Category: English

My wife Bruna, whom I’d loved for ten years, died in a car accident. I completely ignored the barrage of phone calls. Instead, I went to a bar with my childhood friend Gina to drink and party. I didn’t even attend Bruna’s funeral. The day after the burial, I came home with Gina in my arms. As soon as I walked through the door, I saw my furious mother-in-law, Carol. “You bastard! How dare you show your face! Get out! You’re not welcome here!” I remained unmoved and calmly lit a cigarette. “I think you’ve got it wrong. If anyone should leave, it’s you.” “The house—I paid for it in full. I paid for the renovation too. It has nothing to do with Bruna.” I flicked the ash from my cigarette and pulled Gina down to sit beside me. “Bullshit! How does it have nothing to do with her? You’ve been married to Bruna for so many years—this house is marital property! Bruna’s name is on the deed!” “The law says that whoever paid for the house before marriage owns it. What you’re saying is outdated.” I stubbed out my cigarette, about to call building management to throw them out. Actually, Bruna had paid for half the house, but she never told Carol. Given the current situation, I didn’t want to mention it. Carol’s anger didn’t subside. She slapped my phone out of my hand. “So that’s how it is! Bruna’s body is barely cold, and you’ve already brought your mistress home. Now you want to kick us out? No way!” “I won’t give up this house no matter what. Consider it compensation for us!” Carol ranted, trying to push me out the door. During the struggle, Carol fell to the ground. She simply sat there and started making a scene. “Donald, you bastard! Your wife is dead, and now you’re bullying her family!” “Bruna, are you watching from heaven? This is the man you loved for ten years—a complete scumbag!” My father-in-law Anderson spoke up then. His tone was relatively calm. “Donald, Carol and I have nowhere to stay in the city. Can you bear to see two old people homeless on the streets? You have a high salary—you can buy another house later.” “Do I look like an idiot?” I asked back. Before they could respond, I continued, “Besides, over all these years, I’ve given you plenty of money. That’s enough for you to rent a place.” “Who would rent to old people? You’re deliberately making things difficult for us! Cough, cough…” As Anderson spoke, he began coughing uncontrollably, a trace of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth. When Carol saw this, she immediately stood up from the floor. She pointed at my nose and cursed, “You bastard! You won’t be satisfied until you make us cough up blood, will you!” “If you’re going to die, die outside. Don’t dirty my floor.” I took out a handkerchief and methodically wiped my hands, not missing even the spaces between my fingers. “Donald, how can you talk like that?” Bruna’s brother Maurice rushed over and grabbed my collar. I tilted my head, avoiding his punch. “You’re asking for it!” Maurice was furious, ready to throw another punch. But this time I didn’t give him the chance. I used his own force against him, pulling and tugging. Maurice’s clenched fist slammed directly into the heavy iron door, making him howl in pain. “This is my home. Please leave immediately, or I’m calling the police.” I held up the phone Gina handed me and waved it. The number on the screen was clearly visible. A flash of panic crossed all three of their faces at once.

I naturally didn’t miss this moment, and my tone grew colder. “Are you leaving on your own, or should I have the police escort you out?” “No, no, don’t call the police! Donald, do we really need to take it this far?” “Dad, let him call the police! We haven’t broken any laws. What are we afraid of? Some people here act all righteous, who knows what guilty secrets they’re hiding!” “Maurice, how can you talk like that? No matter what, Donald is still your brother-in-law.” Anderson tugged at Maurice’s sleeve with displeasure. “If you’re going to leave, leave soon. It’s getting dark, and I don’t keep guests.” I made a gesture inviting them to leave. “See that? You treat them like family, but they don’t necessarily treat you the same way.” Carol glared at me. “Exactly! He’s the one who wronged Bruna first. She’s barely buried, and he’s already found another woman!” “Donald must have been cheating on Bruna while she was still alive! Bruna can’t rest in peace!” “Even though Bruna is gone, we’re still here to seek justice for her! Donald, if you have any shame at all, get out right now!” Maurice aggressively punched the sandalwood chair, instantly creating a large hole in it. “Maurice, you break things, you pay for them! Since you’re Bruna’s brother, I’ll give you a discount on this $880,000 sandalwood chair—just pay me $300,000!” As I spoke, I calmly poured myself a cup of tea. “You’re clearly extorting me! Donald, I’m telling you, we’re keeping this house!” “You cheated during your marriage—you’re the guilty party. You should leave with nothing!” “Impossible.” I leisurely sipped my tea, completely ignoring Carol’s words. Carol was so angry she opened her mouth several times but couldn’t get a word out. Then Anderson spoke up. Once again, he played the good guy. “Donald, if this gets out, it won’t be good for your reputation either. We can keep quiet about your infidelity, but this house…” “It would be best if it’s transferred to Maurice’s name. Otherwise, we’ll go to your company and make sure you’re pointed at and talked about for the rest of your life, never able to hold your head up again.” “Think it over carefully.” “No need to think. If you want to make a scene, go ahead and do it everywhere. I don’t care.” With my completely stubborn attitude, Maurice suddenly slapped a piece of paper on the table with a loud “smack.” “Donald, see for yourself! It clearly says ‘I voluntarily gift my residential property to Maurice’! This is Bruna’s will, and it has legal force!” I didn’t go over. I signaled Gina with my eyes. Gina brought it over, and I glanced at it. “This handwriting is indeed Bruna’s, but who knows if it’s real?” “You scoundrel! You know perfectly well that the dead can’t speak!” “Yes, the dead can’t speak.” My gaze sharpened as I repeated Maurice’s words.

