Category: English

Before bed, I habitually reached to unzip David’s pants, only to catch a faint whiff of cigarette smoke. He rarely smokes, except for the occasional cigarette after intimacy when he’s exhausted. And we hadn’t seen each other in two months due to his business trip. As I teasingly wrapped my arms around his neck, hoping to kiss him, he casually pushed me away. “My back hurts. Not tonight. Go to sleep.” I stared at the man now fast asleep in front of me, my brows furrowing. Instinct told me that David was cheating. And the girl? She had to be young—definitely draining his energy. My name is Lauren West. I’m 28, and my husband, David, is 12 years older than me, just turning 40 this year. Because of our age difference, I often call him “Old David,” and he would always joke about how our “older man, younger wife” dynamic made him look great when we went out together. I’d just laugh it off. When we first met, I was an outstanding college student intern at the United States Jewelry Convention, while he was already a suave, young business owner. Attracted to his sophisticated demeanor, we hit it off almost instantly at the event. Now, after five years of marriage, one child, and a stable, comfortable life, we appear to be a happy couple. But time has changed him—David has transformed into a middle-aged man with a bit of a gut and deep lines etched around his mouth. After having our child, despite relying on high-end spas and wellness centers, the stretch marks on my body never truly faded, making me feel far from the young woman I once was. “Marriage is like that,” I told myself. “When passion fades, it evolves into something more familial.” I reassured myself and gradually shifted my attention to our son and my career. David treated me the same as always—Valentine’s Day, anniversaries, birthdays—he never missed gifting me something special. On our anniversary, he had the housekeeper deliver a Cartier Diamond Necklace, a limited edition piece. “There were only two in the city, and I pre-ordered one just for you,” he said. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and kissed my cheek, the coarse stubble on his chin tickling my neck. David chuckled lowly, and suddenly, he seemed unusually excited, pushing me down onto my office desk. Blushing, I shoved him away. “What are you doing? We’re at the office…” He bit my earlobe playfully, unusually eager, like a young man again. “Then let’s go to the room.” After years of marriage, it was rare for David to be this impatient. My office has a small break room where I sometimes take naps when I’m tired. He scooped me up in his arms and carried me behind the curtain, all while the rest of the office remained blissfully unaware of what was happening. David’s hands moved with expert ease, and he suddenly whispered in my ear: “Lauren, I…” What he said made my face flush red instantly. Because of work, I often wore black stockings, though David had never shown any special interest in them. That day, he was unusually vigorous, to the point where I almost feared the employees downstairs might hear us. For someone in his 40s, David shouldn’t have had such intense energy unless something had triggered it. I vaguely recalled him taking a pill in the middle of it. When I asked what it was, he said it was for his back pain. David has issues with his lower back, so he often takes painkillers. But after that incident, I found an aluminum blister pack on the floor. On it, clear as day, were the words: “Performance-Enhancing Pills.” The purpose of these pills was obvious. But why would he need them? And why lie to me about it? This planted a seed of doubt in my mind. Two months later, as we prepared for the upcoming United States Jewelry Convention, I was swamped with work as a key organizer. Meanwhile, David was nowhere to be found. When I called him, he claimed to be out at meetings. It wasn’t until I tracked his location that I found him at a hotel in Boston. “Hey, honey!” I threw my arms around his neck, pretending to be excited as I ushered him into the room. “Hmm, missed you,” he said casually, his expression unchanged, though I noticed his exhaustion. He glanced down and lifted the necklace I was wearing. The Cartier Diamond Necklace he had given me. “You look the most beautiful when you wear it,” he said with an earnest smile. Before bed, I reached to unzip David’s pants again and was greeted by that same faint smell of smoke. He never smokes, except occasionally after intimacy when he’s tired. And we hadn’t seen each other in two months. As I tried to wrap my arms around his neck, seeking a kiss, he once again pushed me away, unenthusiastically. “My back hurts. Not tonight. Go to sleep.” I stared at the man soundly sleeping next to me, my brow furrowing again. I just knew it. David was cheating. And that girl? She was young, and she was draining his energy. When he was fast asleep, I carefully reached for his phone. David might be a small-time business owner, but he’s not exactly up to date with technology—still using his BlackBerry Key2. All his business dealings go through his assistant, Brandon Cooper, who handles the communication and manages his interactions through a smartphone. I looked at his phone, expressionless, and set it back down. From texts to call logs, everything was spotless. Clearly, I’d need to get to his assistant. The next day, I used an excuse about reviewing a design to ask Brandon if I could borrow David’s phone. He was cautious. “Sorry, Lauren, but Mr. West specifically said only he can access his phone due to business confidentiality.” I smiled, crossing my arms. “Business confidentiality? I’m the owner’s wife. What kind of ‘confidentiality’ is there between us? I’m just checking a file.” Brandon hesitated, clearly reluctant. I narrowed my eyes and casually said, “Fine, I’ll call David. If you won’t respect his wife, I’ll have him fire you.” Reluctantly, Brandon handed over the phone, and as promised, I only looked at a few business emails in front of him. After about ten minutes, I nodded calmly and returned the phone. But as I left his office, there was a small USB drive in the palm of my hand. While checking the files, I had discreetly copied everything from the phone onto it. Back home, I immediately plugged the USB into my computer, ready to uncover the truth. The messages seemed clean, everything looked normal. So why had Brandon been so secretive? I didn’t buy it. I clicked “Switch Accounts” and sure enough… Brandon had set up a second account for David with the username Casanova44—fitting for a sleazy middle-aged man. In one of the group chats, Kingdom of Vice, there were endless disgusting messages between David and his low-life friends. David’s most recent post? “These young girls are exhausting. Even with performance pills, my back can’t keep up.” The photo gallery had dozens of inappropriate screenshots, including video calls with a girl whose profile picture was a Hello Kitty icon. In the top corner was David’s face, looking as greasy as ever. Below him, a dimply, smooth-skinned girl. I clenched my mouse, committing her face to memory. Then I opened their chat logs: “Daddy, you’re amazing. Still going strong even in your 40s. 🌹😏” “Haha, it’s your tiny waist. My back just can’t handle it…” Everything fell into place. My face hardened, and my hand scrolled faster. How amusing. A “working student,” huh? Currently interning at our company, doing nothing more than fetching coffee. She claimed David was her “emotional support,” and he, in return, gave her financial assistance. Little did I know, that “support” had quickly turned into something physical. I scrolled through our summer interns in the HR records until I found a familiar face in a small ID photo. That soft, youthful face matched the girl in David’s screenshots perfectly. I narrowed my eyes and locked onto the name next to the picture: Chloe Parker.

When I first met David, he was in his early 30s—sophisticated, with a certain intellectual charm. Now, though? I would’ve thought by 40 he’d have outgrown his attraction to younger girls, but no, he had managed to attract another one. His hair had started to gray, he was balding, and he had a beer belly. What could she possibly see in him? Was it his age? His lack of personal hygiene? Or maybe it was his three-bedroom house? I chuckled darkly as I continued to flip through Chloe’s file, comparing it to the chat logs. Chloe Parker came from a poor background, claiming to be a “working student.” She looked shy and quiet, but her ambition was sky-high. She wanted to use David as a stepping stone to live the high life. They had been involved for two months now—just long enough for David to get hooked. No wonder he had been so aggressive in my office that day. He must’ve been “recharged.” In their chats, Chloe even hinted at divorce, throwing out comments like: “Daddy, I’d be happy to give you more kids. We could name them Do, Re, and Mi, like musical notes.” Such a fake, innocent front. David, however, gave the classic “woke cheater” response: “I have a wife. What kids are you going to have with me?” “We’re having an affair, not a relationship, Chloe. You need to get your head straight.” But she wouldn’t let it go, pushing the subject at every chance. I laughed to myself. A girl like her, so new to this game, thinking she could take my place. It was almost laughable. David, of course, continued dodging her hints. I knew deep down, David didn’t have the guts to ask for a divorce. Chloe was just a fun distraction for him. That’s how business works. David and I owned West Jewelers together—everything we had built was intertwined. If one thread unraveled, the whole thing could collapse. He couldn’t leave me, yet he crossed a line that my morality and sense of loyalty couldn’t forgive—he cheated. My expression darkened. I I never thought the strategies I used to deal with business competitors would one day be used on my own husband. Since you’ve betrayed me, David, don’t expect mercy.…

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On Aria’s 23rd birthday, I finally mustered up the courage to confess my feelings for her. But on my way to celebrate her birthday, I got into a car accident and lost my memory. When I woke up, she was standing by my hospital bed, wordlessly handing me divorce papers. “Considering you were willing to hurt yourself to divorce me, I’ll grant your wish.” Wait, what? I was going to confess my love, how did it turn into a divorce? I had a crush on Aria for five years. So, on Aria’s 23rd birthday, I finally decided to confess my feelings to her. I went to the flower shop and bought a bouquet of 99 roses because I remembered Aria once saying that she admired those movie scenes where the male lead confesses his love with roses in hand. “That kind of confession scene is just so romantic!” 18-year-old Aria had said, sitting next to me, looking at the big screen with envious eyes. “So, how many roses would you like?” I had asked. Aria thought seriously for a moment, then turned to look at me without speaking. Her bright eyes made my heart start to beat faster involuntarily, and even my ears began to feel warm. “Of course, 99 roses,” she had finally answered. Looking at the 99 roses now occupying the passenger seat, I couldn’t help but imagine how touched and happy Aria would be when she saw the confession scene she had always dreamed of. However, this happiness didn’t last long because I got distracted and ended up in a car accident. The last thing I remember before passing out was the sticky smell of blood in my nostrils and a vague image of Aria standing outside the car window, calling out anxiously. When I woke up again, my whole body was in excruciating pain, including my head. I slowly opened my eyes and saw Aria standing by my bed, her slender white hand adjusting the speed of the IV drip. Aria was still as beautiful as when I first met her, with her small oval face and black hair neatly draped over her shoulders, making her look so gentle and elegant. Seeing that I was awake, she asked if I felt uncomfortable anywhere. “My head hurts badly, Aria. Can you help me sit up? My back is uncomfortable.” Hearing this, she reached out her hand, carefully supporting me while operating the remote control by the hospital bed, trying to raise the head of the bed slightly. But at that moment, my attention was drawn to the diamond ring on her ring finger. I hadn’t expected Aria to be married already. A sense of dejection enveloped me, and I felt my mood plummet to rock bottom. I was so disappointed. I had liked Aria for a full five years, but it turned out she already had a happy family. After adjusting the height of the bed, Aria carefully placed me on the hospital bed, then stepped back, maintaining a safe distance from me. Seeing this, my mood became even more depressed. But I clearly understood that I couldn’t show this emotion right now. After all, loving someone doesn’t mean possessing them, but hoping for their happiness. So, I tried to force a smile on my pale lips, suppressing my discomfort. “Aria, did you save me?” It seemed my words touched a sensitive spot for her. She frowned, looking at me with cold eyes, her tone equally unpleasant, as if suppressing her emotions. “Jasper Reed, to divorce me, you even risked your own life. Is there anything you won’t do?” When I heard these words, I was completely bewildered. Me? Divorce her? But I was clearly going to celebrate her birthday and confess my feelings. How did it turn into a divorce? However, before I could figure out what was going on, a male doctor in a white coat walked in. He smiled happily at Aria. I remembered this person, I think his name was Dr. Caleb Hawthorne. The important thing was, he also liked Aria! Sure enough, he came over and gave me a thorough examination. When he lifted my arm and shook it in the air for a while, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that I was also wearing a ring on my ring finger! If I wasn’t mistaken, this ring and the one on Aria’s hand were a matching set! So, I really was married to her, as Aria had said. And, stupidly, I had tried to divorce her?? Dr. Hawthorne’s voice interrupted my thoughts. I looked up to see him staring intently and maliciously at Aria standing opposite. “Fortunately, the car accident wasn’t too serious. With some good rest, you’ll be fine. Aria, thank you for taking care of him during this time.” “You haven’t eaten anything since yesterday. The dumplings at the hospital entrance are quite good. Would you like me to bring you some?” Before Aria could respond, I answered him first. “Thank you for your concern, Dr. Hawthorne, but I’ll take care of my wife myself.” Dr. Hawthorne looked at me, then smiled slightly without saying anything more and left the room. After he left, Aria gave me a cold look, then took out a divorce agreement from her bag and placed it in front of me. “Jasper Reed, since you’re willing to harm yourself to get a divorce, there’s no point in dragging this out any longer. I agree to divorce you and let you go.”

Agree my ass. Of course, I couldn’t say that to Aria directly. Although I didn’t know how I had ended up marrying Aria, given that I had a crush on her for five years, I must have been out of my mind to sign divorce papers. Just as I was about to tell her to forget about it, Aria’s phone suddenly rang. A moment later, a cute little girl appeared in front of me, bouncing on her short legs into Aria’s arms. “Mommy, hug me.” The little girl was now being held by Aria, looking at me with big eyes. Looking closely, she really resembled Aria, like a miniature version of her. I found myself liking her more and more, so I unconsciously reached out to hold her hand. But she seemed very afraid and immediately withdrew her hand, burying her entire face in Aria’s chest. “I’m sorry, this is your child, right? She looks just like you, very cute.” Aria frowned at me, the impatience in her eyes instantly sobering me up. But I felt I should still explain a bit. “Aria, I know what I’m about to say might sound absurd, but you have to believe me. I… I really don’t remember being married to you…” As soon as I said this, Aria’s face looked even more gloomy. I slapped myself hard on the mouth. How stupid, how could I say that? “No, no, what I mean is that after waking up from the accident, I lost my memory. I only remember going to celebrate your 23rd birthday and planning to confess to you.” Hearing this, Aria looked like she had just heard a joke. She sneered and then looked at me. “Jasper Reed, you can even come up with such a lame excuse as amnesia. I guess you really have gone to great lengths.” “But whether you’ve really lost your memory or you’re just pretending, I’m no longer interested in you. Look at the divorce agreement in your hand. That’s what you should be considering now.” I really didn’t know what unforgivable thing I had done before losing my memory. To make Aria so disgusted with me. She didn’t even believe my words. Seeing her cold, distant, and suspicious gaze, I felt like I was about to have a breakdown right there. “Mommy, are you and Daddy getting divorced?” The little girl’s sweet voice brought me back to reality. I looked at the little girl hiding in Aria’s arms, recalling what she had just said. Daddy? So, this little girl really was the fruit of my love with Aria? “Well, Aria, even for the sake of the child, divorce isn’t good. Children who lose their father’s love can easily develop personality deficiencies.” Aria comforted her gently, but when she looked at me, her gaze was as cold and impatient as ever. The little girl’s gaze didn’t linger on me for long either. After giving me a brief look, she continued to hug Aria’s neck tightly. “Jasper Reed, since Mila was born, have you ever truly cared for her? Do you know what color she likes, what food she enjoys, what games she usually plays, or what cartoons she watches?” Aria’s words hit me hard, leaving me speechless. “You’ve never truly cared, not for Mila, not for me.” “All you’ve ever cared about is how to please your ideal love!” With that, she turned away, no longer paying attention to me, and left with our daughter. Recalling Aria’s words, I felt that I was an unqualified existence, both as a husband and as a father. I guess this is probably the reason why Aria wants to divorce me. But what did Aria mean by that “ideal love” she mentioned earlier? Isn’t she my ideal love?

