Category: English

Pregnancy three months in, I was in a severe car accident. I called my husband, Ethan, but he simply condemned me impatiently: “Lily, will you ever quit with the theatrics? Inventing a car accident just to get me to come home? Seriously?” Just as the call was about to disconnect, I heard him turn and say to another woman: “Don’t worry, darling, it’s just a scratch. The doctor will be right here.” The searing pain ripped through my abdomen, and a sudden, warm gush drained the last bit of heat from me. Our baby was gone. I was too greedy. I thought one life could make him turn back to me, but I was abandoned once again. I suddenly smiled. Maybe it was for the best. He finally didn’t have to be annoyed by me anymore. And I no longer had to pretend to love him. Lily POV When I woke up, the world was upside down. I was trapped in the twisted driver’s seat, an agonizing pain in my abdomen threatening to tear me apart. In that moment, I felt something incredibly important being ripped from my body. It was the secret I’d kept for three months. My hands trembled as I painstakingly fumbled for my phone amidst the shattered glass. The screen was cracked, but it still lit up. The name at the top of my contacts: Ethan. He was my husband, and my only family in this world. The phone rang for a long time before he finally answered. “What is it?” His voice was deep and cold, laced with impatience. “Ethan… help me…” My voice was hoarse and broken, a sob catching in my throat, “I’m on the Coast Highway… I was in a car accident, there’s so much blood…” A flurry of footsteps sounded from his end, followed by a woman’s delicate sniffle: “Ethan, it hurts so much, am I going to be disfigured?” Ethan’s tone instantly changed, becoming soft and anxious: “Don’t worry, it’s just a scratch. The doctor will be right here.” When he spoke to me again, his voice turned icy cold. “Lily, will you ever quit with the theatrics? Inventing a car accident just to get me to come home? Seriously?” My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a giant hand: “I’m not… it’s real, save the baby…” “Baby?” Ethan gave a cold laugh. “What baby? Are you still dreaming? You used to cry over a paper cut. This car accident story is too fake. I’m busy. Stop being so unreasonable.” “Beep—beep—” The call disconnected. My phone slipped from my fingertips, falling into the growing pool of blood. I closed my eyes in despair. I’d forgotten. In Ethan’s eyes, I, Lily, was a conniving woman, but Scarlett? She was the frail, helpless damsel in distress who needed his constant protection. The cramping in my abdomen hit its peak, and a hot gush of blood stole the last bit of warmth from me. In the last second before my consciousness faded, I thought: Ethan, this time, I won’t cause any more trouble. Truly, no more trouble. The hospital hallway was blindingly white. “Where’s the family? Why haven’t they come to sign yet? Look at the time!” The nurse’s anxious shouts echoed in my ears. I painstakingly opened my eyes; the lights on the ceiling made me feel nauseous. “Doctor, she’s awake!” The attending physician, Dr. Miller, was a middle-aged man. His brows were furrowed, and his gaze towards me was filled with sympathy and solemnity. “Ms. Reed, have you reached your family? Although the emergency miscarriage surgery is complete, you’ve lost a lot of blood, and furthermore…” Dr. Miller paused, seemingly choosing his words carefully, “we found some abnormal indicators in your blood tests. It’s confirmed to be acute myeloid leukemia. You need chemotherapy immediately.” The air was dead silent. I lay on the hospital bed, my face even paler than the sheets. I reached down to touch my flat abdomen, empty now, even that faint connection was severed. Emergency miscarriage. Leukemia. Fate, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor, always picking on the most unfortunate. “No family,” I said, my voice as light as smoke. “I’ll sign myself.” Dr. Miller was taken aback: “This is a serious matter. Where’s your husband? The kind person who brought you to the hospital said they saw his number at the top of your phone.” “He’s dead,” I stated, my voice devoid of emotion. Dr. Miller seemed choked. He looked at me, a woman so weak she looked as if she could die at any moment, sighed, and handed me the pen. My hand trembled as I held the pen, every word I wrote was shaky and distorted. After signing, I felt as if all my strength had drained away, and I collapsed onto the pillow. My phone vibrated on the bedside table. “Ethan” flashed across the screen. Before, I would have answered ecstatically, even if all I heard were cold words. But now, it just felt like noise. I pressed the answer button. Before I could even speak, a barrage of questions was hurled at me. “Lily, where the hell have you been? Scarlett got scared looking for your cat. If you don’t come back and apologize, you can kiss your spot as my wife goodbye.” So it was for Scarlett. Always Scarlett. I looked at the IV drip, and suddenly chuckled. “What’s so funny?” Ethan seemed infuriated by my laughter. “I’m talking to you about something serious!” “Ethan,” I interrupted him, my tone frighteningly calm, “You don’t need to kick me out. I’ve already cleared out the spot.” “What do you mean?” “It means,” I said, looking out at the dark night sky, “I want a divorce.”

Ethan POV It was already three in the morning when I returned to the mansion. The living room lights were off, everything was pitch black. Normally, no matter how late it was, Lily would leave a warm yellow floor lamp on, curled up on the sofa waiting for me. She’d hand me a hot coffee the moment I walked in. Today, there were no lights, no coffee, and no one. I irritably yanked off my tie and tossed my jacket onto the sofa. “Trying to attract my attention by pretending not to care,” I scoffed coldly. I assumed Lily was still sulking about me hanging up on her earlier. She was always like this, narrow-minded, easily jealous. The moment I showed Scarlett even a little kindness, she would turn the house upside down. I went upstairs and pushed open the bedroom door. Empty. The bed was perfectly made, not a single crease, as if no one had ever slept in it. My brow twitched. I saw a document on the bedside table. In the moonlight, five bolded, capitalized words on the cover stabbed at my eyes—”Divorce Agreement.” Was this woman insane? I picked up the agreement and flipped it open. Relinquishing all assets. She wanted nothing but a few clothes. The house, the cars, the Reed Group shares, even the jewelry I’d given her over the years—all left behind. And in the signature section, the handwriting was somewhat sloppy, with a few dried bloodstains. Blood? My heart inexplicably tightened, then was immediately drowned by a surge of anger. Another one of her tricks! Using red ink to fake blood, using divorce to force my hand. Lily, is this all you’ve got? I pulled out my phone and dialed Lily’s number. “Sorry, the subscriber you dialed is currently unavailable.” “Fine, just fine.” I laughed in anger, slamming the agreement onto the floor. “Lily, go ahead and hide your whole life. Don’t come back begging me!” I was woken up the next morning by Scarlett’s call. “Ethan, if I accidentally lost the cat you gave Lily… is Lily angry? My head feels so dizzy, do I have a concussion…?” I rubbed my temples, suppressing the irritation bubbling inside me: “Stop overthinking. Where are you? I’ll come pick you up.” “I’m at the hospital.” When I arrived, Scarlett was sitting in a wheelchair, her leg wrapped in bandages. It was just a scratch, but she was bandaged up like she’d broken her leg. “Ethan!” Scarlett, her eyes red-rimmed, threw herself into my arms. I instinctively flinched, the “bloodstains” I’d seen last night inexplicably flashing in my mind. “What did the doctor say?” I asked. “The doctor said I need bed rest… Oh, right, where’s Lily? I want to apologize to her in person, I shouldn’t have tried to catch her cat…” My face darkened: “Don’t bother with her.” Just then, a hospital bed was pushed down the corridor. The person lying on it was extremely thin, wearing an oxygen mask, her hands covered in needle marks. My gaze casually swept over her, and I froze, as if struck by lightning. That pale, lifeless face was unmistakably Lily’s.

Lily POV I was woken by pain. The chemotherapy side effects hit hard, like a thousand ants were crawling and biting deep within my bones. I opened my eyes, and a tall figure appeared in my blurry vision. Before I could even make him out, his cold voice cut through the air. “You’re really going all out for your act. Where did you learn this trick? Pretending to have a terminal illness?” My vision slowly focused. Ethan stood at the foot of the bed, looking at me arrogantly, his eyes filled with mockery and disdain. Scarlett sat beside him in a wheelchair, looking at me with feigned timidity. “Lily, don’t scare Ethan. Please, get up,” Scarlett said softly. “I know you hate me, but I really didn’t mean to…” I pulled off my oxygen mask, my throat as parched as if I’d swallowed sand. “Get out.” Just one word, but it took all my remaining strength. Ethan’s face turned dark. He quickly walked over and roughly grabbed my wrist. “Lily! How long are you going to keep this up? Scarlett’s leg is hurt badly and she still came to see you, what kind of attitude is that?” His grip was strong, right on my IV site. Blood immediately surged back, staining the IV tube crimson. I let out a muffled groan of pain, cold sweat beading on my forehead. “Let go…” “No!” Ethan glared at me. “I want you to apologize to Scarlett right now!” “Ethan, are you blind?” I looked up, those eyes once full of love now only held a desolate emptiness. “Can’t you see I’m bleeding?” Ethan froze, looking down. Fresh blood dripped down my hand, spreading into bright red stains on the clean white sheets. The blood was too real, too stark to be mere red ink. He seemed to instinctively loosen his grip. “Ethan…” Scarlett suddenly clutched her chest, gasping for air. “I… I can’t breathe…” Ethan’s attention instantly shifted. He turned to support Scarlett. “What’s wrong? What’s bothering you?” “Maybe it’s the strong smell of medicine here, Lily…” Scarlett leaned weakly against him. Ethan looked back at me, his gaze cold: “If you love the hospital so much, feel free to stay here as long as you like. Come talk to me when you’ve learned to behave.” With that, he picked up Scarlett and walked away without a backward glance. I watched his retreating back, and my tears finally broke free, falling in large drops. Ethan, you’ll never know, this might be the last time I ever see you. Perhaps it was for the best. Now, I truly had given up all hope. Over the next week, Ethan didn’t reappear. My body grew weaker. Chemotherapy caused massive hair loss, so I just bought a hat to cover it. Dr. Miller urged me to contact family, as the upcoming bone marrow transplant required a match. I shook my head. I was an orphan; where would I find a relative to match? That afternoon, the hospital room door opened. It wasn’t Ethan, but Ethan’s male assistant, Mark. Mark looked at my skeletal form on the bed, a flicker of something that looked like regret in his eyes, but he remained strictly professional as he produced a document. “Ms. Reed, Mr. Reed said that as long as you sign this understanding letter, admitting that the car accident was due to your own mishandling and had nothing to do with Scarlett, he would agree… not to divorce.”

Lily POV I froze for a moment, then began to tremble with laughter. So that was it. The car involved in the accident that day belonged to Scarlett? No wonder Scarlett was also on the Coast Highway that day, no wonder she only had minor scrapes. Ethan was afraid I’d sue Scarlett, so he came to silence me. “Not divorce?” I asked, as if I’d heard the funniest joke. “What makes him think I still care about being his wife?” Mark looked a little awkward: “Mr. Reed said you shouldn’t be stubborn. Without the Reed family, you won’t even be able to afford your medical bills.” “Tell him,” I pulled the already signed divorce agreement from under my pillow and flung it at Mark, “I’ve already signed it. I can afford these medical bills even if I have to sell my blood! Tell him to take his first love and disappear as far away as possible!” Mark scurried away in a hurry. I pulled out the IV needle in my hand. Blood welled up, but I felt no pain. I couldn’t die in this hospital. If I died here, that lunatic Ethan would surely discard my ashes anywhere, or force me to make room for Scarlett. I wanted to find a clean place to go quietly. That evening, I seized the opportunity during the nurses’ shift change and secretly slipped out of the hospital. The wind on the Coast Highway was strong, carrying the salty scent of the ocean. This was where Ethan and I first met, and also where I had my car accident and miscarriage. Round and round, the end had returned to the beginning. Just then, a black luxury car screeched to a halt beside me. The door opened, and Ethan, his face contorted with fury, rushed out and grabbed my arm. “Lily! You think you’re so smart? Daring to escape from the hospital?” Ethan must have just received the call from the hospital about a missing patient. He probably drove here inexplicably, never expecting to actually find me. In the car’s headlights, he saw me. Thin. Too thin. Like a fragile sheet of paper, ready to crumble in the wind. I looked up, my pale face beneath the brim of my hat devoid of any expression. “Ethan, let go.” “Come back with me!” Ethan seemed panicked. “As long as you’re obedient, I won’t pursue what happened before…” “Not pursue?” I laughed, tears streaming down my face, then a sudden gush of blood sprayed from my mouth, staining Ethan’s white shirt. Ethan’s pupils seemed to constrict, and he froze. “Lily?!” My body softly collapsed, like a kite whose string had been cut. This time, I wasn’t acting. Ethan caught my falling body, his palm touching something wet and warm. It was blood. An incessant flow of blood, gushing from my nose and the corners of my mouth, unstoppable. “Ethan…” In his arms, my eyes unfocused as I gazed at the night sky. “If there’s a next life… I never want to meet you again…”

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On the night of our fifth wedding anniversary, Julian Reed knelt on one knee, fastening a new diamond necklace around my neck. “My dearest, you’re my life,” he whispered, kissing my earlobe, his voice as soft as melted honey. I scoffed, remembering the document I’d just seen. Elara Vance Psychological Destruction Plan. His handwriting was on it: “Year five, self-awareness completely stripped. Initiate final phase.” “Julian,” I cupped his face, gazing earnestly into his deeply affectionate eyes. “What would you do if someone destroyed the thing you love most?” His eyes didn’t flicker. “I’d kill them.” I nodded, pulling a knife from behind my back, and smiled as I asked, “What if it was you?” Elara Vance POV In the fifth year of my marriage to Julian Reed, I found a top-secret psychological evaluation report in his private safe. The cover bore a bold title: Elara Vance Psychological Destruction Plan. I had only meant to find his passport to book two tickets to Iceland as a surprise for our fifth anniversary. The safe’s password was my birthday, and it opened with a casual try. But there was no passport, only this thick stack of documents. My hands trembling, I opened the first page. Julian’s familiar, sharp handwriting filled the pages, every sentence like a poisoned blade. “Year one: She trusts me completely. Her fear of abandonment has been entirely suppressed by my fabricated, unconditional affection.” “Year three: She has left the orchestra. Her social circle has been wiped clean; she has nothing but me.” “Year five: Dependency reached one hundred percent. Self-awareness stripped. Final phase can be initiated – complete emotional deprivation and social ruin.” My mind exploded, leaving only a sharp ringing in my ears. All of New York knew Julian Reed was completely obsessed with his wife. He would drive across half the city on a freezing winter night just because I mentioned wanting a strawberry cake from the upscale bakery across town, making sure it was the first thing I saw when I woke up. If I accidentally cut my finger while practicing cello, he would tear up, taking my hand in his mouth as if the wound was in his own heart. He even bought an entire island, naming it after me, claiming it was his worry-free paradise built just for me. He would always whisper in my ear, “Darling, the outside world is too complicated. You just need to hide under my wing and be my little princess.” So, I willingly gave up my position as principal cellist, cut off contact with my friends, and lived like a bird in a gilded cage. But now, these documents brutally revealed that every romance, every profound display of affection over these five years, had been a precisely calculated psychological trap. At the end of the file, a woman’s photo was clipped. It was Chloe Davis. Five years ago, the talented cellist Chloe Davis’s reputation was destroyed by a sudden bullying scandal. She ended up with permanently damaged legs in a car accident during a rainstorm. And the “biggest beneficiary” of that scandal was me, who took her place as principal. I had always thought it was just an accident, until I saw a sentence Julian had written on the back of the photo: “She took Chloe’s stage and her legs. I will take her soul.” The sound of the lock turning suddenly echoed. My body stiffened. I frantically shoved the documents back into the safe and slammed the door shut. The next second, the study door opened. Julian, dressed in a custom suit, held a bouquet of rare “crushed ice blue” roses. He walked in against the light, the tenderness in his eyes capable of drowning anyone. “Elara, why are you sitting on the floor? The marble is cold; you’ll get sick.” He strode over, casually placed the flowers on the table, and effortlessly lifted me, his movements practiced and careful, as if I were a fragile, rare treasure. He lowered his head, pressing his warm lips to my forehead, his voice deep and doting, “Happy fifth anniversary, darling.” I leaned against his broad, warm chest, breathing in his familiar cedar scent, feeling as if all the blood in my body had frozen. I looked into those deeply affectionate eyes. For five years, I had seen stars and oceans in those eyes, a unique, unconditional love. But it turned out they were just a mirror, reflecting his cold-blooded intent to kill. “Why are you trembling?” Julian frowned slightly, his large hand enveloping my icy fingers, a perfectly timed flicker of concern in his eyes. “Was the window not closed properly? I’ll go heat you some milk.” He placed me on the soft cashmere sofa and turned towards the kitchen. I watched his retreating back. He rolled up his shirt sleeves, his long fingers moving deftly, his profile looking so charming in the warm yellow light. This man had woven an airtight net with the most extreme tenderness. He had groomed me into a useless shell who couldn’t live without him. And then, he was preparing to push me off a cliff with his own hands. I bit down hard on my lip until I tasted blood, just to stop myself from screaming. I remembered when I was eighteen, I’d bled my finger practicing cello, and he’d cradled my hand in his, promising to protect me. I remembered on our wedding day, he swore before the priest that I was his only belief in this life. It was all fake. He never wanted to love me; he wanted to elevate me to the highest point, only to let me fall and shatter into a million pieces. Extreme pain, I realized, was silent.

