Category: English

In my past life, my son Tony was in acute heart failure and desperately needed the only available biological valve. Yet, my husband, Richard, forced the hospital to give it to his first love’s son, Harry, to treat a minor heart murmur. I knelt before him, begging until my forehead was bloody and bruised, only to receive his cold, indifferent sneer. “Vivian’s son is sensitive, he cannot handle a fright. Can you stop being so malicious?” Later, Tony died of cardiac arrest on the operating table. In my absolute despair, I set fire to our home, dragging them all to hell with me. Reborn into this life, when Richard demanded the valve once again, I simply wiped my tears. I smiled and handed him the surgical consent form. “Fine. Give it to him. I won’t fight you for it.” But the moment he took the paper, Richard’s hand began to shake. 1 “Gwen, although Harry only has a congenital defect, he has always been sensitive and afraid of pain,” Richard’s voice echoed in the sterile, white hallway of the hospital, carrying a familiar, cold arrogance. “Tony’s heart is failing, yes, but he has always been a resilient boy. Besides, his rejection rate is incredibly high. Even if we gave him this valve, his body might not accept it. It is better to wait for the next batch.” “As my wife, can you try to show some basic compassion? Do you really have to fight a single mother over her child’s only lifeline?” The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway made my eyes burn. I blinked, staring at the man standing in front of me, his expression twisted with impatience. Richard. My husband, the man I once loved more than life itself, and the man I ultimately grew to despise with every fiber of my being. In his hand, he tightly gripped the surgical allocation slip. That slip represented the only highly compatible bio-active valve in the state, the final hope to save our son Tony’s life. In our past life, at this exact door of the pediatric intensive care unit, I had clawed at him like a wild animal when he suggested giving the valve to Vivian’s son. I had wept, screaming that Tony had been confined to that freezing hospital bed for three months, that his heart could stop beating at any second. But Richard had kicked me to the floor with utter disgust. My head had slammed against the hard marble, blood blurring my vision. He didn’t even look back at me as he turned and handed the allocation slip to a weeping Vivian. Looking down at me, he had said, “Gwen, the way you behave makes me sick. No wonder Tony is always so sickly under your care.” Ultimately, because he missed his critical surgical window, Tony’s tiny body grew cold in my arms on a stormy night. Before he drew his last breath, he clutched my finger and whispered, “Mom, it doesn’t hurt. Please don’t cry.” After my son’s death, I lost my mind. Richard claimed I was suffering from severe postpartum depression. To bury his own guilt, he committed me to a psychiatric hospital. On the day of Tony’s memorial, he took Vivian and Harry to Disneyland to celebrate Harry’s recovery. In that asylum, I found a box of matches and set the building on fire. The flames painted the night sky red. They didn’t kill that despicable couple, but they consumed me. The phantom pain of my flesh burning still seemed to linger in the depths of my soul. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to this very day. Seeing my silence, Richard assumed I was preparing to throw another tantrum. His expression darkened, his voice growing sharper. “Gwen, I am talking to you. Stop playing dead.” “Vivian is a single mother raising a child alone in this city. If anything happens to Harry, it will destroy her life.” “Besides, I was the one who pulled strings to get this valve. I have the right to decide who gets it.” 2 Not far away, Vivian stood leaning against the wall, dressed in a pale blue hospital gown. In her arms, Harry was playing a cartoon on an iPad at maximum volume, his cheeks flushed with healthy color. He looked nowhere near a state of critical illness. Seeing me look over, Vivian instantly put on a panicked expression, tears flowing on command. “Richard, Gwen, I am so sorry. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have brought Harry to this hospital.” “If Gwen is unwilling, let it go. I will take Harry back and manage his condition with medication. At worst, he just won’t be able to play sports.” As she spoke, her body began to slide weakly toward the floor. Richard reacted instantly, catching her in his arms. He turned to glare at me. “Gwen! Will you only be satisfied when you have driven this poor mother and child to their graves?” Looking at this performance, I found it incredibly absurd. In my past life, I cared too much about Richard. I wanted so desperately to preserve my family. That was why I fought so hard, why I dragged my dignity through the mud, begging him on my knees. And what did I get? I lost my son’s only lifeline, and ultimately, I lost my son. In this life, I would not make the same mistake. I took a deep breath, forcing down the absolute hatred boiling in my chest. Then, I looked up, offering Richard a remarkably gentle smile. “Alright.” Richard froze. His brow furrowed, the lecture he had prepared suddenly trapped in his throat. “What did you say?” I looked at him calmly, my voice softer than it had ever been. “I said, since Harry’s condition is so delicate, let him have it.” “After all, a child’s life is at stake. I wouldn’t want to be malicious.” I pulled a pen from my bag and signed my name on the treatment waiver. The tip of the pen slid across the paper, making a sharp scratching sound. Richard took the signed waiver, a look of bewilderment crossing his face, as if he couldn’t believe I had surrendered so easily. “You are really okay with this?” he asked suspiciously. I nodded, looking through the glass window at Tony, who lay in the ICU bed, hooked up to various tubes. “Yes. I am okay with it.” “You were right. We shouldn’t be selfish. Sometimes, we have to let things go.” The doubt in Richard’s eyes vanished, replaced by the smug satisfaction of a man who had won. “I am glad you finally see sense.” “I knew those tantrums of yours were just cries for attention. Deep down, you know how to behave.” He handed the waiver to Vivian, his voice dripping with tenderness. “Go register for the procedure, Vivian. Let’s not delay Harry’s surgery.” Vivian took the paper, a spark of triumph flashing in her eyes, though she still kept up her fragile act. “Richard, won’t Gwen hold a grudge against me for this?” “She won’t.” Richard didn’t even look at me as he wrapped his arm around Vivian’s shoulders, leading her toward the administrative office. “She is being sensible now. She finally understands what matters.” Their figures disappeared down the long hallway. They looked exactly like a happy, devoted family of three. The smile vanished from my face, replaced by an icy, absolute coldness. I looked down at Tony’s pale little face, gently running my fingers over his bruised hand, scarred from constant intravenous lines. My tears fell silently onto the white sheets. Tony, I am so sorry. Mom is not giving up on you. It is because Mom knows that this valve is actually a death sentence. In my past life, after Harry received that valve, I uncovered the truth. That specific batch of biological valves carried a severe genetic defect. Because of a data error during the cultivation process, the valves triggered an extremely violent autoimmune rejection once inside the human body. After Harry received it, his heart murmur disappeared, but his kidneys and liver failed completely within six months. And my Tony, given his incredibly weak state, would have died right on the operating table if we had used it. So, Richard. Since you love that child so much, I am more than happy to let you have this poison. 3 The moment Richard left, I slipped into the emergency stairwell and dialed a number I had kept hidden for years. The phone rang three times before it was answered. A deep, quiet voice came through the line, carrying a hint of disbelief and suppressed hope. “Gwen?” Hearing his voice, my throat tightened, and my tears nearly spilled over. Austin. He was a world-class pediatric cardiothoracic surgeon, my childhood friend, the boy next door who had protected me growing up. In my past life, when Tony was in critical condition, I had wanted to beg him for help. But Richard, driven by toxic jealousy, had spread rumors that Austin and I were having an affair. He threatened to cut off all funding for Tony’s treatment if I ever contacted him. For the sake of Tony’s immediate bills, and to preserve my battered dignity, I had cut off all contact. It was only after Tony died that Austin found out. He flew back from Switzerland immediately. At the cemetery gates, his eyes were bloodshot as he grabbed my shoulders and yelled, “Gwen, why didn’t you call me? Just one word from you, and I would have carved out my own heart to save Tony!” In this life, I would never push away the one person who truly wanted to save my son. “Austin.” I tried to keep my voice steady, though it trembled slightly. “I remember you mentioned that your research center in Switzerland is running a clinical trial for pediatric stem-cell cardiac therapy.” Austin’s tone instantly shifted to professional urgency. “Yes. But there are only three slots globally, and the screening process is extremely rigorous. Is Tony’s condition worsening?” “Yes,” I replied, leaning against the cold concrete wall. “Our options here are exhausted. Richard gave his only matching valve to someone else. I want to bring Tony to Switzerland, to you.” The line went silent for a few seconds. Then, I heard the sound of something heavy falling, as if he had knocked his chair over as he stood up. “Is Richard out of his mind? Tony is his own flesh and blood!” “He lost his mind a long time ago,” I said with a cold laugh. “Austin, I have made up my mind. I will do whatever it takes to save Tony. I will divorce him, I will leave with absolutely nothing.” “Alright.” Austin’s voice was filled with an absolute, reassuring strength. “Leave the clinical slot to me. Even if I have to pull every favor I have, I will secure it for Tony. Your job right now is to protect him and gather all his medical records.” “I will arrange a private medical charter to pick you both up. I should be there in twenty-four hours.” I looked at my watch. “Twenty-four hours. Okay. I will be waiting.” Hanging up the phone, I let out a long, slow breath. One day. If I could just get through this one day, I could take Tony and escape this hell. As for Richard. I looked out the window at the dark, storm-filled sky, a cruel smile touching my lips. Our accounts are finally ready to be settled. That evening, Richard returned to the hospital. He seemed to be in an excellent mood, carrying a large, limited-edition Lego box in his hand. “Harry’s pre-op checks went perfectly today. The doctor says the success rate is very high.” He set the box on the table, glancing at Tony, who was still on oxygen. “Tony isn’t awake yet? This boy is just too weak, he doesn’t take after me at all.” I was wiping Tony’s brow with a damp cloth. My hand paused for a fraction of a second before I replied softly, “The doctor said he needs absolute quiet.” Richard frowned, clearly displeased by my cold reception. “Gwen, I know you are still upset. But today, Harry’s situation was simply more urgent. The doctor said the micro-procedure is much easier to recover from.” “Besides, I bought this for Tony. It is the Star Wars collector’s set he has been asking for. I had someone import it from Europe.” 4 His tone was entirely patronizing, as if I should be kneeling to thank him for his generosity. I looked at the box. It was indeed the Star Wars set. But it was a highly complex model rated for ages fourteen and up. Tony was only five years old. Because of his heart failure, his hands shook so badly he could barely hold a spoon, let alone assemble thousands of tiny plastic blocks. I had explained this to Richard dozens of times. But he never bothered to listen. In his mind, he only remembered that Harry loved complex assembly toys because it made him look intelligent. This toy had probably been bought in duplicate. One for Harry, and the spare tossed to my son. I didn’t expose him. I simply pushed the box to the corner of the table. “Tony cannot play with this right now. Keep it.” Richard’s expression immediately hardened. “Gwen, don’t be ungrateful. I went out of my way to buy this for him, and this is how you behave?” “Are you still bitter because I gave the valve to Harry? Do you think I don’t love Tony?” “I told you, Harry’s case was an exception! Besides, I am Tony’s father. Even a beast wouldn’t harm its own offspring. Do you honestly think I would hurt him?” Father? Hearing that word come out of his mouth was so nauseating it made my skin crawl. In our past life, while Tony was in the emergency room being resuscitated, Richard was at the aquarium with Harry, watching the whales. On the day Tony was cremated, he was hosting a celebration dinner for Harry’s recovery. He even allowed Harry to play with Tony’s urn, knocking it to the floor. When I screamed, he simply shrugged and said, “He is just a child, he didn’t mean it. Don’t be so dramatic.” That was his version of being a father. I turned around, looking him dead in the eye, my gaze cutting like glass. “Richard, do you truly love Tony?” Richard flinched slightly under my stare. He quickly looked away, his voice rising to cover his guilt. “Of course I do! If I don’t love him, who do I love? I work myself to the bone every day to support this family, to pay for his treatments!” “But look at you. Ever since Tony got sick, you have become completely unhinged. You are paranoid, suspicious, constantly complaining like a miserable shrew.” “If you had half of Vivian’s grace and understanding, this home wouldn’t be so cold.” Vivian, always Vivian. In his world, Vivian was the golden standard of perfection. She was gentle, elegant, and understanding, the eternal muse of his youth. And I was simply the bitter, nagging woman who did nothing but ask for money. I nodded, agreeing with him. “You are right. I am nothing like her.” “So from now on, I will learn from her.” “Whatever decisions you make, I will support them. I won’t argue with you anymore.” Richard was stunned. He clearly hadn’t expected such an easy submission. He studied my face suspiciously, but finding no trace of sarcasm, he let out a sigh of relief. He reached out to drape his arm over my shoulder, a satisfied smile returning to his face. “That is my girl. There is no reason for husband and wife to keep secrets.” “As long as you behave and stop making scenes, I will take good care of you both. Once Harry’s surgery is successful, I will take us all on a vacation.” I subtly stepped back, avoiding his arm, and went back to packing my things. “I am tired. You should go rest.” Richard’s hand hovered in the air, before he pulled it back with an awkward chuckle. “Alright. You should get some sleep too. I am going back to the office tonight to oversee a major project.” To the office? He was going to the hospital to stay with Vivian and her son. I didn’t call him out. I simply gave a quiet nod. “Okay. Drive safe.” It was perfect. His absence made my plans much easier to execute.