“Donald, what are you babbling about?! You say it’s fake, so it’s fake? Then I say Bruna paid for this house in full!” Maurice felt uncomfortable under my stare and flew into a rage. I ignored him and poured myself another cup of tea. “After all this talk, you won’t give up the house, right? Fine, but you won’t get a penny of Bruna’s massive accidental death insurance payout! You cheated during your marriage—I’ll sue you!” “Go ahead and sue me if you dare. I’ll be right here waiting.” I set the teacup down heavily on the coffee table. Anderson trembled, his body unstable. He shakily supported himself on the table and suddenly coughed up blood. “Dad!” Maurice rushed forward to support him in a panic. “If anything happens to my dad, I’ll fight you to the death!” “Then go ahead and fight me.” I toyed with the lighter, flicking it open with a “click,” then closing it with another “click.” Through the flame, I secretly observed the three of them. They seemed frightened by my appearance and all fell silent. Carol was the first to speak, though this time her attitude was more moderate than before. “Donald, we won’t take the house, but you must give us every penny of that compensation.” “Once you give it to us, we’ll leave immediately and never bother you again.” After listening, the corner of my mouth curved up. As expected, demanding the house earlier was just their test. The massive compensation was their real goal. I gave Gina a look. She threw some shade at Carol, “I’ve seen shameless people, but I’ve never seen anyone this shameless.” “You have no right to speak here! Get lost!” “This is Donald’s house. If anyone should leave, it’s you.” “It must be you, you homewrecker, who seduced Donald! Otherwise, why would someone usually so honest suddenly change like this today? I’ll slap that face of yours raw!” “Stop.” I grabbed Carol’s hand and flung it away. “Are you okay?” I held Gina’s hand, asking her gently. Gina shook her head. “I’m fine. This will be over soon.” I held her tightly. Seeing this, Carol burst into tears. “The world has gone to hell! Poor Bruna—she cared for you so tenderly when she was alive and never did anything wrong to you. But barely two days after her death, you’re embracing your mistress and flirting everywhere! Bruna, even if you came back to life and saw this scene, you’d be so angry you’d die again!” After hearing these words, I didn’t let go. Instead, I held Gina even tighter. Carol wasn’t wrong. Bruna and I had known each other since school. Every exam, we tied for first place in the entire school. After college graduation, I confessed my feelings to her. She shyly told me that I had always been her secret crush. I thought, perhaps this was fate. We got together. In the ten years since our marriage, our relationship had grown stronger day by day, never a single quarrel. You could say she had been part of my entire life. But I couldn’t agree with Carol’s last sentence. How could I bear to make Bruna angry? Bruna and I would only be happier in the future. Seeing me still holding Gina, Carol’s emotions became complicated. Her eyes darted around, as if thinking of something. Suddenly, her voice became extremely shrill. “I know now—you two conspired together to kill Bruna! Donald, give me back Bruna’s life!”

