Category: English

My roommate, Tiffany Moore, thrust a spare phone into my hand, complaining with an impatient sigh. She said her thirty-five-year-old online boyfriend was driving her crazy. He nagged her daily about memorizing vocabulary, writing reading notes, and even interfered with her weekend bar hops downtown. In her eyes, it was just a casual online fling, something to pass the time between sorority parties and dates, but he was possessive, acting more like a strict father than a romantic interest. I was initially indifferent, ready to bury my nose back in my microeconomics textbook, when suddenly a barrage of comments exploded before my eyes. Some said Tiffany was foolish, unaware her online boyfriend was a venture capitalist titan worth billions. Others explained it wasn’t possessiveness, but him grooming her to be his future wife. Still others predicted that when the “titan” returned to the States and found his chat partner had changed, he would surely deal with me, the stand-in sidekick, before returning to Tiffany for a dramatic reconciliation and a “chase-wife-to-the-moon” arc, our version of the over-the-top “chase-wife-to-crematory” trope. Reading this, I picked up the phone and smiled at Tiffany. I told her I’d gladly endure this “suffering” for her from now on. So what if I was a stand-in? Who cared about a “chase-wife” plot? My mind was already racing, eager to connect with that titan and ask if he knew any shortcuts to getting into a top-tier business school, Harvard, Stanford, Wharton, anything better than the small state university I was struggling to afford. 1 Right in front of Tiffany, I changed the registered phone number and handed her the spare phone back. She took it, glanced at me, and sneered, “That cheap old man might toss you a few bucks, but his demands are insane, like a college dean breathing down your neck. Enjoy.” She was right; a rich kid from the business school would casually buy her a designer purse worth thousands, so she probably looked down on a mere three thousand dollars a month. Tiffany grabbed her leather jacket and left for her date with a football player, and the dorm room grew quiet. I opened the chat box with no profile picture. The last messages were from last night. [This week’s Wall Street Journal headlines. Read them and send me a summary.] [Why aren’t you replying?] [You better get your attitude straight and take this seriously. I don’t have time for your games.] My eyelids twitched. I scrolled through six months of their chat history. They had met on a business forum. Tiffany, pretending to be a studious, cash-strapped pre-business student, had asked a question about startup funding, and this man, whose username was “J.Y.,” had answered with surprising depth. They’d exchanged contact info soon after. Their conversation held no flirtation or romantic undertones; it wasn’t a “cyber romance” at all. It mainly revolved around: What book did you read today? How many words did you memorize? Have you kept up with the latest economic data? It was clear he genuinely wanted to help Tiffany. Tiffany, with her decent English and knack for faking interest, took it seriously at first. But as time went on, she started faking illnesses, whining about “stress,” or just sending a perfunctory AI-generated response. J.Y. would initially patiently correct her, but later, sensing her laziness, his tone grew colder. Yet, he still sent three thousand dollars in living expenses every month, right on time, via Zelle, no questions asked. In Tiffany’s eyes, three thousand dollars was barely enough to cover her weekly coffee runs and sorority dues. But for me, a genuinely struggling student who worked four part-time jobs a month, barista, library assistant, tutor, and grocery store cashier, to barely cover rent and textbooks, it was a godsend. I’d grown up in a small town in Ohio, my mom a single waitress, my dad long gone. College was a miracle, and grad school felt like an impossible dream, until now. The comments started scrolling again: [J.Y. is Julian Yan, the legendary Chinese-American VC who shook the Silicon Valley scene! Any insider tip he drops is enough for an ordinary person to live comfortably for generations. And Tiffany just handed him over like that?] [Serena Carter, this cannon fodder, really thinks she got a bargain, huh? Julian hates deception. When he finds out he’s talking to someone else, he’ll definitely make her pay!] I ignored the malicious comments, my gaze fixed on the message asking for a reading summary. I was a finance student at Ohio State University’s regional campus, good grades, but no connections, no money for prep courses, no way to stand out to top business schools. I’d known since childhood that studying was the only way out of the cycle of poverty. After five grueling hours, I finished reading last week’s business reports, cross-referenced a lot of historical data, and wrote a summary, tight, logical, and full of insights I’d gleaned from my late-night study sessions. After checking the grammar, I sent the document. [Sorry, I had tonsil surgery these past two days, so my reply is late.] Fifteen minutes later, he replied: [You wrote the report yourself?] My heart clenched: [Yes.] …A long silence followed. I stared at the screen, my palms sweating. Had I messed up? Was it too good, too obvious that I wasn’t Tiffany? Then, a Zelle notification popped up on the screen. $50,000. [The entry point is quite novel. Much better than the previous empty rhetoric. This is a reward.] [Rest well since you’re sick. Goodnight.] Tiffany’s “cheap old man” just gave me fifty thousand dollars?! I stared at the zeroes, my fingers trembling uncontrollably. That was more money than my mom made in a year. The comments immediately turned sour: [OMG, the female sidekick has such good luck, getting fifty grand for a lousy summary?] [Julian valued Tiffany’s potential. Serena is just getting lucky, mooching off the female lead!] [Take it, take it. The more you take now, the worse you’ll die later. Gold diggers never have a good ending.] I gritted my teeth and sent the money back. This wasn’t about cash, it was about opportunity. I couldn’t blow it by looking greedy. J.Y. sent a question mark: [Not enough?] [No, no, it’s not that. It’s just that more than money, I want an opportunity.] [I want to apply to business school. I don’t have a good mentor or access to industry data.] […Can I greedy and ask to borrow a high-level terminal account from you?] After sending the message, it was like a stone dropped into the ocean. Half an hour passed, no activity. I stared at the screen, a layer of cold sweat forming on my palms. The comments went into full-on mockery mode: [Crashed and burned, huh? Acting all high and mighty, now you can’t even get fifty grand!] [What level of titan is Julian? He can’t see through this kind of trick?] [Exactly, an ordinary small-town student wanting to go to Wharton. Does she think Julian is running a charity?] Just as I thought I had overplayed my hand and ruined this path, my phone rang. It was an unknown number with a California area code. [Send me your detailed information.] His voice was deep, calm, and authoritative, no hint of anger. I immediately sent the materials I had already prepared: my transcript (4.0 GPA), my scores on the GMAT practice tests, and the results of a local business case competition I’d won last year. I omitted personal details, my mom’s job, my cramped apartment, the four part-time jobs, only focusing on what mattered: my potential. The next day, I received a call from an unknown number. “Hello, this is Mr. Lin, Mr. Yan’s executive assistant.” The voice on the other end was strictly business, no warmth. “The boss asked me to meet you to assess your situation. Are you free this afternoon? I’m in Columbus for a meeting.” I suppressed my excitement and calmly replied, “Yes, you name the place.” 2 That afternoon, I dug out my only clean blazer, thrifted, but well-maintained, and a plain white blouse, and arrived at Mr. Lin’s hotel conference room right on time. He was a sharp-dressed man in his forties, with a clipboard and a no-nonsense expression. He scrutinized me, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes, probably not expecting the “stand-in” to look so… ordinary. The comments appeared on cue, mocking me: [The small-town bumpkin really overestimates herself, showing up to meet Mr. Lin dressed like a intern.] [He’s Julian’s right-hand man, he’ll definitely see through this woman’s fake identity at a glance.] My palms were slightly sweaty; I thought I was about to be exposed. To my surprise, he simply flipped through the documents I’d sent and didn’t delve into my identity at all. “The boss believes you have some foundation, but you’re still quite far from the requirements of a top-tier university, Wharton, Stanford, MIT. Your GMAT scores are good, but not great, and your industry experience is nonexistent.” I nodded, leaning forward slightly. “It’s precisely because there’s a gap that I need guidance. As long as I’m given the resources, I can definitely make up for it. I’m a fast learner, I always have been.” “The boss’s resources are not given out casually.” Mr. Lin closed the file, his tone firm. “He can provide you with access to his industry terminal, a personal tutor team (all Ivy League graduates), and even a stipend so you can quit your part-time jobs and focus on studying.” “The prerequisite is that you must absolutely follow instructions and complete all assessment targets. No slacking, no excuses. The boss doesn’t tolerate laziness.” “I’m willing!” I replied without a second thought. Quit my part-time jobs? Focus solely on studying? It sounded like a dream. He nodded. “Then from today onwards, your schedule and study plan will be fully managed by us. A car will pick you up tomorrow morning, you’re moving out of the dorm.” 3 Three days later, I moved out of the cramped dorm and into a penthouse suite in a luxury hotel in downtown Columbus. It had floor-to-ceiling windows, a wall of bookshelves filled with business and finance books, a top-of-the-line laptop, and three private tutors, two for GMAT prep, one for business case analysis, on standby. No frills, no distractions, just everything I needed to succeed. Every morning at 6 AM, I woke up to listen to CNBC and Bloomberg reports (in English, of course). At 8 AM, I began intensive GMAT training, quantitative reasoning, verbal, analytical writing. Afternoons were spent on high-intensity case studies, dissecting real-world deals from Silicon Valley and Wall Street. In the evenings, I had to report my daily learning progress to Julian without fail, sending him my notes and practice scores. His replies were always concise. Sometimes just “Read,” other times a lengthy criticism cutting straight to the point: [Your analysis of the Tesla-Maxwell merger is shallow, you missed the regulatory risks in the EU. Go back and research the EU’s antitrust laws and rewrite it by tomorrow morning.] He truly was like a strict dean, using high-pressure methods to reshape my thinking. The cold words on the screen, far from making me feel wronged, sparked a surge of excitement. Was this the world of the powerful? No gentle coddling, only results. And I was determined to deliver. One morning, Julian sent me a message. [Great progress recently. You have half a day off today. Go do something that isn’t studying.] I was praised! My lips couldn’t help but curl upwards. I hadn’t had a day off in weeks, I decided to go back to campus to pick up some of my things from the dorm and say goodbye to my few friends. As I pushed open the dorm room door, I bumped into Tiffany. She was dressed in a designer dress, clutching a Louis Vuitton handbag, her hair done professionally. She was with a group of sorority sisters, all laughing and gossiping. She scrutinized my plain jeans and white T-shirt and scoffed. “Oh, the super student deigns to return? What, did that old man dump you already? I told you he was cheap, three grand a month can’t even buy a single shoe from my new collection.” “No, he’s been helping me with my studies recently.” I told the truth, not wanting to brag or argue. “Helping with studies? Hahahaha…” She laughed loudly, drawing the attention of her friends. “Serena, are you out of your mind? Some random online guy who can’t even afford a decent gift, and you expect him to teach you anything? Teach you how to survive on ramen noodles and part-time jobs?” She poked the GMAT prep book in my hand with her newly manicured nails. “Andrew Vanderbilt is going to be the vice president of his family’s real estate company next month. He promised to get me a cushy job in marketing, no degree required. I advise you to be more realistic, Serena. A woman doing well is not as good as marrying well. What’s the point of holding onto these useless books every day? You’ll still end up working for people like me, slaving away for a paycheck.” I avoided her hand and said calmly, “To each their own. Three thousand is fine, and working is fine too.” I hoped to “suffer” this kind of hardship my whole life, hardship that led to progress, not stagnation. As expected, with the appearance of the “female lead,” the comments became active again: [If Tiffany knew she gave up a billionaire, she’d probably be kicking herself!] [Is this really the female lead? Why does she look so smug, more like a gold-digger than the sidekick? I’m low-key excited to see her face when Julian returns!] [Shut up, traitor above! The male lead has always belonged to the female lead, okay? Be sensible!] [Just wait and see, the male lead will take back all the resources, and Serena will be back to working four jobs. Serves her right!] I ignored the comments and walked away with my books. My brain couldn’t be taken back, could it? The knowledge I’d gained, the skills I’d learned, those were mine forever. Over the next two months, my progress was visible to the naked eye. My GMAT scores jumped 100 points, my case analyses grew sharper, and I even started contributing ideas to the industry reports Julian sent me. His attitude towards me also subtly changed. He no longer just issued instructions unilaterally. Occasionally, in the early hours (he was often in Asia for business), he would send a few casual photos, sunrise over Shanghai, a street food stall in Tokyo, a view of the Hong Kong skyline, with a short caption: [Tasted this dumpling today. You’d like it.] 4 But late one night, after reviewing my case notes on a tech startup, he suddenly sent a message. [Serena, your writing style has changed recently. It’s more rational and calm than before.] My heart leaped. He noticed. The comments began to celebrate wildly: [Julian is suspicious! The big reveal is coming soon!] [Serena, your storm is coming. Get ready to be kicked out and humiliated…] I steadied my breath, my fingertips flying across the keyboard: [You can take that as a compliment, you know. People always have to learn to grow. Right now, I just want to improve, for myself, and to live up to the trust you’ve given me.] After the message was sent, a long time passed before Julian sent a voice message. It was the first time I’d heard his voice, deep, magnetic, with a hint of discernible pleasure, like he was smiling as he spoke. “Very good. Keep that ambition and drive. It’s rare.” “I’ll be back in the States mid-next month to host a private business dinner in New York. You’ll attend as my companion. It’s time for your assessment, show me what you’ve learned.” Listening to the voice message, my fingers tightened. This day had finally arrived. The moment of truth, the chance to prove I wasn’t just a stand-in, but someone worthy of his investment. [Big scene alert! The love triangle is here, finally!] [Tiffany will definitely be there, she’s dating Andrew Vanderbilt, whose family is part of the New York elite. The real and fake online girlfriends are about to meet. This is going to be epic!] [According to the plot, Julian will expose Serena that night, throw her out of the banquet, and then go beg Tiffany to take him back. Classic!] Seeing those glaring words, I secretly clenched my fist. I had been studying and writing notes day and night, not to be a stepping stone for Tiffany. I was going to ace this assessment, no matter what. 5 Mr. Lin sent someone with an evening gown a day in advance, sleek, black, and elegant, not too flashy, and a fifty-page guest list. The names read like a who’s who of Wall Street and Silicon Valley: CEOs, venture capitalists, hedge fund managers, even a few celebrities. “The core assets and recent major investment intentions of tonight’s distinguished guests are all here.” Mr. Lin’s voice was serious over the phone. “The boss doesn’t need a pretty face to fill space. You need to memorize the information of the top ten core figures, their net worth, their company’s latest moves, their weaknesses. Remember, all of it. You’ll be expected to contribute to conversations, not just stand there and look pretty.” I didn’t dare to slack off, spending the entire night memorizing the list backward and forward. Not only that, but I also used the terminal account Julian had given me to dig up the recent financial reports of the ten titans’ companies, looking for insights and talking points. Whatever the outcome of the “reveal,” I had to be worthy of the resources he had invested in me. I owed him that much. In the evening, the car dropped me off in front of a sprawling mansion in the Hamptons. The air was filled with the scent of champagne and cigars, and guests conversed in hushed tones, seeming casual, but every word was a power play, every smile a strategic move. A single offhand comment could involve billions of dollars in financial flow. I picked up a glass of sparkling water (I didn’t drink alcohol, not wanting to cloud my judgment) and stayed in a quiet corner, silently matching the faces in the room with the information I had memorized the night before. I recognized a few faces from business magazines, Warren Buffett’s protégé, the CEO of Apple, the founder of a major hedge fund. My heart raced, but I forced myself to stay calm. Suddenly, a familiar female voice broke the silence. “Serena? What are you doing here?” I turned my head, unsurprised to see Tiffany. She was clinging to a tall, slick-haired young man, Andrew Vanderbilt, no doubt, staring at me in astonishment. She was wearing a bright pink gown, her neck covered in diamonds, clearly trying to stand out. “This is a top-tier business dinner. How did a poor student like you get in?” She sneered, leaning in like she was sharing a secret. “Don’t tell me you hooked up with a waiter and snuck in through the back door? That’s pathetic, even for you.” The comments floated across my vision right on time: [Tiffany’s words are rude, but she’s right. Serena only got in by deceiving Julian. She doesn’t belong here.] [Waiting for Julian to walk in and publicly expose her, this is going to be so satisfying!] [Popcorn’s ready, let the show begin!] I glanced at Tiffany, not bothering to reply, and focused my gaze on Andrew beside her. “Mr. Vanderbilt, your family’s real estate company was just cited for code violations in Chicago last quarter, and your main lender is threatening to recall the loan, correct?” Andrew had been observing me with a frivolous, dismissive look. Hearing my words, his face changed dramatically, from cocky to pale. I smiled slightly. “You’re not trying to fix this crisis, instead, you’re here, showing off your date and wasting time. Your grandfather must be proud.” “You… who are you? How do you know all this?!” His voice was already trembling slightly. These matters had been kept quiet, if they spread in this setting, it would ruin his family’s reputation and possibly cost them the loan. “If I were you, I’d immediately go talk to Mr. Carter from JPMorgan.” I nodded towards a gray-haired man across the room. “He has a sum of idle funds right now that he’s looking to invest in real estate. A few kind words from you might be enough to save your family’s company, instead of asking meaningless questions.” Andrew looked in the direction I pointed, his face a mixture of green and white. Finally, he glared fiercely at Tiffany. “Didn’t you say she was a bookworm who only knew how to study? How does she know more about the industry than I do!” He flung Tiffany’s hand away and hurried towards Mr. Carter, his pride forgotten. “Andrew! Where are you going?!” Tiffany stomped her foot in anger, glaring at me, gnashing her teeth. “What on earth are you doing? Do you think reading a few financial articles makes you a big shot in this circle? You’re still just a poor, small-town nobody!” I ignored her exasperation. A commotion at the front of the hall caught my attention. The large doors were pushed open from outside, and the banquet hall immediately fell silent. All eyes turned to the entrance. A tall man walked in, his facial features sharp and distinct, high cheekbones, a strong jaw, dark eyes that seemed to see everything. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, no tie, exuding an air of quiet power. He merely nodded in response to everyone’s greetings, and the entire atmosphere changed with his presence. Whispers broke out: “That’s Julian Yan.” “He’s even more handsome in person.” “I heard he just closed a $2 billion deal in Asia.” Julian Yan had arrived.