Elara Vance POV I drank the milk. The sickly sweet taste slid down my throat, but it felt like swallowing broken glass, cutting my insides until they bled. The next morning, Julian said he had an important international meeting at his company. Before leaving, he pressed a lingering good morning kiss to my lips. I watched his car drive out of the villa, then turned and hailed a cab, following him. The car didn’t head to the Reed Group building but drove into New York’s most secluded high-end rehabilitation center in the suburbs. I stood at the end of the long corridor, peering through the glass panel on the patient room door. Chloe sat in a wheelchair, pale but still beautiful. And Julian, who was always composed and superior in front of me, was now kneeling before Chloe’s wheelchair. He wasn’t wearing his usual impeccably tailored suit jacket; his tie was slightly loosened, and his eyes showed deep fatigue and unconcealed pain. “Chloe, are you feeling better today?” His voice was hoarse, with a slight tremor. Chloe didn’t speak, just stared blankly out the window. Julian took her lifeless hand, pressing it to his cheek, his eyes reddening. “Soon, Chloe, just a few more days. I’ve completely broken Elara Vance’s will. Tomorrow is her comeback concert; I’ll make her atone for all the suffering you endured, in front of the whole world.” “I’ll ruin her reputation, make her taste the despair you went through.” I stood outside the door, my nails digging deep into my palms. Blood dripped from between my fingers onto the pristine white tiles, yet I felt no pain. So, this was the real Julian. In front of me, he was a perfectly executed program, every glance, every movement, a “best solution” derived from psychological analysis. His love for me was flawless, yet utterly devoid of warmth. But in front of Chloe, he felt pain, fatigue, and lost control. This was the love of a living, breathing person. I remembered Julian once telling me, “Elara, you don’t need to grow up around me. I’ll always be your safe harbor.” It turned out he wasn’t trying to protect me; he was trying to clip my wings, drain my blood, and turn me into a soulless puppet, only to effortlessly tear me apart at the very end. I didn’t rush in to confront him, nor did I cry hysterically. Like a ghost, I turned and left the rehabilitation center. Back in the villa Julian called our “love nest,” I looked around. Our massive wedding photo, intimately embracing, hung on the wall. The roses he’d clipped for me that morning sat on the table. The air still carried the calming scent he’d specially blended for me. Everything here was a custom-made cage for me. My phone suddenly vibrated. It was a message from Julian. “Darling, this meeting is so boring. All I can think about is you. Are you ready for tomorrow’s concert? Don’t be nervous, I’ll be in the audience with you.” I stared at the loving message on the screen, then suddenly chuckled. As I laughed, tears finally streamed down my face. For tomorrow’s fifth anniversary, I had secretly rehabilitated for six months, enduring excruciating pain in my fingers, just to pick up the cello again. I had planned to surprise him on stage, to show him that I was still the Elara Vance who could stand by his side. But it turned out he had already set the trap, waiting for me to fall into it. My fingers trembling, I typed a reply: “Okay.” Julian, since you want to see me shattered into a million pieces, then I will grant your wish and play out this final act with you.

Elara Vance POV On the night of my comeback concert, New York’s Lincoln Center was packed. Backstage in the dressing room, Julian personally knelt to help me put on my diamond-studded heels. He looked up, his gaze so tender it could melt anyone. “My Elara, you will be the most dazzling queen on stage tonight.” I looked at him, a faint smile playing on my lips. “Will I?” “Of course.” He stood, pressing a reverent kiss to my forehead. “Go on, I’ll be watching you from the best seat.” I hugged my cello, walking step by step towards the spotlighted stage. When I played the first note, the entire hall fell silent. It was “Sunken Star,” a piece I had once been most proud of. However, just as the music reached its climax, the giant LED screen behind the stage suddenly flickered. The beautiful starry background vanished, replaced by a maliciously edited surveillance video and audio recording. In the video, my back was visible at the top of the stairs, coldly watching Chloe fall. In the audio, a voice eerily similar to mine sneered arrogantly, “As long as your hands are crippled, the principal position will be mine.” The music stopped abruptly. The entire hall erupted in an uproar. Countless gazes of shock, disdain, and anger shot like arrows towards me in the center of the stage. “Oh my God! She’s truly despicable!” “So, Chloe’s scandal and accident back then were all her doing!” “Murderer! Get off the stage!” Camera flashes from the media flickered wildly, and reporters swarmed forward like sharks smelling blood. I didn’t move, just quietly held my cello, my gaze cutting through the chaotic crowd, landing precisely on Julian in the VIP box. He stood in the shadows, his gentle mask completely torn away, replaced by chilling indifference and malicious pleasure. He looked at me as if I were a piece of trash finally crushed. Under the escort of security, Julian slowly descended the stairs and came to the front of the stage. Reporters immediately thrust microphones at him. “Mr. Reed! Were you aware of your wife’s actions?” Julian stopped, his gaze coldly fixed on me on stage. He took the microphone, his voice deep and pained. “I apologize to everyone. For these five years, I was blinded by her hypocritical mask. Only today have I uncovered the truth of what happened.” He paused, every word he uttered like a knife stabbing straight into my heart. “Elara Vance, you disgust me.” That single sentence, amplified by the microphone, echoed through every corner of the theater. The man who once held me in the palm of his hand, who would ache if I even frowned, was now personally pushing me into an abyss of destruction. I stood on stage, looking at his seemingly righteous face, and suddenly laughed. I didn’t argue, didn’t struggle. Because I knew all this was evidence he had meticulously fabricated. He had spent five years setting this trap, and he would never leave me any room to turn the tables. I just stared fixedly at Julian, mouthing a phrase only we both understood: “Julian Reed, as you wish.”

Elara Vance POV I don’t know how I got back to the villa. The internet was flooded with insults; I was branded a “vicious woman” and a “murderer,” my former honors trampled into the mud. The villa was dark, silent. Julian sat on the leather sofa in the living room, a lit cigarette clutched between his fingers. The crimson glow flickered in the darkness. He never used to smoke in front of me, because I’d said I couldn’t stand the smell. But now, the entire living room reeked of choking tobacco. “Why?” I stood in the doorway, my voice so hoarse it didn’t sound like my own. Julian stubbed out the cigarette and slowly stood up. He walked step by step towards me, looking down at me. His eyes held none of their former tenderness, only bone-chilling coldness. “Why?” He sneered, then suddenly reached out and clamped my chin, his grip so strong it felt like my bones would shatter. “Five years ago, Chloe’s reputation was ruined because of you, her legs were crippled, and she could never play cello again. You ask me why?” “I didn’t do that,” I said calmly, looking at him. “It was an accident.” “Shut up!” Julian’s eyes were bloodshot. He roughly pinned me against the wall. “Even now you dare to argue! If you hadn’t bribed the judges, if you hadn’t forced her, how would she have run out in the rain?!” He leaned close to my ear, his voice laced with venom. “Elara Vance, do you know how disgusting I found it, looking at your face every day for these five years?” I didn’t struggle, letting him hold me. I looked at his familiar yet strange face and softly asked, “So, the good morning kisses, the hot milk every night, the vows under the Northern Lights, the roses on the island… were all fake?” “All of it was for today.” Julian curled his lips cruelly. “I hired the top psychologists to analyze your every weakness. I knew you feared abandonment most, yearned most to be unequivocally chosen. So, I gave you the most perfect love, made you utterly fall for me, made you abandon your career, made you have nothing but me.” “Only by lifting you to the highest point will the fall be painful enough.” He released me, watching me slide down the wall to the floor, a flash of vengeful pleasure in his eyes. “Elara Vance, this is just the beginning.” I sat on the cold floor, looking up at him. I didn’t break down crying, nor did I kneel and beg. I just stared at him, the light in my eyes extinguishing little by little, finally becoming a desolate wasteland. “Congratulations, Julian Reed,” I pulled at my dry lips. “You won.” I was calm. My gaze now was like looking at a stranger. “Don’t pretend to be indifferent.” Julian dropped a cold remark. “From tomorrow, Chloe will move in. You owe her, and you’ll spend the rest of your life paying her back.” With that, he turned and went upstairs without another glance. I sat alone in the darkness, listening to the wind outside the window. My heart was dead, even the pain had dulled. Julian, do you think you destroyed my reputation and my pride? No, what you destroyed was a woman’s unwavering, even self-sacrificing, genuine love for you.

Elara Vance POV The next day, Chloe moved into the villa. Julian gave her the master bedroom, changing the bedding to Chloe’s favorite pure white. I was relegated to the cold, damp guest room on the first floor. I was like a transparent ghost, forced to watch Julian’s extreme devotion to another woman in this “love nest” that once belonged to me. At lunch, Julian pushed Chloe into the dining room. He skillfully cut her steak into small, precisely 1.5-centimeter pieces – the size I used to prefer. He tested the soup’s temperature with his wrist, and only after confirming it wasn’t too hot, carefully spoon-fed it to Chloe. “Chloe, careful, it’s hot,” his voice was so gentle it could drip with sweetness. I stood in the corner, quietly watching this scene. It turned out that what I thought was “exclusive devotion,” those details I drowned in, were merely a program he could copy and paste onto anyone at any time. My profound love, from beginning to end, had been a joke. Chloe ate a few bites, then suddenly turned her head, looking at me in the corner, a hint of malice playing on her lips. “Julian, I’d like to hear some cello,” Chloe said softly. “I used to play for you, but now my hands are useless… could Miss Vance play for me?” Julian’s movements froze. He turned to look at me, his eyes cold. “Go get the cello.” I stood still. “I haven’t played in a long time.” “I told you to get the cello!” Julian’s voice suddenly rose. “You owe Chloe, and you’ll never be able to repay it! You’re not even willing to play for her?” I looked at the disgust in his eyes and suddenly felt incredibly weary. I no longer resisted, turning to the storage room to get the cello. It was an heirloom from my mother, a treasure I once valued more than my life. I sat in the center of the living room, and in front of Julian and Chloe, I drew the bow across the strings. Because I hadn’t practiced intensely for so long, coupled with the old injuries from my secret rehabilitation for his surprise, my fingers started to bleed in less than ten minutes. Blood flowed from my fingertips, staining the strings and dripping onto the expensive carpet. Every finger linked to my heart, an agonizing pain shot through me, yet I didn’t even frown. I mechanically played the cello, my eyes empty, staring straight ahead. Before, if I even got a small paper cut, he would be so distressed he wouldn’t sleep all night. But now, though he clenched his fists, he averted his gaze. “Enough!” Julian suddenly interrupted me impatiently. “That sounds terrible. Do you want Chloe to have nightmares? Get back to your room!” I stopped playing. I silently wiped the blood from the strings, hugged the cello, and limped back to the cold guest room. As I closed the door, I heard Chloe’s delicate voice from the living room, “Julian, don’t be angry, Miss Vance didn’t mean to…” I leaned against the back of the door, slowly sliding down. I looked at my bloodied hands and suddenly laughed. These hands, which had once cooked countless delicious meals for him, which had sketched countless portraits of him, now could only be used to satisfy his hatred.

Elara Vance POV A few days later, Chloe “accidentally” knocked over my cello in the living room. With a dull thud, that precious antique, a memento of my mother, broke its neck and was completely ruined. Julian rushed out from his study at the sound, seeing Chloe startled in her wheelchair, while I stood quietly amidst a pile of fragments. “What happened?” Julian strode over, shielding Chloe behind him. Chloe’s eyes were red, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry… I just wanted to look at the cello, I couldn’t control my wheelchair, and I accidentally bumped it… Miss Vance, please don’t blame me…” Julian looked at me coldly. He probably expected to see me become hysterical and enraged. After all, he knew how important that cello was to me; it was my last boundary. But I didn’t. I didn’t scream, didn’t question, didn’t even shed a single tear. I just calmly knelt down, picking up the broken wooden pieces one by one. Then I walked to the fireplace and threw them all into the burning flames. The flames instantly consumed the pieces, crackling loudly. “It’s just a broken cello,” Julian said stiffly. “It’s good to burn that scrap wood. Tomorrow, I’ll have someone buy you a hundred better ones.” I watched the dancing flames, my voice as light as a breeze. “No need. I won’t be playing cello anymore.” My tone was too calm, as if I were a body that had already lost its soul. Julian suddenly rushed over, grabbing my wrist, his eyes so fierce they looked like they wanted to devour me. “Who are you putting on this lifeless act for?! Do you think pretending to be pathetic will make me let you go? I’m telling you, you haven’t paid off your debt to Chloe yet. You’ll never leave me in this lifetime!” I slowly pulled my hand free from his grasp. I looked at Julian, my eyes devoid of hate or love, only endless emptiness. “Okay,” I said softly. Julian seemed enraged by my answer. To provoke a reaction from me, Julian began to escalate his torment. He cut off the funding to the orchestra of my most respected teacher, driving it to the brink of bankruptcy. He used this as leverage, forcing me to serve Chloe like a maid every day. I did everything he asked. I silently endured it all, even when Chloe deliberately splashed hot soup onto the back of my hand. I would just quietly clean it up, then turn and walk away. The more compliant I became, the more agitated Julian grew. He was like a madman flailing his fists in an abyss, desperately trying to grasp something, only to find he held nothing but ashes. What he didn’t know was that my heart had completely died, right there in the burning ashes of that cello. New York’s late autumn brought a rare downpour. Fierce winds whipped the rain against the villa’s glass windows. Late at night, my phone suddenly vibrated wildly. It was the hospital calling—my teacher, the old man who was the only one willing to believe in me and treated me like his own child after the scandal, had suffered a sudden heart attack and was in critical condition. My face instantly turned ashen. I didn’t even have time to put on a coat, stumbling towards the front door. But the door was locked. The password had been changed; even my fingerprint access was disabled. I frantically pounded on the door, then turned and rushed upstairs to the master bedroom. “Julian! Open the door! Please, open the door!” The master bedroom door opened. Julian stood in the doorway in his pajamas, his brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with you, raving like this so late? Chloe is afraid of thunder; she just managed to fall asleep.” “My teacher is in critical condition… the hospital wants me to see him one last time…” My voice trembled with extreme fear. “Julian, I beg you, open the door, let me go see him!” Julian looked at my paper-white face, a flicker of remorse in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by cold hardness. “Isn’t this just the punishment you deserve?” he said coldly. “When Chloe had her accident, her teacher also fell ill from the shock. You’re just tasting the pain she went through back then.” “I didn’t do it!” I suddenly let out a piercing scream, my knees buckling. I fell heavily onto the cold marble floor. The once proud-to-the-bone me, the me who stood tall even when everyone blamed me, was now kneeling at his feet like a dog. “Julian, I’ll give you my life, I’ll give you everything… please, let me see him one last time…” I pleaded desperately, trying to win his concession. Julian frantically pulled a remote from his pocket and pressed the unlock button. I scrambled out of the villa, rushing into the pouring rain. But it was too late. When I arrived at the hospital, soaked and bloodied, the emergency room light was already off. The doctor regretfully shook his head at me. I stood in the morgue, looking at the face covered by a white sheet on the gurney, surrounded by a deathly silence. I didn’t cry. Not a single tear fell. Extreme sorrow and despair reached their breaking point at this moment, then completely dissolved into nothingness. I reached out and gently touched my teacher’s face through the white sheet. At that moment, the last string connecting me to this world finally snapped. My love for Julian, my insistence on the truth, my hopes for the future—all died cleanly on that rainy night.

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At my mom’s funeral, my fiancée Georgina suddenly spoke. “Actually, your mom had a heart attack because she walked in on Phillips and me having sex.” My eyes widened in disbelief. Phillips was my mom’s boyfriend. My girlfriend cheated on me with my mom’s boyfriend? Georgina continued, “Phillips and I were a couple since college. He only had to date your mom because he needed to save money for his family’s medical treatment.” “Your mom struggled for forty minutes when she collapsed at the door. But we were too engrossed to hear anything, and by the time we found her, she was gone.” She looked at Mom’s portrait without a trace of guilt, a smile playing on her lips. “Your mom monopolized the man I loved for five years, and I played her son for five years. We’re even.” “Now that I’ve achieved success and Phillips is free, I’m going to marry him.” Seeing that I didn’t speak, Georgina took my hand. “Don’t worry, our wedding will still happen, so you won’t lose face in front of your friends.” “But the marriage certificate, I can only register with Phillips.”

I clutched my chest, letting out a mournful gasp. “Why are you telling me this now?” Georgina lowered her gaze and chuckled softly, her fingertips hooking my chin. “Probably just to see the expression on your face right now.” “Back then, I dropped out of college and gave all my tuition money to Phillips, but it still wasn’t enough to treat his father’s illness. But your mom took advantage of the situation and forced him to be with her.” “I was just as heartbroken back then.” She swept her gaze towards Mom’s portrait, her eyes glinting with a winner’s disdain. “Now, let her watch her son like this. Consider it my final revenge.” My heart was torn to shreds by those words. Back then, I turned down an engagement arranged by my elders long ago. I specifically fell for Georgina, who was just the owner of a small shooting club. Mom doted on me, providing her with startup capital, connecting her with valuable contacts, showering her with resources, and supporting her company every step of the way until it became successful. Georgina said meeting me was her greatest fortune, and that she and Mom would be the ‘big trees’ behind me, protecting and loving me for life. Now another tree had fallen because of her. Yet she told me that five years of affection was nothing but revenge. Georgina raised a hand to wipe away my tears. “Why are you crying? I never said I don’t like you. But I couldn’t protect Phillips back then, so you have to give me a chance to make up for that regret.” “Besides, you’re too tame in bed. I was always afraid of hurting you, so I had to go to him to really let loose. Isn’t it great that someone can share that burden with you?” Looking at her familiar yet strange face, a chill suddenly ran down my spine. Georgina was about to say more, but Phillips suddenly appeared and yelled, “Enough! What does his mom’s mistake have to do with him? Can’t you see he’s trembling?!” He guiltily took my hand. “Stephenson, I didn’t mean to keep it from you, I just didn’t want to hurt you.” “I swear, registering our marriage is just to fulfill Georgina’s and my long-held wish. Once we’re registered, I’ll divorce her right away, okay?” But Georgina grabbed his wrist, her voice commanding and strong. “Impossible! I’ve waited five years for you; I’m not letting go this time!” Watching her unabashedly declare her possessiveness over another man, I gave a self-deprecating laugh. Phillips used to be our part-time driver. Like Georgina, he was only four years older than me. His physique was as fiery as his temper, and he brought a lot of vitality to our stagnant home. Initially, when I learned he became my mom’s boyfriend, I was resistant. But when my cousin mocked me as a fatherless bastard, Phillips grabbed a bottle and rushed over, getting his own head busted. He said my mom was the gentlest and most beautiful person he had ever met. Age doesn’t hinder true love; he genuinely liked my mom and truly cared for me. I slowly accepted him, treating him as a confidant, sharing all my secret thoughts. Now he says it was all my mom’s fault. How ridiculous. “Don’t touch me! You’re disgusting!” I yanked my hand away, my voice trembling. “Get out! You’ll get what’s coming to you!” Seeing me frantically wiping my hands on my clothes, Phillips’s face changed. Georgina shielded him behind her, frowning. “Phillips already gave up the wedding for you. He just wants to register the marriage. In the eyes of outsiders, you’ll still be the future man of the house.” “You’re emotionally unstable right now, so it’s good to calm down. Phillips can stay with me these next few days.” “But Stephenson, your mom’s gone, and now I’m the only one you can rely on. Don’t be so headstrong.” They left hand in hand. In her portrait, Mom’s face was still so kind. I finally couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst into tears. “Mom, I’m so stupid, aren’t I?” “Played by my lover and friend for so long, and I dragged you into it too.” But I couldn’t fall apart. Mom was gone, and someone still needed to keep the company afloat. But the next morning, I received a text from a friend. “Stephenson, why was your family company’s sign taken down? Are you changing the name?”