Carol’s fat body crashed toward me. Because I was protecting Gina, my back took the full force of the impact. Maurice seized this opportunity and stabbed me in the back with a fruit knife. Blood instantly soaked through my white shirt. Not wanting to worry Gina, I gritted my teeth and endured the intense pain. But Carol’s screeching voice buzzed in my ears like a fly. “Bruna, I should have stopped you from marrying him back then! Otherwise, you wouldn’t have died so horribly, not even leaving a complete body behind.” “And Donald is such a terrible person. After your accident, he didn’t even show his face. Now he’s cuddling with another woman! Where in the world is there such a heartless man?” “Poor Bruna, you’re dead—how am I supposed to live?” As Carol spoke, her voice suddenly rose. I was about to see what was happening. I didn’t notice Anderson’s movement in time. By the time I reacted, it was too late. Anderson patted my back, his voice ghostly. “Donald, Bruna was my only daughter. I was counting on her to take care of us in our old age, but who could have expected a car accident? We’re not asking you to support us in our retirement. Just hand over the compensation, and we’ll leave immediately.” I gasped in pain. Anderson did it on purpose, patting exactly where it hurt most. But the more he acted this way, the more it proved he had a guilty conscience. “What if I refuse to hand it over? Are you going to kill me? Let me tell you, even if I die here today, you’ll never get that money in your lifetime!” “Fine! Maurice, come here!” Anderson’s face twisted viciously. “Coming!” “You killed Bruna! I’m going to avenge her—I’ll beat you to death!” Maurice pulled out a whip and lashed it viciously at me. “Don’t be afraid.” I comforted Gina in my arms, holding her even tighter. Crack! Crack! Crack! The whip cut through the air with a cold, fierce wind, striking my back again and again. I could feel my shirt tearing, mixing with blood and sticking to my skin. Pain—burning, searing pain that drilled into my bones. Even so, I clenched my teeth, not letting myself make a single weak sound. “Donald, I didn’t expect you to be so protective of this homewrecker!” Maurice stabbed at me with his words, and the whip came down even harder and more forcefully than before. “Maurice, whip him! Beat him to death! Bruna was definitely killed by him. There are so many cases like this online, aren’t there? Husbands deliberately kill their wives to get massive compensation!” “I know—it’s called spousal murder for insurance fraud! With Bruna dead, the beneficiary is her spouse!” “Donald, are you even human? You bastard, give me back Bruna’s life!” “Bruna was kind to everyone her whole life, never did anything evil. Heaven is blind—how could she meet such a bastard?!” Anderson and Carol’s curses and slander continuously poured into my ears. Maurice’s whipping never stopped either. I deeply felt wound after wound appearing on my back. I silently endured all of this. I don’t know how much time passed before Anderson’s sinister voice rang out. “Alright, stop. We still need to leave him breathing.” “Donald, after all this, you still won’t hand over the compensation?” I nodded. Just as Maurice’s whip was about to fall again, I struggled to get out a sentence: “Bruna, you should finally see these three people’s true faces now, right?” As soon as my words fell, Gina rose from my embrace. She reached out and slowly peeled off the human skin mask. Carol, Anderson, and Maurice all widened their eyes. The three of them were so frightened they couldn’t even speak properly. “Are you… are you human or ghost?”

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On the night of our graduation trip, group leader Kelly suggested drawing room numbers for pairing. “It’s fate! No matter if you’re a guy or girl, if you draw the same number, you share a room. How exciting!” I’d been dating Catherine for three years of our four years in college. No one knew. I drew a ball from the box and waited to be paired. When Catherine’s turn came, she called out “Number 7.” Kelly’s voice instantly rose: “The other person who drew Room 7 is… Victor!” Victor was Catherine’s ex-boyfriend. The whole room erupted, except for me. Before the game started, I’d overheard Kelly whisper to Catherine: “Find the one with the circular bump—I specially saved it for you and Victor.” Since you two want to rekindle your romance, I’ll make it happen for you. The room assignments weren’t even finished, but the atmosphere had already peaked. Kelly distributed red wristbands to them, emphasizing loudly: “Let me remind everyone of the rules! Same number pairs up—for these three days and two nights, you’re bound together the whole trip. Go by wristband color, no solo activities allowed!” Wolf whistles rang out from the crowd. Some girls deliberately winked at Catherine. Victor smiled as he put on his wristband and took her small bag. Catherine’s face flushed deeper red as her petite frame shrank behind him. Victor smoothly removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “Cut it out, Catherine’s shy.” “Already being protective! Everyone better watch out—if you upset Catherine, Victor will come after you!” The teasing erupted into a chorus. I stood outside the crowd, left hand gripping the ball, right hand pulling a heavy suitcase. Before the trip, Catherine had stuffed her things into my suitcase: “You’ll be carrying my bag anyway. If you bring another suitcase, you won’t be able to drag it.” She’d also pointed at the new jacket I bought: “That one—I heard it gets cold there at night. Perfect for me to wear.” In our three years together, she never showed any intimacy with me in front of classmates, let alone wore my jacket. So I was overjoyed, thinking she’d use the trip to make our relationship public. But on day one of the trip, she wore Victor’s jacket. The bag she’d said I’d carry now hung from his shoulder. I bent down to set my things down and cleared my throat, suppressing the hoarseness. Then I raised my hand: “Um…” Everyone looked over. Kelly still radiated excitement: “What’s up, Owen? Victor’s your roommate—do you want to say something?” Victor froze, his lips twitching unnaturally. Catherine suddenly looked up, shooting me a nervous, warning glance. But her nervousness was misplaced. I simply held up my ball and asked: “Who’s Number 3?” Kelly scanned the room and saw someone raise their hand on the other side: “Me.” It was Maya, a girl with little presence in class. Kelly laughed: “Oh, Maya! I know you’re single. What about you, Owen?” “If you’re single, you can room together. If you have a girlfriend, I’ll switch you with a guy…” I gently interrupted: “I’m single.