Category: English

There’s an unwritten rule in high society: spouses must tolerate each other keeping lovers on the side. I used to think my husband Andre would be the exception, until Andre’s mistress showed up at my door. She stood there with an innocent expression and said: “I know this is wrong, but Andre says I’m his true love. I know it sounds shameful, but I’m doing this for your own good too. Please divorce him. I’ll make sure he gives you a large sum of money as compensation.” She even bent down and bowed to me in apology. I suddenly found it hilarious and asked her, “Do you know that between Andre and me, he’s actually the stay-at-home husband I’m keeping?” “Did Andre tell you that the villa you’re living in and the luxury car you’re driving are all mine?” Mary’s lips moved twice, but no sound came out. That burst of courage she’d mustered for true love quickly vanished, leaving only panic and disbelief. “Guess not,” I said casually, stirring my coffee. I continued, “If Andre and I divorce, everything he has and everything he’s given you will be taken back. Do you still think your love is so great?” When Andre came home, the young woman was flushed with embarrassment from my words. He immediately stepped forward to shield her, his eyes filled with wariness I’d never seen before. I asked him what this meant. He just held Mary’s hand and said to me, “She’s not like the people in your circle. Don’t make things difficult for her.” My hand holding the coffee trembled for a moment. Fighting back the discomfort rising in my chest, I looked up at him. “What if I insist on making things difficult?” His gaze fell on the table behind me. I followed his line of sight. There was a box filled with pearls on the table. As the carefully groomed heir of a wealthy family, I’d never lacked quality men around me. Similarly, my excellence meant I could stabilize a massive business empire without needing a strategic marriage. Back then, I was quite playful and kept many kept men. Andre was just one of them. When I first met him, he was still a college student. Unlike those other men who only talked about money with me, he was different. Every time, he persistently asked me to confirm my love. After my business dinners, he’d make me a stomach-soothing porridge. I had low blood sugar, so he always carried chocolate for me. One year I was in a car accident. He went to a temple and climbed three thousand steps on his knees to get me a protective charm. Looking at his swollen forehead and badly bruised knees, I asked him, “Why are you so good to me?” Because back then, I hadn’t given him much money. He said, “I love you, so I want you to be well.” “If you could love me a little too, that would be even better.” Perhaps moved by his sincere feelings, I sent away all the others and gave him status. On our wedding day, he gave me a box of pearls that weren’t particularly refined. He said, “I don’t have much, but I personally dove for these pearls. Every single one represents my true heart.” “Since you chose me, you can’t let me down. If you make me sad, I’ll take away one pearl. When all the pearls are gone, I’ll leave you and never come back.” Back then I just thought he was endearingly sincere and pure. To reciprocate his feelings, I promised him I definitely wouldn’t make him sad. So after all these years, that box of pearls was still full. Not a single pearl was missing. Andre walked over and grabbed a handful of pearls from the box. The once-full box instantly lost a third of its contents. Perhaps the shock in my eyes was too obvious, making him think his threat had worked. “Today you hurt my heart. Think carefully about what you’ve done.”

After the two of them left, I sat on the sofa staring blankly at that box of pearls. The already cheap pearls had lost their original luster after years of sitting there, becoming dull and yellowed. Just like Andre’s spoiled sincerity. Before leaving, Andre said, “Don’t bully young, pretty girls just because you’re old now.” Thinking about it carefully, there had been signs of Andre’s change of heart for a long time. We hadn’t been intimate in ages. I was thirty-two, right at an age when I had needs. But every time I saw Andre’s somewhat resistant expression, I just assumed he was tired from work and didn’t push him. Turns out he was using all his energy on someone else. That girl was indeed young and pretty. I looked at myself in the mirror. At thirty-something, I was still radiant, looking as young as someone in their twenties. The aura and beauty money had built around me could rival any TV actress. Andre really had no taste. Tossling my wavy hair, I called a friend. “That young celebrity you mentioned last time—let me meet him.” My friend’s laughter came through the phone. “I really thought you were going to stay faithful to that kept man for life.” “Everyone in our circle keeps two or three on the side. Only you were willing to stay clean for him.” I used to think loyalty was the most basic principle for a partner, so in all the years I’d been married to Andre, no matter what people said, I’d never been with anyone else. “How did you suddenly wise up?” “Just realized he’s pretty boring. Don’t want to waste more time.” “One won’t be enough. Tonight, the usual place. I’ll find you several to choose from.” “Okay.” After hanging up, I had my personal stylist come give me a look that was perfect down to my toenails before heading out. In the private room at Skyline Hotel, eight young, handsome men stood waiting. My friend sat beside me, giving them looks. “Hurry up and attend to her. If Leicester takes a liking to you, you’ll be set for life.” Several young men immediately gathered around me, asking after my well-being. Honestly, it felt pretty good. After a few rounds of drinks, I went to the restroom. Passing by the next private room, the door wasn’t closed. I heard Andre’s voice from inside. His buddy asked him, “Your wife’s a rich woman no matter what. You’re never home—aren’t you afraid she’ll dump you?” “I don’t want to go home and smell her old lady scent. If you like it, you go smell it.” “No thanks. Who’d be attracted to an old woman?” “But still, you’re relying on her to…” “Watch your words. Andre’s got that old woman completely under control. Look, has she found anyone else all these years?” Andre was playing with a discolored pearl in his hand. “Don’t worry. She’s most afraid of me leaving her.” “She used to have plenty of people around her, but after I pulled that countdown literature stunt with this box of pearls, she sent all those men away.” “Andre’s the man! A ten-dollar box of broken pearls, and the rich lady’s completely devoted.” He pulled Mary close. “She’s over thirty now, past her prime. If she keeps making trouble, I’ll just disappear. Let’s see if she regrets it then.”

When I returned to the room, I sent my secretary a message to freeze all of Andre’s cards. Spending my money while badmouthing me with his friends—there’s no such thing as having it both ways. “So, see anyone you like?” Only then did I look up and examine the young men in front of me carefully, then raised my hand to point at the one in the middle. “You, come here. The rest of you can go.” As soon as I spoke, my assistant pulled several stacks of cash from her bag and handed them out. “Leicester doesn’t like her private life being discussed.” They happily left with the money. “He’s the young actor I mentioned before. Twenty years old, name’s Torres. Just entered the industry, absolutely clean.” I beckoned to him. Torres walked to my side and I reached out to touch his abs. Very firm. Very durable. “Feed me.” My friend tactfully left. He held a shrimp between his teeth and leaned down toward me. Between his lips was the scent of youthful hormones. Andre had one thing right. When there are younger people available, who would want to stay with an old thing? “Baby, please love me.” “Good boy.” That night, I didn’t stop until dawn. I savored every moment. So much so that I didn’t answer the barrage of calls Andre made. This kind of experience was something twenty-eight-year-old Andre could no longer give me. He was old. Time to replace him. Before leaving, I left behind a card and a phone number. “I’m very satisfied. Let’s stay in touch.” Torres’s eyes sparkled with excitement and satisfaction as he took the bank card. See? As long as I have money, I can find anyone I want. After being thoroughly satisfied all night, I looked exceptionally good today. At work, even my secretary complimented me on looking especially beautiful and asked me to recommend my beauty salon. Perhaps because I was in a good mood, work felt particularly easy today.

This good mood lasted until I got home that evening. In the villa, Andre sat on the living room sofa, his face full of anger. I thought he’d found out about me finding men on the side. But instead he questioned me, “Why did you have my bank cards frozen? Do you know how embarrassing it was when I couldn’t pay for dinner with my friends yesterday?” “So what? What does that have to do with me?” “Leicester, are you making a scene because of Mary? She’s just like a sister to me.” “Andre, do you even believe that yourself?” “Don’t assume everyone’s like you just because you like playing around. Accusing me like this—you just want an excuse to go out and play again, don’t you?” “Your circle is always so disgusting. Just because you’re not clean, you think everyone else is the same.” I never imagined he could be shameless to this degree. If he’d just openly admitted to keeping a woman on the side, I would’ve just thought he was a mooch who couldn’t even handle being kept properly. But he was turning all the blame on me, shifting the guilt. It was truly revolting. He grabbed another large handful of pearls from the box. “You’re not young anymore. No one else will love you like I do. You’d better think carefully.” Looking at the pearl box that had emptied by more than half again, I smiled slightly. “Do whatever you want.” Seeing me unmoved, Andre became angry from embarrassment. “Leicester, you’ve really hurt me today.” “I won’t be coming home for a while. When you realize your mistake, I’ll come back.” I still had no idea where his confidence in making demands came from. Perhaps he thought women over thirty would be anxious about love? Maybe my years of indulgence made him think he had me completely figured out? But I still moved aside from the doorway. “Be my guest.” During the days Andre was gone, he’d still come back occasionally. He wanted me to buy his little girlfriend a car to apologize. When I refused, he came back and took some pearls. He set his eyes on a villa and wanted me to buy it for him. When I didn’t pay, he came back and took more pearls. Back and forth like this, the once-full box now had only a few scattered pearls left. Actually, I was curious too—when all the pearls were gone, would Andre really leave on his own? With this in mind, I had my lawyer draft a divorce agreement. My assets were too vast. Divorce would take a lot of time, but I had only one demand: that he leave with nothing. I’d just finished my call with the lawyer when I saw Torres had sent me a message. “Cartier invited me to their gala. Will you be there?” I asked my assistant. Cartier had indeed sent me an invitation. Usually I wouldn’t attend this kind of sales event, but I hadn’t seen Torres in days and missed his body. So I replied, “Yes.”

I didn’t expect to run into Andre and Mary at the gala. The moment Andre, who was holding Mary’s hand, saw me, he hurriedly let go. “I’m making amends for you. Since you’re here, you’ll cover Mary’s expenses tonight.” I ignored him and walked straight ahead to the VIP seats. Torres beside me excitedly greeted me. “Planning to shop today?” I looked at the jewelry pieces he was wearing. He wasn’t famous yet, so the pieces assigned to him were all pretty ordinary. But they’d do for making a young man happy. Year-end was coming—I could give them to my secretary as gifts. I raised an eyebrow. “I’ll pay for everything you’re wearing today. Consider it my treat for bubble tea.” Torres’s eyes immediately lit up. “Thank you, baby.” He leaned close to my ear and whispered, “I’ve been holding back for a week, just waiting for you, baby.” Youth is wonderful. Even saying such things only came with a sense of shyness that made my heart itch. I reached out to touch his hair. “Come to my place after this ends.” The gala officially began. Various models and celebrities walked the runway wearing the brand’s jewelry. Though Torres wasn’t famous yet, his looks were exceptional, so as soon as he appeared, he caught the attention of many women in the audience. They all wanted to buy the jewelry he’d worn, including Mary. Andre said to her, “Don’t worry. Whatever you like, I’ll buy for you.” He’d entered using DL Group’s name. His seat was fairly forward. Seeing he was interested in this jewelry set, others, though they liked it, knew they couldn’t compete with DL and gave up. I turned to look at Andre, my eyes showing impatience. Though this jewelry set was cheap, it was still worth over a hundred thousand. Andre had been married to me for so many years. Even as a useless person backed by DL, he should have some money saved. I raised my hand to call over the sales director and told her, “I want this jewelry set. Also, the two sets on page three of the catalog—send them all to my house. Credit the commission to him.” The director followed my line of sight to Torres, who looked grateful. The two sets I’d added would earn him a two-hundred-thousand-dollar commission, and my attitude showed the brand his value. After today, his fashion resources would level up. I’d just swiped my card when Andre’s voice came from behind. “I knew you couldn’t bear to part with me. If you’d given in earlier, wouldn’t things be fine?” “Send those jewelry pieces to where Mary’s living now. Otherwise I’ll have to go back to get them. What a hassle.” He actually thought I’d bought the jewelry for him. Men at a certain age really do become ordinary yet confident in the most nauseating way. The director looked at me questioningly. I just shrugged. “Ignore him. Send it to my house.” Andre said, “You’re just using this tactic to force me to come home. You’re no different from those nagging women now.” With that, he left with Mary. This was just a small episode for the evening. I also bought their two flagship pieces for Torres. He was overwhelmed. “This is too expensive.” “It’s fine. I’m always generous with my people.” Items worth less than a million to humor an understanding young man weren’t much to me. “Just put in the effort for me.” When Torres and I kissed all the way to my house, we ran into Andre sitting on the sofa. He asked, “Why are you home so late? Where’s the jewelry? Give it to me. Mary likes it.” What answered him was a low moan from me. Torres was biting my lip, not giving me any chance to speak.

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On our wedding night, Julian Brown suddenly confessed a secret to me: “I was afraid of hurting you during our first time, so I… found another woman to practice with.” I froze under the covers, my blood running cold instantly. My throat tightened, and I could barely manage: “And?” He didn’t have time to answer before his phone vibrated. Julian answered it right in front of me. The voice on the other end was dripping with fake sweetness. “If you don’t come over, I’m really going to jump.” His face changed. He hung up and started to leave. I lunged and stopped him: “Julian, have you forgotten who your bride is?” He impatiently smoothed down the buttons on his shirt. “I can’t help it. She’s incredibly clingy. She cried all day when she found out I was getting married.” “You’re tired from the wedding today. I’ll just go get a marriage certificate with her, soothe her a bit, and I’ll be right back.” I just laughed, a bitter laugh. “So, you’re having the wedding ceremony with me, and getting legally married to her?” Seeing my face crumbling, he paused for a second. Then, patiently, he sat down and hugged me. “Silly girl, a marriage certificate is just a piece of paper. A sacred ceremony like this wedding, of course, I’d only ever give to you. She’s just a fling.” After he left, I stared blankly at the ceiling, then dialed my family. “Dad, call off the marriage. Julian doesn’t deserve me.”

The next morning, Julian seemed surprised to see me at City Hall. He tucked away the glaring marriage certificate and pulled me aside. “Why do you look so haggard? Didn’t you rest well last night? I told you to wait for me at home, didn’t I?” He covered my hand with his, then brought it to his lips and blew on it gently. He spoke to me in the same gentle tone he always did. As if I were the one he’d just gotten married to. I pulled my hand away and smiled. “I couldn’t wait, so I came early.” He looked a little surprised, thinking I was there to confront him. After a moment, he put his arm around my waist and said remorsefully: “Last night she was threatening to kill herself, I had no choice. I really dealt with her, that’s why I didn’t answer your calls. I’m sorry I made you worry, babe.” Hearing him call me “babe” over and over made me feel utterly ridiculous. He once risked his life, going deep into the wilderness alone to save me, almost losing a leg to a bear attack. Now, he could shamelessly mess around with someone else and then casually tell me about it like it was nothing. Dealt with her? His “dealing with her” meant spending a sleepless night battling with that woman, from the bedroom to the living room. I suppressed the twisting pain in my heart and suddenly smiled. I looked up at him and asked, “Julian, did you ever…” …ever intend to marry me? But before I could finish, Chloe, the woman he’d just married, walked out of the restroom. She hurried over, leaned on Julian’s shoulder, and extended a hand towards me, feigning curiosity. “Hi, I’m Julian’s wife. And you are?” “His ex-girlfriend.” “My wife.” Julian and I answered at the same time. Chloe pouted and glared at him. She held up the marriage certificate. “Say that again, who’s your wife?” Julian looked a little embarrassed. He lit a cigarette, laughing along with her. “Alright, alright, for these three months, you’re my wife, okay?” Watching them flirt openly right in front of me, all the questions I’d pondered last night suddenly became irrelevant. Whether I was in his heart didn’t matter, whether he loved me didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was now someone else’s husband. The strategic alliance between our two powerful families involved too many interests. My father wouldn’t agree to break the engagement without solid evidence. But if Julian was already a married man, that changed everything. So, I pulled out my phone, ready to capture proof of their relationship. But Julian snatched my phone away. He pulled me aside, lowering his voice. “Skylar, what are you doing! I told you, getting the certificate with her was just to appease her. Once she calms down, I’ll divorce her in a few days.” His tone was so righteous, it was as if I was the one in the wrong.

Chloe opened the car door and called out in a sugary voice, “Honey~” Julian seemed to remember something then, giving me a look of guilt. “Um, I’m afraid she might get upset again, so I’m letting her stay in our marital home for a few days.” He said, taking off the wedding ring engraved with my name and pressing it into my hand. “Keep the ring for now, so I don’t accidentally upset her. She’s fragile right now, you need to cut her some slack.” I looked up at him, my eyes red, and let out a cynical laugh. “Julian, what makes you think I’d ‘cut her slack’? And what makes you think I’d ever stay with you?” His face instantly darkened. He gripped my wrist, a warning in his voice. “Skylar, the alliance between our families isn’t something you get to decide. I think you understand that clearly.” He was right. The alliance involved a multi-billion dollar project. This was Julian’s way of thinking he could control me. He gave me the most envied wedding in the city, announcing to the world that I was the wife he loved most in this life. But his real wife wasn’t me. I pulled my hand free and slapped him hard. “But you married someone else. You broke the contract between our families first.” He wiped away the blood from his lip, a cold smirk on his face, but he didn’t get angry. “Getting bold, Skylar? That’s the first time you’ve ever hit me.” Seeing my face remain stone cold, he sighed helplessly. “Fine, yes, I admit I was in the wrong first. But we can’t force a living girl to her death over this, can we? If I didn’t marry her, she threatened to jump. What was I supposed to do?” He reached up and wiped away the tears I couldn’t hold back. He stepped forward and hugged me, then softened his voice, nuzzling my neck. “Just give me three more months, Skylar. Let me handle this. After everything we’ve been through, don’t leave me. Just stay by my side, and be my wife, okay?” He always looked at me with those deeply affectionate eyes. It seemed Julian hadn’t forgotten our unforgettable past. That time he risked his life escaping a bear attack to save me, his leg was so badly bitten the bones were exposed. Yet he endured the pain, smiling as he wiped away my tears. “Why are you crying? Afraid no one will want you if I die?” Back then, Julian was a bit reckless, but he always put himself in danger for me without a second thought. So many close calls, even now, thinking back sends shivers down my spine. Julian loved me enough to risk his life, but he was tainted. That was an undeniable fact! “No!” I pushed him away, the sickness like I’d swallowed a fly churning in my stomach. I glared at him fiercely. “Don’t touch me, Julian. Either you divorce her right now, or we’re completely over! As for the board’s losses, our families will each bear their own.” “You!” He frowned in anger, then pulled out his phone from his pocket, his voice chillingly cold, a tone I’d never heard from him before: “Skylar, don’t regret this. Our first time last night was too precious, so I recorded it. You don’t want your naked body watched by thousands of online strangers, do you?” I gasped, sucking in a cold breath. “What did you say?”