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When the CEO laid eyes on my resignation letter, he summoned me into his office. His face was etched with confusion as he asked me why I was still dissatisfied, pointing out that I had just received a year-end bonus of six hundred thousand dollars. I stared back at him expressionlessly, telling him there was actually only six hundred dollars left in my account. A scowl creased the CEO’s brow as he immediately called the Director of Finance on speakerphone right in front of me. A sycophantic voice came through the line, explaining that five hundred ninety-nine thousand, four hundred dollars had been transferred to the CEO’s wife’s account, and that he had covered his tracks perfectly. The CEO’s face turned a sickly shade of green in an instant. 1 When Dominic called me into his office, my resignation letter was already sitting on his massive mahogany desk. He tapped his index finger against the heavy paper. His eyes shifted from the document to my face, clouded with genuine confusion. “Scarlett, didn’t the year-end bonuses just go out? Six hundred thousand dollars. You got the highest payout in the entire company.” “What exactly are you dissatisfied with?” I stood perfectly straight, keeping my eyes locked on his. “Six hundred thousand?” “There are exactly six hundred dollars in my account.” The confusion on Dominic’s face instantly warped into a deep, aggressive scowl. He snatched his phone off the desk and dialed the Director of Finance. The moment the call connected, Dominic hit the speaker button. Richard’s signature sycophantic voice immediately echoed through the quiet office. “Mr. Reed, rest assured. It is all handled.” “That five hundred ninety-nine thousand, four hundred dollars has been transferred directly into your wife’s private account, down to the exact cent.” “I made sure the books are squeaky clean. Completely untraceable.” The air in the office turned to solid concrete. I watched Dominic’s face transition from bewildered, to horrified, and finally to a sickly, ashen green. On the other end of the line, Richard kept talking, completely oblivious. “Honestly, sir, your wife had a great point.” “She said a young girl like Scarlett might get reckless with that kind of cash. Having the company ‘safeguard’ the bulk of it is really for her own good.” “It was a brilliant move, don’t you think?” “Shut up.” Dominic forced the two words through his teeth. His voice dripped with absolute zero temperatures. He slammed his finger onto the end-call button. The office plunged back into a suffocating silence. I remained standing there, my expression completely blank, as if I were watching a movie that had nothing to do with me. The truth was, I was waiting. Waiting for Dominic to give me an explanation. Or rather, waiting for him to justify this absolute trainwreck to himself. His chest heaved. He was practically vibrating with rage. It took him a full thirty seconds to look up at me. The usually sharp, composed eyes of the CEO were currently caught in a violent storm. He wasn’t just looking at me. He was looking right through me, realizing something incredibly ugly about his own life. “When did you find out?” he asked. His voice sounded like cracked glass. “When the bank notification popped up on my lock screen,” I replied. My tone was flat. “Six hundred bucks.” “At first, I thought payroll had a glitch in the software.” “So, I pulled up my official pay stub.” “It clearly stated my year-end bonus was six hundred thousand dollars.” Dominic squeezed his eyes shut, fighting a losing battle to keep his composure. “And your first instinct was to just quit?” “Yes.” “Without even asking me about it?” A hint of accusation bled into his tone. “Mr. Reed.” I finally used his formal title. “I have bled for Apex Tech for five years.” “I climbed from an intern to the Director of Operations. I know for a fact that I have earned every single penny this company has ever paid me.” “I trusted the corporate structure here. I trusted you.” “But I do not trust a financial department that can magically turn a six-hundred-grand bonus into six hundred dollars.” “That is not a glitch.” “That is an insult.” I spoke calmly. No tears. No screaming. Just cold, hard facts. Dominic fell silent. He knew damn well it wasn’t a glitch. Richard had spelled it out perfectly on the speakerphone. Transferred to your wife’s account. He just didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t fathom that the elegant, highly educated, picture-perfect woman he married would go behind his back to pull off something so incredibly cheap. Stealing an employee’s bonus? A massive six-figure sum? That wasn’t just simple greed. That was actively taking a sledgehammer to the foundation of his company. He took a deep breath and picked up his phone again. This time, his thumb hovered over the screen. He hesitated. I knew exactly who he was about to call. Victoria. His wife. I watched him quietly. I didn’t rush him. I didn’t interrupt. He had to rip this band-aid off himself. Finally, his jaw tightened, and he pressed the call button. Speakerphone again. The phone rang twice before connecting. A voice sweet enough to cause cavities drifted out of the speaker. “Hey honey. You’re calling early today. Miss me already?” It was Victoria. I lowered my gaze, hiding the ice in my eyes. This was the exact same voice that had called me just a few days ago, hissing: “Scarlett, don’t push your luck. Dominic pays you to be a worker bee, not to bleed him dry. That six hundred dollars is your phone stipend for the month. Learn your place.” Dominic swallowed hard. “Vic,” he started, his vocal cords tight. “I need to ask you something.” “Ask away, babe. What’s going on?” She sounded genuinely cheerful. “What happened to Scarlett’s year-end bonus?” He articulated every single syllable. There was a microsecond of dead silence on the other end of the line. It was incredibly brief. Almost imperceptible. But both Dominic and I caught it. 2 “Scarlett?” Victoria’s voice chimed back in. She had dialed up the innocent confusion to an award-winning level. “Her bonus? How would I know anything about that? Honey, you know I never interfere with your corporate stuff.” Her voice was soft, but it wrapped around Dominic’s nerves like a venomous snake. I noticed Dominic’s knuckles turning bone-white as he gripped his phone. “Richard just told me he wired a massive sum of money into your private account.” Dominic’s voice was dropping an octave, desperately trying to hold onto his dignity. “Money? Oh…” Victoria dragged out the vowel, pretending to search her memory. “Right, I remember now! Richard did wire me some funds. He mentioned the company had some tricky off-the-books accounting to deal with, and he just needed to park the cash in my account temporarily for liquidity.” “Don’t worry, honey. I’ve got it tucked away safe and sound.” “Does the company need it back right now? I can wire it over immediately.” It was a flawless performance. Bulletproof. She painted herself as the ultimate supportive wife, quietly handling her husband’s dirty corporate laundry behind the scenes. If Dominic hadn’t just heard Richard groveling on speakerphone five minutes ago, he probably would have bought the lie. But right now, her sweet words sounded like nails on a chalkboard. “Tricky off-the-books accounting?” Dominic repeated her words, the sarcasm practically dripping onto the desk. “Victoria, do you honestly think I am an idiot?” The venom in his tone clearly shocked her. “Honey? What is wrong with you? Why are you talking to me like this?” She expertly pivoted to playing the victim. “Is… is Scarlett in the room with you?” She suddenly switched targets, aiming straight for my throat. “Babe, do not listen to a word that manipulative bitch says! You know exactly what she’s trying to do!” “She is just a pretty young subordinate who constantly flaunts herself in your office. She’s desperate to sleep her way to the top!” “Did she come crying to you? Saying I bullied her?” “I swear to God, Dominic! I know how hard it is for a young girl to make it in the city. I’ve always gone out of my way to look out for her. How could she invent such disgusting lies about me?” Victoria’s voice escalated into a hysterical, tearful pitch. Her ability to completely rewrite reality made the air in the office feel toxic. Dominic looked physically ill. He stared at me, his eyes swirling with a chaotic mess of emotions. Anger. Doubt. The sheer agony of being betrayed by his own family. I knew exactly what was happening in his head. He was caught in a psychological meat grinder. On one side: his top executive, the woman who had single-handedly secured millions in revenue for his firm. On the other side: the woman who shared his bed. Human nature dictates that people want to believe the ones they sleep next to. Subconsciously, he was trying to find a way to make Victoria the victim and me the homewrecker. It was the oldest, cheapest trick in the corporate playbook. The “jealous wife claiming the female employee is a homewrecker” card. It was practically unblockable. “Put Scarlett on the phone. Now.” Victoria snapped an order through the speaker. The sweet wife routine was gone; she was now demanding obedience like royalty. Dominic shot me a look, silently asking what I wanted to do. I didn’t move a muscle. I just looked back at him. Then, I slowly shook my head. Argue with her? Not a chance. It would just devolve into a screaming match, and I refused to drag myself down to her level of the gutter. “Mr. Reed,” I said. My voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the noise perfectly. “It seems this is a domestic dispute.” “Since that is the case, please process my resignation.” “As for my stolen compensation, my lawyers will be in touch with your legal department by tomorrow morning.” I turned on my heel and headed for the door. My goal was already accomplished. The grenade had been dropped right in Dominic’s lap. How he dealt with his wife was his problem. All I cared about was getting my cash and getting out. “Stop right there!” Dominic barked from behind his desk. I stopped walking but didn’t bother turning around. “Nobody leaves this room until we get to the bottom of this!” His voice was a desperate, commanding bark. I slowly turned around, meeting his gaze with absolute ice. “What else is there to discuss, Mr. Reed?” “Do you seriously think she is lying about you?” He pointed at the phone, his chest heaving. “You already know what the truth is,” I replied. “I need proof!” Dominic’s eyes were bloodshot. “Scarlett, I know how you operate. You are surgical. You wouldn’t walk in here and drop a resignation letter on my desk with nothing but a bank screenshot!” “Give me the smoking gun. Give me something that forces me to believe you!” He was practically begging. He was cornering me, but more importantly, he was cornering himself. He needed me to hand him the sledgehammer that would finally shatter his delusions about his marriage. Watching a powerful man break down like this didn’t make me feel an ounce of pity. I reached into my designer tote bag and pulled out a secondary device. It was a cheap, prepaid burner phone I strictly used for two-factor authentication codes. I hit a single button on the keypad. A crystal-clear audio recording blasted through the phone’s tiny speaker. It was Victoria. But the sweet, innocent tone was completely absent. She sounded vicious, arrogant, and cruel. “Let’s get one thing straight, Scarlett.” “My husband’s company is my company. I decide who gets paid and who gets starved.” “Six hundred thousand dollars? For you? Don’t make me laugh.” “You are nothing but a dog on Dominic’s leash. I am tossing you a six-hundred-dollar bone. You should be wagging your tail and thanking me.” The recording bounced off the glass walls of the office. The desperate hope on Dominic’s face died instantly. He looked like a corpse. On the speakerphone, Victoria’s fake crying abruptly stopped. She had heard it too. 3 “Scarlett! You little bitch! You recorded me?!” Victoria’s shrill, panicked scream exploded from the desk phone. Her mask had completely melted off, exposing the ugly, raving lunatic underneath. Dominic looked like someone had just severed his spine. He swayed on his feet and braced both hands against the edge of his desk just to stay upright. He stared blankly at the burner phone in my hand. His lips trembled, but no sound came out. The audio file kept playing. My own voice, calm and detached, echoed in the room. “Victoria, that bonus is legally contracted compensation for my labor. You have zero legal authority to withhold it.” Then came Victoria’s mocking laughter. “Legal? In this building, I am the law! One word from me, and not only do you lose your money, but you get blacklisted from the entire tech sector!” “Don’t flatter yourself just because you closed a few deals for my husband. To him, you are just a replaceable cog in a machine.” “Take your six hundred bucks and get out. If you try to make a scene, I will personally ruin you.” “I will make sure the entire industry thinks you are a gold-digging slut who tried to sleep her way into the C-suite and got fired for it.” The recording clicked off. The office fell into a graveyard silence. The only sound was the heavy, frantic static of Victoria’s breathing coming through the speakerphone. I slipped the burner phone back into my bag without breaking eye contact with Dominic. All the color had drained from his face. Pain, humiliation, rage, and the devastating realization of ultimate betrayal violently clashed in his eyes. In the end, it all settled into a bottomless, hollow exhaustion. He aged a decade in sixty seconds. His own wife had used the most vile, venomous language imaginable to degrade his most valuable executive. She hadn’t just stolen the money. She had weaponized his name, acting like a tyrant, treating the very foundation of his company like dirt beneath her designer heels. Replaceable cogs. A dog on a leash. Hearing those words spoken in his wife’s voice was the ultimate slap in the face. “Dominic… babe… please let me explain… it’s not what you think…” Victoria finally found her voice again. She was stammering, desperate. “She… she provoked me! She insulted me first! That audio is edited! It’s a deepfake!” Her lies were so pathetic they were almost insulting. Dominic slowly reached out. He picked up the desk phone and pressed it to his ear. His movements were sluggish, like he was moving underwater. “Victoria.” His voice was wrecked. It sounded like he had swallowed broken glass. “When we got married, I handed you an unlimited black card. I told you to buy whatever you wanted. No limits.” “I told you the wife of the CEO of Apex Tech should never have to look at a price tag.” “I give you an eight-figure allowance every single year.” “So tell me. Why the hell did you need to steal six hundred grand from Scarlett?” Every word struck like a hammer blow. It hit Victoria. And it hit me. She wasn’t hurting for cash. She didn’t need the money. She did this for the power. She did it for the twisted, sociopathic thrill of holding someone’s livelihood hostage. She wanted to prove that my entire career, my entire existence, meant absolutely nothing compared to her status. Victoria was completely speechless. “I… I just wanted to put her in her place…” she whispered, resorting to her final, desperate defense. “People were talking, Dominic. They said she was getting too much credit. That she didn’t respect you anymore. I just wanted to break her ego a little bit, so she wouldn’t become a threat to you…” “Heh.” A short, brutal laugh escaped Dominic’s throat. “Break her ego?” “You target my core Director of Operations, you cut off the right arm of my company, and you expect me to believe you did it for my benefit?” “Victoria. You absolutely disgust me.” He didn’t give her another second to speak. He slammed the phone down onto the receiver. He slowly lifted his head. His eyes were completely bloodshot. “I am sorry.” He forced the words out. “This is my failure.” “I failed to manage my own house, and you suffered for it.” I didn’t respond. I just looked at him. An apology? What was the point? The damage was done. The second trust shatters in the corporate world, you can never glue it back together. “I will wire you the missing funds immediately.” Dominic swallowed hard. “I am also adding another six hundred thousand as an inconvenience bonus.” “Richard is fired. I am turning him over to the feds by the end of the day.” “As for Victoria…” He paused. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I will make sure you get justice there, too.” “Scarlett. Please. For the sake of the last five years…” “Don’t leave.” He finally laid his cards on the table. The apologies, the double bonus, the firing of the CFO. It was all a desperate bid to keep me in the building. The massive enterprise software contract I had just secured was entering its critical execution phase next month. I built that deal from the ground up. I knew where all the bodies were buried. If I walked out that door, a multi-billion-dollar project would crash and burn. That was what he actually cared about. I looked at the desperate plea in his eyes and slowly shook my head. “It’s too late, Dominic.” My heart was ice cold. Staying in this building for even one more second made my skin crawl. “The resignation stands.” “I won’t be logging on tomorrow.” My tone was absolute. Zero room for negotiation. The last remaining drops of color vanished from Dominic’s face. He knew he had lost me. His wife had personally taken his sharpest weapon and snapped it over her knee. I turned around, opened the heavy glass door, and walked out. Behind me, Dominic slumped heavily into his leather chair, surrounded by the wreckage of his pride. I didn’t look back. The moment I stepped out of the Apex Tech high-rise, the California sun hit my face. I took a deep breath. I felt incredibly light. My phone buzzed in my pocket. A banking notification. Incoming wire transfer to account ending in 3945: $1,200,000.00. Available Balance: $1,200,600.00. The money was there. My original bonus, plus the penalty fee. Dominic moved fast. But I knew exactly what this was. It wasn’t just compensation. It was hush money. He was terrified I would leak the audio to the press, tank the company’s stock, and turn his marriage into a tabloid circus. I smirked and swiped the notification away. He thought cash could fix everything. But he was about to learn that there are some things a wire transfer cannot buy. Like loyalty. Or what I was about to do next. 4 I didn’t go home. I hailed a black car and gave the driver an address in the financial district. We pulled up to a massive, imposing limestone building. It didn’t have the sleek, modern glass aesthetic of Apex Tech. It screamed old money and ruthless power. A heavy brass plaque by the entrance read: Reed Holdings. Reed Holdings was the parent conglomerate of Apex Tech. It was the absolute core of the Reed family empire. Dominic’s father, Tony Reed, the legendary tycoon who built the empire from scratch, had technically retired. But his private office was still on the top floor. I walked into the grand lobby. The concierge immediately stood up. “Ms. Scarlett. Mr. Reed is expecting you.” I nodded and bypassed security, heading straight for the private executive elevator. Half an hour ago, while riding away from Apex Tech, I had called Tony’s chief of staff. I told him I had a catastrophic operational risk to report regarding Apex Tech, and I needed five minutes with the Chairman. I got my confirmation in less than three minutes. The elevator doors slid open to a dark wood-paneled executive suite. Tony Reed sat behind a massive desk, nursing a glass of neat bourbon. He was in his late sixties, with silver hair and eyes like a hawk evaluating its prey. “Have a seat, Scarlett.” He gestured to the leather chair across from him. His tone was perfectly level. I sat down and rested my bag on my lap. “Tony,” I started. “You mentioned a catastrophic risk,” he said, taking a slow sip. “Let me guess. My son screwed up again?” He used the word again. Clearly, Dominic’s management style was not a secret to his father. I didn’t answer with words. I opened my bag and placed three items on the pristine desk. First, my bank statement, with the $600 deposit circled in red ink. Second, the cheap burner phone. Third, a freshly printed screenshot of the $1.2 million wire transfer I had received twenty minutes ago. I slid them across the polished wood. “Tony. This is a fatal flaw in Apex Tech’s financial security.” “This is a total breakdown of executive management.” “And this,” I tapped the printout of the $1.2 million transfer, “is your son attempting to use corporate funds as a golden parachute to bury his wife’s crimes.” I didn’t sugarcoat a single syllable. I didn’t mention Victoria by name. I didn’t frame it as a domestic issue. I stripped all emotion out of it. I framed it purely as a corporate liability. A financial disaster. Because when you are talking to a titan like Tony Reed, the only language that matters is leverage and risk. Tony’s hawk-like eyes scanned the three items. He picked up the bank statement first, his brow furrowing slightly. Then, he picked up the burner phone. I leaned forward and pressed play. Victoria’s vicious rant echoed in the quiet, opulent office. “…You are nothing but a dog on Dominic’s leash…” When the recording hit that specific line, the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. Tony wasn’t angry that Victoria was a bitch. He was furious that someone had the audacity to refer to the core intellectual capital of his empire as a dog. That kind of arrogance destroys empires. When the audio finished, he remained silent. Finally, he picked up the screenshot of the wire transfer. “One point two million,” Tony murmured. “He paid what he owed, and he doubled it as an apology. Dominic isn’t entirely cheap.” “Tony, this isn’t about him being generous.” I corrected him without hesitation. “It is about him being compromised.” “He thinks throwing cash at a problem makes it disappear. But the money isn’t the root issue.” “The issue is that your Chief Financial Officer is willing to launder a million dollars to appease the CEO’s wife.” “The issue is that an executive’s spouse holds enough unchecked power to fire, starve, and blacklist your most vital personnel.” “Today, this happened to me. Tomorrow, it happens to the lead developers. Next week, it happens to the VP of Sales.” “When a corporate hierarchy can be hijacked by a spouse’s temper tantrum, that company is dead in the water.” My words were heavy artillery. Tony went dead silent. He looked at me, really looked at me. The predatory gleam in his eyes softened into something resembling genuine respect. He set his bourbon glass down. “You are a very smart girl.” His voice was a low rumble. “Much sharper than my son, who currently has his head shoved entirely up his own ass.” “I understand the situation.” He gave me his word. “I built Apex with my own bare hands. I will not watch it be cannibalized from the inside.” “I don’t care whose name is on the marriage certificate.” His words were spoken softly, but they carried the weight of an executioner’s axe. I knew I had won. I stood up, smoothing out my skirt. “Tony, my resignation is already filed. As of noon today, I no longer work for Apex Tech.” “Thank you for your time.” I gave him a crisp nod and turned toward the elevator. “Hold on a second.” Tony’s voice stopped me. “What’s your next move?” he asked. “Take some time off. See what the market looks like,” I replied honestly. “Right,” he nodded slowly. “You’ve earned a break. It’s been a hell of a run these last five years.” “Save my direct line in your contacts. When you get bored of sitting on a beach, call me.” “There will always be a seat for you at Reed Holdings.” That was a massive, unexpected victory. But I kept my face totally neutral. “Thank you, Tony.” I walked onto the elevator. The moment the doors slid shut and I was back on the street, I finally let out a long, heavy exhale. The fuse was lit. The explosion was now strictly Reed family business. And I was safely outside the blast radius. 5 When Dominic walked through the front door of his sprawling estate, the house was dead quiet. Victoria was sitting on the velvet sofa in the main living room, wearing a silk robe. A half-empty glass of red wine sat on the coffee table. She was clearly waiting for him. The second he walked in, she sprang up. Her face was a mask of panic and victimhood. “Dom, baby, you’re home… Please, you have to let me explain. It’s really not what it sounded like…” Dominic completely ignored her. He walked over to the adjacent armchair, slowly slipped off his tailored suit jacket, and tossed it aside. He undid his tie with slow, mechanical precision. Every movement was heavy, deliberate, and suffocating. Victoria felt the panic rising in her throat. “Say something, please… you’re scaring me…” She reached out to grab his forearm. Dominic took a sharp step back, dodging her touch like she was contagious. His eyes were completely hollow as he stared at her. “What is left to explain?” His voice was terrifyingly calm. “Explain how you conspired with Richard to siphon company payroll into your private accounts?” “Or maybe explain how you weaponized my name to threaten and humiliate my best executive?” “Victoria, I had no idea you were such a brilliant criminal.” The words sliced into her like a scalpel. All the color drained from Victoria’s face. “I… I wasn’t trying to steal! I just made a stupid mistake!” She burst into tears, large drops rolling perfectly down her cheeks. “I was jealous! Okay? I was so incredibly jealous! She gets to spend all day with you. She solves your problems. Everyone in your inner circle talks about how you can’t run the business without her!” “I was terrified! I thought she was going to steal my husband!” “I just wanted to teach her a lesson. I wanted to remind her who the wife is! I swear to God, I wasn’t thinking!” She sobbed, playing the tragic role of a woman driven mad by love. A few years ago, that performance would have earned her a tight hug and a diamond necklace. Tonight, Dominic just watched her perform with absolute disgust. “Jealous?” He scoffed. “So your jealousy is worth exactly five hundred ninety-nine thousand, four hundred dollars?” “You wanted to prove you were the lady of the house, so you treated her like a stray dog?” “Drop the act, Victoria. It’s pathetic.” “I didn’t come home to listen to your excuses.” Dominic reached into his briefcase. He pulled out a thick stack of legal documents and dropped them onto the glass coffee table with a heavy thud. The bold, black letters across the top page were impossible to miss. PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE. Victoria’s fake sobbing stopped instantly. She stared at the divorce papers, then looked up at Dominic in sheer horror. “A divorce? You want a divorce?” Her voice pitched up into a hysterical screech. “Over that bitch? Are you out of your mind?!” “We have been married for seven years! Seven years, Dominic! And you’re throwing me out over an employee?” “I am not crazy,” Dominic said, his expression completely dead. “You are.” “You can play your pathetic high-society games with anyone you want. But you touched the core of my business.” “You alienated every single person who bleeds for my company.” “You turned me into a joke who can’t even protect his own staff!” “This isn’t about another woman.” “This is about Apex. And it is about me.” Victoria’s facade totally crumbled. She stared at the cold, ruthless man in front of her and finally realized that tears weren’t going to save her. Her face twisted into something feral. “Fine! You want to play hardball, Dominic? Let’s play!” “You think dumping me is going to be cheap? Half of Apex Tech belongs to me! It is marital property!” “You want to kick me to the curb? I will drag you through court for years! I will take half your empire! I’ll leak this to the press and tank your stock overnight! I will leave you bankrupt!” She was screaming now, completely unhinged, revealing the sheer greed that had always lived beneath her skin. Dominic just watched her throw her tantrum. “Half the stock?” He let out a dark, mocking laugh, like he had just heard a joke. “Victoria, did you suffer a head injury? Have you forgotten the prenuptial agreement we signed?” “Every single share of Apex Tech is classified as a pre-marital asset. You don’t get a single penny of equity.” “As for the mansions, the sports cars, the jewelry… I’ve bought you tens of millions of dollars’ worth of toys over the last seven years.” “The contract states you get to keep all of that.” “I will also cut you a final severance check. You’ll never have to work a day in your life.” “Sign the papers. It is the last shred of dignity you’re going to get.” Victoria froze. The prenup. Of course she remembered it. When they signed it, Dominic had kissed her forehead and told her it was just standard legal red tape to keep his father’s lawyers happy. He told her not to worry about it. She had been so blinded by the glamorous wedding that she signed it without letting her own lawyer read it. She thought it was just a meaningless stack of paper. Tonight, that paper was a death warrant. He had been protecting his assets from her since day one. The unconditional love was a myth. “Dominic!” Victoria’s eyes were practically glowing with venom. “You set me up!” “I will never sign this! I would rather die! I will go to the tabloids! I will tell them everything! I will ruin your reputation!” Dominic looked at her with ultimate exhaustion. “Do whatever you want.” He turned around and headed for the front door, not looking back once. “But let me give you one final piece of advice.” He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “Richard is already in federal custody.” “He rolled over immediately. He handed the feds a mountain of evidence proving you manipulated him into cooking the books and committing wire fraud.” “He also mentioned he kept meticulous ledgers on all the other little ‘investments’ you’ve been making behind my back using company leverage.” “Victoria. Unless you want to spend the next fifteen years wearing an orange jumpsuit in a federal penitentiary…” “You will sign those papers by tomorrow morning.” He opened the door and walked out into the night. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind him. Victoria collapsed onto the marble floor. She stared at the divorce papers, the absolute silence of the massive house crushing the last remaining breath out of her lungs.

