looks like it’s time to start preparing for a future without him.\ 0I had just finished getting my baby to sleep when the front door rattled under the sound of loud, aggressive knocks. The nanny hurried to open it, but before she could even see who it was, she was shoved aside roughly. “This is the home of that sidepiece! Look how lavish the place is. She must have spent my husband’s money!” “Trash the place! Teach this trashy woman a lesson, make sure she never dares to be a homewrecker again!” A crowd of people flooded into my house. The woman leading them scanned the room, her eyes gleaming with greed, then barked orders to the others behind her. They didn’t hesitate, rushing forward to destroy everything they could get their hands on. Some even stuffed valuables into their pockets. The sound of things smashing against the floor echoed around the house, turning my once pristine home into a disaster zone. “What are you doing?!” The nanny, regaining her senses, tried to stop them but was shoved hard to the ground. I rushed out of the nursery, alarmed by the noise, only to find chaos unfolding before my eyes. The woman leading the mob pointed at me the moment she saw me. “So, you’re the shameless woman who seduced my husband? Let me show you what happens to women like you!” Someone was recording a video, thrusting their phone right up in my face. “Everyone, take a good look at this homewrecker! Whenever you see her in the street, make sure you remind her of the consequences of being a sidepiece!” I knocked the phone aside, stunned by the state of the room. “Who are you people?!” I demanded. “I’m warning you, stop this now, or there will be consequences!” I gestured for the nanny to call security. The woman sneered. “Consequences? Did you think about consequences when you seduced Connor Holt and became his mistress?” “And all this?” She waved her hand at the room. “You bought it all with my husband’s money. This house is mine! I can do whatever I want with what’s rightfully mine!” Her words made no sense. Connor Holt was my husband, and I certainly didn’t need to steal him. “Are you sure you’ve got the right person? Connor is my husband. We got married at the Orange County Courthouse, and our child is already a year old. How could I possibly be a mistress?” I pulled out the photo we had taken when we got our marriage license, showing it to her. She barely glanced at it before slapping the phone from my hand. “You’ve got some nerve. You even photoshopped a fake marriage photo! Trying to pass yourself off as the wife, huh?” “You’re not even brave enough to admit what you are, a homewrecker. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you a proper lesson today!” It was clear she had made up her mind that I was the other woman, and I’d had enough. She raised her hand to slap me, but I caught her wrist mid-swing and delivered a slap of my own. The bright red handprint on her now-swollen cheek stood out starkly. She screamed and lunged at me, but by then, security had arrived and restrained her. They apologized profusely, blaming their lapse in security for allowing these people into my home. “What do you want us to do with them?” they asked. I waved dismissively. “Take them to the Newport Beach Police Department.” At the mention of the police, the group panicked. “How can a sidepiece like you have the nerve to call the cops?” “We’re not afraid of the police! We’re just standing up for justice against homewreckers. This society needs people like us!” I smirked, returning to my bedroom. I retrieved our marriage certificate and threw it at their feet. “Take a good look. We’re legally married. If there’s a mistress in this scenario, it’s you.” 02 The arrogance they displayed in my house quickly vanished once they reached the police station. I sat before them with a stack of receipts and purchase records. “These are the items they destroyed. The damage is worth several hundred thousand dollars. I want them to compensate me fully.” “We have everything on the home security cameras,” I added, shifting my gaze to the woman who led the attack. “And if I remember correctly, you also stole three necklaces and five rings from my home. The value of those items alone meets the criteria for a felony. I’m pressing charges for breaking and entering and theft.” The moment they heard how much money was at stake, the group turned on each other. “Danielle, this is all your fault! If you hadn’t told us you were cheated on and asked for our help, we wouldn’t be in this mess!” “If you want to blame someone, blame yourself. You should cover the cost. We wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you!” So the ringleader’s name was Danielle. She never expected the situation to turn on her like this. “What