Category: English

I was at the County Clerk’s Office, filing for divorce, when I accidentally dropped a positive pregnancy test. Just like that, everyone knew I was pregnant. My husband, Lucas Sullivan, stared at the test, his gaze darkening, and through gritted teeth, he managed to say, “You…” Panicked, I quickly blurted out, “Let me explain! This baby isn’t yours!” “Chloe Collins!” That day, Lucas confiscated our marriage certificate, grabbed my hand, and without a word, dragged me home. I knew I had really ticked him off. But I wasn’t sure if I could handle his wrath. In reality, this child—well, I had tricked my way into it. I didn’t think of it as Lucas’s baby; to me, this was my baby. Lucas and I had a marriage of convenience, arranged for business reasons. Before we got married, we’d already signed the divorce papers. Last month, the contract expired, and naturally, since his “first love,” Madeline Collins, had returned from abroad, it was time for us to part ways. But why should I let him go that easily? I’d spent over a decade loving this man, and I wasn’t about to hand him back to that woman without a fight! No way! “Lucas, fine, we’ll divorce, but if my second husband finds out I’m still a virgin, he’ll think I was ditched because I’m not attractive enough!” I took two steps forward, hooked my finger around his tie, and gently pulled him closer. His cold, chiseled face loomed in front of me. I’d practiced this seductive move in front of the mirror a dozen times, even popped a strawberry-flavored mint for good measure. “Come on, Mr. Sullivan, do me this one last favor. I promise, after that, we’ll head straight to the Clerk’s Office.” My heart pounded as his dark eyes locked onto mine, making me feel as though he could see right through me. No backing out now! This is my only shot! Push him down! Get him into bed! Just as I was about to make the first move, desperately recalling everything I’d crammed from those imported South Korean romance dramas, he acted. Effortlessly, Lucas scooped me up, his heated, toned muscles pressing against me through his shirt. After two years of marriage, this was my first time in his room. It was as minimalistic and organized as I’d imagined—just like him. He tossed me onto his sleek black bed, then began unbuttoning his shirt right in front of me. His powerful chest muscles peeked through the opening. And below that, a perfectly sculpted set of abs… My face flushed. If I were a kettle, I’d probably be whistling from the steam by now! How could a man so distant and refined be so rough once he took his clothes off? I regretted it for a second. But then… hmm, maybe not… Oh no, I’m regretting it again! I spent an entire day in bed recovering, but at least it happened. The next day, we submitted the divorce papers. There’s a one-month waiting period. So, technically, this child is still mine. I just want to take my baby and leave. End my long, bitter crush with a final period.

After we returned from the Clerk’s Office, Lucas seemed deep in thought. He stood by the window like a statue for what felt like an eternity before finally turning around and pulling me from my chair. “We’re going to the hospital.” I jerked back in panic. Hospital? Did he want to get rid of my baby? “No! I’m not going, even if you drag me there!” But he didn’t stop. His grip was firm, and despite my resistance, he carried me out of the house like I was a child. Sharing his body heat as we moved in sync, part of me wished the hospital wasn’t our destination. I could’ve stayed wrapped in his arms forever. At the entrance of the private hospital, after another struggle, Lucas finally got me into the maternity ward. It was all because of the words he whispered in my ear. “Be good. Listen.” His voice was both soothing and seductive, sending shivers from my ear straight to my heart. Pressed up against him, I felt like I was short-circuiting, and before I knew it, I let go of the door. Ugh… beauty is my downfall. Lucas registered me with a specialist. The doctor’s name was familiar. Madeline Collins. Lucas’s first love! She wasn’t beautiful in the same way I was. Her charm was in her gentle grace, her soft, serene smile, and her ever-tidy appearance that radiated a warm, morning light. “Chloe, you’re three weeks pregnant…” Her hand trembled slightly as she held the ultrasound report, but she smiled anyway. This was the kind of woman Lucas liked. Meanwhile, I used my cold, cruel words to protect my fragile pride. My mom had been the other woman, who had taken Madeline’s mother’s place in the Collins family. I was the shameless younger sister who had stolen Madeline’s engagement to Lucas. I was lucky enough to inherit my mother’s looks—seductive, cunning—and managed to steal two short years with Lucas in the shadows of my long, dreary life. Lucas’s brows furrowed—always a sign that he was annoyed. I’d been prepared for this, but it still hurt to see how angry my pregnancy made him. He stood up, brushed past me, and walked over to Madeline. Was he really that eager to comfort another woman right in front of me? We weren’t even divorced yet! Gently, he took the ultrasound printout from Madeline’s hands and straightened it out, his voice cold. “You creased it.” He pressed it down a few more times, but there were still fingerprints. He turned to Madeline and said seriously, “Print another one.” Me: ??? What kind of plot twist was this? His OCD was acting up at a time like this? For the first time, Madeline’s flawless smile faltered. “Lucas, I didn’t mean to.” Lucas’s gaze shifted to her. “My mom only had one child.” Then, without a hint of sarcasm, he added, “Are you my dad’s illegitimate daughter?” Tears welled up in Madeline’s eyes. “You’re being too harsh! I’ll tell your father!” Lucas nodded, “Feel free.”

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. It was rare to see Madeline, that self-righteous woman, getting her comeuppance. If I didn’t know any better, I’d question if she was really Lucas’s first love. He hated being called “brother,” and he’d only ever been special to her. I used to call him “Lucas, my dear brother,” when I was trailing after him. He’d snapped at me with a warning, “Don’t call me brother. I will never be your brother!” After that, I buried my feelings even deeper, my unrequited love hidden away. By the time we got home, I still felt like I was floating in a daze, like I was walking on clouds, not sure if any of it was real. Lucas hadn’t forced me to get rid of the baby. In fact, he had carried me back in his arms with such care, like I was something precious. He even knelt down in front of me, those hands—hands that wielded power, commanded respect—gently slipping off my high heels and replacing them with soft, cozy slippers. No artisan in the world could have crafted hands as perfect as his. It was like they carried some sort of magic, pulling my gaze to them over and over again. What on earth was happening? This world had turned upside down! Two years of marriage, and we had barely even held hands, but on the day we were meant to finalize our divorce, he carried me twice and even changed my shoes! “Stop wearing high heels for now. They’re too risky.” He looked up at me as I sat on the bench, his gaze warm and tender. Lucas had these eyes that were both elegant and intense. Normally, he seemed cool and detached, but when he looked at you like that, you felt utterly adored. I nodded eagerly. At that moment, I would have agreed to anything. Heck, if he’d told me to eat my shoes, I’d have done it without a second thought! Lucas took the ultrasound print and framed it carefully, placing it in the most prominent spot in the living room. Then he had someone send over a massive stack of books: Pregnancy Guide, Tales for Baby, Child Psychology… It hit me then: I was gaining some prestige, thanks to this baby. Even Lucas, the powerful CEO, was now doting on me because of the child I carried. I hesitated before speaking. “So, about the divorce…” Lucas had been organizing the books, but at the sound of my voice, he froze and looked up quickly. My goodness. Was that… nervousness I saw in his eyes? The almighty Lucas Sullivan was worried? He stared at me, his throat working as if he were struggling with what to say. For a moment, he seemed almost… hurt. It was so brief, but it made my heart ache. Softening my voice, I sighed. “Let’s wait until after the baby is born, okay?” “Okay,” he agreed without hesitation. Everything seemed to be about the baby now. But for some reason, it only made me feel worse.

But it’s fine. The law says that for the first two years, custody automatically goes to the mother. Even if we divorce, he’ll have to see me if he wants to visit the baby. That means Lucas and I will be tied together, forever. Thinking about it like that, staying connected through the child seemed like a better deal than running away while pregnant! However, life has a funny way of knocking you down when you’re flying too high. My pregnancy symptoms hit hard, and by the time I was five months along, I couldn’t keep anything down. I lost over fifteen pounds, and I was barely surviving on medication. One day, after throwing up my favorite steamed cod for the third time, I broke down in tears. Lucas didn’t even flinch. Instead, he calmly wiped my face with a warm towel, treating me like I was a delicate piece of art. Between sobs, I whimpered, “Lucas, if I keep vomiting like this, the baby won’t survive. I really, really want this baby.” “I know,” he whispered. He pulled me against him, gently stroking my back, then slowly helped me drink small sips of water. The bitterness in my mouth began to fade, and my emotions gradually settled. It was then I realized how intimate our position was. If I tilted my head just a little, I could hear his heartbeat. Before I could act on the thought, Lucas called for the housekeeper to take me back to my room to rest. Ugh. He could talk for hours with Madeline, but when it came to me, all I got were “mm-hm’s,” “okay’s,” and “I know.” Was I really that bad? And come on, with that cold demeanor, how had Madeline even handled him? She wasn’t exactly curvy… While my thoughts spiraled, I suddenly got a message. It was from Madeline. She didn’t say anything—just sent a picture. It was a medical report. I didn’t understand most of the jargon, but the last line stood out: “Infertility suspected. IVF recommended.” The world around me seemed to dim. The report was Madeline’s. That means… she can’t have children. And Lucas—he must know. So… the baby inside me… was it meant for her all along?

Shaking, I forced myself to get up and go find Lucas. To make things easier for me, he had moved his bedroom from across the hall to the one right next to mine. The door was slightly ajar, and when I peeked inside, I saw him holding that pregnancy guide again, carefully taking notes. Once, I would’ve thought it was sweet, but now, it just felt cruel. “Lucas, you deserve an Oscar. You should’ve gone into acting, not business.” He quickly shut the book, his handsome face flushing slightly. He looked at me, and for a moment, his expression froze. “You’re not wearing slippers.” He turned to leave, but I grabbed his arm. “Is it true that Madeline can’t have children?” In the scuffle, the book slipped from his grasp, falling open on the floor. He quickly covered my eyes with his hand. “Don’t look…” What were they hiding? Had they done something even worse behind my back? If he didn’t want me to see it, I definitely had to. I forced his hand away and glanced down. My face immediately turned red. A line of text had been circled in red ink: “Safe to resume intercourse after three months of pregnancy.” Next to it, Lucas had written detailed notes, citing references and expert advice. He hurriedly picked up the book and locked it in a drawer, but my mind was still spinning with his scribbled handwriting, all those notes, and… those memories. His taut muscles, the beads of sweat, and those… intimate sounds. But all of it—everything he’d done for me—had been for someone else. All I’d been was a stand-in for another woman. “Chloe, you’re bleeding.” Bleeding? I touched my nose. It didn’t seem like I was… “Don’t worry. I’ll get you to the hospital right away!”

Drip… drip… I felt something warm trickling down my leg onto the floor… My stomach tightened, a dull pain spreading. I clasped my hands over my belly. “The baby…” “Breathe. Relax your body as much as you can.” Lucas’s voice was soothing, like he was guiding me through a crisis. I followed his rhythm, slowly calming down. Thump, thump, thump. Was that my heartbeat or his? I looked up, only able to make out his strong jaw, the tight set of his lips, and the muscles straining along his neck… “Don’t be afraid, Chloe.” “I won’t let anything happen to you.” Through the haze, I stared up at him. “Lucas, did you only want this baby because Madeline can’t have one?” “This is our child. It has nothing to do with her.” And just like that, I started crying uncontrollably. All the tension, the fear—it melted away like falling into warm water, soothing and comforting me. The hospital was chaos—flashes of light, shadows of blue and green. Then, the world went dark. I had a long, long dream. In the dream, I went back two years to when Madeline had first gone abroad. Just as I was about to celebrate, I got another bombshell of news: Lucas was leaving the country, too! His family business was in biotechnology, but he was going to France—wine, steak, luxury—just to chase after Madeline. If that wasn’t love, I didn’t know what was. Two years ago, I was full of youthful energy, determined not to give up. I wasn’t going to sit by and let him get away. I secretly followed him and booked the same flight. I didn’t dare fly first class, though, so I slummed it in economy, hoping not to get caught. But as soon as we landed, I realized just how stupid I’d been. I was terrible at languages—I barely spoke English, let alone French—and I’d lost track of him at the airport. What if I got kidnapped by some human traffickers? I was young and pretty—what if they sold me into a brothel or, worse, harvested my organs? I was about to cry when a deep, familiar voice spoke from behind me. “What are you doing here?” It was Lucas. If I listened closely, I could hear a faint tremor in his voice. “Lucas!” I whirled around and threw myself at him. “I was so scared! I thought I’d never see you again…” His body went rigid. “Let go.” It was like a bucket of cold water had doused my excitement, and the joy of seeing him vanished instantly.

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My rich, bankrupt boyfriend disappeared for three months, and I went crazy searching the entire city for him. I even took up a job as a delivery driver, just to roam the streets hoping to catch a glimpse of him. One day, while running an errand to deliver a document, I saw him by chance. He was dressed in tailored designer wear, calmly bidding on an antique. Thirty million dollars. The woman next to him smiled sweetly, “As expected, Jack Stevens is always so generous.” He pinched her cheek affectionately. Someone nearby chimed in, “Jack’s also got a soft heart. Not long ago, he finally cut ties with that small-town girl.” I shifted my gaze, and then… he saw me. And everything descended into chaos. “Twenty million.” “Twenty-three million.” The bidding war was intense, voices rising one after another. I stood at the door, able to see everything clearly inside. Soon, a young man in a suit rushed over, beads of sweat on his forehead. “Good, I made it just in time.” Wearing my delivery uniform, I handed over the document with a smile. “If you need something delivered, you can count on me for punctuality and speed.” I had marked this delivery as urgent, hoping to leave a good impression. The young man glanced at me. “Alright, come in for a drink of water, but remember, don’t disturb the big shots in there.” He led me carefully through a corridor beside the hall. As we passed by, I noticed a European-style window on the wall. It wasn’t fully closed, and I caught a glimpse inside. A hand was raised, signaling something. It was holding a red string. The light hit it just right, creating a stark contrast. I flinched, instinctively hiding behind the wall. “Hey, what’s going on in there?” I asked with a forced smile, trying my best to look naive. He raised an eyebrow. “Rich people’s games.” Just as he said that, the auctioneer’s hammer came down. “Thirty million! Congratulations, Mr. Stevens.” The young man sighed, “This Jack Stevens, don’t be fooled by his youth—he’s a big deal.” “All that for an heirloom necklace, and he just raised the price to thirty million like it was nothing.” I pretended not to hear, but my heart clenched tightly. Jack Stevens? Wasn’t he… bankrupt?

