Category: English

After my brother, Ethan, found out that I was a fake heiress, I tied his hands to the chair and forced his jaw open, pouring poison down his throat. I smirked softly. “Soon, the pain will go away, Ethan…” The chat exploded: “Oh my God, when will this vile woman finally get off the screen? Someone save my poor boy, I can’t take this heartbreak anymore!” I was bound to the Knife System, where only by tormenting the readers until their hearts ache could I replenish my health bar. At this moment, I was secretly laying another trap, waiting for the readers to piece together the blade, to harvest a massive wave of health points… After Ethan discovered that I wasn’t the real daughter of the Snow family, I bound his hands and forced him into the chair, prying his mouth open to pour in the poison. Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes, slipping down his pale cheeks. He struggled to speak, “Sis… Sister…” I stared coldly as his porcelain-like skin began to fester and decay. In front of me, in the void, the chat went wild: “Ahhh, I can’t take it anymore! How can my poor, sweet Ethan still call her sister when she’s literally poisoning him? Someone send this wicked woman straight to the pits of hell!” “When will this vile woman leave? Please, someone save my poor boy! My heart can’t take this anymore!” Without another glance, I turned away, leaving Ethan writhing in agony. His body convulsed, but he barely had the strength to make a sound. I smirked again. “Soon, you won’t feel anything, Ethan…” I turned, cold and detached, and walked away. Just as I reached the door, I made sure to let the readers see that I wasn’t as calm as I appeared. My fingers trembled as they fumbled to unlock the door. “Oh, now she’s panicking, huh? If you’re so scared, why don’t you call an ambulance for my boy? Maybe then you can at least die a little more peacefully!” I was pleased: excellent, the first piece of the knife was set. Soon, all these small blades would form a deadly sword, and I’d harvest a huge amount of health points. I was bound to the Knife System—only by making the readers’ hearts ache could I replenish my health bar. Sitting in my car, I pulled out a file, making sure to let just a corner of it show, enough for the readers to catch sight of it. “What is that wicked woman holding? Did I just see Ethan’s name on it? And… is that a DNA test?” “Wait, what? Shouldn’t her name be on it? Isn’t she supposed to be Grace Snow?” I smirked inwardly. Time for the second piece of the knife. I slammed on the gas, and the car sped away. Behind me, flames engulfed the beach house… As the chat went wild with speculation, the system chimed: “Ding, you’ve collected 30% of your health points.”

Three years later. It was late at night, and I was in my lab, working on a new poison that had come to me in a sudden burst of inspiration. The Snow family was well-known in the medical field in the United States, but I had a preference for crafting ancient poisons. Things like the Laughing Death Poison, One-Day-Kill Powder, and the infamous Five-Poison Dust—I knew them all. Suddenly, my phone rang. “Hello, is this Grace? Daniel had too much to drink, and you’re listed as his emergency contact. Could you come pick him up?” I sighed, setting down the glass vial. “Alright, where are you?” Ten minutes later, I was standing outside the private club lounge. As soon as I walked in, Daniel, thoroughly drunk, waved at me excitedly. “Grace! You’re here! Come, I’ve got someone I want you to meet. He’s the eldest son of the Song family—just back from overseas!” I smiled as I turned to greet this new acquaintance. But when my eyes met those familiar, cold eyes, my purse slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a thud. “I’m sorry,” I quickly knelt down, using the moment to cover my panic. It was him… Even though his face had changed, I recognized him instantly. The one person I thought I’d never see again—my brother. The one whose picture had been on a gravestone for the past three years. Everyone believed he had died in a tragic accident… my brother, Ethan. “Grace, you’re always so clumsy.” Daniel staggered over to help me pick up the lipstick that had rolled out of my purse. As he stood up, he almost lost his balance. I quickly steadied him, but at that moment, I heard a low chuckle from behind me. I couldn’t help but turn, briefly locking eyes with that same cold gaze. In the past… Those eyes had been like a clear mountain stream, so pure, so gentle. He always used to call out to me with that dependent tone: “Sister! Sister!” “Sis, you’re back! I missed you so much!” I looked down, hiding the tears welling up in my eyes from the readers’ view, my lips moving in silence. The chat exploded with comments: “Ha! Grace must be shaking in her boots! My boy has come back, and her days are numbered. I can’t wait to see how he’s going to make her pay!” “Oh my God, I can read lips! Did she just say ‘Ethan, I missed you too’?! What the hell?!

After a brief introduction, the others left, until only Daniel—who passed out three minutes later—and Ryan remained. I pretended not to recognize Ryan as I grabbed Daniel by the arm and tried to drag him out of the lounge. But suddenly, Ryan grabbed my wrist, throwing me onto the couch with a force that knocked the breath out of me. Meanwhile, Daniel crashed to the floor, completely undisturbed in his drunken slumber. I gasped in shock. “Ryan, what are you doing?!” Ryan sneered, gripping my face tightly. “Grace, my dearest sister, do you really not recognize me? I’m Ethan, the brother you poisoned.” “Surprised? I didn’t die. My face didn’t rot away. And now, I’m the esteemed Ryan Song of the Song family!” He leaned in closer, his grip tightening. “Now, your precious Snow family is nothing more than a dog groveling at my feet. If I’m feeling generous, I might toss them a bone. If not…” His hand squeezed harder. “I’ll destroy them.” Tears welled up in my eyes from the pain. I could see the hatred burning behind his calm expression. Struggling to speak, I whispered, “Please… for old times’ sake… spare the Snow family…” Ryan laughed coldly. “Didn’t you poison me because you didn’t want our parents to find out you weren’t their real daughter? You were afraid of losing your place.” “Well, let’s see what happens when they get to make the choice themselves—will they choose wealth and status, or you?” He stood up, pulling out a wet wipe to clean his hands before tossing it onto me. As he reached the door, he turned and shot me a cruel smile. “Enjoy your last peaceful night.” By the next morning, my parents had handed me over to Ryan without a second thought. With forced smiles, they left me with one last remark: “Grace was out of line for offending you, Ryan. Whatever punishment you deem fit, go ahead!” A maid’s uniform was tossed at me. Ryan grinned darkly. “Put this on. From now on, you’re my maid.” When I emerged, humiliated, in the maid uniform, Ryan’s eyes lingered on me before he ordered, “Clean every inch of this house until there’s not a speck of dust.” I obediently grabbed a cloth and bucket, getting down on my knees to scrub the floor. Two hours later. A pair of slippers appeared in front of me, and Ryan kicked me in the side, grumbling, “Why are you so slow?” The bucket tipped over, spilling dirty water all over me. “Disgusting,” Ryan said, his voice full of disdain. “Now, I’m starving. Make me a steak, roasted duck, an egg tart, and… oh, throw in some spicy noodles.” He rattled off a long list of dishes. I nodded, without a hint of complaint. “Got it.” Just then, the system switched to a first-person perspective, capturing my thoughts: “I’m sorry, Ethan. If doing all this can ease even a fraction of your anger, I’ll gladly do it. I only hope the poison will leave your system soon…” In return, the readers unleashed a torrent of insults: “Ugh, now she regrets it? Too little, too late! The only way to make up for it is to die!” “She’s talking about curing his poison—does she even have the antidote?” “But Ethan’s fine now! The doctors said so. Why is she still pretending? Where’s my sweet, soft-hearted heroine? I’m sick of looking at this woman!” Ryan, watching me soak in dirty water, seemed irritated and walked off. 4 After spending three hours in the kitchen, I prepared a banquet that mixed Western and Eastern dishes. I knocked on the door to let Ryan know. The door opened, and a stunning woman appeared, her eyes challenging as she smiled at me. “Ryan’s in the shower. You can wait, little maid.” I lowered my eyes and nodded. “Alright.” I headed downstairs, where I waited for Ryan to emerge, wrapped in a bathrobe, his arm around the woman’s waist as they came to the table. Suddenly, Ryan slammed his chopsticks down and glared at me. “What are you standing there for? Get over here and serve us. Peel the shrimp, and make sure there are no bones in the fish. If Monica gets hurt, it’s your head.” Monica feigned concern. “Oh, Ryan, why are you being so harsh? Grace must be hungry too. Shouldn’t we invite her to eat with us?” Ryan sneered. “The dog and the maid don’t get to sit at the table. They can eat our leftovers.” Without a word, I walked over and began peeling the shrimp, silently enduring the humiliation. After dinner, Ryan scraped the leftovers into two bowls. One, he set down for his dog, and the other, he placed beside the dog’s bed. He called out to me, “From now on, this is where you’ll eat.” A single tear slipped down my face, but when I looked up, my expression was empty. “Understood.” Ryan lost interest immediately, scoffing. “Just like I thought, no feelings at all—just a stone.” Then, he wrapped his arm around Monica and headed for the door. “Didn’t you say there’s a new handbag you want? Let’s go get it.” “You’re the best, Ryan!” Monica squealed, planting a kiss on his cheek. I looked away in discomfort, but I made sure Ryan caught the flicker of pain in my expression. Seeing that I was hurt, Ryan’s face lit up with twisted satisfaction. He lifted Monica into his arms, heading out the door, but not before tossing one last line over his shoulder: “I’m not coming back tonight.” I couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly. Who even wants you back? The days blurred together after that. Mopping floors, spilling dirty water, cooking meals, and watching Ryan and Monica’s public displays of affection were the repetitive cycle of my new life. It was dull, predictable. “These small tricks aren’t even enough to satisfy me.” Still, some readers began to feel sympathy for me, and my health bar rose by 10%. Until one day. I received a message from Daniel. A smile tugged at my lips, excitement gleaming in my eyes: Finally, the real show is about to begin…

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My husband was driving to pick up his mother to bring her to the city when the accident happened. To protect him, I lost my legs and could never have children again. Instead of gratitude, they grew disgusted with me and had me committed to a mental institution. I wasted away and eventually died. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the morning of the accident. This time, I was not getting into that car. “Hurry up, stop dragging your feet! Mum’s waiting for us!” My husband’s face was full of impatience, and I felt a little dazed. I still had my legs. This wasn’t the cold hospital bed of a mental ward. The spring breeze felt warm on my cheeks. It dawned on me—I had been given another chance. I was alive again. I looked down at the bags I was holding and then at my husband, James, smoking in the driver’s seat of his black Ford Focus. I realized this was the morning he was supposed to pick up his mother, Margaret Scott, to move into the city with us. The morning the crash would happen. I placed the gift boxes in the boot of the car. Soon enough, they’d be smashed to bits along with the car. I slowly walked over to the passenger window. “I’m not going. I don’t feel well.” James frowned. “What’s this now? Another one of your moods? Get in the car, stop being difficult!” I stood there, expressionless, staring at him. “What’s the big deal if you don’t go? It’s not like I care. Mum’s the one always talking about you, thinking of you.” A wave of disgust washed over me. I knew she only wanted me around to wait on her and her precious son. When I didn’t respond, James slammed the window shut, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust fumes. I turned and headed back upstairs. Inside, I found the pink teddy bear tin. Sure enough, the bankbook was still there. £16,000, untouched. £8,000 was my wedding savings, and the rest was our joint fund. In the last life, after the crash, James claimed the money had been lost in bad stock investments. He said there was nothing left to pay for my recovery and refused further treatment. He brought me home, neglected me, and let me waste away in bed. But now I knew the truth. He had hidden the money. How cruel. This time, I wouldn’t let them walk all over me. I took the bankbook, went to a few nearby banks, and withdrew all the money. Then I went straight to the jewellers opposite the bank and bought a 200g gold bar and two 100g gold bracelets. I remembered that in six months, gold prices would skyrocket to an all-time high. By then, I would be rotting away in a mental institution, catching bits of news from the radio. As I left the jewellers, my phone rang—a number I didn’t recognise. “Hello, who’s speaking?” “Hello, is this Catherine Thompson? This is Officer Weston from the Sheffield traffic unit. Your husband, James Scott, has been involved in a car accident. He’s unconscious. Are you his next of kin?” “He’s my husband! Is he alright? What happened?” I asked, forcing my voice to sound panicked. “He’s been taken by ambulance to St George’s Hospital. We’ve towed the vehicle to clear the road.” After hanging up, I dropped the fake concern from my face, holding back the excitement bubbling inside me. Just as I expected. When I arrived at the hospital and stood outside the emergency room, I overheard the doctors. “Has anyone reached the next of kin yet? James Scott’s family?” I rushed forward and shouted, “I’m here! I’m his wife!”

I stumbled forward, my face a picture of concern. “How’s James? Doctor, please, you’ve got to save him!” “Mrs Scott, your husband’s been severely injured below the waist, especially his legs.” “There are two options. We can transfer him to the Royal London Hospital, where they can use cutting-edge technology to save his legs. Or we can perform an emergency amputation here to prevent infection and save his life.” So there was another option back then! Why did James choose to have my legs amputated? “What are the risks with the first option?” “The technique is well-established at the Royal London, but it’s expensive. The medical costs could reach several hundred thousand pounds.” Of course, it was about money. My legs weren’t worth more than the cash in James’s eyes. “If we transfer him, our ambulance and best medical staff are ready.” I didn’t need to think about it. Of course, we’d go with amputation. This was the path James chose for me. “Doctor, don’t worry about the money. I’ll do whatever it takes to save my husband.” The doctor nodded. “However, I need to discuss this with my mother-in-law. She controls all the family’s finances.” I gestured to the phone in my hand, which had been ringing non-stop. “Mrs Scott, you must make a decision quickly. Every minute of delay increases the risk to your husband.” I nodded and answered the call. The empty hallway echoed with Margaret Scott’s sharp voice. “Catherine! You’ve got some nerve! I’ve been calling you for ages. What on earth are you up to?!” Her tone was the same as ever—rude and domineering. “It’s nearly noon. Are you two coming back or not? The family’s waiting to help, and James hasn’t checked in!” “Mum, I…” Ever since I married James, calling her “Mum” always gave her a smug satisfaction, as though it cemented her authority as the head of the family. I barely got a word in before she interrupted again. I hurried into the stairwell for some peace. “You’re always on about being busy, but you never earn half of what James does! You should quit that silly florist job and focus on taking care of him properly.” Her usual insults. Soon enough, she’d be the one taking care of her precious son. “Mum!” I yelled into the phone, hitting the record button. “James got into a car accident on the way to pick you up! He’s in hospital!” I made sure to sound convincingly devastated. “What? How could this happen?” I imagined the shock on her face, and it almost made me laugh. “Mum, you need to sell the house in Barnsley. Take the money James has given you over the years.” “Ask the relatives for a loan too. We need at least £100,000 if he’s going to have any chance of treatment in London. Otherwise, he’ll lose his legs.” I let out a few more sobs for effect. “£100,000?! You’re trying to kill me! I don’t have that kind of money. James never gave me anything!” “That’s my life savings! You witch, this is all your fault!” Margaret’s cries filled the phone. “Mum, I’ll mortgage the house for £10,000. You’ll have to find the rest.” Margaret continued wailing about her lack of money. Like her son, she loved herself and her savings more than anything. After all, she’d climbed her way out of poverty thanks to James, her golden goose. No way was she letting go of his hard-earned cash. “Mum, the doctors are waiting. You need to decide now, or it’ll be too late for the amputation.” “Fine, fine! Amputate his legs! Oh, my boy! What will I do now?!” Of course. Better to let her son lose his legs than to part with a penny. I slumped against the wall outside the operating theatre, muttering to myself. “How could they have no money? He’s given them so much every year. Why wouldn’t they use it to save him? Why did he have to lose his legs…” A nurse helped me to my feet, squeezing my hand. “Mrs Scott, you need to stay strong. What’s your decision?” “His mother won’t give us the money. He’ll have to have the amputation. How heartless she is… I can’t lose my husband. Please, do whatever you can to keep him alive.” I sobbed quietly as I signed the consent form. It was exhausting to keep up the act. Afterward, I sat on the hospital floor, resting my head on my knees, waiting. I needed to call Margaret again. It was time for her to come and take care of her precious boy. Just then, my phone rang again.