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At the grand annual academic summit, I projected the surveillance footage of my fiancé and his graduate student in his private laboratory. The screen filled with their passionate, tangled embrace. The crowded auditorium erupted into absolute chaos. A week ago, I had been browsing an obscure international academic forum, lurking under an anonymous account, when I stumbled upon a thread: “Is it normal for my advisor to hold me while we do experiments?” Beneath it, someone had replied: “What kind of experiments?” The original poster answered: “He teaches me how to use the pipette hand-in-hand. He holds me from behind, his body so warm against mine that my hands shake and I can’t even align the pipette tip with the multi-well plate.” Another user quickly commented: “That definitely sounds like it exceeds the boundaries of professional teaching.” She immediately defended him: “But he told me I’m the most special student he has ever taken. He said I’m nothing like that boring, clinical bookworm of a fiancée he has, who only cares about raw data and papers. He said she has absolutely no romance in her, and he is sick of her. He told me that being with me is the only time he feels truly alive.” The post was accompanied by a blurry, candid photo. In the frame, a man in a white lab coat had his sleeve rolled up, revealing a silver watch. On the bezel of that watch was a tiny, distinct scratch. It was the exact same watch I had gifted Arthur. 1 He had scratched the bezel while personally hauling heavy equipment into our new laboratory. At the time, he had laughed, gently stroking my hair, and told me that even with the scratch, it was his favorite timepiece because it served as a monument to our shared beginning. Even more glaring was the chromatography machine in the background of the photo. Engraved on the side of its metal casing were our joint initials. I had traveled to nine countries to secure that exact, state-of-the-art model. It was a rare import, and I had personally wheeled it to his private workstation as an engagement gift. The blood in my veins turned to ice, and my throat tightened until I could barely breathe. Arthur had betrayed me. But the bitter irony was that once, I had been his student too. With trembling fingers, I refreshed the thread. Several users had begun to criticize her: “Are you actually looking for advice, or are you just bragging about sleeping with your advisor?” She shot back instantly: “It is not just an affair. It is a meeting of minds. He brought me into his lab right under his fiancée’s nose. He is even taking the breakthrough project from the Chief Scientific Officer and giving it to me so I can publish it and secure my career.” Another comment read: “I despise academic nepotism. That is not giving, that is theft! Aren’t you two ashamed of what you are doing to that Chief Scientist?” She replied: “Why should we be? He simply loves me more. He needs an understanding muse, not a cold, sterile research machine.” Every single word felt like a poisoned needle driving straight into my heart. Just ten days ago, Arthur had sat me down in his office, his face full of grave sympathy. “Giselle, someone in Europe just published a paper with your exact concept. Your current project is dead. You will have to start over and find a new direction.” It had been a lie. He had taken my blood, sweat, and tears, and handed it to his mistress as a stepping stone. Arthur had always been the epitome of professional distance. In our industry, he was considered as pure as distilled water, an intellectual monk devoted solely to science. When I was his student, he would always maintain a strict half-arm distance whenever we discussed data. When he first showed me how to use the pipette, his fingers had briefly brushed my wrist, and his ears had flushed a deep, bright red. He had told me back then that I was his most brilliant, most special student. Even after we realized our feelings were mutual, he was so terrified of rumors damaging my reputation that he waited until I graduated, until I stood beside him as an equal, before he ever dared to hold my hand in public. That disciplined restraint, that quiet integrity, had made me fall hopelessly in love with him. On the night he proposed, he told me that scientists value absolute devotion, and his devotion belonged entirely to me. Now, staring at the diamond ring on my finger, and then looking at the blurry photo of their bodies pressed together in our lab, a wave of pure nausea washed over me. Every vow he had ever whispered to me had been recycled into cheap, filthy lines to seduce a graduate student. The passion and dedication I poured into my research, which he had once cherished as my greatest quality, had now become the traits of a boring, clinical machine. I scrolled down further, and a newly uploaded photo appeared. It showed Arthur leaning down, his lips pressed against her neck. My stomach churned violently. I ran to the bathroom and retched until my chest ached. 2 As the criticism on the forum grew louder, the girl only became more arrogant. “I have to go now,” she posted. “His boring fiancée is sick, and he is terrified I might catch whatever she has. He is taking me abroad to help me relax.” Just that morning, before he left for the airport, Arthur had cradled my feverish body in his arms. His voice had been thick with tender concern. “I am going to use this international symposium to look for new research ideas for you, Giselle. Rest at home, sweetheart. Don’t overwork yourself. Seeing you sick breaks my heart.” He knew this was the final year for my tenure and promotion evaluation. Yet, he had stolen my project and handed it to another woman. To meet the year-end deadline, I had been working day and night, surviving on black coffee to draft a new proposal from scratch, completely ruining my health in the process. When I watched his taxi leave for the airport, I had felt so guilty for being too ill to accompany him, blaming myself for letting him carry my burdens alone. I had no idea he was jetting off to a tropical resort with his mistress. The sudden ringing of my phone broke the silence. It was Arthur. He always called the moment his flight landed. “Giselle, why is your voice so raspy? Have you been resting and taking your medicine?” his voice flowed through the receiver, dripping with warmth. When I didn’t reply, he sighed, as if making a grand sacrifice. “I have been thinking. Even if you can’t finish the new proposal in time, I will use my entire professional network to guarantee your promotion this year.” I let out a silent, bitter laugh. He knew exactly what that meant. If he did that, I would be branded a fraud for the rest of my career, a woman who climbed the ranks through nepotism rather than merit. “Arthur, you once told me you never wanted my talent to be overshadowed by gossip. You said you wanted me to stand on my own feet.” He cut me off with a soft sigh. “But I cannot bear to watch the woman I love suffer. To me, you are the best. Even if people accuse me of playing favorites, I don’t care.” He sounded incredibly devoted. But then, in the background, I heard the faint, sweet giggle of a woman. I gripped the phone tightly. “Who is at your door, Arthur?” He let out a quick, forced cough. “Just room service. I asked them to bring up some extra writing pads and pens.” “Alright, sweetheart, I need to get to the conference. Take care of yourself. I bought your favorite pastries and left them in the fridge. Eat them even if you don’t have an appetite.” I stared at the blank screen after he hung up. His prompt check-in calls upon landing were never about love. They were preemptive strikes, designed to keep me from calling him at an inconvenient moment and interrupting his vacation. That night, I opened the forum again. She had updated her status. “The unapproachable god has finally been brought down to earth. He knows exactly what I like to eat, and he guides my research hand-in-hand. Being with him feels so natural. He told me tonight was the most unforgettable night of his life.” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and shut down the page. Suppressing the bile rising in my throat, I walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. The pastries he had left were covered in a thick layer of crushed peanuts. I am severely allergic to peanuts. The girl’s posts had mentioned how Arthur had walked across town in the heat just to find her favorite peanut-rice cakes. He had brought her leftovers home for me. I picked up my phone and sent Arthur a message: “Arthur, are you really going to abuse your position like this?” He replied almost instantly, assuming I was still talking about the promotion: “Giselle, everyone in our field knows you are my fiancée. Even if I do absolutely nothing, people will still whisper. We might as well secure the title and make it official.” It was true. Even when I had worked myself to the bone to reach the top of my field and earn the title of Chief Scientific Officer, people still looked at me with suspicion. When we first announced our relationship after my graduation, anonymous letters had flooded the university administration, accusing me of trading favors for grades during my student years. The online vitriol had been savage. To silence the doubters, I had practically moved into the laboratory. I worked eighty-hour weeks, churning out paper after paper, until the scientific community had no choice but to recognize my work. He had watched me bleed for that respect. Now, he dismissed it all with a casual shrug. The man who had once stood before the board of regents to defend my honor, the man who had threatened to resign his prestigious fellowship rather than let them slander me, was gone. Only a hollow, grotesque shell remained. 3 My laptop screen flashed with a new email notification. It was a formal offer from a premier international research institute in Switzerland. They had doubled their previous salary offer, desperate to recruit me to lead their core molecular biology laboratory. I had turned them down twice before, solely because I wanted to remain by Arthur’s side. When we founded Aura Research, we had nothing but a three-desk office and my initial research project. Over five years, we had grown into a major listed biotechnology firm. Arthur used to wrap his arms around me and whisper, “Giselle, my intuition was right. You are the most brilliant scientist I have ever known. You are the true cornerstone of Aura.” Yet, behind my back, he had slipped his mistress into my laboratory, using our workspace for their cheap trysts, and stealing my intellect to build her career. The “temporary security camera malfunctions” and the mysterious leaks of my research concepts all made sense now. I drove to the laboratory, my body still shaking with fever, wanting only to download my raw data and files. But when I reached the executive research wing, his secretary blocked my path. She looked down at her desk, refusing to meet my eyes. “Dr. Taylor… I am sorry, but the access permissions for this entire wing have been transferred to Dr. Monroe’s graduate assistant, Miss Isla.” It was absurd. I had built this laboratory from the ground up, and now I was locked out of my own office. I took out my phone and sent Arthur a text: “Maybe you should just get a new fiancée. Your precious Miss Isla seems like she would fit the role perfectly.” My message disappeared into a void. He didn’t reply, and my calls went straight to voicemail. Around me, my colleagues were whispering, their eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and pity. An hour later, a text from an unknown number popped up on my screen. It was Isla. “Sensing that your time is up, Chief? Arthur is in the shower right now, and his phone is with me. He doesn’t have time for you.” “By the way, he told me you aren’t as innocent as you look. He said you were just a cheap student who seduced her advisor in college.” “I am different. Arthur pursued me. He told me that when he met me, he finally understood what uncontrollable passion felt like.” A sharp, suffocating pain flared in my chest. I coughed violently, tears spilling over my cheeks. When the rumors had threatened to destroy me years ago, Arthur had held me through the night, telling me we would prove them all wrong. Now, he was the one handing his mistress the knife to stab me in my oldest wound. I drove back to our quiet, cold apartment. Near midnight, my phone finally rang. It was him. “Giselle, you didn’t call me all day. I was starting to feel neglected.” His tone was smooth and affectionate. I felt a chill run down my spine. He clearly had no idea that Isla had used his phone to text me. “I did try to reach you,” I said, my voice dead and flat. “You just didn’t see it.” He let out a light, nervous laugh. “Ah, the conference must have kept me too busy. But I have some wonderful news to share.” “My new graduate student, Isla, has incredible potential. She just presented a research concept at the seminar that is remarkably similar to your work.” “I am planning to appoint her as the new Chief Scientific Officer of Aura, and you can step down to serve as her deputy. That way, you can guide her, and we can co-author the main projects. With my influence, your tenure will be guaranteed.” “Are you listening, Giselle? You should really thank her. Having both of you working under me is the greatest blessing of my life.” It was a blessing for him, but a nightmare for me. My teeth ground together as I asked, “Arthur, what if I refuse?” He let out an irritated sigh. “Don’t be childish, Giselle. The Chief position belongs to whoever can produce results. You haven’t submitted a single viable project this quarter. Why embarrass yourself by clinging to a title you aren’t earned?” I stood on the balcony, letting the freezing night wind numb my face. I thought of the endless nights I had spent in the lab, the times I had been hospitalized from physical exhaustion just to keep Aura ahead of our competitors. I had poured my life into this company, only for him to hand it to his mistress. I pulled out my phone, opened the email from the Swiss institute, and hit reply: I accept your offer. I will start next month.

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For ten agonizing years, I was stalked by my former middle school classmate, Aria. She had absolutely zero concept of boundaries. She would show up uninvited to my basketball games with sports drinks, or wait outside in the freezing winter snow just to hand me a thermos of hot soup. She single-handedly ruined two of my relationships. Worse, she somehow brainwashed my coworkers, my friends, and even my own family with her sickening brand of “deep devotion.” They constantly lectured me, saying no one in this world would ever love me as much as she did. They told me I should just man up and put a ring on her finger. Finally, after I rejected her confessions for what felt like the millionth time, she turned around and started dating my buddy, Liam. “Derek, I don’t want to have a crush on you anymore,” she told me. My friends secretly placed bets on how long it would take for me to realize my true feelings and start crawling back to her on my hands and knees. They had absolutely no idea that I was thrilled. I was practically throwing a party in my head. I was finally free from that suffocating nightmare. 1 Aria and I went to the same middle school. We were in different grades and different classes, so we rarely ever crossed paths. But one afternoon during my eighth-grade year, I was walking home and stumbled upon Aria being harassed by some local street punks. I had inherited my dad’s genes and was already hitting six feet tall. Just standing there with a heavy scowl was enough to scare off those scrawny losers. Back then, Aria didn’t even look like a middle schooler. She was tiny, frail, with dull, stringy blonde hair. She was crying so hard her knees were buckling, so I figured I might as well just walk her to her front door. Later, Aria would tell me, “No one has ever been that nice to me.” I didn’t think much of it. It was just a random act of kindness. I had no idea I had just planted a ticking time bomb that would blow up my entire life. After that day, every time I glanced over my shoulder on my way home, I would see Aria trailing silently behind me. I figured we were walking in the same general direction anyway, and maybe she was just terrified those punks would come back. So, I silently allowed it. I even chased off a few creeps who tried to bother her again. When high school hit, I moved into the dorms at a prep academy across town. I thought my paths with Aria had permanently severed. I was dead wrong. On the very first day of my sophomore year, Aria materialized right outside my homeroom door. She had grown taller. She looked entirely different. She shoved a sickeningly sweet-scented pink envelope into my chest and sprinted away down the hall. Over the roaring cheers and catcalls of my classmates, I chased her down, shoved the letter back into her hands, and looked her dead in the eye. I told her I only cared about my GPA and getting into a good college. I had zero interest in dating. I thought I was being brutally clear. I thought a rejection that blunt would instantly sever whatever romantic delusion she had cooking in her head. It didn’t. She began weaving herself into every microscopic crack of my existence. If I played ball, she was on the bleachers with water. If I went to the cafeteria, she was fiercely guarding a seat for me. Even on holidays, she would stand like a statue outside my classroom, waiting to walk to the bus stop with me. I told her over and over again. I told her I didn’t need a stalker. I told her she was suffocating me. At first, she would just stare at the floor in silence. Then her eyes would turn bloodshot, and heavy tears would splash onto the back of her hands. “But I have feelings for you. I want us to be together. I want to do these things for you.” But I didn’t want it! Since polite declines and harsh warnings bounced right off her, I resorted to throwing the water she brought right into the trash. I treated her like she was invisible in the cafeteria. I started taking massive detours through town just to shake her off my trail before going home. But barely half an hour after I arrived, Aria would magically appear at the front doors of my apartment complex, her knees scraped and dripping blood from tripping on the pavement. She had actually tracked down my exact address and apartment number. My dad brought her upstairs and chewed me out relentlessly. My mom cleaned her wounds, applied bandages, and demanded to know why I was bullying a defenseless girl. I was practically screaming in frustration. “I didn’t touch her!” “Then why did she drag herself all the way here looking like this? If you didn’t do this, who did?” I was completely defenseless. Aria just sat on my family’s couch, letting the tears stream down her cheeks in silence, allowing my parents to rip me to shreds without offering a single word to clear my name. I stopped caring about saving her pride. I spilled the entire twisted truth right then and there. My dad just burst out laughing. “Damn, son. You’ve got some serious charm.” My mom just sighed in exhaustion. She pulled Aria aside for a private chat, and then she and my dad drove the girl home. When my mom got back, she told me Aria had promised never to pull a dangerous stunt like that again. I exhaled a massive breath, genuinely believing the nightmare was over. But I was naive. She just stopped coming to my house. At school, she was still a parasite, constantly finding ways to latch onto my side. It was impossible to describe the sheer disgust I felt during those years. The entire student body knew Aria was obsessed with me. My buddies would poke me in the ribs, joking about how relentlessly devoted she was, asking when I was finally going to cave. And those were the nice comments. Aria, on the other hand, became a prime target for severe bullying. When someone tipped me off and I pulled her out of a pitch-black gym storage closet, she buried her face in my chest and sobbed hysterically. I didn’t want to give her even a sliver of false hope. I physically pried her fingers off my shirt, ignoring her pathetic weeping, and shoved her an arm’s length away. “Aria, stop obsessing over me. Stop doing things that only ruin your own life. It’s embarrassing. It’s pathetic.” I glared at her. “Put all this psychotic energy into your grades, alright?” It was like she was physically incapable of understanding human speech. “If I get my grades up… if I get accepted into the exact same college as you, you’ll finally date me, right?” I stared at her tear-drenched, desperately hopeful face, and I felt sick to my stomach. I spun on my heel to walk away, but I stopped, whipped back around, and spat out the harshest words I could find. “Get this through your head. I will never have feelings for you!” “I don’t care what you do. I don’t like you! I will never, ever be your boyfriend!” “Do you understand me?” Aria stared at me like I had just shot her. She collapsed onto the gym floor, wailing. I pulled out my phone, called the dean of students, and walked away. When it came time to apply for colleges, I guarded my list like a state secret. Everyone around me finally started to realize that I genuinely despised this girl. When I finally moved out to the East Coast for a prestigious university in the city, I tasted the first breath of pure, unadulterated freedom. That freshman year was the absolute best year of my life. Then sophomore year started, and my personal hell resurrected. Aria had actually gotten accepted into my university. She even declared the exact same major. During the fall welcome ceremony, I was on stage giving a speech as a student representative. The second the crowd broke apart, Aria darted out from the masses and blocked my path. “Derek! You promised me back in high school. You said if I got into your college, you’d let me be your girlfriend.” “Well, I’m here now. So are we making this official?” She was grinning from ear to ear, staring at me like I was the center of the universe. My entire body went rigid. I was in full panic mode, turning to explain the situation to the girl standing next to me. But my girlfriend’s face had already turned to stone. She ripped her hand out of mine and walked away without looking back. 2 Yeah. I had a girlfriend. When Aria realized I was already taken, she started sobbing like I had committed some ultimate betrayal. “You promised me! You said you would wait for me!” “I love you so much! How could you do this to me?” I swear to God, I was losing my mind. When did I ever utter those words? I denied it repeatedly. I told everyone in earshot I never said anything remotely like that, and I never would. But Aria refused to listen. “I spent all these years studying just to keep my end of our promise! How can you just back out?” I forced my voice to stay level. I asked her exactly when, where, and how I had supposedly made this promise. If I said it, there had to be context. Aria just clammed up. She dropped into a crouch on the campus lawn, hugging her knees, crying so violently her shoulders shook. I felt the burning stares of dozens of students. I heard their whispers. For a second, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I knew my peaceful college life was officially dead and buried. My girlfriend dumped me that very night. I really liked her. I didn’t want my first real relationship to end in a fiery trainwreck, and I definitely didn’t want Aria destroying the peace I had fought so hard to build. I tried to explain the stalking to my girlfriend. I swore on my life I never made any pact with Aria. She said she believed me, but the damage was done. “I just wanted a normal college romance. I don’t want to be dragged into this insane toxic drama, and I definitely don’t want people calling me a homewrecker.” Her eyes were red when she apologized and handed back every gift I had ever bought her. I was completely hollowed out. I went to a dive bar off-campus and drank until my vision blurred. When the nausea finally hit, I opened my eyes and realized the blurry figure wiping my face with a damp towel in the booth was Aria. I stared into her obsessively infatuated eyes, and a flood of pure, unfiltered malice breached my sanity. Since she was so desperately obsessed with me, why not just date her? Everyone on campus already thought I was a toxic trashbag anyway. Why not lean into the role? I could date her, use the title of ‘boyfriend’ to completely shatter her, and inflict every ounce of pain she had caused me right back onto her. Maybe once her heart was entirely pulverized, she would finally leave me alone. But the twisted thought vanished as quickly as it came. I didn’t even understand the root of her delusion. If it was because I scared off some punks years ago, my endless cruelty since then should have snapped her back to reality. The only thing I knew for sure was that Aria was dangerously relentless. I had rejected her a thousand times, and she still lived in her own warped reality where her sacrifices mattered. If I actually gave her the title of a girlfriend, she would just dig her claws in deeper. The thought of spending my future chained to someone I violently resented made my skin crawl. When I sobered up, I sat her down. I told her I didn’t like her. I would never like her. I told her to stay the hell out of my life. I had recited that exact script countless times over the years. Her reaction was identical. She sat completely still. Her massive, hollow eyes stared at me with sickening sorrow as the tears dripped off her chin. “Why can’t you just like me?” “I’ve tried so hard. I’ve spent years doing everything for you. Why can’t you just give me a chance?” “Even just a tiny bit.” She looked incredibly pitiful. But all I felt was a raging inferno tearing through my chest, making me want to physically shatter her pathetic facade. What did she mean, ‘why’? You either click with someone, or you don’t. You can’t just forcefully grind your way into a romance like it’s a video game achievement. But Aria was immune to logic. She possessed a terrifying, infinite stamina when it came to stalking me. No matter how many times I broke her down, she would lick her wounds and throw herself right back into the fire. I stopped trying to reason with a psycho. I treated her like she didn’t exist. Thanks to my ex-girlfriend clearing the air, the rumors about me being a manipulative jerk slowly fizzled out. Aria’s reputation shifted, too. In less than six months, she went from being the tragic victim of a broken promise to the campus laughingstock, a desperate girl with zero self-respect. “She’s having a hard time. She’s a good girl, Derek. Even if you don’t want her, you don’t have to stomp all over her feelings.” That was Liam. He had been my closest friend back in high school. He went from understanding my misery to suddenly being completely captivated by Aria’s “undying loyalty.” He had tried to lecture me multiple times back then, telling me to go easy on her because she was a girl. I had distanced myself from him before graduation specifically because of that. But I never expected him to take a bus all the way to New York just to advocate for her. I looked at his deeply disappointed expression, catching the faint flicker of frustration and jealousy buried in his eyes. Suddenly, the puzzle pieces snapped together. “Liam. You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” He didn’t panic. He just hesitated for a split second before owning it. “Yeah. I like her. She’s amazing. She…” “You’re the one who told her I promised to date her in college. Aren’t you?” Liam’s face hardened. “She was getting bullied every day because of you. Her grades were tanking. I just needed to give her a reason to keep fighting.” I drove my fist straight into his jaw. “If you wanted her to fight, you should have manned up and asked her out! Why the hell did you use my name?” “Do you have any idea that your little motivational lie cost me my relationship?!” Liam staggered back, then lunged at me, swinging wild. “So what?! You owe her!” Aria came sprinting out of nowhere to break us up. When she grabbed Liam’s arms, I used the opening to land three solid hooks to his face. Liam roared and tried to charge me again, but Aria threw herself right in front of me, shielding my body. “Liam! Don’t you dare touch him!” I saw the absolute heartbreak shatter Liam’s eyes, and I actually burst out laughing. What an absolute circus. I shoved Aria out of my personal space and laid it out bare. “I never said I’d date you. Ever. Liam made that up to motivate you, using my name as bait.” Aria froze. I chuckled bitterly. “Aria, he’s in love with you. Are you blind?” “I genuinely hope you two end up together. Go ruin someone else’s life. Really. Best of luck.” I turned and walked away. Aria screamed after me, sobbing, “Derek! You’re a monster!” And Liam just muttered, his voice cracking, “Aria…”