Since Jack disappeared in the middle of the night, I’d been searching for him for three whole months. I quit my other jobs, focusing solely on being a delivery driver. Every time I delivered an order, I’d sneak a look around. I even scoured the local news every day, terrified I might see him in a headline. Inside, the auction was still lively. The lights all focused on that necklace, the diamonds reflecting a dazzling array of colors. They burned my eyes. I didn’t go in to confront him. Instead, I stole another glance through the window. He was dressed in tailored luxury wear, slightly turned to the side, patiently speaking with the woman next to him. She was nothing like me, who was always grimy and exhausted. The woman had long, wavy seaweed-green hair, her makeup flawless. Even without the lights, she was radiant. The man beside them, I knew—it was Victor Lewis, his childhood friend. They were chatting happily, as if the thirty million was just a number. “Still the same guy, big spender like back in the day. He sure doesn’t look like the man who hung around that broke girl.” Jack playfully pushed Victor’s forehead. “Don’t remind me. I almost forgot what it felt like to spend money.” The woman beside him laughed. “Thirty million, and Jack still thinks it’s not enough?” She leaned closer, and even from afar, I could catch a whiff of her perfume. “How about buying me a pair of earrings next?” Her eyes sparkled with a sultry charm. “You completed the task I gave you, after all. I wouldn’t leave you empty-handed.” Victor laughed exaggeratedly. “Man, if that broke girl knew this was all a game for your amusement, she’d probably be fuming.” The woman’s expression remained indifferent. “Cinderella must face reality eventually.” Jack pinched her cheek with a doting smile. “Spoiled since childhood.” She pouted. “Fine, go wash off that woman’s scent, or tonight won’t be so pleasant for you.” I saw a flicker of desire in Jack’s eyes. I’d seen that look so many times before. “Is that so?” They exchanged a smile, the possessiveness in his gaze completely unguarded. Victor chuckled. “Cindy, you were the one who told him to date that poor girl, but now you’re the one who can’t stand her. Haven’t changed a bit, have you?” “That was then,” she glanced toward the window, as if she saw me. I stepped back instinctively. I shouldn’t have kept watching, but I couldn’t help it. I saw her mouth the words: “But now, he’s mine.”

Jack Stevens had always been sharp. In the next second, our eyes met. Panic rose in me, and I quickly turned to leave. I heard a chair scrape against the floor inside, followed by hurried footsteps. Just as I was about to walk away, Jack grabbed my arm. “Mr. Stevens,” I muttered, looking down. My eyes fell on the red string around his wrist. It looked completely out of place. “Nina, what are you doing here?” I sniffed. “Can’t you see for yourself, Mr. Stevens?” Victor and Cindy had followed us outside. “No, I must be blind.” Their stares made me feel humiliated. The slogan on my blue delivery uniform was clear for all to see. Jack furrowed his brows, while Cindy stomped her foot. “Jack, don’t tell me you actually like her?” Like she was scalded, Jack instantly let go of my hand. Then, he pulled a card from his pocket. “It’s a supplementary card, linked to mine. Take it.” I didn’t take it, just stared coldly at the card. “Mr. Stevens, what’s this? Compensation?” I scoffed, “The shabby things in my studio flat aren’t worth enough for you to use that card.” Jack grew more irritated. “Then what do you want?” What do I want? How could he have the nerve to ask? I nearly doubled over with laughter, coldly addressing him and the two people standing behind him. “I told you, Jack Stevens, I hate being lied to.” Cindy curled her lips. “What a hassle.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was just the right volume for me to hear. She was speaking to me. “Cindy, don’t say things like that,” Jack snapped, like he was scolding a spoiled child.

I’ve heard words like that before. When I was younger and we had guests over, my cousin Brian would always dig through my room, searching for “treasures.” The drawings I had spent days working on, and the paints my parents had saved up to buy me, would be ruined in seconds—smeared all over. Even my face would end up painted with streaks of color. Then Granny Janine would come in, smiling while trying to clean up the mess. “Oh, my sweet boy, you’re such a rascal,” she would say, holding him tight. “Next time, don’t do that, okay?” She pretended to be stern, but it never worked. Just like now. Jack had stopped Cindy from saying anything worse, but his indulgence only made her more brazen. Cindy made a silly face at him and reluctantly turned away, pouting. Victor stepped in to lighten the mood. “Alright, alright, it’s getting late. Jack, let’s not keep her from working.” I took off my uniform jacket and threw it at them, hard. “Since he’s alive, there’s no need for me to keep doing this job.” Jack stiffened, his expression growing colder by the second. I imagine no one had ever treated him like this before. The streetlights flickered on as I rode my bike home. Wearing my helmet, my vision blurred slightly. I suddenly remembered the first time I met Jack Stevens. He was standing there, dressed in a crisp white shirt, with the golden sunlight pouring over him. His brown eyes seemed to be sprinkled with specks of gold. “Freshman?” He was one of the senior students welcoming us. “Interested in joining the student council?” And that’s how I ended up in the same department as him. It was only natural that I got his contact information. The first time I messaged him, my hands wouldn’t stop trembling. What was I supposed to say? I didn’t know. From the moment I woke up that day, I rehearsed over and over again, until the lights went out that night. All I managed to type were three dry words. “Hi, senior.” It seemed like he had his phone in hand, because he replied quickly. “Still awake?” But now, when I open our chat window, it’s just me—talking to myself. Line after line of green bubbles mocking me. How could someone like that ever fall for me? Turns out, from the very beginning, he had a plan.

Jack and I got together on the day he graduated. He had drunk a lot that night. He was stumbling as he walked out. I gathered my courage and chased after him. He couldn’t seem to focus on anything, and before I knew it, he had grabbed my wrist and pressed me against the wall. “Do you want to date?” His eyes were hazy, his gaze seductive, a lazy charm radiating from him. And for some reason, I agreed. Who would have thought that Jack wouldn’t regret it? So, I worked even harder. Even though my earnings were meager, at least I could have some pride. But Jack was so extravagant. One of his shirts cost me a year’s salary. Yet, he would only pat my head and say, “Nina, you’re amazing.” Just that one sentence would keep me going for a long time. But that didn’t last long. His family went bankrupt. His parents ran away to escape their debts. When I found out, I rushed to find him. He was sitting at the entrance of their mansion, surrounded by nothing. He looked up at me, the streetlight casting a long shadow behind him. He looked so cold, so alone. “Leave. I have nothing left to give you.” I cried and laughed at the same time. For the first time, I sat down beside him, looping my arm through his. “It’s okay. From now on, I’ll take care of you.” He shifted slightly, and then came the flood of kisses. Our breaths mingled. It was one of the few intimate moments we ever shared.

Back in my tiny studio flat, traces of Jack were still everywhere. The ceramic bowls we made together, the coasters we wove, and our matching slippers. I packed everything away one by one. And that’s when I realized—we didn’t even have a single photo together. A thought formed in my mind. Maybe Jack had known all along that this was just a game. That’s why he didn’t want to leave any proof of our relationship. I opened his Instagram profile. There wasn’t a single post about me. It was as if we had never officially been together. Our relationship had begun out of nowhere, and now it was ending just as mysteriously. I clipped my bangs behind my ears and washed my face. Cold water soaked my cheeks, and the scar on my forehead stood out clearly. I closed my eyes and was transported back to the car accident. At the time, Jack had gone out to buy me a cake. A car came speeding by, and I pushed him out of the way with all my strength. I was the one who got hit, and though the physical wounds had healed over time, the scar on my forehead never fully went away. How foolish. For the first time, I used concealer. It was as if I were trying to fill the hole left in my heart. Or maybe, I was just deceiving myself. My hand trembled violently as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I almost couldn’t hold onto the makeup brush. A car horn sounded outside, and I jumped. The brush slipped from my hand into the sink, soaked with water. Nina, you’re such a failure. All the disappointment and anxiety I had bottled up finally erupted. I wasn’t even sure why I was crying. Was it because my hands could barely hold a pen? Or was it because of this secret relationship that no one knew about? I curled up, slowly sliding down to the floor, my back against the wall. I don’t know how long I stayed there. The silhouette of the window merged with the darkness outside. Finally, I moved my dry lips. Jack Stevens, I don’t want you anymore. From today on, this is goodbye.

Truth be told, Jack Stevens didn’t have many things left here. It took just two hours to clear everything out. I called the junk man, Mr. Davinson, and handed over everything in one go. The apartment felt clean all of a sudden. No more pairs of things—no more signs of us. It was refreshing. I tidied up a bit, ready to start looking for a new job the next day. Then a message came in. It was a photo. Jack was lying in Cindy’s arms, his eyes half-closed. Behind them was the luxurious setting of a private lounge, the kind dripping with decadence. The dim lighting cast a seductive glow over Jack’s face. A side of him I had never seen before. Cindy didn’t add any words to the message. But it was enough. The message was clear: Jack Stevens was hers. After the emotional rollercoaster earlier, I felt… nothing. I deleted the photo, my expression blank as I started making myself a bowl of noodles. I’d cried over him once. That was enough. Crying over a man? Now that would be foolish. The noodles were just about ready when my phone rang. A number I didn’t recognize. “Hey, Nina—no, wait, poor little Nina,” came Victor’s booming voice from the other end. “Jack’s drunk and insists you come pick him up. Better hurry.” I took a bite of my noodles. “Jack Stevens? I don’t know him.” “What are you talking about? If you don’t come soon, the place will close, and Jack will be sleeping on the street.” “Then let him sleep there,” I said, finishing the noodles in just a few more bites. “It’d be better if he just died.” Victor was still talking, but I hung up before he could waste any more of my time. What a waste of a phone call. I turned my phone off and enjoyed one of the best night’s sleeps I’d had in a while. When I woke up the next morning, sunlight poured through the window, filling the room. Turns out, when I’m not worrying about Jack Stevens, I can sleep perfectly fine. This was the first day without him, and even the bed felt bigger than it used to. I was just about to get out of bed when I saw a head pop out from the bathroom.

“Nina, where’s all my stuff?” I froze on the spot. My body trembled involuntarily. “What are you doing here?” Jack was drying his face with a towel. “I’ve got a key. Why wouldn’t I come home?” His casual tone and the way he acted like nothing had happened yesterday shocked me. Barefoot, he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, looking a bit uncomfortable. “I drank too much last night. Give me a massage, would you?” I could hardly believe his audacity. He had a new woman now, yet he still thought he could order me around like before. I backed away, my face cold. “Jack Stevens, what are you trying to do?” Jack hesitated, then resumed his usual soft demeanor. “Nina, what are you talking about? Come on, help me out.” He reached for my hand, but I pulled away immediately. A flash of disappointment crossed his eyes, but he quickly covered it up, trying to act nonchalant. “Oh, I noticed a lot of things missing from the apartment. How about we go shopping later?” He moved closer, flashing me that boyish grin I used to love. “You can help me pick stuff out.” Jack raised his eyebrows, still carrying that youthful charm. It was the look I once adored. But now, looking at him, all I felt was disgust. He hadn’t even bothered to wash off Cindy’s perfume. “Jack, this isn’t your place anymore.” My voice was ice-cold. “Leave the key and get out.” His lips quivered slightly, a hint of panic creeping into his expression. “But Nina, you said… you said this was our home.” His skin must be thicker than I imagined. Suddenly, something clicked in his mind, and he asked, “Is this about Cindy?”

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“I need to go on a work trip for a month. Could you come by my place to feed my cat? Also, the mango juice in the fridge is about to expire.” At two in the morning, I was jolted awake by my phone vibrating. I grabbed my phone and saw it was a message from my best mate, Chloe. The next moment, I was wide awake and drenched in cold sweat. First, she’s a freelancer, so there’s no such thing as a work trip for her. Second, she doesn’t have a cat. Third, she’s allergic to mangoes. “Emma, I need to go on a work trip for a month. Could you come by my place to feed my cat? Also, the mango juice in the fridge is about to expire.” At two in the morning, I was jolted awake by my phone vibrating. I picked up my phone from the bedside and saw it was a message from my best friend, Chloe Harris. I’m a light sleeper; it’s no exaggeration to say that if a pin dropped in the night, I’d wake up immediately. Chloe knew this all too well, which is why she never texts me in the middle of the night. In the next second, I suddenly realized something, and sleep fled from me, replaced by a wave of cold fear. I’ve known Chloe for over a decade; she’s my closest friend, and nobody understands her better than I do. First, she’s a freelancer; there’s no such thing as a work trip for her. Second, she doesn’t have a cat. Third, she’s allergic to mangoes. Recently, Chloe and I watched a film about the safety of women living alone, which included a plot point where two best mates had a secret code in case they were in danger. “Emma, if I ever send you a strange message, you must come and save me.” My heart raced, and I instinctively reached for Chloe’s number to call her. But I quickly realized she was hinting at something alarming rather than directly telling me what was happening, which could only mean that the attacker was right next to her, watching her every move. At two-thirty in the morning, it seemed like the power was out, and everything was pitch black outside. In the darkness, it felt as though countless eyes were watching me, my heart racing wildly, the strong beats echoing in my ears, as if they might burst from my chest. I hurriedly grabbed my medication from the drawer and swallowed a couple of pills dry, taking a while to regain my composure. Once I calmed down, I called James Thornton first, then reported it to the police. James is my boyfriend—he’s smart and tall. Whether I’m facing the police or going to find Chloe, I always feel safer with him by my side. As soon as I saw James, I rushed into his arms, crying uncontrollably. “Emma, don’t be scared. I’m here; no one will hurt you again,” James murmured, patting my back softly. Inhaling his subtle scent, my fear gradually dissipated. Thank goodness I have James. About five minutes later, the police arrived. I sat on the sofa, listening to James talk to them. “Emma Smith?” said one of the officers, his voice laced with surprise. I looked up to the door and was astonished to see a familiar face. It was David Collins. What a coincidence; David and I go way back. We were classmates in secondary school, and he was technically my first love. However, the circumstances of our breakup were rather tragic, something I’ve never forgotten. We were young and didn’t understand much. The kind of childish romance we had didn’t hold any weight. Even so, seeing David now brought an inexplicable awkwardness. David was all business, though, and had no intention of reminiscing. He said matter-of-factly, “We understand the situation. We’re going to Chloe’s house now.” “I’m coming with you,” I said, summoning my courage. David shot me a disapproving glance, as if he thought I’d just complicate things. James also advised, “I know you’re worried about Chloe, but this is something the police should handle.” I bit my lip stubbornly and insisted, “Chloe is my best friend. I need to see her safe before I can relax. Plus, I have her keys; I can help.” Seeing my determination, James and David had no choice but to relent. They both knew I’m quite stubborn about what I set my mind on. Reluctantly, David allowed James and me to tag along.