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My son and I were in a car crash on our way to confront my husband. When we woke up, we couldn’t remember a thing. And my husband, a psychologist, left us to travel the world with his old flame and her daughter, both of whom he claimed were suffering from severe depression. Eventually, our memories started to return. He noticed that the amnesia had changed us. We were quieter, more compliant. Independent. At first, he seemed pleased with himself, confident that he had perfectly balanced his family and his obligations to his old flame. That lasted until New Year’s Eve. He spent the holiday with them, and when he finally came home, he overheard a conversation between my son and me through the front door. My son asked, “Mommy, is that man really my dad? It feels weird every time I have to call him that.” I nodded. “I know what you mean. He’s not my type at all. I have no idea why I ever married him.” My son’s eyes lit up. “Mommy, you like Mr. Reed, don’t you? Every time he sees you after school, his ears turn so red they look like they’re about to bleed. And he’s always making up excuses to drive us home… I think you’ve got a shot!” I blushed and was about to shush him when he leaned in close. He whispered in a voice he thought was quiet but was perfectly audible from the hallway, “Mommy… what if we just… got a new dad?” 1. For dinner, I’d ordered two servings of ghost pepper wings. My son and I were sweating profusely, our mouths on fire, when a familiar yet distant voice cut through the air from behind us. “You didn’t wait for me?” We both flinched. Turning around, we saw a handsome man standing in the doorway, a chill radiating from him that had nothing to do with the winter air. His features were a clear echo of our son’s. It was Alistair Finch. My husband. My son’s father. He stepped closer, his brow furrowing in disgust at the sight of our grease-stained mouths and the fiery wings on the table. “We’ve been married for six years. Don’t you know I have a stomach condition? I can’t eat anything spicy.” My son, Noah, still gnawing on a wing, mumbled, “We didn’t get them for you. These are for us.” Alistair froze. I forced a dry laugh, trying to smooth things over. “Well, I saw on your social feed that you were at the amusement park with Serena and her daughter. I just assumed you’d be eating with them…” “Nina,” he cut me off, his voice laced with its usual impatience. “I’ve explained this. Serena and her daughter were abandoned by her husband. They have severe depression. I’m their doctor. It’s my professional duty.” “And you?” he continued, his tone turning colder. “As a wife and a mother, not only did you cause a scene at my clinic, but you’ve taught Noah to be nothing but a jealous, petty child.” He paused, his voice dropping to an icy whisper. “Wasn’t the car crash enough to make you two learn your lesson?” The memories flooded back. I remembered the moment I found out his round-the-clock “patient care” was actually for his high school sweetheart. I’d taken Noah and stormed his clinic to confront him. He had pulled us into a corner, his face a mask of weary resignation. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you. I’m a doctor, Nina. I can’t just abandon my patients. It’s irresponsible.” “Don’t you dare make a scene in front of them with our son.” His calm, clinical tone made Noah and me feel like a pair of hysterical lunatics. So, I’d hired people to hold up banners outside his clinic: “SERENA AND DAUGHTER SEDUCE MARRIED MAN.” Noah had taken a megaphone to kindergarten and chased her daughter, Poppy, around the playground, shouting, “Her mom’s a homewrecker! Don’t play with her!” After that, Serena and Poppy had a public breakdown, threatening to jump from a building. To force us to back down, Alistair got me fired from my job and made sure Noah was ostracized at school. I finally shattered, threatening divorce. He relented, promising to keep his distance from them. And we believed him. We even booked a trip for our five-year anniversary, counting down the days to his rare vacation. We went to pick him up from the clinic, hearts full of excitement, only to receive a single, cold phone call. “A last-minute work trip. We’ll have to postpone the vacation.” We left, heartbroken. But as we rounded the corner, we overheard his colleagues chatting and laughing. “Dr. Finch is really dedicated to that Ms. Serena, isn’t he? Taking a six-month leave of absence just to oversee their recovery therapy!” “I know! I heard they’re on their way to the airport right now. He’s personally escorting them.” A roaring filled my ears, and a raw, physical pain tore through my chest. Before the tears could fall, I saw Noah’s small, pale face looking up at me, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. His voice trembled. “Mommy… does Daddy… does he really not want us anymore?” That single question made my sanity crumble. I grabbed his hand and we ran, a desperate need for an answer propelling us forward. We had to know. Did he still want this family, or not? We never caught up to him. The car crash came first. When we woke up, the world was a blank slate. We only remembered each other. And he, in turn, simply let us be forgotten. The memories receded. Noah and I exchanged an awkward glance. The facts were back, but the feelings weren’t. We couldn’t even comprehend the hysterical people we used to be. We stammered out apologies and promised we would never bother them again. Alistair’s expression only darkened. After a long silence, he slipped back into his familiar role of the one in control. “I’m taking them to the national park for a therapy session tomorrow. I need you to pack a lunch for three.” “And Noah, I need you to prepare a second set of your class notes for Poppy.” He turned to leave, adding over his shoulder, “You’d be wise to keep your promise this time. No more… embarrassing behavior.” The door clicked shut. Noah and I looked at each other and shrugged in unison. Then, I pulled out my phone and ordered a deluxe catered lunch to be delivered to the park for three. Noah messaged his teacher and politely requested a digital copy of the class materials. As for tomorrow? We already had plans to go hiking with Mr. Reed. We didn’t have time to worry about them. 2. Early the next morning, Serena’s soft voice drifted from the living room. “Alistair, is it just going to be us? Maybe… maybe we should ask Nina and Noah to come? I’m worried they’ll get the wrong idea. It’s not about me, of course, but Poppy is so fragile…” Poppy’s small voice chimed in. “It’s okay, Mommy. I’m fine. Noah… he didn’t mean it.” Alistair’s tone was gentle. “It’s okay, Poppy. Don’t worry about it. If we bring them, there’s no telling what kind of scene they’ll make. It wouldn’t be good for your recovery.” I sighed, rolled over, and drifted back to sleep. The next time I opened my eyes, I was being dragged from my bed by a rough hand. Alistair was practically hauling me into the living room. “Look at what your perfect son has done!” he seethed, his voice a low growl. “Just look at what he did to Poppy!” Serena was cradling a trembling Poppy, who was covered in food stains, her eyes red from crying. My son was sitting amidst a mess of spilled food, his small hands clutching three lunch containers to his chest. His face was blotchy and red, and huge tears splashed onto the floor. “I didn’t push her!” he cried out. “She’s a thief! She stole the lunch Mommy made for me! I was just trying to get it back!” Alistair didn’t even glance at him. He was meticulously wiping Poppy’s face with a wet cloth, murmuring comforting words to Serena. Only after he was finished did he turn to me, a look of weary, I-told-you-so exhaustion in his eyes. “Nina, just because I asked you to make a couple of extra lunches, you had to stoop to this? Teaching your son to pull these kinds of disgusting stunts?” “You made a promise just last night. Did you forget already?” I took a deep breath, trying to remain patient. “I didn’t do anything, and I believe Noah is telling the truth. I put your lunches on the dining table. Maybe Poppy just grabbed the wrong ones by mistake…” “Enough,” Alistair snapped, his eyes dismissing me as if I were a terrible actress in a cheap play. “Stop the performance. I haven’t forgotten what you two are capable of. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. You need to take a long, hard look at yourself and figure out how to be a proper mother.” The words died in my throat. I remembered our agreement. We would each take a step back. As long as he kept his distance from Serena, we would be fine. After that, he did start coming home on time, reporting his every move. But if Poppy so much as scraped her knee at kindergarten, he would be the first one there, forcing Noah to apologize without even hearing his side of the story. When Noah tried to defend himself, Alistair would just stare at me coldly. “Nina, is your promise really that worthless? Stop this. Don’t exhaust all of my patience, all of my affection for you. If it comes to that, there will be nothing left for us to say.” The worst time, he had thrown the words at me like stones: “A son with a heart this black is no son of mine.” Noah was too young to bear such a thing. He had chased him out of the house, barefoot, his feet bleeding on the pavement, clinging to his father’s coat and confessing to crimes he never committed. “Daddy! I’m sorry! It was all my fault! I’ll never do it again! I’ll tell Poppy I’m sorry!” “Please don’t leave me and Mommy!” From that day on, my son never tried to defend himself again. I let out a soft sigh. What was the point of explaining? In his eyes, we were already convicted felons with a long history of offenses. I pulled Noah into my arms, my voice low and steady. “Noah, give them the lunchboxes.” His small body went rigid. Then, he scrubbed his face hard with the back of his hand, gave up the fight, and silently pushed the containers he’d been guarding so fiercely across the floor. Alistair didn’t look at us again. He bent down, scooped Poppy into his arms, and placed a steadying hand on Serena’s back, shielding them both as he turned and walked out the door. SLAM! The sound of the door was sharp and final, leaving the apartment in a dead, suffocating silence. It was just me and my son, surrounded by the mess on the floor. I quietly picked up a cloth and began to clean. Noah knelt down beside me, helping to pick up the scattered items. After a while, I asked softly, “Noah, if one day… Mommy and Daddy aren’t together anymore…” “Who would you want to live with?” I had asked him this once before, during the worst of our fights. He had sobbed his heart out then. “I don’t want you to split up! I want our family to be together forever!” But this time, he didn’t hesitate. He looked up at me, his eyes clear and certain. “I’ll stay with Mommy.” “No matter what happens, I’m with you, Mommy.” I looked at him, and a real smile spread across my face, the warmth of it melting away the last bit of ice in my heart. I ruffled his hair. “Okay.” Then there was nothing left to be afraid of. 3. Just as I wiped up the last of the mess, the doorbell rang. “Ms. Finch? Noah? Are you home?” Noah’s eyes lit up. “It’s Mr. Reed!” He scampered to the door and threw it open. Outside, a handsome young man with a kind face knelt down just in time to catch the small boy who launched himself into his arms. Seeing his red, swollen eyes, Mark Reed’s voice softened instantly. “What happened, Noah? Have you been crying?” The little guy buried his face in Mark’s shoulder and let out a muffled, heartbroken sob. “The lunch Mommy made… they took it…” “It’s okay,” Mark said, gently patting his back. “Mr. Reed made new ones. All of your and Mommy’s favorites.” He had a magic touch with kids. In a few sentences, Noah’s tears had turned to a watery smile. Mark finally looked up at me, a slightly apologetic smile on his face. “I’m sorry to intrude, Ms. Finch. You didn’t answer your phone, and I got a little worried.” “Please, don’t say that,” I said quickly. “You saved our lives, Mr. Reed. Call me Nina.” Six months ago, after the crash, it was Mark who had pulled us from the mangled car, running every red light to get us to the hospital. When he learned we had partial amnesia and our reflexes were slow, he took it upon himself to cook for us every day and handle Noah’s school drop-offs and pick-ups. Once our memories returned, he had gracefully retreated to a polite distance. But not long after hearing the full story of what led to the accident, he had somehow become Noah’s new kindergarten teacher. The tips of Mark’s ears turned pink. “Nina,” he said softly. “I’ve planned out the hiking route. We should get going.” He was as good as his word; everything was perfectly organized. He took all the heavy bags from me without a second thought. When Noah got tired, he knelt down effortlessly. “Hop on, Noah.” I felt a pang of guilt. “Don’t spoil him, Mark. You’re already carrying so much.” He just smiled, his hand hovering protectively near my back. “It’s nothing. I work out. I can handle it.” For some reason, looking at his clean-cut profile, my heart started to beat a little faster. The feeling hadn’t subsided even when we reached a rest area and he took Noah to buy some water. Just then, a small, familiar voice called out from a distance behind me. “Daddy! Let’s race!” It was followed by Serena’s cheerful tone. “Poppy, slow down! You’ll fall.” And finally, Alistair’s laughing reply. “Princess Poppy, Daddy’s gonna catch you!” I turned my head and my eyes locked with the three of them standing not far away.

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My husband Elias is the heir to the Shadowclaw pack Alpha. In the eighth year of our marriage, a group of Rogues ambushed the pack. Elias and I both died in their attack. When I woke again, we had returned to when we had just started dating. In my previous life, we were married for eight years. Our life should have been blissful, but he adamantly refused to have children. Later, I accidentally learned that he still couldn’t forget his first love, Serena. I was his fated mate. When he first met me, he broke up with Serena and swore on our wedding day that he would only love me for the rest of his life. But I never expected that after marriage, he still loved Serena. After being reborn, I decided to set us both free. We severed our mate bond and never saw each other again, becoming strangers. Eight years later, he had already become the Shadowclaw pack Alpha and announced at an inter-pack banquet that he and Serena would soon marry. Seeing me still attending the banquet alone, he mocked me. “Aisling, I know I’m charming, and you’ve loved me so deeply in both lifetimes that you can’t help yourself, but you don’t have to cling to me forever.” I pretended not to hear and took my son’s hand beside me. Elias’s face instantly turned bloodless, his eyes bloodshot as he demanded: “Didn’t you say you’d only love me for life? How could you have a child with someone else?!”

Eight years later at the joint pack banquet, Elias and I met again. After treating several patients in succession, I was dizzy with exhaustion. Without freshening up, I went straight to the banquet venue. In the crowd, Elias and Serena stood at the center with their fingers intertwined, receiving adoration from various werewolves. “Alpha Elias, you’re truly remarkable! Under your leadership these past years, Shadowclaw pack went from nearly being absorbed to firmly holding the northern territory. You’re a legend among us werewolves!” “Of course! I heard the Alphas from several surrounding packs are lining up to form alliances with him but can’t even get appointments. The meeting gifts alone are in the hundreds of thousands, worth years of our tributes.” “Alpha Elias, I have some resources. For old times’ sake, help me out?” Someone asked with a laugh: “Alpha Elias, seeing how sweet you and Serena are, are you getting married soon?” Serena’s cheeks flushed as she looked up at Elias tenderly. Elias squeezed her hand, his smile confident: “That’s right, February 25th.” Everyone offered congratulations. A werewolf suddenly asked: “Alpha Elias, you and Aisling were so passionate back in the day. Are you still in contact? I remember when you played guitar and sang love songs for Aisling in front of everyone!” Hearing my name, Elias’s smile froze for a moment, his lips pressed tight. But Serena gripped his hand tighter, her voice gentle and gracious: “Elias and I are about to get married. What do you think—has he moved on or not?” Everyone laughed and continued flattering them. But I remembered that the “love songs” the old acquaintance mentioned were what Elias had stayed up countless nights training to prepare when he confessed to me. In my previous life, at my 19th birthday party, I discovered Elias was my mate. And then I completely fell for him. He once cupped my face, his eyes blazing: “Aisling, I’ll marry you, mark you, make you the Luna of Shadowclaw pack!” I believed him and devoted myself wholeheartedly to him. Unfortunately, in my previous life, he deceived me. I walked into the banquet hall with a composed expression. Sharp-eyed old acquaintances immediately noticed me. “Aisling! You’re finally here—you’re late!” “Hey, for such a formal occasion, why didn’t you change into a proper dress? You just came in a casual shirt? Can’t afford one?” “Have you been living so poorly all these years? Do you need me to introduce you to a job?” Several people who saw my simple clothing couldn’t help but mock me. From the moment I appeared, Elias’s gaze locked onto me. I nodded slightly at him as a greeting. He froze, and those wolf eyes that once mesmerized me showed indiscernible emotions. “Aisling, after all these years, you’re still the same as before—no ambition.” Serena gently took Elias’s arm, looked me over, and said softly: “Elias, she hasn’t had it easy, but we shouldn’t keep rubbing salt in her wounds. After all, we’re old friends.” She changed her tone, “But wearing this to a banquet… is a bit casual. A woman over thirty should know to dress decently. I have a spare dress in my car. I’ll give it to you to wear so you’ll at least look presentable.” Her words drew a few low laughs.