It was Mum. In the last life, after my legs were amputated, Mum cared for me day and night. She fed me, washed me, looked after me until she wore herself out. She never had time to look after her own health. By the time we realised something was wrong, it was too late—advanced cancer. No matter how much I cried, I couldn’t do anything but watch as Mum wasted away. I had been a disobedient daughter, marrying and moving far away, leaving her to live alone. She gave everything for me, always gentle, always kind. I hesitated to answer the phone, afraid that this might all be just a dream. When I picked up, Mum’s soft voice came through the line. “Kate, are you at the in-laws’ now? Did everything go smoothly? Margaret didn’t give you a hard time, did she?” Tears welled up immediately. Mum was still worried about me, always thinking of me first. In truth, it was Mum who should have been looked after, not me. But I had been too weak to stand up for myself. “No, Mum, everything’s fine,” I said, my voice trembling. “Are you sure? You sound upset.” “Mum, I had a nightmare last night. A horrible dream where you got sick and left me. I was so sad, Mum…” I bit my arm to stop the sobs, trying to keep my voice quiet. “Silly girl, you’re my treasure. I’d never leave you. Not for anything.” She was right. In my last life, when no one was willing to pay for my treatment, Mum sold the house and worked herself to the bone, borrowing money to keep me alive. “I know you love me, Mum. I’ve booked you a health check-up. I’ll come home in a couple of days and take you.” “A health check? There’s no need for that. I’m perfectly fine. Don’t waste your money.” “I’ve already paid. You’ll have to go, or the money will be wasted.” Mum was always so frugal, always putting herself last. “Well, alright then. Are you and James coming back together? I’ll make your favourite egg and onion rolls.” “James is busy with work. Mum, I’ve got another call coming through. I’ll talk to you soon, alright?” The doors of the operating theatre opened again, and two doctors approached. I couldn’t let Mum know about the accident. Otherwise, she’d rush to the hospital to take care of James. “Mrs Scott, your husband’s surgery was a success. He can be transferred to a regular ward now.” “Thank you so much, Doctor.” After settling James in his room, I called Margaret again. “Mum, you need to bring £10,000 from the house and come over right away.” “We still need £10,000 for the amputation.” Margaret’s voice was low and grumbling. “James has given you far more than £10,000 over the years. Hurry up and get here, Mum. We still need to pay for his surgery.” I raised my voice. Looking at James, pale and helpless in the hospital bed, I felt a flicker of pity. But in the last life, he never felt pity for me. This time, the wheel of fate had turned. It was his burden to bear now.

The sun was beginning to set by the time James finally woke up. I rushed to his bedside, tears in my eyes. “Darling, your legs! They’re gone! What will we do now?” James blinked, looking confused. I stayed by his side, playing the dutiful wife, just like he had done in my past life. “Do you need some water, love? Here, let me help you,” I said, dabbing his lips with a damp cotton bud. “James, your surgery and rehabilitation will be expensive. I’ve decided we’ll sell the house to cover the costs.” At the mention of selling the house, James seemed to wake up fully. He turned to me, his face twisted in anger. “Amputation?! Who gave you the right to sign off on that? Are you just waiting for me to die so you can run off with that dog Edward?” After we got married, James slowly revealed his true nature, replacing the charm and gentleness with insults, belittlement, and even violence. Even now, with his legs gone, he couldn’t stop himself. “What does Edward have to do with this? It was your mother who made the decision. She said we couldn’t afford to save your legs.” I showed him the recording of Margaret refusing to pay. As I watched his face contort with rage, I couldn’t help but feel amused. “That’s not possible. I give her money every year! How could she not have enough? It must be at least £50,000 by now.” James muttered to himself. Ever since he left school, he had stopped relying on his family’s money. After graduating from university, he began sending monthly allowances to Margaret. In nearly a decade, it must have added up to £70,000 or more. And in the past couple of years, after becoming a senior engineer, he was poised to earn six figures as a manager. It seemed Margaret had her priorities all wrong. Who would promote a crippled man with no prospects? “Stop thinking about it. The decision’s been made. Let’s focus on your recovery now.” “Ahhhhhh!” James let out a silent scream of frustration. I pressed the nurse call button. The door opened, and it was Margaret, storming in. She grabbed me by the shoulders and started shaking me. “This is all your fault! Why didn’t you protect him? He’s the breadwinner! You’re a worthless cow! Why aren’t you the one who lost their legs?!” Margaret was strong, her hands yanking at my hair and clothes. I punched her twice—once in the chin, then in the nose—sending her crashing to the ground. The shock on her face was priceless. She hadn’t expected her meek daughter-in-law to fight back. “Mum, everything that’s happened to James is because of you!” “He crashed because he was driving to pick you up. And you’re the one who decided to have his legs amputated. Did you forget what happened earlier today?”

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In the kitchen, Lachlan pressed against my back, trapping me against the counter. He reached one hand under my apron while casually feeding me a strawberry with the other. My face flushed red. He chuckled suggestively, “Stepsister, you sure know how to bite.” Mom turned to look at me from the dining room across the way, asking with concern, “Avalon, are you cold? Why are you shaking?” I never imagined the person I had a crush on for three years would become my stepbrother. The day I moved into the Harrison house with my mom, I was standing at the doorway when a bucket of water was dumped on me, soaking me from head to toe. Water dripped steadily off my clothes. Lachlan sauntered over with the empty bucket, looking me up and down with a nasty smirk. “Oops, my hand slipped. But…” He paused, “You’re barely wearing anything, so I’m sure you wanted to cool off anyway.” I looked down and realized my white shirt had gone completely see-through, revealing the color of my bra underneath. Horrified, I quickly crossed my arms over my chest. Lachlan’s laughter grew even more unrestrained. He must have seen everything! The thought made my face burn with embarrassment. “Lachlan!” His brother Callum rushed over. A jacket with a faint soapy scent fell over my shoulders as Callum stepped in front of me, ushering me inside. “Avalon, go change first. I’ll deal with him later.” He pushed me into the downstairs bathroom, where I stood in shock. My heart was still pounding. I had finally seen Lachlan in person. He was just as handsome as before, unchanged. Except… he didn’t seem to welcome me. I suppose that makes sense, given that my mom had broken up his family. Bang bang bang! Loud knocking on the door made me jump back several steps. As I hesitated nervously, Lachlan’s voice came from outside: “I brought you some clothes.” My heart, which had just calmed down, started racing again. I looked at my soaked, disheveled reflection in the mirror and didn’t dare open the door. But Lachlan started turning the doorknob. Thank goodness I had locked it. When he couldn’t open it, he threatened, “If you don’t open up, I’m going to kick the door down.” “Don’t think I won’t. I’ll count to three – one, two…” Of course I knew he would do it. Lachlan always followed through on his threats. I looked around frantically and grabbed a towel to wrap around myself. Just as he reached “three,” I rushed to the door and opened it. Lachlan was leaning casually against the doorframe with my clothes draped over his arm. He was very tall, looking down at me with his striking features – high cheekbones, a sharp nose with a small mole at the tip. His eyes swept over my chest and he smirked disdainfully. “Why are you covering up? Weren’t you trying to show off and seduce someone?” “No, I wasn’t,” I protested quietly, my voice thick with hurt. I had never intended to seduce anyone. “Avalon, don’t play innocent. Your mom’s a homewrecker and you’re just a little seductress. Your mom seduced my dad, and now you’re here to seduce my brother.” He frowned with obvious irritation. “Take off my brother’s jacket!” I froze, not daring to move. If I took it off he would see everything. But if I didn’t listen to him, he would get angry. “Take it off!” he repeated. Nervously clutching the towel around me, I glanced at the clothes on his arm and said, “Give me the dry clothes first.” Lachlan held up the clothes in his arms. I immediately reached out to take them, but he quickly pulled them back. “You want them? Beg me for them.” Lachlan tilted his head, smiling slightly as he looked at me. “Give them to me!” I lunged forward. Lachlan was quick, raising the clothes high above his head. I jumped but still couldn’t reach them. How tall was he exactly?! I had to jump even higher. This time I used more force, but I was still just short. Not only did I fail to grab the clothes, I lost my balance when I landed and stumbled forward into Lachlan. “Tsk.” I heard his mocking laugh. “Are you trying to copy your mom’s tricks and seduce me?” Lachlan taunted. I suddenly realized my entire body was pressed against him, especially my upper half which was squished right against his arm. Even worse, in the commotion the towel I had wrapped around myself had nearly fallen off, barely covering anything. I quickly clutched the towel tighter and turned away from him. “What’s wrong? Not going to continue?” Lachlan said. “Those weak moves won’t be enough to seduce my brother, you know.” That’s not it, I never intended to seduce anyone. But at this point, no matter what I said, he wouldn’t believe me. My heart was full of hurt, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. I knew Lachlan hated me and my mom. After all, his mother had only passed away recently, and now my mom had moved in with me, taking his mother’s place. I understood why he hated me. But he shouldn’t misunderstand me like this. “Lachlan!” Callum’s voice rang out. “What are you doing? Blocking a girl’s way to the bathroom is incredibly rude!” “Brother, why do you always take her side?” “Avalon just moved in, you should be more considerate. Besides, she’s older than you, so she’s your stepsister. Don’t be so disrespectful. Give her the clothes.” Lachlan quickly retorted, “I don’t have a stepsister like her.” “Give her the clothes!” Callum ordered firmly. Lachlan glared at me before finally handing over the clothes, gritting out, “Here you go, stepsister.” Callum sighed and said to me, “Avalon, I’m sorry. He’s always been ill-mannered. Go ahead and change.” I took the clothes and whispered a thank you, then closed the door. Soon after, I heard them walk away. Alone in the bathroom, I hugged the clean clothes and finally broke down crying. I had a crush on Lachlan for three years, but in the end, I became his stepsister, hated by him.

After changing and coming out, Callum said the whole family would have dinner together later. I already knew Callum before moving in – he was my teacher’s star student. I never expected that connection would come into play here. He was following my teacher’s wishes by looking out for me. At the dinner table, my mom’s eyes were glued to Uncle Harrison, barely noticing me. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself either, so I ate quietly. But Uncle Harrison brought me up anyway. “I hear Avalon is Callum’s junior at school. What a coincidence!” Uncle Harrison looked at me approvingly. “If you ever need anything, just ask Callum. He’s very reliable.” “I understand, Uncle,” I said in a small voice. Uncle Harrison was clearly pleased, praising me: “Such a good girl.” Just as he finished speaking, someone scoffed loudly. Lachlan stabbed his chopsticks into his bowl, saying, “What an act.” Uncle Harrison’s face immediately darkened as he scolded, “Lachlan, don’t be rude.” Callum also gave him a warning look. He said, “Avalon just joined our family and she’s a girl. You should take better care of her.” I thought Lachlan would argue back, but he said, “Fine, I’ll take good care of my stepsister from now on and bond with her.” Then he smiled at me. I shuddered, sensing that smile wasn’t as innocent as it seemed. With him behaving, we managed to finish dinner without further incident. After dinner, I didn’t dare linger in the living room and went straight to my room. I was unpacking when someone knocked on the door. Thinking it was my mom, I quickly put down what I was holding and went to open it. But when I looked up, I saw Lachlan instead. I froze for two seconds, instinctively trying to close the door, but Lachlan wedged his foot between the door and the frame. “You…” I had only said one word before he forcefully pushed his way in. Bang. He closed the door behind him. “What… what are you doing?” I backed up two steps. Lachlan scanned the room with interest before saying, “You like my brother?” What kind of strange question was that? I quickly shook my head. “Why are you shaking your head? Isn’t my brother the reason you moved into our house?” he said. “No, he’s not,” I denied again. Lachlan moved closer, looking down at me. “Then why did you move in? Your mom said you originally didn’t want to move here.” I was at a loss for words. It was true that I initially didn’t want to move in with my mom, but when I found out Lachlan was back home, I agreed. How could I tell him that I moved in because of him? When I didn’t answer for a long time, Lachlan took my silence as confirmation and warned me through gritted teeth: “You little seductress, don’t you dare try to seduce my brother!” I couldn’t explain myself, so I just said, “Get out!” Lachlan glared at me, about to turn around when someone knocked on the door again. This time, it was his brother Callum. “Avalon, it’s Callum. Do you have a moment?” I was about to speak when the person in front of me suddenly covered my mouth. My eyes widened in shock as I tried to pry his hand away. Lachlan smirked and pressed me against the door, releasing his hand. He leaned down and kissed me, once again silencing me. In that moment, my mind went blank. He actually kissed me! How could he kiss me? “Avalon, are you there?” Callum’s voice snapped me back to reality. We were kissing with just a door separating us from his brother. This realization made my blood boil with shame. I quickly pushed Lachlan away. But he leaned in even closer, pinning my hands above my head as he whispered, “Stepsister, better not make a sound. You wouldn’t want my brother to hear.” Then he kissed me even more fiercely. “Avalon, are you alright?” Callum sounded worried after getting no response for so long. I couldn’t push Lachlan away, so I steeled myself and kicked him hard. Lachlan hissed in pain. “Ouch, stepsister, that was mean. Are you that eager to open the door for him?” I glared at him, not daring to speak for fear I would start crying. Lachlan smirked and said, “Fine, let’s let my brother see what you look like right now.” “He doesn’t know you like him, right? “I wonder what he’ll think if he finds out you like him but are also kissing his brother in your room? “Stepsister, I’m so curious to know.” I looked at him in horror, whispering, “What are you going to do?” Lachlan didn’t answer. His hand silently reached behind me and grasped the doorknob. I realized what he was about to do and softened my voice to plead with him: “No, don’t open the door.” At this moment, I was still in his embrace, our position intimate. If the door opened and Callum saw us like this, I wouldn’t be able to explain no matter how hard I tried. I didn’t know what the consequences would be. But Lachlan was like the devil as he pressed down on the doorknob. Click. “Lachlan…” The door opened and I thought it was all over. In the next second, I was spun around and a hand on my waist pushed me forward. I stumbled a few steps and steadied myself at the doorway. The door closed behind me. I carefully looked back but didn’t see Lachlan. My heart finally settled down. “Avalon, what’s wrong? Why are your lips so red?” Callum asked curiously. I turned my head, instinctively covering my lips with my hand. I hadn’t noticed before, but now my lips felt like they were on fire. “It’s nothing,” I said, quickly changing the subject. “Callum, what did you want to see me about?” Callum said, “It’s nothing major. I wanted to apologize for earlier today. Lachlan isn’t a bad kid, he just has a temper. Please don’t take it personally.” I shook my head and said, “I didn’t take it to heart.” Callum smiled gently. “I know you’re good-natured and won’t mind, but if he bullies you in the future, you have to tell me.” I nodded in agreement. “Mm.” Callum said a few more things before handing me a glass of milk and leaving reassured. As soon as he left, I quickly opened the door. Lachlan stood by the door with his arms crossed, expressionless as he stared at me. “You…” I didn’t dare go in. Lachlan smirked coldly: “You sure listen to my brother well.” After speaking, he took the milk from my hand and drank half of it in one go, his Adam’s apple bobbing. I stared at him blankly. The next second, Lachlan grabbed my chin and suddenly poured milk into my mouth. I was caught off guard and choked badly. When I looked up again, Lachlan’s face held a hint of a smile, as if somewhat satisfied. Long after he left, I still couldn’t calm down. It seemed I had thoroughly provoked him. By the time I lay in bed, my mom finally came to see me. I thought she had come to check on me, but she told me to endure it and not provoke the two young masters of the Harrison family, especially Lachlan. “Mom has no choice. I just arrived in this family and it’s not easy. Your Uncle Harrison won’t even agree to marry me yet…” I bit my lip and nodded. “I understand.”