Julian still brought her home. The first thing she did upon entering was throw away the couple’s slippers Julian and I shared, then picked up my pajamas, ready for a bath. Chloe walked over, clinging to him like a lost bird, pulling at the hem of Julian’s jacket on the sofa. “Our bathroom is too big, I… I’m scared alone.” Julian swallowed, glancing subtly at me. Seeing my expressionless face, he pulled his hand away and shot a look at the housekeeper, who was standing nearby. “You ladies go with her for her bath.” Then he sat up straighter, adding almost instinctively, “Oh, and remember to change the bath salts to rose-scented ones.” The two housekeepers exchanged glances, looking troubled. I knew they wanted to remind him that I was severely allergic to rose scent. That’s why there was no rose-scented bath gel in the house at all. Chloe pouted, then grabbed his tie and angrily sat on his lap. Seeing his face darken slightly, she quickly cooed an explanation: “Just bath salts aren’t enough, you know I have to have fresh rose petals for my bath!” Watching them flirt so openly in front of me, even the housekeepers couldn’t stand it. One of them cleared her throat loudly. “Excuse me, but we don’t have fresh roses. Our mistress, Skylar, dislikes the scent of roses.” Chloe froze for half a second, then threw herself onto Julian, starting to cry. “Julian, your housekeeper is bullying me!” Seeing them still standing there, Julian snapped, “What are you waiting for? If we don’t have them, then send someone out to buy them! Go quickly!” “But…” The housekeeper hesitated, about to say more, but then I shook my head, and she stifled her anger, sending someone to buy them. Chloe stopped crying, sat up, and chuckled, covering her mouth. “Julian, why are your ears so red? Last night you worked me so hard I could barely get out of bed, how come… you still want more?” Julian’s breathing deepened. He quickly cleared his throat and moved her hand away from him. “Go to the bathroom now, the roses will be delivered soon.” Chloe then glanced triumphantly at me, swaying her hips as she walked towards the bathroom. Julian sighed in relief, immediately stood up, and pulled me closer. “I was just putting on a show for her, to appease her. Don’t overthink it, my love.” I pulled my hand away. “Don’t call me ‘my love.’ It disgusts me. And, I’m just here to pack my things.” Hearing I was leaving, Julian’s face instantly hardened, his lips pressed into a tight, thin line. “Pack your things? Where are you going? If the reporters catch you moving out right after our wedding, how will you explain it to the board?” I couldn’t be bothered with him and turned to go upstairs. Julian took a big step forward and grabbed my wrist, his voice low and laced with a warning. “If you dare step out of this villa today, tomorrow I’ll make sure those videos appear on the front pages of every major media outlet.” Looking at this face that suddenly felt utterly alien to me, my voice trembled. “Julian, I never knew you could be so despicable!” Suddenly, a piercing scream, “Ah!” came from the bathroom.

“What’s wrong?” Julian finally let go of my hand, a hint of panic in his expression, and strode towards the bathroom. Not long after, I heard Chloe’s mischievous, triumphant laughter. “The water’s so nice, Julian, why are you here? Want to join me?” “Chloe, you tricked me?” He deliberately deepened his voice, but it was laced with an undeniable tenderness. The moment I heard his voice, my body went rigid, as if something inside me was slowly being torn away. I knew that tone too well. Because when Julian loved me most, even though he’d say things like, “Why are you such a handful?” his eyes would sparkle with an unmistakable, hidden smile. Not only was his body tainted, but his heart was too. I had to face the reality: Julian was in love with someone else. I raised a hand to wipe the tears from my face, then turned away from the bathroom and walked to the sofa. From the suit jacket Julian had taken off earlier, I took out two phones. I found it somewhat ironic that his password was still my birthday. His phone was full of my pictures. Each captioned with a date, and a sweet memory. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face as I scrolled through picture after picture with trembling hands. Until I saw the video he’d used to threaten me. Our wedding night video. Later, after I’d fallen asleep, he had carefully caressed my cheek, murmuring to himself. “Skylar, do you know how long I’ve waited for this day?” “But sometimes she’s so much like the old you, that I just couldn’t help but make a mistake. I know you can’t tolerate betrayal, but when you wake up, I’ll apologize first. You’ll forgive me, right?” He held my hand and rubbed it against his face. His reason for “repentance” was so laughable! He couldn’t control himself, yet he had to use such a flimsy excuse to justify his actions. I composed myself, clicked “delete permanently,” erasing all photos and all videos. Then I changed his password to his own birthday. To prevent any backups, I put the phone back, then went to the upstairs study. I deleted everything related to me there too! As for those glaring wedding photos, I waved my hand and told the housekeeper to have them all taken out and thrown away. “Was this Mr. Julian’s instruction? Did he already tell you that to avoid upsetting Chloe, nothing intimate between us should be left in the house?” The housekeeper hesitated, then nodded reluctantly, immediately instructing someone to take the photos. I reminded him, “Don’t listen to Julian about putting them in storage. Throw them out directly. What if Chloe gets a whim to go to the storage room one day, she might get upset and slit her wrists in there.” “Oh dear!” The housekeeper had no choice but to have all the photos thrown away. I finished packing my luggage and called my family’s driver. “George, please bring the car around and take me to the airport.” Just as I reached the stairwell, Julian, wearing a bathrobe, walked over. Seeing me with my suitcase, his deep eyes filled with fury. “Skylar, why aren’t you listening? Where are you going?” I met his gaze, unyielding, and walked down the stairs step by step. “We’re over, Julian. My affairs are none of your business.” Seeing that I was determined to leave, he smiled, walked to the sofa, and picked up his phone. “Fine. If you walk out that door today, I won’t mind sharing the video of you clinging to me, with thousands of online strangers!” I raised an eyebrow, letting out an indifferent, cold laugh. “Julian, that’s all you’ve got.” With that, ignoring his ashen face, I continued towards the door. He was furious, typing in the password wrong several times. Just then, Chloe, also wrapped in a bathrobe, slowly walked over. “What’s wrong, Julian?” But he pushed her away sharply. “Get lost!” Then he eagerly rushed after me. “Skylar, you changed my phone password?” “But what if I did? The password can be recovered quickly.” He suddenly remembered something and smiled coldly. “Even if you deleted it, what then? Skylar, you know how much I love you. How could I not have backups? So don’t try my patience. Stay by my side obediently!” I took his phone, typed in his birthday right in front of him, and handed it back. “I didn’t delete the video, see… it’s all there!” He snatched it back, glanced at it casually, not clearly seeing it. Just then, Chloe, full of anger, walked over and snatched it from him. “Why are you wasting words with her, Julian? If she wants to leave, I’ll post it for you!” Saying that, she eagerly tapped on a random video and uploaded it online.

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My mom is my homeroom teacher, and she loves using me to establish her authority. When I passed an eraser to a classmate during class, she slapped my face swollen in front of the entire class. When I sneakily ate a few crumbs of a classmate’s chips during break, Mom dragged me to the podium and stabbed my mouth with a needle until blood poured out. Later, when the dean caught some students dating, Mom insisted it was me without asking any questions and dragged me to the hallway, stripping off my clothes. Then she went to the dean’s office, all smiles and apologies: “I’m so sorry, Dean Morrison. I haven’t educated Nina properly. Don’t worry, I’ll punish her severely this time!” Dean frowned: “What Nina? The student who was dating isn’t this girl.” Mom froze for a moment, then said dismissively: “Oh, it’s fine. Nina breaks rules all the time anyway. One more punishment won’t hurt.” But what she doesn’t know is that every time she hits me, I secretly deduct a point from her score in my mind. Just now, I’ve accumulated 100 points. Without hesitation, I leapt from the sixth-floor hallway window. Mom, is using death to establish your authority enough?

I walked into the classroom holding my midterm exam paper, my right cheek swollen like a bun, traces of blood at the corner of my mouth. The students around me whispered: “Nina got beaten again, just because she didn’t get a perfect score in math. So tragic…” Wendy rolled her eyes: “Tragic? Her mom’s the homeroom teacher. She has access to the best resources and still can’t get a perfect score. Who else should get beaten?” I paused, swallowing the bitterness at the tip of my nose, and walked into the classroom. Just now in the office, Mom had slapped my face swollen in front of all the teachers and students. “98 points? Should you have lost those two points? Speak up!” Mom’s furious roar still seemed to echo in my ears. The beating left my right ear ringing so badly I could barely hear. But Mom still didn’t stop the punishment: “If you make such a careless mistake again, I’ll slap your left cheek swollen too!” Then she looked at the students behind me: “Those of you who also lost points due to carelessness, did you see that?” I didn’t know how the students behind me reacted. I just kept my head down, my fingers nearly drawing blood from my palms. After the other students left, Wendy stepped forward with a smile, acting cute with Mom: “Ms. Sterling, I didn’t mean to be so careless. I won’t do it again next time~” Mom smiled at her indulgently: “You’re always like this! Don’t do it again, understand?” Wendy stuck out her tongue playfully. I pressed my lips together, my fingers digging deeper. “Alright, you can all go now!” Mom waved her hand. Only then did I dare to slowly turn around, expertly pulling up my hoodie to hide my numb, beaten face. The second before leaving the office, I heard a teacher from another class say admiringly to my mom: “Wendy really is Ms. Sterling’s favorite class representative. You wouldn’t even touch a finger on her.” “Ms. Sterling really knows how to raise children. Your daughter just lets you hit her without making a sound!” Mom said proudly: “Wendy’s not dumb, she just doesn’t use her cleverness in the right places! As for my daughter, she’s been this obedient since childhood. She never talks back.” But Mom doesn’t know. Someone who doesn’t fight back when beaten or cursed is either a dog or a corpse. Because Mom uses me to establish authority, no one in class dares to be my friend. Enduring the pain in my right hand, I returned to my seat and pulled out a miniature notebook from my sleeve. “Face slapped swollen for scoring 98 on math test. Deduct 1 point from Mom.” I wrote it down silently. This is the 99th time already. That means Mom has used me to establish her authority exactly 99 times. One more time, and I’ll be free. For a warrior, making a life-or-death decision takes only a moment. But I’m not a warrior. I’m an ordinary person, cowardly and weak. I carefully tucked the notebook back into my sleeve and took out my math paper. Even though it was break time, I wasn’t allowed to play with others. Listening to the sounds of classmates laughing and playing around me, the wound on my right cheek seemed to hurt even more. Wendy walked over to me, sneering with contempt: “Nina, Ms. Sterling treats me like a real daughter. You must be an orphan Ms. Sterling picked up, nothing more than a punching bag.” I clenched my fists tightly, staring at her coldly: “Someone whose mother abandoned her loves stealing other people’s moms.” Wendy’s mother ran off with someone else when she was four years old. This wasn’t a secret in class. At these words, Wendy’s eyes widened, instantly furious: “Nina, you just wait!” “I’m waiting.” I said coldly. She would just go whisper in Mom’s ear and get me another beating. Perfect. That would be doing me one last favor.

That evening, I pushed open the front door and smelled the familiar aroma of food. The living room glowed with warm yellow light. Mom sat at the dining table with a salad and pizza in front of her. I changed my shoes very quietly, trying to hide my swollen right cheek and the blood traces at the corner of my mouth in the shadows. But the moment I moved, Mom looked up. “You’re back?” Her voice was still stern, but carried a trace of barely perceptible concern. “Does your face still hurt?” I lowered my eyes, shook my head, and sat down at the other end of the table, taking small bites of food. Each bite was torture. Every chew pulled at my facial muscles. It hurt so much. I just swallowed the food whole instead. Suddenly, Mom put down her fork and knife and walked over. My body instinctively stiffened, the muscles in my back tensing. But she just knelt down beside me, reached out her hand, and with cool fingertips, lightly touched my burning, badly swollen cheek. I flinched like I’d been electrocuted. Her fingers paused, and she sighed deeply: “Nina, it hasn’t been easy for Mom to raise you alone.” As she spoke, her eyes gradually reddened. Shedding the daytime armor of a homeroom teacher, she became a struggling single mother. “Mom’s a homeroom teacher managing over fifty kids. Without authority, I can’t function. Discipline falls apart, grades drop, the principal comes after me, parents complain about me.” “You’re Mom’s daughter. If you perform the best, behave the most properly, excel the most, only then will the other students respect me, fear me. Mom needs to establish authority.” Her rough fingers caressed the corner of my eye. That area was dry. I hadn’t cried. I just looked at her slightly red eyes, at that old house dress washed until it was faded and white. Something inside my heart seemed to break open. After a long while, I heard my own dry voice: “Today… Wendy told me I’m just a punching bag, that you don’t see me as your daughter at all.” Mom’s hand froze. The sadness and vulnerability on her face receded like a tide, replaced by an offended severity. “What nonsense are you talking about?!” Mom’s voice suddenly rose, the caring mother image instantly swept away: “You must have said something provocative to Wendy first. Even if you’re jealous of her, you shouldn’t lie!” I closed my eyes, but couldn’t help opening my mouth to sneer: “What am I jealous of? Her bad grades? Her absent mother?” “Slap!” A vicious slap rang out. I was struck so hard my head whipped to the side. My already swollen right cheek swelled even higher. For a moment, my right ear seemed to go deaf. “How can you talk like that? Such vicious words, I can’t believe they came from my own daughter’s mouth!” “Own daughter…” I repeated the words in a murmur, suddenly finding it absurdly funny, almost wanting to laugh. “So I deserve to be beaten the hardest? Deserve to have no dignity?” “You!” Mom’s chest heaved with anger, her pointing finger trembling. “You’re so ungrateful! I’ve worked so hard…” I expertly tuned out her tearful complaints. Once, these words could instantly soften my heart, make me think Mom had it so hard. But today, those words passed through that hole like wind, leaving no trace. For my own good—so she had to slap my face swollen, had to stab my mouth with needles. So “for my own good” was this kind of bone-scraping, dignity-crushing pain. After she finished scolding, she wiped her face, stood up, and returned to that exhausted calm, as if her earlier rage was just my imagination: “Alright, hurry up and eat. You need to get up early tomorrow.” I lowered my head and continued eating the pizza that had long gone cold. Under the table, my fingers curled, rubbing the miniature notebook hidden in my sleeve. Soon. I said to myself in my heart.

The next day at school. After the lunch break bell rang, I pressed my face against the desk, my right cheek against the cool surface, trying to ease the pain. Wendy suddenly walked in with her head held high, leaned close to my ear, her voice full of undisguised glee: “You’re finished.” I looked down indifferently, thinking carelessly. If I died, Mom would probably adopt Wendy as her daughter. After all, she loves Wendy most. I just wonder if Wendy can withstand her authority-establishing methods. Just then, the door was suddenly slammed open with such force that everyone looked up. Mom stood in the doorway, chest heaving violently, face ashen. She walked to the center of the classroom, her gaze like a poisoned probe, slowly and coldly piercing through each panicked face one by one. Finally, that gaze locked firmly onto me. My heart suddenly sank, plunging into an ice cellar. “Our class has really outdone itself.” She suppressed the terrifying storm in her eyes. “Someone’s thoughts aren’t where they should be, learning those low-class things—dating! And got caught red-handed!” Dead silence. Everyone held their breath. “Nina, get out here!” Blood instantly rushed to the top of my head, then drained completely the next second. “I didn’t…” My voice trembled. “You didn’t?!” Mom sharply interrupted, stepping forward, her shadow looming over me. Just then, came the slight sound of a chair moving from the front row. Wendy stood up. She lowered her head slightly, fingers anxiously twisting the hem of her clothes, cheeks flushed with difficult red. She first looked timidly at the furious Mom, then quickly glanced at me, her eyes incredibly complex—seemingly reluctant, yet resigned. “Ms. Sterling…” Her voice was thin and trembling. “Wendy, tell me. What do you know? Don’t be afraid, just tell the truth.” Wendy seemed encouraged yet more troubled. She bit her lip, finally raising her watery eyes: “Last Friday after school, I saw Nina and that boy from Class 7 kissing behind the school’s back gate…” Instantly, I felt the surrounding air sucked out, cold suffocation gripping my throat. “You’re lying! Wendy, you’re making false accusations!” I jumped up, trembling all over with anger and injustice. “I don’t even know—” “NINA!!” A roar exploded like thunder over my head. Mom had already stepped in front of me, raising her hand and delivering a full-force slap to my already swollen right cheek.

The world instantly flipped, roaring. Intense pain exploded, spreading from my cheek through my entire skull in an instant. My vision went black. Warm liquid gushed from both my nose and mouth. The sweet metallic taste of rust filled my mouth. “How dare you talk back?! How dare you lie?!” Mom’s voice became shrill and distorted. She grabbed my bangs forcefully, dragging me toward the podium like a dead dog, stumbling and lurching. Tearing pain came from my scalp, but I couldn’t feel it anymore—only the burning sensation on my face and the overwhelming humiliation. “Everyone look closely!” She slammed me hard against the solid edge of the podium. My waist hit it, the pain making me groan as I curled up. She yanked my hair, forcing me to expose my blood-covered, rapidly swelling face to the entire class. “Look at this face! This is what happens when you break school rules!” “I didn’t… Mom… I really didn’t…” Tears mixed with blood covering my face, I even forgot to call her “teacher” in my desperate state. I struggled futilely, crying out, my voice broken beyond recognition. Through blurred vision, I saw countless frightened and curious eyes below. Wendy stood at her seat, lips slightly curved, eyes full of satisfaction, piercing through my heart like madness. “Didn’t? The witness is right here and you still dare say you didn’t?!” She suddenly grabbed my arm: “Come out! Get to the hallway! Let everyone see what happens to those who don’t follow rules and have filthy thoughts!” I was half-dragged, half-pulled out of the classroom. Then her hands reached for my school uniform jacket zipper. “No… don’t! Mom! Please don’t do this! I was wrong, I really know I was wrong!” Unprecedented terror seized me instantly. I broke into piercing screams, struggling with all my strength, both hands desperately protecting my chest, fingernails digging deep into the fabric of my uniform. “Now you know you were wrong? Too late!” Her voice was utterly cold: “Today I’m going to make you remember! Everyone will watch too—this is what happens when you date!” “Riiip—” The cheap school uniform zipper burst open under brute force. Buttons were torn off, flying away. The fabric was roughly ripped open. A large expanse of shoulder and collarbone was suddenly exposed to the cold air and prying eyes. “Ahhh!!” I screamed in complete breakdown, desperately curling my body, futilely trying to cover myself with the torn fabric and trembling arms. Cold, so cold. Every pore was screaming with cold. But even colder than the temperature was that inescapable, stripped-naked-for-display humiliation. At the end of the hallway, students from other classes had already come to investigate the noise, peering from a distance, pointing and whispering. But Mom stood like a victorious general. She panted, looking at me—curled up in the corner, clothes in disarray, face covered in blood, shaking like a leaf in the wind—full of authority and satisfaction. “Kneel here and reflect! Don’t you dare stand up without my permission!”