Chloe lived in an upscale house as a standard wealthy second-generation; her security system was top-notch. David immediately instructed his team to pull up the surveillance footage, and he followed James and me straight to Chloe’s flat. As we reached the front door, we caught a whiff of something metallic in the air. I shuddered, a sense of foreboding washing over me. My breathing quickened as I fumbled for the keys in my bag. The more anxious I became, the less I could think clearly. The keys, usually on the outside of my bag, were nowhere to be found. Seemingly sensing my fear, James wrapped his arms around me from behind, whispering, “Emma, don’t be scared. I’m here.” I took a few deep breaths, forcing myself to stay calm, and finally found the keys, handing them to David. David shot me an irritated glance, likely thinking I was taking too long, but he didn’t say anything and turned to open the door. Chloe’s house was dark, and the sharp, metallic scent made it hard to breathe. I stared at the closed door, an inexplicable panic gripping me, as if some monstrous beast was about to leap out from the darkness. I clutched James’s arm tightly, hoping it would somehow comfort me. When the door swung open, David stepped inside first, fumbling for the light switch in the living room. What I saw in the centre of the room would haunt me forever. Chloe was dead. In her own living room, in a grotesquely violent manner. She was nailed to a cross in a kneeling position, her face mutilated, and her body stabbed numerous times, blood splattered everywhere. I screamed in terror and nearly collapsed. Fortunately, James caught me just in time and pulled out his medication, handing it to me. After taking the pills, I felt a bit better, but I was still sobbing uncontrollably. “It’s all my fault. I came too late. If I’d come earlier…” David stood a few feet away, shooting me a glare. “The killer is exceptionally brutal. If you’d arrived sooner, there would have been another body to contend with.” I felt sheepish. David always had a sharp tongue, just like before. That was just typical. The police quickly cordoned off the area with tape. The officer who went to review the footage returned empty-handed. “The cameras nearby were damaged.” I sat dazed on the steps, feeling lost. To lose my best friend like this, at home, was unbearable for anyone. While I was lost in thought, a furry head suddenly appeared in front of me, startling me out of my wits. Thankfully, James was right there, pulling me into his embrace. “Come back, you silly dog!” David called sternly. I realized it was just a police dog. “I’m sorry; Emma is scared of dogs. Could you please keep it on a tight leash?” I heard James’s displeased voice. David held the leash, casting me a contemplative glance. I imagined he was thinking about when I had started fearing dogs. After all, back when we dated, we had adopted a puppy together. But people change. As the one who reported the incident, David proceeded to question me alone. “What was your relationship with the deceased, Chloe Harris?” “She’s my best friend.” I thought, he should know this without asking, considering we were all secondary school classmates, and I’ve been closest to Chloe since then. Rather than saying she was my best friend, I should say she was my only friend.

My dad was a gambling addict and a deadbeat; my mum ran an unlicensed massage shop in town. Somehow, the news leaked out, and the whole school knew, leaving no one willing to befriend me except Chloe. Having Chloe by my side made my entire youth feel less bleak. She was more important to me than my estranged parents. “What did she do for a living? Did she have any enemies?” “She was a culinary influencer. She rarely got into disputes with anyone, and I truly can’t think of anyone who would hate her enough to kill her so brutally.” As I spoke, my voice trembled, and I buried my face in my hands. “Did she have any romantic entanglements?” I racked my brain for a while, shaking my head in confusion. “I don’t know; I never really pried into her love life.” “Aren’t you best friends?” David squinted slightly. I felt a bit awkward. “Even best friends don’t share everything, do they?” David didn’t respond and continued, “What about you? What do you do for a living now?” I hesitated before replying honestly, “I just resigned recently; I’m currently unemployed.” “Why did you resign?” “David, does your line of questioning even relate to Chloe’s death, or do you suspect I’m the killer?” I felt angry, but David remained coldly objective. “Chloe died in her home; there were no signs of forced entry. The killer might have been someone she knew—someone she let in, or someone who had a key to her house.” “You mentioned when you called the police that you received a strange text from Chloe, but we didn’t find her phone at the scene.” At this point, I realized he genuinely suspected me. I let out a bitter laugh. “So you think that I, without a stable job or income, killed my friend out of jealousy because she had a better life than mine?” “Answer my question.” His tone was devoid of warmth. I relented. “Fine. I resigned because I have an anxiety disorder that makes it difficult for me to live and work normally.” I looked down, not wanting to see pity in his eyes. To be honest, his lack of trust made me feel rather down. But then again, when we were together, he never really trusted me fully either. To him, I was merely a familiar stranger; why would he believe what I said? David scrutinized me, as if trying to detect any signs of guilt or panic on my face. We sat in silence for what felt like an eternity until he suddenly pulled out an evidence bag and placed it gently on the table. “This phone is yours, isn’t it?” It was an outdated model. The screen lit up, revealing my selfie on the display. Given Chloe’s background, there was no way she would use such a cheap phone; hers had always been the latest model. I stared at the phone for a long moment before nodding. “Yes, it’s mine.” “Can you explain why your phone was found at the crime scene?” David pressed.

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My mum had been widowed for years, but all of a sudden, she turned into a hopeless romantic. She became the other woman, fully aware of the man’s marriage, and in the end, she actually succeeded in winning over a married man. After living through it once, I swore I wouldn’t let my family be her emotional collateral again. But then, she ended up killing the man she loved with her own hands. 1、 Granny sighed with both concern and frustration. “What on earth is your mum thinking? Leaving you at home with a fever like this and running off, completely neglecting you.” I lay weakly on the hospital bed. “Mum’s gone to bring food to Mr. Dean. Granny, don’t be too hard on her.” “It’s just a fever,” I muttered, trying to make excuses for her, “I’ll be fine after taking some medicine.” I was pale, my voice hoarse, yet I still defended my mum. Mr. Dean was Mum’s new match from an arranged date. After my dad passed away two years ago, Granny had introduced James Dean to her. Mum fell for James at first sight, but she had no idea he already had a wife. James’s wife, Martha, was terminally ill. She wanted to find him a good woman who could take care of him and their son after she passed. It was her dying wish. And so, James had reluctantly agreed to start dating again. As absurd as the whole situation was, Mum sympathized with James. She thought it showed he had a strong sense of responsibility. Granny had scolded everyone involved—Mum, James, and the matchmaker. If it hadn’t been for me ending up in the hospital with a fever, Granny might have never found out they were still seeing each other. Mrs. Daisy Fletcher, our neighbour, sighed as she stood nearby. “If that poor child hadn’t crawled out of the house on her own, who knows what would’ve happened.” “She hasn’t even gotten a new stepdad yet, but it seems she’s already got a new stepmum.” Granny stroked my head gently and sighed again. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I lowered my head. But inside, I was laughing coldly. In my past life, Mum had thrown one sentence at me before rushing out of the door: “Lizzy, you’re old enough now to understand. Mr. Dean needs me, and I’ve got to help him.” She’d hurried off to bring James his food, leaving me at home, burning up with a fever that wouldn’t break. I’d tried to call for an ambulance, but I couldn’t find my phone. By the time she’d taken me to the hospital, the damage was done—my brain was permanently affected, and I became… slow. But this time, I’d fought through the fever, dragged myself to the door, and crawled out into the hallway, where I was lucky enough to run into Mrs. Fletcher… The door to my hospital room creaked open, and Mum barged in, already complaining. “Mum, why didn’t anyone tell me Lizzy had been taken to the hospital?” Mrs. Fletcher, who had long lost patience with Mum, didn’t hold back, not even in front of Granny. “All you ever think about is men. You’ve got no time for your daughter, do you?” “If I hadn’t found Lizzy when I did, her brain might have been damaged beyond repair, and you’d be none the wiser.” “You’re so desperate to please that man, you don’t even care about your own daughter anymore?” Feeling the stares of everyone in the room, Mum flushed with embarrassment but stayed silent. Granny, though annoyed, tried to soften things. “Well, Lizzy said she couldn’t find her phone. Why don’t you give her a call?” Mum, quick to take the lifeline, pretended to rummage through her bag. When she finally pulled out her phone, mine tumbled out with it. A look of guilt flashed across her face. “Ah, I must’ve picked it up by mistake.” And then I understood. Mum knew full well I was burning up with a high fever. But to avoid being disturbed, she’d taken my phone, cutting off my only way to call for help. Granny immediately grasped the situation, her expression turning thunderous. Mrs. Fletcher let out a loud, cold laugh. 2、 During my hospital stay, no one treated Mum with any kindness. After the first couple of days, when she made a brief visit to see me, she spent most of her time rushing off to see James, almost forgetting I existed. Soon enough, I was discharged from the hospital. On that day, Granny made sure to call Mum, warning her to come and collect me. Mum showed up reluctantly. Thanks to Mrs. Fletcher’s talent for gossip, it wasn’t long before Mum’s affair became the talk of Maplewood Estate. As we walked in, I could hear the neighbours gossiping. “I heard from Daisy that Lizzy’s mum’s seeing someone new.” “Well, that’s her choice, but couldn’t she find someone who wasn’t married with kids? Shameful.” “When her husband was alive, he treated her so well. And now she’s neglecting poor Lizzy like this. Disgraceful.” “Ah, she’s back. Best not say more…” Mum, though fuming, couldn’t deny the truth of their words. Granny’s expression grew darker, her silence ominous like the calm before a storm. In my past life, after I became slow, Mum had played the victim, always crying about how tough life was for a widow with a daughter to raise. Everyone pitied her. No one knew that when I’d had a raging fever, Mum was busy trying to please James and his family. Back at home, Granny finally confronted Mum. “So, what’s really going on between you and James Dean?” Mum shifted uncomfortably. “James has had it hard, you know. His wife can’t bear to leave him and their son behind. He just wants to give her peace of mind.” “Mum, do you have any idea how rare it is to find such a responsible man? He’s been so good to his wife, even as she’s dying. Just think how happy we’ll be once we’re married.” “I have to help him, Mum. I can’t let him carry the burden alone.” Mum’s face radiated determination, as if she were some kind of saint. Granny’s legs wobbled, and she sank into the sofa. “This is being a homewrecker. People will talk behind your back for the rest of your life.” “James might be struggling, but what about Lizzy? Doesn’t she deserve better?” By this point, Mum had heard enough. The guilt she’d been carrying had long been replaced by irritation. “James is a single father. He has to work and look after his wife and child. He’s exhausted. I’m just helping out by bringing him food and doing a bit of housework.” “And besides, Lizzy’s fine, isn’t she?” Mum had been spoiled growing up, never having lifted a finger to do chores. Even after marriage, Dad had treated her like a queen, and she’d rarely had to do much housework. Now, out of some misplaced sense of affection, she was playing housekeeper for a man who wasn’t even her husband. What a grand display of love. Granny lost her temper and slapped Mum hard across the face. Mum clutched her cheek, stunned. Then she burst into tears, lamenting how hard it had been since Dad died. While they were distracted, I grabbed Mum’s phone and scrolled through the records. Dozens of bank transfers. Some for thousands, some for tens of thousands. All paid to the hospital. “Mum, Dad’s gone. I can’t lose you too.” Mum panicked, but I held tight, refusing to let her take the phone back. Granny’s anger dissolved as she took the phone from me, her hands trembling. She scanned the screen, reading the records carefully. Her expression softened as she squeezed Mum’s hand. “Don’t be afraid. If you’re ill, we’ll get you treated, even if we have to spend everything we have.” Mum looked down, her lips pressed together in discomfort. 3、 Granny was frantic. She immediately demanded to see Mum’s medical records. Mum, of course, had nothing to show. She stammered and fumbled for an explanation. Granny, not suspecting anything, grabbed her arm. “Come on then, we’re going to the hospital. There’s nothing to be afraid of, Mum’s here with you.” Terrified of the humiliation, Mum glared at me before finally admitting the truth. She had spent Dad’s compensation money. The day Dad died, he’d been driving by The Thames Riverbank when he spotted a child drowning. He saved the boy but didn’t have enough strength left for himself. He drowned. The boy’s parents were wealthy and influential. They gave Mum a two-million-pound compensation payment in private. She hadn’t told anyone about it. That money should have lasted her comfortably for years. But Mum’s romantic obsession had taken over. One day, she found James crying, guilt-ridden that he didn’t have enough money to treat Martha. Seeing him vulnerable, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. So, she decided to help. That was how it started, and soon she had spent over a million on his wife’s medical bills. Later, when Granny and the family struggled financially, Mum didn’t offer a single penny. I only discovered all of this after I died. My soul had wandered aimlessly, watching as Mum and James stood hand-in-hand at Martha’s grave. James had gazed at Mum with deep affection. “Thank goodness for your late husband’s inheritance, Lizzy. It made sure Martha left us with dignity. You’re an angel to our family.” Mum blushed and leaned on James’s shoulder. I had wanted to tear her apart. But my soul slowly faded away… Granny, after hearing the whole story, didn’t even seem angry anymore. Just… disappointed. In her youth, she had lived through the hardships of the post-war period and had seen plenty of men abandon their responsibilities. So, she had always taught me and Mum to love ourselves first before loving anyone else. But Mum clearly hadn’t absorbed that lesson. “Your late husband’s life paid for that money. And this is how you’ve wasted it? Even if you’ve lost your senses, how could you not think of Lizzy?” Granny dragged Mum to The Royal Bank, forcing her to transfer half of the compensation to me. That was one million pounds. I had already looked at Mum’s spending history, though. She had poured hundreds of thousands into Martha’s hospital bills. After transferring that one million, there was hardly anything left. Perhaps realising this, Mum began struggling in front of the cashier. “This is life-saving money! Why are you taking it from me?” she wailed as if she were the victim of a terrible injustice. The bank fell silent. People began taking out their phones to record us. One woman, with a face full of righteousness, stepped in front of Mum to defend her. “Girl, if you’re being wronged, just call the police. This is a law-abiding society; we’ve got nothing to fear!” Granny seemed momentarily stunned by the situation. But I quickly caught on, and my tears began to flow. “Mum, this is Dad’s compensation. Granny said it should be saved for my education. Why did you spend it all on Mr. Dean? Dad, I miss you so much. If you were here, I could go to university…” Sobs wracked my body as I struggled to speak. The people around us began whispering. Their eyes now turned suspiciously towards Mum. Mum, growing desperate, snapped, “Lizzy! Mr. Dean is my friend. What’s wrong with spending some money to help his wife?” “This is all my fault for spoiling you and making you so selfish.” I pretended to be frightened and kept my voice steady. “But you’ve already spent half a million. Last time, you even said Mr. Dean was going to be my new dad. But I don’t want him to be!” Mum, speechless, stood frozen at the counter, weeping uncontrollably. The security guard tried to calm her down, but it was no use. The bank had no choice but to call the police. When the officers arrived, I took the opportunity to speak up. “Officer, I believe my mum is being scammed.” The officers grew serious and escorted us to the police station. James Dean was also summoned. He looked every bit the part of a nondescript middle-aged man—dishevelled hair, a worn expression, and nowhere near as distinguished as Dad had been. I explained the situation simply. “I think he’s been manipulating my mum, tricking her into paying for his wife’s treatment.” Mum was even more panicked than James. “No, no! It was my choice! He didn’t trick me.” Granny glared at James with disgust. “Officer, this man has been using some kind of charm to make my daughter lose her senses. It’s like she’s not herself anymore.” The officer fixed his stern gaze on Mum. “Was this a loan or a gift?” If Mum admitted it was a gift, the police would dig deeper into the case. After all, Mum had no family ties to James, and they’d only known each other for a short time. To anyone looking, this would seem like a clear case of fraud. But James spoke first. “I borrowed it from Sarah.” I interjected. “Where’s the IOU, then?” James hesitated. “It was a verbal agreement. I’ll write one up now.” After that ordeal, Mum looked at me with a coldness that cut deep. Funny, wasn’t it? Her own daughter had become a stranger to her. In my past life, James had spent Mum’s money without a second thought, never once mentioning paying it back. Mum had been delighted, thinking it meant he didn’t see her as an outsider. With the police’s mediation, Mum reluctantly completed the transfer. Granny, not trusting her, insisted that both of us move back into her house. Mum, still bitter, refused. Later, I heard that she couldn’t stand the neighbourhood gossip anymore and had moved into James’s house. She loved him and wanted to save him. So, she began living in his house, paying the bills, doing the laundry, cooking, and looking after his children, all while covering Martha’s medical expenses. People even praised her for it, calling her a “selfless lover.” But, Mum… now that half your money’s gone, will you still be the hero? 4、 That summer, I found peace living at Granny’s house. Without Mum around to constantly drone on about James, my world was finally calm. And Granny made sure to spoil me with delicious meals every day. I was content, focused only on distancing myself from Mum and respecting the fate of others. Uncle Rob still lived with Granny as well. “Big news!” he shouted one morning, bursting into the room with a wide grin. “I finally got the job!” Uncle Rob had just finished his master’s degree and had been job-hunting for months. Ironically, the company that hired him was the same one James worked for. At the time, Martha’s health was deteriorating fast, and James was frequently taking time off to visit the hospital. It seemed like he was on the verge of being fired. Mum had pitifully begged Uncle Rob to help James with his workload. Out of sibling loyalty, Uncle Rob had agreed. But, just as in my past life, the constant overwork had taken a toll on his health. He’d worked himself into the ground with months of overtime. And then he’d dropped dead. Grief-stricken, Grandpa had a stroke, leaving him paralysed. Granny’s hair had turned white overnight. Mum had shed a few tears before returning to James’s side, taking care of him and his family, saying, “James is really struggling with everything. Someone needs to be there for him.” She had left us to handle Uncle Rob’s funeral on our own. I remembered those days vividly—Uncle Rob bringing back treats for me, Granny dressing me up in pretty clothes, and Grandpa taking me for long walks in the park. This time, I would protect my family. That day, someone had recorded Mum’s outburst at The Royal Bank and posted it on TikTok. The marketing accounts quickly picked it up, twisting the story into sensational headlines: “Woman Becomes the Other Woman for Love – What’s So Special About This Man?” “Widow Spends Her Late Husband’s Million-Pound Compensation to Save Her Lover’s Terminally Ill Wife.” The marketing accounts must have paid well because Mum actually agreed to give her side of the story, providing an audio interview for the added drama. “I don’t care if my family doesn’t understand,” she said. “Yes, I love James Dean, but I still have my dignity. I’m not some homewrecker. I just wanted to help fulfil Martha’s final wish.” “The medical bills, I paid them willingly. It was my choice. I just wanted to ease James’s burden a little. He works so hard.” “I know I’m not being scammed. Martha told me herself, before she passed, that James and his son would rely on me after she’s gone.” The interview quickly made the rounds among people who knew Mum. Soon, familiar faces began calling. Grandpa, furious, could barely contain himself. He’d always been a man of pride, and now people were mocking the family, saying we had no moral compass. Granny, too, regretted not raising Mum with more discipline. She’d believed girls should be spoiled, never made to do housework, and given the best of everything. When she’d vetted Dad, she had tested him harshly, only agreeing to the marriage because he was responsible and kind-hearted. Granny had been so sure that Mum, having experienced the best kind of love, wouldn’t fall for some shallow fling. But despite it all, Mum had gone completely off course. 5、 After the summer holidays, I entered my final year of Sixth Form. If everything went well, I could get an automatic offer to university. Returning to school was tough. I wasn’t sure I could maintain my previous academic level, but I knew I had to give it my all. I moved into the school dorms, only coming home once every two weeks. When I did, Uncle Rob joked that I was becoming a rare sight, like a national treasure. But the dark circles under his eyes told a different story. “I’ve been working for two weeks straight,” he said, rubbing his temples. “Finally got a break.” Instantly, I grew anxious and insisted that we go to the hospital for a check-up. The results were as expected—I was simply tired, but Uncle Rob’s health was riddled with problems. He hadn’t even been working that long, but he already looked like he was being ground down. Uncle Rob shrugged it off. “Every young person’s got a bit of wear and tear these days.” But I refused to take it lightly. In my past life, it was overwork that had killed him. I pressed him for details about his job, not letting him get away with vague answers. Uncle Rob hesitated for a while, then finally told me the truth about the overtime. Immediately, I ran to Grandpa and Granny to report what was happening. Granny picked up the phone and called Mum, giving her an earful. Mum broke down into sobs. “Martha’s had several close calls, Mum. James is struggling so much. He’s terrified of not being there for her final moments.” “It’s all going to be one family in the end anyway. Can’t you help me help him?” Granny couldn’t hold back the curses any longer. “Are you out of your mind? What’s James Dean got to do with us? Your brother is young, but his health is falling apart, and you don’t even care?” Mum tried to justify herself. “He’s young. He’ll recover. Mum, are you sure I’m really your daughter?”