Indeed, at that moment I contrasted sharply with them. Serena wore a haute couture gown, exquisite makeup, and a gentle smile. Elias was in a sharp suit, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, hair perfectly groomed, every gesture radiating elite sophistication. And I had just finished an all-nighter treating injured werewolves after a Rogue attack. My face was exhausted, wearing a wrinkled cotton shirt and pants, travel-worn. “Thank you, but no need.” I politely declined and went straight to the buffet area. Treating patients earlier had consumed too much energy. I was now hungry enough to eat an entire cow. Just as I was focused on eating, Elias suddenly walked over and placed a check beside my hand. Two hundred thousand. “This money—for old times’ sake, to help you out. You don’t need to pay it back. Go buy some nice clothes, find a decent job, treat yourself well.” “Aisling, let the past be the past. Don’t keep dwelling on memories.” “If back then… forget it, there’s no point talking about it now.” “What matters is, don’t give up on yourself just because I left, okay? You being like this makes things very difficult for me.” I set down my knife and fork and looked up at him in confusion. I suddenly found it laughable. What sin had I committed in my previous life to make him so decisive yet “merciful” in abandoning me after rebirth? In my previous life, we went from young and passionate to experiencing Shadowclaw pack’s rise and fall together. Shadowclaw pack was still a weak pack at the time. Elias was still the Alpha heir, constantly working to become Alpha, while I wanted to become a doctor and was always studying medicine. At that time, a highly skilled old doctor from another pack appreciated me and wanted to take me as a student. But because I loved him, I gave up the opportunity to advance my medical career and took on the pack’s logistics and medical affairs early on, using my meager strength to support our territory and his reputation within the pack. Time and again when he was injured in Rogue attacks and became dispirited, I shouldered all the treatment and recovery, coaxing and encouraging him with gentle words. I thought he understood my love. But when he was seriously injured once and urgently needed a rare herb for healing, and I showed difficulty because I couldn’t gather enough resources for equivalent exchange, he smashed all the medical equipment on the spot. He yelled at me with red eyes: “Aisling! It’s all your fault! If I hadn’t broken up with Serena, her family’s resources would definitely have brought me great help. I would have already become Alpha! How could I not even obtain one herb!” “Being with you was my biggest regret!” Later, he became dispirited for a long time. His father almost gave up on him and chose another son as the Alpha heir. And I was stabbed to pieces by his words of “regret,” unable to sleep night after night. But I didn’t give up. I wanted to salvage things. I hugged him and begged in a low voice: “Elias, let’s have a child, okay?” But he pushed me away hard, his eyes full of disgust: “I hate you! Having a child with you would make me sick! I will never have a child with you in this lifetime!” Those words were like ice picks piercing through me. The day those Rogues attacked the pack, when their poisoned blade pierced my chest, I actually felt a sense of relief. Now that we’ve both been reborn and tacitly chose to sever our mate bond and become strangers—that’s fine. I pushed the check back, my tone flat: “No need. I don’t need charity from strangers, thank you.”

Elias frowned, looking displeased. “Aisling, what do you mean? I’m a stranger?” I nodded: “What I wear is my freedom, and I can buy it myself. My job is also very respectable, not shameful. And I haven’t failed to move on. Donate this money to werewolves who need it.” His fingers holding the check turned slightly white, but he stood there without moving. Serena quickly walked over. Seeing the check, a flash of understanding crossed her eyes. Her face still wore a proper smile, but her tone had hardened: “Aisling, if you don’t want money, surely you’d accept a real job? I know a medical clinic at a fringe pack that’s short-handed. Five thousand a month. Not much, but you’d learn a skill and could eventually open your own clinic. I’ll give you the contact information for the person in charge. How about it?” I didn’t even raise my eyelids and continued eating. “Thank you, but I’m very satisfied with my current job and don’t plan to change.” Werewolves watching the excitement chimed in: “Aisling, stop being stubborn. They’re being kind to help you—don’t be ungrateful.” “Exactly. Living like this, can’t even afford nice clothes, coming to a banquet—isn’t it to make connections? The olive branch is right in front of you, and you’re still acting proud?” Serena’s face was plastered with a fake smile: “Everyone, don’t say that. Maybe Aisling really does like her current job.” She turned to me, “Aisling, we’re doing this for old times’ sake. Don’t be stubborn for the sake of pride.” I really couldn’t understand where this sense of superiority in forcing money and jobs on people came from. If we were being serious, all these people combined probably weren’t as wealthy as me. “Really no need, thank you.” Serena’s smile remained unchanged, but the contempt in her eyes was undisguised. Elias’s knuckles turned white gripping the check, and he began sneering: “You’re really pathetic! Given an opportunity and you don’t know how to take it—no wonder you’re poor!” This was like a signal. Several ill-intentioned werewolves gathered around. A portly werewolf walked up to me swaying with a wine glass. His eyes looked me up and down lecherously: “Aisling, seeing you so pitiful makes me feel bad. How about this—you let me touch your chest, and I’ll give you a thousand. Too little? I’ll add more.” Other werewolves laughed, and no one stopped him. I frowned. This banquet was truly foul. If I weren’t still waiting for someone, I would have left long ago. I was about to call a server when Elias suddenly grabbed the man’s wrist. His presence dropped dramatically, displaying his Alpha authority, his face terrifyingly dark. “What do you think this banquet is? If you want to throw your weight around, go somewhere else! She’s not someone you can touch!”

The man winced in pain but didn’t dare make a sound. Serena grabbed Elias: “Elias! What are you doing!” Elias’s eyes were ice cold: “I’m helping out, can’t you see? If you’re going to act crazy, I suggest getting your head checked!” He then threw the man’s hand aside. The man didn’t dare provoke Elias and could only glare at me viciously. I was somewhat surprised and glanced at Elias. He would actually help me? Serena could barely maintain her gentle expression and stiffly changed the subject: “I heard the Alpha King and his family are also upstairs. We’re lucky today—we might get to see them.” The werewolves got excited. “The Alpha King? That Caius who became Alpha King before thirty? I heard he married quite early, and the Luna Queen is so well protected she’s never appeared publicly!” “More than that! The Luna Queen seems to be a medical expert with quite exceptional medical skills!” “We might see them in person today? What a treat!” As the words fell, a group of Beta guards escorting a little boy about five or six years old walked into the hall. The crowd instantly erupted. “With this escort, it must be the Alpha King’s son! He’s so handsome!” The lecherous werewolf from earlier sidled up to me again, lowering his voice with foul breath: “Aisling, if it weren’t for Serena and Alpha Elias, how would someone like you ever be qualified to see such important people? If it were me, I’d have thanked them long ago. Just accept the arrangement obediently. Not only can you get that five-thousand-dollar job, but maybe…” His gaze swept over me lecherously, “You could also receive my affection.” I glanced at him coldly, preparing to call the guards. At that moment, the little boy being surrounded scanned the entire venue, and his gaze suddenly fixed on me. His previously expressionless little face instantly bloomed with a huge smile. He broke free from the guards and ran toward me. Under everyone’s astonished gaze, he plunged into my arms. “Mommy! I finally found you—”

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My mother was a witch who once saved the life of the Alpha of SilverFang Pack. After my mother passed away, Alpha Anderson found me and my sister. He told us we could each marry one of his sons. In my past life, Violet chose the Alpha’s heir, Caleb Anderson. But in the end, she was driven out of the Pack. Reborn to the day Violet and I chose our husbands, I discovered I could hear people’s thoughts. I heard Violet think: “This time, I must steal the good husband first.” Then she hurriedly dragged away the gentle husband I married in my previous life. And Caleb, who beat her every day in the past life, was left to me. I smiled. Did she really think the man I married before had good character? I was reborn to the day Violet and I were brought back to SilverFang Pack. In the Pack’s banquet hall, all important members gathered for a welcome ceremony held for us sisters. Alpha Anderson stood on the elevated platform, his two sons standing on either side. One was Caleb Anderson, Alpha Anderson’s eldest son, cold by nature. He had already been chosen as the Alpha’s heir. The other was Lucas Anderson, Alpha Anderson’s second son, gentle by nature. A perfectly measured smile hung on his face. [This time, I must steal the good husband first.] A female voice transmitted into my ears. It was Violet’s voice. I gripped my skirt tightly. Not only had I been reborn, but I could also hear people’s thoughts. And judging from these two sentences from Violet, she had also been reborn. Otherwise she couldn’t possibly say such things. Alpha Anderson’s voice echoed in the hall: “…Violet, Lily, you may freely choose one of my sons to become your mate.” Violet immediately stepped forward. “Lucas looks gentle and kind. May I… may I choose him?” After speaking, she secretly cast me a smug glance. [This life, you can take the beatings for me.] Her thoughts were crystal clear. Alpha Anderson nodded and looked at me. “Lily, since Violet has already chosen Lucas, then you will marry Caleb.” I stepped forward with a smile. “Yes, Alpha. I quite admire Caleb as well.” I turned and stood beside him. Caleb glanced down at me with no emotion whatsoever. Then he looked away, as if I were merely air. [What a beautiful little treasure.] Lucas’s voice came through. I whipped my head around and saw Lucas gently supporting Violet. A chill ran through my body, and I instinctively grabbed Caleb’s hand hanging at his side. His hand was large with prominent knuckles, and warmth transmitted through his skin, unexpectedly hot. He glanced sideways at me but didn’t pull his hand back. Although this man looked quite intimidating, I felt that staying with him was better than staying with that hypocritical psycho Lucas. In my past life, Violet had married Caleb. As the Alpha’s heir, Caleb was very capable and busy with Pack affairs all day long. I heard he was very cold toward his Mate… Violet sought him out repeatedly, but each time she was driven out of his room with injuries. As for Lucas, although his status in the Pack was inferior to Caleb’s, it was still enough to let me live comfortably in the Pack. He accompanied me every day, taking care of me attentively, spoiling me to the bone. Everyone in the Pack knew we had a good relationship. And later, Caleb suddenly died from poisoning. Alpha Anderson suspected Violet did it and drove her out of the Pack. Lucas then inherited the Alpha position. My status in the Pack instantly skyrocketed. Violet was jealous of me. When I went out, she drove into me, and we died together. But she didn’t know that Lucas wasn’t what he appeared to be… Lucas had always lived in his brother’s shadow. On the surface he pretended to be obedient and polite to everyone, but in reality he was a control freak and domestic abuser. He was just very clever—he never hit my face, so outsiders couldn’t tell at all. Every time he beat me savagely, he would then kneel down to apply medicine and beg my forgiveness. I closed my eyes. The pain from my previous life was still so real and clear. I shook my head, telling myself it was all in the past. This life, I must change my originally tragic fate. I want to control my own destiny, to be independent and not rely on anyone.

Violet and I held our wedding ceremonies together. In my past life, we also held them at this same time. Back then, Caleb didn’t come to the ceremony, but Lucas arrived early in the morning. Everyone said he was the more considerate husband. But in this life, Caleb didn’t miss the ceremony. Although he just stood to the side with a cold expression, I breathed a sigh of relief. After all, in the past life when Caleb didn’t attend the ceremony, Violet suffered much gossip and strange looks. But Violet looked somewhat frantic with rage. During the ceremony she kept glaring at me with resentful eyes, thinking: [Laugh all you want. I’ll see if you can still laugh after getting beaten later.] It wasn’t until the end of the ceremony that Violet impatiently said to Lucas: “I love you, Lucas.” Then she kissed his lips. After the kiss, she stared at me with a showing-off look. I knew she wanted to see me embarrassed. But I wasn’t stupid. I wouldn’t act like she did in the past life and leave the scene in anger. That made all the Pack members and Alpha Anderson present unhappy. I remember everyone said Violet wasn’t steady enough and didn’t deserve to be the Pack’s future Luna. So much so that after marriage, Caleb never gave her a kind look, making her suffer terribly in the Pack. I smiled graciously and didn’t rush to show affection in front of Caleb. Instead, I said to the members attending the ceremony: “Thank you all for your hard work throughout this day. I extend my regards to everyone and hope you enjoy the ball that follows.” As soon as I spoke, the murmuring below ceased. Alpha Anderson, seated in the place of honor, looked at me with newfound respect. SilverFang Pack was the most powerful Pack on the continent, deeply concerned with face and reputation. So as the mate of the Alpha’s heir, one must show proper bearing—not just compete for a man’s favor, but also care for the feelings of Pack members. Violet also saw Alpha Anderson’s gaze, and a flash of annoyance crossed her eyes. [How disgusting. I’ll definitely make you embarrass yourself later!] I felt that being able to hear thoughts was really a good thing. Having such a convenient ability made everything so much easier. When it was time for the opening dance, I calmly lifted my skirt and walked toward the center of the dance floor. Violet stared at me intently, counting in her mind [One, two, three.] The next second, I directly sidestepped and reached out to grasp Caleb’s hand. And Violet, who had been rushing toward me with wine, fell hard to the ground, the wine soaking her entire body. “Are you okay?” Lucas hurried to help her up. But in his mind he was criticizing: [What an idiot!] Everyone was looking this way. Alpha Anderson’s face was full of anger. “As the mate of the Alpha’s son, how can you be so careless?” “I’m… I’m sorry, Alpha Anderson. I didn’t mean to.” Violet quickly apologized, but her eyes showed unwillingness. If I were her, in this life I wouldn’t make trouble again—I’d just live peacefully. But she didn’t want me to have it easy, so naturally I wouldn’t suffer in silence either.

Because Violet made a fool of herself, the ceremony ended hastily. Alpha Anderson didn’t give her a kind look from beginning to end. But when looking at me, his eyes were full of approval. Alpha Anderson even instructed Caleb: “You must treat her well.” Because of the Alpha’s instruction, Caleb’s attitude toward me indeed became much warmer. That evening, Caleb actually returned to our bedroom. He opened the door, his face showing fatigue from handling affairs. In my past life, I heard from others in the Pack that Caleb didn’t return on the wedding night. Violet spent her wedding night alone in an empty room and was never marked by Caleb, becoming a laughingstock for everyone. She went to complain to Alpha Anderson but got scolded instead, told she was incompetent and couldn’t gain her own Mate’s attention. I hurried over. “Caleb, you must be tired today.” He only nodded and didn’t speak to me. I wasn’t angry. While Caleb was showering, I made the bed for him and prepared calming tea. Then I tidied up the sofa myself, preparing to sleep there alone. When Caleb came out and saw this scene, a trace of surprise flashed in his eyes. I quickly said: “You sleep on the bed, I’ll sleep on the sofa.” “Lily, are you playing hard to get?” He narrowed his eyes slightly, staring at me. Having just bathed, his chest was slightly exposed with water droplets clinging to it. I had to admit, his physique was truly striking. Worthy of being the Alpha’s chosen heir. I quickly looked away. “No, we didn’t have feelings for each other before. Sleeping together would be awkward for both of us.” “If possible, I’d like to cooperate with you.” “What do you mean?” “I know you don’t have feelings for me. I just want to live peacefully in the Pack—I don’t expect love. So we can maintain our independent lives privately and only maintain appearances publicly. If you find your destined Mate, I can step aside for her.” Hearing my words, he suddenly smiled. “You’re very smart.” “I was thinking the same thing. I can agree to this.” I only learned some herbal knowledge from my mother. I didn’t have the ability or confidence to control the heart of a future Alpha. After all, in the Pack, the members’ attitude toward me largely depended on the Alpha’s attitude toward me. I didn’t want to end up like Violet in the past life, ostracized by everyone. That wouldn’t benefit me at all. And clearly in the past life, there was intense conflict between him and Violet. I didn’t want to provoke him and repeat that mistake. So I chose to coexist peacefully with him. This life, I only wanted to control my own destiny and stand on my own two feet!

To maintain our public image of a harmonious relationship, I posted a photo of us together on social media. When it was time to sleep, he really did sleep in the big bed, leaving me alone on the sofa. He really didn’t know how to be considerate. Well, I should be content. The next morning, I was woken by the sound of Caleb’s morning workout. Early in the morning he was listening to music while doing high-intensity training. Sweat had already soaked his black tank top, outlining his clearly defined abs and bulging arm muscles. His movements were fluid and full of explosive power, each punch and kick accompanied by the sound of cutting through air. He had so much more strength than Lucas’s thin frame. “Stop staring. I’m not interested in you.” He suddenly spoke, ending his training. “Get dressed. Come with me for breakfast.” His subtext was clear: appear together, put on a show for everyone. Actually, I felt he was quite reasonable. Why did he have such conflict with Violet in the past life? After getting ready, I went out with Caleb. As soon as we left, I saw Violet and Lucas walking toward us hand in hand. Violet wore an overly revealing dress, with marks all over her collarbone and shoulders. She deliberately leaned close to show me. Her face was full of pride as she looked me up and down. Seeing that I wore a long-sleeved dress that completely covered my arms and legs, she thought to herself, then smiled smugly. [Wrapped up so tightly, she must have been beaten and is deliberately hiding the wounds.] “Lily, how was last night? You didn’t…” she deliberately inquired. I noticed that Luna Anderson was approaching from the other end of the corridor at that moment. This stern and serious noblewoman most detested improper dress and discussing private matters in public. But I had no intention of warning her. I just smiled. “Violet, according to Pack hierarchy, you should give the Alpha heir’s wife proper respect, not casually inquire about my private affairs.” Her face immediately darkened, and she bit her teeth in defiance. “Caleb never made such demands. What right do you have to demand this of me?” Then she looked at Caleb. “Caleb, say something.” I could feel the powerful, cold pressure from Caleb beside me spreading bit by bit. Lucas cursed in his mind: [Damn idiot, see if I don’t deal with you tonight!] Then he tugged Violet’s hand, signaling her to stop talking. But she remained completely unaware of how serious the situation was. Until Caleb spoke.