When I stormed into the CEO’s office, Phillips was wearing the wedding suit that was originally meant for me, and Georgina was pressing him into a kiss. His neck and collarbone were covered in hickeys. Georgina raised an eyebrow slightly. “What are you doing here?” How ridiculous. They were in my family’s company, sitting in what used to be my mom’s office, asking me why *I* was there? Phillips nervously stood up, trying to explain. “Stephenson, don’t overthink it. I can’t have a wedding with Georgina.” “She said it would look good on me, and wanted to try it on. I’ll go take it off and give it back to you right now.” He made a move to go to the break room, but Georgina wrapped her arms around his waist. “Return what? It was custom-made to your measurements. We’ll wear this for our commemorative photos when we register our marriage in a few days. Stephenson doesn’t have your physique; he couldn’t pull it off.” “There are plenty of suits for sale outside. He can just buy one then. If he really likes this one, after you’re done with it, we can alter the size for him. The wedding is at the end of the month, anyway.” This suit was custom-designed by Georgina, who personally flew abroad to find a designer. I was afraid she wouldn’t know my measurements, so I specifically wrote her a note. But Georgina casually tossed it into the trash, then, pretending to be angry, she kissed me fiercely. “Your size? How could I not know it? Who are you looking down on?” “Penalty: you have to kiss me.” As sweet as it felt then, that’s how heartbroken I was now. The ‘darling’ she spoke of, turned out to be someone else. I took a deep breath, and suppressing my nausea, I asked, “What right do you have to order the removal of my family company’s sign? And by what authority are you sitting here?” Phillips bit his lip and spoke softly, “Stephenson, Georgina is now the new CEO.” I froze, unable to comprehend what she meant for a moment. Georgina has her own company, why would she become the CEO of my family’s company? And when did she acquire the shares? “Stephenson, last month, your family’s company first lost a key client, then couldn’t collect payments from downstream suppliers, leading to a sharp drop in revenue and widespread internal unrest.” “Compounded by your mom’s sudden death, negative news spread like wildfire, and many shareholders were dumping their stocks at low prices. I was the one who bought them back in time.” As if sensing my confusion, Georgina got up and adjusted her collar. “Now I hold 40% of the shares, more than what your mom left you. The board members are smart people; they know who can lead the company to greater success.” “I can not only bring back the key client and collect the outstanding payments, but also promise them higher returns.” Georgina cupped my face, her eyes glinting with amusement. “But Stephenson, what can you offer them? Your tears?” “You’re a hothouse flower, pampered and overprotected by your mom.” “You don’t even understand business operations, how can you handle the cutthroat world of commerce?” “Be a good boy. From now on, you just need to stay home, enjoy life, and collect your dividends at the end of the year.” “As for outside engagements, Phillips will accompany me. He’s more suited for such occasions than you.” I couldn’t stop trembling all over. I might not understand, but I wasn’t an idiot. Georgina had revealed her hatred for Mom yesterday, and she had always been ambitious. Every single one of these incidents was clearly her doing. But watching her paint herself as a savior with such understatement, my heart still ached with spasms. That year, in my senior year of college, my classmates and I went to a nearby small shooting club. One of the girls who I had rejected before scoffed, “Oh, Stephenson, you actually dare to touch a gun? Can you even use one?” “Don’t wet yourself again. Even if you begged to be with me, I’d still find you disgusting.” That’s when Georgina appeared. She steadied my hand and fired nine shots, hitting the bullseye every single time. On the tenth shot, the muzzle suddenly turned, pointing directly at the girl’s head. Though I was terrified, I quickly nudged the barrel away, and the bullet whizzed past her ear. The girl’s face went pale with fright, her pants were soaked, emitting an unpleasant smell. Georgina lowered her gaze and chuckled softly, “Look, now it’s you, a pathetic coward who only bullies the weak and fears the strong, who should be thanking someone for their kindness and innocence.”

I asked her why she helped me, and she winked at me, joking, “Ever read fairy tales? A gentle little prince always has a Rose Knight to protect him.” Later, when we were together, she really did give me a strong sense of security. But reality isn’t a fairy tale. The Rose Knight’s sharp sword ultimately turned against the Little Prince. I clenched my hands, letting my fingernails dig into my flesh. “Georgina, I’d rather die than be your other man.” Before she could speak, Phillips grabbed me, trying to mediate. “Stephenson, don’t be so headstrong. We’re trying to protect you.” Phillips’s family was poor. His brother once showed up, wanting to forcibly marry him off to an old woman. When I went to rescue him, I was stabbed in the lower abdomen, completely losing my ability to have children. If Georgina hadn’t arrived with people in time, I might not have even survived. Phillips stayed by my hospital bed, crying his eyes out. “Stephenson, you took that knife for me. For the rest of my life, I’ll shield you from all hardships.” Hearing that, I gave a self-deprecating laugh, then raised my hand and slapped him. “Your ‘protection’ means betraying my mom and wanting me to be your other man with your fiancée?” “Phillips, I really regret not letting that knife kill you back then.” Phillips’s face paled, and his eyes instantly welled up. Georgina sprang up, giving me a forceful shove. She shielded him behind her, saying coldly, “Stephenson, apologize!” “No! You two scumbags are the ones who should apologize!” Georgina’s face completely darkened, and she sneered, “Stephenson, you’ve really been spoiled by your mom. It’s okay, I’ll make you grow up.” “Now get out immediately, don’t keep me from comforting Phillips.” I stumbled out of the office building, dazed, and looked up at the company sign. My parents started their business shortly after I was born. They named the company HAPPY, hoping I’d have a safe and happy life forever. It was their boundless love for me. But now, HAPPY was gone. The new name replacing it was ‘G&P’. Georgina’s heart, belongs to Phillips. Five years of genuine devotion, nothing but a premeditated revenge. Even the company Mom built from the ground up became a tool for them to flaunt their affection. I dialed a number. “Hello, I accept your proposal. I’ll fly to Los Angeles this week and marry you.” “I don’t need any dowry; I just need your help with something.” Not wanting to return to that empty house, I went to the cemetery on the outskirts of the city. But as soon as I arrived, I found a group of people vandalizing Mom’s gravestone. They were live-streaming on their phones, filled with righteous indignation. “We found that slut’s grave!” “That bitch was lucky to die so early, but we won’t let her off easy. Justice may be delayed, but it will come!” Only then did I realize that Mom and I were both trending on social media, being publicly shamed. There were photos of Mom kindly giving Phillips money for his family’s medical treatment. And photos of me slapping Phillips in the office. Back then, Phillips cried tears of gratitude, saying he wanted to repay Mom. I clearly remember Mom saying there was no need, that it wasn’t easy for young people to make their way in the world. But now it was being twisted, claiming my mom, relying on her wealth, had coerced and intimidated a young boy into becoming her lover. Even Phillips’s swollen eyes were portrayed as him being resentful but unable to speak out, suffering immense grievances. They praised Georgina as a heroine who had endured humiliation for years, finally achieving success and reclaiming her love. They praised her for changing the company name so well. And Mom became a social pariah, reviled by everyone. My phone kept buzzing with messages, all from elders who used to be close with Mom, and friends, trying to confirm the facts. But I couldn’t respond, because that person was excitedly shouting, “Want to see this slut’s body completely destroyed?!” “If we get over 500 likes, a few of us will immediately dig up her ashes!”

That’s enough! Seriously, enough! I couldn’t bear to listen anymore. Just as I was about to rush over, I was suddenly pulled back forcefully. Georgina, followed by several bodyguards, frowned at me. “Are you crazy? Those are all agitated men, who can you stop? You’ll just get hurt for nothing!” I forcefully shook off her hand and yelled, “Don’t pretend to be kind! Do you think I don’t know that all of this is your doing?!” “Georgina, my mom never forced Phillips; it was all his choice!” “My mom was kind to you; how can you do this to her?!” Exposed by me, Georgina showed no sign of guilt. She sneered. “It’s precisely because I considered that, that I didn’t do it myself. Compared to how your mom snatched Phillips away from me back then, I’ve been quite lenient.” “You’re her son, of course you’d say that. But I believe Phillips; he wouldn’t lie to me.” “Since you know now, Stephenson, you should know what to do.” That person immediately shrieked excitedly, “Holy cow, thanks to this righteous person, we’re only 100 away now! Everyone, push harder!” “Every second you hesitate is a show of leniency toward this slut!” I clenched my fists suddenly. She would actually go through with it! Taking a deep breath, I said, “Okay, I’ll go apologize to Phillips.” To my surprise, Georgina shook her head. “Phillips is kind-hearted. He knows you’re sensitive, so an apology isn’t necessary.” “You just need to give him the 15% shares your mom left you, as an apology.” I looked at her in disbelief. “Georgina, that’s the last thing my mom left me.” She gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Silly, with me taking care of you, what good are those things to you?” “Your mom took up five years of Phillips’s youth; consider it compensation for him. You love me so much, you wouldn’t disappoint me, right?” Her tone was as gentle as ever, but I detected a full measure of coldness. In the live stream, they were only fifty likes short of five hundred. Georgina raised her phone again, her fingertip hovering lightly over the ‘Boost’ button. “Stephenson, Phillips is waiting for me. I can only give you three seconds.” “Three.” “Two.” My sharp fingernails dug into my flesh, and blood seeped out. “Okay, I promise!” Georgina made a satisfied call, shutting down that person’s live stream and removing all trending topics. At the same time, she ordered her bodyguards to drive away the crowd causing trouble at the cemetery. Watching me sign the contract, she pinched my cheek. “I just love how obedient and kind you are.” “See? Now, besides me, you have no one else to rely on. Be this good in the future, okay? I’ll take good care of you, just like your mom would have.” “City Hall on Friday, help Phillips and me with photos. Don’t be late. I promise you, I’ll give you a grand wedding at the end of the month.” After Georgina left, I staggered to Mom’s gravestone. I tried my best to wipe the paint off her photo on the gravestone with my sleeve. But unexpectedly, those people from earlier returned, carrying shovels. “So you’re her son.” “Your mom monopolized that young man, and you stole someone else’s girlfriend. Your whole family is shameless trash!” “Don’t think that just because you got the live stream shut down, we’ll let her off the hook. Today, we’ll turn her to dust and exact heavenly justice!” Terrified, I tried to stop them, but they shoved me down. In a blink of an eye, the gravestone was shattered to pieces. In my helplessness, I called Georgina. It took a long time for her to answer. “Georgina, help me, those people are back, they’re going to my mom’s…” “That’s enough, Stephenson. Don’t bring up your mom again; it’s disgusting to hear. Because of you, Phillips’s red marks still haven’t faded from his face.” “He’s worried sick it’ll affect the photos on registration day. I’m busy helping him apply compresses. Instead of discussing dead people, you should practice your photography skills!” My hand dropped limply. While holding me down, those people laughed as they smashed Mom’s urn to smithereens. Even her ashes were defiled by their filth. The sky suddenly unleashed a torrential downpour, washing everything away in the blink of an eye. Only then, muttering curses about bad luck, did they toss me aside. I knelt numbly on the ground, clutching a shattered piece of the gravestone inscribed with Mom’s name. My tears instantly burst forth. “Mom, I’m sorry.” “Give me some time; I will definitely get justice for you!” On Friday, City Hall was packed with people. Because Georgina and Phillips were finally getting their happy ending, many media outlets and curious onlookers came to witness the moment. “True love really can overcome all obstacles; after all the twists and turns, they’re still together.” “I always felt Stephenson was too soft-looking; he could never handle a sexy beauty like Ms. Georgina. It has to be a hunk like Phillips.” “Where did Stephenson go? Wasn’t he supposed to take photos for the happy couple? Maybe he realized how shameless he and his mom are and dared not show his face?” Hearing that, Georgina suddenly found it a bit grating. She gave a cold glance, then lowered her gaze to check the time. It was already half an hour past the agreed time. These past few days, I hadn’t sent her a single message. I had always been a good boy, and very dependent on her. Even when angry, I was always the first to back down. It was precisely because of this that Georgina was convinced I would never leave her. But this time, a sudden unease stirred within her. Just as she was about to call me, a reporter from some media outlet suddenly raised their phone and shouted, “Oh my god, Stephenson just registered his marriage with the Casino Magnate’s daughter!”

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I was a renowned gynecologist, widely recognized for my flawless delivery record spanning ten years. Until that day, I was accused of malpractice during surgery, resulting in a double fatality, claiming both mother and unborn child. But the truth was, the patient was already dead when I arrived. With all the evidence – witness testimonies, physical evidence, and surveillance footage – stacked against me, I was utterly defenseless. Overnight, my reputation was ruined, and I was sentenced to death. My parents, unable to bear the immense pressure, jumped to their deaths three days after my execution. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my car, rushing to the hospital. Up ahead, traffic officers were directing vehicles at the intersection. I gritted my teeth and slammed my arm into the steering wheel. I heard a sharp *snap*, and clearly felt my right arm… fracture. Rather than waiting for death, I chose self-mutilation. One arm, for a chance at life. In the moment of my execution, only one thought consumed me: ‘Innocent.’ My name is Eliza, thirty-four years old, Chief of Gynecology at the hospital, and a candidate for Deputy Director. For ten consecutive years, I had a perfect delivery record. Even my fiancé was the hospital’s top surgeon, universally acclaimed. Everyone said I was blessed with a good life. Career, love, future – everything was top-tier. I, too, believed my life was exceptionally lucky. Yet, at that very moment, my perfect life ended. But I hadn’t made a surgical error, because the patient was already dead when I arrived. No one believed me. Witness testimonies, physical evidence, surveillance footage – it was all there. The investigation team claimed I had administered an overdose of anesthetic. My fingerprints were on the syringe, and the cameras captured me entering the operating room. Even my fiancé, Marcus, testified in court, accusing me of violating protocols: “Eliza was frantic, snatching up every surgery she could, all to secure that Deputy Director position.” “She was in a terrible state that day, I warned her, but she wouldn’t listen… She said once this surgery was done, the promotion would be hers.” “I never thought something like this would happen… I thought she was at least a doctor with a conscience…” I desperately tried to refute him, but his accusations sounded so genuine. Everyone believed him, praised him for putting justice above personal ties, and called me a monster. It wasn’t until after my death that I learned the truth. That surgery, it turns out, was performed by his junior colleague, Sophia. The patient was Sophia’s, the anesthetic was administered by her, and the surgical error was hers. Marcus, to protect her, hastily called me in, intending for me to take the fall for her. He had tampered with the surveillance footage, and he had swapped the syringe to one with my fingerprints. Everything was a setup, an elaborate trap! All to make me a scapegoat for his beloved Sophia. The day my death sentence was handed down, my parents were surrounded by reporters and the victim’s family outside the courthouse. They were unable to bear the immense pressure. Three days after my execution, they jumped to their deaths. My soul could only watch helplessly, unable to do anything. I was filled with hatred, with injustice; I couldn’t rest in peace. As extreme rage consumed me, I suddenly opened my eyes. The dim streetlights shone into the car window. I grabbed my phone: March 29th, 2026, 9:22 PM. I had been reborn. Reborn to thirty minutes before I was to drive to the hospital for the surgery.

I sat in the driver’s seat, my heart hammering against my ribs, threatening to burst from my chest. Suddenly, my phone vibrated. Marcus’s name flashed across the screen. “Eliza, where are you?” “The patient is about to deliver, and the family specifically asked for you, saying they came for your reputation.” “Pre-op preparations are all done, just waiting for you to get on stage!” His voice was hurried, completely unlike the usually calm and elegant top surgeon. I knew why. At this point in the original timeline, the patient was already dead. Dead by the hands of his beloved Sophia, and he was rushing me there to take the blame. “On the road, traffic.” My voice was so calm it sounded unfamiliar even to myself. “Hurry up and get here!” “At this crucial point, as soon as this surgery is done, your Deputy Director nomination is secure.” “Then, my parents won’t object to us getting married anymore. Hurry, you need to be fast!” He lowered his voice, as if offering a bribe. In my previous life, I was deceived by those very words, rushing into the operating room like an idiot, and then falling headfirst into the trap he’d dug for me. I hung up and checked the time, 9:26 PM. Twenty-six minutes remained until the fateful surgery of my past life. I sat in the driver’s seat, my fingers trembling uncontrollably. The scenes from my death in the previous life replayed in my mind. The needle piercing my vein. My parents plummeting from the rooftop. Marcus accusing me in court, saying I was frantic for surgeries to get a promotion. If I stepped into that operating room before 9:52 PM, all the evidence would condemn me. No! Not this time. I absolutely would not repeat the same mistakes. But what could I do now? I couldn’t go to the hospital. I couldn’t enter that operating room. I couldn’t touch that surgery. Because they had meticulously planned every step. The moment I arrived, I would walk right into their trap. The evidence would automatically converge, leaving me no room to fight back. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. I needed an airtight alibi at 9:52 PM. What kind of alibi would be ironclad? One that could prevent their false accusations? One that would turn all his arrangements into a joke? I looked up and saw traffic officers directing cars at the intersection ahead. Suddenly, an idea formed in my mind. I would injure myself. I would be sent to the emergency room. I would be lying on someone else’s operating table. Only then, at 9:52 PM, would I be fully documented in the ER by doctors, nurses, and surveillance, instead of being framed in the operating room. One arm, for one life – this was the only way out. Without a moment’s hesitation, I gritted my teeth and violently slammed my right arm into the steering wheel.