A week later, using the excuse that I didn’t want to stay at home anymore, I asked Aria to discharge me from the hospital. Lying on the soft, comfortable memory foam mattress, I stared at the ceiling, feeling a headache coming on. Because I couldn’t remember anything at all. I couldn’t remember how I married Aria, couldn’t remember how we lived after getting married. And I couldn’t remember how we ended up at the point of divorce. However, the divorce agreement on the bedside table undeniably told me one fact – my marriage with Aria seemed to have come to an end without me even noticing. But I clearly liked her so much, liked her enough to willingly guard her silently for five years. Yet her words conveyed another message to me – that after marrying her, I had hooked up with my ideal love? Although I had lost my memory, my ideal love was clearly Aria. How could there possibly be another woman? I had never felt such a headache and frustration before. I directly pulled the covers over my head, burying my entire body under the blanket. “Daddy.” A sweet little voice brought me back to reality. I loosened the blanket and saw Mila standing there with a small fruit platter in her hands, looking at me with her big eyes from afar. Looking at her like this, she really did look like Aria, a miniature version of her. The more I looked, the more I liked her. So I unconsciously reached out to hold her hand. But she seemed very afraid and immediately withdrew her hand, burying her entire face in Aria’s chest. “I’m sorry, this is your child, right? She looks just like you, very cute.” Aria frowned at me, the impatience in her eyes instantly sobering me up. But I felt I should still explain a bit. “Aria, I know what I’m about to say might sound absurd, but you have to believe me. I… I really don’t remember being married to you…” As soon as I said this, Aria’s face looked even more gloomy. I slapped myself hard on the mouth. How stupid, how could I say that? “No, no, what I mean is that after waking up from the accident, I lost my memory. I only remember going to celebrate your 23rd birthday and planning to confess to you.” Hearing this, Aria looked like she had just heard a joke. She sneered and then looked at me. “Jasper Reed, you can even come up with such a lame excuse as amnesia. I guess you really have gone to great lengths.” “But whether you’ve really lost your memory or you’re just pretending, I’m no longer interested in you. Look at the divorce agreement in your hand. That’s what you should be considering now.” I really didn’t know what unforgivable thing I had done before losing my memory. To make Aria so disgusted with me. She didn’t even believe my words. Seeing her cold, distant, and suspicious gaze, I felt like I was about to have a breakdown right there. “Mommy, are you and Daddy getting divorced?” The little girl’s sweet voice brought me back to reality. I looked at the little girl hiding in Aria’s arms, recalling what she had just said. Daddy? So, this little girl really was the fruit of my love with Aria? “Well, Aria, even for the sake of the child, divorce isn’t good. Children who lose their father’s love can easily develop personality deficiencies.” Aria comforted her gently, but when she looked at me, her gaze was as cold and impatient as ever. The little girl’s gaze didn’t linger on me for long either. After giving me a brief look, she continued to hug Aria’s neck tightly. “Jasper Reed, since Mila was born, have you ever truly cared for her? Do you know what color she likes, what food she enjoys, what games she usually plays, or what cartoons she watches?” Aria’s words hit me hard, leaving me speechless. “You’ve never truly cared, not for Mila, not for me.” “All you’ve ever cared about is how to please your ideal love!” With that, she turned away, no longer paying attention to me, and left with our daughter. Recalling Aria’s words, I felt that I was an unqualified existence, both as a husband and as a father. I guess this is probably the reason why Aria wants to divorce me. But what did Aria mean by that “ideal love” she mentioned earlier? Isn’t she my ideal love? 3 A week later, using the excuse that I didn’t want to stay at home anymore, I asked Aria to discharge me from the hospital. Lying on the soft, comfortable memory foam mattress, I stared at the ceiling, feeling a headache coming on. Because I couldn’t remember anything at all. I couldn’t remember how I married Aria, couldn’t remember how we lived after getting married. And I couldn’t remember how we ended up at the point of divorce. However, the divorce agreement on the bedside table undeniably told me one fact – my marriage with Aria seemed to have come to an end without me even noticing. But I clearly liked her so much, liked her enough to willingly guard her silently for five years. Yet her words conveyed another message to me – that after marrying her, I had hooked up with my ideal love? Although I had lost my memory, my ideal love was clearly Aria. How could there possibly be another woman? I had never felt such a headache and frustration before. I directly pulled the covers over my head, burying my entire body under the blanket. “Daddy.” A sweet little voice brought me back to reality. I loosened the blanket and saw Mila standing there with a small fruit platter in her hands, looking at me with her big eyes from afar. The sight of her melted my heart. “Daddy, Mommy said to eat some fruit to get vitamins. That way, you’ll get better faster.” I knew it. Aria still cared about me. She couldn’t bear to ignore me. Thinking this, my gloomy mood brightened like a ray of sunshine breaking through clouds, instantly cheering me up. I beckoned to Mila, gesturing for her to come over. “Daddy’s arm hurts a bit. Can Mila feed Daddy the fruit? I’m sure it’ll taste super delicious if Mila feeds me.” I never imagined that I, the CEO of Reed Enterprises, would have such a sweet-talking day. But the truth is, I really enjoyed this version of myself. Hearing this, Mila’s little oval face twisted for a moment. After pondering for a while, she nodded and took small steps towards me. Then, with her tiny hand, she picked up a piece of apple with the fork and held it up to my mouth. This time, I directly reached out and hugged her entire body. How adorable she was. They say a daughter is her father’s little sweetheart. With such a cute and sweet little sweetheart, why would I ever want a divorce? I’m not divorcing, no way. Mila was clearly not used to such close contact with me. Her body squirmed uncomfortably in my arms, her big eyes, like black pearls, blinking rapidly. She was so beautiful. Looking closely, I could see that her eyebrows were very similar to mine, long and thick. I couldn’t help but admire how perfectly she had inherited Aria’s beauty. Unable to resist, I planted a kiss on her cheek. Mila’s face instantly turned red, her little hands now tightly gripping the fork, looking extremely nervous. I lowered my head and took a bite of the apple, then put the fork back on the fruit platter. “The fruit really does taste better when my little sweetheart feeds me. Daddy likes it very much.” Children are always easily satisfied. Hearing this, she immediately broke into a big smile and then stretched out her arms, hugging my neck tightly. “Then, does Daddy like Mila?” I hadn’t expected her to ask such a question. I nodded. “Of course Daddy likes Mila. I like you very, very much.” The child’s timid question made me feel a pang of sadness. I realized that in the past, I must have neglected her growth. Otherwise, why would she ask me such a question? Just as I was enjoying my daughter’s sweet scent, the door was suddenly pushed open from the outside. Aria stood in front of me, her face cold. “Mommy.” Seeing Aria appear, Mila quickly struggled out of my arms, then bounced on her short legs to Aria’s side, hugging her legs tightly. Aria had clearly just finished washing up. The scent of her shower gel wafted towards me with the evening breeze, making my heart beat faster involuntarily. She bent down slightly, and I caught a glimpse of her cleavage. The next second, I saw her pick up Mila and stand up. I unconsciously swallowed, feeling oddly parched. Aria walked over and mercilessly closed the half-open window, then turned on the air conditioner for me. Due to my injury, I could only temporarily stay in the guest room for this period after returning home. I opened my mouth to thank her. “No need to thank me.” “If you really want to thank me, just sign the divorce papers quickly.” I frowned in disgust. Since I woke up, three out of five sentences from Aria were about divorce. “Aria, I don’t want a divorce.” Hearing this, Aria put down the remote control in her hand and turned to look at me with a deep gaze. Just when I thought she would agree not to divorce me, she suddenly told me: “Jasper Reed, can you stop being so selfish? In this marriage, have you ever considered my feelings?” “I’m not that generous. I can’t pretend everything is fine and continue to be loving with you while you have an ideal love in your heart.” “Don’t worry, after the divorce, I will raise Mila very well. After all, I’ve been the one taking care of her all these years. You’re nothing more than a sperm donor to her.” “Moreover, isn’t me letting go and allowing you to be with her what you want?” Her cold tone made me feel heartbroken. I didn’t say anything more, but silently lay down, turning my back to her. Soon, the sound of footsteps faded away, and with the closing of the door, the room returned to silence. What was the point of being married to Aria if all she thought about was divorcing me? Even the child didn’t seem close to me. I began to doubt whether we would have made this decision if we had known our marriage would turn out like this. The thoughts in my mind made my head throb painfully. I couldn’t sleep, so I got up and walked heavily to the balcony, pushing open the door. In the garden, I saw Aria holding Mila, sitting on a rattan chair, telling her a story. It was such a warm scene. Such a scene that made me reluctant to let go.

After resting at home for a week, I felt my body was almost back to normal. More importantly, I didn’t want to be left alone in the guest room anymore. Having a wife, there was no reason to continue sleeping alone. So that day, I took my pillow and actively walked to the master bedroom. As I pushed open the door to the master bedroom, a whiff of Aria’s unique fragrance hit me, dispelling the gloomy mood I had been in for the past few days. Just then, the bathroom door suddenly opened, and Aria appeared before me, wrapped only in a towel. Her hair was still dripping water, droplets sliding down her body’s curves and disappearing into the towel covering her chest. Having just showered, her cheeks were slightly flushed, making her look incredibly alluring. I quickly suppressed the stirring in my heart and averted my gaze. “Jasper Reed, what are you doing here?!” Aria quickly reacted, grabbing a jacket from the top of the wardrobe and draping it over her shoulders. Her words interrupted my thoughts, and I finally stammered out a response. I almost thought I had become a stutterer. “Uh… Aria, I’m feeling much better now. Can I sleep in the master bedroom?”