Mom didn’t look at me again. She smoothed her hair, which had become slightly disheveled from the violence, straightened the wrinkles on her clothes, and restored the solemn expression belonging to “Ms. Sterling” to her face. She turned and walked toward the dean’s office. I shook like a sieve, my heart aching as if being tortured by a thousand cuts. I didn’t understand why I had to endure all this. Why my dignity was just a tool for establishing authority. I don’t know how much time passed. Maybe just a few minutes, maybe a century. My left arm could still move. Slowly, extremely slowly, I raised my trembling hand and reached into my school pants pocket. My little notebook. I used every bit of strength remaining in my body to write with trembling hand: “Falsely accused of dating, publicly stripped and humiliated. Deduct 1 point from Mom.” Closing the notebook, I leaned against the wall, bit by bit, supporting my body that no longer seemed to belong to me. My knees hurt so much, my face hurt, the exposed skin stung from the wind. But my head felt light and floating. Like breaking free from some incredibly heavy shackles embedded in flesh and blood. I struggled to sit on the hallway window ledge. Before me was the sun-drenched green lawn and field. I could faintly hear the happy voices and laughter of students. So nice. I thought, gasping. The next second, my hand gripping the window frame released. My body leaned forward, out the window. The wind instantly became violent, roaring as it filled my ears. The sensation of weightlessness enveloped my entire body. Mom. I’m using death to help you establish authority. Is it enough? The door to the dean’s office was slightly ajar. From inside came Mom’s apologetic voice: “I’m so sorry, Dean. I haven’t educated Nina properly. Don’t worry, this time I’ll definitely punish her severely, teach her a lesson, and set an example for the other students!” Dean frowned, looking at the pair of male and female students hanging their heads before him, puzzled: “What Nina? The students who were dating aren’t from your class.” The smile on Mom’s face froze, but she quickly recovered, awkwardly waving her hand: “Oh, it’s not Nina? Never mind, never mind. It’s all the same. Since we caught a dating case, we need to make an example. Nina can serve as a warning to all students.” Dean’s frown deepened. Nearly fifty years old, he’d seen all kinds of teachers, but this was the first time seeing one like Ms. Sterling who, knowing she’d gotten the wrong person, still insisted on using her own daughter as a scapegoat to establish authority. “Ms. Sterling, this isn’t appropriate. These two students made the mistake and should be handled accordingly. If Nina didn’t do anything wrong, how can we punish her unjustly? That’s not fair to the child.” At these words, Mom’s expression soured, but she quickly put on that “everything’s for work” serious face: “Dean, Nina is my daughter. If I punish her, the students will be more afraid, will know I’m impartial. Nina will understand my good intentions.” When she said this, her tone was certain, her eyes even carrying a trace of “sacrificing the small for the greater good” self-satisfaction. Dean wanted to say something more when the office door was suddenly slammed open with a “bang.” A female student, face bloodless, voice carrying a sob and trembling disbelief: “Ms. Sterling! Something terrible happened! Nina… she jumped from the building!”

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“Lauren! You were hooking up in a classroom!” Someone shoved me hard to the ground, and my intimate clothing came raining down on my head. Mixed with that familiar scent, along with mocking jeers from everyone around me. The student advisor standing nearby had a face as black as coal. He waved his hand to dismiss the gawking crowd. “You had the guts to put on a show right here in the classroom—why not strip down completely and give us the full performance?” Laughter with unclear undertones rippled through the crowd. Several guys nearby exchanged knowing glances, their lecherous gazes landing on me. In my past life, my roommate Sarah had tricked me into coming to the classroom and made me take the fall for her. She and her boyfriend had gotten hot and heavy in the classroom. When they were caught, she hid my underwear there and pinned the blame on me. Worse yet, her boyfriend Mark insisted that I had seduced him. Under the fury of the mob, I became everyone’s target. The guaranteed graduate school admission I had planned for was canceled because of this incident. People called me a slut, questioned whether my top grades were also stolen. Under crushing pressure, I was driven to jump from a building and kill myself! Reborn, watching Mark and Sarah—that pair of scheming scumbags—I clenched my fists. This time, I won’t fall for your tricks again!

“Lauren, explain yourself. What happened?” The advisor sat at the desk with a dark expression, his tone full of impatience. “At such a young age, instead of studying properly, you do this kind of shameful thing in a classroom? You’ve made our entire department lose face.” The advisor showed no curiosity about the truth, only undisguised disgust. I forced myself to stand up from the ground, dusted off my clothes, and picked up that lace bra from the desk. “Shouldn’t you know better than anyone what really happened here?” I held the bra up toward Sarah, catching the flash of shock in her eyes, and sneered. “Stop pretending. You think framing me will get you off the hook?” Sarah hurriedly hid behind the advisor, tears welling in her eyes. “Professor, I’m innocent.” Professor Julian patted Sarah’s shoulder comfortingly, then turned and glared at me furiously. “Lauren, I never thought you’d be this kind of person. Sarah has always been gentle and mild-mannered, and she’s on the school’s financial aid program for underprivileged students. How could she possibly do something like this? I think you’re the shameless one, and now that you’ve been caught red-handed, you’re trying to drag someone else down with you!” He kept Sarah protectively behind him, his favoritism obvious. I suddenly remembered that in my past life, if it weren’t for him, my conviction wouldn’t have been sealed so quickly. It seemed he and Sarah had been colluding even back then. “Julian, how can you prove this thing is mine?” I raised an eyebrow and pulled out my phone, opening the chat history. “She sent me a message just now saying she had something important to discuss. That’s the only reason I came to the classroom. Otherwise, why would I be here?” Julian didn’t even look before swatting my hand away, his voice furious. “You even forged chat records? Lauren, do you have any awareness of what it means to be a college student? Have all those years of education been completely wasted on you?” Julian was livid. “And you call yourself an outstanding student. Looks like I need to have the school revoke all those honors. And forget about that graduate school recommendation.” I wasn’t anxious at all. Instead, I smiled. “Julian, the truth hasn’t even been investigated yet. Is it necessary to jump to conclusions so quickly? Or do you already know the truth and are deliberately covering it up?” I smiled without warmth, watching his face grow darker and darker. Until Mark suddenly rushed forward with an angry shout. “Lauren! You bitch! Last week you cornered me in the cafeteria saying you wanted to date me. After I rejected you, you held a grudge and set up this scheme to frame me. You’re truly vicious!” Watching his self-directed theatrical performance, I sneered. “Really? Wasn’t it actually you threatening me to give up my graduate school recommendation slot? And when I refused, you flew into a rage? How did it suddenly become me framing you?” I opened another recording on my phone. “I happened to record it. Want to listen together?” As soon as the recording started playing, Julian suddenly rushed over, trying to grab my phone. “You’re invading a student’s privacy!” I nimbly dodged to the side, deliberately turning the phone volume to maximum. “This counts as a threat? Then what about him just now trying to rush over and tear me apart? Julian, you seem awfully anxious. Are you deliberately trying to cover for a student?” Mark was a student council officer who loved sucking up to people and had won the favor of many teachers. Julian protecting him was understandable. “Lauren, you dare slander both students and teachers? Believe it or not, I’ll put a disciplinary mark on your record right now?” “All you ever talk about is disciplinary marks. Besides that, what else can you do? Anyway, I’m keeping all this evidence. If the school requires it, I’ll cooperate with the investigation at any time.” I put my phone in my pocket. Snickering laughter rose around us. They seemed to find it satisfying that I’d talked back to the teacher. “But if it turns out I’m not at fault, Julian, I’ll need you to apologize to me publicly.” Julian snorted coldly. “If you really are innocent, I’ll get down on my knees and apologize to you publicly. I’ve been a teacher for so many years, and I’ve never seen a student like you!”

“Fine, then it’s settled.” I turned to look at Mark, whose face had gone deathly pale. In my past life, if he hadn’t insisted on pinning everything on me, I wouldn’t have been called names to my face. “I remember there are security cameras in the third-floor hallway and behind the classroom. Pull up the footage and we’ll know who’s lying. Julian, go check it quickly.” After hearing this, Julian’s face instantly stiffened, as if he’d forgotten about the security cameras. But he quickly steeled himself and lied without changing his expression. “The cameras just happened to break recently. Can’t check them. Besides, you shouldn’t be hanging around empty classrooms anyway. You came here on your own, so if something happens, it’s your own responsibility.” My heart suddenly ached. In my past life, he had said the exact same thing to me in the office. He said I had “bad character” and “flies don’t land on uncracked eggs”—that everything was my own fault. That’s why I became so disheartened that I jumped from the tall building. “Really? The cameras are broken? Then let’s go check right now and see if they’re actually broken.” I turned to leave, but Julian suddenly grabbed my sleeve, his grip vicious. “You’re a student in my class, and I’m your advisor. This matter is my responsibility. Where do you think you’re going?” I jerked free and pointed at the male students around us whose mouths were full of filthy, obscene remarks. “Then as my advisor, when they’re filming me with their phones and saying disgusting, perverted things, why are you pretending not to see it? I’m your student. Instead of trying to get to the truth first, you’re arguing with me. Is that your job?” I grabbed Julian’s wrist and rushed outside. “Whether the cameras are broken or not, we’ll know once we check at the security office!” Julian struggled and roared like a pig being slaughtered: “Lauren, you’re staging a rebellion!” Sarah rushed forward desperately to block us, but I swung my hand and knocked her aside. She stumbled and crashed into a desk corner. Shocked cries rose all around. Sarah’s face instantly turned pale as paper. Just then, a senior administrator from the school suddenly pushed the door open. Toby, who led the group, had a serious expression. His gaze swept over everyone present: “Everyone follow me to the office for questioning! Who gave you permission to gather and cause trouble during class hours?” We were all brought to the office together. Also there were two other roommates from our dorm, Rachel and Jenna. They usually got along well with me and had long been dissatisfied with Sarah monopolizing the financial aid slot. They would definitely testify about Sarah’s behavior! “Rachel, Jenna, thank goodness you’re here. Tell them—isn’t this underwear Sarah’s?” I grabbed their hands like they were lifelines. “We called you two here to get to the bottom of whose clothing this actually is.” As soon as the door closed, Toby’s face darkened enough to drip water. “The four of you share a dorm room. You’re most familiar with Sarah and Lauren’s usual behavior. Now tell me, whose underwear is this? I will see that justice is served.” After Toby finished speaking, Jenna and Rachel glanced at each other and swallowed hard. “We can testify that Sarah stole this clothing from Lauren.” Instantly, the room fell silent. Julian’s expression turned ashen. “You two better think carefully! Do you know what consequences lying to Toby will bring?” Jenna nodded. “We’re telling the truth.” Then they both said something that left me completely stunned. “But the person who was fooling around with Mark in the classroom was indeed Lauren.”

Bone-chilling cold shot up from the soles of my feet to the top of my head. Looking at Rachel and Jenna’s evasive eyes and the phones peeking out of their pockets. I understood almost immediately—they had been bought off too. In my past life, even until my death, I never knew that these two roommates I lived with day and night had betrayed me long ago. Sarah peeked out from behind Julian, looking pitiful: “Lauren, I know you resent me, but Rachel and Jenna are innocent. Stop struggling and just admit it.” Hearing this, Mark straightened his back triumphantly: “Lauren, even your roommates are saying this. What else do you have to argue? Confess early and maybe you’ll get lighter treatment.” Julian immediately chimed in: “Professor Toby, the facts are very clear! I recommend immediately revoking Lauren’s graduate school recommendation and giving her a major disciplinary mark to set an example!” The three of them sang in harmony, as if I really were that shameless criminal. That suffocating feeling from my past life hit me again. But this time, I didn’t cry. Instead, I laughed. “In that case,” I walked up to Rachel and stared into her eyes, “you borrowed my tablet last week. Time to return it now, right?” In my past life, Rachel had cried to me about not having study tools and borrowed my tablet. After I lent it to her, I discovered she actually wanted my review materials and papers. By the time I found out, she had already sold them to other people. So almost the entire major had copies of the materials I’d painstakingly compiled. And Rachel kept my tablet for herself. If I hadn’t brought it up, she probably wouldn’t even remember to return it. If I wasn’t mistaken, it should contain her chat history with Sarah. Rachel’s face changed dramatically, and she instinctively covered her backpack: “The tablet’s not here. It’s in the dorm.” “Really?” I smiled without warmth and pulled out my phone, opening the cloud backup for my devices. It showed my tablet was nearby. “Take out what’s in your bag.” My voice was cold. Toby on the side seemed to realize something, his face darkening. “Rachel, please take out what’s in your bag.” Rachel instinctively looked toward Sarah. But Sarah had already frozen completely in place. I yanked her backpack away and pulled out my tablet. “You changed my lock screen password so quickly. Looks like you planned to keep it for yourself all along.” I smiled and held the tablet screen up to her. “Unlock it.”

Rachel’s hands trembled as she entered her own birthday. I fiddled with it briefly and pulled up the relevant chat records. “You don’t even delete your chat history? Or did you think I was too stupid to check?” I handed the tablet to Toby. “Professor Toby, I think you need to see this.” Toby took it, and three seconds later his face turned ashen. “Rachel, Sarah, you actually slandered a classmate for money and materials? Julian, these are the students you’ve taught?” Julian, whose name was called, trembled all over, stuttering without being able to say a word. “I—” “And you, Jenna. You secretly took my paper to submit for publication, and after it was rejected you turned around and cursed me out. Want me to show those records to Toby too?” Jenna, suddenly called out, was so frightened she couldn’t say a word. Nearby, Sarah’s tears and snot flowed together as she suddenly dropped to her knees. “Lauren, I was wrong… This is all my fault.” She slapped herself twice hard. Her originally fair cheeks immediately swelled up. “I know I come from a humble background and don’t deserve to compete with you. This is all my fault…” Watching her groveling, fake performance, I remembered my past life when I was driven to jump from the building—their triumphant smiles. Only cold hatred remained in my eyes. Originally my family was happy and harmonious, and my parents were proud of me. After she framed me, everything changed overnight. When I became a ghost drifting through the night after jumping, I clearly saw how my parents sobbed while holding my corpse. And she stepped on my honor, claiming various scholarships and rising to great heights. Just then, Toby’s phone rang. He answered, listened for a few moments, and his expression grew even more serious. “Alright, I understand. Come over right now.” Julian still tried to struggle: “Lauren, you’re framing people! Even if they were wrong, it doesn’t prove you’re innocent! The surveillance footage has been destroyed—you have no evidence!” “Julian, you want evidence, is that it?” I pulled a USB drive from my bag and slapped it on the table. “Last year the school installed a hidden camera in the classroom ceiling to prevent fire hazards. If I’m not mistaken, you and Sarah didn’t have time to destroy that one, did you?” Toby picked up the USB drive. Just as he was about to insert it into the computer, Julian suddenly rushed over like a madman trying to grab it. “Julian, the USB only has my thesis and review materials on it. What I said before was to trick you.” I sneered. “This is the real one.” As I pressed play on my phone, the conversation between Julian and a school administrator immediately echoed throughout the classroom.

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My husband is a star personal trainer at the gym. He’s got a great body and tons of female clients. I was scrolling through TikTok when I came across a video titled “Immersive Personal Training Session.” “I met this incredible trainer who doesn’t just teach me how to build a peachy butt—he teaches me how to use it too.” The caption was obscenely explicit: “He says his wife at home is too conservative. She won’t even wear yoga pants. But me in my sweat-soaked workout gear? That’s what drives him wild.” “Every stretching session, he stretches me to the depths of my soul. Says my flexibility is ten thousand times better than his wife’s.” Someone in the comments asked: “Is the trainer single?” Her reply: “Married, but he told me—marriage is responsibility. I’m his pleasure.” “Just now his wife checked up on him. He sent her a voice message saying he was training a client’s legs, while he was still going at it with me. So bad~” At the end of the video, the camera swept across the man’s calf. There was a vicious scar there—a badge of honor from last year when he saved me from nearly being hit by a car. And right now, that leg was propped up on the woman’s shoulder.

The light from my phone screen stabbed at my eyes. On the screen, a woman in tight yoga clothes was sprawled on a yoga mat. A pair of large hands pressed down on her perky buttocks. “Coach, please be gentle~” The woman’s voice dripped with seduction. “Can’t handle it already?” The man’s voice was low and laced with laughter, carrying notes of flirtation and wild desire. It was Derek Chase. The same Derek who blushed at saying anything harsh to me, who came home every day only to complain about being tired. I stared at the top comment’s reply beneath the video. [Married, but he told me—marriage is responsibility. I’m his pleasure.] I clicked into the woman’s profile. Her pinned video had this caption: [I’m pouting, he’s smiling. This is what love looks like at its best.] In the video, Derek was doing push-ups with her on his back. With each push-up, she leaned down and kissed his neck. Derek’s face was full of adoration. The video was posted yesterday at 9 PM. At that exact time, I’d been writhing in bed with acute gastroenteritis, calling him in agony. He’d said: “Mara, I’m with a private training client. This student is really important—yearly membership, big spender. I can’t leave. Just drink some hot water, okay? Be good.” So this was the truth. My stomach churned violently. I rushed to the bathroom and threw up until I was dizzy. The door lock clicked. Derek was home. He walked into the bedroom carrying the winter chill and the scent of body wash. Not the brand we used at home. It was a sickeningly sweet peach scent. “Mara, why are you still up?” He walked over, trying to hug me like always. I instinctively turned away. His hand froze mid-air. He frowned, then quickly switched to a concerned expression. “What’s wrong? Still mad about yesterday? I told you, that was for work. To earn money for our family.” He sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to feel my forehead. I looked down at his calf. His pant leg had ridden up slightly, revealing that winding scar. It was from last year when an out-of-control electric scooter came rushing at me, and he threw himself in front of me without hesitation. Back then he’d said: “Mara, as long as you’re okay, losing a leg would be worth it.” At that moment, I’d sworn to love him forever. But now, that scar was like a mocking mouth, silently ridiculing my stupidity. “Derek,” my voice came out hoarse. “Why do you smell like peaches?” His expression flickered, gone in an instant. “Oh, the gym switched to new body wash. The scent is pretty strong. If you don’t like it, I’ll shower again when I get home next time.” His answer was airtight. “That big client yesterday—male or female?” I stared into his eyes. Derek sighed, his tone tinged with impatience. “Mara, are you interrogating me again? Of course it’s a guy. What female client would have the stamina to train that late?” “Really?” I pulled out my phone and held it in front of his face. “Then who’s this woman? And whose scar is this on that leg?” The video played. The woman’s breathy moans echoed through the quiet bedroom. Derek’s pupils dilated. He snatched my phone away, his fingers flying across the screen. “Mara! Can you stop being so paranoid and watching this garbage all day?” He looked at me, his face full of wronged fury. “This is for marketing! To sell training packages! Do you have any idea how competitive the gym industry is? Without these provocative gimmicks, who’s going to buy packages?” “This is all scripted! It’s staged!” “Staged?” “Staging requires you to go to bed with her? Staging requires you to say I’m responsibility and she’s pleasure?” Derek froze for a second, then flew into an embarrassed rage. “That’s just copywriting! Do you understand internet marketing? Mara, I bust my ass out there every day—for who? And here you are, not only showing no appreciation, but attacking me over this nonsense!” He got more worked up as he spoke. “If you don’t trust me this much, there’s no point in staying together!” With that, he grabbed his pillow, slammed the door viciously, and went to the guest room.