I heard a sharp *snap*, and clearly felt the bone break. Excruciating pain instantly exploded, and cold sweat immediately drenched me. My vision blurred, and I nearly passed out. Enduring the sharp pain, I used my left hand to press the horn twice. My arm was broken; I was a patient. There was no way I could be performing surgery! The traffic officer ahead immediately noticed the anomaly and hurried over to tap on my car window. “What’s wrong? Do you need help?” I was in too much pain to speak, my face pale, my forehead covered in sweat. I pointed to my right arm with my left hand. The officer’s expression changed immediately when he saw the unnatural angle of my arm: “A broken arm? How did this happen?” I didn’t answer, just shook my head in agony. Without another word, the officer spoke into his walkie-talkie: “Injured person at the intersection, right arm broken, needs immediate medical attention!” Soon, an ambulance arrived, and I was loaded onto a stretcher. Red and blue lights flashed as it sped toward the hospital with sirens blaring. I lay on the stretcher, drenched in cold sweat, my right arm burning with pain. But the enormous weight on my heart had finally lifted. At 9:52 PM, I would be entering the ER. No matter how perfect their setup, they couldn’t make me be in two places at once. Ten minutes later, I was taken into the treatment room. Doctors and nurses surrounded me, cutting open my sleeve. X-rays, anesthetic, reduction. People came and went in the treatment room. I was shaking from the pain, but my consciousness remained clear. I glanced at the clock on the wall: 9:49 PM. Only three minutes remained until the patient’s fabricated time of death in Marcus’s timeline. In my previous life, I would have been entering the operating room at this exact moment, captured by surveillance video. Coupled with the physical evidence bearing my fingerprints, intentionally placed by Marcus, I would have been utterly defenseless. But in this life, I was in the treatment room. Two traffic officers, three medical personnel, and seven surveillance cameras would all serve as my alibi. “Sign here.” The nurse handed me the admission consent form. I caught a glimpse of the wall clock with my peripheral vision: 9:52 PM. It was precisely the time Marcus had fabricated as the patient’s death in my past life. I signed my name, clicked submit, and the time froze at 9:52 PM. It was done! At the exact time of the patient’s death, I was in the treatment room. With surveillance footage, medical records, and full documentation from the medical staff. Marcus couldn’t talk his way out of this; he couldn’t make me appear in two places at once. Just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, my phone rang. It was Marcus. I glanced at it, but didn’t answer. He must be frantic now, right? His beloved Sophia’s malpractice had resulted in a double fatality, and he wanted me to take the blame, but couldn’t find me. Serves him right! I simply turned off my phone. By the time the reduction was done and the cast was applied, it was past ten o’clock. I leaned back on the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. In my previous life, at this time, I would have already been taken away by the police, and the news would have broken. “Women’s Hospital Chief Doctor Eliza’s Malpractice Leads to Patient’s Death!” But in this life, I never entered the operating room. I was alive, and I was innocent. My parents wouldn’t die either. I closed my eyes, wondering what was happening in the operating room. But I could guess that Marcus hadn’t been idle. He must have changed his plan, intending to shift the blame for the operating room malpractice and patient’s death onto me. Sure enough, a moment later, hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway. The door burst open, and a police officer in uniform entered first. “Eliza?” He flashed his badge and said: “We’re from the Criminal Investigations Unit.” “Someone just reported a medical accident at the hospital, resulting in a patient’s death, and you are suspected of violating protocols.” “Please cooperate with the investigation and come with us.”

Hearing that, all the surrounding nurses froze. I, however, remained exceptionally calm, because I had already been through this once. Only this time, I hadn’t gone into the hospital’s operating room; I had a solid alibi. “Medical accident?” I feigned confusion, asking, “What medical accident?” “An hour ago, at 9:52 PM, a surgery you performed resulted in the patient’s death on the operating table.” “The cause of death was an anesthetic overdose, leading directly to cardiac arrest.” The detective stated in a cold voice: “Surgeon Marcus identified you as the one who performed this surgery, and the syringe used to inject the anesthetic also has your fingerprints on it.” I listened quietly. Every detail was exactly the same as in my previous life. If this were my past life, I would have already collapsed by now. I would have frantically tried to explain. But now, I just looked up, calmly meeting his gaze: “You said, what was the patient’s time of death?” The detective paused: “The surgical record shows 9:52 PM.” 9:52 PM? I almost laughed out loud. 9:52 PM was when I signed the admission consent form. The detective said no more, raising a hand to signal the people behind him to step forward: “Take her back to the station for interrogation.” Just then, a nurse suddenly reached out to stop them: “Wait a minute.” He slapped the patient’s medical record onto the table, pointed to the signature time on it, and asked: “This patient broke her right arm at 9:26 PM and was undergoing fracture reduction in the treatment room at 9:52 PM.” “X-rays, surveillance, medical staff signatures, it’s all here.” “Now you tell me, how could she simultaneously be in the operating room causing someone’s death?” The detective was about to speak when someone suddenly rushed in from outside the door – Marcus. He grabbed my wrist, looking utterly distraught: “Eliza, the patient is dead! Don’t you know that?” “You need to cooperate with the investigation right now and explain everything clearly, and you might get a lighter sentence!” His words, on the surface, seemed to be for my good, but in reality, every word was cementing my status as a murderer. I sneered and retorted, “The patient’s death has nothing to do with me. I never even entered the operating room.” Marcus’s face changed, and his grip on my hand tightened further: “Eliza, don’t talk nonsense in front of the police.” “And all the evidence points to you now. If you confess, the judge will consider a reduced sentence…” Saying this, he turned his head to the detective, his tone earnest: “Officer, she might just be confused right now… I’m advising her, I’m advising her to confess… Will confessing lead to a reduced sentence?” Reduced sentence? He wished for my immediate execution. Taking a deep breath, I was about to produce the evidence to shut him up. But Sophia followed closely behind, bringing the patient’s family with her: “Eliza, I know you wanted to snatch this surgery to prove yourself… but how could you…” “How could you gamble with the lives of the patient and her baby for a promotion…” As if things weren’t chaotic enough, she threw another accusation my way: “Actually… the patient and baby could have been saved, but Eliza… made frequent errors, which led to the patient… a double fatality…” Hearing that, anger flared within me. Staring at her, I said each word distinctly: “Sophia, you were the one who performed that surgery.” “You were the one whose error led to the patient’s death, not me.” Her face paled, and her tears fell even harder. She retreated half a step, shrinking behind Marcus, whimpering softly: “Eliza… how could you accuse me… This was clearly your doing…” Marcus immediately stepped in front of her, glaring at me: “Eliza, how long are you going to keep this up?!” I wasn’t “keeping it up.” But I didn’t get a chance to explain. Because the patient’s family was too emotional; they lunged at me without thinking: “It was you! You killed my wife!” A middle-aged man suddenly rushed up, his eyes bloodshot, and kicked my newly bandaged right arm. Pain. Excruciating pain. My newly bandaged arm was broken again. The pain made my vision blur, and cold sweat instantly drenched me. I gritted my teeth, trying to explain: “I didn’t… kill anyone… It wasn’t me!” But no one listened. The patient’s mother even dropped to her knees, pounding the floor and wailing uncontrollably: “Oh, God, my daughter was only twenty-six!” “Her baby never even saw this world! How can this murderer still be alive?!” Cries, curses, and attempts to break up the fight mixed together. The room instantly descended into pandemonium. All eyes were on me, as if I were a heinous criminal. I clutched my right arm, leaning against the wall, trembling from the pain. And the patient’s husband, still agitated, was about to kick me again. “Stop!” The detective finally reacted, reaching out to separate the family members, and said: “This patient broke her right arm at 9:26 PM and was undergoing fracture reduction in the treatment room at 9:52 PM.” “X-rays, surveillance, medical staff signatures, it’s all here. She couldn’t possibly have been on the operating table causing someone’s death!” The room fell silent instantly. Marcus’s face turned white. Sophia completely froze.

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“Mia madre è una maiale grassa e imponente.” Outside the kindergarten, my six-year-old son introduced me to the other kids in Italian. The kids didn’t understand, they just laughed along. I understood, because every single sound in that sentence was something I had taught him. I stood outside the school gate, seven months pregnant, my heart aching. Orwell saw me, and the smile instantly vanished from his face. I reached out for his backpack. But he pulled it behind him, wrinkling his nose. “Mom, you smell.” I froze. It’s easy to sweat in the late stages of pregnancy, but I’d definitely changed before leaving. A child nearby asked him, “Is that your mom?” Orwell didn’t answer right away. After a few seconds, he looked down and mumbled, “Yeah.” He said it reluctantly, as if admitting I was his mom was something shameful. I looked at him. “Who taught you that Italian phrase just now?” His eyes flickered. “What Italian phrase?” “You said I was like a fat pig.” He lowered his head, kicking at the leaves on the ground, saying nothing. I asked again, “Did Dad say it?” Orwell pursed his lips. “Everyone says that. Eleanor said you’re getting less like your old self since you got pregnant with my sister.” My belly gave a gentle kick. I leaned against the railing beside me. Suddenly, the burning sensation in my palm didn’t hurt as much. What truly hurt was that I had personally taught him to speak. But after he learned, the first thing he learned was how to despise me.

My name is Chloe. Before I got married, I was an Italian translator. The year Fisher first started his company, he couldn’t even write a proper business email. The first time we met an Italian client, everything from how to greet them, how to quote prices, to how to write the after-sales terms – I guided him through every single step. That night, the client changed their requirements at the last minute, and Fisher paced anxiously in the living room. I sat at the computer, revising the proposal from scratch, then translating it sentence by sentence into Italian. At two in the morning, he was asleep on the sofa. I was still replying to emails for him. Later, when the deal was signed, he got drunk at dinner and slapped his chest, saying, “Good thing I kept my cool.” I just smiled back then. Now that I think about it, he didn’t forget my contribution. He just never planned to credit me for it. Later, the company grew bigger and bigger. Fisher bought a new car, moved into a mansion, and everyone around him called him Mr. Fisher. After I got pregnant with Orwell, Eleanor, my mother-in-law, advised me to quit my job. “The first three years of a child’s life are crucial. Can you really trust strangers to raise them?” Fisher also said, “You just stay home and rest for a few years. I’ll make the money.” I believed him. And that ‘rest’ lasted for six years. In those six years, I raised Orwell from a crying infant into a bright, accomplished child. He played piano, played chess, and spoke foreign languages. His kindergarten teachers praised his intelligence, and relatives praised Fisher for his parenting. Eleanor always grinned from ear to ear, “Our family’s kids are just different.” No one ever mentioned me. Occasionally someone would ask, “Wasn’t Chloe a translator before?” Eleanor would cut in, “She’s got it good now, staying home with the kids. How hard can that be?” I used to smile, thinking there was no need to be petty with family. Until today, when Orwell used the Italian I taught him to insult me. He reached out again, “Mom, I want ice cream.” Before, when he reached out, I would immediately take his backpack, water bottle, and jacket, then ask him if he’d been good at school today. Today, I didn’t move. “No ice cream today.” He looked up at me. “Why?” “Because you just humiliated me.” He looked surprised, as if he hadn’t expected me to say that. “But I didn’t say it in English.” I looked at him. “Using a different language doesn’t make it less hurtful.” His face flushed. “You’re mean. Eleanor says you’re always complaining since you got pregnant with my sister.” I opened the car door. “Get in.” He stood still. Before, when he did this, I would crouch down and coax him. Today, I just put his backpack in the car. “If you don’t get in, you can walk home.” Orwell froze. He looked at me as if it was the first time he’d ever heard me say something like that. Three seconds later, he cried. Loudly. Many parents at the school gate looked our way. I didn’t comfort him; I waited for him to cry. Eventually, he got tired of crying and climbed into the backseat. Halfway home, he deliberately unscrewed his water bottle cap, spilling water all over. I glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “You clean it up when we get home.” He said, “This is Dad’s car.” I said, “You’re the one who dirtied it.” He widened his eyes. “You never used to be like this.” The traffic light ahead turned red, and I hit the brakes. “I never knew you all would be like this, either.”

Back home, Eleanor was watching TV in the living room. Orwell immediately ran to complain. “Eleanor, Mom wouldn’t let me have ice cream, and she told me to clean the car!” Eleanor immediately put down the remote. “Chloe, why are you so impatient just because you’re pregnant? What’s wrong with Orwell wanting some ice cream?” I changed my shoes and placed my prenatal check-up book on the entryway cabinet. “He insulted me at the kindergarten gate today.” Eleanor frowned. “What could he have said to insult you?” I looked at her. “He said I was like a fat pig.” Her face stiffened, just for a moment. But I saw it. She knew. At least, she’d heard similar words before. Sure enough, the next second, she started to cover it up. “He’s just a kid, what does he know? He must have learned it from a cartoon.” “He said Fisher said it.” Eleanor’s face instantly darkened. “Don’t blame everything on Fisher. He’s so busy at work every day, when would he have time to teach the kid stuff like that?” I asked, “Then what about Mia?” The living room fell silent, the TV still playing laughter. None of us spoke. Mia, Fisher’s administrative assistant. Twenty-six years old, always wearing white dresses, speaking softly. Last month, she came to the house to deliver documents and brought Orwell a LEGO set. Orwell was thrilled all evening. At the time, I even laughed and said, “You’re so good with kids.” Now that I think about it, she really was good at charming people. A LEGO set and a few sweet words were enough to make a six-year-old remember her kindness. Meanwhile, all the sleepless nights I’d pulled, the meals I’d cooked, the hospital visits I’d made, the classes I’d attended – all of it just became “what a mother is supposed to do.” Orwell ran to grab the remote. “Eleanor, I want to watch cartoons.” I said, “No cartoons today.” Eleanor shielded him. “He’s been at school all day, what’s wrong with him relaxing a bit?” I took the remote. “He humiliated me today, so no cartoons.” Eleanor got agitated. “Why are you arguing with a six-year-old?” I looked at her. “When you were teaching him to look down on me, why didn’t you remember he was only six?” Her face turned ugly. “Don’t spread lies.” I ignored her. I went into the kitchen and cooked myself a bowl of pasta. Only one bowl. Eleanor stood at the doorway. “What’s Orwell eating tonight?” “You make him something.” She looked like she didn’t understand. “Didn’t you already cook?” “I only cooked for myself.” “Chloe, what do you mean?” I brought the pasta out and sat at the dining table. “It means that from today on, whoever feels sorry for him can cook for him.” Orwell sat on the sofa, staring at me, bewildered. I never used to let him go hungry. Even if he’d just thrown a tantrum at me, broken a knife or fork, I’d turn around and go into the kitchen to make him pudding, pan-fry a steak, or cut fruit. Today, I didn’t. Eleanor angrily went into the kitchen and started clanking pots. Ten minutes later, she brought out a plate of burnt steak. Orwell took a bite, frowning. “It tastes awful.” Eleanor’s face hardened. “Eat it anyway.” He looked at me. “Mom, I want your cooking.” I lowered my head and ate my pasta. “Not today.” His eyes reddened. “You don’t love me anymore.” That sentence used to work wonders on me. As soon as he asked if Mom didn’t love him anymore, I’d panic. I’d hug him, kiss him, and explain a hundred times that I loved him. Today, I just put down my knife and fork. “Love doesn’t mean you get to hurt me whenever you want.” He didn’t understand. But he knew, crying wouldn’t work this time.

Fisher returned at nine in the evening, carrying a paper bag. I recognized it at a glance; it was from the dessert shop Mia often bought from. Orwell rushed over. “Dad!” Fisher bent down to hug him, handing him the paper bag. “Mia got you this.” Orwell happily tore it open. Inside was a box of macarons. Eleanor smiled. “Mia is so thoughtful.” I sat on the sofa. “Fisher, we need to talk.” He paused while taking off his jacket. “About what?” “About what you’ve been saying about me in front of the kid.” Fisher glanced at Orwell. “What did Orwell say now?” I repeated the Italian phrase. His expression wasn’t shocked, just impatient at being exposed. “Chloe, can you just not be so sensitive right now?” I asked, “Did you say it or not?” He tugged at his tie. “Just joking around.” “Joking around with whom?” He didn’t speak. I answered for him. “Mia?” Eleanor immediately cut in. “Why are you bringing up Mia? She’s a good, decent girl, don’t think the worst of people.” I looked at her. “She’s so decent she buys Orwell desserts and teaches him to compare her to me?” Fisher frowned. “You’re getting more and more unpleasant.” I gave a small laugh. “I’m already like a pig, how much more unpleasant can I get?” Fisher was speechless. Orwell sat to the side, holding a macaron. He looked at me, then at his dad. Finally, he mumbled, “Mom, don’t argue.” I asked, “Why not?” He said, “Dad works really hard to earn money.” A six-year-old wouldn’t randomly feel sorry for a dad who “works really hard to earn money.” Unless someone taught him that every day. I looked at Eleanor. She avoided my gaze. I suddenly understood that Orwell hadn’t turned out like this overnight. He had simply learned, word by word, the daily contempt that the adults in this house let slip. I stood up. “Fisher, let’s get a divorce.” The TV was still laughing, but no one in the living room responded. A few seconds later, Eleanor was the first to shriek, “Are you crazy?” Fisher stared at me. “Just because of one sentence from the kid?” I looked at him. “It’s not just one sentence.” That sentence was just the final straw. It was when I finally heard clearly how much badmouthing this family had been doing behind my back.