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Chris Harper and I had been married for five years, and in that time, he had dated at least ten girlfriends. So when Lily Parker showed up at his side, my friends all told me: “Chris is just having fun. Don’t take it seriously.” But I knew better. Chris was serious this time. More serious than anyone realized. “Hey, I heard it’s your wedding anniversary with Chris today.” “How about we make a bet? Let’s see who can keep Chris. Whoever loses will gracefully step aside.” That popped up in my text messages. It was a challenge from Lily Parker, Chris’s new girlfriend. I thought it was childish, so I didn’t respond. Instead, I smiled and returned to the Grand Ballroom at The Waldorf Astoria, where all eyes were on the star of the night. Chris noticed me immediately and smiled as he walked over, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You don’t look well.” Our friends nearby cheered us on, saying how Chris and I were still as in love as ever, how our marriage had withstood the test of time. Some joked, urging Chris to treat me well and not regret anything later. Chris navigated the crowd effortlessly, like a fish in water. I stayed by his side, the perfect accessory, putting on the appropriate smile. Halfway through the night, the host grabbed the microphone and invited Chris to come up and say a few words. Chris nodded and turned to me. “I have a gift for you,” he said. I smiled back. “Great.” The next second, his phone rang. The ringtone was jarring. Chris paused, hesitant, but after a moment, he continued toward the stage, picked up the microphone, and finished his greetings to the crowd. His eyes then locked onto mine. “Today is our fifth wedding anniversary.” “You once mentioned liking an island.” “I bought it for you as an anniversary gift.” His assistant handed him a contract, but as soon as it was in his hands, the phone rang again. The ringtone cut through the atmosphere like a knife, and I saw a flash of panic in Chris’s eyes. I turned to look behind me, and my heart skipped a beat. Standing on the outskirts of the crowd was the girl from the profile picture—the one I’d seen in the text message. She stood there, holding her phone, silently mouthing, “Answer it.” Her eyes were bright, but there was a faint mist over them. She mouthed the words again, “Answer the call.” Against my better judgment, I turned back toward Chris. The contract slipped from Chris’s hands as he answered the call. The girl’s voice, strained with emotion, echoed through the ballroom. “Chris.” “I’m breaking up with you.” There was a pause, then she dropped the bomb. “And I’m getting rid of this baby.” “Chris,” she continued in a soft, broken voice. “I don’t want you anymore.” And then, she hung up. The whole room went silent. No one noticed the girl in the simple white dress turning to leave after delivering her message. But Chris did. Not only did he notice, but without hesitation, he threw down the microphone and rushed out of the ballroom. The girl’s earlier challenge echoed in my mind: How about we make a bet? Let’s see who can keep Chris. Suddenly panicked, I lost all sense of decorum. Lifting the hem of my dress, I ran after him. I grabbed his hand, pleading, “Don’t go.” “Chris.” “Please, don’t leave.” I had always been composed, always the graceful Mrs. Harper. I was the girl Chris picked out of all the others in the foster care home, the one he chose to be the wife of the Harper family. I was the one who stayed by his side, even though I knew that our relationship was based more on years of growing up together than on passion. Yet, despite it all, I had fallen hopelessly in love with him. “Chris.” Tears streamed down my face. My voice broke. “Please, don’t leave.”

I held onto Chris’s hand so tightly that I was shaking. Then, I saw the disappointment in his eyes as he turned to face me. “Sarah,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “She’s different from you. She has nothing without me.” “You have everything,” Chris said, gently prying my fingers off. “But she only has me.” He let go of my hand. I fell to the floor, my newly done nails scraping against the carpet, splitting open as blood welled up from the cuts. The pain left me speechless. Chris hesitated for a moment when he saw me on the ground, but then, he turned and walked away. I couldn’t stop him, and I became the joke of the evening. Everyone tried to comfort me. “Chris is just used to running wild. He’s always had his flings.” “If he was going to settle down, he would have done it already.” “Sarah, don’t be upset. You and Chris grew up together. You’ve got years of history. No one can replace that.” “That girl’s just trying to use the baby to climb her way up. You’ve seen girls like her before. Don’t let it bother you.” Everyone kept telling me not to take it seriously. That Chris was just playing around. They told me not to invest my emotions. Some even suggested that I should play the same game, act weak, and beat the other woman at her own game. Everyone had an excuse for Chris. No one wanted to admit that Chris had actually fallen for her. But I knew. Chris was more invested than he’d ever been. The party ended early, and when I got home, Chris still wasn’t back. The maid had already made ginger tea and left it on the dining table. Beside it was a bouquet of roses Chris had bought earlier. The vibrant red of the roses only made me feel more pathetic in the quiet night. I went to the bedroom and saw our wedding photo. For a moment, I felt dazed. I walked over to the nightstand, took down the photo, and began cutting it into pieces with a pair of scissors. Then I smashed everything in the carefully decorated room in a fit of rage. Finally, I collapsed on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. I cried until midnight, when the room was pitch dark. The only light came from my phone, the screen piercing my eyes. I opened the message. It was from Lily. A picture of her and Chris holding hands. Then, a voice message. And some text. The voice message was their conversation. She asked him, “When you left your wife behind, do you think she’ll blame you? Am I being too selfish, forgetting my place?” Without hesitation, Chris responded, “No one is more important than you.” “As long as you’re okay.” “That’s all that matters.” Chris’s voice felt like a thousand needles piercing my body. My chest tightened in pain as I read Lily’s text. You lost. Chris doesn’t love you. Give up your place as Mrs. Harper. Don’t make this messier than it has to be. Chris didn’t come home that night. I didn’t care anymore. I’d cried myself dry. The years we spent growing up together were over, and I was the only one left clinging to the past. It was laughable. As I packed my bags to leave, my phone rang. Chris’s voice came through, hoarse. “Sarah, Lily’s young and immature. You’ve always been the understanding one, but last night, you really crossed the line.” “How could you embarrass me like that?” “I don’t want this to happen again.”

I used to love hearing Chris’s voice. My father was a gambler, and after he lost everything, he tried to force my mother to sell herself to pay off his debts. She refused, and one stormy night, she fled with me. My father chased us through the streets with a knife. In the end, she hid me in a trash bin at the alleyway’s edge, and I watched as my father hacked her to death that night. The downpour. The endless lightning. And my father’s eerie whistling, coaxing me out. Those moments haunted my nightmares for years. Every time there was a thunderstorm, Chris would hold me tight, gently patting my back, whispering, “Sarah, don’t be scared.” “I’m here.” For those years, Chris became my only emotional anchor. Naturally, he became the only light in my life. But last night, even with the storm raging outside and lightning flashing, Chris wasn’t the one comforting me anymore. He’d forgotten that I get scared, forgotten that I need someone too. He could wake up the next morning without any remorse, blaming me for making him look bad. If love is something that builds over time, then not loving is like flipping an hourglass. My hand trembled as I held my phone, staring at the now-clear sky, tears still spilling, my chest aching. But I had to maintain my dignity. I had to hold onto what little composure I had left. So I said to Chris: “The divorce papers are on the table.” “I’ll only take what’s rightfully mine. Nothing more.” Before he could respond, I hung up. I blocked his number and deleted his contact, breathing heavily as I realized that cutting ties with someone you’ve loved for so long was like weaning a child off milk. But that’s okay. I was willing to let time heal me. I was ready to move forward. I’d booked the next available flight. To Portland, Maine. The place I’d once dreamed of moving to with Chris, where I’d imagined us living a simple life. I had asked him once, naively, if we could ever just be a regular couple, living in a small town together until we grew old. Chris had laughed at my innocence but then turned serious. “I don’t want to be ordinary.” “Small-town life comes with no room for error, no risks to take.” “I want to be somebody.” “I want to make you somebody, someone everyone looks up to.” Back then, Chris seemed to glow like a hero—a real-life hero, at least to me. He achieved everything he set out to do. Even though he drifted through countless flings during our five years of marriage, no one dared to speak ill of me. He always protected me, never letting me get hurt by the women who came and went. We had an unspoken agreement. I would fulfill my role as Mrs. Harper, and he would always keep me in the most important spot in his life. That was enough. But I had forgotten something. Human nature is easily tempted. And when a new woman lights a fire in Chris, the flames will spread uncontrollably. My once-brave knight no longer fought for me but instead turned his sword toward me. I chose not to fight back. I chose to walk away, giving them what they wanted. And giving myself the freedom I needed.

