Category: English

My Boyfriend pretended to be a poor college student, but he’s actually the geir to New York’s Wealthiest Family. Even after my best friend suggested for the hundred and first time that I dump my freeloader of a boyfriend, I still refused. There was no way I would ever break up with him. That was until I overheard his secretary late one evening: “Since the fish are already on the hook, it’s time for me to reel them in.” “And what about Miss Keira?” he asked. “She loves money. We’ll just write her a check and be done with it.” Hearing this, I nearly laughed out loud. Finally, I’m going to get rich. Lately, Raphael Parsons has been sneaking out a lot behind my back. He always makes a great meal for me beforehand, doting on me with sweet words. Then, once I’m asleep, he tiptoes out quietly. Little does he know, I’m not actually asleep. Because every night, I’m praying he betrays me. So, tonight, after another long evening, Raphael quietly snuck out. This was the tenth time this month, and my patience was wearing thin. I threw on a coat and followed him out, silently slipping down the staircase. Pressing my ear to the door, I overheard his conversation. “Those old guys at the company are getting impatient. It’s time to wrap this up,” Raphael said. Another man’s respectful voice replied, “And what should we do about Miss Keira?” My heart tightened. Raphael had been freeloading off me for so long, eating my food, using my money. Surely, he wouldn’t just leave without a word? Raphael’s voice was low. “She’s obsessed with money. Just write her a check and be done with it.” The man seemed taken aback. “But Miss Keira has taken care of you for a while now. Isn’t just writing a check a bit heartless?” Raphael sounded annoyed, “What else? Should I take her back as my wife? She’s just a third-rate college grad working in a third-rate company. She isn’t fit to walk through the Parsons’ doors.” The man asked, “How much should the check be?” Raphael replied coldly, “Let her fill in the amount.” Hearing this, I slipped back to the room. I could hardly contain my excitement. “Let her fill in the amount.” Those were the sweetest words I’d ever heard.

Yes, it’s true. I’ve lived through this before. In my last life, I also met Raphael in the hospital, where he was pretending to have amnesia. I was charmed by his looks and took him home, feeding him, clothing him, and giving him a place to stay. Honestly, we had a blissful time together. I foolishly believed that love was everything. Raphael pretended he lost his memory during a car accident caused by a company dispute. Meanwhile, he was secretly reorganizing the entire Parsons Group. When the Parsons family came to fetch Raphael, around ten Rolls-Royces drove into my soon-to-be-demolished neighborhood. The entire area gathered to watch. Raphael donned a tailored suit and Rolex, handed me a $500,000 check as thanks, and said goodbye. Back then, I was all about Raphael and refused the check, wanting only to be with him forever. Raphael’s look of disdain still haunts me. He broke up with me, and I couldn’t take it. I exposed our relationship to the media, revealing his deceit. This scandal gave him a terrible reputation and caused uproar within the Parsons Group, destabilizing it again just after they had ended a power struggle. Under pressure, Raphael publicly proposed to me. On our wedding night, I saw news of him and a famous model at a hotel. Soon after, he tormented me daily, disgusted by my mere presence. He even purchased the media outlet I had exposed him to and outed me as the source. I became the villain, and the harassment drove me to depression, eventually leading to my suicide.

When I woke up, I found myself back in the hospital, where I first met Raphael. Seeing him pretending to be pitiful, I rolled my eyes. This time, I’m getting my $500,000. Forget revenge – I just want the money. Just as before, Raphael claimed he had amnesia and was head over heels for me. His chiseled face seemed to scream “$500,000.” I brought him home again. Everything proceeded just as it had in my past life. We got together, and I was even more attentive to him this time around. He was tired? I massaged his shoulders. Hungry? I cooked for him. Needed money? I transferred it to him. Even if he wanted to sleep with me? No problem. My longtime best friend, Maia, berated me for being blinded by love. Our neighbor wished his wife treated him as well as I treated Raphael. Our relationship blossomed, and Raphael even started cooking and caring for me. He’d often bring me lunch at work, making my coworkers envious of my attentive boyfriend. Ha – attentive? More like a dog. With Raphael freeloading off me and me focusing on making money, my career soared, and I got three promotions. But those small sums meant nothing. I wanted my $500,000. My phone buzzed. It was Maia’s hundred and first message telling me to break up with Raphael. “Keira, you need to dump that freeloader, or we’re done. Remember our dreams of getting rich?” In my past life, I refused because I loved Raphael. This time, I refused again but for the sake of riches. “Maia, I love Raphael, but it won’t interfere with our dreams. Get ready to pack up and get your passport. We’re flying high soon.” I sent the message just as I heard a sound outside. Raphael was back. Quickly, I put my phone down and pretended to be asleep. He slipped into bed, wrapped his arm around my waist, and fell asleep. As he slept soundly, I lay awake, too excited about the “write any amount” to sleep. Finally, my days of serving him were coming to an end. I was ready to sing songs of freedom.

After another month passed, I wondered why Raphael hadn’t returned as he had in my past life. One evening, I came home to flowers, balloons, candles, food, and music. “Keira, today marks our one-year anniversary,” Raphael said, dressed to the nines. Confused, I blinked. Seeing my lack of response, Raphael waved his hand in front of my face. “Keira, Keira, what are you thinking about?” I coughed. “Thinking of you, my dear. Wondering how much effort you put into surprising me. I’m so moved.” I feigned gratitude and snuggled into Raphael’s arms, kissing his chin. He held me tightly, rubbing his chin on my head. “It’s all for you,” he said. Fighting the urge to laugh, I remembered his past words about my “third-rate” status. “Will you ever leave me? I mean, I’m just a third-rate college grad working a third-rate job.” “Of course not!” he replied with conviction. Oh, the irony. “Really? Will you marry me then?” I asked, testing him. He faltered. Ha, caught him. “Of course I will,” he finally said. I didn’t expect him to agree, though his loathing of me was hard to miss. If only his acting skills were put to better use. Seeing him bring out a fancy velvet box, my eyes gleamed. Time to cash in. He handed it over, and I opened it, expecting a treasure. Instead, it was a red string. Disappointed, I asked, “What’s this?” “It’s a charm for your safety,” he said, oblivious to my internal stream of curses. “Really? I love it,” I lied, pecking him on the cheek. He kissed me back passionately, but my mind was on the check. The next morning, I woke to chatter. Raphael was already gone. Sore, I dragged myself to the window and saw a line of Rolls-Royces. Finally, it’s happening. I rushed downstairs barefoot. Out front, Raphael donned a sleek black suit, his gold-rimmed glasses, and a diamond-studded Rolex. Security surrounded him, bowing respectfully. The whole neighborhood was abuzz. Tears of joy welled up. I’d been waiting for this. Feigning shock, I yelled, “Who are you, and where are you taking my boyfriend?” A man in a suit pried me off Raphael. “Miss Keira, please. This is Mr. Parsons, heir to the Parsons Group. Here’s a check. Write any amount to thank you for caring for him.” I recognized the voice from that night. I trembled, tears streaming. Playing the part, I clung to Raphael. “Raphael, are you leaving me?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294580”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #玄幻Fantsy #狼人werewolf #擦边Steamy #励志Inspiring #现实主义Realistic #校园School #后宫Harem

I had a twin sister, a mirror image of myself, whom I hadn’t heard from since our parents’ tragic death. The void left by her absence had haunted me for years, a lingering shadow of what once was. Then, out of nowhere, I received a call—an invitation to her birthday party. It seemed like a chance to reconnect, to mend the fractured bond between us. I prepared myself for the occasion with careful attention, dressing up in the finest attire, unaware of the sinister plot that lay beneath the surface. As I arrived at the venue, the air was filled with a false sense of celebration. Yet, what awaited me was a brutal nightmare that would forever alter the course of my life. My sister’s husband, consumed by a wrathful rage, turned the evening into a scene of unspeakable violence. I was dragged, beaten, and humiliated in front of a crowd that mistook me for someone else. The agony I endured was not just physical but deeply emotional, culminating in the loss of my unborn child. Each blow, each moment of pain, was a grim testament to the cruelty that lay hidden behind the facade of family and festivity. In that harrowing moment of suffering, the horrifying truth revealed itself The wheel of fate, a relentless force, spun on with unforgiving precision. —— I stepped into the grand hall, where laughter and clinking glasses wove a tapestry of celebration. The opulent chandeliers above bathed the room in a warm, golden glow, their brilliance a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling within me. Despite the grandeur of the setting, my thoughts were consumed by the voice I had just heard on the other end of the line. “Elenor, are you here? It’s my birthday, I’m so glad! I miss you so much!” Amy’s voice had come through the receiver, sweet and inviting yet tinged with a tremor that spoke volumes of unspoken feelings. I paused, the air heavy with anticipation and the weight of years that had passed since we were last together. My breath hitched in my throat as I surveyed the room. The grandeur and luxury around me seemed almost surreal, a gilded backdrop to the painful memories and unresolved emotions that bubbled to the surface. I clutched the small, velvet box in my hand, its weight both reassuring and heavy with significance. Inside lay the diamond bracelet, a gem that had become the symbol of all my hopes and dreams for this reunion. It sparkled with the brilliance of our childhood fantasies, a treasure not just in its worth but in the irreplaceable memories it embodied. Every facet of the bracelet seemed to capture the light of our shared past, a beacon of the bond we once had. As I approached the grand entrance, my steps resonated with a mix of nervous excitement and longing. Then, just as I was about to cross the threshold, my phone buzzed insistently in my hand. The name flashing on the screen made my heart skip a beat, its familiarity both thrilling and unnerving. t was Amy. “Elenor, are you here?” Her voice, so familiar yet touched with a haunting distance, cut through the tension of the moment I paused, the echo of her voice resonating deep within my chest, stirring a torrent of emotions that I had long kept at bay. Each syllable seemed to wrap around my heart, a bittersweet reminder of the years lost and the bond we once shared. “I’m here, Amy,” I replied, my voice barely more than a whisper, yet it held the weight of every shared memory and every unspoken word. “I’m here.” “Can you have someone take my bag? I left it on the rear seat of my car.” There was a brief pause on the line, and then his voice came through, rich with a warmth that felt like a comforting embrace. “I’ll be there,” A rush of emotions surged through me, overwhelming my senses as memories of our fractured past swirled like a storm in my mind. Our parents, once the steadfast anchors of our lives, had been ripped away in a tragic accident that shattered the very foundation of our existence. I still remember that dreadful day with piercing clarity—the shock that hit me like a tidal wave, the profound grief that followed, leaving me with a hollow emptiness so deep it felt like it might swallow me whole. The world had seemed to crumble around me, its colors fading into a grim gray as the weight of loss settled heavily on my shoulders. Amy, my twin, had been abroad, engrossed in her studies when the tragedy struck. The cruel twist of fate had kept us apart in our darkest hour. Since that fateful day, the silence from her side had been a deafening void, a painful reminder of the bond severed by distance and circumstance. Every fleeting memory of her, every echo of our shared laughter and childhood dreams, now felt like fragile fragments scattered in the win. The thought of seeing Amy again, of finally sitting beside her at the main table, ignited a profound, almost overwhelming sense of gratitude within me. Despite everything, we had found our way back to each other. And now, I was ready to embrace the sister I had missed for so long. As soon as I stepped into the venue, my heart still racing with the anticipation of reuniting with Amy, something sharp and unexpected shattered the moment. Before I could even register what was happening, a hand grabbed my hair, yanking me back with a force that sent a jolt of pain down my spine. “Amy!” The voice, sharp and venomous, sliced through the festive air like a blade, causing a jarring dissonance to the cheerful ambiance of the hall. The rage in the tone was palpable, a storm of fury that seemed to crackle with electric intensity. My mind reeled, struggling to piece together the disorienting assault on my senses. The words came like a thunderclap, each syllable laden with a bitterness that seemed to seep into the very fabric of the celebration. “How dare you show up? You made me a cuckold! I gasped, my heart pounding in my chest. The room blurred as I tried to regain my balance, the words slicing through the confusion like a knife. My hand instinctively reached up to defend myself, but the grip on my hair tightened, dragging me closer to the source of the fury. “Today, I’ll show everyone what you have done!” His voice roared through the room, each word imbued with a seething rage that seemed to shake the very foundations of the grand hall. .My head buzzed with confusion and disbelief, struggling to process the full weight of his enraged proclamation. The guests, initially caught up in the revelry of the occasion, now stood frozen in stunned silence. Their expressions shifted from festive cheer to bewildered shock My scalp burned with a fierce, searing pain where he gripped my hair, the physical agony only a fraction of the torment I felt inside. “Now that you’ve made me lose face, you’re a dead ,eat!” he snarled, his voice rising to a fever pitch. The crowd around us was frozen in a collective gasp, the festive atmosphere shattered beyond repair. Faces that had once been lit with joy were now etched with shock and disbelief as they witnessed the spectacle unfolding before them. Amy’s husband, John Winson, had transformed into someone I scarcely recognized. His face twisted with fury, he yanked my hair with such force that my scalp screamed in agony, and tears threatened to spill from my eyes. The room, once filled with laughter and music, now echoed with the sound of my struggle as John dragged me towards the stage. I tried to resist, but his grip was ironclad, his rage overpowering. The crowd, once celebrating, now watched in stunned silence, their faces a blur of shock and disbelief. Each step felt like a descent into a nightmare I couldn’t escape from. When we reached the center of the hall, John didn’t stop. With a brutal shove, he pressed me onto the table, forcing me down with a strength that left me gasping for breath. The cold surface beneath me contrasted sharply with the burning humiliation I felt. Every ounce of dignity I had was being stripped away as John kept me pinned down, my body shaking with a mixture of pain and fear. “I want everyone to see what a slut Amy is!” As I lay there on the table, still reeling from the pain and confusion, I could hear John’s voice cutting through the chaos. “Amy! You’re a slut!” he shouted, his voice dripping with venom. “John, Listen” I managed to croak out, my voice trembling with fear and bewilderment. Just then, a crisp, resounding sound cut through the air—a slap. The sting of John’s hand burning across my face. The air in the room grew thick with a palpable tension as John’s voice cut through the murmur of the crowd. “Then I’ll show everyone how slutty you are!” he roared, his eyes blazing with a malevolent fire. “Play the voice record!” With a snap of his fingers,the room fell into an eerie silence . My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a drum of foreboding In the voice recording, Amy’s voice was unmistakable. “Push harder, please,” she begged, her words laced with a desperate, pleading tone. Each utterance was a knife to my heart, but the horror escalated with the realization that there were not just one, but multiple voices—sounds of different men, their breaths and groans mingling with Amy’s own. The record played on, the sounds of her pleas and their responses blending into a cacophony of betrayal. The room erupted into gasps and whispers, the crowd’s shock palpable. The once-joyous atmosphere was now a vortex of scandal and disgrace. My own mind reeled, caught between disbelief and devastation. “A woman like her should be beaten hard!” came the final, chilling statement, a dark echo of violence that sent shivers down my spine. My scalp went numb as the words pounded into my consciousness, each statement a brutal blow that left me reeling. The crowd’s scorn was a palpable force, a tidal wave of hatred that threatened to drown me. My mind struggled to keep pace with the unfolding horror, but one realization cut through with chilling clarity—I was mistaken for Amy. ” I’m not Amy! ” I quickly explained loudly. John’s face contorted with fury as he turned towards me, his eyes blazing with an unrelenting anger. Before I could brace myself, his hand swung through the air with a brutal force. The slap landed with a sickening crack, the sting of it burning across my cheek. My head snapped to the side from the impact, and I staggered “Shut up!” John’s grip was relentless as he yanked me up from the table, dragging me toward the center of the stage where everyone could see. My legs felt like lead, each step a struggle as I tried to steady myself amid the confusion and pain. The room seemed to spin around me, the faces in the crowd a blur of judgment and hostility. “Look at her! She won’t even own up to her mistakes! She’s nothing but a fraud!” As the voice recording blared on, a chilling realization cut through the haze of confusion and anguish. A man’s voice echoed through the speakers,. “Didn’t you want this limited version bracelet last time? I bought it for you.” The words were a dagger to my heart. The bracelet he mentioned was no ordinary piece of jewelry—it was the exact same one I had meticulously chosen as a birthday present for Amy My heart ached with the strain of waiting, each second dragging by as I clung to the hope that Mike’s arrival would turn the tide. The thought struck me like a bolt of lightning. The party, which I had once seen as a hopeful reunion, was nothing more than a meticulously orchestrated trap. John’s rage was a storm of fury, his face twisted with a wrath that seemed to consume him completely. “Bitch! Keep denying it!” he spat, his voice a venomous hiss that cut through the tumult of the room. “Look at your bracelet! He gave it to you yesterday, and you came here with it today with that! You shameless bitch!” With a fierce grip, John seized my arm, his fingers like iron bands around my flesh. He dragged me across the stage, his movements brutal and unrelenting. My heart raced, each beat a frantic plea for this nightmare to end. He forced me to the ground, my wrist pressed against the cold, unforgiving surface. The pressure was immediate and crushing as he ground my wrist against the hard floor, a relentless force that made me cry out in pain. Desperation clawed at my throat as I struggled against the intense pain . “Can you listen to me? I really am not Amy!” I pleaded, my voice trembling as I tried to pierce through the storm of fury that enveloped John. John’s eyes, cold and unrelenting, remained fixed on me, his rage a formidable wall that seemed impenetrable. He brandished the bracelet with a fierce, almost manic intensity, its glittering surface catching the light in a way that seemed to taunt me. “You think you can just play innocent?” he spat, his voice a harsh. “You’re nothing but a lying whore!” John’s rage reached a fever pitch as he snapped the bracelet, the once-gleaming diamonds scattering across the floor like cruel confetti. The sound of the diamonds hitting the ground was a harsh, discordant note in the otherwise frantic chaos of the room. “If I remember correctly, you like it, don’t you?” John’s voice was a low growl, filled with a twisted satisfaction. “Alright then! I will plant it into your skin!” With a deranged fervor, John began to forcefully stuff the diamonds into my skin. Each piece of sharp, unyielding gem was driven into my flesh with a brutal force, the pain an unbearable fire that seared through every nerve. The diamonds dug into my skin, tearing through it with a sickening crunch, and each inch of the cruel intrusion was accompanied by a gush of blood that stained the floor beneath me. I could feel the diamonds cutting deeper, the sharp edges carving into my flesh and causing the blood to pool and seep out. Every instinct screamed at me to fight back, to prevent the diamonds from embedding deeper into my flesh. I twisted and writhed, my body slick with sweat and blood, the agony of the diamonds piercing my skin a constant, blinding torment. Just as I thought I might find some respite, John’s sister stormed onto the stage, her face a mask of rage and contempt. “You disgrace us! You bitch!” she yelled, her voice cutting through the chaos with a vicious edge. Her words were like a lash to my already wounded spirit. She seized my arm with a vice-like grip, adding her strength to John’s relentless assault. With her holding me down, John’s fury escalated further. He took advantage of the moment, forcefully jamming a diamond into my back. The sharp, cold gem sliced through my flesh with a sickening crunch, and the pain that exploded was a nauseating shock that made me cry out in anguish. The crowd around us, a grotesque assembly of onlookers, responded with a horrifying approval. John’s relatives, their faces twisted with malicious glee, began to applaud the scene before them. The air seemed to press down on me with an unbearable heaviness, and I could barely draw a breath. I stumbled forward, my hands instinctively reaching up to clutch at my throat,Blood began to seep from the wounds, staining the floor beneath me in a grotesque pool of red. The cheers and jeers that had filled the room were replaced by a haunting silence, broken only by the soft, disturbing sounds of my labored breathing and the trickle of blood pooling around me. With every ounce of willpower, I raised my head, my voice barely more than a strained whisper against the backdrop of my agony. “My husband is coming, and you will be over!” Laughter erupted, harsh and mocking, a cruel symphony that echoed through the hall. “What?” someone shouted, their tone dripping with derision. “Your husband?“ With those harsh words hanging in the air, John lunged towards me, his anger boiling over into a physical assault. His hands grasped at my dress with a violent force, tearing at the fabric with a frenzied determination. The sound of the fabric ripping was a brutal counterpoint to the desperate cries that escaped my lips. “Strip her, lash her, and fuck her, since you like to be fucked by men!” John roared, his voice a brutal command that shattered the fragile veneer of civility in the room. As John’s harsh command echoed through the room, his friends surged forward with a frenzied eagerness, their hands reaching out with ruthless intent. The room became a chaotic blur of motion as they descended upon me, their grip unyielding and determined. I fought back with every ounce of strength I had, my hands desperately trying to shield myself from their relentless assault. But against the sheer number of them, my resistance was futile. Their hands tore at my dress with a cruel efficiency, ripping through the fabric with a merciless disregard for my dignity. The sound of tearing cloth was a harsh, discordant symphony that filled the air, each rip a searing reminder of my helplessness. The last remnants of my dress were soon reduced to tatters, and I was left exposed in a state of complete vulnerability. The cold air against my bare skin was a stark contrast to the searing pain and the overwhelming humiliation I felt. My body was now on display, subjected to the harsh gaze of the jeering crowd. Someone began to reach out, their hands closing in on my exposed skin. I twisted and writhed, trying to dodge their touch, but the movement only intensified the sickening pain that shot through me. “Get out!” I yelled, my voice raw and desperate, but it was as if my words were swallowed by the storm of cruelty around me. The man paused, his expression vacant and unsettling, caught in a trance-like daze. John, his face a mask of unrelenting fury, stepped forward with a grim determination. He grabbed my arm with a vice-like grip and forced me to the ground, pinning me with a ruthless efficiency that left me utterly vulnerable. “Go on!” John’s command was a harsh, unyielding demand that reverberated through the room. The man, now driven by John’s cruel edict, did not hesitate. He extended his grotesque, repulsive tongue, his mouth emitting a foul odor that made my stomach churn violently. The sight and smell were unbearable, a nauseating assault that left me feeling utterly degraded and revolted. The air was thick with a sense of dread and despair, the echoes of my anguish mingling with the grotesque actions of those around me. Amidst the chaos, a new detail seized the crowd’s attention. Their eyes shifted with a mix of shock and intrigue as they noticed the slightly bulging curve of my abdomen, a stark and undeniable sign of my pregnancy. The revelation seemed to shift the atmosphere, amplifying John’s rage into a twisted, almost primal fury. His face, already contorted with anger, now twisted into something even darker. “If I hadn’t found out about all this today,” he spat, his voice quaking with the intensity of his emotions, “were you planning to let me raise someone else’s child for the rest of my life?” The sight of my pregnancy seemed to ignite a fury within him that bordered on madness. With a violent, jarring motion, John lifted his foot and drove it with unrestrained force into my exposed belly. The sharp, unforgiving pain was immediate and overwhelming, as though the very force of his kick shattered the fragile barrier between life and death within me. I clutched at my abdomen with both hands, desperately trying to shield it from the relentless assault. My fingers dug into my flesh, but it was no use—the pain was all-encompassing, a merciless wave that crashed over me with every breath I took. The world around me seemed to blur and darken. The once-clear line between pain and suffering dissolved into a suffocating haze of torment, leaving me gasping and shuddering as the crowd watched in horrified silence. Bright red blood began to trickle down my thighs, a stark and horrifying contrast against my pale, trembling skin. Suddenly, the grand doors swung open with a dramatic creak, and a procession of figures entered with a commanding presence. The crowd fell into a stunned silence as they took in the imposing sight of my husband, Mike Shura, leading the way.