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On the day of my agonizing labor, I fought with everything I had to bring my husband’s child into the world. Ben wept with relief, pressing his forehead against mine, his eyes full of deep, aching tenderness. “Jess, he is perfect. He is healthy, and he looks just like you. The doctor gave you a sedative, sweetheart. Just close your eyes and rest.” I squeezed his hand, a weak smile brushing my lips. The Monroes had struggled with fertility for generations. After years of painful injections and endless medication, I had finally delivered a healthy baby boy. But just before the darkness claimed me, the muffled voices of my husband and my brother, Nate, drifted through the heavy haze of the sedative. “Do it, Nate. Rainey might have been adopted by our family, but she has always been fragile and insecure. She compares herself to Jess in everything.” “This time, because her own baby was born with a dark birthmark, she has been completely devastated. If she finds out Jess gave birth to a perfectly healthy boy, it will break her.” Nate’s hands trembled as he held the surgical shears. “Ben, are you sure? This might be the only child you ever have. You really want to clip his finger and make him disabled?” My heart constricted violently. The blood in my veins turned to ice. “Don’t talk about it, Nate.” Ben’s voice wavered, but then it hardened with terrifying resolve. “We already agreed. Rainey has suffered too much. Protecting her is our responsibility. If I wasn’t bound to Jess by that childhood arrangement, well, forget it. I’ve already failed Rainey in this life. Nothing matters more than keeping her happy from now on.” I tried to wake up, screaming inside, but my limbs felt like lead. 1 But my body betrayed me. Under the heavy weight of the sedative, I could not even flutter my eyelids. A sharp, piercing wail of a newborn shattered the quiet of the room. Nate’s voice drifted over again, carrying a faint, relieved chuckle. “It’s done. Go tell Rainey the good news. This should cheer her up.” Ben’s response was eager and hurried. “Thanks, Nate. I’ll leave the rest to you.” I lay there, my body frozen, feeling as though I had been plunged into an abyss. That desperate cry echoed in my mind, refusing to fade. “No!” I jolted awake, gasping for air. Looking around the unfamiliar recovery room, my heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I threw off the blanket, desperately trying to get out of bed, but a pair of strong, familiar hands caught my shoulders, pinning me down. “What’s wrong, Jess?” Ben looked down at me, his eyes wide with concern. “You just gave birth. You are incredibly weak. The doctor said you cannot get out of bed yet.” “Where is my baby?” I stared at him, my gaze cutting like a knife. Ben’s eyes rimmed with red. He hesitated, looking away before speaking in a low, choked voice. “Jess, I am going to tell you the truth, but you have to stay calm.” “The baby, he was born with a congenital defect. His middle finger is missing half its length. Nate took him to a specialist right away to see if there is any way to reconstruct it.” “Don’t worry.” He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tight against his chest. “No matter what it takes, no matter the cost, I will find a way to fix our son.” Listening to his shameless lie, my chest tightened. It felt as though a thousand needles were piercing my heart over and over, suffocating me. I pushed him away with all the strength I could muster. “I want to see my baby. Now!” I stumbled toward the door, my legs trembling. Just as I reached the hallway, I ran headfirst into Nate. He was cradling a sleeping infant in his arms. A gasp of relief escaped my throat. I snatched the baby from him, immediately unwrapping the blanket to check his tiny hands. Ten perfect fingers. Not a single scratch. Wait. Something was wrong. My hands shook, and I nearly dropped the child. Nate quickly took the baby back, glaring at me with deep disapproval. “You are a mother now, Jess. How can you be so careless? Rainey’s baby is the pride of our family. What if you had dropped him?” Ignoring his scolding, I gripped his arm. “Where is my baby, Nate? Ben said you took him. Where is he?” Nate blinked, a sudden look of guilt crossing his face. “Oh. I ran into Rainey on the way, and she needed to use the restroom. I just left your baby on the plastic chairs by the elevator.” The world seemed to spin. I pushed past him and ran down the corridor. Ben chased after me, calling my name. But then, a soft, delicate voice echoed from behind us. “Ben.” The hurried footsteps behind me stopped instantly. Mercifully, my baby was still on the bench. Two kind strangers were standing guard over him. I wept as I thanked them, cradling my son against my chest. Looking down at his tiny, bandaged hand, a fresh wave of agony washed over me. When I carried my baby back to the room, sound of laughter drifted through the half-open door. Ben and Nate were huddled around Rainey, eagerly playing with the baby in her arms. They looked like a perfect, happy family. And I felt like the stray they had accidentally brought home. I wiped a tear from my baby’s soft cheek, turned around, and walked to the nurse’s station to borrow a phone. I dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. “I’ve decided to join the classified research project.” The voice on the other end lit up with excitement. “Jess! I am so glad you finally realized how much the department needs you. But this project is a ten-year commitment in a secure, isolated facility. Are you sure you can leave your family behind? What about the baby?” “I am bringing my son with me,” I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears. “But I have one condition.” “Name it.” “Help me find the best pediatric reconstructive surgeon in the world. We need to leave within the week.” The line went quiet for a moment, the tone shifting to one of serious concern. “Jess, what happened?” “Please don’t ask. Just help me.” A heavy sigh came through the receiver. “Alright. Consider it done. I will have everything arranged within seven days.” 2 “Jess.” Rainey was the first to notice me standing at the door. Her soft call made the two men freeze, the cheerful smiles on their faces instantly turning into awkward grimaces. Ben quickly hurried toward me. “Jess, is the baby okay?” I didn’t say a word. I walked past him, heading straight for my bed. “Please don’t be sad, Jess.” Rainey handed her baby to Nate, then reached into her bag, pulling out a delicate gold bracelet and a matching lock charm. “Ben and Nate got these for my baby. They had them blessed at a temple to keep him safe and healthy.” “But I want your baby to have them instead. I am sure your little boy will get better soon. Don’t worry.” I looked down at the gleaming gold pieces. Before Rainey’s baby was even born, I had watched Ben spend weeks meticulously choosing these exact gifts. At the time, I foolishly thought they were for our child. It was all a lie. “No, thank you,” I said, my voice cold and flat. “Since it was a gift of love from them to your child, my son doesn’t deserve to wear it.” Rainey’s hand hovered in the air, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the gold. “Jess, are you still angry with me? Do you still think I am trying to steal what is yours?” Her lower lip trembled, and her face grew pale. I wanted to laugh. Had she ever stopped? From the moment she was adopted into our home at ten years old, she had taken over my life. On her very first night, she claimed she was afraid of the dark, and my parents gave her half of my bedroom. Later, when she caught a mild cold, she said she was afraid of making me sick, and I was permanently moved to a tiny, drafty spare room down the hall. When I was thirteen, I scored the highest marks in the city. Nate bought me a limited-edition Lego set as a reward. Rainey cried in her room for an hour, and by evening, my Lego set belonged to her. My new dresses became her dresses. Even the university I fought so hard to get into, she entered right alongside me, riding on the coattails of my family’s connections. And then there was Ben. He was my childhood friend. When he knelt and proposed to me, I finally believed there was something in this world that belonged solely to me. But it was only because of a stupid childhood arrangement between our parents. How blind had I been? It took the mutilation of my own son to finally wake me up to the truth. Seeing my silence, Rainey stuffed the gold lock into Ben’s hand. “Forget it, Ben. Since Jess is unhappy, you should take it back.” Ben’s face darkened instantly. “Jess, it is just a gold lock. If you want one, I will buy you another. There is no need to make a scene and ruin everyone’s day.” I turned away, too exhausted to argue. My body was still aching, and my energy was rapidly draining. I placed my baby gently into his bassinet, intending to lie down and rest. But Rainey suddenly lunged forward. Seeing her hands reaching directly toward my baby’s bassinet, right toward his injured hand, panic surged through me. I threw my weight forward, pushing her away. The next second, a stinging slap cracked across my face. The force of the blow made my ears ring. I turned my head slowly, looking at Ben. His hand was still raised in the air, his expression icy and furious as he held a trembling Rainey in his arms. “Jess, how can you be so vicious?” “Over a gold lock, you would put your hands on your own sister?” “Do you have any idea how bad Rainey’s back injury is? If I hadn’t caught her, she would have slammed into the sharp edge of that table!” Nate stepped forward, his eyes cold. “I saw the whole thing, Jess. Rainey just lost her balance, and instead of helping her, you shoved her.” “You grew up in the same house, ate the same food. How did you turn out so incredibly selfish and cruel?” “Apologize to Rainey. Now.” 3 I was the cruel one? Rainey had targeted my baby’s bandaged hand on purpose. She had been standing perfectly fine, yet somehow, she managed to lose her balance on a flat, even floor. Looking at the two of them shielding her like she was a fragile glass doll, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “I am sorry, Rainey.” Rainey sniffled, leaning into Ben’s chest before stepping back. “It’s okay. I know Jess didn’t mean to.” Ben’s expression softened slightly. “I will have my assistant buy another gold lock and send it over. You don’t need to be jealous of Rainey.” I didn’t even bother to smile. My child would never need anything from him again. On the day I was discharged, Ben had promised to pick me up. But by the time I took a taxi back to the Taylor residence, he was nowhere to be found. Instead, I saw Rainey’s latest social media update. “Taking the baby for his vaccinations. I am so terrified of needles, but thankfully, I have someone here to keep us safe.” The post was accompanied by a photo of a man’s back, a baby resting on his shoulder. I didn’t even need to zoom in. I recognized the slope of those shoulders instantly. It was Ben. The ringing of my phone broke my train of thought. “Jess, I have managed to contact a world-class reconstructive surgeon. But he is currently in Europe and cannot travel here. You will need to bring the baby to him.” “Okay,” I said, a weight lifting from my chest. “I will pack our things and leave tomorrow.” “Going where?” Nate’s voice startled me. He was standing near the doorway, his brow furrowed in disapproval. I quickly locked my phone, my voice returning to a neutral calm. “A friend recommended a private wellness retreat. I am going to check it out.” He didn’t press further, his tone turning indifferent. “Rainey is coming back to stay for a few days. If you don’t have any pressing business, you should leave early.” My grip tightened on the phone. Ten years of secure, classified research meant I would not see this place again for a very long time. Before leaving, I simply wanted to spend one last night in the house where my parents had raised me. Five years ago, I refused to give up my research assistant position to Rainey. In a fit of tears, Rainey had run out of the house. Our parents had chased after her into the rainy night, only to be hit by a truck. Since that day, Nate had hated me. He believed I was the one who killed them. “I will be gone tomorrow morning,” I said quietly. “Good.” Before dinner, Ben walked through the door, carrying Rainey’s bags. “Ben, when that needle went into the baby’s arm, I couldn’t even look. I am so glad you were there,” Rainey said, her voice dripping with sweet affection. Ben gave her a gentle smile, but then his eyes found me, and he quickly walked over. “Jess, I spent the afternoon consulting with several specialists about our son’s hand. That’s why I couldn’t pick you up. Nate told me you came here. Why didn’t you call me?” Rainey’s eyes flashed with a sudden spark of jealousy, though she quickly masked it with a sweet smile. I tested the temperature of the formula on my wrist, gently placing the bottle into my baby’s mouth. “I forgot,” I replied, not looking up. He hesitated, reaching out to touch the baby. “You must be exhausted, sweetheart. Let me hold him.” I subtly shifted my shoulder, shielding my baby from his touch. His hand froze in midair, his face tightening as he slowly drew back. That night, my baby’s soft whimpering woke me. Before I could even open my eyes, low whispers from the hallway drifted through the door. “Ben, can my baby call you Daddy?”