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My mother favored my cousin and sent me away to a strict boarding school for “character building.” I was kidnapped, lost my legs to a cruel old man, and she remained indifferent. Only after death did I learn that she and my uncle were high school sweethearts, secretly involved for nearly twenty years. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to being six years old. I burst into the bedroom, exposing their affair, and immediately spread the news around the neighborhood. Mom panicked, while I was overjoyed. This time, I’ll make you pay for your sins! I was reborn, back to when I was six years old. The moment I realized I had been reborn, I sent the nanny away and tiptoed to open the bedroom door. Just as I thought! I saw my uncle Garrett naked, on top of a woman. The pearl bracelet on her wrist clearly revealed her identity – my mother! No wonder in my previous life, she had hired a nanny specifically for me, watching me 24/7, taking care of my every need. Later, she even sent me to a strict boarding school, claiming it was to “build character.” Eight years later, when I saw my mother again, I was in a hospital gown, sobbing as I rushed towards her, only to be pushed away. The disgust and embarrassment on her face made me doubt if I was even her child. It wasn’t until after I died that I learned the truth – she was afraid I might accidentally expose their affair, so she tried every way to keep me away! How about you taste the fear of public shame? In the bedroom were the intertwined shadows of a man and a woman. Looking at the condom wrapper on the floor, I picked it up, fighting back nausea, and ran excitedly to the neighborhood playground. “Look! I found a new balloon!” I shouted. A group of children gathered around me, asking all at once: “You’re lying! That’s not a balloon! My mom says it’s a bad thing! Throw it away!” “Eww, why is there so much goo inside?” Adults nearby also came over. Seeing what I was holding, their faces changed: “Aria, where did you get that? Don’t rummage through the trash!” “Aria, throw it away now!” I obediently did as they said, wiping my fingers on my clothes several times before raising my voice in feigned disappointment: “Mom and Uncle Garrett were playing with this balloon in the room and told me to go away. So I secretly took one, but it turns out it’s broken!”

As soon as I finished speaking, the elderly folks exercising nearby gathered around. The grandmas who had been chatting moments ago now focused intently on me, while parents hurriedly shooed their children away. “Your mom and your uncle? Are you sure you didn’t see wrong?” I stomped my foot as if angered, staring at the person who spoke, my childish voice making it impossible not to believe me: “How could I see wrong! They weren’t just playing with balloons, they were also playing a stacking game, with their backs to me, telling me to go away. They wouldn’t play with me. It’s so mean!” Someone in the crowd let out a snicker, followed by endless “pfft” and “haha” sounds. Mrs. Johnson, the most popular resident in our gated community, grabbed my hand and asked earnestly: “Aria, tell us more clearly so we can believe you. Then we can help teach your mom a lesson!” Hearing this, I was delighted. Teach her a lesson? I couldn’t wait! “I saw Uncle Garrett lying on top of Mom playing the stacking game. They messed up the whole bed, but… Mrs. Johnson, why do they have to be naked to play the stacking game?” Everyone suddenly had meaningful looks on their faces, exchanging glances and smiles, all seeming to understand. “What? Bullying our little Aria! We must have a word with them!” With that, Mrs. Johnson led a large group of people marching towards our house. Just before reaching the staircase, Mrs. Johnson called out: “Vanessa! Why are you angry with the child? Look, the poor thing is soaked in sweat!” Her footsteps quickened, “I’m coming up to get some clothes for the child!” The half-closed door was pushed open. The man was putting on his clothes, his bare upper body covered in sweat and scratch marks. The woman was wearing a dress, her eyes moist and face flushed. There was also an indescribable smell in the room. Everyone immediately understood what was going on, watching the drama unfold before their eyes. Mom clutched her chest and screamed, “Who told you to come in without knocking? This is trespassing, don’t you know?” Mrs. Johnson covered her eyes and exclaimed, “Oh my, at least put on some clothes before talking!” Someone couldn’t hold back, and suddenly the room was filled with stifled laughter.

My mom’s face turned beet red, while Uncle Garrett, now fully dressed, stood stiffly by the bed, his head hanging so low it almost touched the ground. I couldn’t help but smirk. Indeed, the most vicious wolves often wear sheep’s clothing. Uncle Garrett was financially dependent on his wife’s family. Usually timid and submissive, even his own son could walk all over him. Who would have thought he was the one who had fooled our entire family? “Her brother passed away, and Vanessa still let her husband live with her sister-in-law. I said it wasn’t appropriate. Look what happened, they ended up together!” someone in the crowd muttered. The words rang clearly in the silent room. Uncle Garrett silently tried to slip into the bathroom, but the gossip-hungry crowd wouldn’t let him leave. They held him back, asking in a friendly tone, “Garrett, what were you doing in Vanessa’s room? Are those red marks on your neck from mosquito bites?” Garrett kept his mouth shut, not saying a word. My mom, however, flew into a rage, throwing pillows from the bed at us one by one: “Get out! All of you get out! This is my house! You didn’t see anything! Don’t you dare say a word!” Only then did everyone leave, whispering and gossiping. No doubt this story would soon spread throughout the entire community. The door closed tightly, and their gazes fell on me – one furious, one vicious. “It’s all because of you! You little brat! Bringing them all here! Where’s Fiona? How was she watching you?” I was knocked down by a slap, and Mom grabbed my neck, asking hoarsely. The choking sensation in my throat brought no pain, only familiarity – Every time I made her angry, every time something didn’t go her way, she would use me as a punching bag. Once, I was almost strangled to death. In my previous life, I had also caught them having an affair and asked at the dinner table what they were doing in bed. The next day, I was sent to a strict boarding school under the guise of “character building,” to prevent me from saying anything in front of my aunt and others. My cousin had also heard it at the dinner table, and they decided to send Lucas to “toughen up” as well.

That was the beginning of all my nightmares. Later, I was tricked away, forced to be a child bride in someone else’s home, sleeping on grass, doing the work of oxen, and fighting with pigs for food. I was dragged to a pigsty by an old pervert in the village and molested. In my dazed state, I was caught in a hay baler, losing both my legs. It wasn’t until I made the local news that my aunt found out about all this and sent her people to find me. After returning home, I cried to my mother about the miserable experiences of those years, lamenting my lost legs. Mom just carelessly admired her new manicure, saying as if listening to a play, “Sounds like you had quite an adventure out there.” I was incredulous. In my emotional state, I couldn’t control my body, and urine spread beneath me, making her scream in disgust, calling me revolting. I grabbed her clothes, not letting her leave, but I fell to the ground. The filth under my hands and the pain in my body were nothing compared to the despair brought by her leaving without looking back. “Why, Mom? I’m your daughter!” I even secretly did a DNA test, which showed she was indeed my mother. The physical disability, the pain of not being able to take care of myself, the frustration of being illiterate – all of it plunged me into an emotional quagmire. Would Mom not be so disgusted with me if I were normal? Later, I actively worked on rehabilitation and studied hard. After coming of age, I took over the shares my father had left behind and formed a strong alliance with my aunt, who was expanding the business overseas. Mom started treating me with a smile, and I seemed to have a successful career and a happy family. Only I knew how many suicide attempts were hidden in the scars on my disgusting stumps and my scarred wrists. I could never get love. Even my cousin, who excelled in gambling and debauchery, could get the true love of Mom and Uncle Garrett. Why couldn’t I? It wasn’t until I died and became a spirit that I learned the truth. Mom and Uncle Garrett were high school sweethearts. They were just waiting for my cousin to grow up and my aunt to pass away so they could take over the company. They actually did it – they caused my aunt’s death, made my cousin listen only to them, and even brought back their own biological son. No wonder! No wonder! The year that child was born was the year I was kidnapped! While they were rejoicing in the birth of a new life, I was crawling and crying in darkness. “If you had another chance, could you change all this?” I heard a question from the depths of my soul. “I want them to suffer a fate worse than death!”

“It’s my fault for not watching Aria closely. Punish me!” Fiona’s voice pulled me out of my memories. I saw Mom and Uncle Garrett, dressed as impeccably as always, looking down at Fiona and me with unconcealed contempt and disgust in their eyes. “Get out, all of you!” Fiona carried me out of the room, applying medicine to my face with a worried expression. “Aria, why did you provoke her? Didn’t I tell you not to say anything in front of her? Oh dear, your face is all swollen.” Looking at her young face, I remembered that in my previous life, she blamed herself for not taking good care of me, leading to my kidnapping. She had resolutely devoted herself to the cause of finding missing children. After I was found, she took care of me meticulously, enduring all my unbearable behavior. “It’s okay, Fiona. Don’t cry,” I wiped the tears from her face. In this life, I won’t give those two scumbags any chance. Sure enough, gossip spreads faster than anything else. Even on my way to and from school, I could feel people whispering and looking at me with surprise and schadenfreude. I also became the center of attention in kindergarten – “Aria, is your uncle going to be your new daddy?” “Then you’ll have a new brother, right? That’s not good at all. I hate having a brother.” The innocent words of the children made me laugh, but they also revealed the information adults had been spreading. Having an affair with your brother-in-law was something the people in our community couldn’t accept. The aunties who used to play cards and go to beauty salons with Mom no longer called. Uncle Garrett didn’t even dare to leave the house, probably concocting some excuse to fool my aunt. Moreover, the residents of this community were either rich or powerful. The Ye Corporation was just an ordinary presence among them. They had only been extra kind to us because they pitied my aunt Imogen for losing her brother. Now they would avoid us like the plague, some even forbidding their children from playing with me. With an adult’s soul, I naturally didn’t care, but my cousin Lucas was different. He threw a tantrum in front of Mom and Uncle Garrett, rolling on the floor demanding they play with him. Uncle Garrett waved his hand grandly, “Lucas, do you want to see little ducklings? How about we go to Daddy’s hometown to see little pigs and ducklings?”

My cousin and I were sent to the village, but unlike my previous life, this time Fiona didn’t come with me. Before leaving, Fiona sewed a pocket inside my jacket and filled it with change. “Aria, if you can’t get used to the food there, remember to buy some snacks. Don’t go hungry.” When we first arrived, the villagers were all very nice to us. Even though Uncle Garrett’s mother didn’t take much care of us, she ensured we had three meals a day. However, I still went to the general store to buy things, quietly waiting for that moment to come. “Callum, come home for dinner!” someone called. A child next to me asked, “Aria, why doesn’t Callum have the same last name as Uncle Garrett?” “Because his dad is the bride who married into our family!” I replied. Callum angrily pounced on me, the strength of a four-year-old already too much for me to struggle free. “You bitch! My dad is not a bride!” I fought back, and we started wrestling. “Quick, go call Grandma!” The other kids all ran home to call for help, leaving only me and my cousin fighting at the edge of the woods. Suddenly, someone picked us up, one in each hand. It was him! Without hesitation, I took out the small knife from my pocket, seized the opportunity to slash him, and ran into the woods as he let go. Callum! It’s your turn this time! In my previous life, I had a chance to escape but didn’t have the heart to leave him behind when I heard him crying. I never imagined that the moment he was released, he would push me towards the kidnapper and run away himself! That moment of betrayal was etched in my memory, never to be forgotten. Later, I was sold to a mountain village, forced to be a wife to a mentally disabled man. Daily chores and beatings were common. I ate their leftovers, and on unlucky days, I could only lick the sauce from the bottom of their bowls or fight with livestock for pig feed. As I grew older, a nearly seventy-year-old widower in the village tried to take advantage of me. He dragged me to the fields to torture me, using the roar of a hay baler to cover the sounds. It was during that struggle that I lost my legs. When I woke up again, I was in a hospital. Looking at the emptiness below half of my thighs, I couldn’t process it. “Your legs were caught in the hay baler. Luckily, the machine malfunctioned and broke down, or it would have been questionable if you’d even survive.” “When we were matching blood types, we discovered you were listed as a missing person. Your family is on their way.” And so, at the cost of my disability, I escaped that hell.

In this life, Callum was kidnapped by the trafficker. I hid in the woods until the villagers came looking for us. “It’s terrible! Callum was taken away by a strange man! I couldn’t catch up with him!” I was brought back home. My mom cursed me all day, saying why couldn’t it have been me who was taken away. As she spoke, she and Uncle Garrett hugged each other for comfort. They seemed to have stopped hiding it altogether, going out on dates and trips together shamelessly, leaving me alone at home with Fiona. “Fiona, has Aunt Imogen said when she’s coming back?” I had Fiona call my aunt abroad immediately, telling her about the affair and Callum’s disappearance. Unfortunately, Aunt Imogen was in the middle of a big project and only instructed her assistant to file a police report and search for Callum. I wasn’t surprised by her coldness. In my previous life, even when Callum lost millions gambling and attended parties every day, she would only cut off his allowance. I used to think she was heartless, but after I died, she was the only one who cried for me. A week later, I came home from school as usual and saw Aunt Imogen standing on the second floor of the house. I approached curiously, only then hearing the chaotic sounds from the room. “Aria, go back to your room and don’t come out.” I went back to my room but didn’t listen to her. I left the door ajar and used a mirror to peek. I saw Aunt Imogen holding up her phone, seemingly recording video as she pushed open the door. Then there was a commotion, Mom’s screams, Uncle Garrett’s repentance, and the rustling of clothes being put on. “Garrett, let’s get a divorce.” Aunt Imogen’s voice was very calm, without a hint of sadness or anger. As an outsider, I couldn’t help but wonder – was there ever any real affection between them? “Imogen, it’s not what you think. It’s… it’s her who couldn’t stand the loneliness and seduced me. I was just confused for a moment. I’ve always loved you!” Uncle Garrett explained desperately, his tone as if the sky was falling. I couldn’t help but admire his acting skills. As expected of a professional freeloader. Hearing this, Mom cursed Uncle Garrett for slandering her, then cried about how she had remained faithful to my father for so many years without remarrying, how she had given birth to the eldest daughter for the Ye family, implying that even if she had no merit, she had suffered. Her words were all about money and shares. In her emotional state, she actually fainted.