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My husband’s family-sponsored girl calls him “daddy”. She claims she can’t bear to see me being kept in the dark by my husband. She deliberately left her underwear in Adrian’s car, trying to lure me into catching him cheating. Afterwards, she even said: “Girls help girls.” It was 8:30 PM, and I was still working overtime at the company. I received a friend request on SnapChat from someone with the username “Microsoft”. The verification message read: “Adrian’s little sister.” Adrian Chen is my husband of two years, whom I’ve known for ten years. I don’t remember him having a sister. Puzzled, I accepted the request. “Mrs. Chen?” The message popped up on my screen. I frowned at the “Mrs.” part. Though I had taken a gap year before college due to poor exam scores, I was still the same age as Adrian. Having just finished my master’s degree and not yet had my birthday, I was only 25. Being called “Mrs.” made me feel like I was already in my thirties or forties. Before I could type “Hello, who is this?”, Microsoft sent another message: “I just met Adrian’s parents! Are you home? We’re on our way back now.” What the hell? My husband took another woman to meet his parents and now they’re coming to our home? “Who are you?” I asked. “I’m Wendy. Oh, Mrs. Chen doesn’t know about me? Does that mean you haven’t prepared a room for me?” I raised an eyebrow. The name Wendy sounded familiar. Glancing at how she added me, I realized Adrian’s mother had sent her my contact. Then it dawned on me. Adrian’s parents had sponsored many students over the years. Wendy was one of them. She got into a prestigious university and became Adrian’s junior. She was now a senior. A few days ago, I heard from my mother-in-law that Wendy was about to start an internship and wanted to visit Adrian’s parents to express her gratitude for years of support. Originally, my mother-in-law had invited both Adrian and me to go back. But since Wendy and I had no connection, and I had just started at the company and wanted to keep up with my colleagues’ progress, I decided to stay behind and work overtime on the project. So tonight, only Adrian went back. But I never expected Adrian to bring her out, let alone to our home. Forget a room, I hadn’t even prepared a sleeping mat. But since she was already here, I couldn’t just turn her away. “I’m working overtime at the company. Ask Adrian to make arrangements for you,” I replied. She quickly responded: “Oh… but Adrian is a guy. Is it appropriate for him to do household chores like making a bed?” “Why don’t I ask him to pick you up from work? He doesn’t seem to be planning to pick you up.” The tea-scented jealousy oozing from the screen stung my eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder if Wendy on the other side of the screen was truly a green tea bitch or just genuinely naive. But since we had never met, I couldn’t jump to conclusions about her. Maybe the young girl was just innocent and straightforward, speaking without thinking. Besides, Adrian indeed wasn’t going to pick me up today. So I directly refused Wendy’s offer. To my surprise, Wendy misinterpreted my intentions. “Are you mad at Adrian?” “He didn’t mean to forget to pick you up. It’s probably because I’m with him, so he forgot about it!” I sent a string of ellipses. “No, he knows I drove.” Adrian’s call came at just the right moment. After explaining tonight’s situation, he asked me to come home. After that, Wendy stopped replying. To be honest, after our earlier conversation, I was also curious about Wendy. So I immediately drove home. As soon as I entered, I saw a short-haired girl sitting on the couch. She turned her head and smiled sweetly at me. “Mrs. Chen, you’re back! Don’t be shy, come sit down.” Her tone and posture made it seem like I was the guest. I scanned the living room and asked, “Where’s Adrian?” Just then, the sound of a door unlocking came from the hallway. Adrian walked out of the room. Seeing this, Wendy suddenly stood up. She ran over and clung to Adrian’s arm. Her voice carried a hint of coquettish complaint: “Adrian, you left me alone in the living room for so long, long enough for Mrs. Chen to come back!” Adrian’s usually cold face was suddenly clouded with a layer of dark annoyance. He shook off Wendy’s hand. “Don’t you know better?” “You’ve been giggling non-stop since we got in the car. It’s annoying as hell.” Back in high school, Adrian had been nicknamed the “Mute Groom.” With an extremely cold and aloof face, he rarely spoke. He was once considered the unapproachable flower of our year. But whenever he did speak, 80% of the time it was to scold someone. I knew this all too well. As Wendy was being scolded, I even gave her a sympathetic look. Wendy pouted. Her watery eyes blinked twice. It seemed like something was about to fall from her eyes. “I… I was just so happy to be living with you, Adrian. Did I cause you trouble…?” Adrian crossed his arms and stepped back against the wall. “Don’t you know better?” “You were too scared to stay at a hotel, insisted there were ghosts and you didn’t have the guts, then changed your tune once we got in the car. If you’re not tired of it, I sure am.” I couldn’t help but cover my mouth and laugh. How did Adrian manage to rhyme while scolding her so seriously? Wendy tearfully looked down. “That’s because I’m scared to stay alone… If you don’t stay with me, that’s why I…” In all the years I’ve known Adrian, I’ve never called him “honey” or any pet names. Not only is it sickening, but there’s also a high chance of getting scolded. But Wendy obviously didn’t know this. She kept calling him “honey” non-stop. Meanwhile, I sat on the couch watching the show, even snacking on some sunflower seeds. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed a blanket from the guest room. He tossed it onto the long couch. “You’re sleeping here tonight, and first thing tomorrow morning, you’re going out to rent your own place.” With that said, Adrian glared at me resentfully, then angrily turned and went into the room. Wendy lowered her head and looked at me tearfully. “Mrs. Chen, are you just going to watch Adrian bully me like this?” “Adrian wants to kick me out, aren’t you going to talk him out of it?” “We’re both girls, aren’t you going to help me?” I paused in my sunflower seed snacking. What does this have to do with me? But since she brought it up, I had no reason not to help her. I grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds and put them in her hand. She blinked in confusion: “What does this mean?” While continuing to eat sunflower seeds, I said, “These are sunflower seeds from Adrian’s home. Take them with you tomorrow. Whenever you miss him, just eat some seeds. That way you’ll feel like he’s by your side.” Wendy’s mouth twitched visibly. Then she quickly regained her composure. She turned and said, “Then… can I sleep with you tonight?” I shrugged. Gladly accepting. I didn’t mind Wendy sleeping with me. But when she stepped into the room, she froze in place. I turned and asked her why she wasn’t coming in. She gave me a questioning look. “Mrs. Chen… don’t you sleep with Adrian?” Oh, so she wanted the three of us to sleep together. Too bad. Although Adrian and I have been married for two years, I went abroad for my master’s degree right after getting our marriage certificate, and only returned last month. Because the change in our relationship status was so sudden, and we rarely saw each other during that time, we didn’t know how to get along, so we’ve been sleeping in separate rooms. Wendy’s expression froze for a moment. Then she immediately put on a relieved smile. “Oh, so Adrian doesn’t sleep with Mrs. Chen.” I was just watching all this for entertainment. But her constant passive-aggressive meddling all evening was starting to annoy me. I casually covered myself with the blanket, keeping my head still but glancing down at her standing by the bed. Deliberately putting on a creepy cold face, I asked her: “Do you know why?” “Why?” I said lightly: “I have an aunt on my body that he can see after midnight.” As soon as I said this. Wendy froze in place. I decided to quit while I was ahead. “But don’t worry, you should be fine if you’re asleep.” No matter what Wendy was thinking. I didn’t have the energy to tease her anymore. After saying that, I started feeling drowsy. But at 3 AM. A loud crashing sound suddenly came from outside. It sounded like a door slamming into a wall, startling me awake. I instinctively reached under my pillow for a knife, but grasped at nothing. Then I remembered I was in China. Next, a woman’s crying voice drifted in from outside the door. “Waaah… Adrian, why did you push me? You didn’t lock the door, doesn’t that mean you left it open for me on purpose?” This logic would be considered explosive even in the world of arguments. When I came out. Wendy was sobbing non-stop, hunching her shoulders and trying to grab Adrian’s sleeve. Adrian was rubbing his brow, clearly struggling to contain his anger. “I don’t need to explain to you why I didn’t lock the door.” “If an armored truck’s door is open, are you going to go explore inside?” “If a hearse’s door is open, are you going to lie down in it?” I leaned against the wall. As they remained at an impasse, I yawned sleepily. Wendy’s little tricks were obvious even to Adrian. Let alone to someone like me who had pursued Adrian for years. The reason I couldn’t be bothered to deal with this mess Wasn’t just because I trusted Adrian wouldn’t cheat. More so, I was still upset with him. The reason I chose to go abroad for my master’s degree back then Was because of something he said. “Don’t rely on me too much, you need to learn to be independent. Your life belongs to you, not as an appendage of mine.” At the time I thought it was just an excuse for him to push me away. Later when my world expanded, I finally understood what he meant. I really was boy-crazy back then. Ever since my father who raised me passed away when I was in 9th grade, and I moved in with Adrian’s family. He became like a second father to me. His parents treated me like their own daughter too. So I continued on with my usual stupidity, being foolish and short-sighted. Thinking that as long as I could be Adrian’s wife, my life would be complete. But friends in college made me realize the world wasn’t like I had imagined. Women don’t have to rely on men, and I don’t have to rely on Adrian. So I gradually started trying to reduce my dependence on him. And when he said those words, it hit me right in the heart, making me think he really didn’t want me around. I gathered the courage to leave him. Who knew that after I got my grad school acceptance letter. He would drag me to the civil affairs office in the middle of the night to wait. We stayed up all night to get our marriage certificate. When I boarded the flight to Philadelphia that day. I still hadn’t recovered from the shock of suddenly being married. So not only did we not have a married life. We didn’t even have a dating process. It was as hasty as my 48-point math score on the college entrance exam. Even after I understood his intentions. Most of the reason I was still upset was just because I felt my past self was so embarrassing, and now I couldn’t back down. Wendy followed me back to the room. As soon as she came in, she wiped away her tears and looked up at me with a smile. “Mrs. Chen, how was my performance just now?” I was stunned. Seeing her very self-satisfied expression, I frowned. I don’t understand, is there a PhD who can interpret this? Wendy smiled smugly, Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Mrs. Chen, you may be older, but you’re not as experienced as me.” “For a man like Adrian, if you want him to be interested in you, you have to learn to control his emotions.” “See, I’ve already made him have an emotional reaction to me.” Her words Were enough to make my expression turn into “subway, elderly, cell phone”. Even a PhD couldn’t interpret her meaning. We need a post-doc to explain. I was a bit speechless. But my phone buzzed just then. Adrian had sent me a message. “Come over, don’t sleep with her.” When in Rome, do as the Romans do. I was happy to comply. I thought Adrian called me over to lecture me. But to my surprise, the first thing he asked was: “Sorry, did I make you unhappy?” His sudden display of manners caught me off guard. I shook my head. Adrian continued: “She wasn’t like this before.” Wasn’t like this before? I don’t remember them knowing each other before. Adrian explained that years ago, he had accompanied his father to visit some of the sponsored students’ homes. Wendy was one of them. But Wendy wasn’t called Wendy back then. Her personality was also lively and cheerful. Before she turned 18, her name was Xiaojuan Wu. After 18 she changed her name. For some unknown reason, she became like she is now. I wasn’t very interested in Wendy’s past. Although she had been passive-aggressive towards me all night, verbal attacks couldn’t cause real harm. She was just a young girl who hadn’t entered society yet. Wasn’t I just as annoying to Adrian back then? Why should I bother with her? Besides, she was leaving tomorrow. She was supposedly going to intern at Adrian’s company. As long as she didn’t cause any trouble, I would try my best to ignore her. However, reality proved me wrong. On Wendy’s first day at work. She parachuted in as an executive assistant, causing a stir in the project department. Olivia, who sat next to me, nudged me with her elbow. “Zoe, did you hear? The new executive assistant was pushed in by the CEO’s office.” “Do you think she might be a big shot’s daughter coming to experience working life?” I was busy working on sketches for a new project and didn’t look up as I said I wasn’t sure. Olivia sighed softly. She was about to say something else when someone tapped her. She immediately turned her head and started gossiping in a low voice. After just a few minutes, she turned back to me and leaned in close. Lowering her voice, she said: “Zoe, I just heard some big gossip, but don’t tell anyone!” “The new executive assistant is actually Adrian’s fiancée!” Wait. What did she say? My interest was piqued, and I put down my stylus. “Which Adrian?” “THE Adrian! Adrian Chen!” Speechless. The gossip had come to my own doorstep. No one at the company knew about my relationship with Adrian. Even if I said it, no one would believe it. The wife of Adrian Chen was just a regular employee in the project department, not even a team leader. But everyone in the company knew Adrian was married. I tried to gently correct her, attempting to shake off the hat on my head. “Fiancée? But I heard he’s already married?” But as soon as I said this. The situation suddenly developed in an even more ridiculous direction. “Oh right! I forgot about that!” Olivia had a sudden realization: “So that means… the new executive assistant is Adrian’s wife!” I stared at her for a few seconds. I had zero desire to explain. When I looked back, I saw the door of the project department being pushed open from the outside. Wendy walked in carrying several bags of coffee. She smiled as she distributed coffee to her colleagues. However. I noticed her actions were very strange. Olivia noticed too. She leaned over and whispered to me: “Isn’t that the executive assistant?” “Why is she being picky about who gets coffee?” “Except for Manager Lee, she didn’t give any to the technical staff.” It’s not that we were craving her coffee. But in a row of workstations, everyone got coffee except for one person. This scene was inevitably awkward. But Wendy didn’t seem to think so. When she came to my and Olivia’s workstations, she had already given out all the coffee. She had clearly checked the number of people in the project department beforehand. She stood in front of me. Placing a stack of Starbucks paper bags on my desk. “Mrs. Chen, please throw these away.” ? I looked at her in bewilderment. “Why?” Wendy relaxed her shoulders, crossed her arms, and smiled with pursed lips. “Input and output should be proportional.” “Mrs. Chen has a high salary, so of course you should do more than others!” How did she know my salary was high? Oh. She’s the executive assistant to the project department manager, so she would have access to see the department staff’s pay stubs. Before I could speak. She put on a fair and just expression. Looking around at everyone, she said: “The technical staff have high monthly salaries, which other colleagues can’t compare to.” “So there’s no coffee for you today!” “Oh, and for fairness, to create a good work atmosphere and promote relationships between colleagues, I propose—” “From now on, the technical staff should pool money every afternoon to buy afternoon tea for the office colleagues.” Is this human speech? Even capitalists would be ashamed of themselves. Does Wendy have any emotional intelligence? Not only is she openly flaunting salary differences in the office. She also wants to exploit the technical staff. Does she think the computer will automatically generate our final draft that we’ve revised 800 times just by sitting in the chair? The whole industry knows. Us concept artists, 3D modelers and other technical staff earn hair transplant money. $3000 is what I deserve. I even think Adrian is paying me too little. I stood up and stuffed the stack of bags back into Wendy’s hands. “Miss Wu, you’re so kind.” I gratefully grabbed her arm. Taking advantage of her showing a smug smile, I blurted out: “Then please lead by example and buy afternoon tea for a month. I’ll definitely send you a banner calling you one of China’s most touching philanthropists.” As soon as I finished speaking. The previously quiet office erupted in a wave of murmurs. Probably seeing the tension between Wendy and me, Olivia tugged at me gently, signaling me not to offend her. At the impasse, a sudden booming male voice broke the deadlock. “I support Miss Wu’s proposal! I’ll be the first to do it!” The speaker was Manager Lee. Getting support, Wendy immediately puffed out her chest. “You—” she pointed at me: “Come to my office.” With that, she turned and left. Anyone with eyes could see the situation. The nail that sticks out gets hammered down. This Miss Wu was going to make things difficult for me. Her arrogant attitude really made it hard for me not to wonder who exactly gave her such great power. It was outrageous that as an intern, she shamelessly acted like an unscrupulous capitalist. I followed her into the secretary’s office. Wendy sat in the swivel chair, looking down at me haughtily. “Zoe Chen, I called you Mrs. Chen earlier out of respect for Adrian.” “But now I’m your superior, you’d better apologize to me in front of everyone before I get angry.” I couldn’t help but smile. I casually found a chair to sit down, looking her in the eye, and brought up another topic. “I’m very curious, why does everyone say you’re Adrian’s fiancée?” Wendy snorted lightly. “You still don’t know what my relationship with Adrian is, do you?” “I’m his child bride~” “What?!” I couldn’t help but exclaim in disbelief. “If not, then why would his family keep giving me money, let me go to school, and even help me get into Adrian’s company?” “Isn’t that basically acknowledging my relationship with Adrian?” ? By her logic. Anyone who was sponsored would be a child bride. Then Adrian would have a sea of “child brides”. She didn’t seem to realize at all that there was a problem with what she was saying. She looked me up and down. “Hurry up and apologize, or else when Adrian and I get married, you’ll be in for it!” I didn’t understand. I asked her back: “You know we’re married, so do you know what this behavior is called?” She shrugged, looking nonchalant: “You want to say I’m the other woman, right?” “But let me tell you, love doesn’t care who came first. The one who isn’t loved is the other woman.” “Adrian marrying you was a long time ago when he was young and didn’t know any better. He chose the wrong person. Besides, he’s realized now that I’m the best.” She leaned forward, smiling provocatively: “Just wait, soon you’ll be the other woman.” Life has taught me one thing. Education level, zodiac sign, etc. cannot determine a person’s character and personality. Some people are smart and hardworking, but their brains have problems. Because of Wendy’s past, Adrian and I had been trying hard to tolerate her. But she was getting more and more outrageous. When she said “I’m a dream girl”, I even doubted my own ears. But at this moment, I suddenly understood. So, she’s Adrian’s… delusional fan? When I told Adrian about this. He suddenly looked at me with clear yet stupid eyes. “You’re not a dream girl?” “…If it’s a fictional character, why would I be a dream girl? Moreover, you’re not a fictional character.” After I finished speaking

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After five years of marriage, my wife’s childhood friend posted a property deed on his Facebook Feeds. He captioned it: “Thanks to my boss lady for transferring the house to me.” I stared in shock at the deed with my home address on it, and I commented with a simple “?” My wife, Seraphina “Sera” Jade, immediately called to scold me: “He’s a single dad; he’s so pitiful. I only transferred the house to help his daughter with school later; it doesn’t affect our living situation.” “How can you be so heartless, showing no sympathy at all?” On the other end, I could hear the sad complaints from her childhood friend, Jasper “Jazz” Caldwell. Half an hour later, he posted again, tagging me. This time, he flaunted a brand-new Luxury Mercedes-Benz. “Paid in full. As the saying goes, where a woman spends her money, that’s where her heart is.” I knew this was a gift from Sera to placate him. But this time, I decided I was going to divorce her. …… When Sera came home, I swallowed a capsule of medication with a slice of birthday cake. This was the medication I had to take after my gastric tumor removal. It was my birthday, and I had prepared a cake, waiting for Sera to return home, wanting to tell her that I had undergone surgery while she was away on business. I waited until 7 PM; she didn’t answer my calls or reply to my messages. The moment I commented on Jazz’s post about the property deed, Sera called me back, launching into a tirade. I tried to explain, but she hung up and blocked me. I was so furious that my stitched-up wound felt like it was tearing open again. Sera glanced at the medication and the cake on the dining table, frowning: “Whose birthday is it? Yours?” I silently put the medication away and tossed the cake in the trash, calmly saying, “Not mine, it’s for a friend.” She sighed with relief: “I remember your birthday is on September 28th; today is only the 8th.” Five years of marriage, and Sera had always mixed up my birthday. Ironically, she seemed to remember someone else’s birthday just fine. Sera sat next to me and handed me a small toy car: “Jazz asked me to give you this; he was scared by your sarcasm today, and you need to apologize to him.” The toy car had a Mercedes-Benz logo on it. It was probably a promotional item from the car purchase, with a noticeable grease stain on it. I replied flatly: “I don’t want it.” Sera frowned, displeased: “What are you being so proud about? He was scared and came to make amends, and you can’t even apologize to him?” Seeing that I wasn’t budging, Sera tried to pull me up to call Jazz. She yanked me up with such force that my injured leg bumped against the cold coffee table. That was the same leg Sera had burned a week ago. She had been walking out of the kitchen with a pot of scalding porridge, distractedly replying to Jazz’s messages, and had accidentally spilled it all over my right foot, burning the skin badly. Seeing blood seeping from my right foot again, Sera panicked: “I’ll take you to the hospital.” I didn’t refuse: “Okay.” As soon as I got into the car, the Bluetooth speaker came to life with Jazz’s soft, playful voice. “Welcome back, my boss lady! Work hard to earn more money for me to spend!” Sera’s expression shifted slightly: “Jazz left that in my car last time; I threw it out.” “No need.” I replied indifferently. The car quickly fell into silence. Sera looked at me, surprised: “Aren’t you angry?” I pursed my lips. I used to care about Jazz a lot. Now, I didn’t even care about Sera; how could I care about her little puppy? “Just drive; it’s getting late.” We only needed to make a U-turn and drive a mile straight to the hospital, but Sera’s phone rang. When she answered, a smile appeared on her face. I recognized Jazz’s voice as he sweet-talked her into taking him for a ride in the new Mercedes. “There’s a little urgency with Jazz; I’ll drop you off here, just cross the street, it’s only fifty meters.” Sera didn’t even want to turn around; she couldn’t wait to see Jazz. I glared at her coldly: “I can’t walk.” Sera’s expression turned cold: “Can’t you be less dramatic? You’re hurt, not disabled!” She opened the passenger door and forcefully dragged me out of the car, telling me to call her when I had my medicine sorted. The car sped away, splashing dirty water all over my injured foot. The sky started to drizzle lightly, leaving me soaked and looking a mess. Fifty meters felt like a marathon; after just a few steps, I was drenched in cold sweat. The wetness aggravated the pain from my freshly stitched abdomen, and my leg buckled as I collapsed onto the crosswalk. Numerous cars sped by, and if it weren’t for the kind security guard at the hospital helping me up, I might have been hit by one. Finally back from the hospital, I lay down, and Sera stormed in: “Didn’t I say to call me when you had your medicine sorted? I waited for you at the hospital entrance for a whole hour, and your phone was off the entire time!” I stared at her blankly.