I lay awake with my eyes open until dawn. The next morning, while I was still washing up, my phone buzzed. A friend request on SnapChat. Username: “Ivy.” Verification message: [Hi there, I’m Coach Derek’s student. I wanted to explain things to you.] I accepted. The next second, a photo came through. A man’s hand resting on a woman’s thigh. The hand wore a wedding ring. [Ivy: Girl, you really don’t get it. Men work hard out there. When they come home and still have to deal with your attitude, who wouldn’t feel suffocated?] [Ivy: Derek says you have zero sense of romance. You won’t even let him rip off your yoga pants. So boring.] My hand trembled as I held the phone. [Ivy: If I were you, I’d gracefully step aside. After all, Derek’s happiness now comes from me.] Naked provocation. I screenshotted everything and was about to reply when Derek emerged from the guest room. He’d changed into tight workout clothes, his hair slicked back. “Mara, I’m skipping breakfast. Got an early class.” He acted like nothing had happened, completely forgetting last night’s fight. “Derek.” I held up my phone, showing Ivy’s photos on the screen. Derek’s expression changed. He strode over and grabbed my wrist. “She contacted you? That crazy girl!” After seeing the chat history, instead of showing guilt, he actually looked relieved. “Mara, don’t listen to her nonsense. She’s just some spoiled rich brat with mental problems. Delusional.” “Delusional enough to have your hand on her thigh?” Derek ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “That was to keep her hooked! She just dropped two hundred thousand on training packages with me! Two hundred thousand, Mara!” “The customer is king. When the king makes excessive demands, can I refuse? I’m just playing along!” He looked at me self-righteously. “Can you be a little more mature? Stop competing with some young girl, okay?” “Mature?” I laughed bitterly. “Derek, you call cheating ‘playing along’? You call your mistress provoking me ‘a delusional young girl’?” “What cheating! Don’t make it sound so ugly!” Derek raised his voice. “Don’t I give you all the money I earn?” “Mara, have a conscience. I nearly crippled my leg saving you. Now I’m sacrificing my dignity for this family, and instead of being grateful, you keep attacking me. Are you trying to drive me to death?” He brought up that scar again. Every time we fought, he’d mention that car accident. And every time he mentioned it, I’d have to back down. But this time, I wasn’t backing down. “If it’s so unbearable, refund the money. Stop training this client.” I stared at him. “Two hundred thousand. We don’t need it.” Derek exploded. “Are you insane? That’s two hundred thousand! You think you can just say no to it? You think money grows on trees?” “Mara, you’re being so selfish! Who am I working so hard for? Now you want me to refund the money? You’re trying to destroy my career!” He glared at me viciously. “This is unbelievable! I’m not coming home tonight. I’m working overtime at the gym!” The door slammed shut. I looked at the empty house, my heart growing colder by the second. My phone buzzed again. [Ivy: Derek left, didn’t he? He said he’s coming to my place tonight to fix my plumbing. Want to come watch?] The attached image showed lingerie. I replied with one sentence. [Sure. Send me your address.] Silence for a few seconds. [Ivy: Skyline International Apartments. You actually dare to come? Don’t cry on your way home.]

I changed clothes and put on careful makeup. Skyline International Apartments was one of the city’s most upscale complexes. I didn’t go up right away. Instead, I went to a nearby mall. I bought the latest model action camera and clipped it to my bag strap. Then I headed to Derek’s gym. Before I even entered, I heard cheering inside. “Derek’s the man! Those weighted squats—nobody does it like you!” “Ivy’s got an incredible body!” I pushed open the glass door. A crowd had gathered in the personal training area. Derek was lying on a bench press, hands gripping a barbell. And Ivy was straddling his waist. With each of Derek’s movements, she rose and fell, making sounds that would make anyone blush. “Coach, faster~” The woman’s voice was unbearably seductive. “Can’t handle this already?” The man’s voice was low and amused, dripping with flirtation and wildness. The male trainers and clients around them whistled. Derek’s face was flushed red, his eyes filled with enjoyment and excitement. This wasn’t fitness training. This was public foreplay. I stood outside the crowd, coldly watching the scene. Someone noticed me. “Hey, isn’t that Derek’s wife?” Derek’s movements faltered. He nearly dropped the barbell. Ivy turned to see me. Instead of getting off, she wrapped her arms around Derek’s neck and raised her chin at me in challenge. “Oh, look who’s here. Derek’s giving me core training. Want to try it too?” Derek frantically pushed Ivy off and sat up. “Mara, what are you doing here?” He wiped his sweat, eyes darting away. “Didn’t you say you were resting at home?” I walked over, looking at Ivy’s face—full of collagen but written all over with desire. “I came to bring you lunch.” I held up my thermos. “I was worried you were working too hard and not eating enough.” Ivy burst out laughing. “Bringing lunch? Girl, what is this, elementary school? A beast like Derek needs protein, not your watery soup.” She reached out and poked Derek’s chest. “Right, Derek? You just said earlier that after having the imported protein powder I bought you, your stamina got way better.” Derek looked around awkwardly and grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the break room. “Enough. Don’t make a scene. People are watching.” Once in the break room, he flung my hand away, his expression darkening. “Mara, what exactly are you trying to do? Come here to sabotage me on purpose?” “Bringing you lunch is sabotaging you?” I looked at him. “But her riding on top of you and moaning—that’s bringing you honor?” “That was a training movement! Glute bridges! Do you understand anything?” Derek hissed in a low voice. “In front of all those clients, you show up with that dead face—you know how embarrassing that was for me?” “Embarrassing?” “Your pride comes from having female clients ride on top of you?” “Shut up!” Derek pointed at my nose. “Ivy’s a rich kid. Her family’s loaded. What leaks through her fingers is enough to keep us comfortable! That’s just her personality. Can’t you just turn a blind eye?” “Turn a blind eye and wait for her to move in?” “You’re impossible!” Derek spun around in frustration. “Mara, look at yourself. What do you have that compares to her? She’s young, beautiful, knows how to flirt, knows how to have fun. And you? You’re lifeless all day, dressed like a middle-aged woman. I’m embarrassed to take you anywhere!” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. Middle-aged woman? Who was it that used to say he loved my bare face the most? Who said I looked better without makeup than all those “cheap sluts”? Turns out, when love dies, even breathing is wrong. Just then, the break room door was pushed open. Ivy leaned against the doorframe. “Derek, don’t be angry. If you damage your health, who’s going to train with me?” She walked in, completely ignoring my presence, and handed water directly to Derek’s lips. “Have some water and calm down. She’s older, probably going through menopause. Gets sensitive easily. You need to be understanding.” Derek took the water and drank from her hand, his anger dissipating, replaced by an ingratiating smile. “You’re so understanding, Ivy.” Ivy turned to look at me, her eyes full of contempt. “Did you hear that? Men need to be coaxed. Being aggressive like this will only push him further away.” “By the way, are we still on for fixing the plumbing tonight? I’ve been preparing for so long.” Her gaze swept over Derek’s lower body. Derek coughed dryly, glanced at me guiltily, then said to Ivy: “Yes, of course. When have I ever broken a promise to you?” My heart turned to ice. Right in front of me, he was openly flirting and making hookup plans. I set the thermos on the table. “Fine. Since you need to fix plumbing, I won’t disturb you.” I turned to leave. Behind me came Ivy’s triumphant laughter: “Take care, bye now~” Derek didn’t chase after me. I walked out of the gym into blinding sunlight. I touched the camera on my bag strap. The red light kept blinking. Perfect. Derek. Ivy. I’ll repay every humiliation you’ve given me, with interest.

At 10 PM, rain poured down. I received a call from the hospital. “Is this Ms. Mara Evans? Your father has had a sudden cerebral hemorrhage. He’s in emergency surgery. We need a family member to sign immediately!” The phone nearly slipped from my hand. My dad had high blood pressure, but it had always been well-controlled. How could he suddenly have a brain hemorrhage? I rushed to the hospital while calling Derek. The background on his end was noisy—heavy metal music and women’s screaming. “What? I’m busy right now!” Derek’s voice was impatient, clearly drunk. “Derek, my dad’s having a brain hemorrhage. He’s in surgery. Come to City General Hospital now! The doctor needs family to sign. I’m scared by myself…” My voice trembled. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. “Brain hemorrhage?” Derek paused, then sneered. “Mara, if you’re going to make up excuses, at least make them believable. You’d even curse your own father just to trick me into coming back?” “I’m not lying! It’s real! The doctor issued a critical condition notice!” I shouted into the phone. “Enough! Stop acting!” Derek cut me off impatiently. “Ivy just twisted her ankle. She’s in a lot of pain. I’m taking her to the hospital. Your dad’s chronic condition—just give him some medicine. Stop making a big deal out of nothing.” “Twisted ankle?” I asked in disbelief. “My father’s life is hanging by a thread, and you’re telling me about her twisted ankle?” “A twisted ankle is serious! She could have a fracture! She’s a dancer—her legs are her life!” Derek shouted back self-righteously. “Besides, your dad’s condition isn’t new. It could happen any time. Why now? I think you’re all conspiring to mess with me!” “Derek! Are you even human? That’s my father! Your father-in-law!” “Stop guilt-tripping me! I can’t leave right now! Ivy’s crying in pain. I need to stay with her for X-rays. Handle it yourself. Stop bothering me!” “Beep—” The call ended. I held my phone and looked down at my social media feed. Ivy had posted an update one minute ago. [Is this what it feels like to be cherished? I casually mentioned wanting to go clubbing, and he ditched the old hag at home to take me out~] The photo showed a club booth. Derek had his arm around her. Ivy’s leg was propped up on the coffee table, looking perfectly fine—not the slightest sign of injury. So in his heart, my father’s life wasn’t worth as much as his mistress saying “I want to go clubbing.” The surgical lights went out. The doctor emerged, removing his mask and shaking his head. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could. He was brought in too late…” My vision went black. My phone buzzed again. Derek’s voice message. “Okay, stop pretending. I transferred five thousand dollars. Take your dad to buy some supplements. I’m not coming home tonight. Ivy’s really shaken up. I need to stay with her. Be reasonable and stop calling me.” [Transfer: $5,000] Looking at that red transfer notification, I didn’t cry. Five thousand dollars. It bought out the last of my illusions about him.

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The first thing Liam did when he returned was pay five million dollars to make my life a living hell. At an exclusive gala, he pointed at me and declared that if I’d publicly kneel and polish his fiancée’s shoes, he’d forgive my past betrayal. Without a word, I knelt and used my sleeve to wipe the wine stains from her heels until they gleamed. The crowd laughed, mocking me for trading my dignity for money. Liam’s face twisted with rage. He kicked over a champagne tower beside us, sending shattered glass spraying across my skin. He gripped my chin. “Isabella, you’re utterly pathetic. Doesn’t any of this hurt?” I looked at his furious face and smiled.”Liam, for the right price, a little pain means nothing.” He didn’t know. A tumor in my brain was pressing on my central nervous system. Three months ago, I had completely lost the ability to feel pain. It wasn’t that I wasn’t hurting. I was dying. Isabella POV They dragged me out of the underground fight club like a dead dog. The few crumpled bills in my hand were soaked through with blood. That punch had landed square on my eye socket. It blurred half my vision, but I didn’t make a sound. The man who beat me cursed me, saying I was like a senseless punching bag, giving him no satisfaction at all. I found it pretty boring too. The moment I tucked the money into my pocket, two bodyguards in black suits seized my arms. They eyed my cheap tank top and the mud-and-blood-stained pants with disgust before shoving me into a luxury car-a model I wouldn’t have recognized. The car pulled up at the entrance of the city’s most opulent hotel. I was dragged, practically hauled, into the ballroom. The heating was on full blast, making my swollen eye throb even more. I struggled to keep my eyes open, trying to make out the man sitting in the center. Liam. Three years had passed. He’d become an even bigger deal. In a tailored suit, he swirled a glass of red wine, one arm draped around a woman in white. I recognized the woman. It’s Maya. Three years ago, when Liam nearly died in that car accident, she was supposedly the one who pulled him back from the brink. Now, she was the envied fiancée of a billionaire, celebrated in this elite social circle. And I? I was the public disgrace, universally despised, who had supposedly run off with Liam’s life savings and sold company secrets to his rival. The entire room fell silent. All eyes flickered between Liam and me, anticipating the show. Liam tapped his wine glass on the table. The sound wasn’t loud, but in the quiet hall, it resonated clearly. “Isabella.” He spoke my name as if calling a dog. I tried to force a smile, but my swollen face probably made it look more like a grimace. “Liam, long time no see.” Liam ignored my greeting. He pulled a checkbook from his jacket, scribbled a string of numbers, then tore out the check and tossed it lightly onto the floor. The thin slip of paper fluttered down, landing beside his gleaming leather shoes. “Five million.” He leaned back on the sofa, his eyes cold. “Drop the worthless pretense of dignity. Polish Maya’s shoes clean, and that money is yours.” A collective gasp rippled through the room. Five million. The price for the former ‘It Girl’ of the social scene to kneel. It was utterly humiliating. Maya shifted in his embrace, her voice sweet and cooing. “Liam, please, don’t. Isabella is, after all…” “What is she?” Liam cut her off, his eyes fixed on me, a hatred I couldn’t fathom churning within them. “She’d do anything for money, wouldn’t she, Isabella? Even eat dirt if I told her to?” I stared at the check. Five million. Enough to buy my mother the best burial plot, enough to pay off a mountain of predatory loans, enough for a stockpile of expensive targeted drugs, so I could face my death with a semblance of peace. What was I still hesitating for? I walked over, bent my knees, and knelt heavily on the hard marble floor. Nothing. No pain at all. I heard the dull thud of my knees hitting the floor, but I felt only the mechanical movement. I extended my sleeve-it was from a fifteen-dollar T-shirt I’d bought at a street stall, the rough fabric perfect for cleaning shoes. I gently lifted Maya’s foot, meticulously polishing her silver high heels, which had only a faint speck of dust. Maya recoiled, startled, but I held her ankle firm. A terrifying silence hung in the ballroom, broken only by the soft rasp of fabric against leather. After cleaning her left foot, I looked up at Liam. “Liam, do I need to clean the right one too? Can I get extra?” Liam’s face visibly contorted. He had expected to see me enraged, humiliated, hysterical over my ruined dignity. But I wasn’t. I was a soulless money-making machine. “Isabella!” He suddenly erupted, kicking over the nearby champagne tower. A deafening crash. Dozens of champagne flutes shattered, sending glass shards flying. Many fragments embedded themselves in my neck and back. Golden champagne mixed with my blood, seeping down my collar. I glanced down. A rather large piece of glass was stuck in my arm, and blood flowed freely. But it only looked alarming. I didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. Liam rushed over, grabbing my chin with a force that felt like it could crush my bones. He glared at me, his eyes bloodshot. “Are you a walking corpse? Why didn’t you dodge? Doesn’t it hurt?” I was forced to tilt my head back, looking at his frantic expression. I remembered how, in the past, if I got a paper cut, I’d hold up my finger and cry to him for ages. He’d scold me for being delicate while gently blowing on the wound. Now, covered in blood, he was demanding to know why I wasn’t screaming in pain. I smiled, and blood trickled down my forehead into my mouth, coppery and sweet. “Liam, is this five million in cash or a bank transfer?” I didn’t answer his question. I only cared about the money. Liam’s hand abruptly released me, as if he had touched something vile. He straightened up, looking down at me, his eyes filled with utter disgust. “Isabella, you sicken me.” “I find myself quite disgusting too.” I slowly got up from the floor, picking up the check and carefully blowing off the champagne stains. “Thank you for the generous payment, Liam.”

Isabella POV Liam didn’t let me leave. He had his men shove me into a car and sped back to his sprawling hillside villa. This villa was the one we’d chosen together back when we were a couple. I’d said I loved stargazing, so he bought it here. Now, the house was unchanged, but the life we’d built was shattered, and this place had become my gilded cage. The moment we entered, he dragged me straight into the bathroom. I didn’t resist. I let him pull me along. Resistance was futile anyway. In my current physical condition, I couldn’t even fight off a child. He turned the shower on full blast, setting it to cold, and aimed it directly at me. It was late autumn, and the water was bone-chilling. My body instinctively began to tremble, my teeth chattering-a physiological reaction I couldn’t control. Yet, I still couldn’t feel that “bone-chilling cold.” I only knew my body temperature was dropping. Liam stood by, watching me huddle in the corner like a drowned rat, his eyes dark and menacing. “Isabella, when you ran off with my life savings, did you ever imagine this day?” I had. I had imagined he’d hate me, that he’d seek revenge. But I hadn’t imagined this revenge would feel so… painless. I wiped the water from my face, saying nothing. My silence enraged Liam. He walked over and violently ripped open the collar of my shirt. The glass shards that had been embedded in my clothes at the banquet now tumbled out with his movement; some were still stuck in my flesh. His yank tore the wounds open further, and blood mixed with the cold water flowed onto the floor. Crimson streaks snaked across the white tiles, a horrifying sight. Liam’s movements froze. He stared at a deep gash on my shoulder, a piece of glass still lodged within it. “Doesn’t it hurt?” He asked again, his voice carrying a subtle tremor. I followed his gaze. Oh, it was quite deep, the flesh was exposed. I raised my hand and, right in front of him, pulled out the glass shard. Blood gushed out even more. Liam’s pupils constricted sharply. “I’m used to it.” I tossed the bloody fragment into the drain, my voice as calm as if commenting on the rain. “When you’re desperate in places like that, you learn to handle things yourself.” Liam’s face instantly went ashen. I knew what he was thinking. He believed I had endured all sorts of hardships and suffering for money, that my body had grown numb. It was true. For three years, to pay off debts, I’d been a human punching bag, done hard labor on construction sites, and even participated in clinical trials. But the loss of my pain wasn’t something I’d trained myself into. It was a disease. “Isabella.” Liam gritted his teeth, each word forced out. “You did this to yourself, turned into this… ghost, all for money?” “Money is good, Liam,” I leaned against the cold tiled wall, looking at him. “Without it, Without it, you don’t get a life.” If I’d had money back then, I wouldn’t have sold the engagement ring you gave me. I wouldn’t have sent you to that safe house. I wouldn’t have had to make deals with desperate men. If I’d had money, I wouldn’t have gotten this disease and been unable to afford treatment, letting the tumors grow in my brain until now. Liam suddenly laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “Fine, you want money, right?” He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Tell Maya to move in.” He hung up, then looked at me, his eyes filled with malicious retaliation. “From today on, you’ll serve Maya here. The five million will be yours when I’m satisfied.” I paused, surprised. Maya? The woman who had usurped my act of saving his life? Liam’s current “cherished love”? Well, it was fine. I didn’t have many days left anyway. Seeing him “happy” before I died might bring some closure. “Alright,” I agreed readily. “As long as the money’s there, serving anyone is serving someone.” Liam looked at me, and the last spark in his eyes died completely. He turned and slammed the door shut. Only I remained in the bathroom, surrounded by blood and water. I looked down at the bleeding wound on my shoulder, pressing it with my hand. It felt soft, like pressing someone else’s flesh. It truly didn’t hurt at all. I sighed, pulling a bottle of pills with a water-damaged label from my pocket. I poured a few into my hand and swallowed them, not caring if the water was clean or not. These pills were expensive, two hundred each. If that five million had come through, I’d definitely buy a few boxes to stock up.