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Catherine’s eyebrows relax then furrow again. She turned her head as if to look at Maya, but Kelly had already pulled out orange wristbands: “Perfect! You’re both single—maybe you’ll become another couple!” I accepted the wristband and nodded politely: “Thanks.” As I picked up my suitcase again, I could feel a pair of eyes on me. I didn’t know what expression she wore at that moment. But probably… relief. With room numbers assigned, we lined up to check in. Victor went to call his family. Catherine dawdled, only handing over their IDs when I was the last one left. “Go find Kelly. Tell him you don’t want to room with a girl. Switch to a guy or get a single room. You’ll cover the extra cost.” She kept her voice low, eyes straight ahead, not even a sideways glance at me. I texted my parents to let them know I’d arrived safely, not looking up: “Why?” “What do you mean why? You’re not single. How can you room with the opposite sex?” “What about you? Are you single?” Catherine’s fingers paused, her tone carrying a hint of petulance: “This was the game rule from the start. I’m just respecting the results of the draw.” My voice was soft: “I’m also respecting the results of the draw.” Her almond eyes widened. Before she could speak, I took my room card and turned away. I’d only taken a few steps when Kelly announced loudly: “Everyone come to the screening room in half an hour. I’ve booked it out.” “Let’s get nostalgic and watch the documentary from our freshman year sports festival!” My steps didn’t falter. I just adjusted my grip on the suitcase handle. The freshman year sports festival documentary was a record of Catherine’s passionate pursuit of Victor.

In the screening room, the table was loaded with snacks and fruit. As soon as Catherine sat down, she pushed the grapes in front of Victor. A male classmate next to them teased: “Catherine’s so biased! She knows Victor loves grapes, so she saves the whole plate for him.” Others joined in the teasing. Victor pushed the plate away somewhat helplessly. But his tone revealed satisfaction: “Everyone share them. Catherine bought me plenty.” “If there’s not enough, I can go back to the room and get more.” But Catherine pulled the plate back, a smile playing on her lips: “I’ll go get more. You eat these first.” As she got up to leave, the teasing in the screening room exploded: “Victor says one thing and Catherine immediately does it! She treats you so well!” Victor ate grapes while laughing, then suddenly called my name: “Owen, when Catherine brings more, you should eat some too.” “I remember you also love grapes.” The door opened. Catherine walked in carrying two plates of grapes, placing them all in front of Victor. She knew too. Over these three years I’d bought grapes countless times, and heard her complain to me countless times: “Don’t eat so many. These grapes are so sweet—you’ll break out again.” I casually picked up an orange as Kelly called out: “Owen, where’s Maya?” Everyone looked over. I peeled the orange without looking up: “She had something urgent to handle.” Kelly sounded disappointed: “Then you two are a no-go. But that’s fine—the other pair will definitely work out!” Catherine’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, then moved away: “The documentary’s starting.” Her voice carried a breathy quality as she skillfully handed Victor a grape. The documentary was a full two hours. Everyone was thoroughly engaged, laughing and teasing whenever Catherine and Victor appeared on screen. “Catherine’s wiping Victor’s sweat again! He runs fifty meters and you follow closer than the cameraman.” “Look at that—water bottles, mini fans, sunscreen, everything prepared!” “Victor, Catherine’s pursuit of you was known across campus. How could you hold out and not accept? You made her stay single for four years, and even at graduation she still can’t forget you!” Victor looked at Catherine, his eyes tender: “I thought campus romance was unstable. I wanted to wait until after graduation to consider it.” “I never imagined she’d wait this long for me.” A girl egged them on: “Catherine, these four years of waiting must have been hard, right?” Catherine gazed at him, chin dipping slightly: “It was okay.” Two short words containing four years of patience and longing. Sighs of sympathy rose around the room. Only I laughed inwardly. Hard? What was hard about it? She pursued Victor passionately for half a year with no results, then got into tennis. I was the main player on the school tennis team. She asked me to coach her for six months, and right at the start of sophomore year, she confessed to me. Of course she was okay. Though our relationship wasn’t public, we were happy together. Very happy. Or perhaps only I thought we were happy. I lowered my head to eat some orange. The guy next to me suddenly pointed at the screen and shouted: “Owen, why is the class secretary holding a parasol for you? Did she have a crush on you?” The topic shifted to me. “No, she was just passing by.” I shook my head. The guy continued: “Too bad the class secretary didn’t come today. But she clearly liked you. You should consider it—I think you two would be good together.” Catherine was pouring water for Victor, movements smooth, as if she hadn’t heard our conversation. I smiled faintly: “No thanks.” “Actually, I have a girlfriend.” That figure suddenly froze, fingers clenching into her palm. I understood her—she was afraid I’d say something reckless. But the guy grabbed my arm, asking loudly: “Who? Is she a girl from our class?” Dozens of eyes turned toward me. I maintained my smile and nodded: “Yes.”