After a night of tossing and turning, I woke up late the next day. When I came out, they were already eating breakfast. Callum wasn’t there, he must have gone out. My mom saw me and gave me a reproachful look. Uncle Harrison seemed quite happy though. After some small talk, he told me to quickly sit down and eat breakfast. As soon as I sat down, Lachlan said, “Stepsister, Mom said your soup is delicious. I really want to try it.” My mom immediately chimed in, “Yes, it’s her specialty.” Then she said to me, “Avalon, go to the kitchen and make some soup for Lachlan.” Seeing the mischievous glint in Lachlan’s eyes, I knew he was doing this on purpose. But I had no choice. I could only obediently go to the kitchen to make soup for him. It’s not actually difficult, just takes some time. At least this way I didn’t have to eat at the same table as them. But just as I was halfway through, Lachlan also came into the kitchen. He said he was there to help me. For just one pot of soup, what help did I need? He was probably here to tease me. But he had already come in and was taking a bowl of strawberries out of the fridge. “I heard you like strawberries.” He put the strawberries in the sink. “I bought these especially for you.” Every time he called me “stepsister,” I felt like he was up to no good. “Stepsister, try one and see if they’re good.” He held out a strawberry to my lips. I instinctively took a step back, looking at him apprehensively. He smiled and asked in a low voice, “Why are you running away?” Then he quickly stepped forward, pressing against my back. “You…” I had just opened my mouth when he grabbed my hand and continued, “Stepsister, teach me. Once I learn, I can make soup for my dad.” He was really too close, and this was an open kitchen with the dining table right across from us. My mom must have heard because she laughed and said, “Avalon, go ahead and teach Lachlan. You’re stepsiblings now, one family. There’s nothing to hide.” I nodded in agreement and shifted forward a bit, not wanting to touch Lachlan behind me. At the same time, I reminded him, “You can just stand to the side.” “Stepsister, I prefer to learn from behind,” he said as he squeezed even closer. I was practically bent over the counter. Suddenly Lachlan reached around and grabbed my waist, pulling me back against him. “Stepsister, that position was dangerous,” he said in a low voice by my ear. I was startled and my hand shook, dropping the spoon into the pot. “Lachlan, you…” I wanted to tell him he was too close. But unexpectedly, his hand on my waist continued to wander. My whole body froze. “Stepsister, if you don’t get the spoon soon it’ll be too late,” he reminded me. I hurriedly picked up the spoon and continued stirring the soup. My other hand reached down to where the counter blocked the view, grabbing Lachlan’s wandering hand. But Lachlan caught my hand instead, gently kneading it. I widened my eyes in shock. He was just trying to take advantage of me! “Stepsister, isn’t it time to add sugar?” he asked. I quickly pulled my hand away to add the sugar. Taking advantage of this moment, Lachlan actually slipped his hand under my apron. And I was wearing a dress today! I immediately panicked, not knowing what to do. “Lachlan, don’t… please don’t do this…” I quietly begged him. He chuckled and picked up a strawberry, saying, “Stepsister, don’t let your hand shake. If you add too much sugar it won’t taste good.” My hand holding the spoon was trembling badly. I didn’t dare put it down, and it shook even more. He was really going too far! I wanted to escape, but my whole body was trapped against the counter. Across from us, my mom and Uncle Harrison were eating breakfast, occasionally glancing over. “Mmm…” Just as I was about to make a sound, Lachlan stuffed a strawberry in my mouth, muffling my voice. “Stepsister, the strawberries are big today, aren’t they? Make sure to eat it all up.” I bit down hard, and sweet juice immediately flowed out, dripping all over his hand. Lachlan lowered his voice, his tone ambiguous: “Stepsister, you sure know how to bite.” He grabbed a napkin from the side and wiped my mouth, feigning exasperation: “Seriously, you’re dripping everywhere.” At that moment, my mom happened to look over from the dining table. In an instant, she frowned and asked, “Avalon, are you cold? Why are you shaking?”

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In my previous life, my biological parents sent me to a mental asylum for the sake of their adopted daughter, leaving me to be trampled upon. I ended up paralyzed, with festering wounds, dying with hatred in my heart. When I opened my eyes again, I decided to go crazy and destroy everyone! I was reborn, right at the family dinner where my biological parents had brought me back home. In my previous life, my scumbag father and mother only recognized me when I was almost of age, wanting to get their hands on the inheritance my grandfather had left for me. They found me lacking and unrefined. On the surface, we appeared to be a happy family, but behind closed doors, neither my father nor mother truly cared for me. They emotionally manipulated me, living a lavish lifestyle on my money. Based on a single comment from their adopted daughter Sophia Carter, they even sent me to a mental asylum. In the end, I was paralyzed, lying in bed with festering wounds, starving to death. This time around, I’m going to abandon any notion of family ties and take back everything that’s rightfully mine. Suddenly, I felt a cool breeze under my skirt! I collected myself and realized I was standing just outside the kitchen door, holding a chicken in my left hand and a duck in my right, with a chubby kid crawling under my skirt! This shameless little brat was sent by Sophia! In my previous life, Sophia, under the guise of having our parents eat the freshest ingredients, specifically bought live chickens and ducks for me to slaughter, claiming it showed filial piety as a daughter. Not only did she make me smell like bird droppings at my own welcome dinner, but she also encouraged a distant relative’s child to play a prank while I was working in the kitchen. They took upskirt photos of me and spread them in the family group chat, making me a laughingstock. My parents already looked down on me, and after this incident, they openly favored Sophia even more. This time, as soon as the brat hugged my leg, I kicked him away, sending him flying about 6 feet. Ahhh— The kid let out a scream, and while everyone rushed to check on him, I finally had a moment to clear my head. Everyone came running at the sound, and the little brat was lying on the ground, wailing to his mother. “Lydia! Have you gone mad?” my mother’s voice rang out before I could say anything. I’m not mad! In my previous life, I was a well-behaved, sensible, and cultured child, yet they still sent me to a mental hospital. Sophia, afraid that our parents might change their minds and bring me back, had bribed the mental hospital to torture me to death! Every day, they took me for electroshock therapy, sending electric currents through my body until my skin was charred and broken. Then they would take me for hydrotherapy, locking me in an ice-filled bathtub for entire afternoons! In the end, I was set up to become completely paralyzed, my body rotting and stinking, living like a wild dog. Who wouldn’t go crazy after all that? Not only am I going crazy, but I’m also going to crawl in the shadows, scream, howl like a ghost, scurry across the ceiling, writhe in distorted ways, turn into a monkey, attack anyone who passes by indiscriminately, and destroy everyone in my path! “He was being a pervert, crawling under my skirt, and you’re saying I overreacted?” I retorted. “He’s just a little boy, what’s wrong with peeking under your skirt? If you dare to dress like that, why can’t others look? Why wear it if you don’t want people to see?” my sharp-tongued Aunt Karen shouted. “He’s only a teenager, how could you hit him?” the boy’s mother protested, hugging him. “It’s not like looking at you would make you lose a piece of flesh! Can’t you learn from your sister?” my mother chimed in. “Yes, sister, you’re being too rough!” Sophia added with fake concern. The group started chattering like a flock of ducks, and some even wanted to hit me. Damn, I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to punch the earth and make it explode!

One can’t be too normal in life. Endure for a moment, get breast hyperplasia; take a step back, get uterine fibroids; hold it in once, get ovarian cysts; curse once, and the world is your oyster! I rolled my shoulders, then threw the chicken and duck I was holding at the approaching people. Chaos erupted instantly. Since they’re all going to die anyway, why not let me destroy them! “Why am I wearing a skirt? To dance on your grave at your funeral party!” I lunged forward, grabbing two handfuls of Aunt Karen’s hair. “Come on, I’m just a kid too. You can’t hit me back, right?” Upper cut, lower cut, left hook, right hook, followed by a sweeping kick, tripping the boy’s mother and giving her a good beating, turning her face into a pig’s head. And as for my mother, “Looking won’t make you lose a piece of flesh, so let me take a look at yours!” With a loud rip, I tore her dress apart and started taking photos under her skirt with my phone, click after click. Oh ho— Sexy underwear, my eyes lit up. Let’s tear some more! Playing it wild, huh? I was as excited as a howling female gorilla. By the way, I shouted: “You’re so slutty!” Seeing this scene, Sophia was dumbfounded, not understanding why I, who had always been meek and obedient, had become so crazy. She trembled as she backed away. Seeing her reaction, I grabbed her by the collar. “You little bastard, hatching turtle eggs, are you trying to be like your mom?” “Sophia, dear sister! Let me show you just how rough I can be!” She had barely let out a scream when I grabbed a duck that was casually strolling by and introduced it to her face. Except, it was her face meeting the duck’s butt. The duck delivered, leaving a pile of poop on her face. I was very satisfied. The dead kid was still wailing half-alive over there. I decided to give him a grand gift. Eyeing the bag of crawfish, I had an excellent idea. You like crawling under girls’ skirts at such a young age? I’ll let you crawl to your heart’s content! I grabbed the biggest one, walked up to him, pulled open his pants, put the crawfish in, and tied the string in a tight knot. The movements were smooth and swift, done in one go. Hehe, let’s catch a little bird. A piercing scream rang out, and he actually fainted, clutching his crotch. “Tsk tsk tsk,” I shook my head. This won’t do. “You dare to make such a scene. Wait until Dad comes, he’ll beat you to death!” Sophia said, and my fists clenched again. “Before he arrives, I’ll finish you off first.” I rushed over and slapped her face left and right, smack smack smack, giving her several hard slaps. Her face was so thick, it hurt my hand. Tch, this won’t do. I need to find a slipper. I looked around and found that the pair on my mother’s feet would do nicely. Just as I was struggling to take off the shoe, my father arrived.

“What, what are you all doing?!” “Is this a marketplace?” He stood before the crowd, his eyes wide, his face red with anger, veins popping on his forehead. Hearing his voice, I paused, immediately messed up my hair into a bird’s nest, then screeched at him like a ghost. Being crazy feels good for a moment, being crazy all the time feels good forever. Since you don’t treat me like a human, I’ll drag everyone down with me. “Dad, Mom is wearing sexy underwear and wants to do a striptease.” Hearing me say this, everyone looked at my mother. She was flustered, unable to cover her exposed white thighs. Perhaps unable to bear everyone’s scrutiny, her eyes reddened, and she ran out crying. As she ran, she lost her last piece of clothing covering her modesty. Some mischievous onlookers whistled at her, their gazes towards my father clearly saying, “You’ve been cuckolded!” Bad news, my mom’s running around naked. Good news, I’m the one who made it happen. “Mom, don’t go! You left your bra here…” I shouted loudly at my mother while frantically waving her bra. I didn’t hold it well, and splat, it landed on my dad’s face. “Lydia!” My father gripped his fist tightly, his voice trembling, “What are you doing!” I spread my hands innocently, “Hehe, my hand slipped.” Sophia, with her swollen pig face, sidled up to him, “Dad, I’ve been annoyed with her for a long time. Hurry up and beat her to death!” My father was almost bursting with anger, “Insulting your mother, beating your sister! Do you have any shame left?” In one ear and out the other, I replied, “If you can’t stand me, why don’t you just die? Why bother scolding me?”

He pointed at me, “You, you, you… Do you believe I’ll send you back?” He was referring to my adoptive parents’ home. Years ago, I was kidnapped by human traffickers and sold to a family in a nearby village who had a mentally challenged son. They had grand plans of buying a girl to raise from childhood and then marrying her off to their son when she grew up. So from a young age, I was treated like an animal by that family. In summer, I had to work in the fields with my adoptive father under scorching temperatures; in winter, to save electricity for the family, I had to wash their clothes with ice-cold water drawn from the well. As a result, my eighteen-year-old hands had layers of calluses peeling off, looking like those of a forty-year-old woman! Not only that, they instilled in their mentally challenged son from childhood that I was his wife, and that any mistreatment was justified. As a result, from childhood to adulthood, I not only had to guard against being harassed by the mentally challenged boy but was also frequently beaten by him! The fear left by the mentally challenged boy and my adoptive parents was so deep that even after two lifetimes, it still made me tremble. My father saw my face turn pale instantly and smiled smugly, “You still have a month before your birthday. Sign this property transfer agreement now, or I’ll send you back to that poor mountain village!” “Let you be the wife of a mentally challenged man forever!”