do you mean? When I told you all about it, you were happy to jump on board, saying this would boost your social media following. Now that we’re in trouble, you want to distance yourselves?” “If you weren’t so greedy, none of this would’ve happened!” As the two groups bickered, nearly coming to blows, I handed over the evidence to the police and left them to deal with it. I had more important matters to handle. Danielle showing up at my house, knowing exactly where I lived and mentioning Connor’s name meant something had happened between them. I had already suspected Connor of cheating, but I was nearing my due date and needed him to help manage the company, so I turned a blind eye to his behavior—so long as it didn’t interfere with me. Besides, Connor had signed a prenuptial agreement before we married, promising that if he ever cheated, he’d leave with nothing. Now that the baby was born, it was time to act on my plan to get him out of the picture. My childhood friend, Brooke Sinclair, called as soon as she heard about the break-in. We hadn’t spoken in a while, so it was a surprise to hear from her. She sounded shocked when I told her I had sent them all to jail and was seeking compensation. Then, to my surprise, she said, “Vivian, your house is fine now, and you’ve got plenty of money. Those people are pitiful. Maybe there’s been a misunderstanding. Why don’t you let it go?” Her words made me laugh. “Brooke, are you serious? I’m the victim here. They trashed my house, and I even warned them. Do you think I forced them to act like this? Maybe you should quit being human and go become a saint!” Brooke was offended. “Vivian, how can you say that? If your family wasn’t so wealthy, they wouldn’t have done what they did. If you don’t forgive them, I… I’ll end our friendship!” I was stunned by her audacity. How could she side with them after nearly ten years of friendship? “Brooke, don’t twist the facts to blame the victim. They deserved everything they got!” “And you know what? I don’t need a friend like you in my life. If you’re so sympathetic toward them, why don’t you go pay their compensation?” Without waiting for a response, I hung up and blocked her number. 03 A few days later, the investigator I hired confirmed what I had suspected. Connor had been cheating, and not just with one woman. What shocked me the most was that Brooke was one of his mistresses—and had been for the longest time. She had even given birth to his child, just a few months younger than mine. No wonder Danielle had been absent lately—she’d been off having her baby. The police called me, saying that the group who had vandalized my home wanted to see me. Perfect. I needed to confirm who had given them my address. Standing behind the protective screen, I looked at them coldly. “So, have you figured out how you’re going to split the cost of the damages?” I asked. “Or is there something you wanted to tell me?” With the others pressuring her, Danielle finally blurted out, “Actually, someone gave me your address and encouraged me to come after you. If I tell you who it was, will you drop the charges?” I snorted in disbelief. “You owe me a lot of money. If you tell me who it was, I’ll shave a little off the total, but you’re still paying.” Realizing they had no better options, Danielle clenched her teeth and said, “It was Brooke Sinclair. She’s the one who told me you were the mistress and gave me your address.” Exactly as I thought. Danielle didn’t know Brooke was also one of Connor’s mistresses. She probably thought Brooke was just another person outraged by affairs. Instead, she had been played as a pawn in Brooke’s plan to move up in Connor’s life. I leaned closer to the glass. “Did you know that Brooke is a mistress herself? She’s been with Connor longer than you, and they even have a child together.” “She’s been using you to get ahead.” Seeing the doubt on her face, I pulled out my phone and showed her photos of Brooke, Connor, and their child together. “Look at you now. Brooke’s sitting pretty while you’re buried in debt and hated by your so-called friends. You’re both mistresses, but you’re the one left with nothing.” Danielle’s eyes widened with rage. Now, I just had to sit back and watch as they tore each other apart. Based on the investigation, it was clear Connor had a particular fondness for Brooke. She’d been with him the longest, and he treated her better than any of the others. Brooke was smart, too. She knew about the other women but never raised a fuss. The other women didn’t even know each other existed. Connor had bought Brooke a house in downtown LA, similar in size and value to our home. Whatever she wanted, he provided immediately. But Connor wasn’t rich enough to support such high expenses on his salary alone. He’d been siphoning money from the company. It was time for me to take control of the business again. Otherwise, he might forget whose name was really on the company! 