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I saved amnesiac Holt Thornton and worked myself to the bone for three years to support him. But after he recovered his memories, he called me a gold-digger who seduced him for money. He let his lover force liquor down my throat, personally signed the papers, and bulldozed the home where we’d survived together. After that fiasco, I had a gastric hemorrhage and lost two-thirds of my stomach. I left with nothing and fled far away. Later, when he learned the truth, he knelt before me with red-rimmed eyes, telling me over and over that he loved me, begging me to come back. I only calmly threw him a medical diagnosis. It said I was dying. Sage’s POV San Diego nights were always dazzlingly glamorous, enough to make your head spin. I stood in the most inconspicuous corner of the ballroom, like an out-of-place intruder. I wore a black evening gown that Holt Thornton had casually told his assistant to buy an hour ago. The size was one size too big, the neckline somewhat loose. But I could only hunch my shoulders slightly, trying hard to minimize my presence. Under the crystal chandelier not far away, Holt was surrounded by a group of business executives. His impeccably tailored cold gray custom suit made his already superior physique look even more striking. He stood with one hand in his pocket, fingers holding a wine glass, occasionally lowering his head to listen to the woman beside him speak, his lips curling into an extremely faint arc. The woman standing next to him was the only daughter of the Davis Corporation, Melanie Davis. She wore the latest custom starlight dress of the season, and the diamond necklace around her neck refracted light that stung my eyes. A perfect match of talent and beauty, made for each other. This was the phrase I’d heard most tonight. “Holt, you’ve had a bit too much to drink tonight.” Melanie’s voice was soft and delicate as she naturally reached out to straighten Holt’s tie. Holt didn’t dodge. He even lowered his head, allowing Melanie’s movements. In that instant, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, even breathing pulled at raw flesh with pain. I unconsciously took a step forward. My high heels clicked on the polished marble floor, making a light sound. The people around stopped their conversations, their gazes falling on me. Melanie turned her head, and when she saw me, a flash of unconcealed contempt crossed her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a gentle smile. “And this is…” Melanie looked at Holt with feigned confusion. The smile on Holt’s face instantly faded. He looked up at me, his eyes cold as ice, as if looking at a thoughtless subordinate. “An assistant.” His thin lips parted, uttering those words. “An assistant.” The word shattered three years of our bond into pieces. I froze in place, my blood turning cold inch by inch. I was his assistant. Yes, ever since he recovered his memory and became the high and mighty head of the Thornton family again, I’d become his invisible household assistant. “Oh, just an assistant.” Melanie smiled meaningfully, picking up a glass of red wine and walking toward me. “You worked hard taking care of Holt tonight. This drink is for you.” She held out the wine glass. I bit my lower lip, about to reach for it. “Oh my!” Melanie suddenly cried out, her wrist tilting, spilling the entire glass of red wine on my ill-fitting black dress. The liquid ran down my chest, utterly humiliating. A few drops also splattered on Melanie’s dress. “Why are you so careless?” Melanie frowned, her tone full of grievance. “This is the dress Holt specially had flown in from Paris for me.” I jerked my head up. “I didn’t touch you at all!” “Enough.” An icy voice crashed down from above, carrying undeniable authority. Holt strode over, pulling Melanie behind him, his brow furrowed as he stared at me. “Holt, I think her nail scratched the back of my hand. It hurts a little.” Melanie nestled behind him, murmuring softly. Holt looked down, seeing an extremely faint red mark on Melanie’s pale hand, and the temperature around him instantly dropped to freezing. He raised his head, looking at me like I was a vicious criminal. “Apologize.” He commanded. “I didn’t push her, and I didn’t scratch her. She spilled the wine on me herself!” I clenched my dress tightly. “Sage, I told you to apologize.” Holt’s voice lowered a few degrees, dripping with impatience. “Don’t embarrass me in a place like this. Where are your manners?” Embarrassing. Manners. These words carved into my heart like knives. I looked at this cold, handsome man before me. He’d forgotten. Three years ago, when he’d injured his brain, penniless and starving, collapsed at my rental apartment door, it was this “ill-mannered” woman who fed him the last spoonful of hot soup. Now, he stood high above, and I’d become the embarrassing stain. I gave a bitter laugh, closed my eyes, and forced back the tears. “I’m sorry, Miss Davis.” With that, I turned and walked out of the ballroom step by step under everyone’s mocking gazes. Without looking back.

Sage’s POV In late autumn San Diego, a torrential rain poured down. I had no umbrella and no car. Holt’s drivers were all outside the ballroom waiting to pick him up with Melanie. I could only brave the rain, walking mechanically forward. The rain hammered my body, bone-chillingly cold, yet it couldn’t match the coldness in my heart. My heel twisted in a puddle, and a sharp pain shot through my ankle. I stumbled and fell heavily onto the muddy sidewalk. My palms scraped raw, mixing with rainwater, the pain drilling to the bone. I lay on the ground, suddenly lacking the strength to get up. It was also a rainy day. Three years ago, on that thunderstorm night, the roof of our little attic leaked, water flooding the floor. It was the second month after I’d brought Holt home. He couldn’t remember anything, only knew his name was Evan. That night, I also twisted my ankle while going downstairs to buy instant noodles, falling into the mud and crying. This man who didn’t even own a decent set of clothes, not even holding an umbrella, rushed downstairs like crazy, pulled me from the muddy water, and held me tightly in his arms. “Don’t be afraid, Sage. Evan’s here. Evan will carry you home.” He carried me on his broad back, rainwater dripping from his strong jawline. He walked very steadily. That day he said. “Sage, whenever it rains from now on, I’ll never let you walk a single step. I’ll be your legs.” Later, to buy me a box of imported medicine for my foot injury, he washed dishes at a restaurant for three days until his hands were raw and swollen. I cried from heartache, but he just smiled and kissed my eyes. “As long as Sage doesn’t hurt, I can endure anything.” The warmth of that memory was scorching, making reality that much colder. I don’t know how long I sat in the rain, until a black sedan sped past me. The wheels ran through a puddle, splashing me with dirty water. By the dim streetlight, I made out the license plate. It was Holt’s car. Through the half-lowered window, Melanie leaned on his shoulder as he turned his head to listen to her speak, his profile showing a gentleness he’d never given me. He didn’t even glance toward the roadside. Naturally, he didn’t see me lying there. I suddenly laughed, tears mixing with rainwater streaming down. Dead. My Evan had died the day he recovered his memory, in that shabby attic. The one alive now was the high and mighty CEO of Thornton Corporation, Holt Thornton. When I limped back to the villa, it was already two in the morning. This mansion covering several thousand square feet on the hillside felt as empty as a gorgeous tomb. I didn’t even turn on the lights, fumbling my way to the bathroom in the dark, rinsing my numb, frozen body with hot water. Water flowed over my collarbone. Below it was a very deep scar. It was left when Evan saved me, taking a thug’s knife meant for me. Back then he held me, blood flowing endlessly, yet still comforted me. “Sage, I’ll keep this scar, so even if you try to run away, you’ll remember me when you see it.” Now, the scar remained, but the person had changed. After showering, I curled up on the large bed, forcing myself to close my eyes. I don’t know how much time passed before the bedroom door was violently pushed open. A man reeking of alcohol and faintly of perfume walked in. Holt yanked off his tie and pressed down on me directly. He didn’t turn on the light, his movements rough without a trace of tenderness. “It hurts…” I frowned, reaching up to push him away. But Holt grabbed my wrists, pinning them firmly above my head. His warm breath sprayed against my neck as he spoke with icy cruelty. “Why did you make a scene at the banquet tonight? Isn’t the money I usually give you enough?” My heart stopped beating. In the darkness, I opened my eyes wide. “Holt, you think I did it for money?” Holt gave a cold laugh, lowering his head to bite my collarbone, right where that scar was. “What else? When you kept an amnesiac me all those years ago, wasn’t it because you saw that million-dollar watch on me, calculating that my identity must be wealthy or noble?” A roaring sound filled my head. I felt something in my brain completely explode.

Sage’s POV I never imagined that in Holt’s heart, my saving him three years ago was a calculated investment. “That watch… you had a high fever and got sick. I sold it to pay your hospital bill.” My voice trembled. “The buyer said it was a fake watch and only gave me two hundred dollars. That day, I donated four hundred milliliters of blood to scrape together your medical expenses.” In the darkness, Holt’s movements suddenly stopped. But his voice quickly grew even colder. “Enough. Stop bringing up those old things to emphasize your contributions. These three years, the material compensation I’ve given you could buy you a hundred of those dumps.” Old things. Those three years of struggling through life and death together, in his eyes, had become dismissible old things. He had no foreplay, possessing me almost like a punishment. I bit down hard on the pillow, not letting out a single whimper. I stared at the ceiling with open eyes. In this sexual encounter, there was only release, no love. After it was over, Holt got up and went to the bathroom. The sound of running water started. I lay on the bed, my whole body aching. On the nightstand, Holt’s phone suddenly lit up. It was a message. The screen wasn’t locked, and the message popped up directly. Melanie: “Holt, I’ve already had people release tonight’s media statement. Your mother loves the buzz about our engagement. Get some rest early.” Immediately following was a design sketch. It was a draft of custom wedding rings from a top-tier brand. I stared at the glaring word “engagement,” my stomach churning, and suddenly leaned over the edge of the bed retching. Holt walked out from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, frowning at me. “What now?” His tone carried undisguised impatience. “If you’re not feeling well, go find the housekeeper to get you medicine. Don’t play pitiful in front of me.” I raised my head. I pointed at the lit phone screen. “You’re getting engaged?” Holt followed my finger, his expression darkening imperceptibly. But he quickly regained his cold demeanor. He walked over to pick up his phone, saying flatly. “Just a business marriage. It’s just a publicity stunt for the two families’ cooperation, to reassure shareholders. You don’t understand these things, so don’t ask.” “I don’t understand?” I laughed. “Holt Thornton, I don’t understand. I don’t understand why, if you’re marrying her, you still keep me locked in this cage. Why did you watch her humiliate me tonight?” “Sage!” Holt’s eyes turned completely cold. “Don’t forget your position. I let you live in this villa, gave you a life of luxury. You should know your place. Don’t compare yourself to Melanie. You can’t compare.” You can’t compare. Yes, what could I compare with? She was a wealthy heiress; I was just a poor woman struggling in the mud at the bottom. “Fine.” I suddenly calmed down, looking into Holt’s eyes. “I understand.” I stopped arguing, stopped making a fuss. He didn’t say anything more, turning to go to the adjacent guest bedroom. The next morning, Holt left early for the office. I’d just started toward the kitchen to pour some water when I heard the butler respectfully open the door. “Madam, you’re here.” Holt’s mother Mrs Thornton walked in wearing haute couture, escorted by two bodyguards. Seeing me in my thin nightgown, her eyes filled with extreme disgust. She walked straight to the sofa and sat down, coldly surveying me. “Sit. I’m here today to inform you.” Mrs Thornton threw a document on the coffee table. I didn’t sit, only stared at the document. “Tomorrow, Holt will officially announce his engagement to the Davis family’s daughter. I don’t want a stain like you existing in the Thornton family’s territory.” Her tone was condescending, like dismissing a beggar. If it were before, I would have firmly told her: I’m with him not for money, and unless he personally tells me to leave, I won’t go. But now, I just stood there quietly. Mrs Thornton sneered. “Don’t expect Holt to protect you either. You really think he still cares about you? He just doesn’t want to dirty his hands getting rid of you. Take a look at this agreement.”

Sage’s POV I stepped forward and opened the agreement. Every word on it crushed what little dignity I had left. “The old city district in the south has already been acquired by Thornton Corporation. Demolition starts tomorrow.” Mrs Thornton toyed with the ring on her finger, her tone casual yet cutting with every word. “That dump you lived in for three years is on the first batch demolition list.” I jerked my head up. “That house… is our last memory.” That thirty-square-meter old house. It had the shelf Evan had nailed up for me with his own hands, the secondhand sofa we’d saved up to buy, and on the wall was the height chart Evan had drawn bit by bit with a pencil for both of us. That was my only home left in this world. “Memory?” She looked like she’d heard the biggest joke. “You used that filthy pigsty to hold my Thornton heir hostage for three years of his youth. You think that’s a memory? I think it’s the Thornton family’s greatest shame!” Mrs Thornton’s eyes suddenly turned vicious. “Sign this voluntary departure statement, take this fifty million, and disappear from Holt’s world forever. That ruin I can decide to leave standing.” “If you still won’t leave…” She stood up, looking down at me from above. “Not only that house, but you won’t survive in this city at all.” I stared hard at the document on the coffee table. My fingers trembled violently. My last shred of resistance was crumbling. I didn’t want to take this money, but even more, I couldn’t let the last traces of “Evan’s” existence be crushed by bulldozers. “Fine.” After a long while, I heard my hoarse voice speak. “I’ll sign. But I don’t want the money. Please don’t demolish the house.” Mrs Thornton was clearly stunned for a moment, then pushed the agreement in front of me, her face full of mockery. “At least you know what’s good for you.” After shakily signing “Sage” on the document, she left with her people in a grand procession. The villa returned to deathly silence. I looked at the calendar. Today was Wednesday. Tomorrow, Holt would announce his engagement. I took a deep breath, changed into clean clothes, grabbed my bag, and left. I wanted to see Holt one last time. Not to beg him to stay, just to say a complete goodbye. I took a cab to Thornton Corporation. The towering skyscraper reached into the clouds. This was Holt’s kingdom now. I walked to the front desk and said softly. “I’d like to see Mr. Thornton.” The receptionist looked me up and down. “Do you have an appointment?” She asked coldly. “No… could you please make a call for me? Just say it’s Sage…” “I’m sorry, too many women come every day pretending to look for Mr. Thornton.” The receptionist cut me off without mercy. “No appointment, no entry. Security, please escort this woman out.” I was forcefully pushed out by security. Just as I was being pushed through the revolving door, a group of bodyguards in suits cleared the way, and Holt walked out of the private elevator. Beside him were not only executives but also Melanie. “Holt, shall we go try on wedding dresses this Friday?” Melanie held his arm, her face radiant with smiles. Holt nodded slightly. Though his expression was indifferent, he didn’t refuse. He looked up and inadvertently caught sight of me being shoved outside the glass doors by security. Our eyes met. I hoped he would stop. But Holt’s brow instantly furrowed. He said something in a low voice to his special assistant Jeff, then escorted Melanie through the VIP passage on the other side and directly got in the car. Not even a second’s pause. Jeff hurried out and stopped me as I tried to move forward. “Miss Sage.” The assistant’s tone was businesslike and cold. “Mr. Thornton says don’t run around everywhere embarrassing yourself. He has an important business dinner tonight and asks you to go home first.” Embarrassing. This was Holt’s only evaluation of me now. I watched that sedan drive away, and finally cried. I didn’t go home. I went to the old city district in the south.

Sage’s POV The old district was cordoned off with warning tape. I bypassed the tape and climbed up that familiar, dilapidated building. I reached the familiar door number and had just taken out my key to unlock it. The enormous roar of excavators sounded outside the building. I ran to the window in terror and looked down. Several large excavators were leveling this area. “Wait! There’s someone inside!” I shouted down at them. But the machinery was too loud. No one could hear me. Half of this building’s load-bearing walls had already been knocked down, and the entire structure was shaking violently. Glass shattered, dust filled the air. These people weren’t starting tomorrow at all. They’d come early today to clear the site! Mrs Thornton had lied to me. Even though I’d signed, she’d never planned to preserve this “Thornton family disgrace.” “Don’t demolish it! Don’t demolish it!” I ran downstairs like mad, rushing in front of the excavator and spreading my arms to block it. The lead worker was startled, quickly stopped the machine, got out, and cursed. “Crazy woman, you want to die? Thornton Corporation bought this land ages ago. It has to be leveled today!” “This is my home!” I screamed. “What home? You don’t even have a property deed. Get lost!” The workers came up to drag me away. I clung desperately to a pillar and took out my phone. At a time like this, the only person I could call for help was the owner of this land. I dialed Holt’s number. Once, he hung up. Twice, he hung up. On the third try, the call finally connected. Only it wasn’t Holt’s voice on the other end. “Hello?” Melanie’s coquettish voice came through the receiver, with a hint of lazy displeasure at being disturbed. “Holt’s in the shower. Miss Sage, be tactful and don’t call at a time like this to spoil the mood.” My brain buzzed, going completely blank. He was at the office this afternoon, and at seven in the evening they were showering. What kind of shower, it was obvious. Overwhelming despair flooded over me like a tide. I clutched my phone tightly. “Melanie, give the phone to Holt, please… help me give him the phone! Thornton Corporation is demolishing the south district houses, and my things are inside!” “Oh, the south district house.” Melanie laughed lightly on the other end. “That was his mother’s idea. But Holt also signed the approval just now. After all, trash from that kind of slum really doesn’t deserve to exist.” Trash. The shelf Evan made with his own hands, the height chart Evan drew. The time we spent keeping each other warm was trash. “He knew…” I murmured, tears quietly streaming down. “He actually knew everything…” The call was mercilessly disconnected. The workers lost patience, yanked me aside, and roughly pushed me to the ground. “Stop wasting time. Start work!” With a tremendous crash, the small attic that held all my love and hope from three years collapsed under the excavator’s swing. In the dust cloud, I lay on the ground. For a moment, I felt my heart had also shattered with this building into fragments, buried in the rubble. I had nothing left. When I left that ruins, the sky had turned completely dark. I walked home in a daze, dragging my feet. My phone vibrated. It was a text from the assistant: “Miss Sage, Mr. Thornton is at Nightshade Club in VIP room 888. He wants you to change clothes and come immediately.” I looked at the words on the screen without saying anything. I didn’t change clothes. I just wore those clothes covered in dirt and dust, put on flat shoes, and took a cab to “Nightshade.”

Sage’s POV The moment I pushed open the private room door. The noise inside came to an abrupt halt. Everyone’s eyes fell on me. Holt sat on the black leather sofa in the center. The lighting in the room was dim and ambiguous. His shirt collar was slightly open, sleeves rolled to his forearms, fingertips holding a half-burned cigarette. Melanie nestled obediently at his side, holding a glass of fruit wine. Seeing me, Holt’s brow visibly furrowed. “What the hell happened to you?” His tone was full of disgust, without a trace of concern. I stood in the doorway looking at him. After a long while, I asked in a hoarse voice. “You signed to have the house in the south district demolished. Is that right?” The people in the room exchanged glances, the atmosphere instantly freezing. Holt stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, looking at me coldly. “That dump should have been torn down ages ago. Didn’t Mom give you compensation? Don’t be so greedy.” “Dump…” I laughed. It looked worse than crying. “That was your favorite place to be! In winter when the wind came through, you’d hold me in your arms all night; in summer with no air conditioning, you’d fan me all night long!” My voice grew louder and louder, my emotions teetering on the edge of collapse. “Holt Thornton, that was our home! How could you… how could you destroy it like garbage!” “Shut up!” Holt’s face turned iron-gray as he stood up abruptly. The men around didn’t dare breathe. “Holt, don’t be angry.” Melanie stood up at just the right moment, grabbing Holt’s arm, then turned to look at me, her eyes full of malicious provocation. “Miss Sage, the past is the past. Holt is going to be the Thornton family head now. How can he keep such an unseemly past?” She poured a full glass of liquor. It was high-proof vodka mixed with red wine. “Since you’re here, have a drink.” Melanie held the glass in front of me. “I heard Miss Sage has a bad stomach, but everyone here is someone of status. Miss Sage should at least give us this much face, right?” Everyone was watching me. I had severe gastric ulcers. Three years ago, to treat Holt, I worked three jobs a day, often eating only one piece of bread all day, and ruined my stomach. During one gastric hemorrhage episode, Evan knelt outside the emergency room crying and slapping himself, swearing he’d never let me touch alcohol again. I turned to look at Holt. “Do you want me to drink too?” If he just said one word, don’t drink. I would forgive him for destroying the house today. But Holt only coldly averted his gaze, sat back down on the sofa, and picked up a glass of wine to swirl it. “Melanie poured you a drink. That’s doing you a favor. Drink it and get lost. Don’t kill everyone’s mood here.” The last steel wire hanging over the cliff snapped. I looked at this familiar yet strange face. Fine. Just fine. I reached out and took that glass of liquor. A flash of triumph crossed Melanie’s eyes. I tilted my head back and downed that glass of harsh liquid without even furrowing my brow. The alcohol cut through my esophagus like a blade, landing in my already fragile stomach. Instantly igniting a raging fire. Bang. I slammed the empty glass heavily on the coffee table. A sharp, twisting pain tore through my stomach, as if something inside was ripping me apart. Large beads of cold sweat broke out on my forehead. But I clenched my teeth and didn’t cry out. I looked deeply at Holt one last time. Without waiting for anyone to speak, I clutched my stomach, bent over, turned, and walked out of the private room. The moment I turned around, Holt’s fingers holding the cigarette trembled uncontrollably. But I didn’t care anymore.