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One day, I heard some strange noises coming from Mrs. Gloria Bennett’s room. At first, I thought Mr. Charles Bennett had come home. But to my shock, it wasn’t him at all—Mrs. Bennett was having an affair! She knew I wouldn’t dare reveal her secret and continued acting with complete disregard. But just a few days later, she was diagnosed with HIV. And the man she was having an affair with… he was dead. It was a hot summer day, and the cicadas were chirping loudly outside. Half-asleep, I shifted in bed, only to be jolted awake by a sharp sting in my finger. Frustrated, I was now wide awake. It had been a terrible day. Earlier in the afternoon, I had gone out to pick up some groceries. Some mischievous kid had left a needle on the seat of a public bike, and I sat on it. To make matters worse, after getting home, Mrs. Bennett criticized me for not even being able to toss a proper coleslaw together. In my haste, I cut my hand while chopping. The cicadas grew louder outside, making sleep impossible. I gave up and headed to the bathroom. As soon as I stepped out of the bedroom, I heard loud moaning from Mrs. Bennett’s room—intense, unmistakable sounds of pleasure. Startled, I froze. Then I saw it—a pair of old men’s shoes in the hallway, mud still clinging to the soles. Mr. Bennett must have returned. Mr. Bennett was usually away for work, leaving Mrs. Bennett home alone. She never let herself go though; in fact, she had a better collection of makeup than I did. Given the situation, it made sense that Mr. Bennett might struggle to stay faithful. Not wanting to intrude, I quickly ducked into the bathroom. Even when I came out, the sounds from Mrs. Bennett’s room had only intensified. Feeling awkward, I hurried back to my room without even grabbing a glass of water. Lying in my darkened room, I couldn’t shake the empty feeling inside me. My mind raced with questions I couldn’t answer. Mr. Bennett and Eric both worked at the same research institute. They usually returned from work together. Why had only Mr. Bennett come home this time? With just my own warmth filling our queen-sized bed, I eventually drifted back to sleep, the cicadas fading into the background. The next morning, I woke up early. Mr. Bennett sometimes left in a hurry, so I wanted to make sure I could make breakfast for him. Despite my difficult relationship with Mrs. Bennett, Mr. Bennett was always kind to me. I was grateful to him—he was the only reason I could manage my strained relationship with his wife. I set the breakfast biscuits and oatmeal on the table, then turned to grab Mrs. Bennett’s oat milk, only to hear her voice from the other room. “Other women are out here being thrifty, but not you! A whole breakfast spread for just one meal? What are you trying to do, show off? You must be one of those country bumpkins who’s never seen luxury before, and now you’re here to feast at our expense!” Her words ignited an instant flame in my chest. I had been abandoned at birth and raised in an orphanage until I was adopted at age ten by the Richardsons, a kind couple from Rural Kentucky. After graduating from college, I moved to Chicago for work and eventually married Eric. After we got married, Eric and Mr. Bennett were frequently away on business. Mrs. Bennett used her “poor health” as an excuse to force me to quit my job and stay home as a full-time housewife. I did as she asked, but her torment never stopped. Whenever Eric was home, things were bearable. But the moment he left for work, Mrs. Bennett would criticize everything I did, accusing me of taking advantage of the family’s wealth. I walked out of the kitchen, slamming the oat milk down on the table. I was about to speak up, but the sight of my wedding ring caught my eye. The anger simmered down. Even if Mrs. Bennett didn’t like me, Eric had always shown me love and care. And just before he left this time, he promised me that in a month, once his current project was over, we would move out and finally have our own place. I took a deep breath and calmly explained, “I didn’t mean to make so much food. I just heard Mr. Bennett come home last night, so I made an extra plate—” I didn’t even finish before Mrs. Bennett shot up from her seat, grabbed the oat milk, and threw it in my face. “You little tramp! Trying to take over this house, aren’t you? You haven’t even given us a grandchild, and you’re already trying to get rid of me! Let me tell you something—if you don’t behave, I’ll make sure Eric kicks you out of this house!” Over the years, Mrs. Bennett’s outbursts had come out of nowhere, but she rarely got physical. For a moment, I stood there, stunned. She sat back down, smugly picking at her breakfast. I gritted my teeth and held back. Just one more month, and Eric and I would be out of here. Getting into a fight with her now wouldn’t help anything. I retreated to the bedroom to change clothes. From behind, I heard her sneer, clearly convinced I wouldn’t dare stand up to her.

By the time I finished changing, Mrs. Bennett had already left. The breakfast table looked like a battlefield. I told myself again and again—just one more month. I cleaned up the mess and went to prepare Eric’s clothes. The weather had been getting colder, and Eric had only taken his seasonal clothes on his last trip. I didn’t want him to catch a cold. After spending all morning busying myself, I had just sat down to lunch when the phone rang. “Did you make lunch yet? Bring it to the Bingo Hall.” Mrs. Bennett didn’t even wait for me to respond before hanging up. She had been treating me like a servant for years, but for Eric’s sake, I still packed up her lunch. I barely ate a bite before rushing over. “You’re so slow! What good are you for, anyway?” Mrs. Bennett grabbed the lunch box and shot me a glare. Mrs. Stewart, sitting nearby, couldn’t help but speak up for me. “Gloria, your daughter-in-law is pretty good! She brings you lunch every day. My daughter-in-law? I’m lucky if I even see her on holidays!” Mrs. Bennett snorted as she stuffed her face. “Please, she’s just some hillbilly from the country, spending my son’s money. And she probably ate her lunch before even bringing mine. What kind of ‘respect’ is that?” I wasn’t even listening to her at that point. My eyes were fixed on the familiar old men’s shoes—the same ones I saw at our house the night before. They were on Mr. George Franklin’s feet, the man sitting beside Mrs. Bennett at the Bingo table. The man Mrs. Bennett had been with last night wasn’t Mr. Bennett at all—it was Mr. Franklin! Mrs. Bennett had been having an affair right in our home! “What are you staring at? Didn’t you hear me talking to you?” Mrs. Bennett threw the lunch box at me, but I could see the guilt in her eyes. She shoved the box into my hands. “Get out of my sight! I can’t stand looking at you!” Stunned, I left in a daze. I couldn’t believe it. Mrs. Bennett, of all people, so strict and old-fashioned, was having an affair! This wasn’t my problem to solve—it was Eric’s mother, after all. And Eric valued family harmony above everything else. If I told him about this, there’s no telling what kind of trouble it would cause. I spent hours lost in thought until the sun had set and my phone rang. It was a video call from Eric. I answered, seeing his handsome but tired face on the screen. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. “Hey, honey. I got the clothes you sent me this morning. I didn’t even notice the weather changing, but you did. You’re always so thoughtful.” I forced a smile, but Eric noticed something was off right away. “Is something wrong? Did Mom say something to you again? You look upset.” His concern made me feel even guiltier. But I lied. “No, everything’s fine. Just focus on your work.” I hadn’t figured out what to do yet, and at that moment, the front door opened. Mrs. Bennett was back. Afraid she might say something that would make Eric suspicious, I quickly ended the call. She seemed to be in a good mood, even humming a tune as she came in. After thinking about it for a while, I decided to speak up. “Mrs. Bennett, Mr. Bennett will be retiring in a few months, and Eric will be back home too. Let’s try to get along and live peacefully as a family.” I meant it as a subtle warning, hoping she’d stop her affair. But her reaction was explosive. She glared at me, hands on her hips. “Live peacefully? Who are you to tell me how to live? You can’t even give us a child, and you’re talking about peace? What a joke!” “And what about you? You’ve been sneaking around, haven’t you? Chatting up men behind my son’s back?” Her words hit me like a slap. How dare she accuse me of being unfaithful when she was the one having an affair? “If I did get pregnant, it wouldn’t be Eric’s! He’s been away for months!” Her face turned white at my words. She shot me a furious look and stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her.

Whether it was my words or the guilt of her affair, Mrs. Bennett stayed quiet for the next month. She left every morning after breakfast and didn’t ask me to bring her lunch anymore. She would return home, lock herself in her room, and we barely saw each other. On my birthday, Eric called to apologize for not being able to make it back. But later that afternoon, a bouquet of flowers arrived from him. The card had a quote from our favorite college poem. It brought a warm feeling to my heart, reminding me of the love we shared. “You little vixen! Eric’s not home, so this must be from one of your lovers!” Mrs. Bennett started in again, but this time I wasn’t fazed. “Mom, these flowers are from Eric. He sent them to me.” She sneered, “Of course, wasting my son’s money on flowers for you!” I didn’t bother to argue. I picked up the flowers, ready to head back to my room when she called out again. “You ungrateful thing! I’m sick, and you don’t even notice! Take me to the hospital!” My heart raced. She had seemed fine just moments ago. “What’s wrong, Mom? Are you okay? I’ll get the car keys!” “No! Gas is too expensive. Just push me in the wheelchair.” She insisted, so I had no choice but to wheel her to the hospital. On the way, she complained of diarrhea and a fever. It sounded like the flu, but I didn’t want to take any chances. Eric would be worried if it turned into something more serious. At the hospital, the doctor listened to her symptoms with a strange expression and ordered a blood test. Hours later, when I saw the results, I was shocked. It was HIV. I froze in place, staring in disbelief while Mrs. Gloria Bennett’s face was etched with panic. “It was you! It had to be you! You hate me, so you must have done something to my food, didn’t you?!” Her face twisted with anger, while onlookers started gathering, whispering to each other. I didn’t want this whole situation to explode in public, especially not her HIV diagnosis. I tried to push her out of the hospital, but she grabbed my arm. “If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me! Now that I’ve got HIV, you’re not getting off easy!” she screamed, trying to bite me. I instinctively yanked my arm away, causing her to stumble and fall to the ground. She glared at me with pure hatred. I had tried to be patient with her all these years, but now she was accusing me of poisoning her? I couldn’t take it anymore. “I swear I’ve never been unfaithful to Eric! Can you say the same for yourself, Mrs. Bennett?” Her face turned ghostly pale, and the murmurs from the crowd grew louder, like daggers piercing through her. “You… you! Everyone, come look! She’s abusing an old woman!” Mrs. Bennett cried, pulling at my arm again. In the struggle, the test results slipped from my hand, caught by the wind, and flew toward the courtyard. A neighbor picked up the paper and glanced at it, her eyes widening. “There’s HIV in our neighborhood!” The entire crowd changed. Faces of disgust and judgment surrounded us. “I knew it! With her husband gone all the time, it’s no wonder something like this happened!” “They’re supposed to be from a respectable family, but look at them now!” “Mrs. Bennett was always talking about how terrible her daughter-in-law was. Could it be the daughter-in-law gave it to her?” I looked at Mrs. Bennett, who was now shrinking under the weight of the gossip. She didn’t say a word, just trembling under the accusing eyes of the neighbors. I let out a cold laugh and walked back to the house. If Mrs. Bennett wanted to claim I mistreated her, I might as well show her how “bad” I could really be. She could clean up her own mess this time. Mrs. Bennett gathered the test results from the ground and followed me home, looking defeated. This was too big to hide from Eric and Mr. Bennett. After all, they were both in the medical field—they’d know what to do better than I ever could. I picked up my phone to call Eric, but before I could dial, Mrs. Bennett collapsed to her knees in front of me.

“Lauren, please, please don’t tell Eric or Mr. Bennett. I don’t want to distract them from their work!” I looked at her coldly. Even now, she was worried about keeping up appearances. Mrs. Bennett was desperate now, slumped on the floor, crying uncontrollably. “If they find out, I’ll have no reason to live! I’m begging you, Lauren, if you make that call, I’ll end it right here!” Before I could respond, she rushed into the kitchen and grabbed a knife, pressing it to her throat. “Fine, fine, I won’t tell them. Tomorrow, I’ll go to the hospital and get the medicine. Just take the meds, okay?” Afraid she might hurt herself, I gave in for now. Mrs. Bennett lowered the knife, tears streaming down her face as she stood, shoulders hunched. The once proud and domineering woman now looked completely defeated. A part of me almost pitied her. The next morning, I woke up early to head to the hospital, but when I opened the door, I was greeted with a nasty surprise—someone had spray-painted bright red words on our front door and wall. “HIV-Infected Scum, Get Out!” Anger surged through me, but what could I do? If I had neighbors like this, even if I wasn’t the target, I’d feel uncomfortable too. I closed the door and hurried to the hospital to pick up Mrs. Bennett’s medication. When I returned, I found Mr. George Franklin, looking frail and miserable, standing at the door with his two children. They were banging on the door, demanding to be let in. Both of Mr. Franklin’s kids were wearing full protective suits, making him look even smaller and more fragile. “Gloria Bennett! If you don’t open this door right now, we’ll break it down!” “Disgusting! Acting like a tramp at your age, not only ruining yourself but dragging our family down too!” “Let me tell you something! If my dad’s sick, it’s because of you! Your family has to take responsibility for him now. We’ll move him in, and you’ll take care of him!” I rushed forward just in time. Mr. Franklin’s daughter turned toward me, glaring. “You must be Gloria Bennett’s daughter-in-law. Open the door, or I’ll make sure the entire neighborhood knows exactly what kind of filthy woman your mother-in-law is!” Despite my own anger, I knew it was Mrs. Bennett’s fault. With a forced apology, I let them into the house. “You had the nerve to seduce my dad, but now you’re hiding like a coward? Gloria Bennett, it’s too late to save face!” “I’m really sorry for everything. If Mr. Franklin is worried about his health, I’ll take him to the hospital to get tested. If anything’s wrong, we’ll take full responsibility.” Just as I was trying to calm things down, Mrs. Bennett stormed out of her room, holding a pair of scissors to her throat. “George Franklin, you better tell the truth! I’ve only ever been with you! If I’m sick, it’s because you gave it to me!” Mr. Franklin’s eyes widened in shock, his frail hand pointing toward Mrs. Bennett, trembling. “You… you…” Before he could finish, Mr. Franklin clutched his chest and collapsed.