Isabella POV Maya’s arrival created quite a stir. A dozen servants lined up in two rows, and Liam personally went to greet her, carefully helping her out of the car as if she were a fragile porcelain doll. I stood in the corner, wearing an oversized uniform, holding a broom. Maya spotted me the moment she stepped out of the car. Her smile faltered, then morphed into a look of surprise and feigned concern. “Isabella? Why are you dressed like that?” She walked over, reaching out to take my hand. “How can they make you do such menial labor? Liam, really…” I took a step back, avoiding her touch. “Ms. Maya, I’m an employee here now. I’ll get docked pay if I break the rules.” Maya’s hand hung awkwardly in the air, a flicker of malice in her eyes, quickly masked. She turned and hugged Liam’s arm, whining, “Liam, Isabella never had to do hard work before. How can you be so cruel?” Liam gave me a cold glance. “She brought this upon herself, insisting on earning this money.” Maya sighed, feigning helplessness. “Well, alright. I just brought an antique art piece Liam gave me before, and I haven’t found a place for it yet. Isabella, could you help me move it to the study upstairs?” She pointed to a half-person-high, large box beside her. I recognized the artwork. It was a crystal sculpture Liam had bought for thirty million dollars at an auction as a birthday gift for me. Back then, I’d said it was fragile and I didn’t want to accept it. He’d said, “If it breaks, it breaks. As long as you’re happy, even hearing it shatter is fine.” Now, it belonged to Maya. “Okay.” I put down the broom and walked over to carry the box. The box was heavy. In the past, I wouldn’t have thought twice about this weight. But now, the tumor in my brain was pressing on my optic nerve, and my vision was narrowing, like looking through a tunnel. Only a small central area remained clear; the edges were consumed by black spots. And my body was extremely weak from long-term medication and chemotherapy. I gritted my teeth, lifted the box, and slowly made my way up the stairs. Halfway up, my vision suddenly went dark. It was like someone had abruptly switched off the lights; the entire world plunged into darkness. My foot missed a step. In that moment of losing balance, I instinctively tried to protect the sculpture. Not because it was a gift from Liam, but because it was so expensive; even selling myself wouldn’t cover the cost. Both I and the box tumbled down the stairs. A series of sharp, shattering sounds. Thirty million, gone in a single crash. I lay on the floor, taking a while to recover. My vision was still mostly black, but I felt something piercing into my palm. A viscous liquid seeped out. “My sculpture!” Maya shrieked, running over. Seeing the shattered pieces everywhere, her tears flowed on command. “Liam! This was our token of love! Was she trying to do this on purpose?!” Liam strode over. He first helped Maya up, checking her from head to toe. “Are you hurt?” “I’m fine, but the sculpture…” Maya cried pitifully. Liam then turned to look at me. I was sitting on the floor, my vision slowly returning a little. I saw my palm was covered in crystal fragments, blood flowing freely over my hand. “Isabella!” Liam roared, “Did you do that on purpose?” I looked down at my palm, not meeting his gaze. “My hand slipped.” I said blandly. “Slipped?” Liam sneered. “Your hands, which used to play the piano, can’t even hold a simple object now? I think you just can’t stand to see Maya happy!” “These hands, once capable of playing the piano, are useless now.” I didn’t want to explain that my vision was blurry, nor that I’d felt a wave of dizziness. I extended my other hand and, right in front of them, pulled out the largest shard embedded in my palm. Blood splattered onto the floor. Liam’s eye twitched. I didn’t utter a sound, not even a change in expression. It was like pulling out a splinter. Tossing the fragment onto the floor, I pushed myself up, using my hands to brace against the marble. My legs felt a bit weak, but I stood straight. “Broken property needs to be compensated, right?” I looked at Liam’s blurred face. “Deduct it from the five million. If it’s not enough, I can polish Ms. Maya’s shoes a few more times.” Maya, hiding in Liam’s arms, looked at me as if I were insane. Liam stared intently at my still-dripping hand, his chest rising and falling violently. “Get out.” He pointed to the door. “Go get that wrapped up. Don’t bleed everywhere; it’s disgusting.” I nodded and turned, walking towards the staff quarters. Behind me, I heard Maya’s sobs and Liam’s low murmurs of comfort. I looked down at my hand. My palm was a mess of torn flesh and glass shards. In the past, I would have been crying from the pain. It was truly good now. This illness, though deadly, had become my shield in moments like these, allowing me to maintain my last shred of dignity.

Isabella POV Maybe the fall earlier that day hadn’t been misery enough. Liam woke me at two in the morning. His stomach hurt, he said. He wanted steak. Back when we were together, I’d been a princess who never stepped into a kitchen. But for him, I learned to pan-sear a steak. His stomach was sensitive, so I hunted for new recipes daily, tweaking and testing. He’d told me it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. I pulled on a robe and walked into the kitchen. I pulled on a robe and walked into the kitchen. My sense of taste had started leaving me a month ago. Now everything tasted like cardboard to me. I could no longer tell salt from sweet. I had to rely on memory for the measurements. One spoon of salt. Two of black pepper. My hand shook, and I couldn’t see the markings clearly. I think I added too much. Well. It would have to do. An hour later, the steak was done. It looked decent enough. I carried the plate into the study. Liam sat there, smoking.  Smoking with a stomachache? Had to be some kind of death wish. When I entered, he crushed the cigarette and gestured to the desk. “Set it there.” I did, and turned to go. “Wait.” His voice stopped me. “You’ll eat with me.” I paused. “I’m not hungry.” “I said eat.” Liam cut a piece of meat, but instead of eating it himself, he held it out to me. “Taste it. See if it’s like you remember.” I stared at the steaming piece, my stomach knotting. But I dared not refuse. I opened my mouth and took it. Chewed twice. Nothing. No taste at all. It was tough and rubbery, like chewing on an eraser. “Is it good?” Liam’s eyes pinned me. “Delicious,” I lied. Liam let out a short, cold laugh. He cut a piece for himself and put it in his mouth. The next second, he spat it straight into the trash. “Isabella, are you mocking me?” He slammed the knife and fork down. “You call this delicious? It’s inedible! Are you trying to poison me?” My stomach dropped. Too much salt. I’d been right. “I’m sorry, Liam. It’s been a while, I’m a bit out of practice.” “Out of practice?” He rose, crowding into my space. “I think you’d prefer me dead.” He picked up the whole plate. “Since you find it so ‘delicious,’ you finish it.” He thrust the plate at me. “Every last bite. Don’t you dare waste it.” I looked at the meat on the plate. If I ate all that, even without a sense of taste, my stomach would be ruined. But I looked into Liam’s venomous eyes and knew that if I didn’t eat, this night wouldn’t end. “Okay.” I took the plate. Without a knife and fork, I ate it directly with my hands. The scorching hot juices dripped onto my fingers. I watched my skin rapidly redden, but I felt no heat. I grabbed a piece of meat and shoved it into my mouth, swallowing it before I’d even chewed it properly. Then came the second piece, and the third. It felt like something was blocking my throat. My esophagus might have been burned, but I continued to mechanically force the meat into my mouth. Liam stood by, watching. At first, he had watched with a theatrical air, wanting to see me beg, to see me humiliated. But he hadn’t expected me to be so desperate. I kept eating, my face expressionless, as if completing a task. My lips were slick with grease, my cheeks puffed out. I even choked until my eyes rolled back, but I kept stuffing more in. “That’s enough!” Liam suddenly swung his arm, knocking the plate from my hands. The plate shattered, and steak scattered across the floor. “Isabella, are you insane?” He looked at my reddened fingers and my greasy mouth, and for the first time, a hint of terror appeared in his eyes. “You don’t feel the burn? You don’t taste the salt? Are you a robot?” I swallowed the last bite of meat in my mouth and wiped my lips with my sleeve. “Liam told me to eat, so I ate.” I looked at him, my voice calm. “Even if it were poison, I’d eat it if it made you happy.” Liam took a step back. He looked as if my words had scalded him. “Get out.” He pointed to the door, his voice hoarse. “Go brush your teeth. Get that taste out of your mouth. It’s disgusting.” I nodded and turned to leave. The moment I closed the door, I heard the sound of glass smashing against the wall inside. I leaned against the wall outside, clutching my stomach. It began to cramp, churning violently. Though I couldn’t feel the specific pain, the nausea, like my insides were being squeezed, was real. I rushed into the restroom, hugging the toilet, and retched violently. Everything I’d eaten came back up, mixed with streaks of blood. After I finished, I looked at myself in the mirror. My face was ghostly pale, my lips raw with burn blisters. So ugly. Isabella, you used to be so fond of beauty. How did you end up like this?

Isabella POV The next day, I was secretly taking my medication in the corner of my room. They were targeted therapy drugs specifically to inhibit tumor growth, with severe side effects, but they prolonged my life. Just as I poured a few pills into my palm, the door was kicked open. Liam strode in, his eyes immediately spotting the pills in my hand. “What are you hiding?” He grabbed my wrist with surprising force. I tried to pull my hand back, but he pried my fingers open. A few white pills rolled onto the floor. He picked up the pill bottle; I had already torn off the label. “What is this?” He held up the bottle, demanding. “Party drugs? Or some new designer drug?” My heart skipped a beat. I absolutely couldn’t let him know I was sick. If he knew I was dying, given his personality, he wouldn’t just refuse to let me off the hook; he’d think I was trying to gain sympathy. He might even cut off my medication, leaving me to a fate worse than death. Besides, I hadn’t yet uncovered the true mastermind who still wanted to harm him. I had to stay alive to finish this last piece of business. “Speak!” Liam slammed the pill bottle onto the table. I took a deep breath and forced a flippant smile. “Liam, you’re overthinking it. This isn’t some drug.” I bent down, picked up the pills from the floor, and blew off the dust. “These are birth control pills.” Liam froze. “Birth control pills?” “That’s right,” I said, feigning indifference. “In my line of work, there are so many clients. What if I got pregnant? That would be such a hassle. Abortions cost money and hurt the body, so it’s safer to take pills every day.” Liam’s face instantly turned ashen. “So many clients?” He gritted his teeth, repeating the words. “Isabella, how many men have you slept with?” “Too many to count.” I shrugged. “Anyone, as long as the money’s right. You know how I am, I just love money.” “Have you no shame?!” Liam suddenly exploded in rage, pinning me against the wall. He stared intensely into my eyes, as if trying to find any hint of a lie. But I was too good an actress. These three years of my life had already forged a thick mask on my face. “Liam, don’t worry.” I kept smiling, though the smile didn’t reach my eyes. “I’m very professional. I would never get pregnant with a client’s child, and certainly not with yours. I’m dirty, I know my place.” “Shut up!” Liam looked as if something had stung him, and he suddenly recoiled from me. He looked at me with an expression of contempt and disgust. “Don’t let me see you taking those things again.” He disgustedly wiped his hand, as if I were something repulsive. “In this house, do nothing but your chores. And go get a full physical exam. Don’t contaminate Maya with some disease.” “Of course, Liam.” I agreed obediently. “Will the medical expenses be reimbursed?” Liam’s face was contorted with rage as he turned and kicked the door open, storming out. Watching his retreating back, I let out a shaky breath. A sudden warmth flooded my nostrils. I touched it, and my hand came away covered in blood. I quickly tilted my head back, stuffing tissues into my nose. The nosebleeds were getting more frequent. This medication, it seemed, needed a higher dosage. Otherwise, I’d die before that five million ever materialized.

Isabella POV Perhaps retribution came too quickly. I fainted while cleaning the villa. That day, I was wiping the crystal chandelier on the second floor, perched on a ladder, when a sudden wave of vertigo washed over me. This time, it wasn’t the black spots of tunnel vision, but a complete sense of disorientation. I fell from the ladder, hitting the back of my head on the floor, and lost consciousness. When I woke again, I was in a hospital. White ceilings, the pungent smell of disinfectant. I shot upright, tearing the IV from my arm, ready to flee. I couldn’t stay in the hospital. What if Liam checked my medical records…? “Stay put!” A stern voice rang out from the doorway. I turned and saw a man in a white coat walk in. Carter. My attending physician, and my college classmate. For these three years, he had secretly gotten me medication and helped me conceal my illness. “Are you trying to die?” Carter slammed the patient chart onto the bedside table. “With intracranial pressure this high, you dare run around? Do you want to be brain dead by tomorrow?” “Where’s Liam?” I asked nervously. “He’s outside paying the bill.” Carter’s face was grim. “Isabella, I can’t help you anymore. I have to tell him about your condition. You need surgery immediately!” “No!” I grabbed his sleeve. “Carter, please, don’t tell him! If I tell him now, everything I’ve done will be for nothing! He’ll think I’m using my death to blackmail him. You know what he’s like, he won’t believe it!” “But you’ll die!” Carter’s eyes were red with urgency. “So be it,” I released his sleeve and leaned back against the headboard. “I’ve lived long enough anyway. I just need that five million to buy my mother a good burial plot, pay off my debts, and then I can leave cleanly.” The doorknob turned. Liam was about to come in. I steeled myself; there was no time to hesitate. I lunged into Carter’s arms, wrapping my hands around his neck, and cried out loudly, “Take me away! Carter, take me away! I don’t want to be with him! I want to elope with you!” The door opened. Liam stood in the doorway, holding the payment slip. He saw Carter and me embracing, and his entire body froze. Then, his handsome face instantly contorted. “Isabella!” He rushed forward, tearing Carter and me apart. “What did you just say? Elope?” He pointed at Carter, then at me. “Is this the man you’ve been keeping? The gigolo you spent my life savings on?” Carter stumbled backward from the shove, about to explain. “Liam, actually, Isabella, she…” I cried, cutting him off. “Yes, I love him! I don’t love you, Liam! I took your money so I could run away with him. Are you happy now?!” As I shouted, I desperately motioned to him with my eyes, begging him to stay silent. Carter saw the frantic plea in my gaze. His lips parted, but in the end, he swallowed the truth. Liam let out a cold, humorless laugh. He nodded, his eyes looking at us as if we were already dead. “Good. Perfect.” He turned and drove his foot into Carter’s stomach. A pained grunt escaped Carter as he crumpled to the floor. “You think you can run? Not a chance.” Liam grabbed my hair, forcing me to look at him. “Isabella, since you love him so much, I’ll show you how I ruin him.” “From today on, Carter, you can forget about a career in medicine. Any hospital that dares to hire you, I’ll buy it.” With that, he ignored my hospital gown and dragged me out of the ward like a rag doll. I looked back and saw Carter clutching his stomach, his eyes filled with sorrow and helpless resignation. I’m sorry, Carter. To keep this secret, I had to drag you down with me.

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When Jackson put the only life jacket on Phoebe, he didn’t even look at me. Thomas, the boy I’d loved and cared for over five years, was clinging to Phoebe’s leg, screaming that I was a bad woman. The seawater rose past my ankles, icy and sharp. The pregnancy test I’d been clutching was already ruined by the saltwater. Ten minutes ago, I had thought this was just an ordinary yacht accident. Then Jackson chose Phoebe. Then Thomas bit my hand, forcing me to let go of the life preserver. I realized then that this marriage had been a fraud from the very beginning. I was nothing more than a full-time nanny Jackson had hired to fill in while Phoebe was abroad recovering. And I had seven days left before I completely disappeared from this world. Scarlett POV The ambulance was already waiting when the yacht docked. Paramedics swarmed the pier, lifting a blanket-wrapped, shivering Phoebe onto a stretcher. Jackson followed behind, his brow furrowed tight. The hand that wore his wedding ring was now clamped around Phoebe’s wrist. Thomas toddled beside the stretcher on his short legs, his voice raw from screaming, “Phoebe, don’t die.” And I stood alone on the deck. The breeze had dried my wet clothes, making the fabric stiff and rough against my skin. My abdomen throbbed with a dull pain-right where Thomas had kicked me hard earlier. Before I could make my way down the spiral stairs, Jackson suddenly turned around. Through the crowd and the flashing emergency lights, his gaze landed on me. That look was cold, impatient. “Scarlett, stop dawdling.” He called my name, his voice the same cold tone he used for incompetent subordinates. “Phoebe’s in shock. Go home and make her hot chocolate, then bring it to the hospital.” I wanted to say I’d fallen into the water too. I wanted to say my stomach hurt. I wanted to say the seawater-ruined paper had read “six weeks pregnant.” The words reached my lips, but all I tasted was blood. I swallowed it down. “Okay.” I heard my own calm voice. Jackson seemed satisfied with my compliance and turned to climb into the ambulance. The door slammed shut with a bang, cutting off all lines of sight. The crowd at the pier gradually dispersed. I took a cab back to the Beverly Hills mansion alone. When I walked through the door, the housekeeper Anna was pouring hot ginger tea into a thermos. Seeing me come in, disheveled and dripping, she froze, her eyes turning evasive. “Ma’am… Mr. Sterling called. He said to send hot drinks to Miss Phoebe. He didn’t mention you were…” She didn’t finish, but I understood. In this house, Jackson’s orders were the only law. I ignored her awkwardness and went straight upstairs. Passing by the nursery, toys were still scattered all over the floor. Thomas’s favorite superhero figure lay alone on the carpet, one arm broken off. That was a limited edition I’d stood in line all night to buy for him six months ago. This morning before we left, Thomas had thrown a massive tantrum because I’d accidentally knocked over that figure. He’d pointed at my nose and cursed: “I knew you weren’t my real mom! If it was Auntie Phoebe, she would never break my stuff!” At the time, I’d dismissed it as childish nonsense. Now it seemed children’s instincts were often the most accurate. He’d known all along who the outsider in this family really was. I returned to the master bedroom and locked the door. In the bathroom mirror, a pale face stared back at me. There was a bruise on my temple from hitting the railing when I fell into the water. I touched it. No sensation. I stripped off the wet clothes reeking of ocean and balled them up, throwing them directly into the trash. Along with the pulpy mess in my pocket that used to be paper. Hot water cascaded over my body, bringing sharp little pinpricks of pain. I looked down at my flat abdomen. A tiny life had once been growing there. Just a few hours ago, I’d been so happy, planning to tell Jackson the good news. Now, it was all gone. That kick had been vicious. The ice-cold seawater mingled with the blood trickling down my thighs, winding across the white tiles before spiraling into the dark drain. I didn’t cry. I just felt tired. After showering, my phone screen was lit up. A text from Jackson. Just one brief line: Did you send the soup? Phoebe’s still shaking. Not one word asking if I was hurt. Not one word asking how hard that kick had been. I stared at the screen for a long time until my eyes started to ache. Then I replied: “On its way.” After sending that message, I pulled open the bottom drawer of my nightstand. Inside was a divorce agreement I’d drafted long ago, along with a one-way ticket to Switzerland. Originally I’d planned to burn these. Since I was pregnant, I’d wanted to give this marriage one more chance. But now, that wasn’t necessary. I pulled out the ticket, my fingertips tracing the date printed on it. Departure in seven days. That was Jackson’s birthday, and also the final deadline I’d set for myself. I picked up a pen and drew a heavy circle on the calendar. The countdown had begun.