Fisher didn’t take the divorce seriously; he even chuckled. “Chloe, you’re pregnant now, your emotions are unstable. I won’t argue with you.” I nodded. “Then let’s talk when I’m stable.” He thought that was the end of it. The next morning, he still tossed his worn shirt into the laundry basket. “Iron the blue one for me this afternoon. I have a dinner engagement tonight.” I stood at the sink, brushing my teeth. “Iron it yourself.” He froze. “What?” I spat out my mouthwash. “I said, iron it yourself.” Fisher frowned. “Chloe, don’t take your anger out on our daily life.” I looked at him in the mirror. “The clothes are yours, the dinner is yours, your reputation is yours. How did it become my daily life?” His face darkened. “You’re home all day, and you can’t even do this much?” I put my toothbrush back in the cup. “I’m home, but I’m not your household assistant.” He stared at me for a long time, then sneered. “Fine, you win.” After that day, the house quickly descended into chaos. Fisher couldn’t find his socks. Eleanor forgot to pack Orwell’s water bottle. No one set up Orwell’s online class equipment beforehand, and the teacher called his name for ages, but his microphone was still off. Who filled the water bottle? Who matched the socks? Who set up the equipment before class? No one asked. They just thought that’s how things were supposed to be. At 7:40 PM, Orwell called me from his room. “Mom, Italian class is about to start!” I walked to the door. “Not accompanying you today.” He froze. “Why?” “You’ll go by yourself from now on.” “I can’t!” I said, “You can insult people in Italian, so you must be learning well.” His face instantly flushed. “I don’t want to go by myself! The teacher said a parent has to be there!” “Then have your dad go.” Orwell opened his mouth. He knew his dad wouldn’t go. Fisher was busy, and Eleanor didn’t speak a foreign language. The only person in the house who could follow his entire lesson was me. Before, when he didn’t study well, I was more anxious than he was. I’d message the teacher, take notes, record the class afterwards, and organize his mistakes. He just had to sit there and wait for me to spoon-feed him the knowledge. Now that I wasn’t spoon-feeding him, he panicked. “Mom, I won’t say bad things about you anymore, okay? Please come to class with me?” I looked at him. “An apology isn’t meant to buy a service.” He didn’t understand the words. But he understood that I wouldn’t be there. That evening, the teacher called me. “Chloe, Orwell wasn’t doing very well today.” I said, “For future academic matters, please contact his father directly.” Five minutes later, Fisher’s phone rang. He was in his study on a video call. I heard him say in a hushed voice, “For things like the kid’s studies, just contact his mom.” The teacher must have said something, because Fisher looked my way. I sat on the sofa, slowly drinking water. He hung up, his tone harsh. “Chloe, do you have to drag the kid into this too?” I said, “The child isn’t just mine.” “But you always handled it before?” “So I was wrong before.” Fisher laughed in exasperation. “You’re just going to stop taking care of it now?” I put down my cup. “Yes.” He looked at me as if he were seeing me for the first time. Perhaps in his eyes, Chloe shouldn’t say “yes.” Chloe should explain, should feel wronged, should say, “That’s not what I meant.” But I didn’t want to explain anymore.

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In my previous life, I was finally recognized and brought back into the Sterling family. My biological brother, Joseph, accused me of causing Grace’s illness to protect her, his adopted sister. My biological parents believed him and kicked me out. Not long after, I died on the streets from my illness. When I woke up again, I was back on the day I was taken into the Sterling family. Joseph stood in front of my parents, pointing at me and saying, “Mom, Dad, she’s not my sister at all!” My parents gave me a disappointed look, then turned and walked away. I stood there, didn’t pull out the sapphire necklace that could prove my identity, and quietly walked back to the orphanage. Twenty years later, I became a leading internal medicine specialist in the country. The man sitting opposite me handed over a medical record, his voice trembling: “Doctor Harper, please, I beg you, save my sister.” I paused when I saw the name. My gaze fell on his haggard face. After staring for a long time, I finally looked at the man and said, “I’m not taking this patient.”

Joseph froze. “What did you say?” I closed the medical record and pushed it back to him. “I’m not taking this patient.” The consultation room fell silent. Joseph stared at me, his brows furrowing tighter and tighter. Grace, in the wheelchair, looked a bit pale, but it was clear she had decent energy. Twenty years. They’d lived truly well. Joseph had become the heir to the Sterling Group, and Grace was the apple of their eye, cherished by the entire family. And they probably would never recognize that the woman sitting before them, the Head of Internal Medicine wearing glasses, was the real daughter they’d locked out of their home all those years ago. “I know you’re the most authoritative internist, and it’s not easy to get an appointment with you.” “But don’t worry, money isn’t an issue. As long as you can cure Grace, name your price.” Joseph placed a black card on my desk, held between two fingers. I glanced down, then looked up at him. “The hospital has its rules. And I’m not taking her case because her condition falls outside my specialty.” “What do you mean?” Joseph was stunned again. “I’ve made inquiries. You’ve even brought back patients with late-stage heart failure.” “Grace only has a heart murmur and occasional angina. Are you telling me you can’t treat her?” Grace coughed twice, tugging on Joseph’s sleeve. “Joseph, it’s fine… I don’t want you to have to beg and grovel for me…” This act was identical to how she looked in my previous life when she falsely accused me of pushing her down the stairs. Joseph’s heart ached for her. He squeezed her hand, then looked back at me, his gaze like daggers. “Dr. Harper, is it not enough money? Fine, I’ll propose something else.” “If you accept Grace as a patient today, tomorrow, the Sterling Group will donate thirty million to your Cardiology Department for new equipment.” “Is that condition good enough?” A few intern doctors nearby gasped, but I didn’t even bat an eye. “Mr. Sterling, when I choose a patient, I look at the illness, not the money.” “I’m not treating your sister’s condition. Take the card and leave.” Joseph scoffed, his eyes filled with extreme disdain. “You just don’t have the confidence to cure Grace, do you? ‘Top expert’? I bet it’s all hype!” “Joseph, stop talking, my chest hurts…” Grace clutched her chest, breathing heavily. “Grace!” Joseph panicked, quickly motioning for the bodyguards to push the wheelchair. As he reached the door, he turned back and glared at me. After they left, I touched the cold sapphire necklace in my pocket. The next morning, right after I finished my rounds, Director Davies, who was usually all smiles, walked into my office with a grim expression. “Harper, you’re fired.” I stopped writing and looked up at him. “Reason?” “Reason?” The director snorted coldly. “What kind of attitude did you have towards Mr. Sterling yesterday? As a doctor, do you have any ethics, any humanitarian spirit? To refuse a seriously ill patient!” My gaze shifted downwards, catching sight of the brand-new watch on his wrist, which hadn’t been there yesterday. I understood. “How much did he pay you?” My tone was flat. The director’s face changed, then flushed with anger. “What nonsense! This is the hospital board’s decision! Pack your things and get out now!”

I didn’t say anything. I took off my lab coat, folded it, placed it on the back of my chair, picked up my car keys from the desk, and turned to leave. Joseph stood by a pillar in the middle of the hospital lobby, wearing sunglasses, one hand casually in his pocket. He was clearly waiting for me. Seeing me walk over, hugging a cardboard box, he took off his sunglasses, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Dr. Harper, leaving work so early?” “Yesterday, when you rejected me, you seemed pretty tough, didn’t you? How is it that today you can’t even keep your job?” He leaned in a little, lowering his voice. “Harper, starting today, no hospital in this country will dare to hire you.” He watched me, waiting to see a look of panic on my face, waiting for me to beg. But I didn’t. I just looked at him calmly. He frowned, seemingly displeased with my reaction. “However, I can offer you one last path.” “Come to my house, be Grace’s private doctor, on call twenty-four hours a day.” “Cure her, and I guarantee you’ll be set for life. What do you say?” I suddenly chuckled. “Joseph.” He paused. “Do you really think your family is the only one with money in this world?” I didn’t waste any more words, walking past him and out of the hospital. He didn’t know that I wasn’t just the Vice Director of this hospital or a famous internist in this city. I was also Mr. Allegri’s only adopted daughter, the head of the Allegri Medical Group. I came to this public hospital merely to hone my skills and complete the assessment Mr. Allegri had set for me. In the entire national medical field, the Allegri family was the true power. Blacklist me? Ridiculous. That evening, as I was scrolling through my phone, a trending topic about me popped up: Top Expert Refuses to Save Life, City Central Hospital’s Dr. Harper Accused of Bribery, Cold-Blooded Demon with No Medical Ethics. A video was going viral across the entire internet. It showed: Grace sitting in a wheelchair, her face haggard and distressed, constantly clutching her chest. Joseph was beside her, pleading with me to treat her: “Dr. Harper, please save my sister, we have money…” Then the camera cut to me, showing only a cold image: “I’m not taking her. Take the card and leave.” Immediately after, an account claiming to be an “insider” broke the news: “I’m an internal employee at City Central Hospital. This doctor is no good at all. She secretly demands money from patients!” “The Sterling family didn’t pay her enough, so she refused to treat the patient! The director found out about her misconduct and fired her this morning!” The comment section below was almost entirely filled with insults directed at me. “Viper! How can a woman like this even be a doctor?” “Even capitalists have more conscience than her! This doctor has no heart! Demanding a thorough investigation!” “Heard she got blacklisted across the internet, serves her right! Such scum should just die!” Grace also posted a tweet. The accompanying photo showed a pale, almost bluish wrist with an IV drip. The text read: “Perhaps my life is counting down, but I still believe there’s light in this world. I don’t blame Dr. Harper; it’s just my bad luck.” Countless people swarmed my account. My DMs were full of curses, morphed death photos, and other hateful messages. I scoffed internally. It was Director Davies who took Joseph’s bribe to fire me, yet he turned around and smeared my name. I’d experienced the same trick in my previous life. Grace had an “episode,” and he blamed it on me, then edited videos and fabricated lies to post online, ruining my reputation completely. I called Joseph. It rang several times before he picked up. His scornful and triumphant voice came through: “What? Dr. Harper finally giving up?” I didn’t respond to that. I just said, “Joseph, I agree to treat Grace.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a burst of even more arrogant laughter. “If you knew this would happen, why resist in the first place?” I cut Joseph off. “But I have one condition. I want this consultation live-streamed across the entire internet.” The laughter on the other end ceased abruptly. “Live stream?” His voice turned cold. “Harper, you’re being trashed online right now. Are you live-streaming because you haven’t been insulted enough?” I looked out the window, a slow smile forming on my lips. “A live stream. In front of millions of people, I’ll humbly treat your family member. Isn’t that what you want?” “I can use this opportunity to publicly admit my mistakes and find a way out for myself.” Joseph was silent. After a few seconds, he let out a highly amused hum. “Harper, you really know how to play the game.” “Fine, since you want to publicly embarrass yourself, I’ll allow it.” “However,” I shifted my tone, “we must keep the live stream a secret from Grace. She’s a patient; knowing so many people are watching might make her emotional.” “If anything happens to her because of that, I won’t be responsible.” Joseph didn’t think much of it and readily agreed. The next morning, I arrived at the consultation location Joseph had set: the VIP ward floor on the top of City Central Hospital. Two familiar faces stood at the door. A man and a woman, both in their fifties. The man was tall, wearing a dark gray cashmere coat. The woman wore an elegant navy trench coat, exuding grace. “You’re Dr. Harper?” Eleanor, Joseph’s mother, asked in a gentle voice. I nodded. “That’s me.” She looked me up and down, then nodded slightly. “I’m Grace’s mother. I’ve heard about you.” “Dr. Harper, Grace is a child we raised since she was small. We are sincere in inviting you here today.” She took a business card from her bag and offered it to me. I didn’t take it, and she didn’t seem bothered. “Cure Grace, and fame and fortune are no issue.” “I’ll take care of you being fired from City Central Hospital.” “And I can guarantee that the Sterling Group’s resources within the national healthcare system will be at your disposal.” “This is the Sterling family’s sincerity.” I glanced at her. Unfortunately, I lacked none of what she offered. “Mrs. Sterling, I’m here to treat a patient today. We can discuss other matters after the consultation.” Eleanor’s eyes flickered but quickly returned to composure. Richard, Joseph’s father, cleared his throat when he heard me say that. His gaze wasn’t as gentle as Eleanor’s. “Harper, what my wife said is her intention.” “My intention is, if you can cure Grace’s illness, our family will not treat you unfairly.” He paused. “Your reputation is already in tatters. This live stream today, which you requested, is your last chance.” “If you can’t cure her, there will be no place for you in the entire medical industry.” I just stood there, meeting his gaze for three seconds. “Mr. Sterling, whether I can cure her or not, we’ll only know after the examination.” With that, I walked past him and pushed open the door to the ward. He frowned slightly, as if pondering something. Then he and Eleanor followed me in. Once inside, they didn’t say another word, but sat quietly to the side. Joseph was sitting on the sofa, peeling an apple. He glanced at me, then his eyes flickered towards the air conditioning vent, and then at the decorative ornament on the bedside table. He must have hidden the camera there.

At this very moment, a live stream channel was already open online. The title read: Cold-Blooded Medical Expert Dr. Harper Publicly Submits, Live Consultation Session. Because the Sterling Group was actively promoting it, coupled with the lingering heat from yesterday’s trending topic, countless netizens were fuming. Less than ten minutes after starting, millions of people flooded in, and the comments scrolled like a blizzard. “This scumbag finally backed down! Capitalism did a great job this time!” “Let’s all watch how this quack begs for mercy!” “My heart aches for Grace, having to face this demonic doctor.” Grace lay on the hospital bed, her face still haggard and pale. Seeing me, she flinched. “Joseph…” She had no idea that millions of eyes were watching her. “Don’t be afraid. She’s here to treat you this time.” Joseph handed her the apple, then stood up and walked over to me. Knowing he was on camera, he adopted a very arrogant posture. “Harper, start now. Hurry up and treat Grace.” “If you can’t cure her, you’ll be out of the medical field forever.” I ignored him, walking straight to the medical cart beside the bed. As I put on my gloves, I gave him a cold glance. Joseph gritted his teeth, but mindful of the camera, he restrained himself from reacting, just letting out a cold scoff. He stepped back, hands in his pockets, and the room fell silent. With my back to the hidden camera, I picked up the stethoscope and placed it on Grace’s chest. “Breathe in. Breathe out.” Grace was very cooperative, her breathing especially heavy, her brows furrowed. The comments again filled with sympathy for her and insults for me. I put down the stethoscope and picked up the stack of medical reports the Sterling family had accumulated from various hospitals over the years. Late-stage heart failure, myocardial ischemia. The diagnoses were increasingly severe. I flipped through them page by page, my brows slowly drawing together. After about five minutes, I threw the stack of reports onto the bed with a smack. Taking off my gloves, I turned around. “Grace, your condition is indeed quite difficult to treat.” Joseph scoffed towards the camera. “What do you mean? Aren’t you an authority? Even you can’t cure her? I think you’re just a quack!” The comments started flooding in again: “Quack! She really is a quack!” “She’s just trying to shirk responsibility! The Sterling family should blacklist her quickly!” I ignored them and said softly, “Because your sister isn’t sick at all.”

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My boyfriend’s face was full of impatience when he ditched me at our anniversary dinner because of a call from his childhood sweetheart. “I was with you through thick and thin. She just got fired and is a mess. What’s the big deal about being a little understanding?” I froze, pulling at the corners of my stiff lips. There it was again: “I was with you through thick and thin.” Ever since we pulled through the toughest times of our startup three years ago, that phrase had been his golden ticket out of any argument. I had a high fever and urgently needed to go to the hospital. But he drove to pick up his drunk childhood sweetheart: “I lived in a leaky basement with you. Why are you making a fuss about taking a cab to the ER by yourself?” I worked overtime for a month straight, my stomach hurt so bad I broke out in a cold sweat. But he brought homemade chicken soup to Chloe, who was suffering from period cramps: “I ate expired bread with you for six months. Are you really going to fuss over a bowl of soup with her?” Now, watching him rush out of the restaurant without a backward glance, I coldly called the waiter for the check. He probably forgot. Today was the day I said yes to his proposal. I managed a bitter smile and took off the diamond ring on my finger. If he loved suffering so much. Then he could forget about touching a single penny of our future wealth.

“Send over that haute couture necklace. Chloe just got fired, she’s really upset, she needs something to distract her.” “I was there for you during your severe depression. Are you really going to fuss over a necklace?” Ethan’s SnapChat lit up on the screen. I stared at those words, my fingertips trembling. He always did this, skillfully rewriting history, portraying himself as a long-suffering savior. But he forgot why I had severe depression in the first place. It was to secure investments for him. I drank with investors until my stomach bled, ending up in the hospital for half a month. It was to cover the financial collapse caused by his poor decisions. I sold the heirlooms my grandmother left me, and for six months straight, I slept only three hours a day. Now, he was taking the money I risked my life for, to comfort another woman. I didn’t reply, slamming my foot on the gas. I turned the car around and drove towards the villa, our dream home we’d just gotten the keys to last month. The moment I pushed open the door, the villa was brightly lit. I froze in the entryway, my blood turning to ice instantly. Chloe was wearing the wedding dress I’d finalized after thirteen rounds of revisions. She stood in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling mirror. Ethan was half-kneeling on the floor, carefully adjusting the hem of her skirt. Hearing the door open, Chloe’s eyes immediately welled up: “Scarlett, please don’t get the wrong idea.” “I was so upset about getting fired today. Ethan said this wedding dress was beautiful and told me to try it on to feel a moment of happiness…” “I’ll take it off right away.” She said she’d take it off, but her hands clutched the skirt tightly. A tear splashed onto Ethan’s hand. Ethan immediately stood up, shielding her behind him: “Scarlett, what are you doing back? Who are you glaring at with that sour face?” “Chloe is already feeling down. Can you stop being so harsh and unforgiving?” I looked at my cherished wedding dress, being trampled under her feet. My voice was cold, like ice: “Take it off.” “Are you insane?!” Ethan roared, lunging forward and grabbing my wrist. “It’s just a dress!” “When we were at our lowest during the startup, I lived with you in a leaky basement and ate moldy bread.” “Now you’re upset about lending a wedding dress to Chloe? Why are you suddenly so materialistic?” Materialistic, huh? What a joke.