I had been on an IV for two hours in the hospital, and when I came out, I didn’t see Sera’s car. I was feeling miserable and had no choice but to take a taxi home. My phone had only just died two minutes ago. In short, she hadn’t come to pick me up at all. When did Sera, who used to care for me meticulously, start to become distant and cold? “You blocked me; I couldn’t call you.” Sera paused, her anger slightly fading: “I knew you’d be hungry, so I brought you some late-night snacks—skinny rice porridge.” I looked at the bowl of porridge. It was just sprinkled with some scallions, hardly any rice or meat, more like leftovers from someone else’s meal. Half an hour ago, I had seen Jazz’s post. The picture showed Sera cooking porridge in the kitchen: “Who says there are no good women in the world? Not only did she take me for a midnight ride in her Mercedes, but when I was hungry, she also cooked me porridge. It smells amazing!” I stirred it self-deprecatingly, feeling a wave of nausea: “Throw it away; I don’t want it.” Sera’s expression darkened instantly as she glared at me coldly: “What’s wrong with you? I brought this especially for you, and you just want to throw it away?” “Am I wrong for being upset that I just transferred the house to Jazz today? It doesn’t mean you can’t live there. His child has a place to go to school now, and all I got was a thank you post on Facebook. You went and left your sarcastic comments; did I hold that against you?” My abdominal stitches were barely healed, and now my leg was re-injured; I felt utterly exhausted: “You misunderstood me; I was just surprised that his property deed had our address on it…” Sera interrupted impatiently: “Misunderstood? Jazz is right about you! You always fly off the handle over nothing, with no grace or tolerance. If I so much as talk to another man, you become paranoid! I think the issue lies with you!” If it were earlier, I might have argued back, trying to get her to understand the real me. Now I just stared at her coldly. Once she finished her hysterical rant, I slowly said: “Are you done? Could you please turn off the lights?” She shot me a dark look and slammed the door on her way out, leaving the lights on. Seconds later, the sound of another door slamming echoed from the living room. In the past, when she would sleep at Jazz’s place after a fight, I’d lie awake all night. Tonight, however, I fell asleep comfortably on my own. The next day, I contacted a friend for a lawyer and consulted about divorce proceedings. Since that door-slam, Sera had disappeared for three days. The next time I saw her was in a travel photo shared by her friend Felicity “Flick” Hart. In the picture, she and a few friends posed together, with Jazz standing beside Sera, both in matching outfits, Jazz’s youthful face beaming with joy. I quietly liked the photo. Sera, who had been MIA, called me back in an instant: “I’ll pick you up later to go to the beach and introduce you to my friends.” After a pause, she added: “Actually, I didn’t have to invite you; this is a reward for how well you’ve been behaving lately.” “Sure.” The divorce was already in motion; I didn’t want to stir things up with her. Sera came to pick me up as promised, but strangely, Jazz didn’t show up to cause a scene today. Once we reached the beach, Flick came over to greet me: “Last time was my gathering, sorry for not giving you a heads-up. I’ll punish myself with three drinks later.” Flick’s acknowledgment elevated my status in front of everyone. I offered a perfunctory smile: “Been busy with company matters recently.” “I heard you managed to persuade some elite talents to open a branch in Willow Springs; congratulations!” Flick continued to shower me with compliments. I smiled slightly: “That’s the plan, but it’s still uncertain.” As I spoke, Sera marched over, glaring at me: “You’re going to Willow Springs? Why didn’t you tell me? Did I permit you to go?” I turned my head, calmly gazing at her furious face. The atmosphere around us froze again. Sera was still loudly questioning me, while Flick could only awkwardly attempt to lighten the mood, suggesting we head to the barbecue. The server quickly set up the grill, and Sera sat beside me, a rare look of panic flashing across her pretty face: “I’ve already told Jazz that once his kid graduates from elementary school, we’ll transfer the house back.” “Don’t be upset; it’s my house, and I don’t have to explain it to you.” “Oh.” I nodded calmly. Before long, a familiar handsome figure walked toward us, and my smile froze. A girl I had never met but who was close to Flick and Sera jumped up, excitedly waving at Jazz: “Brother-in-law, brother-in-law, Sera’s here, hurry over!” In an instant, everyone around us gasped.

Flick kicked the girl, angrily scolding her for her lack of awareness. “I’m going to the restroom.” I slowly stood up, not wanting to explode in front of everyone, just wanting to keep some semblance of dignity between us. Sera glanced at me and then at Jazz, but she ultimately didn’t follow me. When I returned, everyone had eaten and sat down on the beach. Jazz and Sera were sitting close together, their postures intimate. I quietly found a spot to sit off to the side. Flick again tried to lighten the mood: “Alright, let’s play a game of Truth or Dare!” In the first round, Sera won, and Jazz lost. Jazz chose truth, and Sera let him off easy, asking him what he had been happy about lately. Jazz blinked and gazed at Sera affectionately: “I met a wonderful woman; in just one day, I have a house and a car. By the way, she even took me for a midnight ride in her new Mercedes-Benz to unwind.” After saying that, Jazz smirked at me triumphantly. Most people present knew exactly how Jazz had gotten that house and car, but everyone typically turned a blind eye, knowing yet saying nothing. However, Jazz bringing these matters to light changed everything. The atmosphere thickened again; even Flick felt a bit awkward. Noticing that I wasn’t getting angry, Flick forced herself to keep the ball rolling: “Alright, it’s time for the second round, and look, it’s our handsome Ethan’s turn.” When it was my turn, Jazz was the one to impose a penalty on me. “Truth,” I said flatly. Jazz approached me with a drink in hand: “Ethan, let’s play big, how about a dare?” I frowned, alarm bells ringing: “I choose truth.” “Let’s do a dare; I won’t make it hard on you. I heard Sera say you’re an excellent swimmer. Just swim a lap for us!” Jazz smirked as he looked at my abdomen. I firmly refused: “I’m not feeling well; I can’t swim.” Jazz looked at Sera with a pitiful gaze, and Sera, slightly annoyed, said: “You’re a level-two athlete; swimming is your specialty; how could you not swim? A few days ago, he apologized to you; now he’s trying to make amends. You showing him a swim will not cost you anything!” Sera insisted, ignoring my struggles, pushing me towards the beach along with Jazz. Jazz skillfully removed my jacket while taking a swig from a bottle of alcohol: “Ethan, I toast to you; now it’s your turn to shine.” With a drink in hand, I felt like I was being put on a spit to roast. I grew impatient: “I said I didn’t want to swim; forcing me while you drink isn’t fair. Why can’t I choose truth?” Jazz pouted, glancing at Sera. Sera’s expression darkened instantly. She slammed the bottle of alcohol into the sand: “What’s your problem? Swimming is your forte; he’s not making it hard on you; he’s even punishing himself with a drink! Why are you being so ungrateful?” Looking at Sera, the “damsel saving the hero,” and at Jazz, whose eyes were reddening, I replied coldly: “Did I force him to drink? I told him I didn’t want to swim, and he’s still pushing me; isn’t that the definition of being difficult?” I shot back three times, causing Jazz to burst into tears. Sera’s expression turned dark as she rolled up her pants. “Not swimming, huh? Fine, I’ll swim with you!” With everyone staring in shock, Sera grabbed my ear and forcefully pushed me into the water. The cold seeped into my wound, making my scalp tingle with chill; in the next moment, seawater rushed into my nose, and I choked violently. Sera still didn’t let go; she and Jazz held me down. I felt like I was suffocating, my eyes turning red from discomfort as tears and snot streamed down my face. When it felt like my lungs were about to explode, I desperately tried to push Sera away; finally, she let go. Unfortunately, a big wave crashed in just then, and as I tried to grab Sera’s pant leg, she kicked me away. I was swept into the sea, icy water engulfing me completely. After what felt like an eternity, I finally swam with all my strength to the shore, gasping for fresh air. Meanwhile, Sera was gently rubbing Jazz’s head, soothing him with patience and warmth: “Don’t be sad; I punished him.” “He deserves it; I’ll teach him a lesson later.” Then, she walked up to me, looking down from above: “Apologize to Jazz! You owe him a drink! Otherwise, we…” In the midst of everyone’s shocked gazes and Sera’s demanding eyes, I interrupted, my eyes reddening: “Sera, wait for my lawyer to contact you; we’re getting a divorce.” With that, Sera stared at me in disbelief, her dark eyes filled with shock. I felt weak as I took a few steps forward. When I reached the main road, everything went black, and I collapsed. Before losing consciousness, I heard someone nearby shouting: “Someone’s passed out!” “Call an ambulance! Oh my God, he’s bleeding a lot from his abdomen!”

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My father is the CEO of the country’s largest media company, my mother is a retired Golden Globe-winning actress, and my brother is a top celebrity. As soon as I entered college, gossip news spread that the youngest daughter of Reed Media’s CEO had enrolled in a prestigious drama school. My roommate, desperate for fame, rushed to claim the title: “Thank you all for your attention! I want to study quietly and hope not to affect others.” A few days later, it was revealed that Reed Media’s little princess was actually someone else! “Thank you, media friends, for your attention! I’ve just started my four-year college journey and would like to study quietly for now. I hope everyone won’t pay too much attention, and I hope my fans will behave and not disturb others.” I looked at the SnapChat post from my roommate Yvonne Shaw and couldn’t help but laugh. What a drama queen. Wasn’t acting in movies enough? Now she’s trying to act in my life? It all started on the first day of school when some small media outlet, without checking with my dad’s company, broke the news that “Reed Media CEO’s youngest daughter enrolled in a prestigious drama school.” Anyone who’s been in the industry for a while knows that Reed Media’s chairman’s youngest daughter is a sensitive topic and absolutely off-limits for reporting. I didn’t expect someone would dare to poke the bear. What I expected even less was that someone would be so desperate for fame that they’d try to piggyback on my dad’s name. That person was my new college roommate, Yvonne Shaw. She did have the prerequisite to pretend – her surname was Shaw, and my dad’s surname was also Shaw. What a coincidence, right? Yvonne had starred in a web series and shot to fame with her pure and lovely image, gaining five million fans overnight. When school started, she was already voted the most popular girl on campus, trending in the top ten on Twitter. When people heard that Yvonne was in the Acting Department’s Class 1, the class group chat exploded like boiling water. “Our goddess is here!” “Wow, will we get to act opposite the campus beauty?” … Now, seeing this trending topic, my roommates looked at Yvonne with envious eyes and tried to curry favor: “Yvonne, I can’t believe you’re the CEO of Reed Media’s daughter. My God, it’s like having a big shot right next to me!” “Oh my, Yvonne, doesn’t that mean Sean Reed is your brother? Can I get an autograph?” “Yvonne, your family will definitely arrange great resources for you in the future, right? Please take me with you! I’ll be happy just playing your maid!” … Listening to all this flattery and praise, I couldn’t help but sneer. What kind of daydream is this? Sean Reed is MY brother! By blood! Autographs are easy, but I’m afraid that “maid” role might be hard to come by. My family’s projects aren’t for just anyone. A freshman who just entered college, not even a real actress yet, instead of thinking about how to attend classes and hone her acting skills, is thinking about taking shortcuts all day. If we gave you a supporting role with lines now, could you even handle it? I opened my account and posted on the trending topic. “Some people, not even famous, but love to leech off others.” A few of Yvonne’s fans found their way to my Twitter and started cursing: “Who the hell are you talking about?” “Yeah, we’re talking about you. Don’t try to ride on our Yvonne’s coattails.” I couldn’t be bothered to respond. The truth will come out eventually. Probably because my sneer didn’t sit well with her, Wendy, the roommate who wanted a role, sarcastically said: “What are you laughing at? Some people aren’t that good-looking and don’t have such a good family background, yet still act all high and mighty.” Another person chimed in: “Exactly, I don’t know what she’s pretending to be.” Haha, if I told you, you’d be scared to death. All those “husbands” you like have to bow and scrape before me. All their exclusive autographs and merchandise fill up the basement storage in my house. I get their warm greetings on every holiday, afraid that I might forget about them one day. Yvonne said gently: “We’re all classmates. Although some classmates might not have good family backgrounds, we’re all here chasing our acting dreams. We should work hard together and not discriminate.” Wendy shook her head: “Oh, Yvonne, you’re just too kind. But you know, everyone has their own status. Some people need to know their place.” “Skylar, you don’t even have a single designer item on you. Your family must not be well-off, right? How can you compare to Yvonne? In the future, you need to know your place.” Yvonne interjected again: “Let it go, let’s not compare.” Just then, my dad called. I couldn’t be bothered with them anymore and went to the balcony to answer the phone. “Hello, is my baby girl okay? Daddy just saw the trending topic and immediately had it taken down. It won’t affect you.” Hearing the word “baby” come out of the mouth of my dad, a dignified middle-aged man, really gave me goosebumps. “No, no, don’t take it down yet. Just leave it.” “Really? Are you sure you’re not upset, baby?” “I’m fine.” I want to see what other tricks she has up her sleeve. “When are you coming home? Daddy misses you so much.” Three black lines almost materialized on top of my head. “It’s only the third day of school.” Can someone please control this daughter-obsessed dad? It’s exhausting. My name is Skylar Reed. My father is the CEO of the country’s largest media company, my mother is a retired Golden Globe-winning actress, and my brother is a top celebrity. The reason I have a different last name is because I took my mom’s surname. When she was pregnant with her second child, she insisted that the baby should take her surname to prove my dad loved her. My dad, who loves and fears my mom, naturally agreed. Plus, when I was little, I got lost among my mom’s fans while out playing with her. A crazy fan secretly took me into the women’s restroom. I vaguely remember that psycho fan kept taking pictures of me with their phone in the restroom until my family found me three hours later. So I developed psychological trauma, resulting in fear of crowds and claustrophobia. Whenever I was in crowded or dark places, I would easily have emotional breakdowns, crying and screaming. For the first few years, I couldn’t be left alone at all and had to sleep with a night light on. After seeing a therapist for several years, I finally recovered. So, my parents have always been very protective of my privacy and made it clear to all major media outlets that any photos of me must be deleted. Taking my mom’s surname works well too. Reed is a common name that doesn’t stand out, which allowed me to live like a normal person for ten years. I didn’t expect to lose the “opportunity” to be known as my dad’s daughter. I don’t like wearing luxury brands covered in logos all over. It feels so tacky. Many of my clothes are specially designed by my aunt who does fashion design in Europe. They’re one-of-a-kind pieces that even royalty can’t buy. I’ve always kept a low profile and never let my family appear at my school. The night before school started, my dad paced back and forth in my room, my mom sat on my bed wiping away tears, and my brother dutifully helped me pack. The three of them kept bombarding me with questions. “Baby, why don’t I send you to school tomorrow?” I coldly replied, “No way. If you go, the entire school leadership will probably surround you.” “Then let mom go with you. I’ve been out of the spotlight for so long, no one will notice.” “You’re lying. Last week I saw that famous Director Li come to our house to give you a script, begging you to come out of retirement.” “Then how about your brother…” “You don’t even need to mention it. If you go, my entire dorm building will be surrounded by your crazy fans.” Thinking of such a scene, I shuddered. After experiencing many hypnotherapy sessions, I only have a vague impression of what happened when I was little, but I still can’t face crowds calmly. Better to avoid it if possible. Seeing my firm attitude, they had to give up. On the first day of school, our butler Mr. Lin drove me to school in our family’s cheapest car used for grocery shopping. He dressed like an ordinary old man, very low-key when we arrived at school. The butler has worked for our family for over twenty years and watched me grow up. I’ve always treated him like an elder. Although he looks older and dresses plainly, he’s a proper working professional. My family pays him a high salary. I didn’t expect that in their eyes, it turned into evidence that my family wasn’t well-off. Yvonne and I didn’t have much conflict at first. It was just that when the campus beauty vote happened, I barely made it onto the list, and she felt I stole her spotlight. Since then, she’s always been passive-aggressive, either mocking my family background or saying I have no sense of style. Ever since Yvonne posted that ambiguous SnapChat, she’s been treated like a queen. My roommates all flocked around her, and our dorm automatically formed a barrier. When I returned to the dorm after class, I saw Yvonne come back with a pile of gifts and a bag of letters. Wendy immediately rushed over, carefully took the things from her hands, and picked up a few beautifully packaged gifts. “Wow, a Cartier bracelet, it looks so expensive.” “And an LV bag, I’ve wanted this handbag for so long, waaah.” “Wow, this perfume is from Chanel’s limited collection.” “Huh, why are there a pair of slippers? These slippers don’t even look that good…” Wendy muttered, and Yvonne overheard. She rolled her eyes. “Look carefully, these are Fendi, over $1,000 a pair. You really don’t know anything.” “What? So expensive.” Wendy exclaimed. Yvonne picked out a bottle of Dior perfume and tossed it to Wendy, “Here, it’s yours.” Wendy held the perfume like a treasure, curiously asking. “Who sent you all these gifts?” Yvonne said proudly, “Who else? All from my fans, of course.” I coldly observed their showing off, secretly turning on my phone’s voice recorder. “Every time I say no verbally, but hint a little on social media, they still send stuff anyway.” Yvonne continued. “It’s just that they spend money on unnecessary things. Last birthday they even bought me a star. Just a stupid star in the sky, you know?” “I think it’s such a waste. You can’t see or touch it. It would make me happier if they spent that money on luxury goods instead.” “Every time they stuff a bunch of letters in too. What era is this?” “I’m too lazy to read books, let alone their letters. How naive.” I really feel bad for these fans. The money their parents work hard to earn, these kids use to chase celebrities. And all their heartfelt gestures, the celebrity doesn’t even care about. They only care if your money reaches their account. Yvonne took a lipstick and walked up to me. “Skylar, I see you have so few cosmetics. This lipstick color suits you well, I’ll give it to you.” I coldly refused. “No need. I don’t need it. You should cherish the gifts from others.” Wendy angrily said. “You’re so ungrateful. Yvonne is taking pity on you and you don’t even appreciate it.” “I don’t think you deserve to use such good lipstick. Just stick to your drugstore brands.” What’s wrong with drugstore brands? There are great domestic brands too. Lipstick is one of those things where the price is artificially inflated, mainly due to brand markup. I said seriously. “Don’t look down on domestic brands. We’re all talking about developing national products now, and many brands are doing very well.” “Not everything expensive is good. As long as the lipstick is properly produced and works well, it’s worth buying.” Although my family is rich, we don’t worship all foreign brands. For example, some T-shirts, the cotton from our country is very good. And silk pajamas, custom-made from a family workshop in Suzhou that doesn’t sell to the public. Their ancestors made clothes for the Empress Dowager Cixi, and the imperial craftsmanship has been passed down. All year round, they only make clothes for a few top wealthy families. In this world, what you can buy isn’t necessarily the best. Wendy rolled her eyes, looking at me with disdain. “A country bumpkin is just a country bumpkin. I can’t be bothered to talk to you.” They happily unwrapped gifts, ignoring me. I looked at the recording on my phone, thinking, one day, I’ll expose your true face to your fans. Let them see clearly whether some celebrities are really worth being fans of. The next day was our major class, and the teacher gave us a script to perform. I drew the female lead role, paired with the most handsome guy in our class to perform a love scene from a famous movie. The male lead was our school’s heartthrob, William Yuan, a former boy band member turned actor with over 10 million followers on Twitter. Unexpectedly, Yvonne bit her lip, looking like she was about to cry. Classmates rushed over, asking with concern: “Yvonne, what’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?” “If you’re not feeling well, take a break first.” Even the male lead teacher came forward to ask what happened. Yvonne looked up, glancing at me carefully, and opened the paper in her hand. “It’s… it’s nothing. I just didn’t get the role I wanted. Don’t worry, I’ll… I’ll act well and won’t drag everyone down.” Fine, you’re the queen of fake nice. My roommates turned around, took Yvonne’s paper and walked up to me: “Skylar Reed, switch with Yvonne. After all, she’s the campus beauty, and she has acting experience. She’ll definitely perform better than you.” “Yeah, and Yvonne is prettier than you. She was born to be the female lead. How can you measure up?” Ever since they found out Yvonne might be Reed Media’s little princess, they’ve all been sucking up to her like lapdogs. I remained unmoved, “Why should I? We all drew lots fairly. Besides, how do you know I can’t act well?” William Yuan said rudely, “Because you have no experience, and because your last name isn’t Shaw. Happy now?” He snatched the paper from my hand, walked to Yvonne’s side, and gently placed it in her palm: “Don’t cry. Come on, we’re partners now.” Heh, I truly wish you two-faced people a long and happy life together. I looked at the teacher, hoping she would be fair. “Teacher, are you really going to let them snatch roles like this?” The teacher looked impatient. “What does it matter what role you play? When you become an actress in the future, can you pick your roles?” I was unconvinced. This was clearly favoritism. I’ve never been treated like this in my life. “Why don’t you say that to her? She’s the one picking roles.” “I think as a teacher, you should treat everyone equally. If you set this precedent, everyone will pick roles in the future. Who will play the small roles then?” “In a play, whether it’s the lead or supporting role, they’re all important. Without supporting roles to set off the lead, how can the lead shine?” The teacher ignored my plea and angrily said. “You talk back ten times for every word I say. Why don’t you be the teacher? You can act or not, if you don’t want to, then get out.” I sneered and said. “You’re all doing this because her last name is Shaw, right? What if she’s not actually the daughter of Reed Media’s CEO?” I saw Yvonne’s face suddenly turn pale in the crowd, trying to keep her composure. “If I’m not, are you saying you are?” I confidently answered: “Of course.” The whole class burst into laughter. “Hahaha she says she’s James Reed’s daughter, I’m dying of laughter.” “If she’s James Reed’s daughter, then I’m Jeff Bezos’ long-lost son.” … James Reed is my dad’s name. Fine, laugh all you want today. Soon enough, I’ll make sure you can’t laugh anymore. But it’s not enough for just you to know. I want the whole world to know who the shameless thief really is. A week after school started was my brother Sean Reed’s concert. He became an internet sensation after debuting as the center in a talent show. Overnight, I gained millions of “sisters-in-law”. Wendy had been promoting herself as Sean Reed’s die-hard fan since school started, even hanging a title in the fan club. Sean Reed’s concert tickets went on pre-sale three days ago, first come first served. But the tickets sold out so fast that they were gone almost as soon as they were released.