Scarlett POV The next morning, I was woken by noise from downstairs. Jackson was back. And he’d brought Phoebe and Thomas with him. I stood at the top of the stairs, watching the harmonious scene in the living room. Phoebe wore Jackson’s shirt, the oversized hem covering her thighs, making her look small and delicate. She sat on the sofa holding a cup of hot milk. Thomas nestled in her arms, mouth open wide waiting for her to feed him. Jackson sat beside them cutting fruit, his knife skills clumsy, the peel breaking several times. But he was patient. You should know, in the past when I wanted fruit, he’d only frown and say: “If you want it, cut it yourself. I’m not your servant.” “Scarlett’s awake?” Phoebe noticed me first. She tried to stand, but Jackson pressed her shoulder down. “Sit still. The doctor said you’re weak, don’t move around.” Jackson’s voice was heavy. When he turned to look at me, it instantly went cold. “Since you’re up, come down and cook. Anna took the day off, and Phoebe wants your seafood chowder.” My fingers clenched the banister, knuckles bleaching white. Seafood chowder. The whole city knew Phoebe was allergic to seafood. Was this a test? A deliberate humiliation? Or had he simply forgotten, in the space between her and me, which one of us carried the allergy? “She’s allergic to seafood,” I said flatly. Jackson’s hand cutting fruit paused. The blade sliced his thumb. A bead of blood welled up. Phoebe cried out, immediately grabbing his hand and putting it in her mouth. Jackson didn’t push her away. Instead, he looked at her with tender eyes. “Phoebe’s still so thoughtful.” Then he looked up at me, his gaze carrying reproach. “If you got it wrong, just admit it. Don’t make excuses. I never saw your memory being this bad before.” Before? How had I lived before? Every meal had to accommodate everyone’s tastes. Jackson didn’t eat garlic, Thomas didn’t eat carrots or bell peppers. If even a trace of something they disliked appeared in a dish, the entire table of food would be dumped straight into the trash. I remembered everyone’s preferences, but no one remembered I didn’t eat cilantro. “Maybe I did get it wrong.” I didn’t argue, just turned and walked into the kitchen. Since he wanted his sweetheart to have seafood soup, I’d make it. Processing the lobster, chopping onions, simmering the broth. Every step I executed methodically. The kitchen’s glass door wasn’t fully closed. Fragments of conversation from the living room drifted in. “Jackson, is Scarlett angry?” That was Phoebe’s voice, tinged with grievance. “Maybe I should move out. I’m not as clingy as Thomas, it’s fine.” “This is my house. You can stay as long as you want.” Jackson’s voice was iron. “Don’t worry about her. With that temper, she’ll be fine in a couple of days.” “But.-” “No buts. Thomas needs you too. Look at him this morning. When has he ever asked for Scarlett?” Thomas’s high voice piped up. “I don’t want that bad lady! I want Phoebe to be my mommy!” Crash. I turned the faucet to full blast. Water rushed over the cold porcelain bowl, drowning out those piercing voices. I looked down at the sink. A expressionless face reflected back at me. In the past, hearing words like these would hurt. I’d hide under the covers and cry all night. I’d reflect on whether I wasn’t doing enough, whether I wasn’t gentle enough, considerate enough. But now, my heart felt nothing. Like watching a terrible reality show. Just absurd. Half an hour later, I carried the steaming pot of soup out of the kitchen. Jackson was feeding Phoebe freshly cut apple pieces. Seeing me emerge, he didn’t even lift an eyelid. “Leave it there. Let it cool before serving.” I set the soup on the dining table without a word, then turned to go upstairs. “Stop.” Jackson called out. He set down the apple, pulled out a tissue to wipe his hands, his tone casual: “Clear out your studio. Phoebe needs it for yoga.” My footsteps stopped. That studio was my only private space in this house. It held my unfinished artwork, and the easel my mother had left me. That was my bottom line. “There’s a gym downstairs,” I said. “The gym doesn’t have good lighting.” Jackson frowned. “I told you to clear it out, so clear it out. Why all the back talk? Those worthless paintings don’t sell for much anyway. They’re just taking up space.” Worthless paintings. Those were my heart and soul. Proof that I’d once dreamed of becoming an artist. In this billionaire’s eyes, they were just garbage taking up room. “Understood.” I heard myself say. No argument, no hysterics. Jackson seemed somewhat surprised by my compliance, but he didn’t give it much thought, just waved his hand dismissing me. I returned to my room and pulled out a large black trash bag. I walked into the studio. The painting I’d worked on for three months, “Deep Sea,” stood quietly on the easel. In the image, a drowning woman reached upward, trying to grasp that beam of light filtering down. I picked up the utility knife. The sharp blade sliced through canvas, making a harsh tearing sound. Once, twice, three times. The complete image shattered into pieces. I stuffed the fragments into the trash bag, along with the paints, brushes, and the easel my mother had left behind. It was all cleared out in under ten minutes. The once-full room turned hollow and bare. Only the faint, sharp smell of turpentine still hung in the air. Nothing of Scarlett remained here now. And nothing of her remained in this house.

Scarlett POV I was jolted awake by urgent pounding on my door. Opening it, Thomas stood there holding his broken superhero toy, his face fierce. “Bad woman, who told you to touch my Legos!” He hurled the figure viciously at my legs. The hard plastic edges struck my kneecap, pain drilling deep. I looked down at the stepson at my feet. Five years old, looking exactly like Jackson-like they’d been cut from the same mold. The eyebrows, the nose, even that domineering expression were identical. I still remembered when he was first brought home, all soft and cuddly. Jackson found him too noisy and refused to hold him. It was me who’d paced the room night after night with him in my arms, humming lullabies until he fell asleep. His first word of “mama,” his first steps, his first time using a spoon. Every moment, I’d been there with him. But from the day Phoebe returned to the country, everything changed. It only took one piece of candy from Phoebe to earn a sweet “Thank you!” Yet the full meals I’d spent hours preparing would only ever get a “This is disgusting.” “I didn’t touch your Legos.” I bent down, picked up the broken figure, and held it out to him. “You broke this yourself yesterday.” “You’re lying!” Thomas slapped my hand away. “Auntie Phoebe said you broke it ’cause you were jealous her gift was better! You’re a wicked witch!” Wicked witch. Since when did a five-year-old talk like that? I didn’t need to guess who’d put those words in his mouth. I looked at his flushed little face and suddenly felt exhausted. Too tired even to explain. “Think whatever you want.” I stepped around him, heading downstairs to get water. Thomas clearly hadn’t expected this reaction from me. In the past, whenever he threw a tantrum, I’d scramble to appease him, agreeing to all his unreasonable demands. Being ignored made him instantly lose control. He rushed at me and bit down hard on my calf. His sharp baby teeth pierced through the fabric and into flesh. I gasped in pain and instinctively pushed him. It wasn’t even that hard. But Thomas threw himself backward, landing on his bottom, then let out an ear-splitting wail. “Wahhh-Daddy! The bad woman hit me!” The laughter downstairs cut off abruptly. Urgent footsteps approached. Jackson charged up the stairs, saw his son sitting on the floor crying, and me standing there watching coldly. His expression darkened instantly. “Scarlett, what are you doing?” He strode over and shoved me aside, scooping Thomas into his arms. The force was considerable. I stumbled backward several steps, my lower back slamming into the stair railing. The pain made it hard to straighten up. “She pushed me! She tried to push me down the stairs!” Thomas burrowed into Jackson’s embrace, pointing at me accusingly, crying his heart out. “I didn’t.” I steadied myself against the railing and looked at this father and son. “You didn’t?” Jackson laughed coldly, his gaze landing on me full of disgust. “Thomas is only five. Would he lie? Scarlett, I never realized how vicious you were-you can’t even tolerate a child?” Vicious. Can’t tolerate. So that’s what I was in his mind. Phoebe rushed upstairs then, looking anxious as she checked on Thomas. “Did you get hurt? Let me see.” She wiped Thomas’s tears while turning to look at me, her eyes full of reproach: “Scarlett, kids don’t know better. You could just talk to him nicely. How could you get physical? What if he’d gotten seriously hurt…” “Enough.” Jackson cut her off, standing up with Thomas in his arms. He looked down at me from his height, like looking at a criminal. “Apologize to Thomas.” I froze. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Why should I apologize?” “Do I need to say it twice?” Jackson’s voice suppressed fury. “Apologize.” I looked into those cold eyes. Five years of marriage, and in his eyes it apparently couldn’t compare to one word from Phoebe’s mouth, one lie from Thomas. I suddenly smiled. A light laugh. “Fine.” I nodded, looking at Thomas’s face, twisted slightly with smugness. “I’m sorry.” As those words left my mouth, I felt something inside me break completely. It was the last thread connecting me to this family. Thomas huffed and turned his head away, ignoring me. Jackson’s expression eased slightly, though it remained unpleasant. “Stay out of Thomas’s sight for the next few days. Save him the annoyance.” With that, he carried his son downstairs with Phoebe. A family of three. What a harmonious picture their backs made. I stood there, watching them disappear around the staircase. The wound on my knee was still bleeding, the bite mark on my calf already bruising purple. But I felt no pain at all. I returned to my room and pulled the suitcase out from under the bed. I opened the closet. Most of the clothes inside were black, white, and gray-the style Jackson preferred. He said bright colors made me look frivolous, that only muted tones suited the wife of a billionaire. I didn’t take any of them. I only took a few pieces I’d bought before marriage, and that photo album hidden deepest in the closet. I opened the album. The first photo was our wedding picture. In it, Jackson had his face set, brow slightly furrowed, looking quite unwilling. And I smiled like an idiot, my eyes full of light. That was me five years ago. Back then I believed that if I just tried hard enough, loved him enough, this stone would eventually warm up. Only now did I understand. A stone can’t be warmed. Especially when that stone’s heart already belonged to someone else. I picked up scissors. Following the photo’s center line, snip. That woman smiling with happiness and that cold man were completely separated. I threw Jackson’s half of the photo into the trash. Only keeping the version of myself whose eyes held light. Though that light had now gone out. But I would relight it. Somewhere without Jackson.

Scarlett POV It was late at night by the time I finished packing. The suitcase was light, barely half full. It turned out that after five years of living here, I had so little I could take with me. I pushed the suitcase to the back of the walk-in closet and covered it with some old coats. Just as I straightened up, the bedroom door opened. Jackson walked in. He’d just showered, carrying the scent of body wash mixed with a faint tobacco smell. That was the brand of cigarettes Phoebe had given him. He didn’t even glance at me, walking straight to the bed and sitting down, drying his hair while saying: “There’s a charity gala tomorrow night. You’re coming with me.” In the past, hearing such a request would have made me too excited to sleep. Because it meant he acknowledged my status. But now, I only felt the irony. “Isn’t Phoebe back?” I walked to the vanity and picked up face cream, applying it. “She’d be more suitable for that kind of occasion than me.” Jackson’s hand stopped mid-motion. He looked at me through the mirror, his brow furrowing again. “Scarlett, are you ever going to stop?” He impatiently threw the towel on the bed, his tone dismissive: “Phoebe’s body hasn’t recovered. She can’t handle the noise of that kind of event. You’re my wife. This is your responsibility.” Responsibility. So that’s why I existed. Human shield, tool, nanny. Whatever it was, definitely not beloved. “I’m not going.” I capped the face cream and turned to look at him. “I don’t feel well.” Jackson apparently hadn’t expected me to refuse. This was probably the first time since marrying him that I’d said “no.” He stood up, strode over to me, and grabbed my chin. The grip was hard, painfully tight. “Scarlett, don’t think I don’t know what game you’re playing.” His gaze was sharp as a knife, as if trying to see through to my bones. “Playing hard to get doesn’t work on me. You weren’t this dramatic before. What, now that Phoebe’s back, feeling insecure?” Insecure? I couldn’t help but laugh. If this were seven days ago, maybe I would have been. But now, facing a marriage on its deathbed, where was there room for insecurity? “Jackson.” I looked directly into his eyes, my tone so calm it surprised even me. “I genuinely don’t feel well. And also, I’m tired.” Jackson stared at me for several seconds. As if trying to find traces of lies on my face. But he failed. My eyes held no emotion-no jealousy, no anger, just dead-water calm. This calm made him feel strange, even inexplicably irritated. He released his grip and snorted coldly. “Suit yourself.” With that, he turned to leave. Reaching the door, he stopped. “Since you’re not going, don’t regret it later. I’m taking Phoebe tomorrow. When the media writes whatever they want, don’t come crying to me.” This was a threat. He knew I cared about status, about maintaining the dignity of this marriage. Unfortunately, he’d miscalculated this time. “I won’t.” I looked at his back, saying softly, “As long as you’re happy.” Jackson’s figure stiffened. But he didn’t turn around, just slammed the door hard. BANG. The impact made the wall clock shudder. I looked at the closed door and let out a long breath. Actually, I hadn’t lied. I really didn’t feel well. The dragging pain in my abdomen hadn’t disappeared-it was getting stronger. I rummaged through a drawer for painkillers and dry-swallowed two pills. The bitter taste of the pills spread across my tongue. I lay in bed and turned off the light. In the darkness, my phone screen suddenly lit up. A bank transfer notification. Five million dollars. Followed by a message from Phoebe: Scarlett, thank you for clearing out the studio for me. This money is compensation for your paintings. Jackson asked me to transfer it to you-he said he couldn’t let you work for nothing. I looked at that long string of numbers. In Jackson’s eyes, my dreams and dignity were worth exactly this much. Or rather, it was hush money-a pittance to let Phoebe occupy my space guilt-free. I didn’t reply, didn’t return the money. I accepted it. Why not? This was what I deserved. Consider it my nanny wages for five years, emotional damage compensation. Besides, medical bills would be expensive later. I placed my phone face-down on the nightstand and closed my eyes. Six more days. Just endure a little longer. Just six more days, and I’d be completely free. As I drifted off to sleep, a commotion suddenly erupted downstairs. The sound of something breaking, accompanied by Phoebe’s scream. I rolled over and pulled the blanket over my head. Even if the house collapsed, it had nothing to do with me. That night, I had a dream. I dreamed I’d become a bird. Trapped in a gilded cage, I’d plucked out all my feathers trying to please my master. Finally, the master opened the cage. Not to set me free. But to put a more beautiful peacock inside. The featherless bird was casually tossed into the trash. Dying. When I woke, my pillow was soaked. Not with tears. With cold sweat.

Scarlett POV I don’t remember how I left the mansion. I only remember the sunlight outside was blinding, falling on my skin with no warmth at all. I took a cab to the downtown hospital. The obstetrics corridor was always filled with two completely different sounds. On one side, the robust cries of newborns and families unable to contain their joy; on the other, heart-wrenching sobs and deathly silence. I sat in the cold chair in the examination room, clutching my registration slip. “Scarlett?” The doctor was an older woman who pushed up her glasses, her gaze landing on my test results as her brow furrowed tight. “Your condition is dangerous. Incomplete miscarriage with retained tissue in the uterus, and signs of infection. We need to schedule surgery immediately to clear it out.” Surgery. I knew what that meant. Cold instruments probing into my body, scraping out that unformed blood clot bit by bit, along with all my hopes for the past. “I’m not having surgery.” I heard my own calm voice. “Just prescribe me strong painkillers and antibiotics.” The doctor’s head snapped up, staring at me like I was insane. “Do you have a death wish? The infection could spread and cause sepsis. You could go into shock at any time. And your current clotting function…” She paused, pointing at the abnormally low value on the lab report. “Have you been getting nosebleeds frequently, or unexplained bruising?” I instinctively tugged at my sleeve, covering the purple bruise on my wrist. Jackson had left that yesterday. “I know what I’m doing.” I stood up, and without waiting for the doctor to say more, walked out of the examination room. Only I knew this body was already broken. Beyond repair. Even if I fixed this, something else would be waiting. Rather than lying on an operating table kept alive by cold tubes, I’d rather walk through these final days with dignity. When I picked up my prescription, the TV mounted in the lobby was broadcasting entertainment news. “Billionaire Jackson Sterling attended a charity gala with a mysterious female companion, spending millions on a pink diamond necklace…” On screen, Jackson wore an impeccably tailored bespoke suit, his posture straight. Phoebe held his arm, wearing that dazzling pink diamond necklace around her neck, her smile radiantly happy. Reporters’ microphones were practically shoved in their faces. “Mr. Sterling, is this lady your newly wedded wife?” Jackson didn’t deny it. He just looked down at Phoebe, his gaze so tender it could melt. “She’s the most important person in my life.” Many people in the lobby were watching-some envious, some skeptical. I stood at the back of the crowd, holding a bag of painkillers, the bitter taste of bile rising in my mouth. The most important person. Then what was I? Five years of marriage. I’d been with him from nobody to corporate power player. To help him secure investments, I’d drunk myself to a bleeding ulcer and hospitalization. To care for his sick mother, I’d kept vigil at her bedside for three solid months, not even seeing my own mother one last time. In the end, I was just an invisible person who didn’t even deserve to have her name mentioned. I lowered my head, popped a pill in my mouth, and dry-swallowed it without water. The rough tablet scraped down my throat, bringing a burning pain. But the pain was good. At least it reminded me I was still alive.