I forcefully yanked my hand away from him, stepping closer: “Ethan, you ate moldy bread because you spent all our remaining money paying off your mom’s gambling debts!” “The night the basement flooded, I had a 102-degree fever, scooping water out with a bucket, while you were at the internet cafe playing games, escaping reality!” “How dare you use my suffering to manipulate me into backing down!” I suddenly reached out, grabbing the neckline of the wedding dress Chloe was wearing. “Ah!” Chloe shrieked. “Scarlett! Don’t you dare touch her!” A flicker of panic crossed Ethan’s eyes. He didn’t hesitate, raising his hand and shoving my shoulder hard. He put all his strength into that push. I was caught off guard, tumbling backward. I crashed heavily into the glass display cabinet behind me. Glass shards instantly cut my arm and the side of my face. Blood dripped onto the expensive carpet. But what pierced me to the core was the cheap clay figurine inside the cabinet. It was a token of his promise to love me forever, molded by Ethan himself during our first year of startup. Now, it lay mixed with shattered glass. Smashed to pieces, beyond repair. The air was dead silent. Ethan looked at the blood on my face, his fingers freezing for a moment. But the next second, Chloe tugged on his sleeve, letting out a soft sob. He looked down at me, sprawled in a pool of blood, his voice full of impatience: “Scarlett, you brought this on yourself.” “You’re not just selfish; now you’re acting like a shrew.” “You’d better stay in this house and think about what you’ve done. Don’t come looking for me until you’ve learned to be more understanding.” With that, he didn’t even glance at me. He took off his suit jacket, draped it over Chloe, and escorted her out of the villa without looking back. I sat amidst the wreckage, not crying. The wound on my face hurt, but that rotten piece of my heart that had festered for three years. It was finally completely excised at that moment. I grabbed a tissue from the coffee table to cover my bleeding face. With my other uninjured hand, I pulled out my phone and dialed my lawyer. “Mr. Harrison.” The voice on the other end was respectful. I looked at the shattered clay on the floor, my voice calm: “Initiate the asset divestment procedure in three days.” “All supplementary credit cards under Ethan’s name will be frozen in three days.” The lawyer on the other end gasped: “Ms. Scarlett, have you finally decided?” I pulled at the corner of my mouth, blood seeping through the tissue. “Yes.” I coldly watched Ethan’s departing taillights outside the floor-to-ceiling window.

I sat amidst the wreckage, watching Ethan’s taillights disappear into the night. The wound on my face was still bleeding, dripping onto the smashed clay figurine. He had molded it bit by bit during the year I suffered from severe depression. He said, “Scarlett, even if it breaks, I can put you back together.” But now, he was the one who had shattered me. I didn’t call an ambulance. I just grabbed a random bandage and pressed it to my face. Ignoring the searing pain, I painstakingly picked up the fragments of the figurine. Tiny shards of glass dug into my fingertips; the pain was intense, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my chest. At three in the morning, Ethan’s call came in. I thought he’d at least ask about my injuries. But the moment I answered, his irritated voice barraged me: “Have you made enough of a scene? Chloe’s heart condition flared up because your crazy act scared her tonight!” “You need to move out first thing tomorrow morning and clear out the master bedroom. I’m bringing her back to rest.” I clutched my phone tightly, my knuckles white: “Ethan, that’s our home.” “It’s just a place to live!” “I was there for you during your darkest days, when you wanted to die. Now you’re unwilling to even give up a room?” “Scarlett, what is your heart made of? How can you be so cold-blooded!” “Beep—beep—” The call was mercilessly cut off. The next morning, I was still running a low fever when the front door was unlocked. Ethan walked in brazenly with Chloe. Chloe wasn’t just wearing my haute couture wedding dress. She even had the pearl necklace my grandmother left me around her neck. “What are you still doing standing here?” Ethan frowned, directing the movers to unceremoniously throw my suitcases out the door. “Chloe can’t stand the smell of your perfumes. I had everything of yours thrown out.” I abruptly stood up, my gaze fixed on the necklace around Chloe’s neck: “Take that off your neck.” That was the last memento my grandmother left me. Chloe instinctively covered her neck, tears instantly flowing: “Ethan, this was your calming gift to me last night, I…” “Scarlett! Don’t push your luck!” Ethan shielded her, his eyes filled with disgust. “It’s just a cheap necklace. I’ve been through so much with you, what’s wrong with giving Chloe a necklace to make her happy?” “That’s my grandmother’s heirloom!” I screamed, my eyes burning red. I rushed forward a few steps and grabbed Chloe’s collar. “Slap!” I didn’t hesitate, raising my hand and delivering a brutal slap across Chloe’s face! The crisp sound of the slap echoed through the living room. Chloe shrieked, covering her face and falling to the floor. That slap made my palm tingle. If talking reason failed, I would use the most direct method. But my hand hadn’t even dropped when Ethan’s eyes instantly turned red. He lunged forward, returning an even harder slap that snapped across my face! “Scarlett, how dare you hit her?!” I was already feverish, and the blow made me lose my balance, sending me crashing against the doorframe. The wound that had just clotted last night tore open again, blood trickling down my chin onto my sweater. I froze. In all our time together. This was the first time he had laid a hand on me. It felt like a knife had been plunged into my heart. I tasted the strong metallic tang of blood in my mouth, and my ears rang. Ethan looked at the blood on my face, his fingers stiff for a moment. He let go, as if he’d touched something foul, and disgustedly wiped his hands. Then he turned, cradling Chloe in his arms with a pained expression. “Get out. Don’t show your face to Chloe again until you learn how to act like a decent human being.” “Bang!” The security door slammed shut in front of me. Cold rain lashed mercilessly against my thin clothes. I was soaked, blood from my face mixing with rainwater as it streamed down. I coldly stared at the closed door, then pulled out my phone. I dialed the number of a secondhand salvage company. “Hello, Villa 3, smash and haul away all the valuable furniture, appliances, and all that junk high-end men’s clothing in the walk-in closet.” “Yes, anything I paid for, smash it all and take it. Don’t leave a single piece!” I hung up, then turned and walked into the rain.

Less than twenty minutes later, four trucks pulled up to the villa. Dozens of workers, armed with sledgehammers and crowbars, jumped out. The foreman ran up to me, pausing at the sight of my blood-streaked face: “Boss, is this the place?” I pointed at the door, my voice cold and flat: “Break it open.” “All the valuable furniture and appliances inside, and the men’s high-end clothing in the walk-in closet—anything I paid for, smash it all and drag it out, not a single piece left!” “Got it!” With a massive crash, the door was broken open by a sledgehammer. Chloe’s scream instantly echoed from inside the villa. I walked back into the house step by step, cold rainwater dripping from my clothes, forming puddles on the floor. In the living room, the workers had already started. A million-dollar imported leather sofa was ripped to shreds by sharp blades. The crystal chandelier crashed to the floor, sending shattered glass everywhere. Ethan clutched Chloe tightly, his eyes bloodshot as he roared at me: “Scarlett! Are you insane?! How dare you trespass!” “Trespass?” I looked at him coldly. “Ethan, I paid the down payment for this villa, and I chose every piece of furniture here.” “Things I bought with my own money, I’m disgusted by them, so I’m smashing them for the noise. Are you going to call the police on me?” Several workers had already rushed into the walk-in closet. They threw all of Ethan’s custom suits and rare sneakers into the muddy water and stomped on them. Ethan watched his meticulously maintained image being mercilessly trampled, trembling with rage. He lunged at me: “Scarlett, you’re just flaunting your dirty money!” “When we were at our lowest during the startup, I lived with you in a leaky basement and ate moldy bread!” “Are you going to be so ruthless over these material possessions?!” There it was again. That line, his golden ticket, the one that moved him to tears. “Ethan, how dare you even mention the basement?” Ethan flinched, stepping back. His face instantly went pale, his lips trembling, unable to utter a word. I ignored him, walking straight to Chloe, who was paralyzed with fear on the floor. Chloe instinctively recoiled. Her hands clamped tightly over the pearl necklace on her neck: “Scarlett… please don’t hit me… I’ll take it off, I’ll take off the wedding dress right away…” “Too late. Anything you’ve worn, I find disgusting.” I bent down, my eyes icy. “Give me back the necklace.” Chloe was crying uncontrollably, looking to Ethan for help. Ethan tried to step forward, but two workers with crowbars subtly blocked his way. “You won’t give it to me?” I sneered, suddenly reaching out and grabbing the pearl necklace, pulling hard! The fragile string snapped instantly. The pearls scattered across the floor like my seven years of devotion, wasted on a dog. This was the last memento my grandmother left me. Now, it was completely destroyed. My heart felt like it was being torn apart by bare hands. The pain made my breathing tremble. But I swallowed it, not letting a single tear fall. “Scarlett, you’re going too far!” Ethan looked at the utter chaos, finally losing his temper. “Smash it all.” I turned around, walking step by step into the curtain of rain. “Smash everything. Let’s make some noise for Mr. Ethan and Ms. Chloe.” Behind me, Chloe’s hysterical cries erupted. “Scarlett! Scarlett, wait!”

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My husband’s sister burst into the company during our annual gala and slapped me hard across the face, right in front of hundreds of employees. She pointed a finger at my nose and yelled, “Scarlett, you’re barely good enough to polish my brother’s shoes! Stop putting on a show as the VP here!” Arthur, my father-in-law and the Chairman, sat beside me, his face thunderous. He was just about to reprimand me for failing to keep the family in line. But I calmly smoothed my hair and looked at him. “Dad, haven’t you ever had your doubts all these years? Her behavior, acting like a crazy woman—does that really resemble anyone in our family?” “I suggest you get a DNA test. Wouldn’t want you raising someone else’s daughter for half a lifetime.” “After all, a true heiress from a prominent family wouldn’t throw a public scene like that.” Seeing her face instantly drain of color, I knew it. Things were about to change around here. Arthur froze, his gaze turning instantly chilling. Three days later, the test results came back. Brittany was thrown out the front door like garbage by the security team. 0

My cheek burned. A loud slap. Brittany stormed into our company’s annual gala. Right in front of hundreds of employees. She pointed a finger at my nose. “Scarlett, you’re barely good enough to polish my brother’s shoes!” “Stop acting all high and mighty as VP here, putting on a show!” The room instantly fell silent. Hundreds of eyes stared at me. Some with pity, some with malicious glee, some just confused. Brittany. My husband Ethan’s sister. The Sterling family’s pampered princess. Beside me sat Arthur Sterling, my father-in-law and the Chairman. His face was already livid. His hand gripped the armrest, veins pulsing on his knuckles. His eyes cut through me like knives. Reproach. Rage. He thought I had poor family upbringing, letting Brittany embarrass the Sterling name in public. He was about to explode. To reprimand me. But I didn’t look at Brittany. I reached up and slowly smoothed my hair, which she had messed up. My movements were calm. Then, I turned and looked at Arthur, who was seated at the head table. I called out to him. “Dad.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear. Everyone in the room could hear me. Arthur’s fury was cut short. He froze, looking at me. I continued. “All these years, haven’t you ever had your doubts?” His brows furrowed deeper. “Doubts about what?” I looked at Brittany, still making a scene on stage, hands on her hips, a triumphant look on her face, waiting for me to be scolded. A faint smile even touched my lips. “The way she is, always loud and rowdy, like a common street brawler.” “Which part of her resembles anyone from our Sterling family?” The moment I said that. Brittany’s triumphant expression froze. Arthur’s gaze also changed. No longer anger, but a deep, chilling scrutiny. He began to re-evaluate his own daughter. I kept twisting the knife into his heart. “I suggest you take her for a DNA test.” “Wouldn’t want you raising someone else’s daughter for half a lifetime, only to have her completely tarnish the Sterling name.” “After all, you always say our Sterling family has a long and storied legacy.” “A true heiress from a prominent family wouldn’t throw a public scene like that.” My words were like a bomb. Exploding in the dead silent room. Everyone gasped. Brittany’s face went “white as a sheet” in an instant. Completely bloodless. Her指着的hand started to tremble. “You… you’re talking nonsense!” “Scarlett, you evil witch! You’re trying to ruin me!” She was no longer arrogant, her voice filled with panic. I knew it. This family was about to be turned upside down today. Arthur, my father-in-law, was completely stunned. He stared at Brittany’s pale face. His gaze shifted from scrutiny to bone-chilling coldness. That look was like he was staring at a complete stranger. He didn’t look at me again. Nor did he acknowledge Brittany’s screams. He stood up, said nothing, and turned to leave. Two bodyguards immediately followed. The annual gala was interrupted just like that. An absurd farce. A secret about to be exposed. Brittany tried to lunge at me again. Ethan, my husband, held her back tightly. “Ethan! Let go of me! I’m going to tear that bitch’s mouth off!” Ethan is my husband, Arthur’s son. His face was also very grim at this moment. “Enough! Brittany! Haven’t you caused enough embarrassment!” He roared in a low voice. Brittany was still crying and making a scene. I ignored them. I walked to the microphone. Facing the hundreds of employees below the stage. I bowed. “My apologies, a private family matter occurred today and affected everyone’s mood.” “The gala ends here. Everyone will receive a double bonus this month.” “Thank you all.” With that, I turned off the microphone and stepped off the stage. Employees began to whisper among themselves. I didn’t listen. I walked directly backstage. My hands were trembling slightly. Not from fear. But from excitement. Ten years of enduring. I finally waited for this day. 0

I was driving. Ethan sat in the passenger seat. Brittany was in the back seat. She had stopped crying but was still sobbing. Muttering curses at me intermittently. “Witch…” “Bad luck…” “Just you wait, when Dad gets back, he’ll definitely take care of you…” I ignored her. Ethan did too. The atmosphere in the car was so oppressive it felt like it could explode. Ethan finally couldn’t take it anymore. He turned his head and looked at me. “Scarlett, you were… too impulsive today.” His tone carried a hint of blame. “Saying something like that at the gala, where does that leave Dad’s reputation?” I gripped the steering wheel, looking at the road ahead. “Reputation?” I scoffed. “When she slapped me in front of hundreds of people, why didn’t you say anything about reputation?” “When she pointed a finger at my nose and told me I was only fit to polish her shoes, why didn’t you say anything about reputation?” “Ethan, that’s your dad’s reputation, not yours.” “You seem to have missed the point.” Ethan was speechless. He opened his mouth but then closed it. Brittany in the back seat started screaming again. “Ethan! Listen to what she’s saying!” “She doesn’t care about us Sterlings at all!” “She just wants to sow discord in our family!” I slammed on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt at the side of the road. The sudden inertia threw Brittany forward, and her head hit the back of the front seat. “Ah!” she cried out in pain. I unbuckled my seatbelt, turned around, and looked at her coldly. “Brittany, try saying one more word.” My eyes were ice-cold. Cold as frost. Brittany shivered under my gaze. She缩了缩necked her neck, not daring to make another sound. I stared at her. Speaking word by word. “You’d better start praying now that you are Dad’s biological daughter.” “If not…” I paused. “I will make your life a living hell.” Brittany’s lips began to tremble. She looked at me, her eyes filled with terror. Ethan also stared at me in shock. He probably had never seen me like this. In his eyes, I had always been a docile, tolerant wife. A daughter-in-law who would endlessly compromise for family harmony. He didn’t know. Even a mouse will bite when cornered. Besides, I was never a mouse. I was a wolf. A wolf disguised in the Sterling family for ten years. I restarted the car. The rest of the drive was silent. The car pulled into the Sterling family mansion. The mansion was brightly lit. In the living room, Arthur, my father-in-law, sat on the mahogany sofa at the head of the room. His fingers were steepled, his gaze distant and unreadable. Seeing us enter, he didn’t even lift an eyelid. Brittany rushed in and immediately ran to him. “Dad! You have to stand up for me!” She knelt by Arthur’s leg, crying piteously. “Scarlett is crazy! She’s talking nonsense outside, saying I’m not your biological daughter!” “She’s ruining my reputation, she’s ruining our Sterling family’s reputation!” Arthur finally stopped his stillness. He opened his eyes, his gaze sharp as a hawk’s. He didn’t look at Brittany. Instead, he looked at me. “Scarlett.” He spoke, his voice hoarse and low. “What you said at the company today, are you sure?” I walked to stand opposite him. Meeting his gaze without humility or arrogance. “Dad, I merely offered a reasonable suggestion.” “One that could thoroughly resolve the ongoing disputes in our family.” Arthur scoffed. “Gambling with the reputation of our Sterling family?” “You have quite the nerve.” I smiled. “Dad, aren’t you curious?” “You’ve been a formidable figure your whole life, decisive and sharp.” “Ethan, while not possessing your drive, is still steady and reliable.” “Why is Brittany, of all people, so foolish, so venomous, and completely lacking in self-awareness?” “Doesn’t that seem like a genetic anomaly?” “You!” Arthur slammed his hand on the armrest and stood up abruptly. A powerful aura pressed down on me. If it were before, my knees might have buckled. But today, I stood perfectly straight. Brittany was still crying. “Dad! Don’t believe her! She’s jealous of me! She’s jealous that you love me!” Arthur stared intently at me. After a long time. The anger in his eyes slowly receded. Replaced by a bottomless well of doubt. My words were like a thorn. Piercing deeply into his heart. He wasn’t foolish. On the contrary, he had been sharp his entire life. Some things, he hadn’t thought of, not because he couldn’t, but because he didn’t want to. Today, I ripped off the band-aid. He had no choice but to think. “Alright.” He slowly sat down, picking up his steepled hands again. “I’ll give you this chance.” “And myself an answer.” He picked up his phone and dialed a number. “Mr. Davis, contact Dr. Lee at St. Jude’s Hospital.” “Arrange for an urgent DNA test.” “I want the results first thing tomorrow morning.” He hung up the phone. In the living room, there was a deathly silence. Brittany’s crying also stopped. She collapsed on the floor, her face ashen. 0