04 Connor Holt finally found out about the incident while he was away on a business trip. He rushed back, a look of concern plastered on his face as he asked if I was alright. The expression seemed genuine, and if I hadn’t already known what kind of man he truly was, I might have believed he actually cared about me. Sure enough, after I told him I was fine, he quickly switched gears and got to the real reason for his concern. “Vivian, I heard you had those people thrown in jail. Now that everything’s okay, why don’t you let it go? No need to waste the police’s time.” I gave him a side-eye and asked, “What if I don’t?” Connor’s face tightened. “Why do you have to hold a grudge? Can’t you just be the bigger person? Think of it as doing a good deed for the baby’s sake.” He thought he was smart, trying to use our child to manipulate me. But his little game wasn’t going to work. I let out a cold laugh. “Am I the one being petty, or is there someone in that group you’re particularly concerned about?” Danielle was Connor’s new fling, and things between them were getting pretty serious. That’s why she’d felt bold enough to come and cause trouble in my home. At my words, Connor’s face went rigid. “You’re imagining things. You know I only care about you. Can’t you stop being so paranoid? I just don’t want you to stress over this, especially since you’ve just had the baby.” He thought he was clever, believing his affairs had been so discreet that I’d never suspect a thing. I grabbed the stack of photos I had collected and threw them in his face. “Open your eyes, Connor. Did you really think I didn’t know?” The pictures showed him and a variety of women, entering and leaving different hotels. Connor still tried to wriggle his way out. “I was only doing this for you, for the business! It’s just part of client relations. You don’t understand how these things work. You’re just a stay-at-home mom; what do you know about business?” I shot back, “Does client relations require you to go to bed with them?” That shut him up. The last shred of his act fell away, and he gave up pretending. “Fine, you know everything now, so I won’t hide it anymore.” “If you don’t go to the police and get Danielle out of jail, then we’re getting a divorce.” “I’m in charge of the company now. You’re just a housewife with a kid. After the divorce, what do you think you’ll have left to rely on?” His voice was full of threats, confident that I wouldn’t dare leave him. He thought he had full control of the company and assumed that even in a divorce, the business would be his. I looked straight at him and said, “Alright, let’s get divorced.” Back when we were dating, Connor had believed I was madly in love with him. He thought he had me wrapped around his finger. Even when I made him sign a prenuptial agreement, he didn’t care, assuming it wouldn’t matter. What he didn’t know was that I only chose him for his genes. When I was about to take over the company, some old-fashioned board members tried to block me, saying I was a woman with no husband or children and that I’d eventually shift my focus to my family, making me unsuitable to run the business. Connor, with his good looks and perfect academic record, had played the part of the loving, devoted man well enough for me to decide he would be my husband. Once I took over the company, I swiftly dealt with those who had doubted me. Now that my plan was complete, Connor had outlived his usefulness. “You b*tch, Vivian! What did you say?” he shouted. 05 Connor stood there, stunned, as if he couldn’t believe I had agreed so easily. “Vivian, think carefully. If we divorce, you’ll be left with nothing,” he warned. I stood up and turned to the nanny. “Mrs. Lin, could you show him the door?” He stared at me, incredulous. “This is my house! You can’t kick me out!” I laughed in his face. “Don’t forget, I bought this house before we got married. The deed is in my name. This is my house. Now that we’re getting divorced, are you really going to cling to my place? Or should I have security throw you out?” Connor was too prideful to let that happen. His face twisted with anger, and he spat out, “Fine, Vivian. I’ll be waiting for the day you come crawling back, begging me to return.” But the one doing the begging would be him. 06 I eventually had Danielle bailed out. I had other plans for her. I’d done my research—she had been cheated on by her last boyfriend, which is why they broke up. The thing she hated most was being the other woman. Now, she had become exactly that, and not only that, she had been played by another mistress. She