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Our third anniversary. I waited all night. But my husband was with his lover, protecting her baby. He forced me, pregnant, to apologize to his mistress and called me cruel. They forced me to down seven glasses of liquor. Before I passed out from vomiting blood, I told him. “The child in my belly was killed by your own hands. Are you satisfied now?” He knelt and begged for forgiveness like a madman. But he didn’t know that I had already taken the check his mother gave me and flown to a world without him. This time, I would make sure he regretted it for the rest of his life. Natalie’s POV The clock hand slowly slid past midnight. I sat at the empty dining table, staring at the completely melted ice cream cake in front of me. Today was our third wedding anniversary. It was also the day Ethan promised that no matter how busy he was, he would rush home to be with me. But he broke his promise. Outside the window, thunder and lightning raged. Lightning split the pitch-black sky, illuminating the villa’s pale walls in a blinding flash. I took out my phone. The screen was completely empty. Not a single message. Not one missed call. I took a deep breath and dialed the number I knew by heart. The phone rang for a long time before someone answered. “Hello.” The man’s voice carried a trace of fatigue and impatience. “Ethan, when are you coming home? I’m still waiting for you.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but my fingers nervously twisted the corner of my clothes. There was two seconds of silence on the other end. Then, a delicate female voice suddenly came through, tinged with a suppressed sob. “Ethan… I’m scared…” My heart sank suddenly, as if plunging into a bottomless ice cellar. Vivian. It was Vivian again. “Natalie,” Ethan’s tone instantly turned cold, carrying an unquestionable commanding tone. “Something happened with Vivian. She’s been afraid of thunder since childhood, and today she’s very emotionally unstable. I’m not coming home tonight. Go to bed early.” “But today is our-” “Natalie!” He raised his voice and cut me off. “Vivian can’t be left alone right now. Can’t you be understanding? It’s just an anniversary. We’ll have plenty of time to make it up later. Stop being so unreasonable!” Unreasonable? I forced a bitter smile, my eyes burning. In three years of marriage, whenever Vivian made one phone call, even if it was the middle of the night, even if Ethan had a high fever, he would push me away without hesitation and rush to that woman. “Ethan, I’m only going to ask you one thing.” I bit down hard on my lower lip, tasting blood. “If you don’t go out today, will you actually die?” “What are you going crazy about?” Ethan was clearly angry. “Vivian has severe depression. If she does something foolish, can you take responsibility? Natalie, when did you become so vicious!” The call was mercilessly disconnected. I stared blankly at the darkened screen, and tears finally broke through like a dam. Vicious? I just wanted my own husband to stay home on our third anniversary and eat a piece of cake with me. And that made me vicious? I stood up and walked to the dining room trash can. I took the cake I’d spent all afternoon making by hand, the one that had burned my hand when I unmolded it, and threw it in, plate and all. Cream splattered everywhere, just like my three year marriage, falling apart into something unrecognizable. At two in the morning, the rain fell even harder. My head felt like it was splitting, and my stomach churned with waves of pain. I already had a stomach condition. Today, waiting for Ethan, I hadn’t had a drop of water since noon. I fumbled to get my stomach medicine from the drawer, only to find the bottle had long been empty. Pain. Piercing pain. I curled up on the sofa, cold sweat soaking through my thin nightgown. I wanted to call Ethan, but thinking of his earlier word “vicious,” my fingertips froze. With trembling hands, I called my assistant Jake. Half an hour later, Jake arrived with an umbrella and took me, nearly unconscious from pain, to the hospital. By the time I was hooked up to an IV, dawn had already broken. The emergency room corridor was cold and deserted, with only the pungent smell of disinfectant making me want to vomit. I leaned against the hospital bed, watching the IV drip down drop by drop, my eyes vacant. “Miss Davis, you really can’t keep putting off this stomach condition. You need to eat on time. Where’s your family? Why are you here alone?” When the nurse came to change my medication, she couldn’t help but ask. “He’s… busy.” I lowered my eyes. Just then, urgent footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor. I instinctively looked up, but the moment I saw who it was, my blood instantly froze. Ethan. He wore the same trench coat he’d had on when he left last night. In his arms, he carefully cradled a woman. The woman buried her face deep in his chest, wearing his suit jacket draped over her. “Doctor! Where’s the doctor? She slit her wrists!” Ethan’s voice carried unprecedented panic and loss of control. This was an Ethan I had never seen. Even when we got married and he read his vows, he had only looked indifferent. But now, for Vivian, even his voice was trembling. The two rushed past my hospital room. Ethan’s gaze was locked on the person in his arms. He didn’t even glance sideways. I stared at that retreating figure, feeling the stabbing pain in my stomach spread to my heart. It hurt so much that even breathing became a luxury.

Natalie’s POV Vivian was successfully resuscitated. Actually, the wound wasn’t deep. The doctor said it only broke the surface skin and didn’t even need stitches, just bandaging. But Ethan acted as if it were a matter of life and death. He insisted on arranging the highest-level VIP room for her and stayed by her side every moment. I pulled out the IV needle and, supporting my weak body, shuffled step by step to the VIP room entrance. The door was ajar. The voices inside clearly hammered into my ears. “Ethan, I’m sorry… I’ve caused you trouble again.” Vivian leaned against the headboard, her eyes red and rimmed with tears that fell like broken pearls. “I was just so scared. The sound of thunder made me feel like the whole world had abandoned me. I know yesterday was your anniversary with Natalie. I shouldn’t have bothered you. You should go back. Natalie must be angry with me…” The more she spoke, the more aggrieved she became, clutching the blanket, her thin shoulders shaking. Ethan sat by the bed and gently reached up to wipe away her tears, his movements so tender they could drip water. “Don’t overthink it.” He softened his voice, his tone full of indulgence and heartache. “Whether she’s angry or not doesn’t matter. Your health is what’s most important. Don’t ever do something this foolish again, understand?” “But Natalie…” “Don’t worry about her.” Ethan frowned, a flash of disgust in his eyes. “If she doesn’t even have this much tolerance, she doesn’t deserve to sit in the position of Mrs. Shaw.” I stood outside the door, feeling as if all the blood had been drained from my body in an instant. Doesn’t deserve. So in my husband’s heart, I didn’t even have the right to be angry. If I didn’t accommodate Vivian, I lacked tolerance and didn’t deserve my position. I took a deep breath and suddenly pushed open the ajar door. “Bang!” The two people in the room simultaneously turned their heads. Vivian shrank into Ethan’s arms like a startled deer, her voice trembling as she called out. “Natalie…” Ethan’s face instantly darkened. He immediately used his body to shield Vivian, as if protecting a rare treasure, and looked at me coldly. “What are you doing here?” His gaze landed on my face but didn’t linger for half a second, only filled with questioning. “Who told you to find this place?” “This is a hospital. Why can’t I be here?” I pulled at my dry, cracked lips and smiled. “Ethan, I’m your wife. Can’t I come visit your ‘little sister’?” I deliberately emphasized the words “little sister.” Ethan’s brow furrowed even tighter. He stood up, strode over to me, grabbed my wrist, and dragged me toward the door. “Natalie, stop being disgusting! Vivian just suffered a shock and can’t handle your attitude. Get out of here right now!” His grip was extremely strong. Already weak, I stumbled when he yanked me, and my knee slammed hard into the door frame. Piercing pain. But I didn’t cry out. I just stared at the man in front of me. “Ethan, I had acute gastric bleeding last night. I was alone in the emergency room on an IV all night.” My voice was very soft. “When you were holding her and shouting for help, did you ever think that your wife was also dying from pain?” Ethan froze for a moment. His gaze unconsciously fell on the back of my hand. There was indeed a bruise there, left from when I’d pulled out the IV needle. A flash of panic crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by irritation. “You’re standing right here, aren’t you?” His face was cold, his voice stiff. “A stomachache. Just take some medicine. Did you have to come here at this moment to play the victim in front of Vivian? Natalie, you weren’t this petty before.” Petty? Playing the victim? I suddenly felt the absurdity of it all. I burst out laughing, laughing until tears came out. “Yes, I’m petty. I’m playing the victim. Vivian barely scratches her skin and it’s life or death, but my gastric bleeding is my own fault, right?” I forcefully shook off Ethan’s hand and took a step back. “Ethan, you disgust me.” With that, I turned and walked away, my spine straight. But only I knew that my heart had shattered into powder at this moment. Ethan instinctively took a step forward, as if wanting to grab me. “Ethan…” Vivian on the bed suddenly clutched her chest and let out a pained moan. “My chest hurts so much…” Ethan immediately stopped and rushed back to the bed. “Doctor! Get a doctor here immediately!” In the corridor, I listened to the anxious shouts behind me, and tears silently fell from the corners of my eyes. This round, I lost again. And I lost completely.

Natalie’s POV Three days later, the Shaw family estate held a banquet. I didn’t want to go, but Ethan’s grandfather, Samuel Shaw, personally called me. I was only able to marry into the Shaw family because he insisted, despite everyone’s opposition. In this family, Samuel was the only person who genuinely cared about me. I put on slightly heavier makeup to cover the haggardness from days of insomnia and stomach pain. As soon as I walked into the living room, the originally lively atmosphere instantly turned cold. Everyone’s gaze fell behind me. I turned around. Ethan had his arm around Vivian’s shoulder and was slowly walking in. Vivian wore a pure white haute couture gown, like a fragile porcelain doll, frail and boneless as she leaned against the man. That dress was a globally limited edition from a certain luxury brand. I’d seen it once in a magazine and casually mentioned it looked nice. At the time, Ethan promised it would be my third anniversary gift. Now, that dress was on Vivian. How ironic. “Natalie, don’t misunderstand.” Seeing me, Vivian immediately pulled away from Ethan as if electrocuted, nervously clutching her dress. “Mr. Shaw said the banquet would be lively. Ethan was afraid I’d be bored alone in the hospital, so he brought me to get some fresh air.” How thoughtful. I watched her clumsy performance coldly and said word by word: “Since when are outsiders allowed at Shaw family banquets?” As soon as I spoke, the surroundings fell silent enough to hear a pin drop. Ethan’s expression instantly sank to rock bottom. He pulled Vivian back to his side, his gaze cutting at me like a knife. “Natalie, watch your words. Vivian is my lifesaver. In this family, she is not an outsider.” Lifesaver. That damned lifesaver again. Years ago, when Ethan was kidnapped, Vivian took a knife for him. Because of that one knife, Ethan worshipped Vivian like a deity, giving her the stars if not the moon. I took a deep breath. Just as I was about to speak, Samuel came down from upstairs with his cane. “What’s all this noise!” Samuel’s authoritative voice echoed through the hall. He walked downstairs, glared fiercely at Ethan, then waved at me. “Natalie, come help me to the dining room.” Suppressing my bitterness, I walked over and supported Samuel. During the meal, the atmosphere was bizarrely tense. Vivian sat next to Ethan like a person who couldn’t take care of herself. She wanted soup, Ethan personally ladled it for her. She looked at the shrimp in the distance, Ethan put on gloves to peel them for her. All his gentleness, all his patience, went entirely to her. And I, the legitimate Mrs. Shaw, was ignored by everyone. “Ethan, I want to eat that salmon.” Vivian pointed at the poached salmon in front of me. Samuel had specifically ordered the kitchen to make it for me. Without even glancing at me, Ethan stood up and placed it in front of Vivian. “Eat more. You’re too thin.” My grip on my chopsticks tightened sharply. “Enough!” Samuel finally couldn’t take it anymore and slammed his chopsticks on the table. “Ethan, do you even see your wife anymore?!” Ethan paused, his tone flat but rebellious. “Vivian’s body is weak. She needs nutrition. Natalie is healthy. She can eat anything.” Can eat anything. My stomach began to ache faintly again. After the banquet ended, Samuel called Ethan to the study. I walked alone to the back garden for air. The night breeze was cool, blowing against my face and clearing my head somewhat. “Natalie.” A ghostly voice sounded behind me. I turned around to see Vivian holding a glass of red wine, slowly walking toward me. Where was the frail, helpless appearance from the dining table? Now her eyes were full of provocation and triumph. “Can I help you?” I looked at her coldly. “Nothing much. Just wanted to thank you.” Vivian walked up to me and looked down at her white dress. “This dress is so beautiful. Ethan said only I deserve to wear it. What do you think, Natalie?” I smiled instead of getting angry. “Someone else’s hand-me-down trash that you treat like treasure. I have nothing to say.” Vivian’s face instantly twisted. “Natalie, what are you so smug about?” She lowered her voice. “You think occupying the position of Mrs. Shaw means anything? Ethan doesn’t love you at all! He won’t even touch you!” “Whether he touches me or not is none of your business. As long as I don’t divorce, you’ll forever be a mistress who can’t show her face in public.” I didn’t back down. “Is that so?” Vivian suddenly smiled strangely. The next second, she violently splashed the red wine in her hand onto her own dress, then grabbed my hand and shoved it hard against herself. Vivian screamed and rolled down the steps. I stood frozen, not yet understanding what had happened, when a dark figure charged over like an enraged leopard. “Vivian!” Ethan shoved me aside, the force so great it threw me directly into the nearby rose bushes. Sharp thorns pierced my palm, and blood immediately gushed out. But Ethan couldn’t see it at all. He picked up Vivian, who lay on the ground crying, then looked up at me with eyes that wanted to kill me. “Natalie, if anything happens to the child in Vivian’s belly, I’ll make you pay with your life!” Like a thunderbolt from clear skies. I sat collapsed in the thorny rose bushes, letting blood drip down, yet feeling no pain at all. Child. Vivian was pregnant. So this was what he meant when he said he wouldn’t even touch me.

Natalie’s POV I don’t know how I made it back to the villa. The wound in my palm from the rose thorns was deep enough to see flesh, dried blood crusted on my pale skin, a shocking sight. But I sat on the sofa, paying no attention. In my mind, I kept replaying Ethan’s furious and cruel eyes when he picked up Vivian, and those words: “If anything happens to the child in Vivian’s belly, I’ll make you pay with your life.” He wanted me to pay with my life. For Vivian’s child. These three years, to cure his stomach condition, I enrolled in cooking classes. To have common topics with him, I stayed up late reading boring business reports. To please his family, I endured countless grievances. I thought even a stone could be warmed. But it turned out the stone was only cold to me. Suddenly, a sharp wave of nausea surged up from my stomach. I rushed into the bathroom and violently vomited over the toilet. I hadn’t eaten anything in the evening. What came up was all acid, and by the end, there were even faint traces of blood. I leaned weakly against the cold tiles, my hand trembling as it touched my lower abdomen. A few days ago, feeling unwell, I had taken a pregnancy test. Two lines. I had planned to tell Ethan this good news on our third anniversary. I thought that with a child, the ice between us might finally melt. But now it seemed everything was a complete joke. Ding. My phone suddenly received a message. I opened the screen. It was a photo from Vivian. In the photo, Ethan was asleep lying against the hospital bed, his hand tightly holding Vivian’s, their fingers interlocked. Beside it was an ultrasound report. Though I couldn’t see the specific data, those two words were particularly glaring: Early pregnancy. Then a voice message came through. I opened it with trembling hands. “Natalie, the doctor says the baby is very healthy. Ethan said once he settles things with you, he’ll give me and the baby a proper home. You’ve occupied him for three years. It’s time to be sensible and give up your position. After all, the person who isn’t loved is the real third party.” The person who isn’t loved is the real third party. These words were like a rusty dull knife, repeatedly pulling and cutting at my heart, so painful I could barely breathe. I opened my contacts, looked at the name “Ethan,” and called. After three rings, it was answered. “Are you ever going to stop?” The man’s voice on the other end suppressed anger, even deliberately lowered to avoid waking the person beside him. “Vivian just fell asleep. What game are you playing now?” I took a deep breath. “Ethan, is it true she’s pregnant?” There was an eerie silence for a few seconds on the other end. “Yes.” Ethan’s voice no longer hid anything, carrying a kind of reckless indifference. “Since you already know, there’s no need for me to hide it. This child was an accident, but since it exists, I have to be responsible.” “Responsible?” I laughed. “You’re being responsible to her. What about me? I’m your wife. You cheated during our marriage and got someone else pregnant. Don’t you feel even a bit sorry for me?” “Natalie, don’t use that victim tone with me!” Ethan completely lost his patience. “If my grandfather hadn’t threatened to die, do you think I would have married you? These three years, you’ve held the title of Mrs. Shaw and enjoyed wealth and privilege most people never experience. What more do you want? I haven’t even settled with you for pushing Vivian tonight. You’d better behave!” “What if I said I didn’t push her at all?” My voice trembled. “Enough! I saw it with my own eyes. Can that be fake? You’re hopeless!” The call was once again mercilessly disconnected. I closed my eyes. Tears silently slid from the corners, shattering into a puddle on the cold tiles. I thought I would be hysterical, thought I would break down crying. But when this moment truly arrived, I found my heart was completely hollow. All my expectations, all my love, crumbled at his words “hopeless.” Early the next morning, I went to the hospital. But not to the VIP ward. I went to the obstetrics department. On the way out this morning, my mind was in a daze. I fell down the stairs and miscarried on the spot. I cried my heart out. I’m sorry, baby. Mommy can’t bring you into this world to suffer. Your father has already given all his love to someone else. Rather than have you born unwanted, it’s better you never appeared at all. From now on, Ethan and I are finished.