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Four years ago, I bought a property but never moved in. Two years later, out of the blue, I started receiving overdue utility bills. Confused beyond belief, I went back to check—and found strangers living in my house. After work, I received a utility payment reminder on my phone. Staring at the unfamiliar address on the screen, it took me a minute to remember that I did have a property at that location. My mom had bought it for me during college, wanting me to have a place off-campus. But, in a last-minute decision, I ended up studying abroad, leaving the place vacant and barely furnished. That was when it hit me: no one should be living there. So where was this utility bill coming from? With mounting confusion, I headed to Oak Hollow Estates, following my memory. … Standing at the door, I noticed that the door itself looked nothing like what I remembered. The black steel door here was new, a stark contrast to the original one I had from the builder. I checked the door number again, feeling unsettled. “808. It’s definitely this one…” Staring at the unfamiliar black door, I caught a whiff of a foul odor leaking from inside. An uneasy feeling crept over me. I didn’t waste any time and called a locksmith. The locksmith, Silas Truitt, arrived quickly, giving me a once-over. “This your place?” I nodded, digging my property deed and ID from my bag to show him. “Of course. Here are the papers if you’d like to verify.” Silas studied the documents and, still looking wary, handed them back. Hoping to get inside quickly, I said, “Look, if it speeds things up, I can pay you a hundred extra, alright?” Silas finally crouched down, opened his toolkit, and muttered under his breath, “Wasn’t there an old lady living here before?” “What did you say?” I asked, but before he could answer, an angry voice yelled from behind us. “What do you think you’re doing?” Something knocked my shoulder as a frail-looking old lady rushed toward Silas, jabbing a finger in his face and shouting, “How dare you, trying to steal from my home in broad daylight!” With surprising strength, she swiped at him, her nails catching his face and leaving a scratch. Silas staggered back with a yelp, clutching his cheek, and pointed toward me. “It’s not me! She asked me to unlock it!” The old lady’s head snapped toward me, her eyes flickering over my face before settling on my necklace with a flash of greed. “Oh, you little thief,” she hissed, striding toward me. “You think I’ll let you get away with this?” As she reached for me, I stepped back, avoiding her. She shot me a quick, calculating look before dropping to the ground with a dramatic wail. “Oh, my bones! This young woman tried to break into my home, and now she’s attacking an old lady!” she shrieked, loud enough to draw nearby residents out of their doors to watch. It was like nothing I’d ever seen. I fought the urge to back away, but as people gathered, the woman clutched at my leg, crying out, “Don’t leave! You knocked me to the ground, and now I can’t move. You’re responsible!” “What?!” I protested. “I never touched you! Silas here can vouch for that.” But when I glanced at Silas, he looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. The old lady’s expression twisted with smug satisfaction, her grip on my leg like a vice. “See? Good people don’t lie for thieves. Now, if you don’t want trouble, I suggest you compensate me.” She stared hungrily at my necklace, making her intention clear. Taking a steadying breath, I raised my chin. “Alright. What kind of compensation are you looking for?” Her eyes lit up, and she jabbed a finger toward my necklace. “Hospitals aren’t cheap! If you want me to forget this, leave that gold necklace as payment, and we’ll call it even.” I nodded. “Fine. But before I hand it over, answer a couple of questions?” Without hesitation, she agreed. “Ask away.” I gestured at the steel door. “First, is this your place?” “Of course it’s my place!” she snapped, not missing a beat. “Oh, really? Then why would my property become yours?” I asked with a pointed smile. She faltered, stammering, “I—I don’t understand what you mean.” “I mean it literally. Why are you living in my house?” A glint of guilt flashed in her eyes, but she squared her shoulders defiantly. “Who says it’s yours? I’ve lived here for years. What proof do you have that it belongs to you?” “Oh, I have proof, alright.”

Slowly, I pulled out my property deed, flipped to the first page, and pointed to the line clearly stating that Rowena Carlisle was the registered owner. Behind me, my neighbor Alvin “Al” Renfield muttered in surprise, “So, it’s not even hers?” “Didn’t think she could afford a place like this,” another murmured. The crowd’s growing murmurs left the old lady’s face turning red with anger. She lunged toward me, reaching for the deed. I raised my hand just in time, laughing. “Weren’t you just unable to stand a second ago? Seems like you’ve made a miraculous recovery.” Realizing her blunder, she flushed, then shoved me hard, snarling, “I’ve been here for three years, so it’s mine now! Who are you to come out of nowhere and claim it?” I nearly laughed out loud. “So by your logic, anyone can move into any property and call it theirs after three years? Is that it?” “Yes, exactly!” Her shouting was so loud that finally, the complex’s security guard showed up. “What’s going on here?” he demanded. The old lady’s face lit up. “Oh, thank heavens you’re here! This girl was breaking into my home, saying it’s hers! You have to help me!” Without missing a beat, the guard stepped between us, glaring at me. “What are you doing here, disturbing the residents?” I’d never seen someone leap to conclusions so quickly. Exasperated, I shoved my deed toward him. “Why don’t you take a look and see who owns the property?” As he took in the document, his face briefly went pale, but with a glance at the gathered neighbors, he snatched for it. I pulled it back just in time. “What are you doing? I can hold it for you to read.” The guard’s face darkened. “Who knows if this is real or fake? Just waltzing in with a phony deed to take someone’s place? Get lost!” As he moved to push me away, the old lady took the chance to quickly unlock the door. The moment it opened, a stomach-turning stench wafted out, strong enough to make me gag. Inside, I saw heaps of trash, and a rat scurried out through the crack. The old lady darted inside and slammed the door shut. I started to knock, but the guard blocked my way, brandishing his baton. “Still here? I’ll kick you out myself!” Silas, the locksmith, finally spoke up in a low voice, “You might want to leave. That old lady is notorious for her antics. She’s always trying to take advantage of people, and no one wants to deal with her.” With a final sympathetic glance, he left. Glancing at the bulldog of a guard, I had no choice but to retreat for the moment.

Once outside, I headed straight to the Oak Hollow Sheriff’s Office, though I wasn’t holding my breath. The look on the deputy’s face confirmed my suspicions. “This case is a bit tricky. She’s older, and, well, she has a bit of a temper,” said Deputy Eli Boone, a touch sheepishly. His tone said it all: Hilda Forsythe, that “old lady,” liked to cause trouble. Even law enforcement had a hard time dealing with her. Seeing my frustration, he added, “The best option here is to file a civil suit. The court can issue an eviction order.” Who knew how long that would take? I could only imagine the state of the place by then, seeing how she was turning it into a junkyard. Taking a deep breath, I got an idea and asked, “Officer, I can go into my own property to clean up the trash, right?” The officer coughed and replied, “As long as there’s no lease in place, technically, you can. Just avoid any physical confrontations.” That was all I needed. With renewed energy, I left the station. Just as I stepped out, I saw the old lady herself, Hilda Forsythe, hunched over a dumpster, digging through garbage. Beside her, holding an oversized canvas sack, was none other than the guard—her son, Buck Forsythe. Freezing in place, I hid behind a sign just in time to catch their conversation. “Mom, you think that woman will come back for the place?” he asked. “Relax, Buck,” Hilda replied. “I won’t let her set foot in here again.” Ah. No wonder the guard had been so hostile. The two of them were in on it. “But she has the deed,” Hilda said, voice tinged with worry. “What if she calls the cops?” “Don’t worry,” Buck scoffed, puffing up his chest. “Next time, I’ll just grab the deed and rip it to pieces. No proof, no problem. Besides, Uncle Clyde can make us a new one if we need it.” I clenched my fists, holding back a laugh. Did these two really think that destroying my deed would make the house theirs? Watching as the “Recording Complete” icon appeared on my phone, I smiled grimly. So, the Forsythe family thought they could stake a claim? They had no idea who they were dealing with.

Early the next morning, I gathered a small crew and returned to Oak Hollow Estates just as Hilda was out scavenging. Buck tried to block our way, but seeing the muscle I brought, he quickly stepped aside, muttering nervously. Reaching the door, I instructed the team, “Break it open.” The stench hit us immediately as the door opened, revealing an avalanche of trash—cans, cardboard, foam boxes, and unwashed takeout containers piled from floor to ceiling. I gagged and pinched my nose. “Clear it all out,” I ordered. Then, with a smirk, I added, “Carefully. Stack it all neatly by the garbage bins.” The hired team, worth every penny, tackled the job with professionalism, unaffected by the rancid smell. As they worked, Buck stepped back and whispered into his phone, probably summoning his mother. By the time Hilda arrived, clutching her oversized sack, half of her “collection” was gone. “Stop! Put it all back!” she shrieked, lunging forward. But one of the crewmen casually lifted her by the collar and set her aside. Sputtering with rage, she spotted me, screeching, “You little hussy! I’ll scratch your eyes out!” She was back at it again, her claws out. Another crew member lifted her and set her down in a corner, out of reach. I casually blew on my fingernails, glancing at the movers. “Hurry up and clear this place. I want the locks changed.” Fuming, Hilda screamed at her son, “Call your uncle! Now!” Amused, I watched as Buck dialed Clyde Forsythe, the property manager. I was curious to see the man who had helped turn my house into a squatters’ paradise.