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The day I got a job offer, Cindy, my cousin’s wife, announced she was pregnant. Just as the whole family was celebrating, Cindy suddenly said: “Now that Sierra has found a job, and I’m pregnant, it’s going to be inconvenient to live together once the baby arrives. Maybe Sierra should move out?” The room fell silent. Seeing that no one agreed, Cindy backed down a little: “If you insist on staying, fine, but you’ll need to pay $10,000 a month for living expenses!” But the house we’re living in now is mine, and the money we use comes from me. Who should really be paying whom? 0 The day I received my offer letter, Uncle Mark made a huge feast, bringing out his best wine. Even Jason, my cousin, who was usually too busy with work, rushed home before dinner. After a few rounds of drinks, Cindy, who had been quietly eating, suddenly spoke. “I’m pregnant.” The room went silent for a few seconds before it burst into laughter and excitement. Jason’s face turned red with joy as he stared at Cindy’s belly. “Really? Cindy, why didn’t you tell me?” Cindy smiled shyly. “I wanted to surprise you.” No one was happier than Uncle Mark and Aunt Linda. Jason and Cindy had been married for three years without having any children. Finally, they had something to brag about to the relatives. I was genuinely happy for Cindy and thought to myself, I’ll definitely give my future niece or nephew a big gift. As the joyful atmosphere grew, Cindy suddenly put down her chopsticks. “There’s one more thing I want to mention,” she said. Aunt Linda, her eyes still full of joy, asked, “What is it?” “I think Sierra should move out,” Cindy said with a cold expression. “She’s already found a job, and now that I’m pregnant, it’s going to be inconvenient after the baby is born.” The room instantly became silent, and Uncle Mark and Aunt Linda’s faces grew awkward. Cindy, though usually quiet, had never spoken to me with such a cold tone. I had always thought she was nice, so I responded kindly, “There shouldn’t be any inconvenience. I’m not a guy, and when the baby arrives, I can even help take care of it.” “When the baby comes, there won’t be enough room for everyone.” “How could that be?” I said, trying to be considerate. “We can clean up the attic floor and make room for your little family. There will be more than enough space.” This estate house was large, with several rooms on each floor. We had been living comfortably on the second floor for years. Cindy shot me an inexplicable glare. Aunt Linda chimed in to reassure her, “Cindy, don’t worry, we’ll make sure neither you nor the baby is uncomfortable.” Cindy wasn’t finished. “When I have the baby, I’ll be recovering and won’t be able to move around or dress properly. It’s just not right to have an outsider in the house.” Suddenly, her expression softened again. “Sierra, I’m not trying to force you out, but you’ve been living here for so many years. Isn’t it time you moved on?” Seeing my face darken, Cindy added, “Your parents passed away early. When you were in college and grad school, my in-laws covered all your living expenses. “Nowadays, young women are all about independence. It’s time you learned some self-respect and started living on your own.” I looked around at Uncle Mark and Aunt Linda. Uncle Mark, who had been silent for a long time, finally slammed his hand on the table, yelling at Cindy: “That’s enough! You’re getting out of line. Jason, take your wife back to your room!” Jason quickly stepped in to defend her. “Dad, Cindy’s pregnant! Why are you yelling at her? Besides, she’s not wrong.” Uncle Mark lost it. He slammed his glass down and shouted at Jason, “Then you can get out too!” 0

Cindy wasn’t wrong. My parents had passed away when I was young. My dad, Steve, was a company owner, and my mom, Mary, was an architect. Seven years ago, they were in a car accident and both became comatose. That year, I was about to take my college entrance exams, juggling between school and the hospital. It quickly became too much, and I started thinking about hiring a nurse. When Uncle Mark found out, he came to me and said, “Sierra, you don’t need to hire a nurse. Aunt Linda and I can take care of them.” I wasn’t sure about it. Uncle Mark had always been kind to me, but taking care of one person in a coma was already hard, let alone two. “It’s no trouble,” he said, tears welling in his eyes. “They’re my sister and brother-in-law, after all. No one will care for them better than family.” Plus, Mrs. Hudson, who shared a hospital room with my parents, told me some nurses don’t take care of patients properly. Bedsores, neglect — it wasn’t uncommon. After thinking it over, I agreed and paid Uncle Mark and Aunt Linda triple the normal rate to take care of my parents. They did a great job. Every time I visited, there was no smell or mess on them. They looked after my parents for over a year before both passed away. I went to college in another city. Some people suggested I sell the estate house. But I couldn’t. This house had been my parents’ marital home, every tree and room designed by my mother. I wanted someone to take care of the house while I was away. When Uncle Mark heard this, he volunteered. And so, they moved in — and stayed for years. When I started grad school, Uncle Mark and Aunt Linda urged me to move back home, saying they could help look after me. After today’s confrontation with Cindy, I finally understood why she had been distant with me all along. After Jason and Cindy left, I asked Uncle Mark, “Does Cindy not know about the house?” Aunt Linda smiled nervously. “That’s my fault. I told Cindy and her family that the house was ours.” “You know Jason’s family insisted they wouldn’t marry him off unless he had a house. But you know we don’t have money. So, we had to say the house was ours.” I could understand that. Uncle Mark had never been responsible. My parents had arranged several jobs for him, but he never stuck with any of them, always relying on my family’s support to start his own. But in recent years, Uncle Mark and Aunt Linda had been good to me. I gently said: “You can only hide the truth for so long. It’s better to explain this to Cindy sooner rather than later. If she really needs a house, I have another one I could let them live in.” Uncle Mark replied, “Sierra, you’ve done more than enough for us. Don’t worry. I would never take advantage of you.” Hearing that, tears welled up in my eyes. “Uncle Mark, we’re family. Don’t say that.” Without Uncle Mark, I would have had no home. 0

With Uncle Mark’s assurance, I didn’t think much more about the matter. For the next few days, I saw Cindy around the house. She was either giving me cold looks or making passive-aggressive comments while watching TV. “Some people really have no shame, living in someone else’s house like it’s their own. You can’t even kick them out,” she would say, clearly directed at me. “Certain people think they’re some kind of pampered princess, like everyone adores them. But honestly, people can’t stand her.” I kept quiet, hoping Uncle Mark and Aunt Linda would handle it. I had just started my new job and was swamped with work. I often stayed late at the office, only returning home long after everyone had gone to bed. One night, I came home earlier than usual, but it was already dark. The house was silent as everyone had gone to sleep. I quietly made my way upstairs, wanting nothing more than to collapse on my bed. But the moment I lay down, I heard a sharp scream: “Ouch!” I jumped up, and the room lights came on. There, lying in my bed, was Cindy, dressed in her nightgown, staring at me in shock. Uncle Mark and Aunt Linda rushed in. “What happened?” Uncle Mark asked. I tried to stay calm. “Cindy, why are you in my bed?” Cindy’s face turned cold. “This is my house. I can sleep wherever I want.” I frowned, confused and irritated. Aunt Linda pulled me out of the room, trying to smooth things over. “Sierra, I forgot to tell you. Cindy moved into your room.” “When?” “This afternoon. She said she wanted to enjoy the sunlight through the large window.” My room, which my mother had designed especially for me, had a huge floor-to-ceiling window. When the sun rose, the room would be filled with light. In the winter, it was the warmest and coziest spot in the house. I was upset. They had moved her into my room without even asking me. Aunt Linda noticed my displeasure and softened her tone even further. “Sierra, I’m sorry. We didn’t ask for your permission, but Cindy’s pregnant, and her morning sickness is really bad. She said the sunlight makes her feel better.” I had friends who were pregnant. I knew pregnancy could make women act strangely because of hormonal changes. Uncle Mark came out looking frustrated. “What is going on here? Everyone gets pregnant, but no one behaves like this. She can’t just take over your room! Cindy needs to move out of there.” I quickly intervened. “It’s fine, Uncle Mark.” Uncle Mark had always been protective of me, no matter what happened. I didn’t want to cause tension between him and Aunt Linda, so I said: “Really, it’s okay. I’ll just sleep in another room. Cindy’s pregnant, and she needs the space more.” Uncle Mark hesitated, looking conflicted. “But this is unfair to you.” I smiled. “We’re family. It’s not a big deal. Besides, where did you move my things?” Aunt Linda replied, “We put everything in the room on the far west side.” The west room was the smallest in the house. It didn’t get much sunlight and had just one small window. It was originally meant for the housekeeper. Moving from the best room to the worst one didn’t sit well with me, but seeing Uncle Mark’s troubled expression made me let it go. 0