“Vanessa, you’re two months pregnant,” Aunt Imogen calmly told my mom. I saw surprise, panic, and finally feigned regret and sorrow flash across Uncle Garrett’s face. “Imogen, this is all an accident. I didn’t mean to…” “Stop pretending, Garrett. Can’t you see she doesn’t care? She didn’t even care when Callum went missing, let alone about you!” Vanessa interrupted Uncle Garrett, looking smugly at Aunt Imogen. Ignoring Uncle Garrett’s attempts to stop her, she blurted out: “Since you’ve found out anyway, we won’t hide it anymore. Give me the shares your brother left before he died, and give Garrett half of your assets. We’ll leave immediately.” Aunt Imogen seemed to have heard a joke and smiled, “My brother left all his estate to Aria long before he passed away. As for Garrett and me, we signed a prenuptial agreement. He knows that.” Uncle Garrett’s face had turned ashen, but he still struggled desperately, “Callum, Callum can’t be without a father.” “It’s fine, I’ll find him a stepfather,” Aunt Imogen replied. Hearing Aunt Imogen walking towards the door, I quietly returned to my room. “Aria, would you be okay with Fiona taking care of you from now on?” Aunt Imogen knelt down to look at me. I nodded, but couldn’t help asking, “What about my brother? Aren’t you worried about him, Aunt Imogen?” A flash of disgust crossed Aunt Imogen’s face, but she didn’t lie to me, “Your brother has a genetic condition that scientists say can make people become bad. I don’t like him.” So that’s why! In my previous life, when I was found and gave my statement to the police, I discovered that my brother had never mentioned his experience of encountering the kidnapper with me, nor had he provided any clues. When I confronted Callum, he turned the tables on me, asking if I had ill intentions and wanted him to be kidnapped too. Mom and Uncle Garrett hid him behind them, looking at me with hatred. As if I were some kind of trafficking criminal. Later, when I learned he was involved in drugs and gambling, I thought it was because of Uncle Garrett’s indulgence. I never imagined it was a genetic issue! “I don’t like him either. He often hits me,” I smiled at Aunt Imogen, but couldn’t help testing her, “Does Aunt Imogen like me?” Aunt Imogen hugged me, “How could I not like Aria? You’re our Ye family’s precious treasure!”

Mom and Uncle Garrett, no, I should say Vanessa and Garrett, were kicked out of the Ye family. Aunt Imogen didn’t go to extremes. She gave them enough wealth that ordinary people would dream of, sufficient for them to live comfortably into old age. I started elementary school and, thanks to my memories from my previous life, I skipped grades repeatedly. By the age of twelve, I was already in high school. I showed a unique sensitivity to the market, and Aunt Imogen agreed to let me audit company affairs. After I offered several key insights, I gained everyone’s recognition. At a young age, I led the Ye Corporation’s domestic business to double in size. This also lightened the burden on Aunt Imogen, who now frequently returned to the country to see me. Through our interactions, I gradually came to understand Aunt Imogen – She was not only cold on the outside and warm on the inside, but also had a strong sense of responsibility. Every year on my father’s death anniversary, she would take me to pay respects, reminiscing about her childhood moments with her brother. Miss Jones “When we were young, you said we’d team up and crush other companies. Now your daughter has done it, but it’s a pity you can’t see it,” she would always say, with a hint of unfulfilled regret. The year I successfully entered the country’s top university at fifteen, the Ye Corporation had already become the leading enterprise in the area, and I was respectfully referred to as “Young Miss Jones.” My college admission celebration also invited many CEOs, all praising me for my achievements at such a young age. “Miss, there’s a man and a woman outside begging to see you. They say they’re your mother and uncle,” an assistant informed me. I raised an eyebrow, gave a few quiet instructions, then picked up my wine glass and continued chatting and laughing with the guests. After the party ended, I went to the storage room. “Miss, they’re tied up inside,” the assistant reported.

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To avoid harassment from my ex-boyfriend, I planned to stay at my brother’s apartment for a few days. I didn’t expect to be blocked at the door by my brother’s girlfriend, who then slapped me hard across the face. She spoke to me in a sarcastic tone, “Wow, what a boundary-less sister-in-law! How dare you stay in your brother’s place?” “A total deadbeat, not working hard to help Nathan earn a dowry, just sleeping in all day.” “You must be messing around out there, which is why your boyfriend dumped you…” Seriously?! What a psycho! This property title is in my name, okay? My brother Nathan Freitt is seven years younger than me and currently in college. Six months ago, he asked if he could borrow my two-bedroom apartment in Chapel Hill because his roommate snores and keeps him up at night. Since the place was sitting empty, I gave him two spare keys and told him to stay in the guest room and not to enter my room. He eagerly agreed. A couple of days ago, I discovered that my ex-boyfriend cheated on me. After the breakup, he kept showing up outside my office building and my apartment complex every day. To get some peace, I handed over my work to my assistant and decided to stay at my brother’s place for a while. On Thursday afternoon at 4 PM, Nathan should still be in class, so I didn’t tell him and just dragged my suitcase over. But to my surprise, I found that no matter how hard I tried, my key wouldn’t unlock the door. Could Nathan have changed the locks without telling me? Just as I was about to pull out my phone to ask Nathan what was going on, the door suddenly clicked open. Standing there was a girl with perfect makeup, wearing a cute, fuzzy pink bunny onesie. That onesie looked familiar; it seemed like something I had bought as a spare. But right now, I didn’t have time to figure out why this girl was wearing what looked like my pajamas. What I really needed to know was why she was in my home! As I frowned at her, she looked me up and down with an expression that was anything but friendly. “Hi…” I tried to ask what was going on, but she interrupted me. “Are you serious?! You’re here trying to break into my house? Do you think I won’t call the cops and have you arrested?” ??? I stood there, confused and taken aback. Just as I pulled off my scarf to show my face and understand what was happening, I felt a sharp sting on my left cheek. At the same moment, the door slammed shut, sending a breeze across my burning face. I was seething with anger as I took out my phone. My gut told me this was all Nathan’s doing. [Me: Nathan, what did you do with my house?!] [Nathan: Sis? What’s wrong?] [Me: I just got slapped by a woman in my pajamas who’s in my house.] [Nathan: Why did you show up so suddenly?] [Me: You better explain this to me quickly.] Nathan seemed surprised and panicked, taking a few minutes to respond. [Nathan: Sis, there’s probably a misunderstanding. I had my girlfriend open the door for you. I’ll explain when I get back from class; don’t be mad.] Don’t be mad? How am I supposed to not be mad after being slapped and locked out of my own house? Wait… girlfriend? Nathan is dating someone? And they’re living together? In my house?!

I waited outside for another ten minutes, but Nathan’s girlfriend still didn’t come to let me in. As a graduate from a prestigious university who started a successful business with my best friend, I was now a bona fide female CEO. With my impressive grades and affluent background, I had always been pampered growing up. It was the first time someone had disrespected me like this, and I couldn’t just let it go. Unfortunately, I really couldn’t get into the house, so I dragged my suitcase to a coffee shop downstairs to wait for Nathan. During this time, Nathan kept sending me apology messages. [Nathan: Sis, she definitely didn’t mean it; don’t be mad.] [Nathan: There must be some misunderstanding; just calm down.] I ignored him. An hour later, a disheveled Nathan rushed into the coffee shop, scanning the room until he quickly spotted me in the corner. He approached me with a smile plastered on his face. “My lovely, charming sister, I knew you wouldn’t be upstairs, so I figured you’d be here!” Nathan grabbed my suitcase, saying, “Let’s go, Sis.” I shot him a glare, my anger bubbling under the surface, and followed him upstairs. In the elevator, Nathan kept trying to charm me. “Sis, I just got back and had a talk with Amber. Don’t be mad; don’t stoop to her level.” Seeing him like this, I could understand; after all, they were supposed to be enjoying their time together as a couple, and me showing up probably made things awkward for them. But this girl was taking it a bit too far. I decided that if she apologized sincerely, I could overlook this whole incident. Nathan quickly agreed. Once we entered the apartment, I found Amber lounging on the sofa, her bare feet propped up on the coffee table I had meticulously chosen during renovations. She was munching on sunflower seeds and watching some reality show, laughing out loud from time to time. Sunflower seed shells were scattered everywhere, and there were piles of orange peels and several empty soda cans on the table. The elegant artwork that once hung in the living room had been replaced with posters of boy bands I didn’t even recognize. I couldn’t believe this was the apartment I had handed over to Nathan. “Amber, this is my sister, Jessica,” Nathan said, giving her a knowing glance before turning to me with a nervous smile. “Jessica, this is my girlfriend, Amber Johnson.” I regarded the girl before me, who was practically the definition of rude. “Hi, sister,” Amber said, barely looking at me. “I asked you to let my sister in; why didn’t you?” Nathan asked her, glancing nervously at my expression. “And about that misunderstanding, hurry up and apologize to my sister!” Only then did Amber glance my way. After scanning between me and Nathan, she smirked, “I didn’t realize your sister liked to wear matching scarves with you!” That’s when I noticed Nathan was wearing the scarf I had given him. I hadn’t purposely given him that scarf; it was a mix-up when I ordered a couple online. The seller mistakenly sent me two, and since I didn’t want to deal with returning it, I just kept both. I had planned to give the extra one to my best friend, but Nathan had seen it and said he needed one, so I just handed it over. Siblings wearing matching scarves isn’t that strange, right? And because of this, I was slapped and locked out of my own home? Unbelievable…

After hearing that explanation, I could somewhat understand Amber’s actions; she probably thought I was a homewrecker. She was just a bit petty, being in the honeymoon phase of her relationship, so I forced myself to be understanding. I turned to Nathan and asked why he had changed the locks. If my key had worked, none of this would have happened, and I wouldn’t have gotten slapped for no reason. Nathan hesitated before explaining, “Well… I forgot my keys at school the other day and had to call a locksmith. For safety’s sake, I had the locks changed.” Amber chimed in sarcastically, “Who would feel safe knowing someone else has a key to our place?” The only keys to this apartment, besides Nathan’s, are mine. Not even our parents have a key. This is my house; am I an outsider? She really doesn’t see herself as an outsider? Seeing I was about to explode, Nathan quickly jumped in to defend Amber. “Hey, sis, don’t think too much about it. Amber just meant the locksmith.” Looking at Nathan’s panicked defense of Amber, it was clear he really liked her. Nathan was twenty years old, and this was the first time I realized he was dating someone. Oh well, as long as he likes her. Amber probably just had low emotional intelligence and a lack of manners. Besides, it’s not like I’d be living with her; if Nathan can handle it, that’s all that matters. I didn’t say anything and pulled my suitcase toward the master bedroom. The door was open, revealing a messy space filled with signs of life. Before I moved out, I had left an entire set of unopened La Mer skincare products on my vanity, but now it was all used up. The clothes, shoes, bags, and jewelry I had prepared in the closet had all been used, and given that Amber was wearing my pajamas, it was clear that Nathan and Amber had moved into my room. “Amber, since Nathan calls you that, I’ll call you that too,” I said, peeking into the master bedroom with a polite smile. “If you need skincare products, clothes, shoes, bags, or jewelry, just let me know. I can give you some that suit you, but using my things without permission—how am I supposed to use them when I arrive?” Surprisingly, Amber didn’t show any sign of remorse or intent to apologize. Instead, she looked at me and said, “You’re so calculating.” “Well, you’re not married yet. No matter how much you earn, it’s all for Nathan’s wedding. I’m his girlfriend, so everything here technically belongs to me, right?” I swear I’ve never met someone as shameless as Amber. Not a person, but a whole different species! Nathan rushed over to pull me into the master bedroom, whispering, “Sis, Amber’s upbringing is rough. Her family favors boys over girls, so she’s a bit starved for love. Don’t take it too personally!” I held back my frustration and ordered Nathan, “Quick, gather your things and move them to the guest room!” Nathan nodded eagerly, “Okay, okay!” As Nathan moved their things from the master bedroom to the guest room, Amber repeatedly tried to say something but was stopped by Nathan’s glare. She then plopped down on the sofa and started rolling her eyes dramatically. I was worried she might actually flip herself over.

I thought Amber would finally calm down. After all, I was only planning to stay a few days. If I weren’t allergic to pet hair, I would’ve gone to my best friend’s place directly, but her boyfriend’s dog was temporarily staying there, so I had to come here. I didn’t mind Nathan dating; I was too busy to keep tabs on them. With my relentless encouragement, Nathan had developed impressive cooking skills, so naturally, he prepared dinner. The table was filled with all my favorite dishes: Southern-style pork, sweet and sour ribs, roasted chicken, stir-fried chives and eggs, cauliflower with ham, braised lamb, and my favorite spicy shrimp! “Eating so heavy at night? No wonder you got dumped!” “Why are there chives? They get stuck in your teeth!” “Nathan! Why did you make lamb? The smell is unbearable!” As soon as the dishes were served, Nathan hadn’t even had a chance to take off his apron when Amber started picking food off the plate and shoving it into her mouth. While we weren’t a rich family, we still had decent manners. I frowned slightly at Amber’s behavior but said nothing. Everyone comes from different backgrounds, and lifestyle habits vary; those can change over time. Hearing Amber complain, I thought maybe Nathan overlooked her tastes since he wanted to impress me and had ignored what she liked. Just as I was about to reprimand Nathan for his lack of etiquette, he spoke up. “Didn’t you ask for at least two meat and two vegetable dishes for dinner? It’s been a while since my sister ate my cooking, so I made a few extra dishes.” “Didn’t you say eating chives is good for your health and you should have them every day?” “Didn’t you say yesterday you wanted to eat braised lamb?” Oh, great! So this whole dinner was a subtle attack aimed at me! Under Nathan’s silent pleading, I decided not to stoop to Amber’s level and put on some disposable gloves to start peeling shrimp. Maybe I hadn’t given Amber the reaction she was hoping for because, after just a few bites, she started acting up again. “Nathan, I want shrimp!” Nathan patiently peeled a few shrimp and placed them on her plate. “This girl needs peeled shrimp; peeling shrimp herself is too low-class!” Was that a direct jab at me? If I cater to you, I might as well take your last name! But before I could swallow my shrimp and say anything, I witnessed something that shocked me to my core.