I gasped, rushing to call an ambulance. After making sure Mrs. Bennett was safe, I followed the ambulance to the hospital, where Mr. Franklin was rushed into surgery. I spent the entire day without food or water, too exhausted and dizzy to think straight. After hours of waiting, I grabbed a couple of sandwiches to eat. But before I could even take a bite, Mr. Franklin’s daughter showed up at my door again. “Gloria Bennett! You heartless witch! My dad just passed away in the hospital, and you’re going to pay for it!” Mrs. Bennett’s eyes filled with rage as she shouted back, “I got sick because of him! If anything, he should have been paying me! You’re not getting a dime from me!” Fearing the situation would escalate, I opened the door. Mr. Franklin’s daughter stormed in, shouting at me. “Lauren Mitchell! Forget the HIV for now—your mother-in-law killed my father! If you don’t give me fifty thousand dollars by tomorrow, I’ll camp outside your house and shame you all!” I had barely eaten a thing, and now, on top of being screamed at, she pushed me hard enough that nausea overwhelmed me. I collapsed, throwing up on the floor. Her anger faltered for a moment, but she kept sneering, “Oh, are you pretending to be sick? I wouldn’t be surprised if your whole family is infected with HIV! If I don’t have that money by tomorrow morning, I’m showing up at your husband’s workplace!” After finally managing to get her out of the house, I was left feeling both panicked and exhausted. The nausea wouldn’t stop, and Mrs. Bennett, who had been watching, suddenly looked concerned. “You’re not… pregnant, are you?” I froze, then dashed to the bathroom to grab a pregnancy test. Two lines appeared immediately. Eric had been home three months ago, so that meant the baby was three months along. Instead of joy, Mr. Franklin’s daughter’s cruel words rang in my head. What if my whole family had HIV… I couldn’t hold back anymore. I went to my room, locked the door, and sobbed until there were no tears left. The next morning, before dawn, Eric and Mr. Bennett returned home. I had been waiting for this moment, but now, instead of joy, I felt nothing but fear as I broke into tears in Eric’s arms. Eric held me close, stroking my hair. “It’s okay. HIV isn’t as easily transmitted as people think. Even if we do test positive, there are treatments now. We’ll get through this together. As soon as it’s light, I’ll take you to the hospital for tests.” His words gave me a small spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, after all this time living with Mrs. Bennett, I hadn’t caught anything. We didn’t have any direct contact—there was a chance I was still safe. At the hospital, Eric and I went in for testing. While waiting for the results, Mr. Franklin’s daughter called again. “Lauren Mitchell! We had my dad’s body tested—he didn’t have HIV! Your mother-in-law killed him by sheer stress!” I felt the world go black around me, but just then, the nurse called us to collect our results. Eric picked up the report, glanced at it, and then quickly tucked it into his bag. But I didn’t need to look. I already knew. I had HIV.

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At the high-end Ritz-Carlton Hotel, two people were carried out on stretchers, like conjoined twins, unable to part even as they were lifted into the ambulance. And all of it was my doing. I casually called Andy as he was struggling to contain his pain. “Babe, I’m in a meeting right now,” he groaned. I gently reminded him, “Since you two love each other so much, why not stay together forever?” The first sign of trouble came while I was away on a business trip to South Beach, Miami. Andy had posted a photo on his Instagram Stories. His caption read: “Clear skies, gentle breeze, the waters in Hawaii are especially blue today.” While I was working, he was on his dream vacation, spending his days in Hawaii. In the picture, he was with a group of friends and coworkers. The photo looked innocent enough, but something about it stood out to me. He had been wearing the swim trunks I bought him, but in this photo, they were mysteriously replaced with a new pair. After some digging, I noticed another photo he had posted five days prior—this time, a picture of his meal. And in the corner, the edge of a woman’s bikini was visible. It was the same swimwear—held together with a safety pin because it didn’t quite fit. What kind of flirtatious code was this? To confirm my suspicions, I asked Andy about it when he got home. He didn’t stutter or hesitate; he had a story ready. “Babe, I’ve got a funny one for you. Remember those trunks you got me? Well, while I was swimming, I guess I didn’t tie them tight enough, and they got washed away!” He slapped his thigh and laughed like he was telling a joke. He always did that when he wanted to lighten the mood. “I almost flashed the whole beach! Had to run and buy a new pair.” I watched him perform this act, completely detached, on our fifth wedding anniversary—a date he had completely forgotten. I didn’t even bother playing along with his charade. When he realized I wasn’t laughing, he slung his arm around my shoulder. “Cassie, I’ll take better care of the stuff you buy me. Don’t be mad, okay?” He puckered his lips at me, something I used to find cute back when we were dating. But now, staring at Andy’s greasy face, regret flooded me. When he was chasing me, he had been the least attractive of all my suitors, but I’d chosen him because he seemed kind and grounded, with a career as solid as mine. I thought picking someone less conventionally handsome would mean he’d stay loyal and committed. Turns out, a man’s flaws don’t depend on his looks. Later that afternoon, I got called into work for a night shift. I went down to the garage to get the car. Andy and I had our own vehicles, but mine was in for maintenance, so I took his. My instincts kicked in the moment I sat in the driver’s seat. The passenger seat had been reclined, pushed back about 15 degrees more than usual. Someone else had been in our car. We bought this SUV when we were preparing to start a family, thinking it would be perfect for the baby. The air inside still had a faint, fishy odor, hinting at something inappropriate that had happened in that seat. Scanning the seat closely, I noticed a piece of black fabric wedged in the gap by the armrest. I pulled it out—lace, delicate, and suspiciously sexy. I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. How thoughtful of them. I pocketed the evidence without confronting him. A few days later, I found another bikini stuffed in the same spot. This time, though, something was different. The faint smell of perfume lingered on the fabric. I recognized it immediately—it was a summer scent from a designer perfume brand I’d tried while window shopping at the mall. This clue led me to question several suspects—his female coworkers and old friends. Eventually, I realized it was Payne Dalton, his goddaughter, who wore the same scent. When I saw her, she clung to my arm like always, her voice sweet as ever. “Godmother Cassie, did you miss me? I’m job hunting right now. We should grab lunch sometime soon!” I finally noticed how much she’d grown since I first met her. The once-skinny high school girl had blossomed into a tall, curvy woman. I’d heard she’d even had a breast augmentation done earlier this year. The bikini I’d found was exactly her size. Payne was a scholarship student Andy and I had supported for four years, helping her through college. She had always seemed like the perfect student—smart, charming, and determined to make something of herself. Was she really that naive? Despite all her education, did she still believe that money was the only way to “make it” in life?

I smiled as I teased her. “Wow, Payne, you’re looking amazing! The collagen supplements are really doing their job. You’re a real stunner now.” She blushed, playfully pushing my shoulder. “Oh, Godmother Cassie, you’re terrible!” A sly grin flashed across her lips as she responded with pride, “Yeah, those supplements really work! Starlet-worthy, don’t you think?” I nodded. She had the body men fawn over—the kind actresses on TV often flaunt. Compared to her, all my years of Pilates felt like nothing. “Let’s catch up over lunch sometime,” I suggested. “Absolutely!” she chirped, clearly excited. She showered me with compliments about my taste in fashion, admiring my clothes and bags. That’s when I noticed the sparkling Harry Winston ring on her finger and the luxury brands she was sporting. Seems like she’d been doing quite well for herself lately. “Godmother, you’re just getting more elegant with age. I bet Mr. Donovan loves you even more now. That’s the charm of a mature woman!” Payne, the business major, was clearly a master of flattery. Her words were smooth and well-rehearsed. Back home, I calmly threw out everything from Andy’s car and replaced it with fresh items. Coincidentally, Andy came home late, claiming he had to work overtime. When he saw the dinner I had prepared, he hugged me, grinning. “Cassie, you’re amazing. Thank you.” His suit was spotless, and he had masked any suspicious odors with gum and cologne. Honestly, I wanted to snap and ask, “Showered yet? Gotten rid of the stench?” But I held back. Years of working in corporate America had taught me the art of restraint. I smiled and said, “Your package from the office is on the desk.” “Thanks, hon.” Later that night, he tried initiating intimacy. I pretended to be into it but could tell his enthusiasm was lacking. Of course, after sneaking around, there wasn’t much left for me. I told him I was tired and skipped it, scrolling through my phone instead. He leaned in with a grin. “Want to rest your head on my shoulder?” I stayed quiet, thinking to myself: I don’t want to lay my head where another woman’s legs have been. “Oh, by the way,” I said, testing him, “I ran into Payne today. She wants to have lunch with us.” “She’s really grown up, hasn’t she?” Andy froze for a moment but quickly regained composure. “Yeah, I haven’t seen her in a while either.” I closed my eyes. Let’s see how long this act can last. The next day, I took the afternoon off, and Andy and I met Payne at a Texas BBQ Joint for lunch. Payne showed up in a black, low-cut dress, her figure as striking as ever, contrasting sharply with the dark fabric, making her look even more stunning. When we were ordering, Andy casually said, “Waiter, we’ll have the mild and spicy BBQ platter. Light on the spice for her, please.” I caught the shift in his tone as Payne jumped in to explain, “Godmother Cassie, don’t misunderstand! I told Mr. Donovan I’m on my period.” She smiled innocently, but her body language was anything but. Her necklace dipped suggestively between her breasts, the picture of temptation. Andy, finally catching on to my expression, added quickly, “Yeah, Cassie, we shouldn’t go too spicy. Your stomach can’t handle it.” Love or indifference—it’s easy to spot the difference in the little things. That night, I pretended to get drunk. In truth, I poured most of the drinks into the trash. Andy, thinking I was too tipsy to function, draped his jacket over me and escorted me up to a room at the hotel. I lay awake all night, the faint scent of perfume on his jacket reminding me that he didn’t love me anymore. The next morning, I lied about losing something in the car, asking the property manager to pull up the parking garage footage. Sure enough, they had left together that morning. Not only had they defiled my car, but they had taken their affair right into our home. Without the security footage, I might have continued to believe Payne’s sweet demeanor and Andy’s deceitful charm.

I hired a private investigator to dig deeper into Payne’s life. After Andy and I got married, we kept our finances separate. He had no idea how much money I had saved up. Over the years, I’d made a good amount through smart investments—money I originally planned to use for a house in the best school district once we had kids. Now, that seemed unnecessary. A few days later, the investigator reported back: “She’s notorious at Stanford. People say she’s always out with different guys.” No wonder Payne could afford designer perfume and all those luxury items without even having a job yet. “She was kicked out in her junior year for misconduct. Apparently, she tried to seduce the vice principal, but it didn’t work.” “And her grades? She’s barely passing—almost got expelled.” Hearing this broke my heart. I remembered when we first decided to sponsor her. She had been this small, frail girl with yellowed hair, but her eyes shone with determination. She used to tell me that studying hard would change her life. She used to call me “Godmother Cassie” and twirled with joy the first time she wore a new dress I bought her. And now? She’d seen the world and decided that sleeping her way to the top was the faster route. I heard she’s working as a model now, trying to break into Hollywood. No wonder she’s had so much work done. Suddenly, it all clicked. Andy’s connections to the entertainment industry… She was probably using him as her ticket to bigger fish. After all, a girl like her wouldn’t hesitate to drop Andy the moment someone richer came along. Aside from this, the private investigator handed me Andy’s financial records. Our finances were separate, so he had no clue how much I really had. I managed my money through investments and had done pretty well for myself, originally planning to use it for a future home in a private school district once we started a family. But that no longer seemed necessary. The investigator showed me that Andy’s earnings were mostly from his salary and some stock market investments. But it was all clearly outlined in his Instagram transaction history—he had spent close to $100,000 on Payne! How long had they been sneaking around? I asked the investigator for something specific: a small recording device I could install in Andy’s car. He hesitated, reminding me that wiretapping was illegal and wouldn’t hold up in court. I told him I understood. I didn’t need it for legal reasons. I just needed to know how heartless they really were. After a moment, he nodded, handed me the equipment, and I paid him in full. A few days later, I left home for another “business trip.” As expected, they couldn’t resist using our SUV. “Daddy… can I have a hug?” The voice in my earphones was sultry, designed to melt any man’s resistance. “Did you miss me, sweetheart?” Andy chuckled in response. His usual polished, mature tone was nowhere to be found. “I did! You’re so bad.” Then, the unmistakable sound of the seat creaking under pressure. I clenched my fists, a bitter smirk creeping across my lips. These two were beyond shameless. Without hesitation, I called Andy’s phone. He ignored the first few calls. But as I kept calling, the urgency forced him to answer. “Hello? Hey, Cassie… I’m, uh, in a meeting,” he stammered. His voice was trying hard to sound calm and collected, but I heard the zipper of his pants sliding and his heavy, labored breathing. At thirty years old, I wasn’t exactly ancient. I’d taken good care of myself and didn’t look my age. People often remarked on how youthful I seemed. Andy, on the other hand, was an average-looking man whose career was no longer on par with mine. Our friends and family used to joke about our relationship, calling it a “beauty and the beast” situation. But let me tell you, there are plenty of men out there—more than enough to replace him. I laughed to myself and thought, If you love being naked so much, let me help you make that permanent.