The day I signed my first big contract at work, I stopped by the house in the afternoon to grab some documents. I thought about asking Aunt Linda if she’d like to celebrate with me over dinner. As I approached their bedroom door, I overheard Aunt Linda speaking to Uncle Mark. “What are we going to do? Cindy says if we don’t get Sierra out of the house soon, she’ll never let us see our grandson.” “We just need to wait a little longer,” Uncle Mark replied. “Wait for what? Cindy hasn’t even let Jason sleep in the bed these last few days!” Aunt Linda was panicking. “And what about the medicine? We’ve been giving it to Sierra for over three years, and she’s still perfectly healthy. When is she going to die?” The hairs on my neck stood up. What medicine? Aunt Linda wanted me dead. It suddenly made sense. Since moving back home, my health had deteriorated. I used to be so resilient, but now a simple breeze left me feeling feverish. I’d been suffering from nosebleeds and losing hair for no apparent reason. “How can you not see it working?” Uncle Mark revealed another horrifying secret. “How do you think her parents died? We drugged them to death.” A chill ran down my spine. No wonder my parents’ conditions had suddenly worsened when they were previously stable. Aunt Linda sighed. “Should we increase the dosage?” Uncle Mark thought for a moment before nodding. “That might work. Her parents lasted a year before they died. It’s been three years for Sierra, so no one will suspect anything if she goes now.” “We should’ve just had someone run her over years ago. Instead, we’ve dragged this out, and now she’s almost spent all her parents’ inheritance.” “What are you worried about? It’s all going to be ours eventually.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My mind went blank. Uncle Mark’s kindness had all been an act. They’d been poisoning me this entire time. And my parents’ deaths—were they truly accidents? I stumbled downstairs in a daze, passing through the living room, where Cindy was watching TV. “Sierra,” she called out in an unusually friendly tone. “Come over here for a moment.” I was still in shock, but I managed to respond, “Do you need something, Cindy?” “I’ve been thinking,” she said, her voice sickly sweet. “It’s not right to kick you out now that you’ve just started working.” What’s going on? Before I could figure out her intentions, she continued, “We’re not really family, after all. Jason is already supporting the entire household. Since you’ve found a job, you should help out. I think it’s only fair for you to start paying $10,000 a month for living expenses. You’d have to pay even more if you were renting somewhere else.” So, that’s her game. I smiled coldly. “That’s perfectly fair, Cindy. But I guess you didn’t know this estate is actually mine.” 0

Cindy froze, staring at me in disbelief. “What are you talking about? That’s impossible!” “It’s true,” I replied. “Not just the house, but all the expenses around here—food, utilities, everything—have been paid by me.” Before I moved back in, Uncle Mark had been taking care of the estate and would request maintenance money every month. It was always something: the lawn mower had broken, or the walls needed repainting. As a student, I didn’t know much about these things, so I gave him whatever he asked for. Since I returned, I’d taken on all the household expenses. Thinking back, I realized I needed to check the finances more closely. “You’re lying!” Cindy’s voice was shrill as Uncle Mark and Aunt Linda entered the room, looking surprised to see me. Aunt Linda was the first to speak. “Sierra, why are you home so early today?” Before I could answer, Cindy pointed at me and said, “Mom, she’s claiming this house belongs to her. Is that true?” Both Uncle Mark and Aunt Linda’s faces darkened. Aunt Linda quickly tried to cover it up. “No, no, Cindy, she’s just joking.” She shot me a warning glance, but I ignored her. Instead, I pulled the house deed from my bag and tossed it onto the coffee table.

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We broke up a year ago. Out of the blue, my ex-boyfriend, Jack Hart, decided to come back from the dead and text me. “Do you remember that lipstick you used to wear when we were together? What was the shade? I’m trying to buy one for my crush.” I paused for two seconds, then replied. “Oh, I forgot. You should ask one of your basketball teammates, he’s the one who bought it for me.” My phone stayed quiet for about two seconds before it started buzzing non-stop. “WTF!” “Who? Which teammate?” “Who the hell is it?!” “Answer me, I’m begging you.” I sent him a smirking emoji. “None of your business.” Friday night. I was happily slurping down my favorite mac & cheese when Jack decided to pop back into my life. Seeing the text light up my phone, I nearly did a 360-degree jump off the couch. Not because I missed him, but because there’s a certain satisfaction in knowing I won. When we broke up, I went all out—deleted and blocked Jack from everywhere. Complete breakup protocol. But I left his number untouched, waiting to see who would break first. He did. I immediately took a screenshot and called up my bestie, Sarah Grim: “Guess who just texted me? Jack!” She gasped, “No way! What does he want?” “Obviously, he’s realized how good he had it with me and is probably crying his eyes out right now.” I opened his message, ready to read some heartfelt apology or something, and hit him with a quick TD (which stands for “Too Dumb,” just my go-to response for these situations). But when I saw the content, the smile froze on my face. “Do you remember that lipstick you used to wear? What shade was it? I want to buy it for my crush.” Wow. Not only did he move on, but he’s chasing some new girl already. Guess the joke’s on me. Jack, always the smooth-talker. I took two seconds and shot back: “Oh, forgot. Why don’t you ask one of your basketball teammates? He bought it for me.” Then I shut off my phone. When I came back from washing dishes, I saw 99+ notifications. “?” “Anna, you better explain yourself!” “WTF!!” “Which teammate?!” “Who the hell is it? You better tell me!” “Where are you?!” “Answer me, I’m begging you.” “Don’t pretend you didn’t see this.” “So, you’re not going to tell me, huh?” Jack’s messages were flying in like they were free. I had no choice but to hit him with my ultimate move. I sent him a cheeky little emoji of a yellow bean sticking its tongue out, captioned: “None of your business.” The messages stopped for a moment. Then— “Anna Carter!” “You wait. I’m coming to your house right now.” Uh-oh. Someone’s pissed.

Jack and I started dating back in college, but we broke up after graduation. He’s a total contradiction. Before we dated, he had this cold, brooding, “untouchable” vibe. Once we started dating, though, that mouth of his turned sharp as a knife. If I took off my jacket, he’d say I looked like a bird spreading its wings. If I bent down to tie my shoes, he’d joke that I was a Transformer. This “untouchable” guy turned out to have a real gift for being annoying. I ranted to Sarah about it, and she said it’s just this thing now—boyfriends with “unexpected contrast.” Apparently, it’s trendy. But, to be fair, Jack had his good points. For example, he did all my elective course assignments. He also somehow got me through calculus, which I’d have failed without his help. And even my thesis framework? All Jack’s doing. It was so good it got voted “Outstanding Thesis,” and Jack stayed up late making the PowerPoint for my defense. The price of being an “academic queen” was that while Jack was killing it in his internship on Wall Street, I was just a lowly editor at a small studio. That’s also when we started drifting apart. Jack was swamped with his internship at the investment firm, so we barely talked. I’d hear from him two or three times a week, which was a far cry from what we used to be. I got it, though. He was working hard to secure his future. But what really ticked me off was this one time he finally had some time to be with me. After we had an amazing time together, I wanted to lie there and just trace my fingers over his six-pack. But nope. Jack got up, grabbed his laptop, and went straight back to work. Talk about cold-hearted. I lost it. I ripped off the necklace he bought me with his first paycheck and threw it at him. “Jack, I want to break up.” His face twisted, storm clouds gathering. Just thinking about it makes me shudder. Ugh, bad vibes. I lay down and tried to count sheep: “Jack’s cursed, cursed, cursed…” Just as I was drifting off, my phone rang. I sat up straight: “What? Jack’s in the hospital?” Was my wish that powerful? Should I buy a lottery ticket? “Miss Carter, you should come to the hospital. It’s not looking good.”

I rushed to St. Thomas’ Hospital. The emergency department was packed with people. I finally found the VIP ward and pushed the door open. Jack looked up at the sound. His white shirt was stained with a large patch of blood, half of his body exposed, arm in a cast. Luckily, that pretty face of his was still intact. The doctor handed me the report: “The patient was in a car accident. He’s got severe abrasions on his back, a broken arm, and a concussion.” That serious? Did he hit his head too? “He’s not going to have amnesia, is he?” I walked over to Jack and asked if he still knew who he was. Jack stared at me for a long moment before shaking his head. Great. This kind of cheesy plot only happens in bad TV dramas. Now it’s happening to me. The doctor sighed. “Miss Carter, please go to the front desk to settle the bill.” I blinked. “But I barely know him.” The doctor turned to Jack. “Didn’t you say she’s your girlfriend?” I shot him a glare. What’s going on? Jack quietly pulled out his phone and showed the doctor a picture of us together. In the photo, we were all cozy, kissing in the throes of young love. As if that wasn’t enough, he pulled up an old social media post from our college days—us, the perfect campus couple. I couldn’t believe he still had that. I had a sneaking suspicion Jack had been waiting for this exact moment to trap me. The doctor, convinced we were just a quarreling couple, waved it off and left. Now it was just the two of us in the room. I dropped the act. “I don’t have any money, so I’m leaving.” Jack suddenly grabbed me, but he accidentally tugged at his injured back, letting out a low, pained hiss. That sound… deep, restrained… Let’s just say it didn’t take much to make my mind go places, especially in the middle of the night, in a quiet hospital room. Jack, shameless as ever, gave me these big, sad puppy-dog eyes. “Babe, are we fighting? All the photos in my gallery are of you, and the chat logs are with you. Why can I only text you?” I swear, Jack’s face could make anyone weak. And now, with the added battle scars? It was almost too much. I clenched my hands to stop myself from swooning and said, “Jack, are you seriously faking amnesia?” “How long have we been broken up?” Jack’s breathing hitched, and he let his hand fall. “Babe, I’m not faking it. My memory might be foggy, but my love for you isn’t. “No matter what happened before, I’m sorry. “Don’t leave me, okay?” I couldn’t take it anymore. Even the strongest woman in the world wouldn’t be able to resist Jack when he was being all soft and vulnerable. What, was he bankrupt now? Faking amnesia just to save on hospital bills? Jack pulled out his phone. “Babe, can we at least add each other back on WhatsApp?” I responded coldly, “No way. Do you think you’re on my level to even ask?” Jack, unfazed, continued, “Babe, I’ll transfer you twenty grand. “Just pay the bill tonight, and you can keep the rest.” I have to admit, I finally found a man with a soft heart and a fat wallet. Without hesitation, I pulled out my phone. “Alright, fine.” Jack smiled in relief and scanned my WhatsApp. As soon as I walked out of the hospital, I called up Sarah and told her the entire weird story. Sarah immediately replied: “He’s faking it! He thinks life is some kind of soap opera. Be careful, girl, don’t let that jerk fool you!” I sent her a screenshot of the remaining balance—over ten grand. “Don’t worry, I got the cash. I’ll be gone by tomorrow.” Playing Jack is easier than playing fetch with a dog. Sarah sent me a big thumbs-up and a sharp review: “Only a tough girl like you could handle someone like him! You’re amazing, Anna!”

By the time I was done with everything, it was already past midnight. I figured I’d just crash at Jack’s VIP hospital room for the night. It would save me from hearing him complain that I took the money and ran. Dragging my feet back to the room, I found Jack sitting there like a sad, abandoned puppy. The moment he saw me come back, his eyes lit up. “You’re back.” I nodded and headed straight for the visitor’s bed, pulling the blanket over myself. The silence in the room was thick, the kind that buzzes with unspoken words. Jack broke it, his eyes boring into me. “Babe, who’s this ‘teammate’ you mentioned in your text?” I stiffened. I knew this was coming. “Why did he buy you lipstick? What shade was it?” I sat up abruptly. Of course, this was going to be a thing. When people are uncomfortable, they tend to fidget. I couldn’t come up with a decent explanation because, well… his teammate really did buy me that lipstick! But still, we were broken up. Jack had no right to grill me about it. I shot back, “I haven’t even asked you about this ‘crush’ you’re chasing. How long have you been after her, huh? Were you into her before we broke up?” Jack’s face darkened immediately. “I can’t remember much right now, but I know one thing for sure—I never had a crush.” Ah, so now we’re playing the amnesia card again. I rolled my eyes and lay back down, opening up TikTok to distract myself. The algorithm must know me well because it immediately started showing me videos of ripped, shirtless guys with abs for days. I started tapping the little red hearts, drooling at the sight. I didn’t even notice the way Jack’s gaze was drilling holes into me. Finally, my phone flashed the low-battery warning, and I turned to him. “Hey, did you bring a charger?” I wasn’t really expecting him to have one, but to my surprise, Jack mumbled, “In my bag.” Who brings a charger to the hospital? Typical Jack, always prepared. I hopped out of bed to grab it from his bag. He had one of those fancy leather briefcases, the kind every finance guy on Wall Street seems to own. But what really caught my eye was the tiny peanut keychain hanging off the side, completely out of place with the rest of the bag. I smiled, remembering that I’d given him that keychain for his birthday. I’d told him it symbolized “good things to come.” He’d acted all annoyed when I gave it to him, but here it was, still with him after all this time. Damn it, memories were starting to hit me again. I quickly found the charger and jumped back into bed. The next morning, I woke up to something that nearly made me choke. There was Jack, squatting next to my bed, completely shirtless. And those abs? Right there in my face, all eight of them, glistening in the morning light. No filters. No censorship. “Morning, babe. You’re finally up.” Babe? Jack only used that word in… well, certain situations. Yesterday, he’d been grossing me out with it all night. Now, we were doing this again? His face inched closer to mine, and I panicked. I shoved him away. “Seriously, dude? I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet!”