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The Sterling family, who had always longed for a daughter, finally welcomed their little heiress, Lily Sterling. Grandpa Richard Sterling was so thrilled he immediately announced he’d be leaving his multi-billion dollar fortune to Lily. But at her welcome party, the private doctor, Dr. Reed, knelt on the floor, his face ashen. “Mr. Sterling, Lily is very frail. She’s in respiratory failure. I’m afraid… I’m afraid she won’t make it through the night!” Mrs. Evelyn Sterling fainted on the spot. Hearing this, Lily’s eight older brothers charged towards me, ready to give me, the newly hired intern nanny, a good beating. I was trembling with fear, about to explain, when a furious baby voice suddenly echoed in my mind: “The perfume on that woman in the white dress is poisonous! I only faked my breathlessness because I smelled it! Quick, get me to somewhere ventilated!” “After pulling a VIP spawn with 100,000 good karma points, I’m getting poisoned right out of the gate? Whoever saves me gets a billion dollars!” The next second, I lunged towards Lily.

“Don’t touch her!” I pushed away the maid blocking the crib and scooped up the baby, swaddle and all. Just then, Ethan Sterling, the eldest son, strode forward, veins bulging on the back of his hand. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” I clutched the baby and backed away several steps, my back hitting the wine cabinet, making the glasses clink loudly. “She’s not dead! She can still be saved!” Dr. Reed, who was still kneeling nearby, his face darkening, immediately stood up. “Nonsense!” “The child is in severe respiratory failure, her cardiopulmonary function is almost at a standstill. What do you, an intern nanny, know?!” Sarah White, Mr. Sterling’s secretary, had red-rimmed eyes, but her fingers were tightly clenched. “Chloe, I know you just started and are afraid of taking responsibility, but you can’t torment the baby like this.” “Lily is already so pitiful, why are you making her suffer more?” As she spoke, she moved two steps closer to me. That sickly sweet perfume scent wafted into my nose again. The little thing in my arms screamed in my head. “That’s the smell!” “Back off, back off! If I smell it again, I’ll really kick the bucket!” My scalp tingled, and I quickly dodged sideways with the baby, putting some distance between us and Sarah. Mr. Sterling, David, who had been by the unconscious Evelyn’s side, suddenly whipped his head around, his eyes bloodshot. “What did you just say?” My palms were sweating from nerves. “Lily isn’t dying naturally; she was poisoned, which caused her to stop breathing.” “She can’t stand this strong scent. She needs to be taken to a well-ventilated place immediately!” Dr. Reed’s face changed, and his voice shot up. “Absurd!” “I’ve been practicing for twenty years! Are you saying I can’t even tell if an infant is breathing or not?” “Mr. Sterling, this nanny is clearly trying to shirk responsibility and is deliberately spreading baseless rumors!” Noah Sterling, the third son, slammed his fist on the table, shattering a wine glass. “Lily has always been fine, how could she suddenly be poisoned?” Hearing this, Sarah White’s eyes immediately reddened. “It’s all my fault…” “I just thought Lily was so cute and got a bit closer to look at her. If I had known Chloe would make a fuss over it, I wouldn’t have gone near her.” The baby’s voice in my arms was trembling with anger. “She’s faking it! Still faking it!” “She didn’t spray ordinary perfume at all; it’s mixed with irritants that are deadly to infants!” I gritted my teeth and looked up. “Mr. Sterling, there’s something wrong with the perfume she’s wearing!” Sarah White’s face subtly changed, but she quickly approached me again, her eyes red. “What do you mean?” “I’m kindly comforting Mr. Sterling, and because you can’t save the child, you want to pin the blame on me?” The Sterling sons’ gazes grew colder and colder. My legs were shaking, but the little one in my arms was growing weaker, and the voice in my head kept urging me. “Get me out of here! There are too many people in this room, and the air is stale. I’m going to suffocate!” I took a deep breath, deciding to go all in. “Now isn’t the time to assign blame!” “Any more delay, and Lily really will lose her life!” Dr. Reed stepped forward with a stern face. “If we let her continue this madness, the child won’t even have her final dignity.” “Mr. Sterling, apprehend her at once!” Two bodyguards immediately closed in. My gaze swept across the room, spotting a half-open French door at the far end of the banquet hall. Then I looked at the extremely weak Lily in my arms. “Go! A billion dollars! I always keep my promises!” My mind raced, I hugged the baby tight, turned, and ran.

I had barely run two steps when someone roughly yanked my shoulder. Sarah White lunged from behind, her sharp nails digging into my flesh. “Stop her! She’s trying to steal the baby!” That shout sent the entire banquet hall into chaos. Several bodyguards rushed forward simultaneously, blocking my path to the window. I was forced to retreat repeatedly, my lower back hitting the buffet table. “I’m not stealing the baby! I’m saving her!” Liam Sterling, the fourth son, sneered, slamming a carving knife onto the table. “Saving her?” “You’re running around with a child who’s almost breathless, and you call that saving her?” Dr. Reed quickly approached, sweat beading on his forehead. “Mr. Sterling, we can’t let her continue this madness.” “Lily’s body is already naturally frail. If she falls or gets bumped, it will even be difficult to determine the cause of death!” The baby’s voice in my arms was almost crying. “I’m not dead yet! What ’cause of death’ are you talking about?!” “Why are these people more impatient than the Grim Reaper himself?!” I almost laughed at her remark, but more than that, I was alarmed. Her voice was much weaker than before. I couldn’t afford to delay. I dodged sideways with the baby, stepping on a chair and scrambling over it. Several champagne flutes crashed to the floor. Noah Sterling cursed angrily. “That crazy woman!” As I landed, a hand suddenly blocked my way. It was Mr. Sterling, David. His eyes were bloodshot, and his entire demeanor was seething with suppressed anger. “Say that again.” My breath was ragged, I clutched the swaddle tight, squeezing out each word. “Lily isn’t critically ill; she suffered from breathlessness induced by an irritating scent.” “As long as she leaves this place and breathes clean air, she can still wake up.” Sarah White, her face pale, clutched her lower abdomen, her voice choked with tears. “Mr. Sterling, she’s slandering me…” “I’m carrying your child too. How could I possibly harm Lily?” At this statement, the entire hall fell silent. The sons were also stunned. Mr. Sterling’s pupils suddenly constricted. “What did you say?” Sarah White’s tears fell, and she gently placed a hand on her stomach. “I had planned to tell you later.” “I found out at the hospital today; I’m already over a month pregnant.” “I know it’s not appropriate to say this now, but I just wanted to be by your side, and I never expected to be falsely accused like this…” Hearing this, the baby’s voice in my arms was furious. “Pfft! She’s bringing up her pregnancy now, she’s treating you all like idiots!” “Forget about her for now; I’m really running out of air!” Just then, Sarah White took another step forward. The scent wafted over, and Lily in my arms stiffened. Her already faint body temperature also began to drop. My face instantly changed, and I violently dodged sideways. “Don’t come near her!” Sarah White flinched at my shout, her tears falling even more profusely. “Mr. Sterling, did you see that?” “She’s so hostile towards me; it’s clearly premeditated.” Dr. Reed immediately chimed in. “Exactly.” “And the child’s problem occurred while she was under her care. The most suspicious person, by default, is her.” Mason Sterling, the second son, slowly advanced towards me, his voice low. “Either put Lily down, or I’ll do it myself.” Lily in my arms seemed to exert her last ounce of strength, calling out in a tiny voice. “The window! To the left! There’s a breeze over there!” My peripheral vision caught sight of a crack in the side door of the banquet hall, leading to a patio. I took a sharp breath, hugged the baby, and dashed towards it. Mason reached out to block me, but I lowered my head and shoulder-barged past his arm. Footsteps behind me scrambled chaotically. Sarah White shrieked. “Grab her! Don’t let her take the baby away!” The moment my hand touched the doorknob, I was violently shoved from behind. I instantly lost my balance. To protect the baby, I twisted my body, my knees and elbows hitting the ground hard. The swaddle was still tightly cradled in my arms. A commotion erupted around me, and the cold air from the patio finally streamed in through the door crack. The baby’s faint voice in my head trembled slightly. “It’s… it’s working a little…”

“Close the door!” Dr. Reed sharply ordered, and two bodyguards immediately rushed over, trying to re-close the patio door. I was still kneeling on the ground, my knees burning with pain, but my mind cleared instantly. I lunged forward with the baby, half my body wedging into the door crack. The bodyguards paused. Noah Sterling’s face turned livid with anger. “Are you crazy?! What if you hurt the baby?!” I bit down hard on my lip. “She needs ventilation! Not your emergency resuscitation procedures!” Dr. Reed’s eye twitched. “Ignorance!” “A baby in respiratory failure will only die faster from the stimulation of cold air!” The baby’s voice in my arms was weak and intermittent. “Don’t listen to his bullsht… What I’m most afraid of right now is that woman’s smell…” I desperately held the door open, sweat pouring down my forehead. Just then, a deep, hoarse voice came from nearby. “Let me see the child.” I looked back. It was Grandpa Richard Sterling. The old man stood not far away, leaning on his cane, his face looking terrible. Sarah White immediately went up to him, her face full of concern. “Grandpa Sterling, please don’t get upset; your health is important.” “This nanny has already caused Mr. Sterling to lose control; please don’t let her deceive you.” As she spoke, she raised her hand to help him. Grandpa Richard Sterling’s cane stopped, and he directly pushed her hand away. “Get lost.” Sarah White’s expression instantly froze. Grandpa Richard Sterling walked over step by step, his gaze falling on the child in my arms. “You say she’s still breathing. What’s your proof?” I licked my dry lips. “Just now, when the patio door opened a crack, her reaction changed the moment she felt the breeze.” “Just give me a little more time…” Dr. Reed quickly interrupted. “Mr. Sterling, the child currently has no autonomous breathing response, her face is bruised, and she is in critical condition.” “You can’t pin your hopes on an outsider’s wild claims!” The Sterling sons stood in a line, creating an oppressive atmosphere that made it hard to breathe. I knew that if any of them raised a hand, I was done for today. But Lily in my arms grew even weaker. “I’m so sleepy…” “Don’t let her get close to me…” I looked up and saw Sarah White had somehow approached a few more steps. Her face still held that pitiful, innocent look. “Chloe, you keep saying my perfume has a problem, but why don’t you show us proof?” My heart sank. Right, I had no proof. I couldn’t exactly say the baby told me herself. Sarah White saw my hesitation, a flicker of triumph in her eyes, then she covered her belly and took a gentle breath. “Besides, I’m carrying the Sterling family’s flesh and blood; I couldn’t possibly do such a thing.” “You’re so desperate to take Lily outside; who knows if you’re trying to destroy some evidence?” Dr. Reed immediately seized the opportunity. “Mr. Sterling, Grandpa Sterling, she is the one who should be investigated most thoroughly.” “The child’s problem occurred in her care; she definitely has something to hide!” Caleb Sterling, the eighth son, kicked over a nearby chair. “Enough!” “Tie her up first, then question her slowly!” Two bodyguards lunged at me again. I clutched the baby and scrambled back towards the patio, my back hitting the railing. There was nowhere left to retreat. The night wind howled in. The little one in my arms suddenly let out a very soft whimper. Though faint, my heart jumped. It’s working! My eyes welled up, and I almost screamed. “She reacted just now! Didn’t you hear it?!” Everyone looked at me as if I were a desperate lunatic. Just as the bodyguard reached out to grab me, the doctor’s assistant, Dr. Alex Smith, who had been cowering in the corner, suddenly rushed out. He wiped sweat from his brow. “Wait!” “Just now, Lily’s fingertip… seemed to move.” Dr. Reed’s face turned deathly pale. “Dr. Smith, don’t talk nonsense!” Dr. Smith’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he forced himself to speak. “I was close, I don’t think I saw wrong.” “And infants in breathlessness or feigned death can indeed experience brief recovery under specific stimulation…” Sarah White’s face instantly went white, and she sharply interrupted. “Are you all going crazy, one by one?” “Experimenting on a month-old baby? Who will be responsible if something goes wrong?!” Mr. Sterling had been silent. Only then did he slowly raise his head, his gaze fixed on the baby’s face. “Open the door.” “Let her take the child to the patio.” Sarah White’s breath hitched. “Mr. Sterling…” Mr. Sterling glared at her. “I said, open the door.” The patio door was fully pushed open. The moment the cold wind swept in, Lily in my arms suddenly gave a very soft gasp. The next second, a hoarse, broken cry came from Evelyn Sterling’s direction. “Let me see my daughter…”

Evelyn Sterling was helped by a maid, stumbling out. Her face was streaked with tears, her hair disheveled, completely disregarding her appearance, she lunged forward, wanting to touch the baby. I instinctively moved a step sideways with the baby. At this slight movement, Evelyn froze. Sarah White, however, seemed to seize the opportunity and immediately stepped forward to support her. “Evelyn, don’t worry, the child is already—” Slap! Before she could finish, Evelyn raised her hand and delivered a sharp slap. Sarah White’s head snapped sideways, and half her face quickly swelled and reddened. Evelyn was trembling all over, her voice cracking. “Get away from me!” “You are not allowed to touch my daughter!” Sarah White covered her face, tears instantly streaming down. “Evelyn, I’m just worried about you…” Evelyn ignored her completely, her bloodshot eyes fixed on me. “You just said she wasn’t gone, but was harmed and stopped breathing?” “Yes.” Dr. Reed still tried to step forward. “Evelyn, don’t let her mislead you…” Evelyn sharply turned, grabbed a vase from a nearby table, and smashed it bang! at his feet. Shards scattered. “My daughter is in this state, and you’re still telling me who to listen to?” “If she still has a breath in her, anyone who dares to stop me, I’ll make them pay with their life!” The Sterling sons all froze. Sarah White’s face was extremely grim, but she still tried to speak again. “But Evelyn—” Grandpa Richard Sterling’s cane thumped heavily on the ground. “Silence!” The old man’s chest heaved violently, his eyes completely bloodshot. “No one is to stop her today.” “But you remember this: if you’re playing games with me, you’ll join my granddaughter in the grave.” I nodded heavily at Evelyn and Grandpa Richard Sterling, then quickly rushed to the patio with the baby, placed her on a wicker chair, and unfastened her swaddle. Dr. Alex Smith also followed, his forehead beaded with sweat. “Loosen her clothes, don’t cover her chest.” “First, check for chest rise and fall!” I did as he said, my hands trembling violently. The baby’s voice in my head grew weaker and weaker. “Faster… faster…” Tears suddenly welled up in my eyes. “Don’t fall asleep!” Dr.Smith’s hands trembled with urgency, and he immediately began emergency stimulation. “Pat her feet lightly!” “Then feel her neck for a very faint pulse!” Nothing. There was nothing. Sarah White stood not far away, covering her face, a sinister glint slowly surfacing in her eyes. “Mr. Sterling, isn’t that enough?” “If we keep tormenting her like this, Lily won’t even have her final dignity.” Mr. Sterling clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking, but he said nothing. Dr. Smith’s face grew paler and paler. “It’s… it’s completely over…” I slumped to the ground, mumbling. Dr. Smith checked Lily’s chest, his eyes dimming, even his lips trembling. Sarah White subtly let out a breath, as if she had finally waited for this moment, and raised her hand to call the bodyguards. “Take her—” Dr. Smith suddenly shuddered. Then he abruptly looked up, and shrieked. “Wait! Lily… she moved!”