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Recently, my daughter has become unpredictable, often shifting between extreme excitement and deep disappointment, all because of something her teacher said. After pressing her about it repeatedly, she finally confessed, telling me, “Mom, you’re a bad mom. I wish my dance teacher were my mom instead.” “If only Mrs. Drake were my mom, Dad would smile more, too.” I frowned, my instincts as a woman screaming inside me. That woman was trying to seduce my husband and was attempting to manipulate my daughter. My name is Lauren Simmons, and I’m 31 years old. I’m married, the only child of a small business owner, and I hold an MBA from a prestigious program abroad. I currently work as the marketing manager for my father’s company. To outsiders, my life seems like a dream: the daughter of a successful businessman, highly educated, married, and a mother. But deep down, I’m full of insecurities, largely shaped by my experience growing up in a single-parent household. I often come across as distant and cold to others. And when it comes to family life, I’ve never been as invested as I am in my career. My husband Brian is attractive and successful, and our daughter Sophia is sweet and well-behaved. But the one imperfection in my otherwise ideal life is that, after giving birth, I immediately dove back into work, missing the critical window for postpartum recovery. As a result, I still have excess skin on my stomach and a noticeable C-section scar, which has always been a source of regret for me. Brian never seemed to mind. He would always wrap his arms around my waist and whisper, “Babe, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world to me.” He had said this to me twice before: once during our wedding vows, and once after the difficult birth of our daughter, when I was bleeding out due to her breech position. I still remember being in the ICU, my eyes blurred with tears and the stench of blood clinging to me. I asked him then, “Do I look awful, honey?” And just like before, he kissed my hand without hesitation, assuring me that I was the most beautiful woman in the world to him. His tenderness and love had sustained the quiet warmth of our marriage, keeping it steady but never too intense. Now, our daughter Sophia is four years old and attending Bluebell Preschool. Brian has embraced his role as both a great dad and a responsible husband. While I’m often busy with work, he works the late shift as a software engineer, so he’s usually the one picking up Sophia after school. One day, I got a notification from a parenting forum on my phone. It said the most important thing for a child’s growth is the parents’ presence. Guilt washed over me. I realized it had been far too long since I spent quality time with Sophia. So that afternoon, I left work early and called Brian. “Honey, I’ll pick up Sophia today. Bluebell Preschool, Middle Group, right? I go in through the east entrance, don’t I?” I had to admit, I hadn’t been doing enough when it came to spending time with Sophia. Brian only picked her up from school because my work hours clashed with hers. But when we got home, I was the one who always cooked dinner. I had even gone out of my way to get a certified nutritionist license, all to make sure I could cook balanced, healthy meals for them. I rarely went to pick Sophia up from school. The only time I’d been there was for a parent-teacher meeting, and I had gotten the time wrong. Brian didn’t pick up his phone, so I stood there for an hour and a half, confused, until I saw the other parents trickling out of the building. Sophia, with her little backpack, spotted me, her eyes widening in surprise. When she came over, I quickly took her backpack and said, “Mommy’s been waiting here for you.” She pouted, “Mom, you’re so silly! Today we had extra dance practice, and you didn’t even know!” I crouched down, full of guilt. Brian hadn’t told me, so I came at her usual pick-up time. That’s when I noticed something on her lips—a little oil from something spicy. It was barely noticeable, but as her mom, I caught it immediately. As a certified nutritionist, I was strict about Sophia not eating junk food. Hot Cheetos and potato chips were off-limits, even though she loved them. I grabbed her little hand and sniffed it. She had washed her hands, but the scent of food additives clung to her skin, even under the soap. My face darkened. “Sophia, did you eat Hot Cheetos?” Seeing that I was upset, her expression deflated, but she stubbornly refused to admit it. “Haven’t I taught you to be an honest little girl? Don’t lie to Mommy, okay?” I tried to stay calm. Kids her age didn’t need harsh punishments, but firm guidance. With my gentle coaxing, Sophia finally spoke up. She said Mrs. Drake had given her the Hot Cheetos, but only to her. Mrs. Drake told her not to mention it to her parents or her friends. “If only Mrs. Drake were my mom, Dad would be happier,” Sophia said with a pout. My brows furrowed as I tightened my grip on her tiny wrist, anger simmering in my voice. “What did you just say? Do you know how much it hurts me to hear you talk like that?” She yanked her hand away, tears welling up in her eyes. She grabbed my water bottle from my hand and threw it on the ground, breaking it. “She buys me fried chicken and Hot Cheetos! She plays with me! You don’t give me anything I want!” I stood frozen, staring at my normally sweet daughter, who was now throwing tantrums and breaking things. I began to realize how much I had failed in my role as a mother. My daughter actually thought another woman would make a better mom. But in her innocent way, she had also told me something shocking: my husband had shown affection for another woman.

And this woman, in order to win my daughter over, had been doing everything she could to charm her. This Melissa Drake, the dance teacher at Bluebell Preschool, had been in Sophia’s class since she was little. I’d seen her once in a class photo and jokingly told Brian, “Look at this teacher. She’s so pretty and youthful, like one of the older kids.” Brian had laughed, “She’s thirty already! But I’ll admit, she’s kept in great shape. Used to be a yoga instructor. Her kid’s around three now, but you wouldn’t know it from looking at her.” I’d had a flash of surprise at how much Brian knew about her, but I shrugged it off. After all, he was the one who picked Sophia up from school. It made sense that he’d hear things. Looking back, it all seemed so obvious now. But growing up in a fractured home had made me cautious and insecure. Without concrete proof, I didn’t want to ruin the peace in our family. Maybe Sophia was just saying things out of anger. Maybe Mrs. Drake had a family of her own. She was, after all, a teacher. I tried to reassure myself, worried that my suspicions were just baseless paranoia. In a few days, there would be the School Talent Show, and Sophia was performing a dance number, led by none other than Mrs. Drake. I decided I would go see her myself, to find out what was really going on. By June, the heat in our small Southern town was already unbearable. I couldn’t bring myself to wear a dress, so I stuck to my usual button-down and cropped pants. My C-section scar and the stretch marks that snaked down my legs still made me incredibly self-conscious. When I arrived at Bluebell Preschool, I saw her immediately—the woman who was smiling so sweetly by the stage. Even without filters or makeup, she looked just as stunning as she had in the photos, embodying the “slim and youthful” beauty standards to perfection. I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by her for a moment. She was gorgeous. If only I hadn’t thrown myself back into work so soon after giving birth, maybe I wouldn’t be so different from her. Melissa Drake was wearing a white crop top and had her hair tied in cute little pigtails. Her slim, curvy figure was even more striking up close. She was crouched by the stage, gently encouraging the children. “All right, sweeties, have you memorized your steps for the performance?” “Yes—ma’am!” they shouted in unison. The most excited of all was my daughter Sophia. Her little pointed fairy ears were perched on her head, and glittering purple eyeshadow made her big eyes sparkle. I stood in the shade, watching her—the one thing in this world I loved more than anything. As for what had happened in the past few days, all I felt was guilt and shame. After a long night of thinking, I decided to adjust my work schedule. I would spend more time with Sophia. I needed to be part of her childhood, not some other woman. Then, Melissa Drake noticed me and walked over with a beaming smile. “Hello there! Are you here to see one of the kids? Why not take a seat in the audience?” Up close, her body looked even more striking, with her tiny waist and a sparkling belly button ring. I forced a smile. “Uh, I’m Sophia’s mom.” The look on her face froze for a split second, and I caught a glint of something sneaky in her eyes. “Her grandma?” she asked sweetly. I frowned. Sure, I hadn’t bounced back after having a baby, but I didn’t look that old. “…No, I’m her mom.” She put on a show of surprise, her voice still syrupy. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I just thought—since some of the other kids’ grandmas look so young too. I guess it’s because Sophia’s dad usually picks her up. I don’t see you very often.” Her comment, laced with passive-aggression, brought me back to reality. I knew why I was here now. Things were starting to make sense. No wonder Sophia liked her. This kind of woman, with her charm and sweet words, could easily win anyone over. Thinking back on what Sophia had said the other day, I couldn’t help but feel disheartened. I took pictures of Sophia’s performance, my camera focusing on her small, happy figure. But out of the corner of my eye, my gaze lingered on Melissa Drake’s smiling face. She was also thirty… but she looked so much better than I did. The way Sophia had gravitated toward her terrified me, and I felt the tears well up in my eyes. If my suspicions were true, my daughter would be so happy to have a beautiful, kind stepmom like her. And Brian would be even happier. So what was I? Just something to be discarded when I was no longer useful?

I spent the next several days in a daze. Something felt wrong, but I didn’t want to confront it directly. Even Brian started noticing my distance and asked, “Honey, what’s wrong? Did I do something to upset you?” I shook my head. He was perfect. Too perfect. There was nothing I could blame him for. But the calmer the surface of a lake, the more you suspect the currents hiding beneath it. Two weeks passed, and I tried to put everything out of my mind. My new project at work had me completely swamped, but I didn’t complain. After all, my boss promised that once I wrapped up this deal, I could finally take some time off. Time I could spend with Sophia. On Tuesday, a rainy day, just before I was about to finish work, I got a call from the preschool’s phone. On the other end, Sophia’s small voice sounded excited. “Mom, you don’t need to pick me up today. I’m going to Emma’s house for a birthday party. Her mom is coming to get us.” “Oh,” I replied, a little caught off guard. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I could’ve helped you pick out a birthday gift. It’s not polite to show up empty-handed.” Sophia’s voice grew proud, “Mrs. Drake already took me shopping. She helped me pick out a crystal music box. It cost over 800 dollars!” Eight hundred dollars? I was stunned. Why was a preschool teacher helping my daughter pick out such an expensive gift for a birthday party? Mrs. Drake again. Whenever Sophia talked about school, she could hardly stop talking about that woman. It was like she’d been bewitched. I had even asked some of the other kids at school, and they all enthusiastically told me that Sophia was Mrs. Drake’s favorite student. “She always praises her. If someone else messes up their dance steps, they have to stand in the corner, but not Sophia. Mrs. Drake is so gentle with her.” But I knew better. Sophia had no particular talent for dancing and was often lazy about practice. All these thoughts were making me uneasy. I softly reminded her to stay safe before she hurriedly hung up the phone. I sat there holding my phone for a long time, my mind racing. I turned to my coworker and asked, “Can you take over and finish this report? I need to leave early for something important.” She hesitated, “Lauren, you’ve been handling this overseas project. Even if I wanted to help, I wouldn’t be able to do it justice. I don’t want to mess things up.” My mind was a tangled mess, but I still didn’t want to neglect my work. I didn’t want to let my boss down. So I stayed until after 8 PM, working frantically to finish the project. Without even stopping for dinner, I rushed out to pick up Sophia. I pulled out her class contact sheet and found Emma’s address at Ridgewood Heights Estate, building 13. I drove straight there. Emma’s house was enormous. The doors were wide open for the birthday party, but strangely, no one was around. The housekeeper told me that Emma and the other kids had gone to Lakeview Park to watch the tide, but my heart skipped a beat. “What about Sophia?” I asked. “She’s the one with the red polka-dot dress and pigtails.” The housekeeper thought for a moment, “Oh yes, I saw her. Mrs. Drake brought her. They didn’t go to the park though—they’re still inside, talking in one of the rooms.” While everyone else was out having fun, Mrs. Drake had kept my daughter inside? What were they doing? A terrible feeling crept over me. Ignoring the housekeeper’s protests, I hurried inside, clutching my purse. I stopped outside the only room with voices coming from inside, furrowing my brow as I strained to hear what was happening.

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I was working at a bar when I saw my girlfriend dirty dancing with my trust fund roommate. In a fit of rage, I went home and inherited a billion-dollar fortune. Later, when my trust fund roommate publicly declared himself the young master of the Landson family, I almost laughed out loud. How come I’d never heard I had a brother? My dad transferred me $200, saying it was what was left after selling this year’s ducks and buying new ducklings. He told me to treat myself to a nice meal. Looking at my dad’s message, tears welled up in my eyes. I transferred the money right back. “Dad, keep the money to buy yourself some new clothes. I’m working three jobs now, I can totally support myself!” Putting away my phone, I wiped the plates with renewed vigor. At 8 PM, I quickly hopped on a shared bike to head to my next job. Though my family was poor, making a living by raising and selling ducks, I was lucky enough to have found a girlfriend who truly loved me. In just three days, it would be our one-year anniversary. I loved Tina with all my heart. When she wasn’t feeling well, I’d buy her lots of supplements. She loved looking pretty, so I’d work extra shifts to buy her new clothes and jewelry. At that moment, I was silently calculating that when this week’s paycheck came, I could buy Tina a necklace and treat her to a fancy dinner. Before I knew it, I had arrived at my last job of the day – Blue Ocean Bar. Manager Zhang cursed at me, “Lucas, why are you so late? Mr. Chad is here tonight, we’re swamped.” I quickly put on my uniform. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of Mr. Chad.” Chad was a well-known trust fund kid in the city and also my college roommate. He had always been a big shot on campus. Because I couldn’t be bothered to flatter him like the other roommates, drinking with him and playing games, Chad had never liked me much. Now he was drinking happily, and at his signal, one of his lackeys shouted, “Tonight’s drinks are on Mr. Chad!” The whole place erupted, the music growing even more upbeat. I carried a tray to Chad’s table, lowering my head to pour him a drink. Unexpectedly, another roommate Leo was there too. He used to always steal my stuff in the dorm, and after a big fight, we had completely fallen out. Seeing me, Leo finally found a chance to mock me. “Well if it isn’t our star student Lucas. You act so high and mighty at school, but here you are working as a bartender behind everyone’s backs?” Almost everyone at the table was in my class. Hearing this, they all looked at me in surprise. I kept my head down, silently doing my job. I was about to leave for the next table when I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. Tina, who always claimed to be feeling unwell, was dancing provocatively in heavy makeup and hot pants, throwing herself into Chad’s arms. I stared in disbelief, the tray falling from my hands. To make sure I wasn’t seeing things, I grabbed the girl’s wrist and pulled her close. It really was Tina.

Tina was also startled to see me, frowning as she told me to let go. Without realizing it, my grip had tightened, turning her face pale. Chad kicked me to the ground and looked down at me with disdain. “Why are you hanging out with this trash?” Tina weakly leaned into Chad’s arms, tears falling. The scene made my blood boil. I punched Chad to the ground, pointing at his nose and cursing. “Have you no shame? This is my girlfriend!” Leo piped up, yelling, “Your family just raises ducks for a living. What made you think anyone would be interested in you? Chad could ruin you and your family with the snap of his fingers!” Manager Zhang had people throw me out of the bar, cursing me as a troublemaker. I wandered the streets in a daze. Memories of my time with Tina floated through my mind, bursting like bubbles at the slightest touch. Maybe Leo was right. How could anyone look at me twice? Just then, my phone rang. It was a message from my dad. “Son, come home for a bit. Dad has something important to tell you!” Since I didn’t need to buy Tina a necklace anymore, I splurged on a taxi home. When I got there, I saw my dad directing workers to move things. Remembering my dad’s serious tone on the phone, I had a bad feeling. “Dad, did something happen to our family?” My dad was too busy to answer me, so I kept pestering him. “Are we short on money and need to sell the house? How much do we need?” I started regretting taking a taxi home and planned to find two more jobs to help support the family. But my dad just laughed. “Son, you know about Landson Corp?” Of course I knew Landson Corp, a mega-rich company with over 10 skyscrapers. I could work my whole life and never come close to their level. “But what does Landson have to do with us? Aren’t we just duck farmers?” My dad smiled. “Duck farming is just one of our poverty alleviation industries. We have 30 other industries too!” My dad held up three fingers. I was still in shock. Just then, a well-dressed man came over and respectfully said to my dad, “Mr. Landson, we’re almost done moving everything.” My dad nodded slightly. “Be careful on the road. These are all the memories my son and I have from over the years.” I was so excited I could barely speak. “Dad, what did he just call you?” At that moment, my phone buzzed. I looked at the message: “Bank transfer received: $1,000,000.” My dad patted my shoulder. “Your dad is Mr. Landson. Son, all of this was a test for you. Now that I’ve seen you’re willing to work three jobs instead of asking your family for money, I know you’ve passed the test.”