wouldn’t be able to let it go. Once she was out, she headed straight for Brooke Sinclair’s house. I made sure to send photos of Brooke and Connor to all of Connor’s other flings. Nothing sparks more fury than a woman discovering her “loyal” boyfriend has other lovers. Brooke was clever, though. Every time Connor got involved with a new woman, she would go out of her way to befriend them, acting like a sisterly figure, and then use them to get Connor’s attention back on her. Danielle and the other women were in Brooke’s place for a long time, and when they finally left, they seemed to be in high spirits. Once Danielle was gone, I arrived at Brooke’s front door with a few bodyguards. Brooke answered, but her greeting died in her throat when she saw me. Her face was swollen, her hair disheveled—she looked like she had been beaten badly. It seemed like Danielle and the others had given her a thorough punishment. “Vivian… what are you doing here?” Brooke stammered, her voice weak. I smiled. “Just came to check out the house Connor bought you.” I waved my hand toward the bodyguards. “Wreck it.” At my command, the men pushed past Brooke, wielding baseball bats, and began smashing everything in sight. “What are you doing?!” Brooke screamed. “Stop them!” she cried, trying to pull one of the guards away, but the housekeeper watched from the side, too afraid to intervene. The sound of a baby crying filled the air, startled by the chaos. Brooke looked at me with pure hatred in her eyes, as if I were her worst enemy. She rushed at me, but I grabbed her and held her back. “What’s wrong? Didn’t you say you hate mistresses? I’m just helping you teach one a lesson.” Her face went white, and she tried to play dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I gave her a light slap on the cheek. “Danielle told me everything.” “Your days of luxury are over.” Brooke, desperate, turned to the housekeeper and shouted, “Call the police! Call the police!” “She’s trespassing! I want her arrested!”

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The day Isabelle “Belle” Knight, Weston Carrington’s first love, returned to the U.S., I set fire to The Carrington Estate. With my twins in tow, I disappeared without a trace. I had once charged into a burning building to save him, losing my sight in the process. But to him, I was just a schemer who used any means necessary to marry him and ruin his future with Belle. Now that my vision was restored, it was time for me to leave. ### Chapter 1 The kids begged Weston for days before he finally agreed to celebrate their birthday with them. The food on the table grew cold, and the twins sat by their cake, refusing to go to bed. Weston never showed up. But I knew where he was. Grabbing my cane, I felt my way out of the house. Every bump and stumble on the way added new cuts to my shins. At the door of the private lounge, I was about to step inside when I overheard the conversation from within. “Belle’s coming back. So, what are you going to do about that blind woman and the twins?” one of Weston’s friends asked. “Divorce,” Weston replied without a moment’s hesitation. Of course. If the Carringtons hadn’t forced Weston to marry a blind woman like me, Belle would have never left. On our wedding day, Weston rebelled by disappearing, leaving me to complete the entire ceremony alone, becoming the laughingstock of the town. For a year, we lived apart. Then, one impulsive night changed everything, leading to the birth of our twins. The day Ethan and Lillian were born, he didn’t spare them a glance. To him, they were the embodiment of betrayal. When he agreed to celebrate their birthday, I foolishly believed that his heart might finally be thawing. In the silence, one of his friends spoke. “To be honest, your wife’s been good to you, and she’s given you kids who are already so grown.” “Does it matter?” another friend retorted immediately. “If she hadn’t orchestrated blinding herself to trap Weston into marriage, he wouldn’t have missed out on years with Belle.” “A blind, fallen socialite being able to marry into the Carrington family was already a miracle. Now that Belle’s back, the real lovers can finally reunite.” A lump formed in my throat as Weston’s cold voice cut through the room. “Talking about her ruins the mood. Let’s drink.” The disgust in his tone was unmistakable. ### Chapter 2 I often felt like my life was perpetually derailed, heading straight into every storm it could find. When I first met Weston, I was the adored Manhattan socialite, Celeste Monroe, and he was the rising star of the financial world. At my art gala, while the powerful circled around me with empty praise, he was the only one studying my painting in silence. Dressed in a crisp white shirt, he looked