I never realized just how strong I was until that moment. Jack’s tall frame—what, he’s like 6’2”?—fell right to the ground with just one push. Unfortunately, he landed on his injured arm and winced. That pained sound he made? It was, well… let’s just say it made my heart skip a beat. Frantically, I jumped out of bed to help him up. My hand, completely on its own, managed to “accidentally” graze those glorious abs. Yep, still as firm and smooth as ever. Actually, they were even more defined than they had been back in college. Jack smirked, clearly enjoying this way too much. He grabbed my hand and pressed it against his abs, pushing my fingers along the ridges. With a low, seductive voice, he whispered in my ear, “You like them? I worked out just for you.” Cue instant heart palpitations. My face flushed as I yanked my hand back. “Have you no shame?” Instead of getting angry, Jack burst out laughing, his grin so wide it practically reached the back of his head. This guy… did that car accident knock something loose in his brain? He was acting like a completely different person. Before I could say anything else, the nurse walked in, clearing her throat loudly. “Alright, alright. Let’s get you patched up.” I wanted to die from embarrassment. I bolted for the bathroom to get myself together. By the time I came back, Jack had finished his treatment, sitting there in his hospital gown with a lazy smile. The nurse handed me two tubes of ointment. “Apply these once a day.” She turned to Jack, giving him a stern warning, “And no strenuous activities!” Jack winked at me as the nurse left, and I shot him a withering glare. I gathered up my things, though there wasn’t much—just my phone. Jack, still looking pitiful, asked, “Babe, where are you going?” “To work.” “But it’s Saturday.” I hesitated. Jack, ever persistent, pushed on, “I’m so badly injured, and I can’t feed myself. Can’t you stay and take care of me?” He was really laying it on thick now. “I already asked the doctor. You’ll be out of here in two or three days. You’re not exactly paralyzed.” Still, Jack wouldn’t let up. “Babe, how about this? I’ll pay you a thousand bucks a day just to bring me food.” I laughed, giving him a look. “Since when are you this loaded?” He shrugged. “I can’t remember exactly, but judging by my bank statements, I’m probably making at least a million a year.” I blinked. What the hell? I barely make seven grand a month! The gap between us was wider than I thought. “Alright, fine. I guess if it’s a humanitarian effort…” Jack’s transfer was smoother than clockwork.

Back home. I took a long, hot shower, then collapsed onto my bed, trying to make sense of everything. The extra money in my account was making my head spin. When Jack and I broke up, he acted like I owed him something. I used to fantasize about somehow making him pay, getting one over on him. Well, now I’ve got the money. But somehow, it didn’t feel as good as I thought it would. What Jack was doing didn’t feel like some desperate act of love. It felt more like he was trying to set me up, like a silent assassin. I didn’t tell Sarah about the money or anything else—she’d chew me out for sure. So, I buried myself in work to keep my mind off it. At mealtime, I ordered takeout for Jack, pretended I cooked it myself, and brought it to the hospital. Jack ate it up with enthusiasm and, for once, kept his mouth shut. He even complimented my “cooking,” saying it was great. One evening, while he was eating, I was busy working on a project. Suddenly, I heard a camera click. I looked up, frowning. “Don’t take pictures of me.” Jack, of course, ignored me, looking smug as he admired his phone screen. “I’m changing my wallpaper. The nurse thinks I’m single and keeps trying to set me up with her niece.” I bit my lip, stealing a glance at his sharp profile. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what Jack was doing. He was angling for a reunion, and I was starting to think maybe I should just let him have it—give him a way back into my life. But I needed to discuss it with Sarah first. But then, Jack slapped me with a reality check. And it hurt. A few days later, I arrived at the hospital about thirty minutes early to bring him dinner. As I reached the door to his room, I stopped dead in my tracks. There was Jack, hurriedly stripping off his suit jacket and slipping into his hospital gown. Standing next to him was a sophisticated woman, with soft, wavy hair and a form-fitting business suit that emphasized her figure. She moved with an ease that suggested they were familiar—too familiar. She was helping him with his tie, her hands brushing against his neck. “Slow down, no need to rush,” she said softly. The way they stood together, the comfortable closeness… it was clear they were more than casual acquaintances. Jack didn’t even seem to notice the intimacy of it all, letting her touch him like it was completely natural. I let out a bitter laugh, turned on my heel, and walked away. I had been played. Twice. If I ever let Jack back into my life again, I’d be a fool.

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After David finished his undercover operation, it was as if he had become a completely different person. He would often sit by himself, staring out the window, his eyes clouded with a sadness and melancholy that seemed impossible to shake. He no longer lifted our daughter in the air, spinning her around, calling her his little princess. He didn’t come home with surprise bouquets anymore, and even when I tried to be affectionate, he would awkwardly pull away. Then, on the night of Grace’s accident, I saw him standing in the rain, tenderly but desperately kissing another woman. I was still in a meeting when I got the call about Grace’s accident. Hearing the words “died on the spot” felt like a lightning bolt had struck straight through my chest, leaving me shattered. I rushed to Greenwood Memorial Funeral Home, nearly losing my mind, only to see my daughter’s twisted body lying on a cold metal table. The yellow floral sundress I had lovingly put on her that morning was now her burial shroud. The room was chaotic. Some people tried to comfort me, others were questioning what happened. The truck driver was nervously explaining, “She ran across the street! It wasn’t my fault, she came out of nowhere!” I collapsed on the floor, screaming in despair, “She would never run across the street! Where was her father? Where is he?!” “Mrs. Harris, your daughter got off the City Metro Bus alone. We didn’t see any adult with her,” the officer said gently, his voice full of pity. I had always been the one to take Grace to her after-school arts program, except for this one time when she carefully asked if her dad could take her instead. Since David had come back from his year-long undercover work, he had grown distant, cold toward both Grace and me. He spent hours staring off into space, avoiding eye contact, and had stopped calling me “Emma,” switching to the more formal “Mrs. Harris.” He’d make excuses to sit in the car smoking, and when Grace tried to cuddle, he seemed uncomfortable, sometimes even annoyed. Grace, once showered with his affection, didn’t understand why her daddy had changed. In her innocent way, she thought spending time with him might help. I agreed, sent them off, and went to my meeting. I never imagined that this one small decision would cost my daughter her life. I kept calling David, but all I got was a busy signal. With my mother-in-law Carol gravely ill and my parents far away, I was left to face the weight of this tragedy alone. Eventually, with my signature on a piece of paper, Grace was reduced to a small box of ashes. I returned to Pine Ridge Estates, holding her urn like a lifeless shell of myself, only to be stunned by what I saw. David was standing there in the pouring rain, gently tilting another woman’s face up and kissing her deeply. The woman was small and frail, slowly sinking into his embrace as he held her tightly. They kissed with such intensity, they didn’t even notice me standing there, watching. In my mind, scenes of Grace’s horrific death blended with the sight before me, creating a surreal, grotesque picture. At that moment, I didn’t know whether to feel rage or sorrow. I had no energy to scream or confront him. I just stood there, completely numb. I should have seen it coming. David’s job was always unpredictable, and when I married him, I knew I’d have to manage the household on my own. For seven years, I worked during the day and cared for my ailing mother-in-law at night. I took care of every detail of our new home by myself, even carrying tiles up six flights of stairs to save a few hundred dollars. When the neighbors tried to take advantage of me, I had to grab a kitchen knife just to defend myself. Later, during my pregnancy, I fainted in the bathroom and wasn’t found for seven or eight hours. I went through prenatal checkups alone, always feeling out of place among the couples at the clinic. When my water broke in the middle of the night, I took a cab to Saint Mary’s Hospital by myself and signed my own paperwork. In my saddest moments, David wasn’t there. In my happiest moments, he still wasn’t there. I was like a lone ranger, and when people asked where my husband was, I could only give vague answers due to the nature of his work. Eventually, people started to assume I was a widow.

I always told myself it was worth it. He loved his job, and I loved him. We had good times too. When he wasn’t too busy, he’d drive two hours just to buy me a small cake. He’d come home from work with a bouquet of roses. When I was recovering from childbirth, he stayed up all night taking care of Grace, changing diapers, feeding her, handling the housework like a pro. He used to cup my face in his hands, pressing his forehead against mine, and say, “Emma, you’ve done so much. Without you, we wouldn’t have this family.” “I’ll always love you.” Then he left for a year. I didn’t know exactly what his undercover work involved, but I once ran into him at a fish market, chopping fish with the skill of someone who’d seen more than he should. We pretended to be strangers that day, and for a whole year, I heard nothing from him. When David came back, it was like he was someone else. He could go an entire day without saying a word. He stopped caring about anything in the house. At night, he’d lie next to me in bed, but it felt like a chasm separated us. Our home was filled with awkward silences. I tried to bridge the gap between us, but David avoided me at every turn, eventually looking at me with a cold, almost mocking expression. “I never realized how much you wanted sex,” he said once, his tone dripping with sarcasm. It was only now that I finally understood what had gone wrong between us. I stood there for a long time, until the girl finally noticed me. She panicked, pushing David away, her face flushed with embarrassment as she hid in his arms. For a brief moment, David looked flustered too, before quickly regaining his composure. He shielded the girl behind him, calmly saying, “Emma, she’s innocent. Don’t take this out on her. I’ll explain everything when we get home…” “No need,” I said coldly, staring at the man I once loved. I asked slowly and deliberately, “I told you to take Grace to her after-school program. Where were you?” “I got a work call,” David replied, looking guilty. “I couldn’t get away. I saw Grace get on the bus. It was just two blocks after she got off, she knows the way.” A stabbing pain shot through my chest, bending me over as tears mixed with the rain on my face. Grace was only four years old, and he had left her to take a half-hour bus ride alone, then walk another mile. He knew better than anyone how dangerous the world could be, but he still chose to ignore the risks for his own daughter. “Was that work call to kiss this woman?!” My voice rose as I pointed at the girl trembling in his arms. She looked young, probably a college student. She bit her lip nervously, startled by my accusation. David instinctively held her closer, whispering reassurances before turning back to me with irritation in his voice. “Emma, stop scaring her. You used to be more understanding of my job’s demands…” I couldn’t hold back any longer. I lunged at him, slapping him hard across the face. The girl screamed, touching David’s face in concern, her expression filled with sympathy. “We’re getting divorced,” I said, my voice cold and final. Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked away. Two hours later, David returned. When he saw that I had packed up most of the house, he frowned deeply. “I’m exhausted, can you stop acting like a child and throwing tantrums?” “You think this is a tantrum?” I asked, my voice drained of emotion. I was too tired to even argue anymore.

“David, do you even care about this family anymore? If you did, Grace wouldn’t have—” “Tiffany is like a sister to me,” David interrupted harshly. He fell silent for a long time before he finally began to tell me about the girl. “She’s been taking care of me this whole year. She’s done so much for me.” As he talked about Tiffany, his face softened. “She’s just a kid. She knew I was married, but she couldn’t help falling for me.” “She loves watching superhero shows, has a thing for saving people. She’s gotten into some dangerous situations trying to help me.” “She’s carefree, always wearing short skirts and not caring if they ride up. She even complains that I’m too strict about it.” “We spent so many nights huddled together for warmth, holding hands, legs tangled. She’d talk endlessly about her little problems—like missing credits for graduation or annoying roommates…” He smiled wistfully, as if reliving a more carefree time in his life. “I know our relationship has crossed a line,” he finally admitted, closing his eyes as if in pain. “She’s young and doesn’t understand, but I should. I’ve already cost her a year of her life. I can’t keep holding her back.” It was hard to breathe. Did David even realize what he was saying? He was standing there, telling his wife about his love affair with someone else. It felt like I was the one intruding on his and Tiffany’s love story, as if I was the third wheel, forcing him to give up his true love just to fulfill his responsibilities to our family. David remembered all that Tiffany had done for him. But what about me? Didn’t my seven years of love, my seven years of loyalty, mean anything? After a long silence, I managed to speak. “I’ll give you your freedom.” I grabbed my suitcase and pushed past him, heading for the stairs. David caught my hand, meeting my gaze with a hint of desperation. “Emma, I swear, tonight was the last time I’ll ever see her. I still love you. I want us to give Grace a complete family…” “Don’t you dare mention Grace!” I lost control and hurled my bag at him. The sharp edge of a decoration inside the bag sliced his face and neck, and blood started dripping down. He stood there, stunned, as I walked out without looking back. I rented a small apartment near my office. While dealing with lawyers and packing up my things, I also handled the painful task of arranging Grace’s funeral. In the midst of all this, the hospital called. “Mrs. Harris, your mother-in-law’s condition has worsened. Please come as soon as possible.” My heart clenched, and I quickly grabbed my bag and rushed out. Carol was in the final stages of cancer. Ever since I married David, I had taken on the responsibility of caring for her—handling her daily needs, fetching her medication, and managing her treatments. I couldn’t relieve her pain, but I did everything else I could for her. For seven years, through rain or shine, I made sure to be by her side at the hospital at least four days a week. But for the last two days, with everything happening after Grace’s death, I hadn’t been able to visit her. My mind had been consumed with my own grief and the chaos surrounding it. When I arrived at the hospital, I hurriedly pushed open the door, only to be greeted by the sight of Tiffany sitting at Carol’s bedside, smiling brightly as she fed her soup. She wasn’t dressed the way David had described—no short skirts, nothing carefree about her. Instead, she wore long sleeves and pants, modest and neat, looking like the picture-perfect girl next door. Seeing her, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of admiration. Carol seemed completely at ease with her, the two of them chatting happily, almost like mother and daughter. “…Mom,” I croaked, my voice hoarse from exhaustion. Carol turned to me with a warm smile, waving me over. “Emma, come here! This is Tiffany, David’s colleague’s sister. Did he tell you about her?” Tiffany froze when she saw me, her face immediately showing her nervousness. She slowly stood up from the chair, awkwardly fidgeting like a scared rabbit. She mumbled, “We… we’ve met before…” I didn’t say anything, and as the silence stretched, Tiffany’s eyes grew red, tears welling up as she hurriedly ran out of the room, only to bump into David, who had just entered. Seeing him, Tiffany let out a sigh of relief, clutching his sleeve like a lifeline as she hid behind him, her eyes still full of fear. David was holding a medical report in his hand, his brow furrowed as he looked at me accusingly. “Emma, if you have issues with me, that’s fine. But my mom has never done anything to you. Is this how you’ve been taking care of her?” He threw the report onto me, and the words “critical condition,” “organ failure,” and “imminent death” stared back at me from the page. Before I could even speak, Carol’s voice boomed from the bed, “You shut your mouth!” “Without Emma, I’d have died in this hospital with no one to look after me a long time ago! You, on the other hand, barely visit me once in a blue moon. What gives you the right to accuse her of anything?!”