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To come back home and marry me, Hayden Cross spent four whole years stationed at an overseas peacekeeping base. Everyone knew Hayden would lay down his life for Vivian Sterling. In his first year, just to secure a priority slot to return home, he charged single-handedly into a war zone to rescue hostages. He came back with not a single inch of his body unscathed, but he clutched that application form like his life depended on it. In his second year, to retrieve a lost engagement ring in the jungle, he waded through a swamp for three days and three nights. Even burning up at 104 degrees, he was still calling out my name. In his third year, to earn merit, he patrolled the most dangerous border line for six straight months. When he came back, both his hands were so badly frostbitten that the flesh was raw and bloody—he nearly had to have them amputated. I had always believed he wanted to marry me more than anyone else in the world. I was carrying handmade leather candy I’d brought all the way from New York. It was Hayden’s favorite flavor. Because of the long journey, I’d been holding it carefully against my chest the whole way, terrified that even a single piece would break. “Captain Cross, the documents from headquarters have arrived.” The communications room door was ajar, and the fax machine was screeching, spitting out a red-stamped document. My hand, just about to push the door open, froze midair. Through that narrow gap, I saw Hayden with his back to me, staring at the document he’d just received. On it, four glaringly red characters were stamped: 【APPROVED FOR RETURN】. In that instant, I almost cried out loud. After 1,800 days and nights of waiting, I had finally lived to see his return. But in the next second, what Hayden did made my entire body feel like it had plunged into an ice cave. His long fingers slowly and deliberately picked up a pen, and stroke by stroke, he added a single word in front of those four red characters. 【NOT】. The red “Approved” became a black “Not Approved.” His hand was steady, the sound of the pen tip gliding across the paper was so soft—yet it shattered my five years into pieces. “Captain Cross, this is the fifth time.” The deputy captain’s voice rose, thick with confusion. “Miss Sterling has waited five years at home for you. The higher-ups finally approved it this time. Why are you turning it down again with your own hand?” Hayden set down the pen, his voice carrying a coldness that chilled me to my bones: “Vivian has a steady personality and is easy to console. She has her parents in New York to take care of her. Her life is stable. Waiting another year won’t matter.” “But Lily can’t.” He paused, his tone carrying a tenderness and helplessness I’d never heard before. “Lily has been serving as my accompanying medic these past five years. She got all her injuries trying to save me. She has severe post-war trauma. The moment I leave, she’ll self-harm from the shock.” “Lily said the day I go home to get married will be the day she ends her life. I owe her five years of companionship. I have to repay it.” I gripped the box of pastries against my chest, my fingertips turning white from the force. So all this talk of relentless gunfire and overwhelming missions for five years—it had all been lies he told to protect another woman. When he was in military academy, Lily Hartman had already been his personal assistant. They had risked their lives together on this land for five years. Meanwhile, I’d waited in New York like an idiot for five years because of his “military orders are absolute.” Just last month, he had even said in a video call: “Vivian, when I come back, we’ll have the wedding.” Liar. Hayden Cross, you are nothing but a liar.

“What about Miss Sterling? What about her five years of waiting? Aren’t you afraid of breaking her heart by treating her like this?” The deputy captain’s tone carried a hint of accusation. Hayden was silent for a long time. So long that I thought he might feel even a sliver of guilt. Then he suddenly stood up and crisply unbuttoned his uniform. He took the tactical belt down from the wall, his voice calm: “That’s why I’ll never let her find out the truth. Tonight, I’ll run a hundred laps around the field carrying sixty-six pounds of weight. I won’t stop until I finish. These hundred laps will be my atonement to her.” In tropical heat, running a hundred laps carrying sixty-six pounds—that was torturing himself to the edge of death. I stood outside the door, listening to his heavy footsteps echoing on the scorching rubber track. “Thump, thump…” Each sound felt like a slap across my face. If this had been the old me, I would have rushed over crying to stop him, would have stayed up all night applying cold compresses out of heartbreak. I remembered two years ago, when he said in a video call that he’d been slightly injured, I sobbed uncontrollably. Across the screen, his eyes were as gentle as water: “Vivian, don’t cry. Every tear you shed shatters me here once more.” But now, I just stared numbly as he ran beneath the night sky. He was using this self-harming form of penance to kidnap my guilt. He’d cover himself in wounds to make me ache for him, to make me afraid to push. These hundred laps weren’t to marry me. They were the psychological currency he paid so he could stay by Lily’s side with a clear conscience. I turned around and threw the box of pastries I had carried across three thousand miles directly into the base’s incinerator. It was his favorite New York leather candy, made by an old craftsman I had searched high and low to find. Now, in the flames, it slowly melted into black charcoal. Due to wartime communication restrictions, I could only use the satellite phone in the communications room to call back home to Brookhaven. The call connected, and my mother’s gentle voice came through. “Vivian, did you see Hayden? Is he still not coming home this year?” Mom sighed, her voice full of heartache. “I’ve said it all along—if a man truly wants to marry you, he can do it even if the sky falls down. You’ve wasted five years of your youth in New York. Are you really going to keep waiting?” I listened to Hayden’s silhouette running on the field outside the window. “Vivian, listen to Mom. Come home.” “Do you still remember Trevor Bennett? He was transferred back to Brookhaven last year as Deputy Director. He’s been waiting for you. He said as long as you’re willing to come back, the Bennett family can hold the wedding anytime. Mom just doesn’t want to watch you debase yourself any longer.” Six years ago, for Hayden’s sake, I had rejected a stable life and rejected my childhood sweetheart Trevor Bennett. “Mom,” I spoke, my voice without a single ripple. She paused on the other end: “Vivian?” I looked at the blood-red sunset on the horizon, and the last flicker of fire in my heart went out. “I’m not waiting anymore. I’ll come back to Brookhaven tomorrow and marry Trevor Bennett.” After hanging up, I didn’t go find Hayden to make a scene. I went back to the family reception room and began packing all my things. His uniform hung on the wall; a photo of us sat on the table. In the photo, he had his arm around my shoulder, smiling with such devotion. I dug out the medal he had sent home last year. He’d said he’d earned it with his life and that it would be our token of love. Now, the medal glinted coldly under the lamplight, like a resounding slap. I dropped it into the toilet and pressed the flush. It disappeared without a trace.

Because of last night’s weighted run, Hayden had collapsed right there on the field. When I walked into the base infirmary, Hayden was lying on the hospital bed, eyes closed, hooked up to an IV. Lily, dressed in a white coat, was sitting beside the bed, gently dabbing his cracked lips with a water-soaked cotton swab. Her movements were tender. “Captain Cross is just too stupid,” Lily said without lifting her head, her voice low. “He pushes himself this hard every time just to get back to New York sooner to marry that Miss Sterling. But doesn’t he think? With all these injuries, who’s going to take care of him when he gets back?” I stood at the door watching this scene, my heart constricting like it was being squeezed by a steel wire. I could barely breathe. Once upon a time, Hayden had taken care of me like this too. The year I caught a cold that turned into pneumonia, he ran three blocks through a blizzard just to buy me the pear soup I’d craved. When he came back, his eyebrows were caked with ice. While blowing on the soup to cool it, he coaxed me in a soft, heartbroken voice: “Vivian, good girl. Drink this and it’ll stop hurting. From now on, I’ll watch over you. I’ll never let you get sick again, not for the rest of your life.” Now, that same tenderness, he was giving to someone else. Hearing the noise, Lily turned her head. Seeing it was me, a flash of panic darted across her eyes. “Miss Sterling? When did you get here?” She jolted to her feet, the water cup in her hand crashing to the floor. Hayden startled awake. He opened his eyes, and the instant he saw me, his pupils contracted sharply. “Vivian… why are you here?” His voice was hoarse, and he instinctively tried to sit up, but the movement pulled at the wounds on his back, making him break out in a cold sweat from the pain. “I heard you self-harmed again to marry me, so I came to see,” I said calmly, walking to the bedside, my gaze sweeping over his blistered hands. “Hayden, I almost believed it.” Hayden’s face stiffened for a moment, then he looked urgently at Lily: “Lily, step outside first. Vivian and I have things to discuss.” Lily bit her lip, her eyes rimmed red: “Your wounds haven’t been re-dressed…” “Out!” Hayden’s tone hardened. Only then did Lily leave, glancing back every few steps. Just before stepping out, she deliberately adjusted the work badge on her chest. I saw it clearly—it was the position of Chief Accompanying Medic for the peacekeeping base. A position that should have belonged to the specialist sent from headquarters. So Hayden had used his authority to forcibly keep Lily by his side for five full years. “Vivian, listen to me.” Hayden grabbed my hand desperately. “Last night I just felt guilty, felt I’d let you down, so I wanted to burn off some energy. Lily is just the doctor here. There’s really nothing between us…” “Nothing?” I looked down at him, my eyes filled with nothing but cold mockery. “Hayden, you dared to reject the return-home marriage approval with your own hand. What am I really to you?” Hayden’s breath suddenly stopped, panic flooding his eyes: “You… you saw?”

“Saw what?” I tilted my head and gave a pretend-confused smile. “Saw you personally write an application for a one-year extension? Or saw you putting on this whole martyr act for atonement?” Hayden’s face turned from white to green. “Vivian, let me explain. Lily really is very ill. She can’t survive without me…” “Enough.” I cut him off, exhausted beyond measure. “I don’t want to hear a single word of your explanation. If you love her so much, then keep staying to be with her. One year, nine years, even a lifetime—do whatever you want.” I shook off his hand and turned to walk out of the infirmary. Behind me, Hayden was still frantically calling out my name, but I didn’t stop. Walking out of the infirmary, the sunlight stabbed at my eyes. I pulled out my phone and dialed my mother. “Mom, please contact the Bennetts. Tell Trevor I’ll be back in Brookhaven the day after tomorrow. If he’s willing, we’ll go register the marriage the first day we meet.” My mother was stunned for a long while on the other end, then answered with a trembling voice: “Okay… okay! Mom will arrange it right now! Vivian, I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. Mom will wait for you in Brookhaven.” I returned to the temporary guest house. This room was filled with old keepsakes I had collected for him over five years. Every letter he had written me had pressed dried flowers I loved stuck to the envelope. Every medal he’d given me, I had carefully wrapped in red velvet boxes. There were also stubs from every plane ticket from when I’d flown across the world to see him. I once thought these were proof of love. Now I saw them as evidence of my own stupidity. I found a huge trash bag and started clearing them out one by one. The medals went into the trash bag. Those memory-filled photos, I crumpled into balls and threw away. I saw the fountain pen he had once given me. I remembered him saying: “When we get married, I’ll use this pen to sign my name on our marriage certificate.” I gave a cold laugh, grabbed the pen, and snapped it hard against the corner of the desk. The expensive barrel cracked open, ink splattering across my hand. I threw away the last thing belonging to Hayden. The room became empty—just like my heart. Just then, hurried footsteps came from outside the door. Lily pushed the door open, her eyes triumphant. “Hayden has already submitted another stay application for me. In this war zone, no one can replace my position—and no one can replace his place in my heart.” She walked up to me, her tone full of venomous provocation: “What does waiting five years matter? The person who’s slept beside him for five years is me. The person who survived death with him is me. You’re just a joke living in a fantasy.” I looked at her and felt that she was pitiful. She thought she’d won. What she had schemed so hard to steal was a piece of garbage I didn’t even want. “Lily.” I looked at her calmly, even revealing a genuine smile. “Congratulations. I don’t want this piece of trash anymore. I hope you can guard him for the rest of your life.” The smile froze on Lily’s face. I picked up my light suitcase and walked right past her, out the door. “Tell Hayden for me—ninety-nine laps is too few. What he owes me, he can’t repay even in this lifetime. But it’s okay. I’m generous. I’m giving him to you two.”

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When Eliot returned to the villa after his late department lecture, I placed his favorite truffle pasta on the table. I wanted to tell him that my mother had finally relented and agreed to our marriage. Instead, he tossed his car keys onto the table and wearily tugged at his tie, “I married my young Omega yesterday.” “What?” My fork paused mid-air. “Lila, the grad student I’m supervising, is pregnant with my child. She asked me to give her the status of my Luna.” “So, I went and registered our marriage with her yesterday afternoon.” My voice trembled uncontrollably: “Then what about these eight years I dedicated to you?” Eliot looked up at me, a slight smirk on his lips. “If you’re willing, we can still be family. You’ll always be the person I trust most.” I didn’t cry. I simply picked up that steaming bowl of truffle pasta, walked to the kitchen, and poured it into the trash can. Eliot frowned, his Alpha aura instinctively intensifying. “Seren, I hate it when you’re silently accusing.” “I’m already exhausted today, can’t you be more understanding?” I turned to face him, deliberately ignoring the oppressive feeling. “When did you register?” He rubbed his temples, speaking calmly: “Yesterday afternoon. Lila didn’t have classes, and the Elder Council was less busy, so we just went along.” “Just went along.” Yesterday afternoon, I was with my mother at the medical center for her check-up. She lay on the hospital bed, clutching my hand, saying: “Seren, I’ve thought it through. If you truly want Eliot, then get married. Even though he comes from an ordinary background, he’s looked out for us all these years.” I almost teared up then, quickly texting Eliot: “Mom agreed to our marriage, I’ve already booked the wedding for next week.” He didn’t reply. Turns out, he had already registered his marriage with another woman. I asked, “Does she know about me?” Eliot was silent for two seconds. “She knows, but she doesn’t mind. She’s young, insecure, and I wanted to give her a proper title, to let her stand proudly by my side.” Hearing his words, I felt my wolf inside me howling madly. “I’ve been with you for eight years, helped you handle the dissent within the Pack, supported you in becoming the Alpha, All these years, what have I been to you?” Eliot looked up at me, his eyes showing his usual arrogance. “Seren, you weren’t at a disadvantage either these past eight years.” “And even if I have a Luna, I’ll still give you some compensation. You can continue to live in this villa, and I’ll continue to provide you with academic resources. Surely, you’re satisfied with that?” I finally understood. His so-called compensation was to let me live in his villa, clean his house, and help him organize his research materials. My identity would just shift from a partner of eight years to his and Lila’s free housekeeper. I went into the bedroom to pack my things, and my hand stopped when I opened the closet. A row of unfamiliar girl’s clothes had appeared inside. Pink knitwear, lace-trimmed dresses, and a pile of erotic lingerie. I picked one up and asked him, “Is she moving in?” Eliot stood in the doorway, his tall figure blocking the hallway light. “Lila can’t sleep alone in the dorm, so she’ll sleep in your master bedroom from now on. You can stay in the guest room for now.” I took off the engagement ring he had given me and placed it on the table. It was a silver ring he bought the year he first became Alpha, with our initials engraved on the inside of the band. He said that once things in the Pack settled down, he’d replace it with a bigger, shinier diamond ring. Later, when his power was stable, he said he’d marry me after securing the key research project. But now, he already had another Omega. I pulled out my suitcase, ready to leave. Eliot suddenly panicked. He hugged me from behind, the familiar scent of cedarwood enveloping me. “Seren, I don’t want to lose you. I’m just settling Lila in first, she’s a child and can’t be without me. You’re different; you’re mature, steady. You don’t need me to protect you every second.” Held by him, I only felt a wave of physiological nausea. The doorbell rang. Lila stood at the door, wearing a man’s cashmere coat. I had waited in line for three hours to buy that for Eliot last winter. “Eliot, I’m here to pick up our marriage certificate.” Then, she looked at me and smiled, revealing her sharp little canines: “Seren, you’re here too.” I didn’t speak. She walked into the bedroom as if she owned the place, pulling open the drawer of my bedside table. The marriage certificate was pressed under an old photo album. On top of the album, there was also a letter. A letter my mother had written to Eliot. She had just finished it yesterday and asked me to pass it on. The first line of the letter read: “Alpha Eliot, I entrust Seren to you from now on. May you protect her life’s peace and stability, and guard the White Pack well.” Lila picked up the letter, blinking. “Is this from your mother to both of you? Oh, I’m sorry, should I not be looking?” I reached out to take it. But Eliot snatched it away first. A corner of the letter was torn. Watching him shield Lila, I suddenly felt he was a complete stranger.