Before long, a short, round man wearing glasses hustled over. Right behind him were the two deputies from yesterday: Deputy Eli Boone and Deputy Clara Mitchell. Spotting Clyde Forsythe, Hilda stumbled forward like she’d just found salvation, but Clyde brushed her aside and addressed the deputies. “Officers, over here! This woman broke into one of our resident’s units and moved their belongings without permission!” Clyde said, his voice smooth but insincere. I bit back a laugh. This guy was slick, knowing to play the victim. The officers turned to me, looking for an explanation. I calmly pulled the deed from my bag, holding it out. “Officers, I didn’t break into anyone else’s property. I broke into my own house.” Deputy Boone reached for the deed, but before he could take it, Buck lunged forward, snatched the document, and ripped out the page with my name on it, shredding it into pieces and stuffing them into his mouth. “What do you think you’re doing?” Deputy Mitchell shouted as she and her partner wrestled him to the ground, trying to make him spit out the remnants. But it was too late—he’d swallowed them. If he was destroying evidence so boldly, he knew he was in trouble. Deputy Boone’s face hardened as he said, “Sir, you’re coming with us. This is property damage and destruction of evidence.” “Wait!” Clyde cut in, glaring daggers at Buck but still trying to gain control. He gave the officers a tight-lipped smile. “I’m the one who called you. Shouldn’t you handle my case first?” The deputies exchanged a look, and Deputy Boone sighed. “We do need proof for any claims,” he said, his gaze apologetic. Clyde grinned triumphantly, but I just raised a hand, my voice nonchalant. “No need to overthink this.”

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When I was finalizing my divorce papers, a pregnancy test with two lines accidentally fell out of my bag. Just like that, everyone knew I was pregnant. My husband, Asher Hawthorne, looked at the pregnancy test, his eyes darkening with anger as he gritted out a single word, “You.” I hurriedly tried to explain: “Listen to me! This baby isn’t yours!” “Skylar Reese!” That day, Asher directly confiscated my marriage certificate and took me home without a word. I thought I had really pissed him off this time. I wasn’t sure if I could handle his anger. Actually, this baby was something I had schemed to get. I didn’t consider it Asher’s child; I believed it was mine and mine alone! Asher and I had a marriage arranged for business purposes. We had signed a divorce agreement before getting married. Last month, when our contract expired, his first love Brielle Sinclair returned from abroad, so naturally, it was time for us to divorce. But why should I? The man I had loved for over a decade, whom I had finally tricked into marrying me, and now I was supposed to hand him back to that bitch intact? No way! “Asher, I’m fine with the divorce, but if my next husband finds out I’m still a virgin, he might think I lack charm and that’s why I was abandoned!” I took two steps forward, hooked my index finger on his tie and gently pulled, inching closer to him. His cold, handsome face magnified before my eyes. Our breaths intertwined intimately. I had practiced this angle in front of the mirror many times and even ate strawberry-flavored breath mints! “Please, Mr. Hawthorne, help me lose my virginity. I promise I’ll go through with the divorce right after.” My heart was pounding. His pitch-black eyes stared directly at me, and I felt a sense of being seen through. I can’t back down! This is my only chance! Push him down! Eat him up! As I was hesitating whether to be more proactive, desperately trying to recall the adult videos I had studied earlier, he moved. He effortlessly picked me up bridal style. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, his hot, rippling muscles pressed tightly against me! In our two years of marriage, this was the first time I entered his room. It was simple and orderly, just like him, as I had imagined. He tossed me onto the pure black bed and started unbuttoning his shirt right in front of me. Powerful pecs peeked out from the collar. Below the pecs were six-pack abs, and below the abs… I felt my face heating up. I think if I were a kettle, I’d be screaming from the heat right now! Such a cold and elegant person, yet so rough when undressed! I regretted it. If I had known it would hurt so much, I would have… wait, maybe I don’t regret it… Ah, I regret it again! I lay in bed for a whole day before I recovered. It’s pathetic, really. We had just consummated our marriage, and immediately after, the divorce application was submitted. However, we still had to wait for a month. So, isn’t this child just mine? Now I just want to run away with the baby, putting a period to my long, bitter unrequited love. After we got back, Asher seemed to be making some important decision. He just stood silently by the floor-to-ceiling window, like a statue. After a long while, he turned around and pulled me up from the chair. “Come with me to the hospital.” I panicked and broke free. Hospital? Could he be wanting to get rid of my baby? “No! I’d rather die!” He continued to pull me, and I desperately retreated, every hair on my body screaming rejection! But he still dragged me away, in an extremely humiliating manner… He held me in his arms like a child, sharing his body heat with me, his steps quick and steady. If the destination wasn’t the hospital, I’d want him to hold me like this forever. At the entrance of the private hospital, after another round of extreme tugging, I was pinned down in the obstetrics department. It was all because of that “Be good, listen to me” he whispered in my ear. His voice was so alluring and seductive, the tingling sensation ran from my ear to my heart, and the side of my body next to him felt like it was electrified. I couldn’t help but let go of the door I was gripping tightly. Ugh… I was led astray by his good looks. The name of the doctor Asher found for me seemed familiar. Brielle Sinclair. Asher’s first love! Her beauty was different from mine. She had more of an aura about her, gentle and graceful, poised and elegant. Her clothes were always clean and tidy, her face always wore a gentle smile, and her whole being radiated a dazzling, soft glow like the early morning sun. “Skylar Reese, 3 weeks pregnant…” Her hand holding my ultrasound report trembled slightly, but she still smiled. This must be the type Asher likes, while I can only be sharp-tongued, using the coldest and most vicious tone to protect my pitiful self-esteem. My mom was the mistress who became the wife, snatching the position of Mrs. Jackson from Brielle’s mother. I was the shameless sister who stole Brielle’s engagement to the Evans family. I’m grateful that I took after my mother, born with the looks of a natural seductress, allowing me to steal two brief years with Asher in the endless dark times. Asher’s brows furrowed slightly. I knew this was a sign of his annoyance. Even though I was mentally prepared, I still felt a chill. Was he so angry that I was pregnant? He stood up and walked past me towards Brielle. Is he so eager? Going to comfort another woman right in front of me? We’re not even divorced yet! He raised his hand and carefully pulled the ultrasound report from Brielle’s hand, smoothing it out meticulously, his tone slightly cold. “You wrinkled it.” He pressed it hard a few times, but there were still two handprints on the ultrasound report. So he turned to Brielle seriously and said, “Print a new one.” Me: ??? This plot twist doesn’t seem right. Even if your OCD is acting up, it shouldn’t be at this moment, right? Brielle’s ever-present smile finally cracked a bit. “Brother Asher, I didn’t mean to.” Asher shifted his gaze to her face. “Don’t call me brother. My mom only gave birth to me.” After thinking for a moment, he added, his tone sincere without a hint of sarcasm, “Or are you my father’s illegitimate daughter?” Tears stubbornly welled up in Brielle’s eyes. “You’re going too far. I’m going to tell Uncle Evans!” Asher nodded, “Go ahead.” Brielle was stunned. She didn’t expect Asher, who was always aloof and only showed a bit of special treatment to her, would speak to her so harshly. Pfft. Sorry, I really couldn’t help but laugh. It’s rare to see this white lotus bitch Brielle get put in her place. I’m so happy! If I didn’t know that Asher really hates being called “brother”, I would have doubted whether Brielle was really his first love. In the past, I used to chase after Asher calling him “Brother Asher”, and he warned me in a very fierce tone, “Don’t call me brother. I will never be your brother!” Since then, I’ve hidden my humble crush even deeper and more discreetly… Even on the way home, I still felt dizzy and unreal, as if I was walking on clouds. Asher not only didn’t force me to abort the baby, but he even carried me like a princess all the way back. He knelt in front of me, those hands that could move mountains and seas gently removed my high heels and replaced them with soft, comfortable slippers. Even the most skilled craftsmen in the world couldn’t carve out such perfect hands. They seemed to possess a heart-stirring magic, repeatedly attracting one’s gaze. Has the world… gone crazy?! In our two years of marriage, we hadn’t even held hands, and now on the day we’re supposed to divorce, these hands have held me twice and even personally changed my shoes! “Don’t wear high heels for now. It’s easy to get hurt.” He looked up at me slightly as I sat on the shoe-changing bench. Asher has a pair of eyes that are both elegant and alluring. Usually, he looks refined and cold, but when he looks at you, you feel especially cherished. I nodded hurriedly. Now, forget about not letting me wear high heels, even if he told me to eat the high heels, I’d do it without any sauce, one bite at a time! He carefully framed the ultrasound report and placed it in the most prominent position in the living room. Then he had someone send over a big package of books: “Pregnancy Guide”, “Prenatal Education Stories”, “Child Psychology”… I got it. This must be a case of loving the house for its inhabitants. I’m being loved by the big boss Asher because of the unborn baby. I tentatively opened my mouth, “So about the divorce…” Asher, who had been arranging the books, suddenly looked up when he heard my voice. My goodness, what did I see? I actually saw hesitation in the big boss Asher’s eyes! He stared at me, his throat bobbing. His expression was as if I had hurt him. For someone like him, a heaven’s favorite, to show such a vulnerable expression, though brief, made me inexplicably sad. My voice softened involuntarily, “Let’s wait until after the baby is born to talk about it.” “Okay.” He agreed very quickly. It’s all for the child. I don’t know why, but I felt even sadder… But it’s okay. The law stipulates that the custody of children under 2 years old belongs to the mother. Even after divorce, if he wants to see the baby, he’ll have to meet with me. This way, he’ll have to maintain some connection with me for the rest of his life. Thinking about it this way, it seems even more beneficial than running away with the baby! When one is too happy, it’s easy for joy to turn into sorrow. Perhaps due to my constitution, my pregnancy reactions were particularly severe. Even at 5 months pregnant, I was basically throwing up everything I ate. My appetite dropped dramatically, and I lost a full 7 pounds compared to before pregnancy. I was barely hanging on with medication. After throwing up my favorite steamed barramundi again, I started crying while vomiting. My face was a mess of snot and tears, but Asher not only didn’t mind, he focused on wiping me clean with a warm towel, as if handling a fragile piece of art. I said with a sob, “Asher, if I keep throwing up like this, the baby in my belly won’t be able to take it. I really, really want this baby.” “I know.” He let me lean against his chest, gently rubbing my back, feeding me water in small sips. The bitter taste in my mouth gradually dissipated, and my mood slowly calmed down. Only then did I realize how intimate our current position was. I just needed to tilt my head slightly to hear his heartbeat. Before I could move, he called the housekeeper to take me back to my room to rest. Tch, he can say a whole paragraph to Brielle, but when talking to me, it becomes “Mm”, “Okay”, “I know”… Am I that bad? Besides, you’re so fierce, can Brielle’s flat body handle it? While I was still lost in thought, suddenly a SnapChat message came through. It was from Brielle! She didn’t say anything, just sent a picture. It was a hospital diagnosis report. I couldn’t understand the dense medical jargon, but I understood the doctor’s final diagnosis. “Difficulty conceiving, IVF recommended.” I suddenly felt dizzy. This diagnosis report was Brielle’s. Which means, Brielle has difficulty getting pregnant, and Asher must know this too. So… so is the baby in my belly prepared by him for his first love Brielle?! I struggled to get up and find Asher. For my convenience, he had moved his bedroom from across the hall to next door. The door wasn’t closed. He was holding the “Pregnancy Guide” book, making detailed notes. Seeing him like this used to make me feel sweet, but now it just feels ironic. “Asher, you’re quite the actor! It’s a waste of your talents to be a CEO. With such good acting skills, why didn’t you go into the entertainment industry?” He nervously closed the book, a blush coloring his handsome face. His gaze fell on me, his expression tightening. “Why aren’t you wearing slippers?” He started walking out, but I stopped him. “Is it true that Brielle can’t have children?” In the struggle, the book he had hastily closed earlier fell open on the floor. He quickly covered my eyes, “Don’t look…” Why are they hiding something more outrageous from me? If you don’t want me to see, I insist on looking! And then… My face also started burning uncontrollably. A line of ten small characters was circled in red pen, ‘Sexual intercourse is possible after three months of pregnancy.’ Next to it were various notes, citing references and expert opinions… He took the book away and locked it in a drawer. My mind was still full of his flowing handwriting, those memories that make one blush and heart race resurfacing before my eyes. Taut, solid muscles, beads of honey-colored sweat, and sexy panting… But all of this was just a dream he bestowed upon me for the sake of another woman. “Skylar, you’re bleeding.” Bleeding? I touched my nose, but there was no blood. “Don’t be afraid, I’ll take you to the hospital right away!” Drip… Something warm seemed to be flowing down my leg onto the floor… My lower abdomen gradually became stiff, with a vague sinking pain. I trembled as I covered my belly with my hand, “The baby…” “Take deep breaths, try to relax your body.” Asher’s voice had a calming power. I followed his rhythm, breathing in and out, slowly calming down. Thump thump thump. Whose heartbeat is that? I looked up, only able to see his firm chin, tightly pressed lips, and the tense lines of his jaw muscles… “Don’t be afraid.” “I won’t let anything happen to you.” Through the hazy mist, I looked at him. “Asher, did you really want this baby because Brielle can’t have children?” “This is our child, what does that woman have to do with it!” I burst into tears. My anxious heart seemed to suddenly fall into a pool of warm water, neither hot nor cold, just right. At the hospital, there was a flurry of activity. In my hazy state, I could only see the white lights and blue-green figures… Then the world faded into darkness. I had a very long dream. In the dream, I went back to two years ago, when Brielle went abroad. Before I could even be happy about it, I received another shocking news – Asher was going abroad too! The Evans family is in the biotechnology industry, but he wanted to follow Brielle to France, a country known for wine, steak, and luxury goods! If this isn’t true love, what is? The me from two years ago, full of vigor and never admitting defeat, of course, wouldn’t sit idly by. I secretly followed Asher, booked the same flight as him, and to avoid being discovered, I had to squeeze into economy class very uncomfortably. It wasn’t until I got off the plane that I realized what a stupid decision I had made. As a poor student, I hadn’t even mastered French. And I had lost track of Asher. What should I do? I’ve heard that foreign countries can be dangerous. What if I get kidnapped by human traffickers? I’m so beautiful, what if I’m sold as a bar girl, or worse, have my organs harvested… I was about to cry. “What are you doing here?” A clear, low voice sounded behind me, if I listened carefully, I could hear a slight tremor in it. “Asher!” I turned around excitedly and hugged him, “Wah… I was so scared, I thought I’d never see you again…” His body stiffened, “Let go.” I felt like I had been doused with a bucket of cold water, the joy of seeing him just now was washed away completely.

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My husband’s form of emotional manipulation? The silent treatment. At the slightest displeasure, he storms out, disappearing for days or even weeks. I learned to set my own emotions aside, smile, and take care of our son. Then, one day while I was helping Tyler with his homework, I saw his one wish written out: “I wish Mom would just disappear. “She’s so scary when she loses it on Dad.” It was then I finally woke up. Sunday nights are the hardest. Tyler is dragging his feet, crying over homework that’s due tomorrow, while Dan is lost in his own world, gaming with his headphones on, utterly indifferent. No one wants anything to do with me. Tyler is glaring at me, teary-eyed from my scolding; Dan is pretending not to notice, clearly annoyed by my presence. I’m left standing by the table, clearing up their plates, whispering to myself that it’s all my own fault. But my heart aches. Late at night, Dan slips away to the study, Tyler falls asleep, tear stains on his cheeks, and I find myself in the bathroom, looking at my own weary reflection. This is the third month of Dan’s silent treatment. Three long months—I can hardly remember why we’re fighting. Under the same roof, he hasn’t said a word to me. I refuse to give in; I’m convinced he’s at fault. But sleeplessness nags at me. I walk to Tyler’s room to tidy up his backpack. And there, on his desk, I see the new journal I got him. Under “Rewards,” written in that innocent, clumsy handwriting, I see: “I wish Mom would just disappear.”