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After a month of relentless heat and drought, the temperature finally began to drop. Karen, my neighbor, saw me moving out and sneered, “What’s this? Finally decided to get lost?” Little did she know that our neighborhood was about to become an isolated zone of high-temperature acid rain. Those who couldn’t escape were doomed to die. I woke up from a nightmare, the pain of acid rain corroding my skin and bones still lingering, causing me to shiver uncontrollably. In the dream, a strange acid rain fell, residents scattered to escape, only to find that the neighborhood was covered by an invisible dome. Those inside couldn’t get out, and those outside couldn’t get in. I’ve always had a habit of hoarding things, so I could barely manage with the food I had at home. Karen, the neighbor downstairs, had a good relationship with me, so when I heard her plea for food, I immediately opened the door. But I never expected that Karen’s family was waiting at the door. As soon as I opened a crack, they violently pushed their way in. They ransacked my stored food and drinking water, tied me up, and pushed me out of the building. The acid rain fell on my body, corroding my skin into blisters. I cried out in pain and despair in the rain, trying to awaken a shred of conscience in them. They just gave me a cold look, “You little bitch, you were hiding quite a lot! It’s enough for our family to live on for a while!” My voice gradually grew weaker. The laughter of Karen’s family was still piercing, mixing with the sound of rain to form a horrifying symphony. Since heaven has given me this chance, I must survive at all costs.

After graduating from college, I went to work in another city. My parents, wanting me to live comfortably, bought a small two-bedroom apartment near my workplace. On the first day I moved in, Karen, the neighbor, came to talk to me proactively. She was the security guard for this area, her husband worked at the same company as me, and she had a son in high school preparing for his final exams. Being new to the city, Karen’s enthusiasm made me feel welcome. After learning that her husband worked with me, I let my guard down even more. Our company had good benefits, often distributing fruits and flour during holidays. I always used the excuse of living alone to give part of my benefits to her family. She would always accept them with a smile, not forgetting to compliment me. Looking back now, Karen seemed to always be taking things from me, but never gave me anything in return. Those light compliments were far less substantial than actual material goods. I couldn’t help but recall the pain of slowly losing my life in the acid rain in my dream. The moonlight outside the window flowed slowly, the neighborhood was peaceful, showing no signs of the hell on earth that would come in half a month. Karen’s cursing voice next door was particularly clear: “I must have been blind to marry into this family, I’m so unlucky to live with you people, a husband who doesn’t strive for success, a son who doesn’t study, how can my life be so miserable!” Then came the sound of dishes and bowls being smashed. I took out my phone and sent Karen a voice message on SnapChat, “You’re really noisy, even if your family life is bad, you shouldn’t disturb others in the middle of the night.”

Perhaps my sudden change surprised Karen for a moment. After half a minute of silence, Karen started smashing tables and chairs at home with renewed vigor. “Fine, you all bully me, and you, little bitch next door, don’t be so smug, you’ll have your day of misfortune!” Neighbors nearby were gradually woken up by the noise, but everyone tacitly remained silent. I should have realized earlier that in this neighborhood, no one associated with this family. Only I was still foolishly being kind to them. Realizing that no one was responding to her, Karen’s noise gradually died down. As soon as I woke up, I sent a message to a real estate agency, asking them to keep an eye out for a house nearby but in a different neighborhood. I needed to move. In the days before moving, I definitely couldn’t let Karen’s family have a comfortable life. The pain I suffered had to be returned in full.

The high temperature of over 40°C (104°F) had lasted for more than half a month. The company boss, considering the difficulty of employees coming to work, had arranged for an early vacation. I set an alarm for 4 AM, planning to go to a distant market to buy some living supplies first. Even though the days of acid rain might not affect me after moving out, I still needed to prepare for the abnormally high temperatures in the coming months. Although it was still half dark when I left home, I felt a wave of high temperature as soon as I stepped out. I quickly drove to the market, bought freeze-dried vegetables, sausages, and bottled water from several scattered stalls, then went to supermarkets and convenience stores to buy instant food and sanitary napkins and other daily necessities. Only after filling the trunk and back seat to the brim did I finally feel at ease. On the way back to the city, the real estate agent called me, saying there was a house for sale nearby. It wasn’t large, and because it was old, the price was cheap. I stopped the car by the roadside and talked to the agent on the phone, roughly understanding the situation of the house. The owner of the house lived abroad permanently and had only recently thought of selling the house. The landlord was cheerful and said that if I decided to buy, I could move in first, and the transfer procedures could be completed after he returned to the country. After repeatedly thanking the landlord, I moved the supplies I had bought into the new house.

When I returned to the neighborhood after moving the supplies, Karen was sitting in the shade of a tree to cool off. The continuous high temperature made the rooms very stuffy, and Karen, being of a stingy nature, absolutely wouldn’t turn on the air conditioning. Karen glanced at me coldly, muttering to herself, “You little bitch, still wandering around in such hot weather, you’ll be cooked into an idiot sooner or later.” I didn’t respond to her. Seeing this, Karen immediately became smug, “Little bitch, you don’t dare to speak after being scolded a couple of times. You’ve clearly been educated into stupidity, not as smart as my son.” I stood still under my parasol, staring at her. Karen became a bit nervous, “Little bitch, what are you standing there like a stick for?” I took out my phone, pointed at the camera by the building, and said, “When I first moved in, I was worried about the security here, so I paid to install this camera. I’ve recorded all the videos of you cursing just now. You wouldn’t want this video to appear in the neighborhood group chat and your husband’s work group, would you?” Karen stood up at once, looking like a short, dumpy bread man. She angrily pointed at me for a while: “You… you…” I replied with a smile: “Pretending to stutter isn’t good.” Karen was so angry that she wanted to walk out of the shade to hit me, but her legs were numb from sitting for too long. She tripped over her own feet, losing balance and falling flat on her face. Her left cheek touched the ground directly, and the scorching ground immediately blistered her skin. She tried to support herself up with her hands, grimacing, but her arm strength was simply not enough to support her body. The parts of her palms and arms that touched the ground quickly turned red, and she instinctively cried out “Ouch, ouch!” Her “good” son heard the commotion upstairs and ran down in slippers. There was a small step at the entrance of the building, and he stumbled, falling right on top of Karen. I couldn’t help but gasp, “What a beautiful scene.” Karen was in too much pain to speak now. She tried to push her son away, but the weight of a 200-pound grown man was not something an old woman could move. I sighed, took my phone, and went upstairs. Half an hour later, the property management staff found Karen and her son, and it took a great effort to pull them up. I roughly understood from the intermittent cursing from downstairs. — Karen’s son had fractured a bone, and the two of them had been baked into human jerky before someone came to rescue them.

Just as night fell, I heard someone frantically knocking on the door. I knew right away that it must be Karen’s family coming to make trouble. I bit into an ice pop and went to the door, looking through the peephole. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud when I saw two people wrapped up like mummies. Hearing my laughter, Karen angrily slapped her thigh. Probably because her eyesight was poor after the fall, she slapped her son’s freshly fractured leg. A high-pitched male soprano lit up the motion-sensor lights of the entire building. The man who had just returned from work looked helplessly at their farce, “Have you had enough? If you’ve had enough, hurry back home. Are you trying to make sure everyone at our company knows about your misdeeds?” Karen cried out, “What have we done? It’s clearly this little bitch who’s shameless! She’s the one who cursed us for no reason! You heartless man, instead of standing up for us, you’re helping outsiders!” The man angrily slapped Karen’s arm, “The property management has already told me everything. You were clearly the one who cursed her first! I’m still trying to get ahead in the company, hurry up and get downstairs.” The man cursed as he led Karen downstairs, the son hopping alone behind them. Looking at the state of their family, the anger in my heart subsided a bit. The acid rain was coming soon, and I needed to move out in the shortest time possible.

In the following days, I went out early every day to purchase living supplies, and packed my luggage late at night, completely reversing my schedule with others. Looking at the refreshed old house, I breathed a sigh of relief. The north-facing bedroom had been converted into a storage room, filled to the brim with various necessities. In my spare time, I prepared power banks and books, and downloaded many songs, variety shows, and web dramas onto a hard drive. After all, I didn’t know how long the high temperature weather would last, and I needed to find something to do. With everything prepared, I started to casually hint to nearby neighbors that my work was being transferred and I would soon be living in a new city. These days, the temperature seemed to be dropping slightly, and I knew that the acid rain was coming. Finally, on the day before the acid rain came, I loaded the remaining items into the car, ready to bid farewell to this place for good. Karen was still sitting in the shade of the tree, eyeing me sideways. The burns on her face hadn’t healed properly, making her look particularly comical: “What? Finally going to get lost?” I said, “Yes, you’ll never see me again.” Sitting on the sofa in my new home, a light rain started to fall. The rain had finally come.

Through the rain curtain, I could see a transparent barrier rising around the neighborhood I used to live in, extending from the ground all the way up into the cloud layer. The leaves quickly turned yellow and fell off under the rain’s wash. As raindrops hit the cement ground, a strange white smoke rose. The internet was in an uproar, and the local police department quickly issued several announcements. “Due to the current abnormal weather, please stay quietly at home and wait for further notice. Do not go out! Do not go out! Do not go out!” Karen quickly commented under the announcement: “You tell me not to go out and I won’t go out? My family’s living expenses depend on my husband going to work! You heartless police, just trying to avoid responsibility by troubling the citizens!” The police department ignored her and continued to post messages calling for people to stay indoors. Seeing no one responding to her, Karen became even more agitated: “I’m going out anyway, it’s so cool outside in the rain!” The police department finally got annoyed: “Dear netizen, it’s acid rain outside. For your own safety, please stay at home.” Karen continued to bombard with comments: “You say it’s acid rain and it’s acid rain? I’m going out anyway! I’m going to start a live stream, I’ll fight it out with those bastards at the police department today!” With that, Karen posted a live stream link to the neighborhood group chat. I switched to a small account and clicked into the live stream. There were already dozens of viewers in the stream, and looking at the nicknames, they were mostly residents of the neighborhood. Karen went downstairs holding her phone, not even bothering with an umbrella. “Hello everyone in the live stream, I’m going out in the rain now. Why won’t the police let us go out!”

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Because of my kindness toward a dog, I was gifted $5 billion. All I had to do was spend it, and my liver cancer would miraculously disappear. I stared at the balance on my phone, wiping away my tears. If I could spend to my heart’s content before I die, it was worth it! The day I was diagnosed with liver cancer was Christmas. The streets were filled with the sound of Christmas carols, and the atmosphere was lively and cheerful. I drifted down the street with the lab results in my hand. “Liver cancer, late-stage” were the words glaring at me from the medical report. The doctor’s words still echoed in my mind. “If there’s something you want to do, do it quickly.” “Treatment isn’t going to help you. You only have a few months.” I had sensed something was wrong with my body for a while, so the news wasn’t a surprise. There was just this feeling of, “Well, that figures.” Maybe it was the years of overworking. Maybe it was all the dinners and drinks with clients. Maybe it was the malnutrition from my teenage years catching up to me. My phone screen lit up. It was a message from my boyfriend, Tyler Martin. [Baby, I have to work late tonight. I can’t spend Christmas with you.] I looked up and saw two people locked in an embrace, not far away. So, this was what he meant by “working late.” Suddenly, being cheated on didn’t seem like such a big deal in the face of death. But did he really have to flaunt it in front of me? I walked up to them and yanked the two of them apart. A loud slap landed square on Tyler’s face. “Working late?” He looked stunned. He turned to see me, his eyes wide with shock, and just as he was about to explode in anger, I slapped him again, this time across his right cheek. “Working late with her face?” I had fallen for that gentle, nerdy face of his. He seemed cultured and sweet. Sure, he had his faults—he wasn’t exactly strong, and he had a ton of quirks—but I liked him anyway. So, I played the naïve girlfriend for three years. Who would’ve thought he’d turn out to be such scum? I still wasn’t satisfied. I raised my hand and slapped him once more. This time, he lost it, clenching his fists and charging at me, breathless with rage. I kicked him square in the chest, and he stumbled back a few steps, gasping for air, unable to form coherent words. “Carrie Mitchell, are you insane?!” I smirked. “Yeah, I am. I’m dying, actually.” I kicked him again, sending him sprawling to the ground. Tyler lay there, groaning in pain, barely able to breathe. I stepped on him, grinding my foot into his chest for good measure, and glanced around at the crowd forming nearby. People were starting to gather, some even pulling out their phones to record the scene. “I’m just dealing with a cheating scumbag. Any of you want to defend him, or do you want to be next?” As soon as the words left my mouth, the crowd scattered. Soon, it was just me and the pale-faced girl standing there. She looked young, probably just graduated from college. “How long have you been dating him?” She mumbled, “Not even six months.” “Did you know he had a girlfriend?” The girl shook her head furiously, eyes wide. “No! Not until now! I’m done with him! I swear!” I nodded in approval. “Then what are you waiting for? Leave.” “Right! Right, I’m going! Wishing you—” I cut her off, annoyed. “Don’t bother wishing me anything. I don’t have a thing for secondhand men.” Once the girl was gone, I grabbed Tyler by the collar and dragged him to the railing. I was strong by nature, and a few years of martial arts training had made sure I could handle someone like him without breaking a sweat. “Now let’s talk about us.” “We’ve been together for three years. How much have I spent on you?” Tyler’s face was swollen and red, looking nothing like the clean-cut guy I used to like. “Uh… maybe $30,000? No, wait, $50,000.” “Are you sure?” “And the $30,000 you loaned me. So, $80,000 total.” “No interest?” Tyler quickly changed his answer. “Okay, okay! $100,000! I owe you $100,000!” I stuffed my medical report back into my coat pocket. “Pay up. Cash or transfer?” “Transfer, transfer!” I stared coldly at him. “Don’t forget to add a note.” He flinched and immediately added a note before shakily entering his password to make the transfer. My phone buzzed with the notification. $100,000 received, labeled as “Repayment.”