I forcibly snatched the letter back. Lila cowered behind Eliot, her shoulders trembling slightly, as if she were frightened. Eliot soothed Lila, then turned to face me, his expression darkening instantly. “Seren, you’re emotionally unstable right now. Don’t go to the faculty tomorrow, and don’t participate in the full professorship tenure review meeting either.” I looked at him. “I’m an associate professor in the biology department. The full professorship review is decided by the University Academic Committee, it’s not under your authority as department head. Furthermore, this is White Pack territory. You don’t have the authority to ground me.” Lila’s tears started to fall immediately, her voice soft and trembling. “Seren, I really didn’t mean to steal your things. I just love Eliot too much; I couldn’t control myself.” I laughed out loud. “Well, you certainly know how to love, loving enough to steal someone else’s mate.” Eliot lowered his voice, a warning in his tone. “Don’t be so harsh. We’re all members of the White Pack; if word gets out, other Packs will laugh at us.” My phone rang. It was the Pack’s medical center. “Seren, your mother has suddenly shown early signs of organ failure, and her blood pressure is unstable. Please come immediately.” I grabbed my bag and left. Eliot subconsciously followed. A flicker of warmth unexpectedly bloomed in my heart; Eliot wasn’t completely heartless after all. And as the Alpha of the White Pack, he had the power to mobilize the best doctors and top-tier treatment equipment. But the next second, Lila clutched her stomach and crouched down, letting out a soft whimper. “Eliot, I’m dizzy…” “I didn’t eat last night; the baby might be unstable.” Eliot’s footsteps stopped. He glanced at me, his voice reassuring. “You take a cab there first.” “I’ll take Lila to the medical center’s obstetrics department; I’ll be there to join you soon.” I didn’t speak. As the elevator doors closed, I saw him scoop Lila into his arms, holding her carefully as if she were a priceless treasure. In the taxi, I called him three times. No answer. When I arrived at the medical center, my mother’s face was ashen, and she was already semi-conscious. The nurse pushed a risk disclosure form in front of me. “Please sign, we may need to initiate organ suppression therapy or even resuscitation immediately.” My hand trembled so much I couldn’t write my name. For eight years, Eliot always said, “From now on, your mom is my mom. White Pack’s medical resources will always prioritize her.” He said I didn’t need to be afraid, he’d handle everything at the medical center. But when this day actually came, I was still the only one waiting outside the hospital room. Outside the emergency room, I opened my phone. The first post on the White Pack forum was from Eliot. In the photo, he and Lila held up their marriage certificate, both smiling happily. The caption read: “My love, my only Luna.” The post time was when I made my third call. Below it, many faculty members liked the post. Lila replied: “Thank you, everyone. Eliot said he’s treating everyone to a big dinner tonight.” I stared at that line, my palms slowly growing cold. When my mom woke up, her first question was, “Where’s Eliot? Why didn’t he come?” I flipped my phone face down in my palm. “He’s handling urgent Pack matters and can’t get away.” A family member of the patient in the next bed, an older member of the Pack, suddenly leaned over. “Alpha Eliot got married yesterday, Seren. Why wasn’t the bride you?” “Look at the photo Alpha Eliot posted on the forum.” She handed her phone to my mother. I didn’t have time to stop her. When my mother saw the photo, her breathing suddenly became rapid, and the monitor emitted a sharp alarm. I rushed out to call the doctor. As I ran to the nurses’ station, I saw Eliot and Lila, holding hands, distributing wedding favors to several familiar medical staff. He had brought Lila for her prenatal check-up and casually announced their marriage to acquaintances in the Pack. Someone joked, “Alpha Eliot, you kept that quiet! You already have a child so soon?” Lila blushed and leaned against him. Eliot saw me and frowned slightly. “Why aren’t you in the room looking after your mother? Don’t you know she’s not well? How can you be casually strolling around outside?” I threw my mother’s critical condition notice in his face. “Eliot, how dare you say such a thing?” “My mother just had an attack after seeing your post on the forum.” The medical center lobby instantly fell silent. Lila’s tears started again. She softly said, “Seren, don’t blame Eliot. It’s my fault; I insisted he post it on the forum.” Eliot shielded her, his voice filled with anger. “This is the White Pack’s medical center. Do you have to cause a scene here and let other Pack members laugh at us?” I looked at the box of wedding favors still in his hand, and suddenly found it all very laughable.

“How can you blame me?” “Didn’t you insist on making your marriage known to everyone?” No one in the lobby spoke. Lila leaned behind Eliot, softly sobbing. Eliot lowered his voice. “Seren, don’t disrupt the medical center’s order, and don’t jeopardize your own full professorship review. Don’t forget, your mother’s treatment plan still needs my signature and approval.” “You’re the one disrupting the order.” “My mom is in the emergency room, and you’re here celebrating your marriage.” Someone bowed their head, pretending to sort through patient files. Lila suddenly covered her mouth and made retching sounds. “I want to throw up…” The Pack members nearby immediately started to tease. “Already having symptoms after just getting married? Alpha Eliot, you’re quite something!” Eliot’s expression changed, and he immediately supported Lila. “Let’s go for a blood test first to check the baby’s condition.” My mom was still in the emergency room. But he stayed by Lila’s side, not leaving her for a second, as she went to get blood drawn. I stood at the lab window, watching him carefully label the blood collection vials himself, his actions painstakingly precise. Lila touched her stomach, smiling down. “I hope the baby grows up healthy.” Eliot said in front of everyone: “Once the baby is stable, I’ll give you a proper home and the most lavish wedding.” I thought those words had nothing to do with me. Until that evening, when I returned to the Pack’s Alpha residence and saw an agreement on the table. “Villa Residency Arrangement Agreement.” It stated: “To facilitate Lila’s pregnancy, Seren voluntarily moves out of the master bedroom into the guest room and provides unpaid assistance with Lila’s academic and Pack-related living affairs.” I held the paper and laughed for a long time. This villa was left by my father; it was the White Pack Alpha’s exclusive territory. Eight years ago, when I supported Eliot’s ascent, I voluntarily transferred ownership of the villa to him. I paid for the renovations, and I’ve been paying all the property management and maintenance fees all these years. Now he was making things very clear. The master bedroom for Lila. I had to give up the Luna title, and now even my bed. I asked, “What does this agreement mean?” Eliot sat on the sofa, fidgeting with the Alpha’s crest ring. “Lila is pregnant, and the master bedroom gets good sunlight, suitable for pregnancy. Plus, it’s close to my study, so I can easily look after her.” I spread the agreement in front of him. “This is my father’s villa.” “What about everything I’ve contributed to the Pack all these years?” He frowned. “It’s an eight-year relationship, don’t make it sound so ugly. We’re all White Pack members; why be so meticulous?” Lila came out of the kitchen with water. She was wearing my apron, like a real mistress of the house. “Seren, don’t worry, I won’t stay for free.” “I’ll pay you eight hundred dollars a month, okay? Just as rent.” I almost laughed out of anger. “Eight hundred?” “Are you kidding me?” I picked up the agreement and tore it to shreds. Eliot suddenly grabbed my wrist, his grip astonishingly strong; I couldn’t break free. “If you continue like this, I’ll have no choice but to transfer your mother to the general treatment ward.” I looked up at him. “The schedule for organ suppression therapy doesn’t necessarily require my signature. The medical center’s top physicians only follow the Alpha’s orders. Also, the department’s recommendation for your full professorship review was written by me.” Lila suddenly stopped crying, standing behind Eliot, looking at me triumphantly. I slowly pulled my hand away. “Eliot, are you threatening me with my mother’s life and my future?” He avoided my gaze. “I just want you to calm down. Don’t escalate this to the Elder Council; it won’t be good for anyone.” I nodded. “Okay.” “I’ll make you regret it.”

The next day, I went to the department as usual. The first thing I did in my office was to export all evidence of my support for Eliot’s ascent to Alpha over the years. This included the votes I secured for him when he ran for Alpha, the chat logs of me handling the Pack’s opposition, proof of my financial contribution to the villa, and records of my mother’s medical information being managed by him. I uploaded each file to the cloud, making encrypted backups. Eliot sent me a message. “Don’t make a big fuss. Let’s talk tonight at home. I’ll make Lila apologize to you.” I didn’t reply. At ten in the morning, Lila came to my lab. She handed me an experimental data report for her graduation thesis. “Seren, this is my thesis data. Can you fast-track the review for me? The defense is next week.” The students in the lab instantly fell silent. I said according to procedure, “Get your supervisor’s signature, follow the department’s normal review process, and queue up.” Lila’s eyes welled up. “Seren, are you still mad at me? I really know I was wrong.” I handed the report back. “This is a lab, not your living room. Follow the rules.” She bit her lip and left. To avoid any appearance of impropriety, I personally handed her report to the department secretary, ensuring every step was logged. The review results came out at noon. All her experimental data was fabricated! Lila’s face changed instantly when she received the results. Half an hour later, news came from the department. Lila had fallen in the lab, bleeding from her lower body, possibly a miscarriage. A little while later, Lila appeared at the lab door, holding her stomach, supported by a classmate. “Seren, you can hate me. But the child is innocent.” The students’ gazes at me changed. The Dean also rushed over. “Seren, please suspend your work and cooperate with the joint investigation by the university and the Elder Council.” I said, “Check the lab surveillance, the data audit logs, all operations are traceable.” Eliot interrupted me. “Lila fell and miscarried because you provoked her. You knew she was pregnant, yet you deliberately made things difficult for her and rejected her thesis.” I looked at him: “How can someone who isn’t even pregnant have a miscarriage?” Lila cried, trembling all over. Eliot threw a stack of documents in front of me. The papers scattered. It was my mother’s supplementary payment notice for organ suppression therapy. And an application to adjust her treatment ward. He looked at me coldly, “Kneel down and apologize to Lila right now. I guarantee your mom will still have access to top-tier treatment tonight, and I’ll still write you a recommendation for your full professorship review.” Everyone in the lab was looking at me. My full professorship. My mom’s life. My eight years of dedication. All pressured into one apology. I bent down to pick up the documents. At the bottom was one of Lila’s medical reports. It read: “No signs of pregnancy, no fetus present.” I looked up at Eliot. Panic finally appeared on his face. Lila screamed, “That’s not mine! It’s my classmate’s!” The next second, the Dean’s office door was pushed open. Representatives from the University Academic Committee and the Elder Council stood at the entrance. “Associate Professor Seren, you are suspected of academic suppression, fabricating experimental data, and causing a student’s miscarriage. Please immediately accept a suspension for investigation.”

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When I went to replace my bank card, the teller casually mentioned that I had a quarterly patent income of $300,000 under my name. But as the patent inventor, I had never seen a single cent of it. Following the account trail, I discovered that over five years, my wife, Trent, had not only secretly transferred over $5.5 million in patent fees that rightfully belonged to me, but she had also been supporting a lover behind my back. When I confronted her, she looked at me with utter contempt: “What can you do besides tinker with tech?” Even her lover showed up at my door, tossing a check at me. “$50,000, stay away from Trent.” I looked at the despicable pair in front of me and suddenly smiled. They thought I was a pushover, a useless academic they could easily manipulate. They had no idea that everything they possessed was originally mine. It was 2 PM, and I stood at the bank counter, reporting my old card lost. I’d lost the card last week but hadn’t gotten around to replacing it. The teller took my ID, checked the system, and suddenly paused. “Sir, you have a regular deposit of patent licensing fees under your name. Would you like to link it to your new card?” I froze. “What patent licensing fees?” She turned the screen to show me. I squinted for three seconds, and my mind exploded. The screen clearly displayed: A regular quarterly deposit of $300,000, into a bank card under my name that I’d never seen before. The deposit history began five years ago and continued until now. Five years, twenty quarters, $6 million. My fingers began to tremble. I remembered five years ago, I was burning the midnight oil in the lab, tirelessly doing R&D. My wife, Trent, came to me with a stack of documents, asking me to sign. She said it was for registering a company, just going through the procedures, and needed my signature as a “tech partner.” I was so busy back then, I didn’t even lift my head. I just grabbed the pen and signed. She smiled and said, “Ethan, you just focus on your tech. I’ll handle the business side of things. You’re a tech guy; you don’t get business.” From then on, I was sidelined, becoming a nominal consultant. She never discussed company matters with me. Every time I asked, she’d say, “Don’t worry about it, it’s barely anything.” And now, this card received $300,000 every quarter. So, this was what she meant by “barely anything.” I took a deep breath. My hands stopped shaking. My mind had never been clearer. “Link it to my new card.” My voice was so calm it surprised even me. “From now on, every deposit should be transferred directly to my personal account.” She glanced at me, didn’t ask any more questions, and began the process. Five minutes later, the transaction was complete. At 7 PM, I returned home. The house was empty. Trent was still away on a business trip. She had gotten increasingly busy these past two years, traveling internationally at least once a month, saying she was “negotiating deals, meeting clients.” I used to believe her. Now, thinking back, what was she really busy with? I walked into her study and opened her computer. I tried the password three times; it was her birthday. I logged into her email and started sifting through her correspondence. The more I read, the colder my hands grew. Over the past five years, the company had signed seven patent licensing agreements. Every single agreement licensed my patents. And in the signature field, it was Trent’s name, every single time. My patents, my technology, she took them to sell for profit. Yet, she only gave me $1,000 a month for “living expenses,” claiming, “the company’s not doing well, we need to be careful with money.” A thousand dollars. I kept scrolling, finding a contact named “Kevin.” The email exchanges started two years ago. The content slowly shifted from “pleasant to work with” to “miss you,” “can’t wait for you to come back.” There were also a few photos. Trent was leaning against a man in a suit, smiling brightly, with the Eiffel Tower in the background. That was last year, when she said she was “going to France for an industry summit.” I stared at the photos, my knuckles turning white. Five years. She had lied to me for five years. I shut the laptop, leaning back in the chair, as the night deepened outside the window.

At 2 AM, the doorbell rang. Someone was frantically ringing the bell and pounding on the door. I rose from the sofa, walked slowly and deliberately to the door, and opened it. Trent stood outside, her hair disheveled, eyes red, dragging a suitcase, breathless. She had clearly taken a cab straight from the airport. “Ethan… Ethan, have you lost your mind?!” She stormed in, grabbing my collar. “Why did you touch that card?! Do you even know what you’re doing?!” I looked down at her hand clutching my collar and smiled. “Trent, I was just about to ask you, what kind of money is on that card?” She paused, her eyes flickering. “That’s… that’s the company’s operating capital! If you mess with it, there will be huge problems!” “Company’s operating capital?” I pushed her hand away, my voice calm. “A quarterly patent licensing fee of $300,000 is the company’s operating capital?” Trent’s face changed. “You… how did you know?” “I also know that you and Kevin were managing those patent fees for me, right?” She took a step back, her expression flustered, but quickly regained her composure. She looked at me, slowly sat on the sofa, and lit a cigarette. I had never seen her smoke before. “You went through my emails?” she asked. “Yep.” She exhaled a puff of smoke and smiled. It wasn’t a guilty smile, but a relieved one. “Good.” She leaned back against the sofa, looking at me, her eyes devoid of guilt, only a strange frankness. “Ethan, what do you want to know?” “I’ll tell you.” “Kevin isn’t just a client. We’ve been together for two years.” She tapped the ash from her cigarette, her tone as flat as if she were commenting on the weather. “You didn’t know anything for these past five years, and you seemed quite happy, didn’t you?” I clenched my fist, my knuckles turning white. She glanced at me and stubbed out her cigarette. “So stop making trouble.” “It’s useless for you to link that card back. The patent licensing agreement has the company’s seal on it, not your personal one.” “You won’t get it back that easily.” She stood up, patting down her dress. “You’re just a techie; you don’t get business, and you certainly can’t win this fight.” She dragged her suitcase into the master bedroom and shut the door. I was left alone in the living room. I stood rooted to the spot, feeling a chill run through me. She didn’t even bother lying to me anymore. The next morning, I left for work. As I reached the entrance of my apartment complex, a black Porsche pulled up to the curb. The window rolled down, and a man in sunglasses smiled at me. “You’re Ethan?” I stopped. “Who are you?” He took off his sunglasses, revealing a pair of narrow eyes. “Kevin. Kevin Matthews.” My blood rushed to my head. He leaned against the car door, sizing me up, a playful smirk on his lips. “Trent told me you made a scene yesterday. I came to check in and have a chat.” “Nothing to chat about.” I turned to leave, but he spoke calmly behind me. “Ethan, I mean no harm.” “Honestly, I admire you. Your tech work is truly excellent.” “But you know, just having technology isn’t enough.” “Your patents, without Trent’s business operations, aren’t worth a dime.” I stopped. “So?” “So, I’m here to make you an offer.” He walked up to me, pulling a check from his suit pocket. “$50,000. You cancel the new card link and stop meddling in company affairs.” He held the check out to me. I stared at that check. I barely made $15,000 a year. This was five years of my salary. But those patents had earned $6 million in five years. He was offering $50,000 to get rid of me? “No.” Kevin raised an eyebrow. “Ethan, don’t be foolish.” He took back the check and patted my shoulder. That touch sent shivers down my spine. “Go home and think about it. This offer won’t be available again.” He got into his car, the engine roared, and he sped away. I stood there, clenching my fists.