Mr. Davis was very efficient. Half an hour later, the forensic team from St. Jude’s Hospital arrived. Two doctors in white coats, carrying professional sampling kits. The atmosphere in the living room was colder than freezing point. Arthur, my father-in-law, sat on the sofa, silent. Ethan and I stood to one side. Brittany lay slumped on the floor, as if all her strength had been drained. The doctors were professional, with no unnecessary words. “Mr. Sterling, we need hair follicle or blood samples from you and… Ms. Brittany.” Arthur extended his hand. “Blood.” His voice was devoid of warmth. The doctor took out the blood collection needle. Brittany suddenly screamed like she was insane. “No! I won’t do it!” She scrambled up from the floor, stumbling as she ran towards the door. “I don’t want a DNA test! I’m my dad’s daughter! I am!” Her reaction was a dead giveaway. Arthur’s face darkened even further. Two bodyguards immediately stepped forward, one on each side, restraining Brittany. She struggled desperately like a captured bird. “Let go of me! Let me go!” “Dad! Save me! I’m your daughter!” Arthur closed his eyes. He seemed unable to bear watching. Or perhaps, the answer in his heart was becoming increasingly clear. He waved his hand. The bodyguards understood, forcibly holding Brittany down. The doctor stepped forward and quickly took a blood sample from her finger. Then it was Arthur. Throughout the entire process, he didn’t open his eyes. The samples were collected. The doctors sealed the samples and placed them in a secured case. “Mr. Sterling, the results will be ready by ten tomorrow morning at the earliest.” “We will deliver the report directly to you.” Arthur nodded. “Thank you for your trouble.” The doctors and bodyguards left, taking the struggling Brittany with them. Brittany was taken to a guest room and temporarily locked in. In the living room, only Ethan, my father-in-law, and I remained. A long silence. Arthur finally opened his eyes. He looked at me, his gaze complex. There was anger, scrutiny, and something else I couldn’t decipher. “Scarlett.” “Yes, Dad.” “If the results come back and Brittany is my daughter.” He spoke slowly, word by word. “What do you intend to do?” It was a test. And a threat. If I was wrong, I would be utterly ruined. Swept out of the Sterling family, my reputation destroyed. Ethan looked at me nervously, his palms sweating. He wanted to speak for me, but I stopped him with a look. I met my father-in-law’s gaze and smiled. Very calmly. “Dad, if she is.” “Then I will willingly leave the Sterling family, walking away penniless.” “And, I will apologize on my knees to Brittany in front of all the employees.” “To compensate for the damage I caused to the Sterling family’s reputation tonight.” My answer was flawless. It also cut off all my retreat routes. All or nothing. Arthur stared at me for a long time. He seemed to want to find a trace of guilt or panic on my face. But he failed. I was too composed. Too composed for someone who was gambling everything. More like a winner who already knew the outcome. He finally looked away. “Alright.” “I’ll remember your words.” He stood up, looking somewhat weary. “Everyone go back and rest.” With that, he turned and went upstairs. His back looked a bit desolate. In the living room, only Ethan and I remained. Ethan quickly walked over and took my hand. “Scarlett, are you crazy?” His voice was very low, but filled with anxiety. “How could you make such a bet with Dad?” “What if… what if Brittany really is his biological daughter?” “Then you’ll be completely ruined, won’t you?” I looked at him. My husband. We had been married for ten years. He had always been like this: gentle, kind, but lacking drive. Accustomed to living in the shadow of his father and sister. I squeezed his hand back. His hand was cold and still trembling. “Ethan.” I looked into his eyes. “Do you trust me?” He froze. “I…” “You just need to answer, yes or no.” He looked at my firm gaze and was silent for a long time. Finally, as if having made a decision, he nodded forcefully. “I trust you.” “I trust you, Scarlett.” I smiled. “That’s enough.” “Let’s go to bed.” “Tomorrow, everything will be clear.” I led him back to our room. That night, Ethan tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep. But I slept soundly. Ten years of planning. Ten years of enduring. It was finally time to reap the rewards. How could I not be excited? Tomorrow would be a good day. 0

I woke up the next morning. The sky was bright. But the Sterling mansion was quieter than deep night. When I went downstairs, I saw the butler directing the maids. Carefully wiping the furniture. Even walking on tiptoes, afraid to make a sound. The air was thick with tension. In the dining room, at the long dining table. Ethan was already sitting there. His breakfast untouched. He had heavy dark circles under his eyes, clearly having not slept all night. Seeing me, he managed a smile that was worse than a grimace. “Morning.” “Morning.” I pulled out a chair and sat down. I poured myself a glass of milk and picked up a slice of toast. Eating quietly. Ethan looked at me, wanting to speak but hesitating. He finally couldn’t hold it in. Leaning forward, he whispered in a voice only we two could hear. “Scarlett, how much… how much certainty do you have?” I bit into the toast, chewing slowly. Then swallowed. Only then did I look up at him. “One hundred percent.” My tone was calm. So calm it seemed I wasn’t talking about a major event that could overturn an entire family. Ethan froze. He was shaken by my confidence. “How… how could you…” I didn’t answer him. I just continued eating my breakfast. Some things, it wasn’t time to tell him yet. A sharp shouting sound came from upstairs. It was Brittany. She was locked in her room, but her energy was surprisingly high. “Let me out!” “You bunch of dog servants! Who gave you the guts to lock me up!” “Scarlett! You bitch! You just wait!” The maids trembled in fear. A flicker of unbearable pity crossed Ethan’s face. After all, that was the “sister” he had called for over twenty years. I put down my toast. Wiped my mouth with a napkin. “I’m done eating.” “I’m going to the company.” I stood up. Ethan also stood up. “Still going to the company today?” He was surprised. “The family’s such a mess…” I turned to look at him. “Even if the sky falls, the company must operate normally.” “Sterling Enterprises isn’t our family’s playground.” “I’m the VP, drawing a salary, and I’m responsible for thousands of employees.” “I hope you, the future heir, understand that.” With that, I turned and left. Leaving Ethan alone, frozen in place. I drove to the company. Along the way, my mood was calm. Even joyous, one might say. Ten years ago, I married Ethan. Everyone said it was a Cinderella story, a commoner marrying into a top-tier wealthy family. No one knew. The very first day I moved into the Sterling mansion. Brittany gave me a show of force. She called me into her walk-in closet. Pointing at a pile of designer shoes on the floor. “Scarlett, from now on, my shoes are yours to clean.” “Remember, use your hands, kneel on the floor to clean them.” “This is your first lesson as a Sterling daughter-in-law.” Back then, I chose to endure. Because I loved Ethan. And because I needed the Sterling family’s resources to complete my plan. This endurance lasted ten years. For ten years, Brittany’s provocations and humiliations never stopped. I went from a fiercely independent woman with an edge. To a docile and proper socialite wife in the eyes of outsiders. Everyone thought I had been tamed. Including Brittany, including my father-in-law, Arthur. They didn’t know. A wolf will never be tamed into a dog. It will only sharpen its claws in the shadows. Waiting for a fatal strike. Now, the opportunity had arrived. At the company. Sure enough, rumors were flying. What happened at the gala last night had spread everywhere. Everyone looked at me with complex emotions. I ignored them. Walked directly into my office. Called a meeting with all department directors. Assigned new projects for the quarter. I handled company affairs with the utmost efficiency and professionalism. As if everything from last night was just a dream. My composure, instead, made those who wanted to watch the drama feel uneasy. They began to suspect that things might not be as simple as they imagined. In the afternoon. I was reviewing financial reports. Ethan’s phone call came in. His voice was very tired. “Scarlett, where are you?” “Company.” “Can you… can you come back?” “What’s wrong?” “Brittany… she’s on a hunger strike.” “She’s locked herself in her room, not eating or drinking, saying she’ll die to spite us.” I listened, silent for a few seconds. Then, I smiled. “Ethan, she’s not a three-year-old anymore.” “Do you think her usual dramatic antics of crying, making a scene, and threatening suicide will work on Dad?” “But…” “No buts.” I cut him off. “If she wants to die, let her.” “Anyway, the test results will be out tomorrow.” “If she’s biological, Dad will naturally find a way to save her.” “If she’s not…” I paused, my voice chilling. “Then what does her life or death have to do with our Sterling family?” On the other end of the phone, Ethan gasped. He was probably scared by the coldness in my words. “Scarlett… how did you become like this…” “I haven’t changed.” I said. “I’m just not pretending anymore.” I hung up the phone. I looked out at the city through the window. The sun was slowly setting. Coating the city in a golden glow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, everything would be settled.

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After I got a second chance at life, I burned every photo I had with Sophia. I also shredded the love letters Olivia had written me for three years. Because in my previous life, caught between these two women, I had lived like a total joke. Sophia said she loved me, but after I gave up my chance to study abroad for her, she left the country with Noah. She left a note before she went: “He needs me more than you do.” I was a wreck for three months. Olivia brought me food every day, telling me, “I’ve waited for you for eight years.” After we got together, she came home on time every night and never socialized with any other men. I thought I had finally made the right bet. Until that winter, I got into a car accident. I was in a coma in the ICU for seven days, and she never once came to see me. Instead, I heard the nurses talking: “His wife comes every day, but she goes to the room next door to take care of a patient named Noah.” Later, I found out that Sophia took Noah abroad to help him pay off his gambling debts, and Olivia had paid for everything. Turns out, I was just an NPC in their three-person love story. This time, I sold the house in advance and took Grandpa to study abroad.

“Patient 12 is so pathetic. His wife comes every day but never steps foot in his room.” “Yeah, she always goes straight to the room next door to see that patient named Noah.” The nurses’ whispers drifted in from outside the door. After the car accident, I had multiple fractures and had been lying in the ICU for seven days. I was in a coma, but my mind was perfectly clear. I heard the nurses call Olivia over and over. But she never once came to see me. Turns out, she was with someone more important. What I thought was my salvation was just a scam. I tried with all my might to open my eyes, but all I could see was a flatline on the EKG monitor. When I opened my eyes again, the sunlight was blinding. I was sitting at my familiar desk. The calendar showed that I had three months before I gave up my study abroad spot for Sophia. This time, I answered the call from the school’s international exchange office: “Professor, I confirm I’ll participate in this year’s exchange program. Thank you for this opportunity.” On the other end, the professor’s voice sounded relieved: “Glad you decided. It would’ve been such a shame to give up such a great opportunity.” Yeah, it was a huge shame. Giving up my entire life for a woman was the stupidest thing I’d ever done. After hanging up, I contacted a real estate agent and listed the house my parents left me. My only requirement: full payment, as soon as possible. Right after that, Sophia called. Her voice was distant: “Ethan, Noah’s graduation project has hit a snag. You’re good at academics; can you help him?” Noah again. His issues always seemed to come between us. In my previous life, I pulled three all-nighters for that sentence, revising his design from rough draft to final product. The result? Only his name was on the award-winning work. Sophia’s explanation to me was: “Noah isn’t well, and he needs this award to boost his resume.” I actually believed her back then. I gripped my phone and softly said, “Sure, send me the details.” Sophia’s voice came through the phone: “Good boy.” Just one word, and she expected me to fall in line. I looked out the window, remembering my past self, and just felt how ridiculous it all was. Soon after, Olivia knocked on my door, carrying takeout from my favorite breakfast spot. She neatly arranged the containers on the table, her voice gentle: “Eat it while it’s warm. I know you’ve been worried about Sophia and Noah lately. Don’t overwork yourself.” She always appeared to care for me whenever Sophia hurt me. Then, she casually brought up: “Noah’s project is really important, Sophia can’t help it. He’s been weak since he was little, he can’t handle it alone.” See? They always had a thousand reasons. Noah being “unwell” somehow justified everything. I picked up a pastry, smiling at her: “I know, Olivia. I won’t make things difficult for Sophia.” Olivia smiled, relieved. They all thought I was still the same Ethan, ready to endlessly compromise for Sophia. The next day, I took my laptop to the library to prepare my study abroad application. While looking for literature in the reference section, I looked up and saw Sophia and Noah not far away. Noah was leaning into Sophia’s embrace, his face flushed and looking nothing like someone who was “unwell.” He was smiling, telling Sophia, “Sophia, I’m so glad I have you. I really don’t know what I’d do without you.” Sophia looked down at him, her voice filled with a tenderness I had never heard before: “Silly boy.” Sophia turned to buy water, and when she looked back, she saw me. Sophia’s expression froze for a moment, then she quickly frowned. My presence had clearly interrupted them. I didn’t rush over to confront her like I did in my previous life. I just crooked my mouth into a slight smile from a distance. Then, I turned around and continued searching for my book on the shelf. That gaze from behind made me uncomfortable. I didn’t care. Anyway, these days would be over soon.

I didn’t touch a single word of Noah’s graduation project. A couple of days later, Sophia found me in the library. She snatched the book from my hands and slammed it onto the table with a bang. Students around us all looked over. “Ethan, I told you to help Noah, and you’re just sitting here reading leisure books?” I looked up at her, and at Noah, who stood behind her with an innocent expression. “I’m just researching something,” I replied. “What research is more important than Noah’s graduation?” Sophia demanded, pulling Noah in front of her. “He hasn’t slept properly for days because of this project, and you? You don’t care at all.” Noah, ever so timely, tugged at her sleeve and softly said, “Sophia, don’t be like that. Ethan must have his own things to do. I’ll just figure something out myself.” His words only made Sophia think I was being more unreasonable. “Listen to that!” She pointed at Noah and snapped at me, “Noah is more sensible than you! Ethan, I’m telling you one last time, I want to see a complete proposal within a week.” I watched them play their little game and averted my gaze. I nodded: “Got it.” Sophia thought I had given in, her expression softening slightly as she pulled Noah and turned to leave. I absorbed all the strange looks from the surrounding students. It didn’t matter. This was the last time, anyway. Sophia finally lost her patience. Her voice on the phone was sharp: “Ethan, what exactly are you doing? It’s due in a week, and you haven’t done anything?” I turned on the faucet, the rushing water serving as background noise. “I’m so sorry, Grandpa hasn’t been feeling well lately. I’ve been at the hospital taking care of him, so I got delayed,” I lied. “Noah’s graduation project is very important to him. Put your family matters aside for now and finish his project.” Listen to that, how entitled. My Grandpa, in her eyes, was less important than Noah’s assignment. “But…” I feigned difficulty. “No ‘buts’,” Sophia cut me off directly. “Ethan, stop being petty. If Noah can’t graduate, I’m not done with you.” She hung up the phone with force. I turned off the faucet and looked at my reflection in the mirror, unable to understand how I could have been so desperately infatuated with such a woman in my previous life. Thankfully, this time, I had a chance to start over. The agent’s call came in at the perfect moment, informing me that the house had found a buyer who agreed to full payment, and we could sign the contract today. I replied with an “Okay.” To make the house-selling act seem more genuine, I needed to move some old furniture my parents had left behind. The items were heavy, and I couldn’t manage them alone. The first person I thought of was Olivia, who had always played the role of the reliable senior. I called her: “Olivia, are you free? I have some old furniture at my place I want to get rid of, and I was hoping you could help me out.” A few seconds of silence, then Olivia’s voice came through: “Ethan, what a coincidence, I’m tied up right now.” In the background, I clearly heard Noah’s delicate cough. “Noah has a bit of a fever, I need to stay here and take care of him,” Olivia explained. “You should try to figure something out yourself, or maybe find a moving company? I’ll transfer you some money later.” Noah, again. I chuckled softly: “No need, Olivia. You take good care of him. I can manage on my own.” I hung up the phone without a moment’s hesitation and immediately looked for a paid moving service online. Why beg people for things money could solve? After hanging up, I clutched my stomach and called Olivia again, my voice weak: “Olivia, my stomach hurts terribly. I’m at the downtown hospital right now.” Olivia immediately replied: “Don’t move, I’ll be right there!” I sat on a cold bench in the emergency room lobby, watching people come and go. Half an hour later, I saw Olivia. She ran quickly, looking hurried, but didn’t even glance my way. Olivia rushed past me and headed straight for the orthopedic clinic on the other side. I stood up and followed her. At the clinic door, Noah was sitting in a wheelchair, his ankle bandaged, crying. Olivia was半蹲 (half-kneeling) in front of him, gently soothing him: “There, there, don’t cry. Didn’t the doctor say it’s just a minor sprain? It’ll heal in a few days.” “But it hurts so much…” Noah whined, pouting. Olivia frowned, reaching out to touch his ankle, but hesitant to hurt him, her movements cautious. Her expression was more genuine than any act she put on at my bedside in my previous life. I stood behind them, watching. So, the rumors I heard in the ICU in my previous life had already begun. My appearance changed the atmosphere between the two. Olivia whirled around and saw me, freezing completely. “Ethan…what are you doing here?” Her eyes were panicked when she saw me. Noah also saw me. The tears in his eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a defiant look. “My stomach hurt, came to get some medicine,” I said, gesturing to myself. “Then…how are you?” Olivia stood up, looking flustered. “It’s nothing serious, just an old problem.” “Well, you should get back to what you were doing, Olivia. I’ll head home after I get my medicine.” I gave her no chance to explain and turned to leave. I knew that my not looking back would only make them more convinced that I was still the jealous and helpless Ethan.