Scarlett POV When I returned to the mansion, night had fallen completely. The living room blazed with light. Thomas lay on the carpet drawing, Phoebe sat beside him sharpening pencils, and Jackson reviewed documents.If you didn’t look at the large cardboard boxes piled in the corner, this would indeed seem like a warm family scene. Those were my things. My books, my tea set, even the coats I wore regularly. All carelessly stuffed into boxes, like a pile of garbage waiting to be disposed of. “What’s this about?” I changed my shoes and walked to the boxes. The housekeeper Anna was sealing them with packing tape. Seeing me return, her hand jerked, the tape making a harsh ripping sound. “Ma’am… Miss Phoebe said there was too much clutter in the house, it accumulates dust and it’s bad for Thomas’s respiratory system, so…” “I had Anna pack them up.” Phoebe set down her pencil and stood up, looking at me with innocent eyes. “Scarlett, don’t take it the wrong way. I noticed you hardly use these things anyway, they’re just taking up space. Plus, the doctor said Thomas has some allergic rhinitis, so the house needs to be kept clean.” Allergic rhinitis. I looked at one of the unsealed boxes. Inside was a copy of “The Little Prince,” its corners worn from being read so many times. That was the storybook I’d read to Thomas every night when he was three. Now it had become an allergen. “Throw it out.” Jackson didn’t even look up, turning a page of his document. “It’s useless anyway.” I stared at that man’s profile. Cold, matter-of-fact. As if what he was throwing away wasn’t my belongings, but me as a person. “Okay.” I bent down and picked up the box. It was heavy. Anna tried to help, but I dodged her. “I’ll do it myself.” I carried the box toward the door. Passing by Thomas, he suddenly looked up, holding up his drawing paper, his face full of pride as he shouted to Jackson: “Daddy, look! I drew our family!” Jackson set down his documents and took the paper, a smile tugging at his lips. “Not bad.” I instinctively glanced at it. There were three people in the drawing. A tall daddy, a beautiful mommy, and little Thomas in the middle holding their hands. That “mommy” wore a pink dress with a sparkling necklace. That was Phoebe’s outfit today. I wasn’t in the picture. The box in my arms suddenly felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, pressing until I couldn’t breathe. “Thomas is so talented.” Phoebe patted Thomas’s head and shot me a challenging look. “How about I take you to art classes?” “Yes! I love Phoebe the most!” Thomas wrapped his arms around her neck and planted a kiss on her cheek. I looked away and quickened my pace. I walked out the front door, all the way to the trash station in the residential area. I threw the box in heavily. Thud. Dust rose up. I stood in front of the dumpster, looking at “The Little Prince” with half its cover showing. Suddenly I felt ridiculous. Scarlett, look. The memories you treasured like precious gems were, in others’ eyes, just garbage that could be discarded at any moment. I pulled a lighter from my pocket. Click. The blue flame danced in the night wind. I lit one corner of the box. The fire spread quickly. The dry paper curled and blackened, turning to ash. The firelight reflected in my eyes, somewhat scorching. I don’t know when Jackson appeared behind me. “What are you doing?” His voice was heavy with surprise. He probably never expected me to be the one setting fire to my own things. After all, in the past, even a sticky note-as long as it was from him-I would carefully preserve. “Just as you said.” I watched the dancing flames without turning around. “Taking out the trash.” Jackson was silent for several seconds. “You’ve been acting strange, Scarlett.” He stepped closer, his eyes scanning me. “If this is some play for attention, you’re overdoing it.” A play? I turned to look at the man I had loved for seven years. In the firelight, his face was still unbearably handsome. But my heart, like the ashes between us, had gone cold. “Jackson.” I said his name softly. “If I died, would you be sad?” Jackson froze. Then he frowned, his face showing obvious disgust. “Don’t say such morbid things.” He tapped his cigarette, letting the ash fall. “Someone with your resilience doesn’t die easily.” I laughed. Right. I was like a weed. Trampled into mud, scorched by fire, yet as long as one root remained, I could cling on, miserably. But Jackson. This time, I would tear it out from the root. “That’s good then.” I said softly. “That’s good.” I’m done loving you, Jackson. You killed me with your own hands.

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Three days after I asked for a divorce, I spotted my husband Derek’s car parked by the roadside. My best friend Vivian was inside, her arms wrapped around my husband. When she saw me, she smirked and said: “Emma, you really need to stop fighting with Derek. He’s been asking me to drink with him every night lately. Last night, he even held me naked while we slept.” My husband quickly explained, “Don’t be ridiculous. If you hadn’t suddenly put on her nightgown, would I have mistaken you for her?” I smiled calmly and said to my best friend: “He has a sex addiction. If you two aren’t planning on having kids, make sure you use protection.” The moment I said that, Derek’s face turned dark. “What did you just say?” Derek asked, shocked. A flash of surprise crossed Vivian’s eyes, but then she burst out laughing. “Emma, I was just joking. I’ve explained this to you before—Derek and I are just friends.” Derek’s expression softened slightly as he spoke: “There were other people drinking with us. Besides, Vivian has been your friend for years. Even if you don’t trust me, you shouldn’t distrust her.” In the past, hearing something like this would have driven me crazy. But now, I felt nothing. The air fell silent. Then Vivian said: “Oh, and I only wore your nightgown because I forgot to bring a change of clothes when I came over last night. I couldn’t exactly sleep in your bed smelling like alcohol. Don’t overthink it.” Seeing that I remained unmoved, she suddenly smiled as if remembering something. “By the way, that lingerie of yours is pretty sexy. Can you send me the link? I want to buy one too.” I shook my head calmly. “He bought it. I don’t have the link.” Vivian froze for a moment, her smile stiffening. “Derek bought it? I never would have guessed. He looks so proper, but apparently he’s into this kind of naughty stuff. No wonder he said he didn’t like the boxers I got him for Valentine’s Day. Turns out they weren’t sexy enough for him.” I thought back to last Valentine’s Day, when my relationship with Derek had hit rock bottom. He had never been one to make the first move, but suddenly he asked me to dinner at my favorite restaurant. For once, I felt a glimmer of the warmth we used to share. Then Vivian showed up with a group of people. They wheeled in a hideous cake and started singing “Since U Been Gone.” Then Vivian pulled out matching his-and-hers underwear and laughed loudly: “This is my Valentine’s gift for you two.” And just like that, she left. I threw a glass of water in Derek’s face and slapped him. He pressed his lips together impatiently and said, “She’s always been like this. You know that. She’s your friend too—what’s there to argue about?” Yeah. Before I met Derek, I thought Vivian would be my best friend for life. We’d shared the same pair of jeans, sipped from the same smoothie with one straw, and whispered our deepest secrets to each other late at night. Until Derek came along, and I became the third wheel. I cried until I had no tears left and confronted him. “Derek, do you have any conscience at all? I cut ties with my own parents to marry you!” His response was cold: “You already had a bad relationship with your parents. That has nothing to do with me.” Those words were like a knife through my heart, and they finally woke me up. Thinking about all this, I said to Vivian: “He’s bought quite a few nightgowns like that. If you like them, take them all. I don’t want them anymore.” Hearing this, Derek suddenly sneered: “Emma, I thought you’d have calmed down by now. Turns out you’ve just switched to playing hard to get. Don’t you ever get tired of being so dramatic?”

The divorce was my idea. On our wedding anniversary, Vivian showed up uninvited with all our friends to “celebrate” with us. What was supposed to be my special day turned into a party for everyone else. During the celebration, Vivian got tipsy and admitted in front of everyone that she had fallen in love with a friend’s husband. Everyone exchanged knowing glances at Derek. He just smiled helplessly and said, “Cut it out.” I flipped the table right then and there. Derek handled the situation smoothly, sending everyone away. Afterward, I screamed at him that I wanted a divorce. He just stared at me coldly for a long time. Then he agreed. I moved out of his house. He didn’t try to stop me. He just smirked coldly: “Thirty days. That should be enough time for you to cool off.” My phone buzzed—my ride was almost here. “Whatever you say.” I looked at my phone, not wanting to argue with him. Derek’s face darkened, but finally he spoke: “Get in the car.” “It’s Professor Williams’s birthday party today. If she sees that we didn’t arrive together, she’ll start asking questions.” “No need. My ride’s already here.” The car had pulled up beside us. I walked straight over and got in. The moment I closed the door, Derek’s car sped past, grazing the exact spot where I had just been standing. The driver jumped in his seat and cursed. “What the hell is wrong with that guy!” “Are you okay?” I shook my head calmly, saying nothing. I just rolled down the window and let the breeze wash over my face. Suddenly, I remembered—even back when he was too poor to afford a scooter, Derek was like this. Even with no parents, his faded blue school uniform washed nearly white, his face full of world-weariness— Nothing could stop him from being the most dazzling presence in any crowd. Because before he became one of the city’s most successful young entrepreneurs, he was a painting prodigy who had amazed countless people. One year, he nearly missed an important competition because he couldn’t afford the entry fee. I gritted my teeth and paid it with my living expenses, then stretched what was left to feed us both. Until my mother found out. She humiliated him in front of everyone on the crowded school grounds. While I was still naively dreaming about his trophy— He turned in a blank exam paper. And never picked up a brush again. He started skipping class, staying out overnight, starting a business with people I’d never met. When I asked why, he only said he wanted to give me a better life. He was still gentle and caring, but sometimes it all felt like a long, silent cold war. Later, when I found out the truth, I had a huge fight with my family. Out of guilt, I threw myself into supporting his plans for the future. So when Vivian first promised to look after Derek for me outside of school, I was nothing but grateful. They started having more and more in common. At first, I stood between them, arms linked with both, smiling as I brought them closer. Later, they were the ones with their arms around each other, joking like old buddies, while I stood off to the side, smiling. Unable to get a word in. Until that New Year’s Eve, when Derek was depressed over a business setback. I gathered all his friends for a party. As the countdown began, I finally saw a hint of relief on his face. “…Three, two, one—zero!” The moment the fireworks exploded, my smiling eyes went wide with shock. Vivian had grabbed his tie and planted a loud kiss on his cheek. All the cheering and noise around me went silent. My racing heart stopped for a beat. Then came the endless fall. The woman met my gaze, winked playfully, then kissed my cheek too, completely unfazed. “Emma, Happy New Year!” My lips trembled. I didn’t know what to say. I suddenly remembered what a friend had joked about not long ago. “Emma, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but honestly, it looks like your boyfriend’s fallen in love again.” “I saw them at a bar the other day—they were practically making out.” … The rumors never stopped. I never believed them. But looking at Derek’s smile, I wasn’t sure anymore. I became suspicious and paranoid. I started showing up at their gatherings constantly, watching every little detail when they were together. I’d probe our other friends for their opinions while trying every trick I’d learned from relationship advice accounts to figure out if there was really something between them. Until one night, I got up and grabbed his phone to check all his social media. The moment I turned off the screen, I saw his eyes—wide open in the darkness. In my panic, I accidentally called Vivian. The call was answered almost instantly. Her sultry voice came through: “Derek? Did you really put a tracker in my brain or something? I was just lying here thinking about you and couldn’t sleep, and then you called. What’s up? Were you thinking about me too…” “Vivian,” I suddenly spoke. “Have you no shame?” Silence on the other end. Before I could say another word— Derek snatched the phone from my hand. “Emma, enough is enough. Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough these past few weeks?” Looking at Derek’s furious face, my eyes welled up. “I’m the one who’s embarrassed?” “One of you is my boyfriend, the other is my best friend—and you two are sneaking around behind my back. Isn’t that embarrassing?” A vein throbbed on Derek’s forehead. “Don’t you have any judgment of your own? I’ve been tolerating your nonsense because I thought you’d eventually see reason. But you’re still being completely unreasonable!” Vivian’s voice came through the phone, choked with tears. “Emma, I had no idea you thought of me this way. Maybe you don’t realize it, but this is just how we talk to each other. It’s all just jokes.” “I know our way of interacting bothers you, but Derek isn’t just your boyfriend—he’s my friend too. I can’t just distance myself from him because of you. I hope you can understand.” “If it really upsets you, I can post something online to clarify that there’s nothing between us.” Derek suddenly looked up at me. “Emma, if you’re going to keep making a scene, then let’s just break up.”

That was the first time Derek ever mentioned breaking up with me. And the last. That night, I booked a flight, turned off my phone, and disappeared for an entire month. Until one day, in the morning mist of the mountains, I saw him—red-eyed and disheveled. He had come for me, but he didn’t say a word. He just quietly set up a tent beside the little cabin I was renting and made it his home. Before dawn, he’d already chopped wood and fetched water for me. When I went out to sketch, he followed at a distance, never saying anything. … Everything he did was so unlike the proud man I knew. Eventually, even the other young travelers staying in the village started teasing me, telling me to forgive him. Forgive him? I wasn’t that naive. But when I saw Derek crying and begging for my forgiveness after getting drunk—everything changed. It was the first time I’d ever seen him cry. He swore he had no feelings for Vivian beyond friendship and promised to keep his distance from her. He apologized over and over, begging me not to really leave him. Rekindling a flame is easy. I forgave him quickly. And said yes when he proposed. But I never expected my parents’ opposition to be so fierce. They had already arranged a match for me—someone from a wealthy family. They refused to let me marry beneath my status. In the end, my father threw a document at me in a rage, threatening to disown me if I didn’t break off the engagement. I cried for a whole month. Then, out of spite, I signed it. We had a small wedding. We couldn’t afford much—even my dress was rented. My parents weren’t there. Derek noticed something was wrong. That night, he pinned me down and took me over and over without saying a word. Until the very end, when he bit my ear and whispered: “Emma, stop being foolish for my sake.” I didn’t understand back then. Later, I realized what he meant. He didn’t think it was worth it. I didn’t need to betray my parents for him. And he didn’t need my unwavering devotion that badly. “We’re here.” The driver’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. The car stopped outside the courtyard of a well-known private restaurant. As soon as I stepped out, I heard Professor Williams’s voice at the entrance. “Is Emma here?” I adjusted my expression and walked in with a smile. “Professor Williams, I’m sorry I’m late.” Professor Williams had silver hair at her temples but walked with steady steps—a sharp, spirited old woman. “I was just asking Derek why he didn’t bring you when he drove over.” I smiled and explained, “I’ve been staying on the east side of town lately. It was faster to take a cab.” Professor Williams didn’t say anything, just squeezed my hand a little tighter, then led me to sit beside her. Once everyone had exchanged greetings and given their gifts, the atmosphere grew lively. After a few drinks, someone joked: “Out of all of us, Derek’s got the best luck. He was the golden boy at school, made a fortune in business, and even married a sweet, wealthy heiress.” Someone pointed at Vivian and laughed: “And he’s got a beauty helping him with his career too!” Vivian laughed in response: “Derek’s my boss—basically my sugar daddy. Of course I help him!” “But really, Emma’s the luckiest one. She’s a real trophy wife now.” Others at the table chimed in agreement. I kept my head down and continued eating, saying nothing. Professor Williams set down her fork gently. “That’s not quite fair. Back in the day, Emma sold all her designer bags and worked three part-time jobs just to help Derek stay in school.” The room went silent. Someone laughed awkwardly to smooth things over: “You’re right, Professor. We didn’t know about all that. We misunderstood Emma.” But Vivian scoffed: “Well, if Derek hadn’t saved Emma back then, she wouldn’t even be here today.”

In the silence, Derek finally spoke up. “Alright, today is Professor Williams’s birthday. Let’s stop talking about me.” He raised his glass and invited everyone to toast. I took a quiet sip of wine, my mind drifting back to that summer when I first started school. Maybe it was because the car that dropped me off was too flashy—people started spreading rumors about me behind my back. They said I was being kept by some older man. After class that day, everyone scattered, and I sat alone at my desk, crying softly until the sky grew dark. When I finally got up to leave, I realized a strange man had walked into the room. The disgusting middle-aged man grabbed my arm. I screamed and ran, but he chased after me. Until I fell into Derek’s arms. He couldn’t afford a dorm, so he’d set up a makeshift bed in the school’s storage room. Our classmates covered for him, and the teachers turned a blind eye. The boy who had always seemed so cold and aloof suddenly seemed so tall and strong. He chased the man away and called the police. It wasn’t until he helped me into the ambulance that he finally spoke. “Stop crying. I’ll take you home.” That’s how we met. That’s how we fell in love. And that’s how the rest of our story began. Thinking about it now, I let out a bitter laugh. I still don’t know how we ended up here. I’d had too much to drink, so I got up to use the restroom. But as I passed the smoking area, I heard Vivian’s giggling voice. “Did you see her face just now? I almost died laughing.” “After all these years, she still doesn’t know that you were the one who told us to lock that door, does she, Derek?” I froze in place. A chill ran up my spine, nearly knocking me off my feet. Derek’s voice came, tinged with resignation. “Stop bringing up the past. I was young and stupid back then.” “Don’t tell me you still feel guilty? You used to hate how she was always crying all the time. And then you dated her, married her—you basically gave her half your life.” “Exactly. Our Derek used to have girls lining up for him. And look at him now—he’s a catch. If you ask me, she’s the one who got lucky.” “Hey, do you think if I mess with her again, she’ll freak out like she used to? That was always so fun.” Derek cut her off immediately. “I’m warning you—don’t even think about it.” “Okay, okay…” Their voices grew closer. When the door swung open, tears had blurred my vision—but I could still see the lingering smile on Derek’s face. Which quickly turned to panic.