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The old lady next door lives alone, and she’s been mooching off my meals every day. One night, she suddenly fell ill. Out of kindness, I took her to the hospital, where she was diagnosed with late-stage colon cancer. Before I could even comfort her, her overly protective son accused me of poisoning her with my cooking. He went so far as to push me down a flight of stairs. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the moment when Mrs. Ruth Johnson had tagged me in the Nextdoor Community Group, asking me to bring her food. 0 “Sarah, are you there?” Early in the morning, Mrs. Ruth Johnson, my elderly neighbor, tagged me in the Nextdoor Community Group right on time. I stared at her message on my phone, a little dazed. Didn’t her son push me down the stairs? How can I still be seeing messages in the group? I quickly pinched my arm. Nope, I was still alive—and back to when Mrs. Johnson had just started living alone. “Sarah, I know you can see this. Can you open the door? I need to talk to you.” “You can just tell me in the group chat. I’m not really available right now.” I tried to make my reply sound as casual as possible. Mrs. Johnson posted again in the Nextdoor Community Group. “Sarah, you’re such a kind soul. My gas is out, and I don’t know how to refill the tank. Could you bring me a meal?” Her tone was so pitiful. In my past life, I was fooled by that frail and helpless act, which led me to take care of her—ultimately costing me my life! This time around, there’s no way I’m signing my own death sentence. “Gas? I don’t know how to refill it either. Why don’t you give your son a call to help you out?” I replied on purpose, but Mrs. Johnson responded like it was the most natural thing. “My son’s not around. Sarah, could you help me? You’ve always been there for me in the past.” “I’m just an old lady living on my own. If I starve to death, you being my neighbor—won’t your conscience hurt?” “Yeah, Sarah, we’re all neighbors here. What’s the harm in lending a hand?” Suddenly, someone else chimed in—it was Michael Adams, another neighbor on my floor. I smirked. “Lend a hand”? It’s never been easy for me. I’m swamped with work, so I make a simple packed lunch to bring to the office. Since Mrs. Johnson started mooching, she’s been picky about what she eats, demanding I get up at dawn to shop for her favorites at the farmer’s market. The time I wasted each day could have been enough to sit down for eight meals after work. My expenses went up fast, too. Last time around, I cooked for her for a whole month. In the end, she got cancer and blamed my cooking. I still don’t know what got into me last time. All it took was for her to ask, and I’d give in. Taking a deep breath, I replied to the nosy neighbor. “My gas is out too. Hey, Michael, you live closer to SoCalGas, don’t you? How about you help both Mrs. Johnson and me with the gas?” As soon as I sent the message, Michael backed out, “I’ve been working long hours at the construction site. No time to make it to the gas company.” “Sorry, gotta run—boss is calling.” Michael stopped responding after that. He’s always been the type to preach about kindness but never lifts a finger when it’s his turn to help. Mrs. Johnson, still with no dinner after all that back-and-forth, wasn’t ready to give up. She tagged me again. “Sarah, what are you busy with? Maybe I can wait until you’re done?” “I twisted my ankle. The doctor says I won’t be walking for at least a month or two.” “That long?” Mrs. Johnson sounded shocked. “Well then, I won’t trouble you. I can’t wait that long.” Mrs. Johnson stopped messaging in the Nextdoor Community Group. Finally, the tension left my body, and I started packing. It was time to cancel my lease and move out of this place. In my previous life, Mrs. Johnson’s son pushed me off a building at the hospital. I’ll never forget the terror of that fall, and I sure don’t want to experience it again. The best choice is to stay as far away from Mrs. Johnson as possible. 0

At 3 a.m., I was jolted awake by a notification from the group chat. It was a voice call initiated by none other than Steven Johnson, Mrs. Johnson’s son. When I didn’t answer, he started ranting in the group. “Sarah, are you even human? My mom’s out of gas and asked you for a meal, and you couldn’t be bothered?” “She’s an elderly woman! If she starves to death at home, can you live with that?” What a lunatic. How is it my responsibility if his mom eats or not? “She’s your mom, not mine. Besides, I’m not a restaurant. If I make her something and she gets sick, I’m not taking the blame!” “You’ve already made her food two or three times! You’re clearly trying to starve her to death on purpose!” Steven was completely unreasonable, and I lost it. “I sprained my ankle! I can barely make food for myself, let alone for your mom.” “If you care so much, why don’t you come over and cook for her yourself?” I muted the group chat immediately. This guy’s insane. Just because I didn’t cook for his mom, he comes ranting at me in the middle of the night? I’m not Mrs. Johnson’s daughter or her caretaker. Why should I be responsible for her? If I had known how this would play out, I would have refused her the first time she asked to mooch off my meals. Out of pity, I gave her a little extra when I cooked. She was a lonely, frail old lady who couldn’t even get a hot meal. I didn’t expect her to latch onto me like a leech. But my kindness wasn’t met with gratitude from either her or her son. Instead, they took it for granted, assuming it was my duty to help. The next morning, Mrs. Johnson started tagging me relentlessly in the Nextdoor Community Group again. I had the group muted and didn’t even see the messages. Besides, I’d already called the moving company and was ready to get out of there as soon as I sold my apartment. It was the smell of smoke that woke me up later. There was a crowd gathered at Mrs. Johnson’s door, and the firefighters looked annoyed. “Ma’am, even if you’re living alone, you’ve got to keep an eye on the stove.” “If the property manager hadn’t noticed the smoke, this whole building could’ve gone up.” “Seriously! We just had these walls repainted, and now they’ll need to be redone because of this mess. What a waste of money!” The property management staff complained. Mrs. Johnson didn’t dare make a peep, standing by the door, all meek and quiet. Michael had just come back from his night shift. After hearing what happened, he immediately spoke up for Mrs. Johnson. “Come on, folks. It wasn’t intentional. She’s an old lady living by herself. A little mistake is understandable. The important thing is no one got hurt.” Mrs. Johnson instantly put on a tearful face. “It’s okay, Michael. I don’t blame anyone. This is definitely my fault, but I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.” “I was starving all day yesterday and messaged Sarah this morning to help me make some porridge, but she didn’t respond. I was starting to worry something had happened to her. Now that I see her walking around, I feel so much better…” Her passive-aggressive tone made my blood boil. What annoyed me even more was that Michael, always the good guy, believed her without question and turned to scold me. “Sarah, what’s wrong with you? Why didn’t you reply to Mrs. Johnson’s messages? You’re perfectly fine, and she nearly burned the building down because of you.” I watched them play off each other, smiling coldly on the inside. But on the surface, I put on a guilty expression, ready to play along. “I’m really sorry. My ankle’s been hurting so much, and some jerk was yelling at me last night. I barely slept until this morning.” “If it weren’t for the smoke, I’d probably still be passed out right now.” Michael, always eager for gossip, leaned in, curious. “Who was yelling at you in the middle of the night? Is this person unhinged or something? Did you do something to set them off?” “Ugh!” I sighed heavily. “It was Mrs. Johnson’s son.” “He started yelling at me around 3 a.m. because I didn’t cook for his mom. He tagged me in the group chat just to curse me out.” As I said this, I glanced around at the other neighbors who had gathered to watch the drama unfold. I raised my voice a little to make sure they could hear. “Hey, neighbors, we’re all part of this community. Mrs. Johnson is an elderly woman living alone, so let’s help where we can.” “I’ve got a hurt ankle and can’t cook for her. Maybe someone else could make a meal and share it with Mrs. Johnson?” As soon as I finished speaking, the place fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. Everyone had seen Steven’s outburst in the group chat the day before. Nobody wanted to deal with that kind of trouble. After what seemed like an eternity, someone muttered under their breath. “When my mom lived alone, she still cooked for herself. It’s not really fair to expect the neighbors to do it.” “Yeah, sure, elderly people need help sometimes, but she’s got a son. It’s not our job to take care of her.” With that, the crowd dispersed. 0

Michael noticed Mrs. Johnson’s face turning sour, so he tried to console her, playing the good guy again. “Mrs. Johnson, don’t let those selfish people bother you.” I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, no compassion at all.” “Michael, I know you cook at home often, and you’re right across the hall from Mrs. Johnson. How about you make her some meals over the next few days?” Michael’s expression instantly changed to one of pure panic. “My cooking’s terrible. I doubt Mrs. Johnson would even like it.” “But your dad’s a retired chef from a fancy hotel. Surely cooking for an elderly neighbor wouldn’t be too difficult?” Michael’s dad lived with him, and the two were known for their nightly meals and occasional drinks, the aromas wafting through the halls for everyone to enjoy. Michael’s face turned pale. “That’s not gonna work! We only cook stuff that goes well with a drink. Mrs. Johnson’s tastes are different. And anyway, what if something goes wrong and she gets sick? Who’s gonna be responsible?” See? He knew all along how risky it was, but it only mattered when it wasn’t his responsibility. Smiling, I played along. “Exactly, Michael. You know how dangerous it is to feed someone else. So why didn’t you warn me when I was cooking for Mrs. Johnson a few days ago?” “Luckily, nothing happened. Michael, you wouldn’t have let me take the blame on purpose, would you?” Sweat began dripping down Michael’s back as he stammered out a response. “I—I just didn’t think of it until now. Anyway, I’ve been working nights, so I should probably get some sleep.” Michael made a hasty exit. Mrs. Johnson shot me a glance from the doorway, her face a twisted mix of frustration and defeat. “Never mind. It was just a moment of carelessness on my part. I’ll make sure to be more careful in the kitchen from now on.” “As for what happened yesterday, my son definitely overreacted. Please don’t take it to heart, Sarah.” I thought for a moment that Mrs. Johnson had finally changed her ways. But it turns out, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Later that afternoon, community volunteers came by to drop off supplies—bags of flour, rice, and oil—to help Mrs. Johnson out. But she looked at the items with pure disdain. “I don’t eat this kind of oil. It’s all GMO. Not healthy at all.” “And what am I supposed to do with flour? I’m an old woman! Do you expect me to knead dough on my own?” The community workers exchanged awkward glances. Then Mrs. Johnson’s gaze shifted to the takeout bag in my hand. “Sarah, that takeout smells delicious. Why don’t you give me a bite?” “Mrs. Johnson, this takeout is all processed junk food. It’s not good for you at your age. You should really stick to cooking at home.” I quickly grabbed my takeout and closed the door, devouring it in record time. In my past life, I’d ordered takeout for Mrs. Johnson plenty of times. She was picky, only wanting the priciest meals. One time, when a heavy rainstorm delayed the delivery, she refused to eat the food and called to complain. “Sarah, what is this garbage you ordered? It’s cold and inedible!” “Take it back home with you when you get off work. I’m not touching it!” Of course, she never paid me for any of the takeout. Looking back, I can’t believe how I was such a pushover—working like a dog, too broke to order food for myself, yet still paying out of pocket to get her the best meals. After finishing my takeout, I reclined on the balcony, enjoying the breeze in my lounge chair. This relaxed life was heaven. Suddenly, the video doorbell buzzed, alerting me to someone at the door. It was Mrs. Johnson again, I assumed, back to cause more trouble. But when I checked the live feed, I saw a man standing there instead. Judging by his posture, he looked a lot like Michael’s dad. And right now, the two of them were holding hands, exchanging glances so intense you could almost see sparks flying between them. Well, well, well. Looks like there’s more to this story than I thought. 0

Mrs. Johnson was practically draped over John Adams, working her charm like she had perfected the art. “John, if it weren’t for you, I don’t know what would’ve happened. I really thought I was at the end of my rope,” she said, her voice trembling for effect. “I was so hungry that I collapsed just outside my door.” John, ever the gentleman, responded quickly. “Why didn’t you say anything? I’m a retired chef! Making a meal for you would’ve been no trouble at all.” Mrs. Johnson kept her tone soft, still pulling at his emotions. “How could I impose? Besides, your son mentioned that the meals you make at home are all too heavy, more suited for a glass of whiskey. I’m not sure I’d be able to handle it…” John bristled at the mention of his son. “Michael’s talking nonsense! We eat hearty, delicious food every day. Tell you what, why don’t I whip up a nice chicken pot pie for you?” Mrs. Johnson hesitated for effect. “Won’t Michael mind?” That set John off. “Mind? What business is it of his? I make the rules in my house!” Mrs. Johnson smiled sweetly. “You’re too kind, John. Anyone lucky enough to be a part of your family is truly blessed.” With that, she had him wrapped around her finger. John was practically glowing from her praise, and off he went to cook her a meal. I couldn’t help but laugh. Mrs. Johnson hadn’t lost her touch. In no time at all, she had found her next target—a free personal chef. I could only imagine Michael’s face when he came home to find that the pot pie meant for his dinner had been devoured by Mrs. Johnson. Satisfied with the little drama, I ordered another round of takeout and spent the rest of the afternoon lounging comfortably. As I settled down to watch a movie, my phone buzzed—there was a flurry of activity in the Nextdoor Community Group. “Mrs. Johnson, couldn’t you have discussed whatever it was in person? Did my dad really need to go over to your place in the middle of the night?” “What’s going on that you have to drag him into this mess?” Michael’s post read. Mrs. Johnson wasted no time replying. “I just wanted to thank your father for making me dinner. Michael, I think you’re overreacting.” “Overreacting? My dad has never once cooked for me in years. Then suddenly he’s making you pot pie? I’ve never even had his pot pie!” Michael fumed in the chat. Frustrated, John finally chimed in. “That’s enough! Mrs. Johnson needs help, and I’m more than happy to provide it. You’re a grown man—do you still expect me to cook your meals? Seriously, Michael, stop being selfish!” The chat had clearly caught everyone’s attention. Michael, in a fit of rage, continued. “Stop being selfish? I bust my butt working all day and come home to relax with a drink and a decent meal, but now my food is going to someone else? And let’s not forget—this woman had the nerve to cozy up to you, and now you’re at her place all the time!” He wasn’t holding back. I hadn’t expected him to air their dirty laundry so openly. The other neighbors jumped in, unable to resist. “This does seem a bit much.” “Yeah, getting free meals is one thing, but turning the chef into your personal servant is another.” “Careful, Mrs. Johnson, if you steal our building’s prized cook, Michael’s going to starve.” The comments kept rolling in, getting more and more out of hand. Mrs. Johnson remained silent, no doubt furious but unable to retaliate. I let the chaos play out in the group while I turned back to my movie. But the next morning, I woke to a different kind of chaos. Standing at my front door was Steven Johnson. And in his hand was a knife.

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On the night Ava Sinclair won the International Best Director Award, I died an untimely death. She stood center stage, nestled in her new boyfriend’s arms, answering reporters’ questions. One reporter asked her how she viewed her first love. Ava smirked, “First love? That was just a fling. Who would take it seriously?” But Ava, I did take it seriously. I was diagnosed with terminal cancer on New Year’s Eve. To prevent my condition from worsening, I still checked into the hospital. The hospital was quiet and empty, most doctors had gone home for the holiday. The sporadic sound of fireworks outside sketched out a brilliant city night scene. In this city, I, stricken with cancer, had nowhere else to go. After spacing out for a while, I turned on the TV in the ward. Instead of watching the New Year’s Gala, I flipped through a few channels and stopped at a movie channel. Today was the announcement day for the Golden Palm Director Award. Staring at the familiar figure holding the trophy on TV, I smiled resignedly. Sure enough, this year’s Best Director award went to Ava Sinclair. She had changed a lot. The Ava now no longer had the fresh-faced look of a recent college graduate. She wore bright red lipstick, dressed in a flowing champagne-colored evening gown, exuding an overwhelming presence. Just standing there casually, she could attract everyone’s attention. She had gotten what she wanted. When we broke up, Ava had screamed at me with tear-filled eyes, saying she would definitely win the Best Director award. Today marked the third anniversary of our breakup. She did it. I coughed a few times, my breath unsteady. Suddenly, my gaze froze. Just now, I had only noticed Ava holding the trophy, overlooking the man beside her. He looked somewhat familiar. I frowned, trying hard to remember where I had seen him before, but couldn’t recall at all. …Who was that man? After the group photo session, Ava suddenly linked arms with the man beside her. It was time for the reporters to ask questions. Faced with reporters wielding cameras and microphones, Ava didn’t show any stage fright. She had grown. At this moment, a reporter suddenly spoke up, asking about Ava’s relationship with the man beside her. She glanced around at the crowd below, smiling as she slowly began to speak. “Him? He’s my current assistant, and also—” As if deliberately creating suspense, Ava paused for a few seconds before continuing. “My boyfriend.”