The butler helped me move into a villa in the east side of town. It was decorated lavishly – I still wasn’t used to the change in status. “Young master, please let me know if you need anything.” I looked at the stern-faced man and tentatively asked, “Can you help me recover the chat history on my computer?” “Of course, young master.” Tina always deleted all traces after using my computer. Once when she logged into her SnapChat on my computer while I was looking something up, she got angry and told me not to touch it. I was certain she was hiding something from me on her SnapChat. The butler truly was capable of anything. He quickly recovered the chat history for me. Looking at the screen full of flirtatious messages between Tina and Chad, my hands trembled slightly. It turned out that while I was staying up late revising her papers, she was out on dates with Chad watching movies. When I was working three jobs a day to buy her a gift, she was doing unspeakable things in Chad’s car. When I was worried sick because I couldn’t reach her on the phone, she was drinking all night with Chad at bars. Even when Tina got angry saying I was disturbing her studying, she was asking Chad why he wasn’t coming to see her, if he had found a new girl. Tina wouldn’t even kiss me, saying she wanted to save it for our wedding day. But she was doing the complete opposite with Chad, their chats incredibly explicit. The bags I saved up to buy her, she used as trash bags for Chad to throw up in when he was drunk. Since she cherished them so little, we might as well settle the score. I gathered all the records of money I spent on Tina, transfers I made, gifts I bought over the years, along with these explicit chats, and made them into a PowerPoint presentation. I sent it to Tina and Chad’s shared thesis advisor. Professor Liu was known for being strict and upright. I didn’t need to do anything more.

The next day back at the dorm, Leo saw I hadn’t come back all night and started mocking me. “Weren’t you all tough yesterday, punching people? How come you didn’t even dare come back to the dorm last night?” I asked, “Where’s Chad?” Leo’s face twisted into a lewd grin. “Of course he’s spending the night with your precious Tina!” I kept my expression neutral. “Oh, I guess rats from the gutter and cheating dogs really are a perfect match. “And stop calling her ‘my Tina’. We’re not together anymore.” Just then, Chad stormed in looking furious. He grabbed my collar. “Did you do this?” I calmly gripped the hand holding my collar. A cracking sound came from his joints. I may not have had much, but working all those jobs had made me strong. Chad was no match for me. He let go in pain. I whispered in his ear, “If you don’t start showing me some respect, I don’t mind sending this PowerPoint to the whole internet.” Coming out of the dorm, the sun was shining and a gentle breeze lifted my mood. My phone rang. It was Tina, crying. “Lucas, why did you do this? Don’t you care about our relationship at all?” I scoffed. “If you had any conscience at all, you wouldn’t be able to say that.” “Can’t you help me explain to Professor Liu that it was just a joke? Otherwise I’ll really be in trouble! “Aren’t you afraid I’ll never forgive you, that you’ll never get me back?” I simply hung up. She was still trying to threaten me, really thought I was a good backup plan. I had been busy lately learning about the company’s business, running around all day. Tina and Chad couldn’t find me anywhere. Later I heard from classmates that they both lost their grad school offers. That PowerPoint was still in my hands. Chad didn’t dare retaliate against me, he could only grit his teeth and bear it.

We were now in our senior year. After losing their grad school offers, Chad and Tina were planning to start job hunting. I now had a basic understanding of Landson Corp’s operations. My dad wanted me to intern at Landson, but to observe me in the role of an intern. Landson had always promoted based on merit, so the intern identity was what I needed. Starting from the bottom and working my way up was undoubtedly the fastest way to gain experience. Before I left, my dad called out to me, “Oh right, there’s a scholarship student I’ve been supporting who’s also coming to intern at the company. I think he’s in your major at your school.” My dad scratched his head, thinking hard for a while. “I remember he was quite a humble kid. What was his name again? Oh right, Chad.” I couldn’t help but chuckle when I heard this. “I do know him, but he’s not very humble at all.” Chad had always bragged about being a trust fund kid and a prince of the city’s elite. After returning to Landson, I had learned about the famous families in A City, but I hadn’t come across any surnamed Chen. I had always been curious which family Chad was from, but before I could ask my butler to look into it, it turned out a surprise was waiting for me here. I just hadn’t expected Chad himself to be a scholarship student. Instead of cherishing this hard-earned opportunity, he used the money my dad gave him to party, looking down on poor students like me back then, never even glancing at us. Since he wanted to come to Landson, let him come. After all, my dad had supported him financially. I might as well evaluate the results for my dad personally. At a class meeting to discuss everyone’s job plans, Chad and Tina were cuddling in their seats, completely disregarding that they were on campus. Seeing me arrive, Leo the bootlicker spoke up first: “Lucas, after what you did to Chad, you have the nerve to show your face?” “Oh? How did I hurt him? Do tell.” Leo’s voice had been incredibly loud, quickly drawing the attention of our classmates. Chad’s face darkened as he scolded Leo to shut up. I asked Leo back, “If Chad is so great, he could go study abroad if he didn’t get into grad school, why isn’t he going?” Leo stammered, unable to answer. Chad lazily spoke up, “My dad is in a hurry for me to take over Landson, so I can only cut my playtime short by a couple years.” With those words, the whole class erupted in whispers. “I knew Chad was rich, but I didn’t realize he was this rich. That’s Landson Corp we’re talking about.” “I heard from my cousin’s sister’s friend that Mrs. Landson’s surname is Chen. His dad must really love his wife to let him take her surname.” “Wow, it’s like a novel come to life. I’m totally shipping this.” “Lucas is such a clown. He has the nerve to mock others when he doesn’t even know what he’ll do after graduation.” “Don’t worry about that. I heard his family raises ducks. He always smells like ducks, he can just go back and inherit his dad’s duck farm.” Chad had clearly heard these comments too. He pulled Tina closer, looking at me provocatively. Just yesterday I had my butler deliberately leak false information to Chad that Landson had no heir. Now he already dared to openly claim this title. He really wasn’t afraid of death. I tuned out the mocking voices and reported my intention to intern at Landson to the class president. I left under the scrutinizing gazes of my classmates.

On the first day of the internship, Chad still couldn’t change his bad habits. He arrived late with Tina in tow, both bowing and scraping as the manager berated them for a long time. After the manager left, Tina glared daggers at his back and asked Chad, “Why don’t you have any face at your own family’s company?” Chad explained, “You just don’t understand. My dad arranged for me to learn from the bottom up. If I don’t keep it secret from them, how can the work go on? “Look at you, the future Mrs. Landson without an ounce of grace.” Tina playfully hit his chest, calling him naughty. But her smile froze when she saw me. “Lucas, you really did get into Landson.” I ignored them, taking my coffee back to my desk to continue organizing documents. Chad quickly caught on, whispering to Tina, “This guy only knows how to study. Landson probably just barely hired him after seeing his resume. A bookworm like him won’t last long.” The reality was quite the opposite. This bookworm received plenty of praise from the manager for outstanding work. As for Chad and Tina, they still couldn’t get the hang of things after countless explanations, getting yelled at daily. After one such scolding, Tina angrily threw a project book onto my desk, still using her old commanding tone: “Lucas, do this for me.” I couldn’t be bothered to look up at her, I still had a lot of work to finish. Seeing no reaction from me, Tina snatched the pen from my hand and demanded, “Lucas, what do you mean by this? How can you just ignore me? You weren’t like this before.” “How else should I treat you? Who are you to me?” Tina bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes. She clearly wasn’t planning to give up. I took the project book and flipped through it briefly, feigning confusion as I asked, “Isn’t this all basic stuff? Didn’t Chad teach you? He is the young master of the Landson family after all. Surely he wouldn’t let his girlfriend stoop to begging me, a nobody.” I said this while staring straight at Chad. As expected, he angrily pulled Tina away. I don’t know what they schemed together, but when they came back, Tina had regained her haughty attitude, even giving a cold snort as she passed by me. A few days later, rumors spread through my project department that Chad was the Landson heir. He must have been desperate, resorting to his old tricks in the company. These rumors were exaggerated beyond belief. Even the manager dared not yell at Chad much lately. Chad humbly stated to the department that he was here to learn, and asked everyone not to leak the news of him being the heir. People around him gradually began to flatter him. You could see they really wanted to build a connection. “Young Master Chen, when you inherit the group, don’t forget about us old colleagues.” Chad agreed to everything, then began to mock me indirectly. “But we should still rely on Lucas. He’s always been a top student at school, even I couldn’t get close to him. Someone like that is bound to rise quickly in the company. I just don’t know if he’ll still look at us by then.” Those people were all shrewd. They quickly understood Chad’s meaning and joined in ridiculing me for being arrogant. But while Chad was gaining a reputation by relying on a non-existent identity, I was memorizing the company’s current internal branches and business models one by one. On the day of the project presentation, Chad volunteered to go on stage first to show his PowerPoint. As soon as I saw that PowerPoint, I laughed. So this is what he was waiting for.

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My mom has always been a big spender, and over the years, our family hasn’t saved a penny because of her extravagance. Whenever my dad asks about the money, my mom always says she spent it on me. When my grandma needed money for medical treatment, my dad yelled at me for being a spendthrift. I promptly pulled out the receipts of my mom’s expenses over the years. Ha! Did they think I’d be their scapegoat forever? When I was little, my mom would take me to the park and only buy me a bottle of water. But when we got home, she’d tell my dad we spent over $30 on food and entertainment. She’d enroll me in the cheapest English tutoring classes, costing about $4 per session. But she’d tell my dad each class cost $40. She’d buy me clothes from street vendors selling knockoffs, but tell my dad each piece cost hundreds of dollars. She’d even claim I threw tantrums, refusing to leave the store unless she bought them for me. In high school, while other kids got $30 a week for allowance, I only got $3. In everyone’s eyes, I was the one spending money recklessly, never considering my parents’ feelings. All of my father’s hard-earned money was supposedly spent on me. I was labeled a “wastrel.” During the New Year’s pig slaughter at my cousin’s house in the countryside, my mom was chatting happily with a distant niece-in-law. “Auntie, how do you stay so young? Your skin is so fair and smooth, I can’t believe you’re in your forties!” The niece-in-law even touched my mom’s face with her finger. “Oh, it’s just my natural good skin,” my mom said, clearly pleased and unable to hide her happiness. But her smile seemed a bit stiff. She loved having strangers guess her age, compliment her youthfulness, and then proudly claim it was all natural. This might fool older people, but young people could easily spot the obvious signs of cosmetic procedures. “Auntie, your clothes must be expensive! They look high-end,” the niece-in-law said, feeling the fabric. “The material is so nice!” My mom casually took the niece-in-law’s hand and said, “Oh, these are just from street vendors, not worth much. Only about $10. I don’t have any expensive clothes.” “You know, Amy needs money for many things. I can’t be extravagant. I still need to save up for her dowry in the future.” Lies! Her clothes were never less than $150. I felt both hurt and disgusted. She had been manipulating me since I was little, easily controlling me. Many times, she would criticize me in front of others. I didn’t even dare to confront her, feeling like I was a burden who spent too much money. Hearing my dad’s sighs, I didn’t want to cause conflict between them. But the truth was, my mom spent money like water on high-end cosmetics, brand-name clothes, beauty salons, and outings with her girlfriends. “How much did this cost?” Every time I asked about the price of something she bought, my mom would scold me. “Have you earned a single cent? What right do you have to question me?” If I tried to tell the truth, she’d say, “I’ve raised you for nothing, you ungrateful brat! Do you want your dad to hit me? Do you want your dad to divorce me?” So, for the sake of family harmony, I never exposed her. I just quietly played the role of the scapegoat. Coming back to reality, I heard the niece-in-law continue, “Wow! That cheap? Where did you buy it?” The niece-in-law widened her eyes in disbelief and reached out to touch the clothes again. My mom smiled silently, trying to brush it off. “Auntie, if you like it, I’ll ask my mom to get you one too,” I chimed in. “Oh, that would be great!” The niece-in-law looked at my mom expectantly. My mom laughed awkwardly, wanting to refuse but unable to find a good reason. She could only say, “There was only one left when I bought it. I’ll see if they have any more. If they do, I’ll get you one.” My mom glared at me discreetly, annoyed at my presumption. Of course, there wouldn’t be any left to sell! She wouldn’t spend money on such expensive clothes for others. My mom chatted and laughed with the niece-in-law, but she kept glancing at my dad to gauge his reaction. On the way home, she scolded me, “In the future, when adults are talking, you children shouldn’t interrupt.” I did it on purpose. My mom always liked to use me as a shield. In the eyes of relatives and my dad, she always maintained an image of frugality. Relatives often looked at me with disdain and gossiped behind my back. Because my mom frequently cried poor in front of them, saying all the family’s money was spent on me. The 80-year-old lady downstairs would smile kindly at me, then turn and say to others, “That child really knows how to spend money! Doesn’t care about her parents at all.” From childhood to adulthood, I always had the worst food, clothes, and belongings, yet I still received so many dirty looks for no reason. After I started college, I overheard classmates mocking me behind my back. “Her? She’s fake and cares too much about appearances. Haven’t you noticed? All her clothes are knockoffs. It’s hilarious! If you can’t afford it, why bother wearing it?” A few days later, my mom brought home an Anly brand shirt. “I bought you a shirt. It’s very expensive,” my mom said with a smile, her eyes holding an indecipherable meaning. I don’t know why, but something felt off. My mom had never been this generous to me before. Although I had never worn such high-end clothes, I knew this shirt cost over $150. She often said to me, “Your time to wear nice clothes will come later. Unlike me, I’m already half in the grave. If I don’t wear them now, I’ll be too old.” Whenever my mom said this, I felt sad and couldn’t bring myself to say anything more. Coincidentally, one day on my way home, I ran into my Aunt Sarah. She was stunned when she saw me, examining the clothes I was wearing. “Where did you get these clothes?” Aunt Sarah’s eyes showed a hint of horror. “My mom just bought them for me,” I replied, sensing something was amiss. “What’s wrong, Aunt Sarah?” “Take them off quickly, don’t wear them. It’s bad luck!” Aunt Sarah reached out and took off the jacket, then threw it in the trash. At first, she was reluctant to tell me, afraid of causing trouble with my mom. But after I pestered her, she finally revealed the truth. She and my mom had gone to visit a distant relative who had just lost her daughter. The girl was about my age and had just started college when she was involved in a fatal traffic accident. The young life was cruelly taken away by fate. The girl’s newly bought clothes had never been worn. My mom had taken them, saying she would keep them as a memento. But then my mom turned around and gave them to me. For the past couple of days, I had been thinking I had misjudged her, that she was finally willing to spend money on me, that I had grown up and she knew to dress me up. From childhood, I had never worn clothes or shoes that fit properly. They were always two sizes too big. The colors were never bright, and I looked both ridiculous and pitiful wearing them. They would be worn out before they ever fit me properly. There’s an old photo at home from when I was about eight or nine years old. I’m wearing a huge shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The shoulders couldn’t support the shoulder pads, which sagged down on both sides of my arms. I looked comical standing next to my mom. While she only cared about her own elegance, I looked out of place and even unsightly next to her. I cried all the way home, my eyes red when I arrived. My dad was off work and at home. He and my mom were sitting on the couch, chatting and laughing. Seeing me come in, my mom smiled and said to my dad, “You know, I saw the neighbor’s kid working part-time at the supermarket yesterday! Earning his own allowance every month, unlike Amy who only knows how to ask for money…” Before my mom could finish, I exploded and shouted at her, “Yeah, I’m the only one who doesn’t know better, the only one who doesn’t understand, so you give me a dead person’s clothes to wear.” “Are you even my real mother? Why would you do this to me? I’ve had enough!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, completely unlike my usual quiet self. My dad was stunned to see me like this and quickly came over to comfort me. “What’s wrong, Amy? Let’s talk about this calmly. What happened?” My mom also said, “Child, if you have something to say, just say it. Why are you shouting? Have some respect!” I shook off my mom’s hand and sat down on the couch with my dad. I explained everything that had happened. “Your Aunt Sarah shouldn’t have told you everything. What are kids afraid of? The clothes were new,” my mom said dismissively. “You be quiet. Look how upset our daughter is,” my dad said, clearly not understanding her behavior either. “Fine, I’m the bad guy. I’m the worst person ever. Is that what you want to hear? It’s just a piece of clothing! What’s the big deal?” My mom rolled her eyes, not bothering to argue further. She seemed indifferent to my crying, thinking I was making a fuss over nothing. “You’re really heartless,” my dad said, angry now. He knew I was timid, and he couldn’t believe my mom would do something so incomprehensible. He quickly took out $150 from his pocket. I knew this was his entire month’s pocket money. “Here! Dad’s giving you $150. Buy whatever clothes you want,” my dad said, stuffing the money into my hand. Seeing my dad take my side, I felt somewhat comforted. My emotions still hadn’t fully subsided, and I shouted, “I don’t want it! I don’t want it! I’ll work part-time at the supermarket and earn my own money to buy clothes!” “What part-time job? You’re still young. Your job right now is to study well. Our family doesn’t need you to go out and earn money,” my dad said. “Why don’t you give me the money? I’ll buy clothes for her. Kids don’t know how to bargain. She might get ripped off,” my mom said, eyeing the money in my hand. “Go to the mall to buy. The prices are clearly marked there,” my dad glared at my mom, telling her to be quiet. “You’ve spoiled the child,” my mom rolled her eyes and stopped paying attention. She wanted to get the money from me, then buy me some $10 clothes from street vendors, probably with some big fake logo on them. I immediately stuffed the money into my pocket to prevent her from getting any ideas. Seeing that I was still crying, my dad had to beg my mom to apologize to me. “I’m sorry, okay? Is that good enough? Why are you making such a big deal out of this? I was only thinking of your best interests…” My mom’s tone was reluctant. This wasn’t an apology at all. She was clearly still mocking me, blaming me for not understanding. I turned and went into my bedroom, not wanting to hear her speak anymore. I avoided her for days, not even making eye contact. I was truly heartbroken. Uncle Jack needed $7,000 to buy a house and wanted my dad to help out. My dad came home and told my mom, but she refused to lend the money. She lied to my dad, saying that withdrawing the money from the fixed deposit would result in a loss of several thousand dollars in interest. The atmosphere at home was tense. I moved around quietly, trying not to attract my mom’s attention or talk to her. I had just gotten home when I heard my dad pleading, “It’s not like we won’t get it back, right? Can you give me that $4,000 I gave you a couple of weeks ago? Buying a house is a big deal for them, and I can’t refuse my brother when he’s asking for help.” “A couple of weeks ago? That was half a month ago. Amy has already used it all,” my mom replied impatiently.