Natalie’s POV After the miscarriage, I left the hospital and went straight back to the villa. This house I’d lived in for three years was filled everywhere with traces of my careful arrangement. The plants I’d personally grown on the balcony, the throw pillows I’d chosen for the sofa, even the matching couple’s mugs on the coffee table. I thought this was home. It was actually just a gilded cage. I walked into the bedroom and pulled out the suitcase from the bottom of the closet. I didn’t take any of the designer bags or expensive jewelry Ethan bought me. Only the few old clothes I’d brought when I came, and some necessities. When I reached the nightstand, I saw that velvet box. Inside was the wedding ring. A diamond the size of a quail’s egg, dazzling and brilliant. When we got married, Ethan had his assistant randomly pick out the ring. He said he was too busy and didn’t have time to try it on. I removed the ring and placed it in the box, gently closing it. Everything was over. I sat at the desk and took out a document I’d drafted long ago from the drawer. Divorce Agreement. Without a moment’s hesitation, I signed “Natalie Davis” in the wife’s signature column. I had not a shred of reluctance. I asked for nothing and left with nothing. As long as I could escape this man, I found even a single penny dirty. After neatly placing the divorce agreement and wedding ring in the most visible spot on the dining table, I dragged my suitcase to the entryway. Just then, the door suddenly beeped open. Ethan walked in, travel-worn. He still carried the smell of hospital disinfectant, exhaustion written all over his face. Seeing me standing in the entryway holding a suitcase, his brow instantly knotted into a tight frown. “What are you making a fuss about now?” Ethan looked at me coldly, his tone full of impatience. “Vivian’s been in the hospital these past few days preserving her pregnancy. I don’t have time to come back and perform this running-away-from-home act with you.” He stopped in front of me, his gaze sweeping over the cheap old suitcase in my hand, a hint of mockery flashing in his eyes. “What? Upset I didn’t spend time with you, so you’re using this trick to force me to give in?” He loosened his tie and casually tossed his suit jacket on the sofa. “Natalie, can’t you be more mature? Vivian is pregnant and her body is very weak. I was there taking care of her, not playing around. Can’t you be understanding and stop causing trouble at times like this?” Understanding. Causing trouble. Looking at this man I’d loved for seven years and been married to for three, I only felt he was terrifyingly unfamiliar. I suddenly felt like laughing, and I actually did laugh. “What are you laughing at?” Ethan was extremely irritated. “Nothing.” I shook my head, looking at him like a complete stranger. “Ethan, I’m not making a fuss, and I’m not performing. I’m really leaving.” “Leaving?” Ethan seemed to hear the world’s biggest joke. He stepped closer, looking down at me from above. “Natalie, without me, you don’t even have the capital to survive in this city! The moment you walk out that door, tomorrow you’ll come crawling back like a dog begging me to let you return!” I looked at him without arguing, just quietly looking. “Say whatever you want.” I gripped the suitcase handle tightly. “I’ve left everything behind. The divorce agreement is on the dining table. I’ve already signed it. Whenever you have time, we’ll go process it. If you’re not available, you can have your lawyer contact me.” Ethan froze. He instinctively turned to look at the dining table. There was indeed a document there, with that familiar velvet box on top. “Fine. Very good.” Ethan laughed in anger, pointing at the door. “Natalie, you brought this on yourself. Step out that door, and don’t ever expect me to look at you again.” “That suits me perfectly.” Without any hesitation, without even looking at him again, I walked past him, pushed open the door, and left without looking back. Bang! The security door slammed shut behind me with a heavy thud. Inside the villa, silence fell like death. I stood outside the door and took a deep breath. I didn’t look back. Because I truly didn’t love him anymore.

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A New York tycoon named Holden Lancaster sponsored two poor students. One was the pure and innocent Charlotte Shaw. The other was me—beautiful on the outside, but supposedly brainless. The difference was that the former was someone he begged on his knees to sponsor. The latter was me, who shamelessly begged him for help. Years later, I became Holden Lancaster’s secret lover. And Charlotte returned from studying abroad. At nine PM, while Holden and I were having sex and he was about to change positions. I caught a faint whiff of gardenia perfume on the back of his neck. At that moment, my scalp tingled. I realized almost instantly— Charlotte was back. She had once stepped on my finger bones with her dance shoes in the studio. Cheerfully cut up my practice clothes with scissors in the changing room. And cursed me out as a shameless seductress in front of everyone. The scent drifting from her body was this same disgusting fragrance. Holden bit my ear, his eyes full of desire. I instantly lost all interest. I pushed him away. “I don’t want to do this anymore.” Holden indulged me, lighting a post-sex cigarette and laughing. “Tsk, which one of us is supposed to be the sugar daddy here?” That scent still lingered on him. I opened my mouth, about to ask about it. His phone rang. A weak female voice came through the receiver. “Holden, I drank too much and my stomach hurts. Can you come pick me up?” “If it’s not convenient, never mind…” Holden’s expression changed instantly. He hung up the phone and brushed me off without leaving a trace. “Something urgent came up at the company. Go to sleep early.” Watching his panicked, retreating figure, I lay in the darkness with my eyes open. Suddenly I remembered a few things. When I first received his sponsorship, rumors that I was being kept spread throughout the entire school. I anxiously explained to everyone, but Holden took a phone call and told me: Forget it. The year I graduated, I received a spot to study abroad. Charlotte wanted to go too. Holden looked at me affectionately and said: Eve, stay by my side. In my third year with Holden, I got pregnant. An overseas call came in. Holden said with difficulty: Get rid of it. Now isn’t the right time. And now, I’d slept in the same bed with him for over a thousand nights. But I still couldn’t compete with one phone call from Charlotte. Half an hour later, Holden’s close friend posted on social media. A photo with a location tag. Caption: [True love conquers all! Congratulations to Holden for finally winning over his one true love!] In the picture, Charlotte nestled in Holden’s arms as he kissed her forehead. The usually wild and reckless man’s eyes held no trace of frivolity, only tenderness. Just a kiss. I clenched my fists, letting my nails dig into my flesh. Telling myself not to care. In all of New York, seven whole years of support—what was one kiss? Just as I was about to put down my phone. A notification popped up on Instagram: Charlotte followed you.

She wanted me to search for clues on her Instagram. So I obliged. I discovered— On Christmas Eve, my birthday, he didn’t come home not because he couldn’t, but because he was abroad making apple pie with Charlotte. When I had a fever of 104 degrees and a concerned neighbor called an ambulance, he boarded a red-eye flight because Charlotte had a nightmare. Six months ago, when I passed out on set from period cramps, he was making chocolate in Charlotte’s apartment. I scrolled down bit by bit. My finger swiped rapidly across the screen. Calm, as if I were an outsider to whom this had nothing to do. Until I saw one particular photo. My heart suddenly plummeted with pain. Japan, in a snowstorm. They were in snowy Hokkaido, soaking in hot springs and sipping fine wine. Holden reached under Charlotte’s arms, lifted her up, and carefully tossed her into the thick snow. He was laughing so happily. I had never seen such an unrestrained smile on Holden’s face. Charlotte’s caption: [Even this rigid iceberg melts for me.] The date in the bottom right corner of the picture was glaring. That day, I lay alone in a cold operating room, having my child removed. After the abortion, I felt completely hollow inside. I asked him when he’d be back from his business trip. He only replied with one word: Busy. A rumble of thunder. Raindrops violently struck the window, pulling me from my memories. The rain was pouring down. He wouldn’t be coming back tonight. I turned off my phone to go to sleep. Charlotte’s message popped up at just the right moment: “Eve, Holden’s drunk. Can you come pick him up?” In the end, I still went. When I arrived at the private room, they were playing Truth or Dare. Holden’s buddies chimed in one after another. “Holden, you waited for Charlotte for so long, and finally got what you wanted.” “What about Eve… how do you plan to handle that?” Holden’s expression darkened. “What? You got your eye on her?” “I wouldn’t dare!” The man sneered. “Holden’s woman—who would dare touch her?” “Seven years ago you got with her to practice your bedroom skills. Our Charlotte is really blessed now.” “But after sleeping with her for so many years, you must have learned some techniques, right?” I looked at them coldly, my heart colder than being thrown into an ice cellar. Holden’s words were like a dull knife, viciously cutting into my heart. “Want to know? You could try her yourself.” Amid the laughter, Charlotte’s face flushed with embarrassment. “Oh my… don’t you people have any shame? Eve isn’t that kind of person!” “If she hadn’t given me her study abroad spot, maybe right now she’d be returning home with both academic and career success.” “How is she not?” Someone picked up the thread. “Holden, what do you say?” The private room fell silent. Holden smirked. “She came to my door herself. I did have a pretty good time.”

Holden wasn’t wrong. Between us, I really did deliver myself to his door. During my sophomore year, the entire Arts Academy was buzzing that New York’s Mr. Lancaster was pursuing Charlotte. Tens of thousands of fireworks, declarations of love at lavish parties, luxury handbags arriving until her hands went soft. His methods of courtship were always spectacular. No woman could refuse. Except for Charlotte, the proud poor student. She threw the card on the ground and stomped on it hard, her face full of shame and anger. “I may be poor, but I have my pride.” “I’d rather you kill me than accept your dirty money!” After she left, Holden wasn’t annoyed. He just raised an eyebrow slightly, the expression on his face obvious. Woman, you’ve successfully caught my attention. That day, I received news of my parents’ death in a car accident. After returning to my hometown for the funeral, working three part-time jobs in rotation, starving and famished— I picked up that card that had been crushed under dance shoes. “Mr. Lancaster, isn’t sponsoring anyone the same?” “Why don’t you sponsor me instead?” Holden’s eyes swept over my face, my chest, my slender waist. He quickly had someone draft a sponsorship agreement. He would support my continued education, and I needed to obey all his commands. From that day on, Charlotte always looked at me with subtle contempt. She coldly watched me get into Holden’s luxury car, watched as Holden transferred to me all the treatment he’d given her. The next day, rumors that I was being kept spread throughout the school. She made a big show of telling the entire Arts Academy that I was a shameless slut with no parents to teach me manners. I kept my head down and said nothing. Counting down the days until I could leave. Even Holden had probably forgotten. The seven-year agreement—today was only seven days from the deadline. When the party broke up, it had just passed 2 AM. Holden opened the private room door, saw me, and a smile spread across his lips. His tall body drunkenly lunged at me, pulling me into his embrace. “So obedient today? You knew to come pick me up.” Those lips that had kissed Charlotte moved close to my ear, about to kiss me. I subtly dodged. “The rain was too heavy. I was afraid you couldn’t find your way home.” In the car, he watched Charlotte’s retreating figure and said casually. “Charlotte’s back in the country. She doesn’t want to see anyone else around me.” “Eve, you should find yourself a boyfriend when you have time.” I nodded. “Okay.” His smile froze slightly. He turned sharply to look at me. “With me as your standard, don’t find some worthless man and embarrass me.” “How about I introduce you to someone?” Holden’s face showed several shades of anger. “My buddy, the second young master of the Brown family—a ladies’ man who loves women with flexible waists in bed.” “Or the third young master Smith—a bit mediocre, and he has a fiancée in name only, but for a man, that’s normal.” “If you’re with them, at least I can rest easy…” I calmly interrupted him. “Holden, my parents named me Eve.” “They hoped I would always be happy and joyful, not that I should use my body to please men.” I looked out the window, my voice not loud but very clear. “So—” “From now on, I only want to please myself.”

That night, Holden was startled by the look in my eyes. He could only pretend not to care and change the subject. He lay beside me and quickly fell asleep, breathing evenly. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I found that card from the inner compartment of my wallet. In all my years as a dance performer, I had never slacked off for a single day. Dancing during my period, doing wire work, rock climbing—whatever was dirty or exhausting, I took it. Because I understood. Only money was my greatest source of confidence. Seven years, seventy million dollars. I wanted to return it to him with interest. Currently only one final payment remained. The next day when I arrived on set, I saw Charlotte. She wore high heels, a screenwriter’s work badge around her neck, and intimately grabbed my wrist. Feigning surprise. “Eve? I never expected to see you here.” I pulled my hand back, smiling without warmth. “What bad luck—we just saw each other last night.” “Thanks to you, my old friend, keeping him entertained. Holden slept very well last night.” At those words, Charlotte’s smile froze on her face, jealousy rapidly spreading from her eyes. Sure enough, Charlotte added a kissing scene before filming started. The director looked troubled. “Miss Shaw, Mr. Lancaster specifically instructed that Eve has three no’s.” “No kissing scenes, no bed scenes, no intimate scenes.” “This… we can’t really go against his wishes.” Charlotte smiled slightly. She seemingly casually made a phone call, and after chatting for just a few sentences, the director received instructions. “Let’s start filming. Everything follows Miss Shaw’s wishes.” Meeting my gaze, her smile carried provocation. “This is what makes a good actress professional, Eve. Don’t you agree?” I spoke: “I have no objections.” My co-star was still young, his face flushing red with embarrassment. Before filming, I said expressionlessly to comfort him: “Excuse me.” The next second, under the photography lights, I stood on my tiptoes, wrapped my arms around the young man’s neck. And kissed him, light as a dragonfly touching water. The scene was beautiful. Holden witnessed this with his own eyes. “Bang!” The photography equipment was kicked over. He forgot he’d come to pick Charlotte up from work, forgot what he’d said last night, and strode forward amid everyone’s terrified gazes. He forcefully dragged me to the car. The sound of the car locks clicking was accompanied by the sound of my sundress being torn open. “What? Already found your next meal ticket?” “You kissed him? What’s your next step together?” “Did he touch you? Does he know where you’re most sensitive? Has he been… here?” “Slap—” Unable to bear it any longer, I slapped him across the face. Holden was stunned by the blow. I pulled up my zipper and looked calmly into his eyes. “The kissing scene was Charlotte’s idea. The director got your approval too.” “And yesterday, you told me to find someone else.” “You knew, you acquiesced, you allowed it, and now you’re having a fit with me?” His lips moved, wanting to explain something. But I laughed. “Holden, I have no obligation to remain chaste for you.”

The cold war began. For an entire week, I didn’t appear before Holden. Instead, his romantic affairs with Charlotte made entertainment headlines multiple times. [First Love Returns, Mr. Lancaster Furious for His Beauty!] He allowed her to use the Lancaster Group’s reputation to establish herself in the screenwriting industry. He indulged her bidding wars at auctions, sent her roses throughout the city, cooked for her with his own hands. Holden showed his affection openly, afraid no one would know. I watched coldly, packing up all my belongings in the apartment. Then I called a courier service and had the card, along with the sponsorship agreement I’d signed seven years ago, delivered by a delivery driver. Dragging my suitcase, I found myself somewhat laughable. After all these busy, rushing years in New York, I had nothing left behind. Seventy million dollars, my seven years of youth. I returned it all to him. Before leaving, I walked into a shopping mall in a daze and stopped at a jewelry shop. A pink diamond sparkled with a hazy glow under the display lights, like a rose wrapped in moonlight. The string of zeros on the price tag killed my impulse. Just as I was about to leave, I ran into Holden and Charlotte. Charlotte also had her eye on it at first glance. The sales clerk immediately fawned over them. “Mr. Lancaster has such good taste! This pink diamond is the only one in all of New York, extremely rare!” Holden’s hand wrapped around Charlotte’s waist, his lips curving upward. But his eyes looked straight at me. “What worthless trinket? My fiancée likes it—that’s its honor.” Fiancée? My heart trembled. I stopped in my tracks. In the past, when things got intense, I’d curl up in Holden’s arms crying like a walnut over Korean dramas. Back then I felt a bit giddy. “If someone proposed to me with a unique ring in the world, I’d definitely say yes.” The man had kissed my fingertips carelessly and laughed. “That’s all it takes?” In the end, that pink diamond was placed on Charlotte’s slender finger. She held Holden’s arm, smiling graciously. “Eve, I’ve always considered you a friend all these years.” “Now that Holden and I have found happiness, you need to work hard too!” I smiled woodenly. “Congratulations on your wedding. I wish you and Mr. Lancaster a happy marriage.” Just a few steps out of the shop, someone grabbed my wrist and pressed me against the mall’s fire escape. He leaned in abruptly, his burning kiss falling on my collarbone. “What did you mean by that just now?” I tried to pull my hand away but couldn’t. The anger I’d suppressed for so long ignited in my heart. I kicked hard at his groin. “Exactly what I said.” “Can’t Mr. Lancaster understand plain English?” His expression instantly turned cold, his teeth clenched. “Eve, think carefully.” “Take this step, and we’re completely done.” I made a sound of acknowledgment, walked steadily, and never looked back. The moment I boarded the plane. I blocked all of Holden’s contact information. Then I snapped my SIM card in half and threw it in the trash. At the same time, at a wild party in some high-end venue, Holden sat alone in a corner. He poured drink after drink into his stomach, his eyes quickly turning bloodshot. Charlotte stood up amid everyone’s encouragement, her face flushed. “Holden, I have something I want to say to you.” Just then, a security guard knocked on the door and respectfully presented a package. “Mr. Lancaster, this is something Miss Eve sent you.”

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I’ve been married twice. Before marrying Ethan Grant, I explained to him: “The first marriage was to help my childhood friend Xavier Cole fight for his inheritance.” “The second marriage was to help my good friend Mason Steele avoid an arranged marriage.” “If you mind—” He grabbed my hand, his eyes red-rimmed as he interrupted: “I don‘t mind. But from now on, you can only have eyes for me!” After we married, he was tender and considerate toward me. I thought I’d finally married the right person. But the day I returned from a business trip, I heard him talking familiarly with my two ex-husbands in the living room: “She‘s an old pro at divorcing—she’s done it twice already.” “Just give her the divorce papers on April Fool’s Day!” “Then come back later and tell her it was just an April Fool’s joke—problem solved.” “Vivian‘s wedding is next week. We made a promise back in senior year—for her bachelorette party, all of us have to be single!” I stood outside the door, my hands trembling. When Ethan brought me the divorce agreement, I signed it without hesitation. Later, when Ethan wanted to remarry me, I was already six months pregnant: “You thought the divorce was just an April Fool’s joke? I was serious!”

I sat in the coffee shop across from our apartment complex for an hour. I waited until they‘d dispersed before finally heading home. When Ethan saw me return, he set down his phone and came over to take my luggage: “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back? I could have picked you up.” He took the suitcase with one hand and wrapped his other arm around my waist. Tender and considerate, exactly like always. “Have you eaten?” “Yes.” He nodded, then seemed to remember something: “Oh right, there‘s something I need to discuss with you.” I set down what I was carrying and turned to look at him. He sighed and pushed a document toward me: “The company’s run into some trouble lately. We need to separate our assets. The lawyer suggested we file for divorce first—just as a formality.” I looked down—divorce papers. In such a short time, he‘d already prepared everything. “Once things blow over, we’ll remarry.” He gripped my hand, his tone sincere. “It‘ll only be a few months.” I fell silent for a moment. “I know this is sudden,” he squeezed my palm, then suddenly lowered his voice with a hint of indignation, “but Xavier and Mason called today and kept needling me. They said when you helped them, you didn’t hesitate, but with me it‘s somehow a problem.” “They even said that after divorcing twice, a woman wouldn’t dare divorce a third time. They said you definitely wouldn‘t be able to handle it.” “I’ve already thought it through—tomorrow happens to be April Fool‘s Day. We’ll choose that day to file, then wave the certificate in their faces and scare the hell out of them. Let‘s see if they ever dare look down on you again.” “After all, it’s April Fool‘s Day—anything can be passed off as a joke. Once the company situation settles down, we can legitimately get our certificate back. No one will say anything.” He looked at me, his eyes filled with both grievance and anticipation: “You won’t let them look down on me, will you?” I looked into his eyes for a long time. These flawless, devoted eyes had just been toasting with those two men, saying “she won‘t make a fuss.” “I won’t.” I gave him what he wanted. He visibly relaxed, though he quickly disguised it as surprised delight: “Then you should rest first. Tomorrow‘s the first of the month. After we sign the papers, we’ll go—” I took the pen, flipped to the last page, and signed my name cleanly. “Call them,” I said with a smile as I set down the pen. “Tell them to stop nagging.” Ethan froze, apparently not expecting me to agree so readily. He smiled, put away the papers, then leaned in to kiss me. “You‘re the best wife.” I let him kiss me, my heart as calm as stagnant water. He took the agreement to his study to make a call. His voice wasn’t loud, but through the door, I could still hear. “She signed.” Xavier‘s voice came faintly through the phone: “See? I told you—Sophia’s the easiest to handle.” “Alright, you guys keep Vivian steady on your end. I‘ll head over once I’m done here.” I sat in the room for a long time. My phone vibrated. It was a message from Mason: Haven‘t seen you in a while. Want to get together? I stared at that message for a long time. Before, I would have replied “sure.” I would have carefully considered what to wear, how to do my makeup. I would have thought about how to preserve Ethan’s dignity in front of them, to let them know I‘d married well. To make sure they wouldn’t hold grudges against Ethan. After all, one side was my childhood companions, the other was my beloved husband—both were people I valued deeply… I didn‘t want them to remain adversaries for life. But now, I couldn’t even be bothered to reply. I simply turned my phone face-down on the coffee table and stood up to collect the laundry from the balcony. As I passed the study, Ethan was still on the phone. His voice was very low, but carried a kind of relaxed ease I‘d never heard before. That ease sounded like he no longer needed to pretend or perform. I suddenly realized that in all our time together, he’d never spoken to me like that. The wind on the balcony was strong. I took the clothes off the hangers one by one, folded them, and placed them in the basket. As I finished with the last piece, my phone lit up again. This time it was Xavier: Heard you‘re getting divorced again? Ethan’s such a jerk. He doesn‘t deserve you. Don’t be sad. Your grandfather‘s eightieth birthday banquet is in a few days. Mason and I will attend together. Let’s have a proper reunion! I laughed dryly. How nice of him to say. As if he weren‘t the one strategizing in the living room earlier. I pressed the power button and shoved my phone in my pocket. I suddenly wanted to know what kind of person Vivian Lane was. To be worth the three of them scheming so elaborately to keep a promise. To be worth them treating me so casually as a tool to achieve their goal. But then I thought—there was no point. It didn’t matter anymore. I picked up the laundry basket and turned to go back inside. My steps didn‘t pause as I passed the study. Warm yellow light spilled through the crack in the door. This lamp, this home, this man— Starting tomorrow, they’d have nothing to do with me.