I blink, thinking I’ve read it wrong. I pick up the journal and take it to the living room, reading that line again. “I wish Mom would just disappear. “She’s so scary when she yells at Dad; she chased him away.” I collapse on the couch, numb, feeling an overwhelming, dull ache settle in. The study light flips off as Dan emerges, grinning. The moment he sees me, his usual icy expression returns. He doesn’t say a word, just picks up his car keys from the coffee table. As he walks past, I catch a whiff of his cologne—Vanilla Musk. It’s the same scent I picked out for him in college when we started dating. Back then, he was a tech geek, always in black-framed glasses and a white T-shirt, hopelessly oblivious to style. I remember teasing him, “A little cologne goes a long way with girls.” He promised he’d keep it because I liked it. And he’s used it ever since. The familiar scent stirs memories of who he was, of our better times, and of the family I desperately want to keep whole for Tyler’s sake. The pain my son caused me rushes back, and without thinking, I stand up and grab Dan’s arm. “Dan, please, can we talk?” Tears silently slip down my face as I stand behind him. He jerks his arm away. I notice his phone screen: he’s on a call. Who is he talking to this late at night, wearing cologne? “Dan, are you coming down? I’ve been craving BBQ all week!” A girl’s voice comes through, laughing flirtatiously. That soft, sweet tone brings back all the reasons we’re in this fight. I turn to leave, but Dan grabs my arm again. With a smirk, he says, “Beg me, and I’ll stay with you and Tyler tonight.” Dan has always reveled in the moment I give in, that satisfaction of seeing me break, especially now that some young girl is competing for his attention. The way he stays—like he’s doing us a favor.

I laughed, but not in amusement. “Beg you? As if I made Tyler all by myself. You’re his father, too, aren’t you? “Am I the only one responsible for him? Don’t you care at all? “Do you even realize the toll this is taking on him?” Dan’s expression hardened, his mouth a thin line. Like I was some madwoman, he grabbed his jacket and slammed the door behind him. Tyler’s journal, with its wish for my disappearance, was still lying on the couch. Dan had left his study lights on as usual. He never bothers with issues—either saying something sharp to rile me up or storming out the door, leaving me to pick up the pieces. The slam of the door woke Tyler. Barefoot, he padded out of his room, staring at the direction his dad left. He came over, picked up his journal from the couch, frowning. “Mom, why do you always make Dad so mad?” I didn’t answer. Downstairs, the sound of Dan’s car engine roared, and the car drove off. Guess I’ll be biking Tyler to school again tomorrow. I looked at the journal clenched in his little hand, at the eyes he inherited from his father. For the first time, I realized just how trapped I’ve been all these years.

I managed to make it to my bedroom, collapsed onto the bed. Closing my eyes, I kept seeing, “Mom would just disappear.” Those four words. Honestly, I’d never screamed at him hysterically. In fact, I went out of my way to avoid conflict, humbling myself to keep Dan around for Tyler’s sake. I pleaded with Dan to come home, to spend time with his own son. Sleep was impossible. My phone lit up on the nightstand; it was a message from Linda. “I heard Dan storm out again. Did you two argue? Are you okay?” I met Linda through Craigslist, where I sold handmade crafts after Dan cut off my access to our joint account during one of his silent treatments. I had no income, so I took on small jobs to make ends meet. Eventually, we discovered we were neighbors. She even bought from me, supporting my small business and showing care. As I heard Tyler’s door close, I texted back: “Thanks, Linda. I’m fine.” The next morning, I woke up completely drained, my eyes swollen. Dan had returned. The scent of Vanilla Musk was barely there, drowned in alcohol. His gaze lingered on me for a moment, then shifted away. This wasn’t the silent treatment. This time, he muttered from the bathroom doorway, scornfully. “Don’t you think this look is a bit dramatic?” He expected me to lash out, to scream and cry so he could leave, feeling justified. But I’d grown tired. I didn’t react. He seemed surprised, watching me with something like uncertainty. He walked into Tyler’s room and spoke in that bright, affectionate tone. “Hey, buddy, Daddy’s taking you to school today.” The two of them left hand in hand, happily chatting, his kindness for Tyler a sharp contrast to his coldness with me. Neither of them thought to ask how I was doing. It felt like two knives twisting in my chest.

Taking out the trash, I ran into Linda. She noticed my eyes and took me inside, rolling a cold spoon over the bruises under my eyes. She looked at me, her own eyes brimming with tears. “Does it hurt?” Her kindness brought back memories of Dan from when we were first married. Back then, Dan and I had nothing. Living in San Francisco was expensive, and we could only afford a tiny basement apartment on the outskirts. Our bathroom and kitchen were communal, and we slept on a small twin bed. One day, after cooking in the shared kitchen, I accidentally ran into someone in the hall. In my reflex to avoid them, I burned the back of my hand with hot food. When Dan came home, I wore gloves to hide it, not wanting him to worry, but he noticed immediately. I tried to laugh it off, saying it didn’t hurt. Dan, frantic, rushed to get me first aid. He cried so hard, his tears wouldn’t stop. I teased him, saying, “What kind of man cries so much?” He replied through sobs, “Evie, I’ll make sure you never suffer again!” That night, he held me close, promising all the beautiful things we’d do together. “Evie, I won’t ever let you get hurt again.” I believed then he truly loved me. But when did he change? Now, it feels like we’re two ticking time bombs, bound together, ready to explode at the slightest friction. Except Dan is a dud—no noise, just a silent smoke that fills every corner, choking me in fear, making me scream. Returning home, I found the place empty. The kitchen was cold, Tyler’s dirty clothes scattered across the wet bathroom floor, muddy footprints tracked through the living room. I sank onto the couch and opened my laptop. I started drafting the divorce papers. I didn’t lack qualifications compared to Dan. Before becoming a stay-at-home mom, I was a college grad, passed the bar, and worked as an attorney for two years. I once earned a good salary, winning cases and thriving in my career. Then, I got pregnant. Dan convinced me to quit and focus on raising Tyler. At first, he’d said: “When your maternity leave’s over and Tyler’s a little older, we can hire a nanny. You can get back to work whenever you’re ready.” Later, he changed it to: “Tyler’s used to you now, and I’m in a career upswing. Going back would mean hiring a nanny, and her salary would eat up yours. It just doesn’t make sense for us financially. “Let’s wait until Tyler’s a bit older.” My son hugged mine and babbled for mommy. I went soft. Blame me for not insisting. Thinking about it now, Dan’s cold violence appeared a little bit from that time.

Having finished drafting the divorce agreement, I noticed it was almost evening. Dan still hadn’t come home with Tyler. Out of habit, I started worrying about Tyler’s homework, then I slapped myself hard across the face. “As a mom, I have to be tough, just like his dad.” Then I got a call from Dan. It was that same girl from the other night. “Hey, it’s me. Dan is too drunk to get home. Can you come pick him up?” “Why don’t you just take him home? Aren’t you two close?” I glanced at the divorce papers on the table and changed my mind. “Forget it. I’ll go get him.” As soon as I hung up, I rushed to the bar where he was. Inside, a mix of people filled the room. Apart from the girl I’d spoken to on the phone, everyone else was a stranger. Yet they all looked at me with judgment, as if I had failed to be a good housewife. Dan sat in the main seat, his face flushed, raising an empty glass while Tyler was right beside him. His backpack lay discarded on the floor, and a girl dressed in revealing clothing had him in her arms, chatting away. So this is how he spends time with our son? No wonder my efforts to care for Tyler all these years seemed futile compared to the few times Dan takes him out for a good time. Before I could step inside, Tyler yelled out. “Dad, I don’t want to go back with Mom! She’ll just make me do my homework!” He darted around like he’d seen a ghost, and only then did Dan feign waking up. “Don’t be scared, buddy. Dad’s here.” Then more voices chimed in, urging me to back down. “Hey, don’t be mad at him. He’s been hiding out at my place for almost two months because of you.” “Same here, Dan’s been hiding out at my place for nearly a month; my wife is getting annoyed.” The girl next to Dan chimed in, “You know, Dan talks about you and Tyler a lot when we chat. He really cares about you both.” That’s when it hit me—this call wasn’t about getting Dan home. They wanted me to break down, beg, and apologize to him so he would come back. I couldn’t help but scoff. “With all these sob stories, can’t he just come home on his own? Does he not have legs? “I’m the one working my tail off to raise our son, yet he storms out at the slightest inconvenience and is now the one suffering. “If having fun outside is suffering, how about I trade places with you, Dan? Quit pretending to be drunk. “Is this what you want? Should I say it privately or would you prefer I say it right here?” The girl clinging to him suddenly paled. “Look, it’s all a misunderstanding.” A misunderstanding? Almost caught him in the act while he was out partying, and when I pressed him, he just shut down. Dan went cold again, not saying a word. He shot a dark glance at Tyler, who shuffled over to me, looking dejected, while still glancing back at Dan, hoping he would call him back. He thought that meant more fun and no homework. This was his way of sending me packing. Telling me to take our son and leave while he continued to enjoy himself. Why does it always have to be this way? I’ve had enough. I stood my ground, pulling out the divorce papers.

“Dan, let’s get a divorce.” The noise in the bar fell silent instantly. Dan finally looked up at me. His expression was one of disbelief, as if he couldn’t comprehend what I just said. After seven years of marriage, no matter how tense things had become between us, I’d never once brought up divorce. He knew me well enough to know I never backtracked once I made up my mind. He jumped up from the leather sofa and took a few steps towards me. “Are you serious?” Finally, he was looking me in the eye and speaking to me like a normal person. He glanced at Tyler and smirked. “Evie, if you want a divorce, you can’t take Tyler with you. He’d much rather stay with me.” Dan was confident I’d fight him for our son. He wasn’t blind; he knew how much I had put up with for Tyler’s sake over the years. Tyler clung to Dan, glaring at me with fear, as if I was going to take him away. “Mom, I don’t want you. I want Dad.” The girl stepped closer, smiling mockingly as she advised me. “Sweetie, at your age, without a job or a place to live, you can’t take custody of him. “Just take your son home; there’s no need for overnight grudges in a marriage.” I gritted my teeth, clutching the divorce papers tightly. I knew what I was up against when I walked in here, but seeing their disdain and disapproval stung. But no, I pinched myself. Reminding myself: Women must be strong; no tears. Tears are magic in front of those who love you; they’re merely a joke in front of those who don’t. “Dan, rest assured. “I’m leaving. I don’t want the child or the house.”

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Something’s been off with my housekeeper’s daughter, Sophia, lately. She keeps staring at me with this hostile look, almost like it’s intentional, and then she’ll blast those “Switched Heiress” podcasts in the living room. My brother, Ethan, has had enough and came to vent to me. “Nat, you think Sophia actually believes you and she were switched at birth?” he groaned. “And, like, it’s weird—she’s been looking at me with this ‘loving’ stare lately. Totally creepy.” I chuckled. She really thought the yearly DNA tests my family pays for don’t cover things like that? I’m Natalie James, the only heiress of James Corporation. Like most kids in wealthy families, my parents are rarely home, so they hired a live-in housekeeper to look after Ethan and me. Martha Harris, our housekeeper, has a daughter around my age named Sophia. She’s lived with us practically her entire life, eating and growing up alongside us. But here’s the strange part—Martha doesn’t seem to like her daughter very much. It’s obvious to our whole family that Martha can barely tolerate Sophia. Once, I asked my parents if we should step in. After all, Sophia is often ignored or treated harshly; it’s pitiful. But my parents told me not to interfere with other people’s family issues. Besides, the one time I spoke up on Sophia’s behalf, Martha, who’s usually kind to me, told me flatly, “That’s a family matter.” Since then, I’ve stayed out of it. But recently, Sophia’s attitude towards me has changed. Now, she gives me these strange looks and does a lot of…puzzling things around the house. First, she started pestering Ethan daily about when my parents would return from their vacation. Then, whenever she’d see me, she’d give me this odd, condescending glare. But the worst? When she’d turn up the volume on her phone, blasting those “Switched Heiress” podcasts for everyone to hear. As Ethan put it, “It’s like her whole scheme is written all over her face.” I laughed inwardly. How could that be possible? Even if Sophia and I are close in age, my parents’ DNA tests rule out anything like that. …Wait. Could I actually not be the real heiress? I immediately dashed to the study and dug out my health records. Thankfully, my parents had the foresight to include a DNA test in our yearly health checks. I might have seriously doubted myself otherwise. Seeing the clear relationship confirmation put me at ease, and I shrugged off Sophia’s bizarre fixation on “heiress switches” as some kind of obsession. Then one day, Sophia suddenly turned to Ethan at dinner and asked sweetly, “Ethan, don’t you think you and I look kind of alike?” Ethan practically choked on his food. “Sophia, are you nuts? What do you mean? My real sister is sitting right here.” Martha choked, too, clearing her throat as she shot Sophia a sharp look. “Girl, what on earth are you saying? Mr. and Mrs. James aren’t here, so it’s a privilege for us to be allowed to dine with Miss Natalie and Mr. Ethan. Show some respect!” With that, she rapped Sophia on the head with her chopsticks. Sophia’s eyes filled with tears. “Just wait till they’re back. You’ll all regret this!” she snarled, throwing a vicious look my way before storming off to her room. Um…what? I hadn’t even said anything. And I had no idea what “look” my parents could possibly give her upon their return. Martha looked embarrassed and turned to Ethan and me. “Miss Natalie, Mr. Ethan, I’m so sorry. Sophia’s been acting out lately. I’ll be sure to discipline her.” I raised an eyebrow. “Martha, your disciplinary skills might need a little work. After all, she is your own daughter, so maybe give her some care.” I emphasized “own daughter” on purpose, hoping to gauge her reaction. But Martha just chuckled. “Oh, you’re right, Miss Natalie. But people like us from small towns who barely got an education…we don’t know much about raising kids.” “Sophia’s certainly not as refined as you are, Miss Natalie. Back where I’m from, girls her age would already be married off to bring in a dowry for the family. But here, Mr. James has been so kind, supporting her education, and yet she’s ungrateful and so rude…” I couldn’t agree with her viewpoint, but I could tell she had zero concern about whether Sophia was her daughter or not. Curious, I asked, “Martha, you’ve always treated me so well.” Martha’s face brightened. “Of course! Mr. and Mrs. James have been so good to me, and I’ve watched you grow up. To me, you’re as dear as a daughter—maybe even dearer than my own.” At that moment, I actually felt a bit sorry for Sophia. Imagine having a mom like that. I smiled. “Martha, you should focus more on your own daughter. You might avoid some trouble that way.” I left the dining room, ignoring Martha’s puzzled look.