At noon, I didn’t go to work. Instead, I went to the local Intellectual Property Office. After two hours of searching, I found the crucial information. The seven patent licensing agreements listed “Trent Technologies” as the licensor. But in the patent holder section, it clearly stated: Ethan. This meant the company only had the right to operate and use the patents, but the ownership of the patents remained with me. The agreement Trent had me sign back then only “licensed” the patents for the company’s use. And there was a clause in the licensing contract: the patent holder had the right to terminate the license at any time. I hadn’t even read it when I signed it years ago. But now, this clause was my biggest trump card. If I terminated the license, all of Trent Technologies’ product lines would lose their technical foundation overnight. $1.2 million in patent fees a year? They wouldn’t get a single cent. That afternoon, I visited a law firm, finding a lawyer who specialized in intellectual property. “Adriana Hayes, what’s the process if I want to terminate a patent license?” Adriana Hayes reviewed the contract and nodded. “According to Article 11 of the contract, the patent holder can terminate the licensing agreement with sixty days’ written notice. The other party has no right of veto.” “So, I just need to send a lawyer’s letter, and sixty days later, the company can’t use my patents anymore?” “Correct.” “Good.” I drafted the lawyer’s letter, but I didn’t send it immediately. I would wait until all my chess pieces were in place before making my move. Leaving the law firm, I stopped at an electronics store. I bought a professional voice recorder, palm-sized, capable of continuous recording for seventy-two hours. Back home, I slipped it into my shirt pocket. From today on, I would record every word Trent and Kevin said. The more arrogant they were, the better it would look in court later. I didn’t make a scene. I went to work and came home as usual every day, and I didn’t even mention the new card again. She thought I’d caved. On the fifth day, she probed me, “Ethan, have you thought things through about that card?” I sat on the sofa watching TV, not even looking up. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t understand business. Why bother messing around?” She sighed in relief and smiled, sitting next to me. “That’s what you should have thought earlier. Just focus on your tech, I’ve got everything else handled.” I smiled, but said nothing. She picked up her phone and walked onto the balcony to make a call. I perked up my ears. “Mm… don’t worry, he hasn’t done anything else… Right, he’s just a naive academic; scare him a little, and he’ll back down…” Her voice drifted in intermittently with the breeze. “When are you coming back from your business trip? I miss you…” I gripped the remote control, my knuckles white, but my face showed nothing. The voice recorder in my pocket quietly did its work.

On the eighth day, my mother-in-law, Clara, arrived. Clara walked in and got straight to the point. “Ethan, Trent told me about the scene you made a while ago.” She sat opposite me at the dining table, hands clasped, her face full of impatience. “What are you unhappy about? She feeds you, she takes care of you, she never lets you worry about company matters.” “You’re just a tech guy; why are you so nosy?” I paused, a forkful of food midway to my mouth. “Mom, I was just curious; I didn’t mean anything else.” “Curious?” Clara sneered. “You signed the papers, you got what you were supposed to get. Don’t go overstepping your bounds.” Trent, sitting nearby, tried to smooth things over, smiling. “Mom, that’s enough, he gets it now.” Clara glared at me. “Good that he gets it.” She pulled a card from her purse and slapped it on the table. “This is the new allowance card Trent got you. From now on, it’s $1,400 a month. That’s $400 more than before, pretty generous, wouldn’t you say?” $1,400. My patents made $1.2 million a year, and they gave me a raise to $1,400, acting like it was a huge favor. I picked up the card and smiled. “Thank you, Mom.” Clara nodded, satisfied. “That’s more like it. A man should be grateful for what he has and not make trouble.” After dinner, Trent walked Clara downstairs. I sat at the dining table, turning the $1,400 card over and over in my hand. On the tenth day, I received a message from Adriana Hayes. “Mr. Ethan, I looked into Trent Technologies’ corporate registration filings for the past three years.” “I found that three months ago, the company added a new shareholder: Kevin, holding 25%. His capital contribution method was ‘technical investment’.” I stared at the screen, a cold laugh escaping my lips. Technical investment? Using my technology, what kind of investment was he making? They kicked me out, claimed my technology as their own, and even let my wife’s lover use my patents to gain equity. What a masterful deception. On the fifteenth day, everything was as usual. Trent came home on time every day, cooked, cleaned, and occasionally acted sweet with me. The better she acted, the more disgusted I felt, but I kept it in. Because there was one last step remaining. That afternoon, I received a call from Adriana Hayes. “Mr. Ethan, all the documents are ready. Come over, and we’ll do a final review.” I took half a day off and went to the law firm. On Adriana Hayes’s desk, a thick stack of files was spread out. “Let’s go through them.” She pointed to the first document. “First, the letter of counsel for patent license termination.” “Second, the formal complaint submitted to the court.” “Third, the divorce petition.” I looked at the three documents and took a deep breath. “And this.” I pulled the voice recorder from my pocket and placed it on the table. “Over these fifteen days, I recorded more than seventy hours of content.” “This includes Trent’s confession about her relationship with Kevin, her admission of concealing patent income, and Kevin’s own statements to me.” Adriana Hayes listened to a few key recordings, her eyebrows raising higher and higher. “Mr. Ethan, these recordings are fully admissible as evidence in court.” She closed the folder and looked at me. “Are you sure you want to leave no room for retreat?” I smiled. “Adriana Hayes, it’s been five years.” “They embezzled over $5.5 million from me, stole my technology, slept with my wife, and still think giving me $1,400 for living expenses is a huge favor.” “Even today, they still think I’m just a naive academic who can’t stir anything up.” I stood up. “Then let them see how I stir up a storm.”

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My dad died in a car accident when I was ten. Only later did I learn that the crash wasn’t an accident. The brakes had been tampered with. And the person who did it was my mom. My dad died never knowing his wife had already found another man. Less than three months after his death, she married that man, grooming their son to become his successor. She even stole my dad’s last composition, claiming it was her other son’s original work. Fifteen years later, I sat on the judging panel of an international piano competition. On stage, that “child prodigy” was playing my dad’s final piece. I pressed the stop bell. “That piece isn’t yours.” The microphone carried my voice to everyone in the hall. “I refuse to score you.” The hall erupted, camera flashes going off like a storm. Andrew’s face instantly went pale, his lips trembling as he looked at Molina in the audience. I saw Molina’s face twitch, but she didn’t react publicly. She just stared at me, a sinister glint in her eyes. The competition was halted. I left the judging panel and walked toward the backstage lounge. Before the door could close, someone pushed it open. Andrew stood in the doorway, his eyes red, his chest heaving. “How dare you?” His tone was arrogant, nothing like the “child prodigy” on stage. “How dare you interrupt me? Do you have any idea how long I prepared?” I stayed seated. “I don’t care how long you prepared. That piece isn’t yours, so I won’t score you.” “If it’s not mine, is it yours?” He sneered, growing more agitated. “I composed it myself! My mom personally guided me! Who do you think you are, saying it’s not mine?” I looked up at him. He didn’t know the true owner of the piece. He didn’t know his mother had stolen someone else’s posthumous work. And he certainly didn’t know that I was Molina’s first son. “I said it’s not, so it’s not.” My voice was calm. “The composition date, the structural logic, the harmonic progression of this piece are completely different from your usual style. Any professional judge would hear it.” “Bullshit!” he practically screamed. “You’re just jealous of me! You just want attention!” He slammed the door shut and left. I closed my eyes, my hand trembling. Not from fear, but from hatred. Fifteen years. My dad died in that “accident.” No one suspected anything, no one knew the brakes had been tampered with. But I found out. It took ten years, piecing it together, bit by bit. The old mechanic from that repair shop was still alive. He remembered someone giving that car “special maintenance” that day. The person he described looked exactly like Molina in her youth. My dad died never knowing. He didn’t know his wife had been with another man when she was pregnant. He didn’t know that man’s family wealth could elevate Molina to the top overnight. He just practiced the piano every day, composed, taught me, and eagerly awaited the concert that could change our lives. He got into that car and never came back. My phone screen lit up. A notification: Andrew’s studio released a statement, strongly condemning the judge for “maliciously disrupting the competition.” The comment section already had tens of thousands of posts. [Who’s this judge? Chasing clout, probably?] [Poor Andrew, he’s being bullied.] [Boycott this judge!] I turned off my phone. I knew this was just the beginning.

The next morning, three distinct knocks, neither too loud nor too soft, sounded at my hotel room door. I opened it, and a man stood there. In his early fifties, remarkably well-preserved, in a custom-tailored suit, a Patek Philippe on his wrist. Osmond. Molina’s husband, Andrew’s father, and the man she’d been with before she even divorced. “Judge Lewis, aren’t you going to invite me in?” He smiled politely, but there was no warmth in his eyes. I stepped aside, letting him enter. He sat on the sofa, crossed his legs, and surveyed the hotel room as if sizing up something of no value. “Judge Lewis, I’ll get straight to the point.” He took an envelope from his bag, placed it on the coffee table, and slid it toward me. I glanced down, an eight-figure sum. “That’s ten years’ worth of your judging income,” he said. “All you have to do is release a statement tomorrow, saying you misheard the piece that day and acted impulsively, and this money is yours.” “Additionally, the Conservatory will give you a visiting professor position. You won’t have to teach annually, just lend your name to the position.” I looked at him, saying nothing. He thought I was hesitating, so he added: “Judge Lewis, you’re a smart man. You should know that going against the Osmond family never ends well.” “Mr. Osmond,” I finally spoke. “The Osmond family, you say?” “My wife is an Osmond, my son is an Osmond. Is there a problem?” “And that piece?” I asked. “Are you sure it belongs to the Osmond family?” Osmond’s expression subtly changed, but he quickly regained his composure. “That piece is Andrew’s original work, and it’s copyrighted.” “Judge Lewis, if you can’t provide evidence, you’d best be careful what you say. Defamation carries legal consequences.” “Is that so?” I picked up the check, looked at it, then slowly tore it in half. Osmond’s face finally darkened. “Lewis, you’re testing my patience, aren’t you?” He stood up, looking down at me. “You think winning a few international awards means you can just waltz in here and call the shots? Let me tell you who truly runs things in this industry.” “The Osmond family?” I finished his sentence. “Glad you know.” “Then let me tell you something too,” I looked up at him. “I, Lewis, didn’t get to where I am today through anyone’s charity. You can’t touch me.” Osmond sneered. “Lewis, you’re too naive.” He picked up his bag, walked to the door, and glanced back at me. “Within three days, you’ll be crawling back to me.” The door slammed shut. I watched the door, my lips slowly flattening. Beg him? My dad never begged anyone. He didn’t even know Osmond existed. He only knew his wife suddenly became very busy during his struggling period, often not coming home. He thought she was focused on her career. He raised me alone, practicing piano, composing, teaching lessons, scrimping and saving. He never complained once. When he died, his bag still held a family photo. On the back, it read: “When Lewis grows up, we’ll go to Vienna together.” I took an archive folder from the drawer. Inside were the pieces of evidence I’d collected over the years. The mechanic’s recorded statement. Molina’s transfer records for purchasing brake fluid that year, through an intermediary, but the money trail eventually led back to her private account. And the original manuscript of the piece. My dad wrote it in an old notebook, the date clearly marked: three months before the accident. What he took with him that day was a clean copy. The original was safe at Grandpa Arthur’s. Molina didn’t know; she thought it was all destroyed. She didn’t know my dad had a backup. I turned to the last page of the manuscript. A line of small lettering read: “To my son, Lewis. I couldn’t be there to watch you grow, but I’ve left you my best music.” My fingers gently traced the words. Dad, rest assured. I won’t let anyone steal your music.

On the third day, Molina herself arrived. She didn’t knock; the hotel manager used a master key to open the door for her. She wore a sharply tailored business suit, her hair impeccably styled, her entire presence exuding “successful woman.” She stood in the doorway, looking at me as if I were a naive insect. “Lewis, let’s talk.” I sat by the window, not moving. She walked in, closed the door, and sat opposite me. “You know who I am, right?” “I do,” I said. “Molina, Dean of the Conservatory, renowned pianist.” “And what else?” “Andrew’s mother.” She nodded, crossed her legs, her tone like she was lecturing a junior. “Lewis, you interrupted my son during the competition and claimed that piece wasn’t his. Do you know what that kind of behavior is called?” “Upholding my principles,” I said. She smiled, a cold smile. “It’s called courting disaster.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I won’t beat around the bush. I don’t care if you have any evidence. But I’ve already looked into you.” She pulled out her phone and swiped a few times: “Your agent’s name is Collins, right? Your contract with him has three years left.” “His wife’s company happens to have a favor to ask of me. One word from me, and he’ll drop you.” “Your mentor, Professor Johnson, is seventy this year, not in the best health, and applying for a Lifetime Achievement Award.” “My committee decides who gets that award.” “And your next performance – your recital at the Vienna Concert Hall next month.” “The organizers are old friends of mine. If I tell them to cancel it, they won’t dare refuse.” She listed them one by one, her tone flat, as if reading a menu. “Lewis, I just have to lift a finger, and I can make you completely disappear from this industry.” “Do you believe me?” I looked into her eyes. This woman’s ruthlessness wasn’t an overt aggression, but a deep-seated contempt. She felt crushing me was like crushing an insect. “Dean Molina, are you finished?” I asked. Her brows furrowed slightly. “I’m telling you all this because Andrew is my son. If you touch him, you touch me.” “I’m giving you one last chance. At tomorrow’s press conference, you will publicly apologize.” “You’ll say you misheard the piece, that it was an impulsive act. Then, you’ll voluntarily resign from your judging position.” “What if I don’t?” She stood up, looking down at me. “Then you won’t have a place in this industry anymore.” “You think winning a few international awards makes you secure?” She scoffed. “Lewis, in this industry, there are more ways to make someone disappear than you can imagine.” “Molina,” I addressed her directly. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell the truth?” “The truth?” She laughed, a dismissive laugh. “With what? A few flimsy papers? A recording?” “You think those things can make any real waves?” She turned and walked toward the door, not looking back. “Tomorrow at 3 PM, Seattle Grand Hotel. Come or not, it’s your decision.” “However – if you don’t come, face the consequences.” The door slammed shut. I sat alone in the room, my hand trembling for a long time. Not from fear, but from hatred. Fifteen years. She stole my dad’s music, killed my dad, and propelled her other son to fame. Now, she was going to use my career, my mentor, my agent, to force me to bow down. She didn’t know who I was. When she abandoned me, I was already ten years old. Yet she didn’t even find me familiar. She didn’t recognize that the young man before her was the son she had with her first husband. But tomorrow, she would know.