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My husband was rushed to the emergency room in an ambulance in the middle of the night due to a penile fracture. When I asked him about it, he said he was imitating a male lead from a Korean drama out of curiosity, practicing some stretches, and accidentally got injured. I sneered. He had always only watched the news broadcast. Since when did he start watching Korean dramas? In late August, my husband Harry, who was on a business trip, was rushed to the emergency room by ambulance due to intense physical activity – a muscle strain in his inner thigh. I wasn’t home that night as I was visiting my parents, and our baby was at a mother-and-child care center. When I turned off the “Do Not Disturb” mode on my phone early the next morning, I saw over thirty missed calls from Harry and Dr. Kim. Dr. Kim, an old classmate of mine who happened to be on duty that night, told me: “Lily, what’s going on with your husband? At his age, he shouldn’t be having herniated discs, let alone exerting himself so much. In his condition…” I understood her unspoken implication. Anger immediately flared up inside me. I called Harry and demanded to know if he had been fooling around with other women. “Lily, what are you talking about? I’m in such a terrible state, and instead of showing concern for your husband, you’re accusing me…” He sounded quite upset, but it wasn’t enough to dispel my suspicions. “I was trying to get in shape for you. I suddenly remembered an exercise scene from that Korean drama and got carried away.” He even sounded a bit wronged. I could only wonder what kind of irresistibly charming woman could make a middle-aged man push himself to the point of muscle strain. Harry and I weren’t high school sweethearts who went from uniforms to wedding gowns. There wasn’t much excitement before or after our marriage; we fell into the pattern of an old married couple right after tying the knot. Back then, I was focused solely on my studies and missed out on many romantic opportunities. It wasn’t until I was older that I agreed to an arranged marriage under my parents’ urging, thinking the conditions were suitable. However, after giving birth, my entire mindset changed. Perhaps due to a lack of confidence in my postpartum body, I became increasingly concerned about his activities outside the home. To maintain my figure, I didn’t breastfeed. Not wanting the baby to drink formula, I hired a full-time wet nurse and nanny. “It hurts… Nurse, when is my wife coming?” A man’s groans could be heard from the hospital room as I pushed open the door. Harry was lying on the hospital bed, his face pale and his lips colorless. There was no air conditioning in the temporary ward, and a thin layer of cold sweat had formed on his forehead. He looked quite pitiful. However, thinking about the possibility that he had spent a passionate night with another woman, any sympathy I might have felt vanished. “Honey, I didn’t bring any money. Can you pay the hospital fees for me?” Harry asked pitifully. I glanced at him coldly without responding, lowered the curtain, and went to find the attending physician. Seeing me arrive, Dr. Kim mysteriously pulled me aside and told me that the muscle strain was just a cover story to avoid embarrassing my husband. I raised an eyebrow. “Is there something more serious?” “Acute penile fracture. It means… that part is broken. If he doesn’t take proper care and continues to be so sexually active, it might affect your plans for a second child,” she said with a troubled expression. A second child? I smiled mirthlessly. “Who’s having a second child with him? Let him have kids with a dog for all I care.” After hearing my response, Dr. Kim finally realized that Harry must have been fooling around, either with a prostitute or having an affair. A man who doesn’t respect himself is like rotten vegetables. Just then, Dr. Kim suddenly slapped her thigh in surprise: “Now that you mention it, I remember! That night, the ambulance actually brought in two people.” She secretly told me that the woman was likely brought in with Harry. Her symptom was a ruptured corpus luteum, also due to excessive physical activity. I clenched my fists, almost laughing through gritted teeth at the same time— His penile fracture, her ruptured corpus luteum. What a perfect match they made. “Where is she?” Dr. Kim nodded towards the next room. “She’s in that room. They came in together yesterday. Just by her appearance, you could tell she’s no good.” I slowly walked towards that hospital room, lifting the curtain with a nervous heart, only to suddenly discover— The bed behind the curtain was already empty. Just as I was puzzled, my phone rang. It was Rachel, the nanny, calling, accompanied by the sound of a baby crying. “Lily, I’ve picked up Joy from the care center, but she’s throwing up her milk again. What should I do?” I was in a foul mood and snapped at her impatiently: “Can’t you handle even this small task? Didn’t I tell you to learn the patting technique from that tutorial? What’s the point of paying you if you won’t learn anything?” She timidly replied, “I understand, Lily. I’ll pat the baby’s back some more.” Rachel wasn’t a professional childcare worker. Given our family’s financial situation, we shouldn’t have needed to hire such an inexperienced and uncertified nanny. The day we went to the agency, it was Harry who saw her standing there shyly all day, just hoping for a cleaning job. He felt sorry for her struggling alone in the big city and suggested we hire her. Rachel wasn’t particularly thin. Her slightly childish round face was quite pleasing to look at – the type that would be stunning with makeup but looked innocent and pure without it. She said she was nineteen, from a rural background, with a vocational school diploma in nursing. “Do you have any special skills?” I frowned, clearly reluctant. “I… I’m currently lactating. For one salary, I can do two jobs – wet nurse and nanny. I have a health certificate,” she said shyly, brushing aside the hair falling over her chest. Only then did I notice her slightly bulging top, which even had some damp patches. I couldn’t help but be surprised. She had a child at such a young age? Rachel explained in a low voice that she was young and naive when she got a job at an electronics factory and started dating a guy there. He got her pregnant and then ran off. After she gave birth, the man’s family took the baby away. Her own family refused to take her back, so she came to the city alone to find work. I felt a twinge of sympathy. It worked out well for me since I didn’t want to breastfeed. Getting a young, healthy wet nurse and nanny for the price of one seemed like a good deal. So I nodded and hired her, preparing a small bedroom for her to live in. Harry needed to stay in the hospital for another week. When I got home, Rachel, noticing I hadn’t eaten dinner, quickly went to make me some lotus root powder drink. “Where have you been? You look exhausted,” I couldn’t help but ask, noticing her usually neat hair was a bit messy. “Lily, where could I go? I’ve been at home taking care of the baby,” she replied with a surprised expression, her pale lips slightly chapped. “Drink more water. You spend a lot of time caring for the child, but don’t let your own health suffer,” I said, taking the lotus root powder drink she handed me. As I did, I inadvertently noticed some hickeys on her neck and questioned her: “I thought you weren’t dating anyone? What’s this about?” “It’s just a mosquito bite. I’ll go put some ointment on it,” she quickly covered her neck, her voice as soft as a mosquito’s hum. Since our first meeting, Rachel had always been timid and cautious, rarely speaking much and following rules strictly. She never ate the fruit left on the table by the owners and didn’t join us at the dining table, instead taking her portion to eat in her small room. For a moment, I suspected that Harry’s affair might be with her. The enemy within is hard to guard against, after all. But she was standing right in front of me. How could that be? Harry was in a hotel in the neighboring city when this happened, and that woman was diagnosed with a ruptured corpus luteum at the hospital today, which should be quite painful. But if she hurried from the hospital to home, it might be possible to make it without a gap in time. Was that why she seemed nervous and rushed to bring the baby home to feed, causing the baby to throw up from overfeeding? After giving birth, I became quite emotionally volatile, to the point where Harry often said I was paranoid. Thinking about all this, after enduring for a few days until Harry was discharged, I stubbornly confronted him. “Tell me the truth, were you really having an affair that day? Who were you with that night?” He looked bewildered and insisted that he really was imitating the male lead’s stretching and weightlifting exercises from a Korean drama. “Don’t you usually only watch sports and the news? You even said the Korean dramas I watch are soap operas and a waste of time.” Harry sighed, rubbed my head affectionately, and said: “Since you’re asking, I’ll be honest. I was trying to understand your interests. Ever since you finished your postpartum confinement, you’ve seemed distracted. I thought if I watched some of the shows you like, we might have more to talk about.” He showed me his video viewing history. “Isn’t Lee Min-ho your favorite? That’s whose drama I was watching.” I twitched the corner of my mouth, momentarily at a loss for words to refute him. Because everything sounded so normal and reasonable. “Then… the woman who was admitted to the hospital with you that day…” Harry interrupted me, “She was just picked up by the ambulance on the way. She had abdominal pain from sitting on the toilet too long and found out it was a ruptured corpus luteum. I don’t know her.” I stared at him blankly. Later, I asked Dr. Kim who that woman was, but she told me they weren’t in the same department and she didn’t have access to the patient’s information. The day Harry was discharged, Rachel prepared a big meal for us. After cooking, she obediently retreated to her room. I was about to start eating when Harry stopped her and actually invited her to sit down and join us. My face immediately turned cold, and I dropped my chopsticks onto my bowl with a clatter. She looked a bit awkward, glancing at me. “It’s okay, Harry. I’ll just eat the leftovers from lunch. There’s still plenty.” “When have I ever made you eat leftovers? Since Harry invited you, sit down and eat with us,” I said coldly. I barely ate a bite during that dinner. Before bed, Rachel brought us hot milk. Suddenly, on a whim, I wondered if she might treat us differently. I took Harry’s cup, intending to drink from it. But I unexpectedly smelled a strange milky odor, unlike regular milk. She clearly panicked a bit. “Lily, don’t you have germaphobia? That’s Harry’s cup…” “I know. We’re married, what’s wrong with me taking a sip from his cup?” I immediately retorted. She lowered her head and didn’t dare say anything more. I took a sip and only tasted a faint fishy flavor. It wasn’t sweet either. I said in surprise that the milk must have gone bad. Harry didn’t seem to notice anything unusual. “You’re making a fuss over nothing. It tastes normal to me. I’ve been drinking it for a long time.” Then, to my astonishment, he grabbed the cup of milk and drank it all in one go. I drank my cup half-believing, half-doubting, and it tasted like normal milk. “I’m sorry, Lily. Maybe that cup was from the carton that’s been open for a while. Your cup is from a newly opened carton,” Rachel explained in a soft voice. Back in the bedroom, our three-month-old daughter was sleeping soundly in her crib. Harry went to sleep later than me. As I was drifting off to sleep, I suddenly heard the heavy sound of a door being pushed open. Startled awake, I saw the intruder and angrily shouted, “What are you doing coming in here in the middle of the night? Don’t you know how to knock first?” She looked a bit surprised, a hint of grievance flashing across her features: “Lily, it’s time to feed the baby.” The baby in the crib started crying loudly, frightened by my outburst. Right, this was the routine nightly feeding, wasn’t it? I felt a bit disoriented and patted my head. To my surprise, the next moment, Rachel crouched down and directly lifted her shirt, preparing to breastfeed the child. Harry consciously turned away to scroll through his phone, not glancing in this direction at all. “There, there, baby. Don’t suck too hard,” she said softly, her voice as delicate as it could be. Coming to my senses, I urged her to go feed in the living room, not in the bedroom. She responded with a soft “Mm,” but because of her squatting position while holding the baby, she struggled to stand up. She tried for a while without success, beads of sweat forming on her forehead from the effort. Drawing on years of married life experience, I glanced over and sensitively noticed something off about my husband. “Honey, what’s wrong?” He casually let his phone drop to his lap as he stood up, his expression evasive as he coughed lightly and said: “I’m going out to watch some soccer. Messi should be playing soon.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294797”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #惊悚Thriller #重生Reborn #魔幻Magic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance #擦边Steamy