Before leaving, I gave him one last chance. “Do you need me to call the cops for you?” Tyler was trembling like a leaf, looking pitiful. “No! I, uh, fell. I haven’t seen you today!” I lost interest. “Fine then.” “I like your hands. It’d be a shame if they got broken because you didn’t behave.” “Now get lost.” Tyler stumbled to his feet and fled. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my body, and I could barely stand. Sweat poured down my face as I crouched, hugging my knees. It took a while for the pain to pass. I slowly made my way home, but then my mom called. “Carrie, you haven’t sent this month’s money yet.” My heart sank to the bottom. I finally realized how meaningless all my efforts for my family had been. I was dying. Yet the only thing my family cared about was why I hadn’t sent money this month. These were the people I’d been planning to leave my inheritance to. “What, is $5,000 a month not enough for you and Dad?” “It’s enough, but your brother just graduated. He needs to pay rent, and he’s got a car loan. He’s short on cash.” I scoffed coldly, “So now I’m the ATM? What am I, his parent?” Her voice immediately rose. “Carrie Mitchell, how can you say that? Don’t forget, when you were a kid, your brother saved your life!” Saved me? David was two years younger than me but always better fed and healthier. He pushed me into the river because I wouldn’t let him ride on my back like a horse. Mom, Ellen, knew the truth. But she had used that story to guilt-trip me my whole life, making me feel like I owed them everything. Out of love for my family, I kept quiet about it. But now, I no longer had to. I cut her off, “Do you think I don’t remember?” “Maybe I should ask Uncle Wayne, the one who actually saved me, what he thinks.” Mom fell silent. She tried to start yelling again, but I didn’t give her the chance. “I’ve kept records of every transfer. I paid for the house’s down payment and mortgage too.” “I’ve repaid what you spent raising me. You’ve got enough for retirement.” “If you still want to make a fuss, I’ll make sure your precious son pays for it.” “We’ll see who cares more.” Her angry curses filled the phone. I hung up and blocked all contact with them. A sense of calm settled over me. All the resentment I’d bottled up for years suddenly seemed insignificant in the face of death. In my final months, all I wanted was to treat myself better. As I walked through Briarwood Alley, I heard a rustling behind me. Under the dim streetlight, a hulking man with a scruffy beard was approaching, holding a knife. Despite his efforts to seem calm, his hands were shaking. A newbie? I said, “Are you robbing me?” “Y-yeah, but aren’t you scared?” I cut him off. “Would $5,000 be enough? Give me your number, I’ll send it over.” Better to give it to this guy than let my family drain me dry. The man looked confused. I grabbed his hand, fished out his phone, and pulled up the payment screen, transferring $5,000 to him. He still hadn’t recovered from the shock. I frowned. “Is $5,000 not enough? Asking for more would be rude.” “W-why are you being so cooperative?” Honestly, he seemed kind of dumb—like a big bear with a scruffy face. I pulled out my medical report. “See this? Stage four liver cancer. I’m terminal.” The man’s face changed, and tears welled up in his eyes. He quickly wiped them away and transferred the money back to me. Then, he pulled out a wad of cash from his pockets and stuffed it into my hands. “I’m sorry, sis! My grandpa had cancer too. I didn’t know what else to do.” “Please, get treatment! You’ll be okay, I swear!” He hurried off, still crying. I stared at the crumpled bills in my hands, feeling a lump rise in my throat. A stranger had more compassion for me than my own family ever did.

Near the trash cans by Oakwood Apartments, I found a stray dog, its fur matted and filthy. Something tugged at my heart. I took off my coat, wrapped the little dog in it, and rushed it to the Brooklyn Veterinary Clinic. Thankfully, I brought it in just in time, and they managed to save its life. As I was carrying the little dog back home, I noticed someone following me. Another mugger? I spun around. It was an older man, his hair streaked with gray, and he looked tired and worn out. His eyes were locked on the little puppy in my arms, filled with a strange mix of pain, sorrow, and… relief? Something about him felt off. “Miss, can I have my grandson back?” I clutched the puppy tighter. “And how do you plan to prove it?” His throat made a strange, guttural noise, almost inhuman, sending a shiver down my spine. Then, the puppy, which had been barely moving, perked up. It opened its eyes and started wriggling in his direction, its little paws reaching out. The man took the dog and stroked its head gently. “Thank you for saving him, miss. Let me offer you a reward for your trouble.” I shook my head. “No need. I’m dying soon anyway, so money’s not much use to me.” The man’s eyes shifted color—his once dark pupils turned a glowing green, scanning me up and down as if he could see straight through me. My skin crawled. “Good deeds don’t go unrewarded. You saved my grandson, and for that, my family is forever grateful.” “If you can spend this money within three months, your illness will be cured.” I blinked in confusion. “What?” My phone buzzed, and when I looked at the screen, a new account had appeared, linked to a Chase Platinum Card. I did a quick count. $5 billion. I glanced back at the man and the dog, but they were already gone. My coat pocket felt heavier than before. I reached in and pulled out a sleek black credit card. Was this some kind of joke? Curious, I decided to test it. I emptied my Amazon cart, hitting checkout, expecting it to fail—but the transaction went through. That man wasn’t lying! I flagged down an Uber and headed straight for the city center. If I was going to die, I might as well go out in style. I arrived at the Galleria on Fifth Avenue, looking as pale as a ghost, with my clothes still covered in dirt from the dog. Even the little dog had gotten my coat all dirty. The sales associate who approached me looked barely older than twenty, nervous and shy. Probably new on the job, otherwise, they wouldn’t have sent her to deal with me. She seemed nice enough, though. She even offered me a cup of hot water when she noticed I didn’t have a jacket. I pointed to two coats and asked her to ring them up. “Don’t you want to try them on first, miss?” she asked hesitantly. I shook my head. “No need. Just bill me.” After the transaction, I pulled out my phone to check the balance. Sure enough, the card had worked, and a tiny progress bar had appeared on my phone screen. It read: 99.98%. I called out to another sales associate who had been watching me from the moment I stepped in, her nose high in the air. She barely hid her disdain as she sauntered over. “Excuse me, could I—” She cut me off with a sneer, rolling her eyes. “We don’t accept returns or exchanges on purchases here.” I raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t asking for that.” “You’re blocking my view.” Turning to the first girl, who seemed much kinder, I waved her over. “Miss, can you help me out?” “Of course! What would you like?” I pointed to several bags on display. “You see those three rows of bags? Grab the second one on the first row, the first one on the second row, and the fourth one on the third row.” The girl hurried off to retrieve them. “Would you like them gift-wrapped?” “No, thanks.” The snooty sales associate looked like she was about to say something again, but before she could open her mouth, I continued. “I’ll take everything else in those three rows. Pack them up, and put them all on her sale.” I pointed to the kind associate.

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My husband, Ryan Thompson, is a well-known celebrity hairstylist in the industry. His clients? All wealthy, high-society women. Late at night, he comes home, strips off his clothes, and falls straight into bed. But tonight, I found a receipt in his jacket pocket. Only one item was listed—condoms. It was purchased at 8:16 p.m. tonight. I froze. Ryan and I hadn’t been intimate in months. So who was he planning to use them with? My name is Melissa Thompson, 26 years old. After graduating, I started working at a bank, mostly dealing with investments and financial planning. My parents are both teachers, and they were always strict with me growing up. They never imagined I’d marry someone from a completely different background than mine. Ryan was the kind of guy any woman would fall for at first glance—handsome, charming, with an easy smile. At the time, he worked as a stylist at a high-end salon near my office. I would often stop by for a haircut after work. Over time, we got to know each other. Ryan’s good looks and sharp sense of humor stood out. He was mature and composed, totally different from the loud, immature guys I knew in college. I fell for him, and soon we started dating. When my father found out, he was furious. He yelled at me for hours. I cried so hard, and my mother, seeing how much pain I was in, finally stepped in to mediate between us. In the end, my father gave in reluctantly. I thought being with the man I loved would be like living in a fairytale, but after we got married, the stress started to pile up. I couldn’t sleep, had nightmares, my hair started falling out, and I looked more and more exhausted every day. Every time I looked in the mirror, it was like staring at a ghost. I’d glance over at Ryan, sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone, his toned abs peeking out from under his shirt. Next to him, I felt worse than ever. My parents were heartbroken when they saw how I looked. After our wedding, they spent most of their savings to buy us a house in a good school district. They even gave Ryan money to help him attend a hairdressing course. The training paid off. Ryan quickly became the star of the salon, eventually being promoted to Lead Stylist. But once he became Lead Stylist, he only got busier. He was out early, back late, and I rarely saw him anymore. When he did come home late, he reeked of alcohol and perfume, too tired to even take off his clothes before passing out in bed. That night was no different. Ryan came home in the middle of the night, collapsed onto the bed without taking off his jacket, and was snoring almost immediately. I felt bad for him, so I reached out to take off his jacket. As I shook it loose, a few strands of long, red, curly hair fell to the floor. I didn’t think much of it at the time—after all, Ryan worked as a stylist and was always covered in different women’s hair. I was used to it by now. I picked up the strands and tossed them in the trash, then hung his jacket over a chair. But then something fell out of his pocket—a crumpled piece of paper. Curious, I unfolded it and saw it was a receipt from the supermarket. Only one item was listed: condoms. It was purchased at 8:16 p.m. that evening. I froze. Ryan and I hadn’t been intimate in ages, so who were the condoms for? Once the thought crossed my mind, it started to take root. I grabbed his jacket and began searching through it more carefully. Finally, I spotted a deep red lipstick stain on the collar. Ryan had always told me how many women were around him at work—flirty receptionists, young clients, and charming female stylists. But his most frequent clients? Wealthy, married women.

From the day we got married, I chose to trust him. I never questioned his work or what he did. But seeing that lipstick stain and the condoms… I couldn’t help it. My mind was racing, spinning out of control. It started affecting my work, so I took a day off and headed straight for Westside Hair Salon. I’d never visited Ryan at work since we got married, and he never invited me to any of his social events. Over time, I realized I didn’t know any of his friends or coworkers. After some asking around, I found the salon at Westfield Century City, taking up a large space on the fifth floor with clear glass walls. As soon as I stepped off the elevator, I saw the huge “Westside Hair Salon” sign. Through the glass doors, I could see a girl with short green hair leaning over the front desk, laughing with Ryan. Ryan had a mischievous grin on his face as he ran his fingers through her hair, making her smile even wider. His eyes trailed over her body, and then he playfully pinched her waist. The girl didn’t pull away. In fact, she leaned into his hand, pressing closer. The chemistry between them was unmistakable. I was frozen in place. Is this what my husband does at work? It felt like my legs were filled with lead. I couldn’t move. Ryan whispered something in the girl’s ear, then turned and walked deeper into the salon. I quickly walked inside, my eyes following him as he disappeared into the VIP suite. The girl at the front desk glanced at me, her face twisting in disdain. “Are you here for a cut or color? Do you have a regular stylist?” I shook my head. “No, just find me whoever’s available.” She called out loudly, “Kevin! A client’s here. Wash her hair.” A slim guy with dyed blonde hair came out from the back. His features were delicate, almost feminine. He smiled at me. “Hey, beautiful. Come with me.” As I followed him, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. I looked like a mess, and hearing him call me “beautiful” felt like a cruel joke. How could anyone in this business lie so easily? Kevin quickly washed my hair and seated me in a chair tucked away in a corner. He placed a white towel over my face and asked, “How do you want your hair cut?” “Whatever,” I muttered. He let my hair down and started cutting, making small talk as he worked. I took the opportunity to get some information. “How’d you hear about us?” he asked. “A friend recommended this place. She’s one of Ryan’s clients. But I didn’t see him out front,” I said, trying to sound casual. Kevin scoffed, clearly irritated. “Ryan? Oh, he’s busy. You need this,” he rubbed his fingers together, implying money. “Oh?” I feigned curiosity. “How much are we talking?” Kevin studied my face for a moment before lowering his voice and leaning in. “Look, you seem nice. You don’t want to get involved in this.”

It was clear Kevin knew a lot. I looked at his face in the mirror and said, “Tell me what you know about Ryan, and I’ll sign up for a VIP membership right here.” Kevin’s eyes lit up, and he grinned. “You got a thing for Ryan too? Trust me, you’re not the only one. His clients are all over him. They drive the nicest cars.” He kept talking as he cut my hair, telling me everything. Apparently, Ryan only handled VIP clients, and to get into the VIP suite, you had to have spent over $100,000 at the salon. “That much?” I asked, surprised. Kevin shrugged, like it was no big deal. “Ryan’s worth it. He’s got a way with those rich women. They just hand him their money.” His voice dripped with jealousy. I looked at Kevin. He was younger and not bad-looking. “You’re good-looking too. I bet those women like your type.” Kevin paused, then burst out laughing. “You’re funny.” He set down the scissors and leaned closer to me. “Ryan has a way of making those women fall for him. They give him whatever he wants.” I raised my eyebrows. “How does he manage that?” Kevin sighed and shook his head, clearly exasperated. “It’s his game. He doesn’t do emotions. If a woman’s hot, he uses her for sex. If she’s rich, he uses her for money.” Just then, we heard a voice from the front. “I want Ryan! I know he’s here. No one else will do.” A young woman was standing at the front desk, arms crossed, shouting. No one seemed to care, continuing with their work. I was shocked. “Aren’t you going to do something?” Kevin hushed me. “This happens all the time. Just wait—someone will always show up looking for Ryan.” I glanced at the girl, her face flushed with anger. No matter how much she yelled, no one paid her any attention. Finally, the green-haired receptionist snapped at her, “If you really want Ryan, I can book you an appointment.” The girl exploded. “Book an appointment? Are you serious? Do you even know what we are to each other?” She waved her finger in the air. “Let me tell you, I slept with him last night. And now he won’t even acknowledge me!” Kevin snorted, trying to stifle a laugh. But I couldn’t laugh. My mind was reeling—my husband, Ryan, was cheating on me. I sat there, staring at the scene, too numb to process it. While I was still in shock, Ryan came out of the VIP suite. The girl immediately dropped her attitude and rushed over to him, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Baby, I’ve been looking for you all day. Why didn’t you come out sooner?” Ryan scowled at her. “This is my workplace. Don’t make a scene.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294742”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #校园School #魔幻Magic #励志Inspiring #惊悚Thriller #浪漫Romance #擦边Steamy #重生Reborn