I‘d just set down the laundry basket when the doorbell rang. I went to answer it, but Ethan got there first. The person standing outside had flushed cheeks, clearly having drunk quite a bit. She smiled when she saw Ethan: “I knew you’d still be awake.” Ethan instinctively glanced back at me, then lowered his voice: “Why are you here?” She didn‘t answer, swaying unsteadily as she walked inside. Not until she saw me standing in the living room did she pause. “Oh, you’re here too.” Xavier caught her from behind and explained to me: “Sophia, she‘s had too much to drink. We were taking her home, but she insisted on coming here.” Mason stood in the doorway, his expression somewhat uncomfortable as he glanced at me. Then his gaze swept to Ethan, his tone turning sharp: “Ethan, your wife is home. Don’t you know how to avoid suspicion?” Ethan froze for a moment, then frowned and shot back: “You got her this drunk and brought her to my place, and you want me to avoid suspicion?” “I got her drunk? It‘s because you posted that ’newly single‘ status!” Mason let out a cold laugh and stepped aside. “Fine, you’re so noble, so proper. I‘ve delivered the person who got drunk over you. Do what you want.” The two men stood on either side of the door. The air seemed frozen. Xavier, caught in the middle, coughed awkwardly: “Alright, alright, stop fighting. Vivian just came by since it was on the way—” I stood in the center of the living room, watching this performance from start to finish. They were too coordinated. If I hadn‘t personally heard them toasting together, I might have believed their mutual hostility was real. All along, I’d thought the bond between Xavier, Mason, and me was unbreakable. At my most loyal, I‘d even married both of them. My parents died early, and my grandfather was always busy. Those two filled my entire childhood and adolescence. Xavier was there whenever I had troubles in school. Mason even took a knife for me from a kidnapper. To me, they were closer than family. But when did our ironclad triangle become like this? Probably starting in high school, the year Vivian Lane appeared. A new circle formed outside our group. I gradually became the neglected remnant. Only when they needed my help would they remember me… I withdrew my gaze, no longer looking at them. Some cracks weren’t formed today. I just chose to see them today. “Your timing is perfect. There‘s something I’d like you to witness in person.” I walked to the coffee table and picked up the divorce agreement: “Two copies, I‘ve already signed both. Since everyone’s here, might as well look them over clearly.” Ethan‘s expression shifted slightly, but he quickly caught on. By bringing up the divorce in front of Xavier and Mason on my own initiative, I was proving to them what I was willing to do for him. His eyes showed a hint of pride. “Sophia,” he walked over, his tone soothing, “we can discuss this privately. There’s no need—” “Since she‘s already brought it out,” Vivian suddenly spoke up, “can I ask—when are you moving out?” The living room fell silent for a moment. Ethan frowned. Vivian didn’t look at him, only at me, her expression innocent: “After all, this house is in my name. You can‘t keep living here forever, right?” I froze. The house was in her name? I instinctively looked at Ethan. He avoided my gaze, his throat bobbing, but he didn’t contradict her. In that instant, countless images surged through my mind. The day we moved in, he held my hand and said “this is our home.” When buying the house, he said “I‘ll handle the paperwork, you don’t need to worry.” I happily took charge of choosing curtains, sofas, and the dining table… Every piece of furniture here—I‘d made trip after trip to the home goods store to pick them out. Everything was arranged according to his preferences… I’d never cared whose name was on the deed. But I never imagined that our marital home would be in another woman‘s name! I looked down at the agreement in my hands and laughed. “I’ll leave now.”

“Sophia…” Ethan took a step forward. “Tomorrow at nine, City Hall.” I didn‘t turn around, pulling my suitcase to the door—changing shoes, opening the door, all in one smooth motion. The hallway lights brightened then dimmed. While waiting for the elevator, I could still hear voices from inside: “Not bad! She was even more cooperative than when I asked her to get married!” Laughter mixed with voices exploded dully behind the door. I stood by the elevator, listening to this unfamiliar story. The reflection in the mirror looked calmer than I’d imagined. Not until I got in the taxi did my phone vibrate. A message from Ethan: About the house, I‘ll explain… Be good. Find a place to stay for now. I’ll pick you up in a few days. I stared at the screen for a few seconds, then flipped my phone face-down on my lap. Outside the car window, streetlights retreated one by one. Pick me up in a few days? As if I‘d just gone out to buy groceries and would be back soon. I leaned against the seat and closed my eyes. No need, Ethan. You don’t need to pick me up. The next morning at nine, outside City Hall. When I arrived, Ethan was already waiting. He was leaning against his car door. When he saw me get out, he stubbed out his cigarette and walked over. “Where did you stay last night?” he asked. “My grandfather‘s place.” He nodded. His gaze lingered on my face for a moment, then he suddenly reached out as if to touch my hair. I tilted my head away. His hand hung in midair for a second before he pulled it back. “Sophia,” he lowered his voice, his tone carrying a certain confident gentleness, “you saved face for me in front of Xavier and Mason. I appreciate that.” “As for the house…” he paused, “Vivian needed property in the city to get residency. I figured it was just putting her name on it. You married down anyway, so I thought you wouldn’t care about these things. That‘s why I didn’t tell you.” I looked into his eyes without speaking. Wouldn‘t care? He gave my marital home to another woman. And brushed it off with “you’re wealthy, you won‘t care”? He didn’t think I wouldn‘t care. He simply didn’t care whether I cared or not. “Anyway, you do have the right to live there!” “After the divorce, stay somewhere else for a while,” he continued arranging, “Once I‘ve handled things on my end, I’ll bring you back.” I almost laughed out loud. Even now, he still thought all of this was me playing along with his act. “Let‘s go,” I didn’t respond to his words, turning toward City Hall. “Let‘s handle the paperwork.” His footsteps quickly followed. The process went faster than expected. Signing, fingerprints, submitting photos. The clerk finally pressed down the steel stamp with a soft click. The divorce certificate in my hand was thin, a small booklet similar to the marriage certificate, just a different color. Ethan glanced at his phone, his brow furrowing. “I need to take a call,” he told me. “Wait here for me. I’ll give you a ride back in a bit.” He walked a few steps away and answered the phone. His voice was very low, but two words still drifted over: “Vivian…” I stood there, quietly watching his back. After hanging up, he quickly returned, looking somewhat urgent: “Something came up. Head back on your own. I‘ll contact you later.” After he walked out the main entrance, I slowly turned and headed toward the marriage registration window at the other end.

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I went to the school to conduct an investigation and stopped by the cafeteria for lunch. I saw a male student who had only gotten free soup, so I casually got him a lunch. Someone nearby whispered, “Isn’t that our school’s top student? How dare that girl talk to him?” Before I could think much of it, a female teacher had already rushed over and slapped me across the face. “What class are you in? You little slut! How dare you seduce my son!” The male student panicked, grabbing her arm and shouting, “Mom! It’s not what you think!” The female teacher shook him off and grabbed my wrist. “Come on! We’re going to see the principal!” I had no choice but to explain. “You’ve misunderstood. I’m a staff member from the State Department of Education.” She scoffed. “State Department of Education? At your age, you dare to lie? Let’s go!” But I just have a baby face! When I was dragged into principal Zachary Thorne’s office, she was still yelling. “Mr. Thorne! My son is our top student! How dare she seduce him! a student like this must be expelled!” He turned to me, his tone stern. “What class are you in? Give me your parent’s phone number. You’re expelled!” I smiled. “I dare to give it to you, but I’m afraid you won’t dare to call!”

Zachary Thorne was caught off guard by my response and froze for a moment. That teacher named Rebecca Foster jumped up beside him. “Mr. Thorne, look at her attitude! This shameless thing should be severely punished!” I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my reddened wrist where she’d grabbed me. “Stop talking and make the call.” Zachary Thorne rose to the challenge and picked up the desk phone. “What’s the number?” I rattled off a string of digits. He dialed, pressed the speakerphone, and said arrogantly. “Hello, I’m Mr. Zachary Thorne from Ivy Ridge High School. Are you this student’s parent? Your child has been seducing male students at school. Please come immediately!” There was a two-second silence on the other end. Then a voice came through, clearly confused. “What? What are you saying? Who?” Zachary Thorne repeated. “Your daughter has been seducing male students at school! Please come to the school immediately to handle this!” Silence again on the other end. I almost couldn’t hold back my laughter. If Mr. Thorne knew who was on the other end, he’d probably wet his pants already. Too bad he didn’t know. He was still standing there arrogantly, waiting for my “parent” to come and apologize to him. “Mr. Thorne,” the voice on the other end became strange, “are you certain you’re talking about my daughter?” “Of course I’m certain!” Zachary Thorne was getting impatient. “Are you coming or not?” The other side said, “I’ll be right there. Mr. Thorne, until I arrive, no one is to lay a finger on her.” The phone hung up. Mr. Thorne held the receiver and snorted. “Pretty arrogant.” Rebecca Foster came over. “What happened? What was their attitude?” “Said they’ll be right here,” Zachary Thorne put down the receiver. “Told me not to touch her.”

Rebecca Foster’s eyes rolled, and she suddenly became excited. “Mr. Thorne, I have an idea! Let’s call a school-wide assembly and make this little vixen apologize in front of everyone! Make an example of her so all those girls with improper thoughts can see!” Zachary Thorne hesitated. “Is that really necessary?” “Why wouldn’t it be?” Rebecca Foster’s voice was shrill. “My son ranked first in the entire city exam. He’s our school’s star student! If we don’t deal with this kind of vixen, anyone will be able to seduce him in the future!” Zachary Thorne nodded and was about to speak when Rebecca Foster reached out to grab my hair. I seized her wrist in one motion and twisted hard. She cried out in pain, her face going pale. “I can walk on my own.” I released her hand and looked at her calmly. Rebecca Foster clutched her wrist. I stared her down until she retreated half a step, swallowing back the curses that had been on her lips. She hadn’t expected me to fight back, much less expected my strength. In the hallway, she walked ahead of me, constantly turning back to glare, her mouth far from clean. “Shameless thing, little vixen, born cheap!” I stopped walking. She stopped too, watching me warily. “Watch your mouth.” My voice wasn’t loud, but she was scared enough to retreat half a step, her lips trembling twice, ultimately not daring to curse again. Zachary Thorne urged from behind. “Hurry up, hurry up, everyone’s waiting at the field.” On the field, over two thousand students were already lined up by class. A sea of people, all whispering among themselves. Rebecca Foster pushed me onto the stage, using vicious force, trying to make me stumble, but I stood firmly without even swaying. Disappointment flashed across her face. Zachary Thorne walked to the microphone and cleared his throat. “Today, we’re holding an emergency school-wide assembly!” The field fell quiet. “This girl!” He pointed at my nose. “Seduced our school’s top student, Ethan Carter, in the cafeteria!” The crowd below instantly erupted, students whispering to each other. Rebecca Foster snatched the microphone. “Ethan Carter is my son, ranked first in the entire city! He’s our school’s pride! He’s Ivy League material!” She turned to me, her finger nearly poking my face. “There have been several little vixens like this before. They just want to ruin my son! Ruin the school’s hope! What are they? Do they even deserve to talk to my son?” Zachary Thorne took the microphone, his tone softening, putting on a magnanimous appearance. “If you apologize publicly and write a guarantee letter, and if your attitude is good, I can consider not expelling you.” Looking at his hypocritical face, I couldn’t help but laugh. “You haven’t even figured out who I am, and you dare demand an apology?” Rebecca Foster exploded. “Who are you? Who could you be? You’re just a shameless little slut!” She got angrier and rushed forward to slap me. I dodged sideways. Her slap missed, her center of gravity unstable, she staggered two steps and nearly tumbled headfirst off the stage. Laughter erupted from below. Rebecca Foster’s face turned crimson.

“What are you laughing at!” She yelled at the crowd below, then suddenly turned to me, her eyes full of madness. She pulled out a red marker from her pocket and unscrewed the cap. “You think you’re so tough? You think you can dodge?” She advanced toward me with the marker raised. “I’m going to write ‘vixen’ on your face! I’ll make it so you can never wash it off! Let the whole school see what kind of person you are!” The laughter below stopped abruptly. People gasped, some shouted that this was too much. Just as Rebecca Foster’s marker was about to touch my cheek, I kicked her to the ground. Rebecca Foster screamed in pain, her face going pale. With my other hand, I pulled out my work ID from my pocket and held it in front of her eyes. “See it clearly now?” She squinted and leaned closer to look, her eyes suddenly widening. The work ID clearly read: State Department of Education Deputy Director Lydia Monroe. Her lips trembled, her face instantly turning deathly pale. I let go. Her legs gave out and she collapsed on the ground. I turned to face the over two thousand students below, holding my work ID high, my voice clear. “I am the Deputy Director of the State Department of Education, Lydia Monroe.” Complete silence fell over the field. Zachary Thorne was stunned for three seconds, then he laughed out loud. “You think we’re three-year-olds?” Rebecca Foster instantly got her energy back. “Right! Right! That work ID must be fake!” Zachary Thorne sneered, looking me up and down. “State Department of Education Deputy Director? How old are you? You look like a teenager. What kind of leader are you pretending to be?” Rebecca Foster leaned close to my work ID, shaking her head. “The counterfeiting technology these days is really amazing. It looks quite authentic! If I hadn’t seen the real thing, I might have been fooled by you!” Zachary Thorne shouted to the crowd below. “Check which class this Lydia Monroe is in!” The dean of students pulled out a roster and flipped through it, then looked up. “Mr. Thorne, I’ve checked. There’s no such person.” Rebecca Foster pointed at my nose, her voice shrill. “I know now! You’re a little slut who snuck in from outside the school!” She got more and more worked up, her voice getting louder. “You must be from that poor high school nearby! You snuck into our school to seduce boys! I’ve seen plenty of social scum like you!” The students below began to stir. Some whispered to each other, some craned their necks to look at me, and some frowned. But Rebecca Foster didn’t care about any of that. She got more and more excited. “Look at her, dressed all proper, but she’s actually just a delinquent! Forging work credentials, sneaking into a top high school, specifically targeting good students!” She turned and shouted at the crowd. “Security! Where did all the security go? Restrain this little slut!” The security chief ran onto the stage with two guards. The three stood beside me but didn’t make a move. Probably because they’d seen me kick Rebecca Foster earlier and weren’t confident. Rebecca Foster leaned close to Zachary Thorne’s ear, deliberately raising her voice several levels. “Mr. Thorne, this kind of social scum, forging credentials, sneaking into school, seducing our top student! Call the police! We must call the police! Send her to juvie!” Zachary Thorne nodded, pointing at me with an air of righteousness. “Who are you really? If you don’t tell the truth, I’m calling the police right now!”

I looked at him calmly, enunciating each word. “I told you, I’m the Deputy Director of the State Department of Education.” Rebecca Foster scoffed. “Still lying? You’re a teenage girl—how could you possibly be a deputy director? Look at yourself. Do you look like an adult?” Zachary Thorne joined in with a cold laugh, looking me up and down. “Right! Which deputy director comes to a school alone? Without even a driver? Without any staff? Who are you trying to fool?” Rebecca Foster continued. “Call the police! We must call the police! This kind of little slut is a cancer on society. She should go to juvie for proper education!” Zachary Thorne pulled out his phone and dialed 911 in front of over two thousand people. “Hello, 911? I’m Mr. Zachary Thorne from Ivy Ridge High School. We’ve caught someone forging State Department of Education credentials, sneaking into school to seduce boys, seriously disrupting the educational order. Yes, please dispatch officers immediately!” He hung up, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked at me triumphantly. Rebecca Foster put her hands on her hips, arrogant. “Just wait. When the police arrive, you’ll be crying! Forging state official credentials—that’s enough to keep you busy!” She turned to the crowd below, shouting at the over two thousand students. “Everyone look! This is what happens when you seduce top students! If anyone else has such improper thoughts in the future, this is your example!” I stood on stage, a smile playing at my lips, saying nothing. Rebecca Foster saw me smiling and got even angrier, rushing up to me. “You’re still smiling? Let’s see if you can still smile when you’re at the police station!” Zachary Thorne also came over, his voice threatening. “Forging state official credentials—that’s at least two or three years in prison. Little girl, your life is over.” I looked at him sarcastically. “Oh, I’m so scared!” But Rebecca Foster thought I was actually scared, her voice even shriller. “What? Scared now? Too late! You were so arrogant earlier, weren’t you? Now you know to be afraid?” I nodded. “Fine, then let’s wait.” Sirens sounded in the distance. Rebecca Foster jumped with excitement, pointing at the school gate and shouting at me. “Hear that! The police are here! You’re done!” Zachary Thorne straightened his tie, stood up straight, ready to greet the police. A black sedan and three police patrol cars drove through the school gate. Rebecca Foster pointed at the gate, shouting at me. “See that! They’re all here to arrest you!” I crossed my arms over my chest, the smile never leaving my face. The person who stepped out of the black sedan was State Department of Education Director Nathan Brooks. His face was dark as iron, radiating a low pressure, followed by city police station officers and a team of police. Rebecca Foster pointed at me, shouting at the officers. “Officers! It’s her! It’s this little slut from outside the school! She forged State Department of Education credentials and snuck into our school to seduce my son! Arrest her quickly!” Director Brooks didn’t look at her. He walked straight onto the stage. He walked up to me and looked me over to confirm I was unharmed before speaking. “Ms. Monroe is our State Department of Education’s Deputy Director! Who’s been giving her trouble?!” Complete silence fell over the field. Rebecca Foster’s finger, pointing at me, froze in mid-air. “You said she’s what?!”

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