like he belonged in my self-portrait, “Portrait of a Countryside Girl,” that hung just behind him. When our eyes met, he offered a small smile. “Miss Monroe, you’re as beautiful as these works of art.” The imagined breeze of the painted fields brushed my heart, and it raced wildly. From that moment, I fell in love, enduring six years of one-sided longing. Weston always maintained a polite distance but never explicitly rejected me. I believed I was worthy of him and clung to the hope of winning his heart. Then, tragedy struck. The Monroe legacy crumbled, leaving me the only survivor. I was alive, but only in body. Later, I ran into a burning building to save an unconscious Weston, losing my sight in the process. I lost my home and could no longer paint. The Carringtons, not wanting public scrutiny, forced Weston to marry me. That’s when I learned his heart belonged to someone else: Isabelle Knight. He resented me. One Harvest Moon Festival, a drunk Weston came home for the first time. Before I could say a word, he embraced me, reeking of alcohol. I couldn’t break free. As he tore my clothes like a wild animal, the image of the boy who once smiled at me filled my mind. “Miss Monroe, you’re as beautiful as a piece of art,” he had said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. When I awoke, pain shot through me. And then, he slapped me hard. “Celeste, there’s no end to your scheming to stay as Mrs. Carrington, is there?” I realized then that it had always been a mistake. I should have left long ago. ### Chapter 3 I returned to Carrington Manor, the cage built for me after our marriage. The twins were still awake, running to cling to my legs as soon as I stepped inside. “Mom, did Dad come back too?” Ethan asked. I heard their little feet run toward the door, only to return, their disappointment palpable. “Did Dad not want us?” Ethan asked, tears welling up. My heart clenched, a crushing pain stealing my breath. I knelt and held them close. “Mom wants you. Will you come with me if we leave?” Life might be tougher, but it would be better than living in the shadows here. Lillian’s small hand brushed the tears from my cheeks. “Mom, don’t cry. We’ll go wherever you go.” After putting them to bed, I broke down, unable to hold back my sobs. Being my children had brought them nothing but hardship. Carrying them for ten months had been difficult, even more so because I was blind. Weston knew the challenges I faced but never accompanied me to a single prenatal appointment. When he first saw them, his only comment was, “Disgusting.” Publicly, he refused to acknowledge them as his own. Even when they called him “Dad,” he scolded them. They were legitimate children, yet they were treated worse than outsiders. When they asked me if their father would come home, I would make excuse after excuse until even they stopped believing me. Leaving would free everyone. Perhaps Weston suddenly remembered his promise to the kids. Late that night, he came back. As I was packing, his cold hand grabbed my arm. His voice, sharp and void of emotion, pierced the air. “What are you doing?” The scent of alcohol brought back the memory of that night, making my body stiffen. I kept my voice steady. “The house is a mess. I’m tidying up.” The silence stretched, broken only by the chill of the wind that made me shiver. Then Weston pulled me into his arms, his tone almost pleading. “Don’t go, Belle.” He was drunk and had mistaken me for her. Before I could push him away, he kissed me, invading with the taste of whiskey. His hand trailed from my collarbone down, claiming me in his intoxicated haze. ### Chapter 4 The shame and pain crashed over me like a wave, suffocating and all-consuming. I pushed him away with all the strength I had, screaming desperately, “If you love Belle so much, why did you marry me? Why trap me here and ignore me?” There was no response. Though I couldn’t see him, I felt the rage emanating from him. Realizing my legs were cut, his tone turned harsh. “You went looking for me? What did you hear?” I didn’t care anymore. The words spilled out. “Do you really think Belle left because of our marriage? She left for her own ambitions.” “How dare you mention her!” He shoved me, and I fell back, my head hitting the ground with a painful thud, sending a sharp ache through my skull. Suddenly, a sliver of light broke through, fading the darkness into a mist. Slowly, my vision cleared. I thought I saw Weston reaching for me, but his hand retreated. He stood there, expression cold as ice. “You wanted me back. I’m here. That’s enough.” Then he disappeared into the night. I could see. I could finally see. Rushing to the bedroom, I touched Ethan and Lillian’s warm little hands to make sure it was real. Tears of joy