Ethan’s been complaining to me nonstop. Though he’s used to Sophia’s little attempts to get close to him, he said this time was a whole new level of strange. “Nat, she’s been taking my clothes to wash, lurking outside my study after her midnight showers, and hanging around my class door every chance she gets. But now she’s acting like some grandmother, filling my plate like it’s her job and staring at me with this ‘loving’ gaze. I seriously can’t stand it anymore. What’s her game this time?” I sighed, as frustrated as he was. To calm him down, I promised to have a talk with Sophia once we were back at school. My dad, ever generous, had arranged for Sophia to attend Westview Prep alongside me as a perk for Martha. We were even placed in the same class, supposedly so we could “look out for each other.” But lately, Sophia seemed to be avoiding me on purpose. Wherever I went, she wasn’t there. Even at school, running into her felt like sheer luck. Today, my luck must’ve been exceptional because as soon as I walked into the classroom, there she was, dressed to the nines and surrounded by classmates. “Sophia, that outfit! And the bag—must’ve cost a fortune, right?” “Oh, not really,” she giggled, “I just saw it while shopping and thought, ‘why not?’” “Wow, I never realized Sophia wasn’t from an ordinary family like us. Looks like we have a real heiress among us.” Sophia grinned. “Heiress? Just what my parents gave me, that’s all. What’s mine is mine, you know? Unlike some people, who can only pretend they belong—wasting all that effort for nothing.” She looked directly at me as she said it. One of my friends leaned over and whispered, “Isn’t she just Martha’s daughter? Natalie, does your family pay your housekeeper that much, or did her mom win the lottery? She’s flaunting all this luxury like she just came into money.” “What does she mean by that? Think she got swapped at birth with a rich kid?” “Natalie, isn’t she implying you and she…?” I was speechless. I had no clue where Sophia was getting the cash for all this. Only a few of my closer friends knew she was Martha’s daughter. Out of respect, they’d always kept her background a quiet secret. “She’s starting to sound delusional,” I muttered, arriving at a conclusion after some thought. I walked over to her. “Sophia, come with me. I need a word.” Sophia froze. She’d been avoiding me for days and probably never expected me to confront her head-on. After all, in those “switched heiress” stories, the imposter was always too timid to face the real heiress. Around us, people began whispering. “I’ve never seen Natalie talk to Sophia before.” “Did you hear what Sophia just said? Could they have actually been swapped?” “What? You’re kidding. No one would risk crossing the James family.” “Isn’t she, like, really close with Natalie’s brother? Actual siblings wouldn’t go that far, right?” Ignoring the gossip, I walked straight outside, and after fixing her clothes, Sophia followed me. I cut to the chase. “You know why I want to talk, don’t you?” Sophia’s face broke into a smug smile. “Well, since you already know you’re in my place, why not tell Mom and Dad yourself? Maybe I’ll even put in a good word for you to get some extra support.” For a moment, I felt like my brain had short-circuited. “Sophia, what nonsense are you talking about?” She scoffed, “Oh, come on, Natalie! You know I’m the real James heiress. You’ve lived the easy life I was supposed to have while I’ve suffered. You owe me, Natalie, and you’ll never pay it back.” “What proof do you even have?” “Oh, I’ve got proof,” she sneered. “Once Mom and Dad are back from their trip, the truth will finally come out. You’ll be the one begging for mercy when I kick you and your broke mom out of this house.” I was about to ask where on earth she got such confidence when a sharp voice cut through our conversation. “Sophia!” Martha was striding toward us, and before I knew it, she slapped Sophia hard.

All of a sudden, everyone in the classroom poured out to see what had happened. I, too, was caught off guard by the sudden drama. Sophia clutched her cheek, red and swollen from the slap, tears welling up as if she couldn’t speak. Martha’s eyes were furious as she grabbed Sophia by the hair. “Did you transfer money out of my account, you worthless brat?! That money was for your brother’s future! Do you want us to end up on the streets? I can’t believe you’d betray me like this!” Through her tears, Martha’s voice wavered, giving everyone a clear idea of where Sophia’s luxury items had come from. I quickly stepped in and tried to separate them. “Martha, maybe let’s talk this over. We’re at school…” Martha looked around at the staring crowd and, realizing she had an audience, sank dramatically to the ground. “Lord, how could this happen to me? I saved for years to secure my son’s future, and now it’s all gone because of this ungrateful child. What am I supposed to do now?” “Is that really Sophia’s mom? She doesn’t seem like she has money.” “Didn’t you hear? Sophia probably stole her savings and went on a shopping spree.” Whispers and jeers began circulating. “Was she always this…flashy?” “Last I heard, she’s only able to go to Westview because someone sponsors her.” “Enough!” Sophia’s glare landed on me, her eyes blazing. “Natalie, this is all because of you, isn’t it? I’ve suffered for so many years in your place, and now you’re trying to humiliate me? Just wait—I swear you’ll regret it!” Without a glance back, she turned and ran, ignoring Martha’s shouts. “Hey! How dare you talk to Miss Natalie like that! Are you okay, Miss Natalie?” Martha rushed over to me, casting another furious look in Sophia’s direction as she fled. The whispers around me continued, buzzing louder. “This woman’s not actually Natalie’s mother, is she? But look how she’s way kinder to Natalie than her own daughter.” “Yeah, I heard she’s just the James family’s housekeeper.” “Then maybe it’s true? They might’ve been switched, and Martha just raised the wrong daughter.” I was about to shake off Martha’s concerned grip when a calm, familiar voice broke through the crowd. “Martha, maybe you should go check on your own daughter.” I turned and saw Lucas Sullivan standing in the hallway, his gaze steady as he walked toward me. “Natalie, class is about to start.” A couple of girls whispered excitedly nearby. “Oh my god, he’s here! I’m totally swooning.” “Even if Natalie turned out not to be the real heiress, she’d still be set marrying into the Sullivan family!” “Lucas is so perfect. And honestly, he and Natalie look so good together.” Lucas was my boyfriend, and everyone knew it. In fact, both our families fully approved of us being together. As far as family status, academics, and looks go, we’re a perfect match, and the potential partnership between our families’ businesses only sweetens the deal. Reluctantly, Martha released her grip and scurried after Sophia. I didn’t pay much attention to the gossip around us, but the recent drama had stirred up my curiosity about what Lucas thought. Once we were back in class, I asked him, “Lucas, if it turns out I’m not really the James heiress, would you still want to be with me?” He chuckled softly, as if I’d just told him a joke. “What’s so funny?” I was genuinely curious, especially since, with everything happening, it didn’t feel like such a wild possibility that I might not be the real heiress. Lucas reached over and lightly patted my head, his eyes clear and reassuring. “Whether you’re the real James heiress or not doesn’t matter to me. What matters is you—Natalie James. That’s all I care about.” That afternoon, Sophia showed up to school again, but this time, her outfit was even more extravagant than before. Our classmates exchanged confused glances, clearly struggling to make sense of her behavior. Sophia didn’t hesitate. She walked right up to me but stopped short in front of Lucas, looking uncharacteristically shy. “Lucas, I think you should know the truth. I’m the real heiress of the James family.” A collective gasp rippled through the class. She’d actually said it. “Oh?”

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My sister was kidnapped by thugs, and to save her, I lost an arm. But afterward, she stole my RV and emptied my bank account. When I confronted her, she was irritated. “Callie Harlow, don’t guilt-trip me! Losing your arm was your own choice; what does that have to do with me? Besides, you hardly use any of that stuff, so give it to me.” Humiliated and angry, she schemed to push me off a cliff. The next thing I knew, I was back to the day she begged me to save her. From the rooftop, I shouted, “Fiona, what did you say? I can’t hear you!” As soon as I said that, I ran. I sprinted away, not giving the kidnappers or Fiona a chance. What a joke—if I survived death once and still acted like a fool, then my death in the past life would’ve been for nothing. “Callie, help me!” Fiona’s voice tore through the air, desperate and heart-wrenching. She was shouting so loudly that, even though I had already run quite far, I could hear her crystal clear. “Dad’s already gone! Are you really going to let your only sister die?” Fiona cried, her voice thick with sobs. From a distance, her words sounded like the shrieks of a banshee, haunting and relentless. And honestly, that’s exactly how it felt. In my previous life, those same words made me run back without hesitation. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing my sister, my own flesh and blood. But what happened in the end? I lost my right arm to the kidnappers. It was my dominant hand. After losing it, even simple tasks like writing became exhausting. But even though I lost my arm, I didn’t regret it at the time. Back then, the kidnappers had given me a choice: either they cut off one of my arms, or they’d take Fiona’s head. Trading my right arm for Fiona’s life? At the time, I thought it was worth it. I worked hard through physical therapy, joined Mom in managing Harlow Enterprises, and despite the pitiful stares from everyone around me, I slowly rebuilt my life. But after Mom passed away, Fiona didn’t care that I had lost my arm for her. She took my RV and drained my bank account. Crushed, I thought I’d use my savings to buy a new house—only to find that I didn’t have a penny left in my account. I ran back and forth between the bank and the authorities, and finally discovered that Fiona had stolen every last cent that Mom had left me. At thirty, not only was I missing my arm, but I had lost everything I owned. When I confronted Fiona, her face was full of disdain. “Callie Harlow, don’t try to guilt-trip me. Losing your arm was your own choice. It has nothing to do with me.” That was the moment I realized I no longer recognized my sister. Back when Mom was still alive, Fiona was sweet and charming. She would tell anyone who would listen that we were sisters, that because I had sacrificed my arm for her, she’d repay me. She even said she’d stay single forever to take care of me. I was deeply touched. I even told Mom to give Fiona a larger share of the inheritance. After all, I had practically raised her. I didn’t want her to suffer. But in the end, Fiona sweet-talked Mom into leaving all the houses and cars in her name. When I questioned her, she responded like it was the most natural thing in the world: “Besides, you don’t use them much anyway. Just give them to me.” I was so angry, my face flushed red, and I blurted out the whole truth in front of everyone—that I had lost my arm saving Fiona from kidnappers. Everyone was outraged on my behalf, calling her an ungrateful wolf in sheep’s clothing. I thought that maybe, after hearing so many people call her out, Fiona might feel some sense of guilt. But I never imagined that she would lure me to the edge of Overlook Ridge and push me off. And as I fell, the truth behind the kidnapping finally came out. The so-called kidnapping? It was all Fiona’s doing. She wanted the money that Mom had, but since Mom was trying to teach Fiona independence by cutting off her extravagant allowance, Fiona staged the entire kidnapping. My arm? That was just for added realism. After securing a million dollars from Mom, Fiona instructed the kidnappers to chop off my arm to make it look convincing. It wasn’t until I was dying that I realized the sweet little sister I grew up with had turned into a cold-blooded stranger. I raced downstairs. As soon as Mom saw me, she was frantic. “Callie! Fiona’s been kidnapped!” She was crying, and her voice was filled with genuine panic. Fiona was the apple of her eye, raised by Mom’s side, so of course, she couldn’t sit idly by. I gently took her hand and led her to a seat, calmly reassuring her. “Mom, don’t worry. Fiona will be okay.” “How can you say that?” Mom’s voice rose in disbelief. “They’re asking for a million dollars! If we don’t pay, they’ll kill her!” “Callie, I know you and Fiona didn’t grow up together, so maybe you don’t feel that close to her, but you can’t just let her die!” Mom’s voice cracked, on the verge of breaking down. When I was five, Mom and Dad divorced. Fiona, still a baby, stayed with Mom, while I was sent to live with Dad. Even though we lived apart, we weren’t strangers. During school breaks, we’d do homework together, play together. To say we had no bond would be a lie. Even though Mom’s words stung a little, I understood. Right now, Fiona’s life was in danger, and Mom was too panicked to think straight. In my past life, I was just as blinded by fear. “Mom, we’ll save Fiona. But if you sell everything to raise that kind of money, what will you do if this happens again?” Mom hadn’t thought about that—she was so focused on saving Fiona that she couldn’t think about the future. My words snapped her back to reality. Giving in to the kidnappers would only encourage them to come back for more. “Callie, what should I do?” Mom asked, gripping my hands like a lifeline, her eyes full of desperation. In this moment, I had control of everything. Fiona, this time, you’re going to experience exactly what I went through.

“Mom, you’re too emotional to think straight right now. Trust me and go home. I promise, I’ll bring Fiona back safe and sound.” After much reassurance and persuasion, I finally got Mom to leave. The first thing I did was call the police. In my past life, I had listened to Fiona and didn’t call the cops, choosing instead to charge in on my own to save her. But this time, I knew exactly where the fake kidnapping was happening. I led the police straight to the location where Fiona was being held. Sure enough, there she was. When the kidnappers saw the police, they were frozen in shock, and Fiona? She looked just as stunned. “Fiona, I’m here to save you,” I said, making sure to speak before she could even react. “Didn’t I tell you not to call the cops?” Fiona screamed at me, furious. What she wanted was for Mom to bring the million dollars to the drop-off point, or for me to come alone to rescue her. Now, with the police swarming the place, the kidnappers were already under control. There was no chance for anyone to get hurt—not even me. “Don’t worry, Fiona. The officers will take care of these bad guys,” I said, wearing the perfect mask of concern, playing the role of the devoted sister. “You bitch!” one of the kidnappers spat, furious. They had been working with Fiona from the start, and part of the deal was that no one would get the police involved. “Nobody move,” one of the cops ordered sternly. The kidnappers didn’t dare make a sound. They sat quietly, obedient, knowing they had no other choice. The police successfully rescued Fiona, and this time, Mom’s assets were untouched. In my past life, saving Fiona had cost Mom a fortune. The strain on the business was too much, and eventually, Harlow Enterprises went bankrupt. Mom, crushed by guilt for her employees and overwhelmed by the pressure, fell ill. She was diagnosed with breast cancer and passed away within two years. This time, I won’t let that happen again. “Officer, what’s going to happen to them?” Fiona asked a young cop, her face filled with nervousness. The officer, thinking Fiona was traumatized by the kidnapping, reassured her. “Don’t worry, this is a serious case of kidnapping and extortion. They’re going to face severe punishment.” The two kidnappers glared at Fiona with hatred, and Fiona quickly grabbed the officer’s arm, her voice trembling, “Officer, can you give me an idea of how bad it’s going to be?” “From what we know so far, they’re looking at at least ten years in prison,” the officer said, trying to comfort her. Upon hearing the sentence, both Fiona and the kidnappers’ faces darkened. The cop, misunderstanding Fiona’s reaction, added, “While they did extort and threaten your family, since you weren’t physically harmed, they probably won’t get life sentences.” He was still trying to console her, but Fiona wasn’t listening anymore. “Officer, they were just acting impulsively. I wasn’t hurt—can’t their sentence be reduced?” she said, her voice loud enough for the kidnappers to hear. “If you sign a settlement agreement, there’s a chance their sentence could be lessened,” the officer responded, looking confused. It wasn’t often he saw someone advocating for their kidnappers. “Callie, let’s sign a settlement,” Fiona rushed over, grabbing my hand. She was terrified the kidnappers would expose her. All she had wanted was a quick way to get money and show off. She hadn’t expected things to go this far and was now scared that the thugs would hold a grudge against her. These men weren’t the kind you could mess with lightly. They might look unremarkable, but they were ruthless. In my past life, they hadn’t hesitated for a second before chopping off my hand. “Fiona, don’t be scared. I’m here now. We’ll make sure those men are punished,” I said, embracing her as I turned to the police. “Officer, please take them away. My sister is so shaken that she’s not thinking straight. I need to take her to see a psychiatrist.” I lowered my voice, but we were all standing close enough that everyone could hear. Fiona immediately freaked out. “They didn’t scare me! They treated me well! I want to sign the settlement. They must’ve been desperate. They wouldn’t have done it otherwise.” Her frantic tone only made her seem more unhinged. The police officer came over and gently told me, “We’ve secured the kidnappers. Take your sister to see a doctor.” Following his advice, I didn’t even bother going home. I drove Fiona straight to the psychiatrist. Mom arrived at the hospital later and was shocked to see Fiona there. As soon as Fiona saw her, her eyes lit up with hope. After all, she had grown up with Mom and believed Mom would always take her side. So the first thing Fiona said after being rescued was to ask Mom to sign the settlement. The joy drained from Mom’s face instantly. “Have you lost your mind?” “I haven’t! I’m just trying to show compassion, to be kind. Mom, don’t you know those men had hard lives too? If they hadn’t been driven to desperation, they wouldn’t have committed such a crime!” Fiona cried, genuinely believing her own words. She was terrified. If those men ratted her out, her future would be ruined. Fiona’s sobbing was pitiful, and Mom’s heart wavered. “Fiona, have you ever heard of someone asking for a million dollars as a ransom out of desperation?” “A million dollars! That’s enough to support countless families,” I added, cutting through the tension. My words made Mom’s earlier sympathy vanish. She firmly led Fiona out of the hospital. I smiled. It wasn’t going to be that easy for Fiona to wash her hands clean.

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