After packing my things, I opened my phone. It was flooded with hate comments and criticisms. #Lewis Get Out Of Music# topped the trending list, with over 300 million views. The top Ins post was from a music critic with a million followers: “A judge like Lewis, utterly unprofessional, is a disgrace to the entire industry.” “Maliciously interrupting a performer to grab headlines, ruining a child prodigy’s future.” “I recommend all concert halls, agencies, and conservatories to collectively boycott him.” The comments below were all in agreement. [This kind of person dares to be a judge? How well-connected is he?] [I heard he has no background, just slept his way to the top.] [I always thought his competitions were rigged.] [Support Andrew! Support Dean Molina!] My agency released a statement. Not supporting me, but “suspending all collaboration with Mr. Lewis, pending investigation results.” Polite but unambiguous – they had dropped me. Collins didn’t answer my call, only replied with a WhatsApp message: “I’m sorry, I can’t do anything.” My mentor, Professor Johnson, sent a message through someone: “Lewis, don’t be impulsive. Just apologize and it will blow over. You’re still young.” I didn’t reply. I found a video Andrew had posted last night. He sat at the piano, his eyes red and swollen, his voice choked: “I don’t blame Judge Lewis. Maybe he was just tired, or misheard. My mom told me to learn to be forgiving.” “That piece truly is my own, the fruit of two years of painstaking effort. It makes me sad that someone claims it’s not mine, but I will prove myself with more compositions.” The comments flooded in: [Don’t cry, Andrew! We believe you!] [Kind boys have the most power!] [The Osmond family has such exemplary upbringing!] I almost laughed out loud. Two years of painstaking effort? That was my dad’s fifteen years of tireless work. I turned off my phone. Tomorrow, it was time to settle the score. The next day, Seattle Grand Hotel, third-floor banquet hall. By 2:30 PM, the entrance was swarming with reporters. Wearing a hat and mask, I entered through the staff entrance and found a seat in a corner. Exactly 3 PM, the Osmond family walked onto the stage. Molina was in a business suit, a solemn expression on her face. Osmond wore a dark suit, his eyes slightly red. Andrew, in a white shirt, hung his head, looking like a fragile white flower battered by the storm. Molina spoke first. She stood at the microphone, silent for five seconds, then bowed deeply. “First, I want to apologize to everyone concerned about this matter.” “It was my excessive trust in this industry that led to Andrew suffering undeserved hardship.” Someone in the audience shouted, “Dean Molina, you did nothing wrong!” She raised her hand, gesturing for silence, her voice low: “Andrew has loved music since he was a child. He started learning piano at four, performed on stage at eight, and composed his first piece at twelve.” “This piece, ‘Autumn Night Variations,’ he painstakingly refined for two whole years.” “Every note, a piece of his soul. Every modulation, a spark of inspiration from his late-night practice sessions.” “As a mother, I am proud of him.” Her eyes welled up as she said this. Applause broke out in the audience. Osmond took the microphone, his voice carrying a hint of anger: “I am just a father. My son was humiliated in front of a national audience; it pains me deeply.” “Lewis is also a man; he will have children someday. How would he feel if his children were treated this way?” “I ask for nothing else but justice.” He turned to Andrew, and the father and son put their arms around each other, patting each other’s backs in a show of mutual support. Andrew sighed, then managed a strained, bitter smile. “I don’t hate Judge Lewis. I just hope everyone stops criticizing him. He might truly have his own difficulties.” Someone in the audience shouted: “Andrew, you’re too kind!” “The Osmond family truly has an exemplary upbringing!” I sat in the corner, watching the three perform on stage. Every expression, every line, every pause was precise, as if rehearsed countless times. They weren’t holding a press conference; they were filming a movie. And I was the mere pawn, cast as the villain. The host stepped onto the stage: “Next, a representative from the Musicians’ Association will announce the decision regarding Lewis.” A middle-aged man with glasses stood up, unfolding a piece of paper: “After deliberation by the Musicians’ Association Review Committee, it has been decided to revoke Lewis’s qualification as an international piano competition judge.” “His ‘Annual Outstanding Young Musician’ title is rescinded, and all music conservatories and performing arts organizations are advised to suspend cooperation with him.” “Additionally, the Association calls on Mr. Lewis to acknowledge his errors, publicly apologize, and restore public trust.” A wave of sustained applause. Everyone stood up, except for me. I slowly removed my hat and mask, then stood up. “Wait a moment.” My voice wasn’t loud, but the banquet hall’s sound system carried my every word throughout the hall. The entire hall fell into a stunned silence. Hundreds of eyes turned to me. On stage, Molina’s pupils constricted sharply. Osmond’s tears instantly dried. Andrew’s smile froze. I faced all the cameras, walking step by step toward the stage. “Didn’t you say you wanted justice?” “I’ll give it to you.”

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My cousin Schumacher was getting married, but my wife refused to attend the wedding with me. I’d expected this—just like how she always found excuses not to visit my hometown with me. Though I was prepared, facing relatives’ questions at the wedding reception still left a bitter taste in my mouth. I’d long known that many people gossiped behind my back, saying I wasn’t man enough to even bring my own wife home. Some even whispered that I’d gotten divorced. I drank silently, coming to a decision. No need for rumors anymore. I pulled out my phone and called my wife. She hung up… hung up again… and again. [Can you stop? I’m busy] Faced with her attitude, I calmly typed: [Let’s get divorced] [Are you insane? You want a divorce just because I won’t go to Schumacher’s wedding?] [My sister’s visiting for the holidays. Can’t I spend time with her?] I used to try reasoning with her, telling her how I felt. She said she hated social obligations, but with her own family, she was always enthusiastic. Big events or small, I had to attend everything on her side. When it came to my side, she called it annoying. I’d tried reasoning too many times. I was done talking. [I’m serious. Think about what you want in the divorce, and I’ll state my terms too] [Split assets fifty-fifty. If you agree, we’ll do an uncontested divorce] I sent the two messages. [Are you crazy?] She replied with the same line again. I put away my phone with no intention of responding further. Over the next few days, she went silent, and I didn’t contact her either. On the last day of the holiday, she came home. Seeing my stern face, she said nothing. After setting down her things, she went into the bedroom and slammed the door hard. Moments later she stormed out angrily, holding divorce papers in her hand. “What is this supposed to mean?” She threw the papers at me. “Divorce.” “I want a reason.” “I’m tired. I don’t want to live with you anymore.” I looked at her calmly. “You’re leaving me for Schumacher?” She started crying. Her tears used to make me panic. Now, I ignored them. “We’re both adults. Can’t we be civilized about this?” “Civilized? You call divorce civilized?” Green tore up the divorce papers. “I’ll never divorce you. I can’t handle that kind of humiliation.” I got up and retrieved my pre-packed suitcase from the study. “You have three days to think it over. If you won’t agree to an uncontested divorce, I’ll file a lawsuit.” “Stop right there, Davis! What gives you the right to divorce me? What have I ever done wrong to you?” “Are you seeing someone else?” I glanced at her, too tired to argue. I just wanted to end this marriage as quickly as possible, even if it meant taking a financial loss. Less than two hours after I left home, my father-in-law Ant called, asking me to come back and talk. If we could divorce peacefully, I didn’t want things to get too ugly. I headed back quickly. Ant, my mother-in-law Bella, and Green’s sister Lavinia were all there. The whole family sat formally, like they were conducting an interrogation. Bella spoke first. “Davis, Green’s told us everything. You’re really going too far. You want a divorce just because she wouldn’t go home with you for your wedding?” “Do you think marriage is a joke? Don’t you take Green seriously at all?” I stayed silent, unwilling to engage in this pointless argument. Green and I had argued enough over the years.

Our sex life—her cold rejections. I’d complained many times. It never helped. My income—no matter how my salary increased, there was always someone earning more that she could use to put me down. And my time off work and holidays—I couldn’t have any recreational activities of my own. She’d always say I was lazy, greedy, sneaky, and lacked ambition. Five years of marriage, and she refused to have kids, constantly citing my lack of ambition and insufficient income. Living in that atmosphere every day, I couldn’t find any meaning in life. The thing was, to make things easier for herself, she’d taken a job paying two thousand a month where she could watch shows and scroll through videos all day. After work, she was either playing cards or getting beauty treatments. Shopping and traveling were mandatory on holidays. I didn’t accept this double standard. “Green hasn’t enjoyed a single day of happiness since marrying you. What right do you have to ask for a divorce?” Bella continued her tirade. I glanced at the gold bracelet on her wrist—I’d bought that. She and Ant had no income. I gave them living expenses every month. Every month, I gave them three thousand dollars. As for Green’s jewelry—I never missed Valentine’s Day, birthdays, or anniversaries. Not once in five years. I didn’t know what suffering they’d endured, or what hardships Green had faced with me. Perhaps the greatest hardship she’d suffered was drinking iced Americanos. Whenever I went back with Green, Bella never stopped talking—either about whose son-in-law made so much money in business or whose daughter acquired what nice things. Her family was a bottomless pit. I looked at Bella. “I came here to talk with you all. Can you shut your mouth?” Bella stood up, glaring. “How dare you! You dare tell me to shut up? Green, look at what you’ve found.” She pointed at me. “With us here, this is your attitude. God knows how you bully Green normally.” “If that’s your attitude, I’ll see you in court.” I stood to leave. “Stop right there! Is this how your parents raised you? Do you have any respect for us?” “Mom, please say less.” Green quickly stopped Bella. “Your parents should be here soon. We’ll discuss this when they arrive.” Ant finally spoke up. Divorce was a big deal—impossible to hide from my parents. Since they’d already notified my folks, we might as well sit down together and settle this. Shortly after I sat back down, my parents arrived. “Finally, you’re here.” Bella wore a stern expression. “Davis is absolutely terrible. You need to control him. I said a few words to him and he told me to shut up.” “This kind of disrespect for elders—only Green could tolerate him.” “Anyone else would have divorced him long ago.” My dad didn’t take the bait, just looked at me. “You’ve thought this through?” “Yes.” “Then divorce.” Bella’s expression darkened. “What do you mean? I called you here to mediate.” “Mediate?” My dad glanced at her. “I don’t see you trying to mediate.” “And speaking of disrespecting elders, does Green respect me and her mother-in-law?” “They’ve been married five years. Has she ever visited us?” “In all these years, has she ever called us Mom and Dad?” “Only the people who gave birth to me are Mom and Dad. Is it wrong that I don’t call you that?” Green lost her temper too. “Then divorce it is.” My dad repeated. “On this matter, I support Davis.”

“I thought you were reasonable people, that’s why I called you over.” Ant’s face darkened. “Since this is your attitude too, there’s no need to let Green suffer with you anymore.” Ant looked at me. “Davis, you can divorce Green, but you leave with nothing.” I ignored him, staring at Green instead. “If you agree to an uncontested divorce, we split assets fifty-fifty. If not, I’ll sue and fight for all the assets, leaving you with nothing.” “Fight for all the assets? Who the hell do you think you are?” Bella put one hand on her hip, pointing at me with the other. “How dare you even mention assets? Have you no shame?” “I’ve been too nice to you, haven’t I?” I stopped indulging her. “You have two daughters. Lavinia married far away, so you expect me and Green to support you in old age. You’re the shameless one.” “You… you… you…” Bella pointed at me. “Won’t our inheritance be yours when we die?” “Inheritance? What inheritance do you have?” I laughed bitterly. “Because you raised daughters, you retired early and started living off others.” “Now even your living expenses come from me, and you dare mention inheritance?” “And the car, house, jewelry—did Green go without any of them?” “If you haven’t learned to be human, you should die and reincarnate to learn again.” Seeing her face flush with anger, I turned back to Green. “I’m just waiting for one word from you. I want to divorce you as soon as possible.” “As long as you agree to an uncontested divorce, you get half the assets. If I sue, you won’t get anything.” “Davis, you’re bullying me.” Green wiped away tears pitifully. “You’re the one leaving me. You want the divorce. What right do you have to split assets?” “What have I done wrong to you?” “You just think I’m too old. You must be seeing someone else.” “Exactly.” Bella chimed in. “Divorce is fine, but you must explain why. If you can’t, you leave with nothing.” “You know perfectly well why I want a divorce.” I stared at Green. “Are you sure you want me to say it now?” “I don’t know. Say it right now why you want a divorce.” “I can tolerate anything about you, but not matters of principle. That’s why I want a divorce.” “What do you mean?” Green glared at me. “You don’t understand what I mean?” “I don’t understand.” Green stepped forward. “You must explain clearly.” I said coldly: “You cheated on me.” “Bullshit! You’re the one who cheated! Don’t slander me.” Green became agitated. “You need proof—you need evidence. Where’s your proof?” She rushed at me shouting, “You’re inhuman! How can you say such things? I’ll tear your mouth off!” Slap… I raised my hand and struck her face. In all our years of marriage, I’d never argued with her. When she was willful or threw tantrums, I’d always laughed it off. But on matters of principle, there could be no forgiveness. Actually, I didn’t want to hit her. I found her disgusting. I just wanted to end this marriage quickly, but facing Green’s fake innocence, I couldn’t hold back. That slap lit the fuse. “You dare hit Green!” Bella rushed forward, Ant followed, and Lavinia joined in too. My parents immediately entered the fray.

Numbers-wise, we were at a disadvantage. But the other side only had Ant as a male, so we gained the upper hand. All those years of pent-up frustration, I released through my fists and feet on Green. I found the chance to slap the domineering Bella several times. Finally, my dad and I teamed up to take down Ant and used my size 11 shoe to greet his face. I proved to Bella through action that I dared not only to hit Green, but her too. Whether it was dirty or not didn’t matter anymore. It felt great. Though feeling great came at a cost—the police took us all in. This kind of family conflict was hard to assign responsibility for. In the end, everyone got a verbal warning. This negotiation ended in physical combat. Clearly, an uncontested divorce was off the table now. Time to sue. Half a month later, the court arranged the first mediation. That day, all of Green’s relatives who could come showed up, clearly planning to get revenge through force. At the mediation, Green’s relatives looked menacing. Seeing this, my dad called my family’s relatives. I figured once mediation ended, another battle was inevitable. The mediator looked stern. “I know you’re all emotional, but today we’re here to resolve your conflicts.” “Davis, Green doesn’t agree to your divorce request, and she’s very upset about your accusation of her infidelity.” “If you have no evidence, she has the right to hold you accountable.” I looked at Green. “Since you won’t take the easy way out, today I’ll let all your relatives see your true face.” “Green, listen carefully. Before Schumacher’s wedding half a month ago, I installed cameras at home. Do you think I have evidence of your affair?” I looked at the mediator. “I have a video that can prove Green’s infidelity.” Green’s face went pale. “I agree to divorce. I agree to leave with nothing.” Too late. For people who don’t appreciate kindness, they must learn pain. I told the mediator, “I request to play this video publicly to prove I didn’t slander Green.” “No, you can’t!” Green panicked. “You heard her—Green says you can’t.” Bella joined in. “Green said you can’t.” Lavinia also shouted. Green’s whole family panicked. I watched silently. The expressions on Bella and the others’ faces made me realize they’d known about Green’s affair all along. “This is evidence proving my innocence.” I stood up. “It’s also key evidence for the divorce and asset division.” The mediator didn’t indulge Green and her family. The video was played on the spot. The day I went to Schumacher’s wedding, Green confirmed I wasn’t home. She brought her lover back to the house. The camera clearly recorded everything, including their conversation. “It’s more exciting at your place.” “Baby, I want something even more exciting. One day you should slip him some sleeping pills.” Hearing this dialogue, my dad immediately cursed. The scene erupted into chaos. “You violated my privacy rights! I’ll sue you!” Green shouted at the top of her lungs. The mediation couldn’t continue. Both sides left. Outside, Green pointed at me. “He violated my privacy and just insulted me. Beat him up!” Her relatives’ faces couldn’t have looked worse. “What a disgrace! We thought Green was really wronged.” “Turns out she’s shameless! She’s completely humiliated us, and now she wants us to beat Davis? You must be joking.”

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