The reporters below erupted into a frenzy of excitement. Ava’s answer had practically caused an uproar throughout the venue. I could clearly feel a dull pain in my heart. The pain wasn’t intense, more like a hangnail—just a slight touch would trigger a fine, dense ache. I watched her nestle in her new boyfriend’s arms, smiling happily and sweetly. At this moment, a reporter held out a microphone. “Miss Sinclair, may I ask how you view your first boyfriend, Liam Carter?” The world seemed to fall silent for a moment. I am Liam Carter. Back then, quite a few people in the industry knew about my relationship with Ava. She was an emerging director showing early promise, while I was the assistant to an internationally renowned director. After falling in love with Ava, I gave up my million-dollar annual salary and moved into a cramped rental apartment with her, who hadn’t produced many works yet. In the directing circle, experience and age matter. Even though Ava had undeniable talent, her lack of experience meant she couldn’t earn much, especially since she preferred art films. At that time, we had almost no money at all. One night, Ava’s stomach condition flared up. Back then, smartphones weren’t as advanced, and we couldn’t call a cab. In a panic, I rode our old bicycle, carrying Ava all the way from the suburbs to the downtown hospital. She hugged my back and told me she would definitely marry me, spend her life with me, even if we had to live on scraps for the rest of our lives, she wouldn’t regret it. “Liam, I love you,” she whispered, her falling tears feeling like they could pierce through my back. At the hospital, the doctor said we were lucky to have arrived in time—Ava had acute gastroenteritis. I don’t remember how exhausting that day was, but I do remember Ava saying she wanted to marry me. After all the twists and turns, she still broke that promise. I snapped back to reality and continued watching the TV. Ava’s expression was blank. The reporter still held out the microphone, seemingly waiting persistently for an answer. Entertainment reporters love these tricky questions. After a while, Ava seemed to come back to her senses and let out a cold laugh. Her expression was somewhat playful, as if she had heard an amusing joke. “You mean first love? It was just a fling, who would take it seriously?” Whatever questions the reporters asked afterward didn’t matter anymore. At least at this moment, I had become the butt of this joke. I realized that Ava had just been playing around with me. After our breakup, we had no further contact. I originally thought she would never mention me again. I didn’t expect her to bring up my name in such a setting. In an instant, I felt a sense of being in another world. Suddenly, a brilliant firework exploded in the sky above the city. While watching the fireworks, I felt short of breath. At first, I thought I was just upset by the live broadcast, feeling a bit down. As time passed, I found it increasingly difficult to breathe. Realizing something was wrong, I quickly pressed the nurse call button. A flurry of footsteps sounded in the corridor. I struggled to reach out towards the ceiling, but seemed to grasp nothing, touching only emptiness. Before being wheeled away on the surgery cart, my gaze fell on the TV in the ward. It was still showing Ava. This TV was quite old and seemed to be experiencing some minor lag, making the live broadcast a bit choppy. But I think I’ll never forget how Ava looks now. She’s all dressed up, accepting everyone’s adoration. This is how the 22-year-old Ava most wanted to be. She said she wanted to become the brightest sun. “Patient’s emotions unstable, quick, put on the oxygen mask…” “Anesthesia… anesthesia…” Amidst the chaos, I passed out. The last words I heard were the cold “resuscitation failed.” My hand fell to the side of the operating table. In my dying moments, I thought, congratulations, Ava. I hope you’ve gotten what you wished for. On the night she gloriously won the Best Director award, I died in the operating room of a hospital. Actually, there was still something I hadn’t told Ava. But… This is something she probably will never know now. I thought I would die. Suddenly, I opened my eyes. I found that— I was actually floating in the air above the hospital corridor. What’s going on?

I looked at my hands in bewilderment, then glanced at the mirror at the end of the hallway, finally confirming a fact. Now, I should be temporarily not dead. But I had indeed separated from my body. I looked down and saw the on-duty nurses pushing me into the morgue. Although I was alone in the world, I was still a once-famous director’s assistant, and now that Ava had become famous, I had gained even more notoriety than before. Some entertainment reporters arrived at the news, got some information from the hospital, and left after taking some photos of the scene. All the while, I floated in the air, watching everything around me. This world was still bustling with activity, only my life had stopped a few hours ago. Suddenly, I had an almost crazy idea. …I wanted to see how Ava was doing now. As soon as this thought emerged, I felt a bit self-mocking. All my life, I could never stop worrying about Ava. At the awards ceremony, Ava had drunk quite a bit. She always skipped meals, and her stomach condition wasn’t light. If she didn’t eat properly, she might end up in the hospital. Over the years, she had been to the hospital countless times. At this moment, I realized I could still move. Which means— I should be able to move around normally. Amidst my surprise, I felt a bit excited. I knew roughly where the awards ceremony was held. Thinking this, I floated towards that direction. As I was no longer human, my speed wasn’t slow. When I arrived there, Ava hadn’t left the venue yet. The post-awards banquet must have ended, she was retching violently in the restroom, no longer the glamorous image she had on stage. Her whole person looked pale and light. Her face showed heavy fatigue. Ava’s assistant stood beside her, seemingly wanting to pat her back, but Ava dodged. I remembered, this man’s name was Jack Reynolds, two years younger than Ava, considered her junior. I heard he had always admired Ava, even confessed to her in college, but Ava didn’t accept him then. Now, Ava allowed him to stay by her side, what this meant, she had already said at the ceremony. Jack was already her boyfriend. My heart ached with a sour, bitter feeling. “Ava, drink some hangover soup, you’ve had too much to drink tonight.” Jack spoke with concern. But this word seemed to touch Ava’s sore spot. She frowned and looked at Jack, seemingly annoyed by his presumption. “Who wants to drink hangover soup?” “I’m sorry… Ava… I didn’t know you don’t drink this…” Jack’s apology sounded somewhat pitiful. I frowned, feeling their interaction didn’t quite resemble that of a couple, yet unsure how to define their relationship. Finally, Ava stared at the mirror for a long time, lost in thought. When it was almost dawn, she finally left the venue. With Jack’s support, Ava walked unsteadily, looking like she might fall over with a gust of wind. She wore a pair of very high heels. I knew Ava didn’t like high heels. When we were dating, she loved wearing flats and standing on tiptoe to kiss me. But now, she seemed to have gotten used to the glamour that high heels brought. People always change. Just like how Ava, once devoted to art films, had started making commercial films. It seemed everything had changed. The only one still lingering in place was me. I always thought Ava wouldn’t know about my passing. Unexpectedly, the next day, news of my death topped the trending topics.

At breakfast, Ava habitually scrolled through the latest news. Even after staying up so late, she still got up at seven o’clock sharp to go to the film set. Ava probably wanted to see news about herself. After clicking into the news, her gaze froze. Following her gaze, I first saw myself. “Liam Carter passes away.” These simple words summarized everything from last night. I couldn’t help but feel emotional. Ava seemed to disbelieve this news, reading it over and over again before finally clicking in. I could see her fingertips trembling. Ava muttered repeatedly, saying this news must just be a name coincidence. I noticed she was gripping the hem of her clothes. This was Ava’s habitual action when nervous. After clicking into the news, she looked at the editor’s name, then snorted lightly and closed her phone. Jack noticed Ava’s reaction and asked cautiously what had happened. Ava laughed coldly: “Nothing. Just saw some gossip news. I knew those entertainment tabloid reporters love to sensationalize, publishing such unrealistic stuff.” Hearing Ava say this, I understood. She didn’t believe I was dead. She thought this kind of news was just a clickbait title made up by those reporters for traffic. I smiled bitterly. But, Ava, I really am dead. Tortured by cancer for so long, I’ve finally found release. Although, the process of release might have been painful. I closed my eyes. Today, after finishing breakfast, Ava went to the film set. But her state was off. She called cut countless times, and when explaining the script to the actors, she couldn’t adjust her emotions at all. After half an hour, Ava put down the script, saying she was going to the rooftop for some air. The whole set fell silent. They hadn’t expected that Ava, who had always been sharp and insightful, would have such an irritable side. She came to the rooftop and opened her phone. I keenly noticed that Ava’s screen saver was still me. She typed something in her notes app. After floating over, I was stunned to find that this message was written to me. After I left, Ava probably didn’t know who to talk to about certain things, so she wrote them in her notes. I watched her type a line. “Liam Carter, just try dying and see what happens.” “I haven’t seen you fall from grace yet, how dare you die?” She typed with heavy strokes. I knew that Ava was angry now. She must still believe that I was alive. She still thought that those news reports were all fake, all fabricated. I closed my eyes and smiled bitterly. Ava would probably never know my secret. Actually, the reason I got cancer was for her. At that time, her film was just starting production, but our savings had been completely swindled by fraudsters. The money we had saved for so long was gone in a flash. Without sufficient funds, Ava’s film, which she had poured two whole years of effort into, would be ruined before it could even start. I told Ava I would find a way. But what way did I have? That day, I contacted a friend I hadn’t been in touch with for a long time, flew to an overseas lab, and voluntarily participated in their experiments. As long as I participated in one experiment, I could get $18,000. $18,000, that was a whole $18,000. I stayed abroad for three days, participating in a total of ten experiments. Each experiment would bring side effects to the body, but I gritted my teeth and endured them all. There was no special reason. That was $18,000. After each experiment, I vomited violently, feeling like I might die there. Everyone said I didn’t have to push myself so hard. But I didn’t listen to them. A few days later, I returned to the country with a bank card. Ava was still worrying about the startup funds, sitting in the living room with red-rimmed eyes, calling people she knew, asking if they could lend her money. At that time, no one thought much of Ava, and no one believed she would be able to repay the money. They cursed Ava for being shameless, then hung up the phone. I came to her side with that bank card. Such a good Ava, the Ava I loved so much. How could she cry? I told her I had raised the money. Ava widened her eyes in disbelief, then cheered and threw herself into my arms. I stroked her hair, also forcing out a somewhat ugly smile. After Ava’s film started production, my stomach suddenly began to feel uncomfortable. When I went to the hospital for a check-up, I found out I had indeed been diagnosed with cancer. Before participating in the experiments, I had signed a waiver. Since I had taken the money, if anything happened, I had to take responsibility myself. I understood very clearly. It was also on that day that I bought an insurance policy. I wrote Ava’s name as the beneficiary. Without realizing it, Ava had already typed a long paragraph. She put away her phone and turned to leave the rooftop. In the following shooting, Ava obviously got into the state. She became that decisive and experienced Director Sinclair again. Everyone on set regained their composure and continued with their respective duties. I could notice that Jack’s gaze towards Ava was still unusual. Suddenly, I remembered that Jack and Ava’s rooms were separate. Compared to a boyfriend, Jack was more like an ordinary life assistant. Moreover, Ava wouldn’t let Jack touch her much. The two of them… indeed didn’t look like a couple. Ava worked until late at night before finishing work. By the time she got home, a phone call came through on her phone. Seeing the flashing “Insurance Company” on her phone screen, my eyelid twitched. ——I think I know what this call is about. Sure enough, after Ava answered the phone, I heard a somewhat familiar voice.

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Scarlett Beaumont tossed me a card and told me to get lost. She said, “Here’s half a million. It’s enough to buy out your years of dedication.” I had accompanied Scarlett from a workplace novice to a business elite, spending a full five years by her side. But the one she liked, from beginning to end, was my brother. After leaving the company, I crossed the road in a daze and was killed by an out-of-control truck. When I woke up again, I had returned to my college days. Scarlett was throwing a stack of notes in front of me. She commanded, “Jasper Callahan, copy these for me.” I threw the notes back at her. “Are your hands broken? Can’t you copy them yourself?” When I said this, Scarlett was stunned. Looking at the woman before me, my only thought was to slap her hard. It was she who had tricked me into giving up the opportunity to continue my studies, making me her stepping stone. Right after graduating from college, I accompanied Scarlett in starting a business. Five years later, she transformed into an industry upstart, while I had developed a host of health problems. I thought I could finally reap the rewards of my hard work, but what awaited me was Scarlett’s infidelity and betrayal. Perhaps it was my unwillingness to accept this fate before I died that made the heavens give me a chance to start over. I didn’t want to face Scarlett’s nauseating face again. I quickly packed up my books and stationery, intending to leave the classroom. Even at this moment, I still couldn’t believe I had really been reborn. I shouldered my backpack and was about to leave. But Scarlett sneered behind me. “Trying a new trick this time? If you don’t copy them, plenty of guys are lining up to do it for me.” I ignored her. After taking a couple of steps, I heard Scarlett’s best friend tease: “Scarlett, let’s make a bet. See how long he can hold out.” Another friend immediately chimed in: “I bet one night.” “One night? An hour would be pushing it.” As they were chattering away, I couldn’t help but turn back and mock: “Scarlett, with your family background, guys would be running away from you. Don’t think of yourself as such a catch!” Scarlett was good-looking and smart, and her family was moderately well-off. But she had a three-year-old brother, which was a fatal flaw. After all, few men could tolerate helping their wife support her brother after marriage. Back then, I was too infatuated to see these facts clearly. My words hit Scarlett’s sore spot. She immediately changed her expression. “Jasper Callahan! What do you mean? Am I not stating facts? Or are you and your little friends only allowed to criticize others behind their backs?” I turned my fire on her friends: “And you lot, got nothing better to do? Betting on others, think you’re gambling gods or something? With all this free time, why don’t you read a few more books!” Scarlett and her friends couldn’t keep face anymore, but they didn’t want to argue with me in public, so they just said sarcastically: “Did you take the wrong medicine? Such a big reaction.” “Scarlett, it’s all your fault, making the poor guy bitter from unrequited love…” I couldn’t be bothered to listen to them ramble on, so I turned and left. In my past life, my eyes and heart were full of Scarlett, and by extension, I even had a fondness for her group of friends. I carried their bags when they went shopping. I saved seats for them when they ate out. After graduation, when her friends were drunk or couldn’t drive, I always volunteered to be their driver. They called me “brother” to my face, but behind my back, they mocked me as a lapdog. Most hatefully, they even banded together to cover up Scarlett’s affair. In their eyes, I was just a free servant to be called upon at will! Bah! Even I have to despise myself for being so spineless and love-struck! I hurried back to the dorm, washed up, and changed clothes. I stared at myself in the mirror. Messy hair, skinny, sallow complexion, with dark circles under my eyes. I had always been a bookworm with no sense of style since I was young. Boys my age all knew how to exercise, keep fit, and dress well. But I only buried myself in studying, paying no attention to my appearance. I hadn’t planned on finding a girlfriend during school anyway. Liking Scarlett was just a twist of fate. One winter, I went to the communal water station to get hot water and accidentally scalded my hand. When Scarlett found out, she kindly stuffed some burn ointment in my drawer. From childhood to adulthood, apart from my parents, almost no one had cared for me so selflessly. So, I fell for her. Ignoring others’ gazes, I actively showed my affection for Scarlett. She probably accepted my devotion with the mindset of “why not, if it’s free.” And I, for one act of kindness, staked my youth, and ultimately my life, ending up losing everything. How ridiculous! Given another chance, I absolutely won’t walk down the same path as in my past life!