The day I signed the house sale contract and received the full payment, the weather was beautiful. I transferred the money to a bank card, then went to school to complete the suspension and study abroad procedures. That weekend, a mutual friend organized a karaoke party and invited me. I knew Sophia and her crew would be there. To avoid tipping them off, I accepted. In the private room, everyone started playing Truth or Dare. After a few rounds, Noah suddenly rattled the dice in his hand and suggested with a laugh, “Let’s play King’s Game! The person who draws the King card can order any two people to do anything!” The suggestion was immediately met with enthusiasm from everyone, including Sophia and Olivia. Sure enough, in the first round, Noah became the King. He announced his order: “I command number 2 and number 5 to recreate the classic Titanic ‘King of the World’ pose at the ship’s bow!” After he spoke, everyone started checking their cards. I opened my palm, it was a 2. And Sophia, frowning, revealed her number 5 card. The room instantly erupted with whistles and cheers. “Ethan, this is your chance!” “Sophia, don’t just stand there, hug him!” I was pushed and shoved until I stood on the coffee table, my limbs unsure where to go. Sophia was pushed in front of me, her face clearly unwilling. Olivia was still laughing on the side, saying, “Sophia, hurry up, don’t keep everyone waiting. Ethan, spread your arms.” I stiffly spread my arms and closed my eyes, not daring to look at Sophia’s expression. I didn’t get the embrace. Instead, a strong push came from behind me. It was Noah. He was laughing as he hugged me from behind, shouting at Sophia, “Sophia, look, isn’t this the same?” The moment he hugged me, my foot slipped, and I fell backward, completely out of control. With a loud thud, I landed hard on the floor, the back of my head hitting the hard corner of the coffee table. The pain made my vision go black. The drinks on the table toppled from the impact, and cold liquid mixed with fruit splashed all over me. The whole world went silent for a second. Then, I heard Sophia’s undisguised scoff. Sophia didn’t even look at me; she just said to someone nearby, “What a buzzkill.” Olivia only frowned, “Ethan, how can you be so clumsy? It’s just a game.” Not a single person came to help me up. All their gazes were focused on Noah, who had pushed me and now had red-rimmed eyes. Sophia was the first to pull him close, comforting him softly: “It’s okay, it’s not your fault, he just couldn’t stand still.” The sharp pain in the back of my head continued. I lay on the cold, wet floor, soaked and utterly pathetic. I silently got up and walked out of that noisy private room. At that moment, I was only grateful that I had already sold my house and completed my study abroad procedures. Only three days remained until my departure. The third day was my birthday. Perhaps because of the drama that night at the karaoke, Olivia’s text came: “Happy Birthday, Ethan. 7 PM tonight, The Summit Bistro. I booked the best table for you. See you there.” Not long after, Sophia also sent a text: “Happy Birthday. Noah didn’t mean it last time, don’t take it to heart. We’ll celebrate your birthday together tonight.” I looked at these two messages, feeling nothing. Consider it our final goodbye. I replied “Okay” to both of them. In the evening, I took a taxi to the restaurant. It was still the same window seat, with a view of most of the city’s night skyline. This scene was identical to my previous life. In my previous life, on this very day, in this very place, I was wearing the suit she gave me. They were called away by Noah’s phone call before they even had a chance to order. I waited from seven o’clock until the restaurant was about to close, but they never returned. Calls went unanswered, texts unread. The sympathetic glances from other diners, the hesitant inquiries from the waiters, made me incredibly uncomfortable. Until I saw a photo in a friend’s Ins story. In the photo, he was dressed in a tuxedo, holding a cake and smiling. Sophia and Olivia stood on either side of him, looking at him with doting expressions. The caption read: “Grabbed two knights last minute to eat cake. It’s not a birthday, but who says you can only eat cake on your birthday!” Turns out, my birthday was far less important than his impromptu celebration.

“Ethan? What are you thinking about?” Olivia’s voice pulled me back from my memories. Olivia and Sophia had already arrived and were sitting across from me. The dishes were served quickly. No one spoke, and the atmosphere was a bit tense. Olivia raised her glass first: “Ethan, I was wrong that day. I’ll drink to that. Happy Birthday.” Sophia, for once, didn’t have a stern face, though her eyes were still complex. Just then, Olivia’s phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID, immediately answered, and her voice changed: “What? How could he suddenly faint? Which hospital?” She hung up, her face apologetic as she looked at me: “Ethan, I’m so sorry, Noah…he fainted from acute low blood sugar. He’s at the hospital right now, I have to go check on him.” Before I could say anything, Sophia had already stood up, coat in hand, and said to Olivia, “Let’s go together. One person might not be enough.” Just like in my previous life, they abandoned me again for Noah. Olivia promised me: “Ethan, you eat first. We’ll settle him in and be right back, quickly!” They left in a hurry, the private room door closing, cutting off the outside world. The world instantly became quiet. I looked at the table full of food and didn’t wait another second. I picked up my jacket and called a waiter. “Hi, check, please.” Walking out of the restaurant, the evening breeze blew on my face, cold, yet I felt clearer than ever before. I took out my phone and blocked and deleted Sophia’s and Olivia’s contact information. This time, I wouldn’t wait anymore. I hailed a taxi and went straight home. Pushing open the door, the house was empty. Aside from Grandpa’s and my suitcases, there were no traces of a life lived here. I took off the soiled suit, and without a second thought, threw it into the trash. Along with that suit, the last vestiges of my feelings for Sophia were also discarded. I walked into Grandpa’s room. He was already asleep, his breathing steady. I tucked him in and kissed his forehead. Grandpa, this time, I will take you away from this place that caused you so much sadness. I barely slept the rest of the night. I checked our documents and luggage again and again, making sure everything was perfect. As dawn broke, I woke Grandpa. “Grandpa, how about we go to a very distant, fun place?” Even though Grandpa’s memory was a bit hazy, he loved me the most. He looked at me, smiling and nodding: “Okay, Ethan. Wherever Ethan goes, Grandpa goes.” The morning light streamed through the airport’s floor-to-ceiling windows, warm and inviting. I held Grandpa’s hand, walking step by step towards the boarding gate. Goodbye, Sophia. Goodbye, Olivia. And Noah. May your love last forever.

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On the first day of my senior year of high school, I found my student ID card had no money on it. Meanwhile, my billionaire parents had already jetted off to Switzerland for a vacation with my cousin. I carefully called them to ask: “Mom, didn’t we agree that I’d get my living expenses if I worked at our family’s factory over the summer?” She sneered at me, “You ungrateful wretch, do you even have the nerve to ask for money? You made money and didn’t even think to buy us a gift. If I don’t teach you a lesson this time, you’ll be absolutely useless!” But Mom, the wages you paid me were far below market rate, just enough for me to eat. That evening, my cousin posted pictures on Ins of her fancy seafood dinner with my parents, while I could only scavenge leftovers in the cafeteria to fill my stomach. I was just soaking a leftover piece of stale bread in hot water when I saw Chloe’s post on Ins of her lavish dinner with my parents. A table covered with all sorts of expensive seafood. My dad, David, dotingly placed a rich lobster dish onto Chloe’s plate. My mom, Sarah, clinked glasses with Chloe affectionately. The wine they were drinking, one glass cost more than my entire year’s living expenses. Chloe smiled brightly, captioning the photo: “Aw, expressing my love to the best Sarah and David in the world! Because of your love, my diet plan has failed again.” It looked like they were the real family. I greedily stared at the feast, but all I had to eat was the mush made from cold, stale bread soaked in hot water, accompanied by the salty taste of my tears. Having been hungry for too long, the food caused a sharp pain in my stomach the moment it entered. I couldn’t stand, so I quickly squatted down, knocking over the bowl of bread mush I had just prepared. The cafeteria was about to close, and all the leftovers on the tables had been cleared. Desperate, I hastily scooped the spilled mush from the table back into my bowl, even licking the residue from my hands. “Mia, why are you eating that?” My roommate Lily’s astonished voice rang in my ears, and my face instantly flushed red. It wasn’t surprising she was shocked; after all, everyone knew I was the daughter of the wealthiest family in town. My parents were always known for their generosity, and the school even had a poverty alleviation fund donated by them. But who would have thought their own daughter was starving, eating other people’s leftovers? They said they had endured great hardships when starting their business, and therefore, I too needed to experience enough setbacks to be worthy of becoming their perfect heir. To that end, they constantly belittled and suppressed me, their only biological daughter. Yet, they were almost always obliging to my cousin, just to maintain their image among relatives. This summer, they proposed that I could only earn my living expenses for senior year by working at our own factory. I dared not object. After all, to make me appreciate the difficulty of earning money, since I was seven, every penny I spent had to be earned through labor. Knowing how strict my parents were, despite earning half the wages of a regular worker, I worked diligently. I didn’t even dare to rest when I had a fever, fearing they would accuse me of being “spoiled” and use it as an excuse to dock my pay. Finally, the day before school started, Mom nodded at my daily work hours, which exceeded ten, and promised to deposit the money onto my student ID card before school. I hadn’t even had time to sigh in relief when Chloe suddenly showed up with a small charm she’d gotten from a drink promotion. “Sarah, David, this is a gift I specifically brought back for you from my vacation.” With that, she hung the small charm on my mom’s designer bag. My mom smiled with satisfaction, pulling a wad of cash directly from her bag and pressing it into Chloe’s hand. “It’s rare for Chloe to think of us while away. Sarah doesn’t have a gift for you right now, so take this money.” Chloe’s face lit up with joy. She glanced at me and spoke. “I heard Mia earned money working at our factory this summer. Did she think of buying Sarah and David any gifts?” I smiled awkwardly. That money was barely enough for me to eat the cheapest cafeteria food. The only pitiful bit left I planned to buy some new underwear because my old ones were falling apart. How could I have any money for gifts? Seeing my silence, Chloe reproached me. “Mia, I’m not trying to criticize you, but you’re so grown up now. Sarah and David raised you with such difficulty; you can’t be so selfish. You should always think about giving back to your parents.” I could only force another awkward smile, not noticing Mom’s expression had already changed. That evening, Mom sternly made me write down every single expense. Though I didn’t understand, I dared not resist, and tremblingly wrote down my spending plan on paper. Mom read out each item, her face growing uglier. When she reached the item for “underwear,” her anger flared. She ripped the paper to shreds. Before I could react, a sharp slap landed squarely on my face. “You ungrateful wretch! Your dad and I raised you for nothing. You don’t care about us at all, you’re even worse than Chloe, our niece!” “You get money and don’t think about giving back to your parents, but you’re thinking about buying underwear? Disgusting! You’re shameless. Is this how David and I raised you? I think you’re looking for a boyfriend!” She even started wiping away tears, as if she had suffered a great injustice. Years of resentment pressed in my chest, and I couldn’t help but murmur a quiet complaint. “But the living expenses you gave me were only enough for food, there was nothing left. And I needed new underwear because my old ones were worn out.” Mom, hearing my rebuttal, began to tremble with even greater fury. She hysterically screamed for my dad. “David! David! I can’t handle her anymore, your daughter is rebelling!” The door opened, and Dad stood in the doorway.

My dad sat on the sofa and gently asked, “Mia, do you think we gave you too little money?” He adopted the pose of a concerned father. But I shivered, too terrified to speak. Because I knew my dad’s methods were a hundred times scarier than my mom’s! “Speak up, you good-for-nothing!” He suddenly slammed the table, his voice abruptly rising. I steeled myself and roared out all the bitterness in my heart. “Yes! You gave me too little money, less than half of what the poorest student in my class gets! I can only afford the cheapest food.” My voice grew quieter, “I can’t even eat enough.” My voice trailed off, because I saw my dad suddenly sneer. The next second, I was kicked in the abdomen, the intense pain making me fall to my knees. Immediately after, an extremely brutal slap landed on my face. “That slap is to teach you manners! Our Miller family has always valued respect for elders, yet you made your mother cry and yelled at me. Is that any way to show respect?” Before I could react, another solid slap landed on my face. “That slap is to teach you gratitude! Do you know how much hardship your mother and I endured to build this family fortune? We worked tirelessly to raise you, ensuring you never worried about food or clothes since childhood. What right do you have to complain about it being too little?” Another violent slap followed. “This slap is to teach you shame! You get money and don’t think about giving back to your parents, but you’re thinking about buying underwear. What kind of thoughts are you harboring, a young girl like you? Have you no shame?” By now, my right cheek was severely swollen, and blood seeped from the corner of my mouth. But they only left me with a single command. “You will kneel here and reflect.” And so, I knelt on the cold living room floor all night. I dared not resist again, hoping they would calm down and give me the money as promised, seeing that I was obedient. But it wasn’t until they boarded their flight to Switzerland that I discovered my card was completely empty! “I can’t even afford to eat anymore.” Tears streamed down my face, my heart filled with despair. After hearing my story, Lily’s eyes also welled up. She pulled out her own meal card and slipped it into my hand, gently comforting me. “Mia, you should still call your parents tomorrow and beg them. You’re their only child, no matter what, they’ll surely feel pain seeing you suffer.” I held Lily’s meal card in my hands, this kindness from an outsider making my heart ache even more. Yet, a tentative hope began to rise within me. Would they really feel pain?

The next day, filled with unease, I dialed their number. Before I could even utter the words “I’m hungry,” cheerful laughter reached my ears. It was Chloe and Mom shopping. Chloe whined, “Sarah, do I really look good in this dress? It’s almost fifteen thousand dollars. Won’t it be too much of an expense for you?” Mom laughed in response, “If you like it, buy it. Don’t worry about the money.” Then, turning her attention to me, Mom’s voice sharpened as she asked why I was calling, a stark contrast to the soft tone she used with Chloe. I cautiously brought up the subject of living expenses. Worried they were still angry, I spoke in the most humble tone possible, apologizing profusely and promising to buy them gifts the moment I received the money. To my surprise, I was met with another furious torrent of insults from Mom. A barrage of profanities assailed my ears. Just as I was nearing my breaking point, Dad’s steady voice finally came through. “Alright, since you know you were wrong, we’ll give you the living expenses.” Hope surged anew in my desperate heart. I cried tears of joy, immensely grateful for this hard-won concession. But when I swiped my card and saw the balance, my heart sank instantly. It was only half of what they had promised! I frantically called again to ask. Dad, however, sneered, “We pampered you too much before, which made you lose all concept of money. So, your mom and I decided to give you another test: you’ll earn the other half of your living expenses yourself this senior year.” “Only by understanding the difficulty of earning money are you worthy of being our child!” With that, he abruptly hung up the phone. My heart turned to ice. With university applications approaching, I didn’t even have enough time for studying. How could I earn money?

I cried all the way back to the dorm. My roommates had already heard about my situation and gathered around, concerned, asking what was wrong. I choked out, “I might have to take a leave of absence for a while.” To go out and earn enough for living expenses. The dorm room instantly erupted. “Mia, your grades are so good! This is a crucial time for aiming for elite universities, you absolutely can’t drop out!” “That’s right, Mia. I’m trying to lose weight right now, let’s eat lunch together from now on.” “Oh! I brought so much fruit and milk from home, it’s going to spoil if I don’t eat it soon. Mia, help me out!” “Hehe, Mia, you know I’m lazy. Can you help me get late-night snacks tonight? I’ll pay!” Everyone talked at once. I heard the subtle help in their words, and a warm feeling surged through me. Roommates, who shared no blood relation, were offering me a helping hand, while my own parents were trying to drive me to a dead end! In that moment, my last shred of hope for parental love was completely shattered. Over the next month, though living expenses were tight, with the help of my roommates, I managed to get by. I thought that after this period of turmoil, I could at least smoothly face my university applications. But then my homeroom teacher, Mr. Harrison, suddenly found me. “Mia Miller, your tuition has been overdue for so long, why haven’t you paid it yet?” Tuition? Didn’t Mom pay it before school started? She transferred it to the school-issued bank account, waiting to be deducted. I saw her do it with my own eyes. Did she withdraw the money to punish me? If that were the case, I truly had no options left. Even with my roommates’ utmost help, the high tuition fees were something a high school senior like me couldn’t possibly raise. Extremely desperate, I had no choice but to try and overcome my fear, dialing Mom’s number once more. Sure enough, when I mentioned the unpaid tuition, I was met with an even more furious torrent of insults. “Liar! Thief!” “You must have stolen and spent that money!” “Do we look like the kind of parents in your eyes who wouldn’t send their child to school? Your dad and I poured so much effort into your education since you were little. Asking that question is so disrespectful and it’s like stabbing me in the heart!” “Tell me, where did you secretly spend that money?” I was terrified, my mind racing. A memory suddenly flashed in my mind. “It was Chloe. She was there when you transferred the tuition and secretly watched you enter the transfer PIN.” I had seen it with my own eyes, but I didn’t understand what she intended then and didn’t think much of it afterward. At these words, a dreadful silence fell on the other end of the phone. After a long while, Mom finally coldly squeezed out a sentence through gritted teeth. “Not only stealing money but also slandering others, Mia. When did you become so wicked?” The next day during morning self-study, my parents stormed into the classroom and dragged me to the school gate. I was completely bewildered, only hearing Dad’s unchallengeable tone saying, “Kneel.” The next second, a heavy kick landed behind my knees. I knelt at the school gate in front of everyone, with people coming and going, all turning to stare. Dad’s heartbroken and furious voice came from above me. “I, David Miller, am a failure for raising such a morally corrupt daughter. Not only did she steal money, but she also slandered her own relatives. Today, right in front of all of you, I’m going to teach her a good lesson.” With that, he took out his belt and whipped me, lash after lash. People gathered around in circles, many of them parents dropping off their children. I heard them say, “Isn’t that the famous Mr. Miller? What did his daughter do to make him so angry?” “She stole tuition money and even slandered her cousin. This Mia usually seems so honest, I never expected her to be this kind of person. So rich, yet doing something like this. She’s inherently evil. I need to keep our children away from her.” “Mr. Miller is truly amazing, such a powerful man, yet he doesn’t spoil his child at all. I don’t envy people like him with money, because he’s fair-minded.” “Mr. Miller! A good lesson!” “Bad kids need to be disciplined like this, or they won’t learn their lesson! Mr. Miller is awesome!” Cheers erupted from the crowd, and at the same time, gazes of contempt were cast upon me. Listening to the praise from the crowd, my dad’s face showed a proud expression. It seemed playing the role of a strict father in front of others greatly pleased him, and the force of his hand unconsciously grew heavier. An unprecedented humiliation and intense pain utterly shattered my dignity. I finally made up my mind to execute a crazy plan I had been devising for a long time. Looking at my smugly smiling parents, I closed my eyes in disgust. You despise me, your daughter? Good, because I don’t want you as my parents anymore either.

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