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While at work, I accidentally sent a photo of a car I meant for the auto shop to our work group chat instead. A new intern sharply questioned me: “Joanna, why are you sending photos of my car? Are you eyeing my sports car or something?” I was confused and asked if she’d made a mistake—this was my car. She immediately sent a series of photos and videos of herself driving the supercar, proving it was hers. Then she added sarcastically: “Some broke people really have no shame. This sports car was custom-made for me by my husband. There’s only one like it in the entire world. Did you think stealing a photo of my car would make you Mrs. Reid?” I frowned and looked over at my husband beside me, asking: “Do you have a second wife I don’t know about?” Because I was too busy at work, I accidentally sent the car photo meant for the auto shop to the intern group chat instead. Before I could unsend it, several interns had already seen it, and the chat immediately exploded: “Holy shit! A starlight-roof supercar—the customization alone must cost hundreds of thousands! Joanna’s actually loaded!” “Never would’ve guessed Joanna’s a trust fund kid!” “What do Joanna’s parents do? That supercar must be at least five million dollars, right?” The chat quickly filled with dozens of messages, all asking about my family background. Several male interns even privately messaged me asking to take me to dinner. Feeling a bit helpless, I casually explained: “I’m not a trust fund kid. It’s just a birthday gift from my husband. Everyone should focus on work instead…” Before I could finish, intern Quinn Rivera suddenly jumped in: “Joanna, why are you sending photos of my car?” “And claiming it’s a birthday gift from your husband—are you trying to brag that your husband’s a billionaire?” “I shouldn’t have driven my car to the hospital. Having someone like you steal photos to show off is just my bad luck!” The barrage of accusations left me instantly bewildered. I asked in confusion: “Quinn, I think you’ve misunderstood. Maybe our cars look similar?” She went silent for a few seconds, then started frantically posting various photos of herself with the supercar in the group chat, including videos of her driving from the driver’s seat. Her tone became even more mocking: “My starlight-roof supercar is custom-made, one of a kind in the entire world. How dare you, some broke doctor, claim it looks like yours?” “You steal one photo and dare to say it’s yours—you might as well take a photo in front of the White House and claim that’s your house too!” This blatant ridicule immediately reversed the other interns’ attitudes. They all turned on me: “Joanna, that’s not how you show off… This is so embarrassing.” “If you don’t have a car, just say so. Nobody’s judging. No need to do something this pathetic and get called out by Quinn.” “Never thought there’d be attention-seekers like this at the hospital. And she’s supposed to be training us? Hope she doesn’t turn us all into liars too, hahaha.” Another stream of passive-aggressive comments followed. Some even tagged me directly, demanding I apologize to Quinn. I frowned and tagged Quinn directly: “What’s going on? Why were you in my car? And when were those videos taken?” I participated in designing the starlight roof in my car—it was unique. So the moment Quinn posted those photos and videos, I knew that was my car. That’s why I confronted her directly. Quinn: [Can you have some shame? Even now you’re still claiming it’s your car. Do I really need to drive it right up to your face before you’ll give up?] “If it’s really your car, then tell me what color the interior is right now.” “Gray.” I answered confidently. I’d just had the auto shop change the color a few days ago. But the next second, Quinn sent a photo—a selfie of her sitting inside the car, with the interior now changed to pink. She immediately laughed mockingly: “Of course trashy people are trashy—you slipped up with one sentence! When you stole that photo of my car, the interior was gray, but I changed it to pink yesterday!” “What’s wrong? Can’t find updated stolen photos fast enough?” Seeing this, everyone in the group became even more convinced the car was Quinn’s, and they all piled on to attack me. “Joanna looks so aloof, but she’s actually this vain! Having someone like her as our supervisor is really bad luck!” “Exactly. She sees someone driving a luxury car, steals photos to lie about it, and now gets exposed by Quinn. How embarrassing!” “She opens her mouth and lies—maybe her impressive academic credentials are lies too. Aren’t there lots of female doctors who sleep with old professors just to publish papers?” The comments got more and more exaggerated, even making up scandals about me. I was furious and about to fight back when a colleague notified me about an emergency surgery I needed to perform immediately. Hearing this, I had no time to deal with these interns in the chat. I rushed off to do the surgery.

By the time I came out of the operating room, it was afternoon. As soon as I walked out of the main hall, I saw a delivery guy carrying an enormous bouquet of yellow roses coming in from outside, calling out loudly: “Excuse me, is there a Mrs. Reid here? These are flowers ordered for you by Mr. Reid!” Seeing this, I couldn’t help but smile. This morning when leaving the house, I’d rushed and had a little spat with Grayson Reid. We’d had a cold war all day without talking, but now he was sending yellow roses—clearly an apology. I suppressed my smile and stepped forward: “Give me the flowers. I’m Mrs.—” “Don’t touch my flowers!” Before my hand could take the bouquet, Quinn suddenly shrieked and ran over from the opposite direction, shoving me aside and glaring at me with utter contempt: “Joanna, can you have any shame? This morning you tried to claim my car, this afternoon you’re trying to steal my flowers—do you have no sense of dignity at all?” She shoved me and I stumbled. My initial willingness to let it go turned to complete anger. I frowned at her: “Is something wrong with your brain? These are my flowers!” “Hahahaha…” Quinn’s entourage—several other interns from the chat—all pointed at me and laughed: “How much do you love drama? A bouquet of roses this big—only Quinn’s wealthy young master husband could afford it. Who do you think would send flowers to a country bumpkin like you?” “Exactly! Never seen someone like this—completely shameless over a bouquet of flowers! The way she shamelessly pushed herself forward was so embarrassing to watch!” “Only someone like Quinn, a wealthy young madam with such grace, wouldn’t stoop to your level. Otherwise I’d really call the police!” Meanwhile, Quinn put on a shy expression: “Oh, you guys are terrible! I told you to keep my identity secret, and here you are blabbing about it!” “My darling husband is a wealthy family heir—very prestigious. So many people try to curry favor with him. I don’t want to be bothered by these people every day.” The others immediately comforted and praised her, expressing understanding and showing various envious expressions. I was dumbfounded by their performance—utterly speechless: “Your darling husband is so amazing but makes you drive someone else’s car and steal someone else’s flowers?” “And ‘wealthy young madam’—what kind of wealthy young madam does an internship? Just go home and lie around instead!” “What do you know? I believe in being self-reliant!” Quinn seemed to have a nerve struck. Her face flushed as she stepped forward: “If I told you my husband’s name, it would scare you to death. He’s the heir to the Reid Corporation!” I paused before processing who she meant, then asked with a frown: “You’re talking about Grayson?” “How dare you! How dare you speak my husband’s name so casually?” Quinn glared at me arrogantly, incredibly haughty. I was beyond speechless: “Did Grayson marry you in your dreams?” “How dare you insult me?” Quinn’s expression changed. She opened her mouth angrily: “My husband won’t let you get away with—” I raised my hand, cutting off her words: “I don’t know if your husband will let me get away with anything, but I’ll tell you this—you’re impersonating Mrs. Reid and swindling people. Grayson definitely won’t let you get away with it!” Someone impersonating a wealthy lady and landing on me—today really opened my eyes. Quinn’s face turned red: “What gives you the right to say I’m swindling people? I am Grayson’s wife!” “Proof?” I stared at her unflinchingly: “Empty words mean nothing. Why should I believe you’re Mrs. Reid?” “I’ll call my husband right now and have him come over immediately!” She pulled out her phone and made a call, her voice sweet and cloying: “Hello, honey, come to the hospital quick. Some bitch doesn’t believe your identity and keeps bullying me, boo hoo…” “Who dares bully Grayson’s woman? I’ll be right there!” The voice on the other end of the call—Grayson—immediately responded, saying he’d come over. Hearing this, Quinn immediately became confident, looking smugly at everyone: “Nobody leave. When my husband gets here, he won’t let this bitch off!” Watching Quinn so confident and certain, I felt bewildered for a moment. If her husband really was Grayson, then who was my husband? So I also took the opportunity to send Grayson a message on SnapChat, asking him to pick me up from the hospital. Grayson quickly replied “OK,” which put my mind at ease. I also started looking forward to this upcoming drama of “the real and fake Grayson”!

While waiting for Grayson to arrive, Quinn became increasingly smug. Holding that bouquet of yellow roses, she came up to me and said contemptuously: “Joanna, I understand you’re vain because you come from poverty, but I can’t just let you slandering me slide.” “You need to kneel and apologize to me, and promise never to ride my coattails again. Otherwise, I’ll definitely have my husband hold you accountable!” That pissed me off. Before I could respond, the other interns immediately chimed in: “Quinn, you’re so kind. She slandered you like that and you’re only asking her to kneel and apologize!” “Joanna, the Reid Corporation heir isn’t that easy to talk to. I think you should obediently kneel now before Mr. Reid gets here and refuses to let you off!” “Exactly! I heard Mr. Reid has avoided public appearances for years. Today he’s coming to the hospital to confront you for Quinn’s sake—don’t you realize how serious this is?” Grayson indeed disliked public appearances, but that was due to his personality. I never expected this would now give these people ammunition to attack me. How ridiculous. Thinking this, I couldn’t help but sneer: “I’d also like to see who won’t let who off!” Quinn was out there impersonating my identity and swindling people, even able to freely drive my car and change the interior colors. I needed to get to the bottom of this—I couldn’t let her keep ruining my reputation! Quinn snorted coldly: “Stubborn till the end! Just wait till you see how powerful my husband is!” As soon as she finished speaking, a commotion came from the hospital entrance. The hospital director and other leaders personally went to greet someone: “Oh my, Mr. Reid! If you were coming to the hospital, you should have told us in advance so I could personally pick you up! What a wonderful surprise!” “Mr. Reid, that thirty million dollars in medical equipment you invested in our hospital last time really solved a huge problem for us. The entire hospital is incredibly grateful to you!” I looked up and saw it was indeed Grayson. He strode toward us, his expression calm. Madison was the first to greet him with a fawning smile: “Mr. Reid, you really do dote on your wife. The moment you heard Mrs. Reid was wronged, you came right away.” “Look, Mrs. Reid has been waiting for you!” She pointed toward Quinn. Grayson glanced at Quinn and said in a low voice: “Honey, come here.” As soon as he said this, everyone present became excited, all looking enviously at Quinn.

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After three years of marriage, Ethan remained obsessively germaphobic to the point of pathology. No kissing allowed, and he insisted on wearing five layers of condoms. That was, until the day I brought him soup at his office and found him pinning Willow—the student I’d been sponsoring—against his desk, ravaging her without restraint. Their bodies were tangled together intimately, not even a single condom in sight. My eyes immediately turned red. I rushed forward and slapped Willow hard across the face, only to be kicked to the ground by Ethan. “How dare you hit Willow?” I couldn’t believe it. “Ethan, you’re cheating and you think you’re in the right?” Just as I was about to strike again with tears streaming down my face, his assistant suddenly appeared and expressionlessly threw a stack of papers in my face. “Lauren, your marriage certificate with Mr. Chandler is fake. His real wife is Willow. You’re the mistress!” “Given that you just assaulted Mrs. Chandler, Mr. Chandler is very angry and wants to reclaim all the assets he’s spent on you over the years.” I was ordered to repay fifty million dollars, and ultimately spent three years in prison for being unable to pay. Later, I was reunited with my billionaire father. On my first day back in the capital, I ran into a heavily pregnant Willow being held by Ethan. When he saw me, he sneered coldly. “That was just to teach you a lesson. Now that you’ve learned to behave in prison, you can come home and take care of Willow.” “As long as you don’t cause trouble, letting you work as a housekeeper in the Chandler household won’t be a problem.”

My gaze was ice-cold as I stared directly at the loving couple before me. The man who had once been pathologically germaphobic around me was now supporting Willow with a face full of tenderness. “Why are you just standing there? Hurry up and help Willow.” “After spending so long in prison, you still don’t know how to serve people properly.” Ethan’s face showed displeasure as he kept urging me. “Lauren hasn’t gone stupid from getting beaten in prison, has she? Why isn’t she responding?” Willow stroked her round belly, looking at me with contempt. Seeing me frozen in place, Ethan reached out and grabbed me. “Lauren, if you take good care of Willow, I’ll still give you a meal to eat.” “Otherwise, as an ex-convict, no one will take you in.” Watching Ethan’s aggressive expression, I thought back to when he was in college. Back then, he was still a shy and quiet young man. Too poor to apply for financial aid but too embarrassed to ask, he would eat other people’s leftovers in the cafeteria every day. As a student leader, I extended a helping hand, helping him apply for aid and buying him meals every day. His eyes would turn red, and he’d practically kneel before me in gratitude. In the end, he conspired with Willow to send me to prison. I suppressed the discomfort in my chest and turned to walk away. Willow stepped forward to grab me, and I quickly dodged to the side. She actually stumbled and fell directly to the ground. Seeing this, Ethan kicked me viciously. I cried out in pain and fell to the side. He hurried to help Willow up, his eyes full of heartache and anxiety. I lay on the ground for a long time, unable to get up. Years ago, to accompany Ethan in starting his business, I squeezed into a tiny rental apartment with him. I bought him thermal pants but couldn’t bear to buy any for myself, and my legs developed problems from the cold. During my years in prison, I had no proper care. That kick from Ethan just now—the pain was excruciating now. “You lunatic! Willow was kind enough to offer you a job, and you tried to hurt her.” Ethan’s eyes blazed with fury, his chest heaving. “I never thought that after all these years, Lauren would still hold a grudge against me.” “Ethan, she wanted to hurt our baby.” Willow cried pitifully, as if she’d suffered the greatest injustice. She was still addicted to playing the victim. Our commotion in the street attracted quite a few onlookers. “That woman just got out of prison. My husband and I are acquaintances, so we wanted to help her find a job.” “Not only is she ungrateful, she pushed me, trying to harm the baby in my belly.” Willow spoke timidly, tears streaming down her face. “That woman is absolute trash. They were kind enough to help her, and she tried to hurt their baby.” “No wonder she was in prison. Lock her up again before she hurts more people.” Several middle-aged women were indignant, throwing vegetable scraps at me. Seeing that I really couldn’t get up, Ethan reached out and pulled me to my feet. Willow’s eyes seemed ready to shoot flames as she shouted at the crowd, “I’m calling the police.”

Ethan showed a shocked expression, then whispered in my ear. “Come back with me and be our housekeeper, or you’ll have hell to pay at the police station.” I forced myself to stand, shook off his hand forcefully, and said through gritted teeth: “Dream on. I never pushed her.” Willow looked desolate. “Ethan, my stomach hurts so much.” “Won’t you seek justice for me and the baby?” Watching her tearful expression, Ethan pulled out his phone. “I’m filing a report…” The surrounding crowd encircled me, pointing and gossiping. Soon the police arrived. Willow spoke weakly: “Officers, this woman tried to harm me and my unborn baby.” “I didn’t. She fell on her own, trying to frame me.” I said firmly. Willow whimpered while clutching her stomach, collapsing against Ethan’s shoulder. “She just got out of prison. We kindly offered her a job, but she tried to hurt us.” The surrounding onlookers grew more agitated. “That prison woman pushed her. We all saw it.” “Obviously no good. Just got out and already hurting people. Lock her up again.” The police said they would take us all back to the station for investigation. Throughout the journey, Willow kept crying softly while Ethan consoled her in low tones. That gentle manner—I’d never seen it before. In all the years we were together, he had been taciturn. I once asked playfully, “Ethan, why do you always have such a stern face?” He said he wasn’t good at expressing himself, that he had childhood trauma and couldn’t say comforting words. I felt guilty for so long afterward, hating myself for tearing open Ethan’s wounds. Now it seemed he just didn’t want to say such things to me. Getting out of the police car and seeing the station entrance, I almost laughed out loud. I turned to look at Ethan. His gaze froze as well. This police station was where Ethan and I had made our relationship official. Back in college, Ethan had a breakdown and cried when his wallet was stolen. The station where I accompanied him to file a report was this very one. That day, coming out of the station, he pulled a woven grass ring from his pocket. With hesitant eyes, he asked if I would be his girlfriend. I didn’t hesitate and put on that grass ring.

As soon as we entered the interrogation room, Ethan and Willow insisted I had deliberately hurt her, even producing evidence of my recent release from prison. My gaze was cold. “I did serve time, but that doesn’t mean I pushed her.” “You went to prison for being a mistress. Now that you’re out, wouldn’t you want revenge?” Willow spoke quickly, then quickly covered her mouth with her hand, as if it was an accident. Everyone froze. Several witnesses who had followed began muttering among themselves. “Really awful. Went to prison for being a mistress, got out and hurt people again.” “This person is rotten to the core. Should be locked up for life.” People around looked at me with contempt. Even the police officers frowned. My chest felt a sharp pain. Three years ago, Ethan’s assistant said my marriage certificate with Ethan was fake, that I was the mistress. I nearly went mad. We’d had a wedding and gotten a marriage certificate—how could I be the mistress? I was ordered to pay money back. Unable to pay, I was sent to prison. In jail, I received divorce papers and a message from Ethan. Ethan said I talked back to him and wasn’t obedient at all. He told me to learn to behave, and once I did, he’d let me come back. Willow was pregnant and needed the position of wife, so I should sign quickly. I signed without hesitation. I faced the mocking stares around me and responded: “Everything requires evidence. I’m not a mistress, and I didn’t push anyone.” “I’m suing you for defamation.” The surrounding voices quieted somewhat. Willow showed a pained expression and sobbed, “Officer, you see how arrogant this person is. You must help us.” Ethan’s face was unkind as he pointed at me. “What are you threatening? You’re an ex-convict—who’s going to listen to your nonsense?” Watching him point and curse at me, I only felt amused. That innocent young man from years ago was completely dead. The police officer gestured for everyone to be quiet and said they were pulling nearby surveillance footage. Seeing the police officer get up and leave, Ethan walked toward me, his eyes full of pity. “Lauren, if you just come back with me and be our housekeeper, I won’t pursue today’s matter.” “Prison before was just to teach you a lesson. If you’d been obedient like Willow, why would I have sent you to prison?” I leaned close to Ethan and spat at him viciously. “Stop dreaming. Just seeing you two makes me sick.” Ethan grabbed my hand and forced me into a corner. “Lauren, three years in prison and you still have this much backbone. Still haven’t learned to behave!” “Looks like you need to study in there for a few more years.” I bit down hard on his hand. Ethan released me in pain. “You’re an ex-convict. No one will want you.” “Lauren, this is your last chance.” I ignored him and walked to the other side. In my heart, I prayed that as long as there was surveillance footage, it would prove I didn’t push Willow. After a while, the police officer came back in and said there was no surveillance nearby. If I couldn’t reach a settlement, I’d be detained for investigation. Hearing this, Willow’s eyes brightened. With a contemptuous smile on her lips, she looked at me provocatively. “A settlement is possible. You just need to sign a contract to be mine and Ethan’s housekeeper, taking care of our daily needs, and we’ll agree to settle.” “Ethan said you’re pretty good at taking care of people. Here’s your chance to redeem yourself.” After speaking, Willow pulled out paper and pen from her bag and threw them at me. “Our Willow is truly kind-hearted.” “Lauren, you’d better not be stubborn to the end.” Ethan’s eyes showed certain victory as he stood with his arms crossed, watching me. Looking at his smug expression, I really wanted to slap myself. I’d accompanied the penniless Ethan in starting his business years ago. I watched him grow from a stammering young man into Mr. Chandler who could command everything. In the company’s early days, I managed finances while handling business relations. I built the entire company with my own hands. Until Ethan grew strong enough and told me to stay home as Mrs. Chandler and stop working so hard. At the time, I thought Ethan was just concerned about me, so I gave up all my work at the company and stayed home trying to conceive. Looking back now, it was all Ethan’s conspiracy to seize power. I threw the paper and pen back. “I didn’t push her. I won’t settle. I want an investigation.” Shock flashed through Ethan’s eyes. “Lauren, are you crazy? You want to go to prison!” I didn’t respond and walked toward the police officer. “You can detain me, but I want a thorough investigation. I won’t settle.” The police officer showed disbelief and confirmed several times. I nodded. This time, I couldn’t be framed without knowing the truth again. Just as I was being led toward the detention room, a voice came from behind. “Wait. I have evidence proving Ms. Reed is being framed.”

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