To change my fate, I’ll start by changing my image. I made a decisive move and ordered a batch of new clothes and shoes online. Then I signed up for a gym membership and made an exercise plan for myself. My parents both worked, and as an only child, I never lacked pocket money. However, my family always valued frugality as a virtue. My parents taught me from a young age to look at a person’s inner beauty. Now I’ve realized that using money to improve oneself is nothing to be ashamed of! The timing of my return wasn’t great, happening right after I had refused my master’s degree offer. I quickly ate and rushed to the study hall. After searching for a while, all the seats were occupied by students with water bottles and books. Disappointed, I walked towards the exit, almost bumping into a girl coming from the opposite direction. I apologized and was about to move around her. But she called out to me: “Jasper Callahan.” I recognized the voice and turned back in surprise, meeting a face as fair as jade. It was Zoe Fitzgerald, my childhood friend. Zoe was my neighbor and classmate in both elementary and middle school. Back then, we were both admitted to the same university, but Zoe was even more impressive, gaining admission to a combined master’s and doctoral program. She studied software engineering, while I studied biotechnology. Since she moved, we had fewer chances to meet. Encountering an old friend, I felt a mix of emotions. When Zoe learned that I had refused the master’s offer, she had called to try and persuade me. But I was too love-struck to listen to her advice, and even accused her of meddling. Zoe tried her best to convince me but couldn’t, and got so angry she stopped talking to me altogether. Later, she went abroad for her Ph.D., and we completely lost touch. Looking back, Zoe was really far-sighted. She had warned me back then: Giving up on improving yourself for a woman, you’ll regret it one day! Who knew it would come true. Now, Zoe frowned and said: “Jasper, the professor said you’re not continuing your studies? Why would you give up such a good opportunity?” I snapped back to reality from my memories and hurriedly explained: “Yes, I just had a moment of confusion, feeling I didn’t deserve this recommendation. Now I hope I can apply and get in with my own abilities!” I was just making this up. But it was the only reasonable explanation I could think of. Zoe was stunned for a moment, then said seriously: “You’re always so stubborn. There are only a few recommendation spots, and this is also a recognition of your abilities.” I nodded vigorously. “You’re right, so I’m a bit regretful now. But don’t worry, as long as I work hard, I’ll definitely be able to apply and get in on my own!” I spoke sincerely, and Zoe nodded: “That’s more like it. This is the Jasper I know.” She looked at the seats in the study hall and asked: “Couldn’t find a seat?” I said helplessly: “Yeah, came too late.” Zoe took out her phone and said: “My classmate saved a seat. I’ll tell her to go somewhere else, and the seat will be yours.” “How could I… Well, I’ll treat her to a meal next time.” I accepted after a polite refusal. After finding a seat, I sat down with Zoe to study. I couldn’t help but recall the scenes of us participating in math competitions together in high school. Back then, I was even thinner and darker than now. Zoe, on the other hand, had always been a beauty in the making. Since middle school, boys had been giving her love letters, but she always maintained an attitude of keeping everyone at arm’s length. It seemed that apart from studying, nothing could pique her interest. She was too upright; I never had any inappropriate thoughts about her. We studied until just before the dorm closed, then left the study hall. Zoe asked: “Are you coming tomorrow? Want me to save you a seat?” “Sure, if it’s convenient for you.” I didn’t forget to express my gratitude: “Thanks to your classmate for giving up her seat. How about I treat you guys to a meal at the Lakeside Restaurant tomorrow?” The Lakeside Restaurant was considered high-end consumption on campus, usually only frequented by couples. Zoe waved her hand: “No need, we’re not picky about food. If you get to the cafeteria early tomorrow, just save us a table. We have lab work tomorrow, so we’ll be late getting out of class.” “No problem, leave it to me!” I promised. The next day, I rushed to the cafeteria right after class and saved a table by the window for Zoe. I put my books and water bottle on the table, planning to go get food after Zoe and her classmate arrived. I was lowering my head to send Zoe a message. Scarlett and her group of friends walked towards me. One of her friends, Katie Hawthorne, teased: “See? I told you Jasper still cares about our Scarlett.”

I looked up in surprise. Scarlett let out a contemptuous snort and sat down next to me. Katie reached out to a girl named Isla Sinclair: “One night, I won. Pay up.” Isla grumbled as she took out money: “You’re still the best.” I immediately realized what was happening. Did they think I had found this seat for them? I was both embarrassed and angry. But I couldn’t blame them. For the past two years, I often did this kind of thankless task. It was understandable that they would misunderstand. I had to explain while suppressing my anger: “I’m sorry, but I saved this seat for a friend. There are many empty seats, could you please move to another table?” Katie and the others ignored my words and sat down. Isla fanned herself and said: “This spot is nice, quite cool.” Katie teased: “Jasper, stop being stubborn. We all understand your feelings for Scarlett.” Isla chimed in: “Scarlett couldn’t sleep well last night, thinking you really despised her.” Scarlett said angrily: “Shut up!” I saw them push my books and water bottle aside, and I said urgently: “The seat really isn’t for you! My friend will be here soon! Please leave!” Scarlett said nonchalantly: “If it’s not for us, who else could it be for?” She commanded: “Get me a salad, and for the other dishes, you know what I like.” She finished speaking and tossed her meal card in front of me. Seeing that card, I couldn’t help but recall the scene from my past life when she threw a bank card at me to break up. The face of the cheating ex from my past life overlapped with Scarlett’s current face. I could no longer suppress the anger in my heart. I grabbed the books and slammed them on the table, shouting: “I’ve already said it’s not for you! Can’t you understand human language?” The commotion quickly drew sidelong glances from others. Katie and Isla sat awkwardly without saying a word. Scarlett lost face because of me and got angry too. She frowned and reprimanded: “Jasper Callahan, that’s enough! A grown man holding such a grudge! I’ve already made concessions, don’t go too far!” I was about to speak when Zoe’s voice came from behind: “Jasper? What’s going on?” I turned around quickly. Zoe was walking towards us with two female classmates. Both groups curiously sized each other up. I was stuck in the middle, feeling a bit at a loss. Seeing Zoe, Scarlett’s face changed instantly. She asked me through gritted teeth: “Jasper Callahan, you’d better explain this.” Her tone sounded like I had done something to betray her. It was simply ridiculous! Before I could open my mouth, Zoe introduced herself gracefully: “Software Engineering, Class of ’18, Zoe Fitzgerald. Nice to meet you.” Katie and Isla gasped. Katie: “Zoe Fitzgerald? The academic star whose paper was published in an international journal?” Isla: “Isn’t she the one who secured a 5 million sponsorship for her research project?” Zoe’s reputation preceded her. The originally arrogant Scarlett suddenly seemed to shrink in her presence. Scarlett continued to glare at me: “You two know each other?” “She’s my neighbor,” I said concisely. Then I turned to Zoe and her classmates with an apologetic look: “I’m sorry, the seats have been taken by others. How about I treat you to the Lakeside Restaurant instead?” Zoe’s classmate said generously: “It’s fine, we can eat anywhere.” “No need to splurge, we’re good as long as we have a place to sit.” I didn’t want to continue eating here to avoid the unpleasant atmosphere with Scarlett and her friends. I started packing up the things on the table, and Zoe naturally helped me stack the books and put them in my bag. Scarlett kept glaring at us fiercely, as if trying to bore holes in me with her eyes. I couldn’t be bothered to even give her a glance. I left with Zoe and her group. At the restaurant, I politely let them order and insisted on treating them. Zoe said: “Don’t be so formal, we can split the bill.” She then introduced me to her two friends, who were her lab mates. During the meal, Zoe’s two classmates were discussing experimental data. Zoe casually asked me: “That girl just now, is she your girlfriend?”

I was taken aback. In all the years I’ve known Zoe, she had never shown interest in my love life. Perhaps I was silent for too long, as she said uncomfortably: “If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to…” I hurried to explain: “No, no, she’s not my girlfriend. She just helped me before, and I was repaying her kindness.” Scarlett’s small favor to me had been more than repaid by my running errands for her these two years. I no longer owed her anything! Zoe heard this and made a noncommittal “Oh.” That page was turned. Ever since the incident in the cafeteria, Scarlett and I were completely done. Although I was sick of her, she hadn’t done any substantial harm to me in this life yet. I had no intention of seeking revenge on her. When faced with people and things you dislike, it’s best to stay away. There’s no need to get entangled. That day, as usual, I finished working out and returned to the dorm. As soon as I entered, I was stopped by my roommate, Liam Thorne. Liam was the one who had come between Scarlett and me in my past life. Liam and I weren’t in the same class. After graduation, out of consideration that he was my roommate, I kindly introduced him to Scarlett’s company and even became good friends with him. As a result, he repaid my kindness with betrayal, backstabbing me along with Scarlett. During our school days, he rarely came back to the dorm as he lived off-campus with his girlfriend. Liam held a USB drive, smiling as he said: “Jasper, we need to make a PowerPoint for our group assignment. You’re the best at this kind of technical work, can you help me?” Liam had always liked to boss people around, relying on his bit of money. I smiled insincerely and said: “Sorry, I have my own work from last night that I haven’t finished. I can’t help you.” He didn’t expect me to refuse and was stunned for a second before reacting. He tried to persuade me: “Come on, help me out… It’s due tomorrow, and I don’t want to pull an all-nighter. You’re so skilled, you could finish it in no time. I’ll treat you to bubble tea if you do it, okay?” This kind of tactic might work on girls, but I wasn’t falling for it! Especially after seeing his true colors in my past life, I despised him even more. I wiped the smile off my face and said sternly: “Liam, forget about the bubble tea. Making a PowerPoint isn’t that hard, you’ll get the hang of it if you try. It’s better to rely on yourself than others. You can’t always depend on people to help you, can you?” Liam seemed unable to take a hint and persisted: “It’s just a small favor. You’ve helped me before, haven’t you?” I was considering whether to be more direct when our roommate Finn Donovan kindly tried to defuse the situation: “Liam, Jasper’s been arguing with Scarlett lately. He’s not in a good mood. Cut him some slack, will you?” Liam looked shocked: “What? You broke up with Scarlett? I thought you really liked her?” I coldly replied: “We were never dating. How could we break up?” With that, I headed straight to the bathroom with my change of clothes. Liam was still gossiping with Finn. Liam: “Who dumped who?” Finn: “Not sure, but I think Jasper dumped Scarlett first…” Liam: “No way? I never would have guessed…” Liam stopped pestering me, and I couldn’t be bothered to explain. I just took my clothes and went into the bathroom. The courses in senior year weren’t intense. Students started looking for internships, spending less and less time on campus. With over a month left until the master’s interview, I spent more and more time in the study hall. Of course, no matter how busy I was with studying, I didn’t neglect my workouts. I had a good foundation, and I was tall enough. After building some muscle, my whole demeanor changed. With proper grooming, my attractiveness skyrocketed. As my outward appearance improved, people’s attitudes towards me changed noticeably. Walking around campus, I’d occasionally have girls come up to ask for my contact information. Looks really are important. One day, after finishing my studies, it was already 9:30 PM. It was late autumn, and the night wind was chilly. After walking Zoe back to her dorm, I walked alone along the campus path. I pulled my jacket tighter, when suddenly someone darted out from the nearby woods. I was startled, but when I looked closely, it was none other than Scarlett, whom I hadn’t seen in days.

Scarlett was wearing a pleated skirt, exposing her long, snow-white legs. It seemed she had purposely laid in wait to ambush me here. I didn’t want to have any interaction with her and tried to walk around her. Scarlett grabbed my sleeve and said coquettishly: “Don’t go. I have something to ask you.” I put on a long face and said coldly: “Speak.” Scarlett huffed. “Why have you changed so much? Why are you so impatient with me?” I said impatiently: “Get to the point.” Scarlett continued: “But you’re quite interesting like this now, much more fun than your previous wooden self. You’ve become better looking too. How did you suddenly wise up?” As she spoke, she clung to my arm and shook it, acting coy. My feelings of disgust were reaching their boiling point. I pulled my hand away and said through gritted teeth: “If you have nothing important to say, I’m leaving.” Scarlett blocked my path again. She said haughtily: “Alright, I’ve been thinking these past few days. Actually, there’s nothing wrong with you. I was too cold to you before. I shouldn’t have led you on like that…” Scarlett opened her arms and announced loudly: “Jasper Callahan, let’s officially date! From now on, you’re Scarlett Beaumont’s boyfriend! How about that? Happy now?” “…” At this moment, my silence was deafening. Be her boyfriend? Happy now? No, who gave Scarlett this confidence? I looked at her like she was an idiot, and after great effort, I managed to squeeze out a sentence:

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I woke up in the middle of the night, thirsty. I got up to get some water from the kitchen. As I passed by the guest room, I heard some muffled noises coming from inside. I thought maybe Kelly Morgan, the nanny my mother-in-law, Mrs. Evelyn Adams, had brought in, wasn’t feeling well. I was about to knock on the door. Just as my fingers touched the doorknob, I heard my husband, Brian Adams’ voice, mixed with Kelly’s soft moaning. Her breathy sounds, almost whimpering, were unmistakable. As an adult, I knew exactly what was happening in there. The sounds were enough to make my skin crawl. My mind went blank for a moment, like a radio cutting out. I couldn’t decide if I was more furious or in complete shock. My legs gave out, and I slumped down to the floor, too weak to stand. Kelly was someone Mrs. Adams brought in from her hometown to be my nanny after I had just given birth to our son, Baby Ryan. I’d wanted to stay at the Mommy & Me Clinic for postpartum care, but when my mother-in-law saw the price tag, she insisted she could find someone better and cheaper who would let me recover comfortably at home. I wanted to refuse, but the eager look on Mrs. Adams’ face made me swallow back my protest. The day after I was discharged from the hospital, Mrs. Adams showed up with Kelly. Kelly had walked into our house wearing dark, faded slacks and a short-sleeved shirt that had clearly been washed one too many times. Her skin looked sallow, and her hair was tied back in a limp ponytail. When she saw me, she gave an awkward smile, nervously rubbing her hands on her pants and hiding behind Mrs. Adams, while her eyes darted all over the house. She was so young—was she even capable of being a nanny? I felt a wave of doubt rise in my chest. I pulled Mrs. Adams aside and whispered, “Isn’t this nanny a little too young?” Mrs. Adams laughed and patted my hand. “Oh, Amanda, don’t let her age fool you. Kelly’s great with kids.” Then she called Kelly over. Kelly quickly nodded and stepped forward. “Ma’am, I’ve got a big family—two younger brothers and a sister. I basically raised them all,” she said with a nervous laugh, puffing out her chest a bit. “I’m strong and tough. You can trust me with your baby.” I studied her face, trying to read if there was anything off. All I saw was sincerity. I hesitated for a moment, but Mrs. Adams made the decision for me. “Alright, Amanda, let’s have Kelly stay. If you’re not satisfied, we can always ask her to leave, okay?” Given the situation, I couldn’t very well tell her to go. So, Kelly stayed. I have to admit, during her first week, Kelly did a decent job. She took care of everything around the house with impressive efficiency. At first, I didn’t like her cooking. Her meals were far too greasy for my taste. But when she noticed I wasn’t eating much, Kelly quickly taught herself a few lighter dishes. And when it came to looking after Baby Ryan, she was always extra careful. I had no complaints when I saw her gently rocking my baby in her arms. I even mentioned to Brian, my husband, that maybe we should give Kelly a raise. Brian just laughed and said, “No need, not yet.” 2 But I had no idea that my trust was being traded for Kelly’s ambition. I must have been blind to keep a wolf like her in my home. Kelly’s moans grew louder in the guest room. Startled, I forced myself up, bracing against the doorframe. Then I heard Brian let out a final satisfied groan. They were both panting inside. Through the crack in the door, I could see Brian holding Kelly, the two of them lying naked together in bed. Kelly’s fingers were tracing circles on Brian’s chest. “Brian, when are you going to divorce Amanda? I can’t wait much longer,” she purred. Brian took her hand, kissed her fingers gently, and said, “Be patient, babe. The fun’s just getting started. Once I’ve got that old hag’s money, I’ll marry you, okay?” I froze. My scalp went numb. Kelly kept nagging him, clearly growing impatient. Turns out, Kelly and Brian had been engaged back in his hometown. Everyone there knew about their relationship. Everyone except for me—the fool they had tricked. I remembered the first time I went back to Brian’s hometown to meet his parents. The whole town had gathered at the entrance to greet us. When they saw me, there were these strange, sly smiles on their faces, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I clung to Brian’s hand and nervously asked, “Why are people looking at me like that?” I remembered how nonchalantly he squeezed my hand and replied, “They’re just jealous that I married someone from the city.” Brian had strutted ahead, showing me off to the entire town. I overheard people whispering behind me, “That Brian sure knows how to play the game. Can’t believe he landed a city girl.” “Yeah, but it’s all because of his looks. What else does he have going for him?” “And what about his girl back home?” “Guess he’ll have one wife and one mistress.” I was walking too fast to catch the full conversation, but the bits and pieces I heard didn’t make sense to me at the time. Later on, Brian and I got married. Even though my parents weren’t thrilled about Brian, they agreed to the marriage for my sake. After we tied the knot, my parents bought us a nearly 2,000-square-foot house in a great school district and even gave us the funds to start our own business. With my help, we started a small company. We hit the market at the perfect time, and within a few years, the business was booming. Brian became a self-made millionaire. But now, all my hard work, all my dedication, had been repaid with betrayal. I was shaking all over, ready to burst into the room and tear those two apart. But my sense of reason kicked in. Now was not the time to confront them. Inside, Kelly asked, “Brian, is it because she gave birth to a son that you don’t want to divorce her?” My heart clenched. My son was my line in the sand. Brian chuckled in that strange way that echoed in the quiet of the room. “He’s my son too, isn’t he? Won’t he be yours when you’re raising him?” Kelly’s voice chimed in, “Yeah, and when he’s older, he’ll call me ‘Mom.’” The two of them laughed together. 3 I was completely numb. They were scheming to take not just my money, but my son, too. Well, let’s see how things play out. I won’t let them get away with anything. Then Kelly started up again, purring to Brian, “Honey, I want you again.” “You little minx. You’re going to wear me out,” Brian laughed. Within moments, their moans filled the room again, even louder than before, completely ignoring my presence in the house. I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms, but I couldn’t feel the pain. After standing there for what felt like forever, I stumbled back into our bedroom. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. I kept thinking about how Brian and I had started the business. Back then, it was just the two of us. I handled everything at the company—administration, financial reports, managing clients. And at home, I cleaned, did laundry, cooked. I was spinning like a top, working non-stop. After three years of my relentless efforts, the business finally took off. Brian had officially climbed out of that tiny town he came from. Now, every time he went back, he was greeted with fanfare. The town even put up banners when he returned, calling him their “great hope.” Mrs. Adams would walk around the town with her head held high, looking down on everyone. I remembered once when she came to visit us. She had pulled Brian aside in the kitchen and whispered, “Son, now that you’re a big-shot businessman, it’s time for you to have a son to carry on the family name, right?” I had seen Brian nod in agreement. “Yeah, I know.” Mrs. Adams had clapped her hands in delight and whispered, “Then you better hurry up. I want to be holding my grandson by next Christmas.” Brian had proudly puffed out his chest. “Don’t worry, Ma. I’m in great shape.” Hearing them talk, I had quietly retreated to our bedroom. Truthfully, I had always wanted a baby, too, but the company needed me, so I kept putting it off. When Brian finally brought it up, I was thrilled. Not long after, I found out I was pregnant. Brian insisted I stay home and focus on the pregnancy. His reasoning was that the business was running smoothly now, and I deserved to relax. When I hesitated, Brian had wrapped his arm around me and softly said, “Babe, just stay home and take care of yourself. Make sure our baby boy is nice and healthy.” I laughed and teased him, “How do you know it’s a boy? What if it’s a girl?” Brian’s face darkened. He furrowed his brows in annoyance. “The Adams family has always had sons, generation after generation. We need a boy to carry on the name.” Seeing the displeasure on my face, he quickly backtracked and added, “But of course, a girl would be fine too. As long as you’re the one giving birth to the baby.” After I got pregnant, Brian became even busier. He was often gone for entire nights, always tied up with meetings or client dinners. I was too naive. I actually believed he was working hard for the sake of our family. Little did I know, I’d been living a lie. A complete joke. Every time I thought about how Brian had been sneaking around with Kelly behind my back, I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn’t let this go. 4 Determined to get proof of their affair, I bought a few wireless cameras online. While Kelly was out grocery shopping, I installed the cameras in the guest room, living room, and kitchen. As expected, that very night, Brian and Kelly were at it again.

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On the day of my engagement, my fiancé’s first love attempted suicide. He told me it was a life-or-death situation and asked me to “be understanding.” Sure, I can be understanding. The guests were already here, and they couldn’t have come for nothing. So, I found a new groom on the spot. Forget the engagement, let’s go straight to the wedding. I was sitting in the Bridal Suite, dressed in my elegant wedding gown, waiting for the engagement ceremony to start. But instead of someone coming to escort me to the ballroom, my best friend walked in, her face pale as a ghost. “What happened?” My brow twitched slightly as a bad feeling crept over me. She stared at me for a long moment, grinding her teeth before she finally spoke. “I told you to break up with Jack Linfield, but you didn’t listen. Now, on your engagement day, his first love is about to whisk him away!” I was silent for a full five seconds. “Samantha Shaw?” “Who else?” My best friend let out a cold laugh and glanced at the doorway just as my fiancé, Jack, walked in. “Honestly, I don’t know where you found this one. Who abandons their fiancée at the engagement party because his ex cried a little on the phone?” Jack, clearly catching the dig, didn’t look happy. “Samantha…she tried to slit her wrists. It’s bad. I need to go check on her.” “Check on her? Why? You’re not her family, and you’re definitely not her boyfriend. Why is it your business?” My best friend smirked, stepping forward and taking my hand. “He’s still hung up on her. Imagine being about to get engaged but worrying more about your ex. Bravo, Jack. That’s something to admire.” Jack’s expression darkened, ignoring her, and turned to me instead. “Nina, I know today’s our engagement party. I didn’t want this to happen, but it’s a matter of life and death. I hope you can be understanding.” I raised an eyebrow, looking at the man I’d been dating for six months, and then suddenly, I laughed. “Sure, I understand. Go ahead.” “Nina Woodson!” My best friend stared at me in disbelief. “You’re letting your fiancé leave his own engagement party to go check on another woman? Nina, do you want to be the laughingstock for the rest of your life?!” I stood up, wrapped my arm around her shoulders, and gently pinched her cheek, forcing her to close her mouth. “Go on, Jack. Hurry, before her wounds start healing on their own.” I said it so sweetly. Jack hesitated, sensing something was off, but didn’t think too much about it. He turned and practically ran out of the room. My best friend broke free of my grip, eyes wide as she prepared to scream at me again, but I smiled brightly and spoke first. “The engagement party? Oh, it’s definitely still happening.” “With who? A ghost? Your groom just left.” I wagged my finger with a knowing smile. “Who said the engagement party has to be with Jack?” My friend looked baffled as I slipped on my heels and strolled toward the ballroom. Since my fiancé wasn’t cooperating, I didn’t mind swapping him out for a new groom.

I peeked out of the doorway, scanning the ballroom. The guests were almost all seated, and it was nearly time for the ceremony. I looked from left to right, front to back—ugh, not a single man worth considering. Of course, my most handsome guy friend wasn’t picking up his phone. He’s killing me here. I couldn’t embarrass myself. That was my bottom line. Just when I was starting to lose hope, I spotted my dad walking toward the front of the room, dragging someone along. “Ethan, I really appreciate you coming all the way here straight from the airport…” Dad was beaming as he introduced the man beside him, a tall, handsome guy with an air of mystery. His name was Ethan Cooper. Dressed in a sharp suit, he looked as flawless as ever, his features both striking and refined. And just like that, the answer to my dilemma appeared. He was perfect—someone I knew well, someone who would make an impression. Without a second thought, I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I found his number. I hesitated for a moment before calling. It had been a long time since I last used it, back when I was studying abroad. Ethan had been a chess buddy of my dad’s. They had once competed in a national amateur tournament together, with Ethan emerging victorious. At the time, Ethan was only 19, while my dad was 43. Ever since, they’d maintained a close friendship, despite the age difference. Even though Ethan is only eight years older than me, my dad insisted I call him “Uncle Ethan.” Now, at 34, Ethan Cooper was wealthy, charming, good-looking, and successful. The only thing missing in his life was a good wife. And hey, what a coincidence… The phone rang a couple of times before Ethan picked up, his voice calm and steady. “Hello?” “Uncle Ethan, could you come to the Bridal Suite? I need a favor.” “Something urgent?” He got it right away. That’s why they call him “uncle,” I guess. “Yeah, it’s pretty urgent.” “Okay, I’ll be right there.” I watched as Ethan stood up without even telling my dad where he was going. He asked a server for directions and started walking my way. Two knocks later, I opened the door and pulled him inside before anyone else could see. My best friend had already been shooed out so I could save face in case Ethan said no. “Uncle Ethan, I need your help.” “Go ahead.” I pointed to Jack’s backup suit, giving him the best pleading look I could muster. “If you’re not in a rush, could you…just marry me today?” He raised an eyebrow, immediately catching on. “Did your fiancé bail, or are you the one with regrets?” Eight years of knowing him meant he could read the situation like a book. Seeing him there reminded me of when I was a mischievous kid. I’d tried to prank him once with some friends, but it ended with him outsmarting all of us. Back then, when my friends and I had a falling out, he’d said something that stuck with me. “Trust is the foundation of any partnership. If suspicion outweighs trust, it’s no surprise things fall apart.” So, I told him everything—about Jack and Samantha. He listened intently. “So, he ran, and now you regret it too?” I nodded firmly. Absolutely no doubt about it. Jack could go be with whoever he wanted. I, Nina Woodson, wasn’t about to look back. “I’d rather stay single my entire life than marry someone like Jack.” Ethan gently covered my mouth with his hand, a mysterious smile on his face. “Alright, I’ll do it.” He glanced at Jack’s suit and shook his head. “This fabric is terrible, the colors are all wrong, and the sleeves are too short. I can’t wear this.” I looked him over again and realized Ethan was taller than Jack. Well, thank you, Samantha. Not only did I get a new groom, but he’s taller, too. “TOM!” Ethan called, his assistant immediately responding. “Grab the backup suit from my car. And tell them I’ll wait in the Groom’s Suite, not the main ballroom.” After everything was arranged, Ethan gave me a light pat on the shoulder. “See you soon, my fiancée.”

You really have to hand it to a good assistant. Not only did he adjust to the fact his boss was suddenly getting married, but he even agreed to officiate the ceremony. With our new “officiant” in place, the engagement party proceeded smoothly. Thanks to my best friend giving my parents the heads-up, they handled the switch calmly. As for Jack’s parents, they’d already left the venue by then. I later found out that Jack had started planning for their exit the moment he took Samantha’s call. Knowing he was in the wrong, he didn’t want his parents to face the embarrassment of apologizing on his behalf, so he went for the coward’s way out. People really show their true colors when they’re running away. After the ceremony wrapped up, my dad couldn’t wait to ask Ethan what was going on. “Ethan, what’s the deal with today?” He was still calling Ethan “old buddy,” but my mom was quicker on the uptake. “Sweetie, you can’t call him that anymore—it’s your son-in-law now!” She whispered, pinching my dad’s waist. “I mean…this is all so sudden…” Seeing how confused my dad looked, Ethan put his arm around my shoulder and smoothly spun a completely made-up story about how we had “always loved each other but were too afraid to admit it—until today.” Honestly, even I almost believed him. As the top-ranked “Outstanding Young Professional” in the city, handling an engagement party was a walk in the park for Ethan. Before long, he had the room eating out of his hand. A couple of puzzled guests were quickly drowned in my dad’s wine. The party was a success. Back in the dressing room, my best friend finally let out a deep breath. “Jack is such a jerk, but at least he did one decent thing in his life—today.” As she helped me out of my wedding gown, she couldn’t resist throwing in a few more snarky comments. “You dropped a tiny speck of dust and traded it for a whole truckload of gold. Honestly, you’ve won the jackpot!” I chuckled. “You should have joined a comedy show. They’re missing out on some serious talent.”

As I stepped out of the Bridal Suite, I saw Ethan waiting for me by the door. He had already changed back into his sharp suit, still looking annoyingly handsome. “Ahem, I’ll go return the wedding dress for you,” my best friend teased, putting extra emphasis on “your fiancé,” before laughing and walking away. Honestly, I didn’t plan to involve Ethan at first. If only my best guy friend had answered his phone, none of this would have happened. But here we were. Thankfully, this was just an engagement party, not the actual wedding. Give it some time, and people would forget about it. Later, I could come up with a graceful way out, maybe chalk it up to “bad timing.” But first, I had to talk to Ethan. We couldn’t just wing it like we did today. Just as I was about to start a conversation, my phone rang. The number was unfamiliar, but I answered without much thought. On the other end, I heard Jack’s voice, incredulous and furious. “Nina Woodson! Do you think marriage is a game?” “I told you I was going to help someone. I asked you to be reasonable… and you just replaced me with someone else?!” “You even blocked my whole family’s numbers? Wow, you’ve really outdone yourself…” He was practically shouting, and I could imagine the spit flying as he ranted through the phone. I hadn’t even had the chance to confront him, and now he was playing the victim. Fine. If he wants to play this game, I’ll make sure he understands. “First of all, Jack, you were the one who treated marriage like a joke. You ran away from our engagement, remember?” “Secondly, you’re not a doctor. You’re just a guy still hung up on his ex. Get over yourself.” “And lastly… we’re done. Why would I need to keep your number? There’s no reason for it.” Oh, it felt so good to finally get that out. I’d been holding that in all day. “Where are you? Stay where you are. I’m coming to find you right now…” Jack’s voice was still shouting through the phone. Before I could respond, Ethan reached over and took the phone from me, his arm casually draping around my shoulders as he spoke into it. “Jack Linfield, right? If you have something to say, say it to me. Don’t raise your voice at my fiancée.” That deep, authoritative voice… it was lethal. There was stunned silence on the other end of the line, followed by some incoherent muttering before Jack hung up. I stood there, completely floored. If I had even a fraction of Ethan’s presence, I wouldn’t have let Jack walk all over me for six months. Actually, scratch that. If I had Ethan’s confidence, I wouldn’t have even given Jack the time of day!

On the way home, I couldn’t help but doze off in the car. When I woke up, I felt a soft jacket draped over me. Ethan must’ve noticed me stirring, because he glanced over and smiled. “Why didn’t you wake me?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. He reached out and gently readjusted the jacket on my shoulders. “You were exhausted. I wanted you to rest.” Wow. Thoughtful, but not in that cheesy, over-the-top way. The kind of guy who knows how to take care of you without making a big show of it. Is this what they mean by the charm of a mature man? Today, I was definitely starting to understand. I let out a small sigh. “Thank you. Really. I’m not even sure how to express my gratitude.” Scratching the back of my head, I considered how I could possibly repay Ethan for what he did today. The Woodson family had always believed in repaying favors, but I wasn’t sure how to handle this one. After all, Ethan was wealthy and didn’t need anything. He had a great life, except maybe the whole “needing a wife” part. Looked like it might be time to step up and continue my dad’s mission of finding him a match. Ethan gave me a look, his eyes sparkling with a hint of amusement. Then he leaned in slightly, bringing that familiar woody scent closer. Before I realized what was happening, he unhooked my seatbelt with ease, his hand brushing mine. “We’ve got plenty of time to figure it out,” he said softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. As I got out of the car, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the elevator’s shiny wall. Good grief, I looked like I’d just rolled out of bed. What a sight for Ethan to see!

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