streamed down my face. Now, I was more determined than ever to leave. The next day, Weston, sobered up, had his secretary send birthday gifts for the twins. They dumped them at the front door. Ethan scowled. “It’s not even my birthday today. Why send this now?” Lillian, equally upset, added, “We wanted Dad home so he could be with Mom. But if Mom doesn’t want Dad, we don’t either.” They were too young to have such heavy burdens, only two years old but far too mature. Lillian’s small voice asked, “Mom, where will we go?” Smiling, I replied, “Back to Mom’s old home.” The Monroe estate was long gone, sold off. Now, only Grandma Lucille’s Homestead remained—the place she had never left until her last breath, her little paradise. “There’s no amusement park, no tall buildings, but there are birds, flowers, and streams.” Their little arms wrapped around me tightly, stifling the rest of my words. “With you, Mom, anywhere is the best place.” ### Chapter 5 Lately, both Weston Carrington and I had been busy. He was preparing for Isabelle “Belle” Knight’s return to the States, while I was making plans to take the children and leave. If I wanted to slip away from the ever-watchful Carrington family, timing had to be perfect. Though the kids said they didn’t care about their father, the day before we were set to leave, they sat staring wistfully at a picture of Weston. After much hesitation, I finally dialed Weston’s number. The line connected, but his voice was as impatient as ever. “What is it?” “The kids want to see you. Would you come by one last time?” Would he come for one final goodbye? “Weston, I finally made it back, and you’re not even paying attention to me. I’m going to be upset!” Isabelle’s voice chimed in the background. He was with her. Without a second’s hesitation, he hung up. When fate has run its course, even a final meeting becomes too much to hope for. On the bedside table, my Portrait of a Countryside Girl still hung, as if the fragrance of the fields could seep out at any moment. I flicked the lighter and set it ablaze. The fire licked eagerly at everything in the room, spreading rapidly through the manor. Our marriage, which began with fire, would end in fire. As the flames roared around us, I held Ethan and Lillian’s hands and walked away, not once looking back. Weston, I’ve returned your freedom to you. The fire raged on, consuming everything, even what should have been permanent. I returned to Grandma Lucille’s Homestead. Since her passing, the house had remained untouched, blanketed in layers of dust. Brushing it away, I could almost see her offering me a big, ripe watermelon, urging me to eat. She would slice it in half, and if that wasn’t enough, she’d let me scoop it out with a spoon. Her eyes crinkled with joy as she laughed at the mess I’d make. Now, I lived quietly with the kids, emulating the simple, serene life she had once led. We tilled the weed-choked garden with small hoes, reclaiming the land inch by inch. News reports buzzed with stories of the fire that destroyed Carrington Manor, suggesting that Weston’s wife and their twin children were lost in the blaze. As the inferno devoured everything, Weston was in a hotel with Isabelle. She excused herself, claiming she needed to freshen up, leaving Weston waiting. He knew exactly what her invitation implied. ### Chapter 6 When Isabelle emerged, wrapped in a towel and looking every bit the vision she intended, Weston felt… nothing. As she leaned in eagerly, he recoiled, almost reflexively pushing her away. “I’m sorry, something came up at work. I have to go.” He left as if fleeing a fire, bewildered by his own reaction. Not even in bed with Celeste Monroe had he felt this disinterest. The news of the fire at Carrington Manor stunned him into a rare moment of silence. A pang of regret stealthily claimed space in his mind. He couldn’t help but wonder, if he had been there, would it have changed anything? Yet part of him clung to the belief that this was just another one of Celeste’s manipulations for attention. “She’s always up to some scheme,” he muttered with disdain. Until Margaret Carrington placed the charred remains on his desk. There lay a blackened wedding ring and two half-burned birthday gifts. The ring was their sole connection, one Celeste had never taken off, cherishing it as a lifeline. The gifts were the ones he had sent for the twins, their wrappings untouched, now scorched and ruined. “The fire started in the bedroom. It looks like she set it herself and locked the door from the inside. No one could have survived that.” Weston’s breath caught in his throat. “Are you saying she chose not to escape, that she stayed to die with the children in our home?”

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