The room instantly erupted with questions about who it was. Catherine’s expression gradually darkened as she stared at her phone. I felt my phone vibrate twice but didn’t check, only saying: “She had something come up. She didn’t make it.” Seven or eight girls didn’t come today. Kelly looked disappointed, about to ask more, when Victor suddenly exclaimed “Ah.” His cup had tipped over, water soaking his pants. Catherine quickly grabbed tissues to help him wipe it off. He bent over, stopping her, apologetic: “Sorry about that. Didn’t hold it steady.” “It’s fine. I’ll go back with you to change. Don’t want you catching cold.” She left with Victor. With them gone, the documentary lost its appeal, and everyone dispersed. When I returned to my room, the suitcase was open. Catherine’s change of clothes and makeup bag were gone. I stared at my phone all night. The unread messages on screen were still those two she’d sent: “Don’t say anything. Don’t ruin the mood.” Right. I, as the boyfriend, couldn’t ruin the ambiguous atmosphere between her and another guy. Just like during the charity sale sophomore year—though I had the highest earnings, I had to give the certificate to Victor. Couldn’t steal his spotlight. Or like the tennis tournament junior year—because of Victor’s one comment “I want to try competing,” I had to withdraw. Couldn’t damage his enthusiasm. These three years, Catherine treated me well. She brought me water during matches, knitted me a scarf when it got cold. Apart from refusing to make our relationship public, she did everything a girlfriend should do. Except when it came to Victor—I always came second. Dawn broke. My phone still hadn’t rung. I gazed at the sun gradually rising outside the window, my heart growing calmer. Today’s itinerary was sightseeing. Catherine and Victor wore red wristbands, walking together the entire time. The camera I’d bought her ended up in Victor’s hands. He photographed her at every Instagram-worthy spot, then took selfies with her at the landmarks. While resting by the bridge, people asked about my future plans. “Owen, are you staying in LA or going back to New York?” I replied flatly: “Going back to New York.” Catherine wiped Victor’s sweat, casting a seemingly casual glance my way. Kelly nudged her: “Victor’s from LA. You’ll definitely stay in LA, right?” Catherine answered without hesitation: “Naturally.” Victor looked down with a smile, subtly moving closer until they were pressed tightly together. But a classmate seemed puzzled: “Owen, didn’t you already find work in LA? Why are you going back?” I smiled: “I turned down the job. Want to be closer to my parents.” “Really? Is it for your parents, or for your girlfriend?” Everyone gathered around gossiping. My smile deepened: “Both. My parents are getting older—I want to stay nearby to take care of them. She… also decided to settle in New York.” People teased and pressed me about who she was, but I just shook my head, refusing to say. At the next attraction, Catherine blocked me at the restroom entrance. “You really turned down the job?” She was anxious. After all, we’d found the work together. The company valued my grades, and my condition for joining was that they also hire my girlfriend. Now that I’d withdrawn, she couldn’t stay either. I nodded, my tone calm: “My parents arranged work for us in New York. Once we’re settled, we’ll get engaged.” “Owen!” Catherine suddenly flared up, but afraid others would hear, she suppressed it until her face turned ashen: “Who gave you permission to arrange my future without asking!”

She left in anger. The group straggled along. She pulled Victor to walk at the very front. I stayed at the back, chatting with classmates. It wasn’t until dinner at the buffet that Victor spoke clearly at the table: “The Perseid meteor shower? You guys don’t know about it? Catherine said there’s an observation point near here. Up to a hundred meteors per hour at peak.” Everyone at the table got interested, making plans to go watch. But Kelly clicked his tongue: “Could you guys show some awareness? You can see meteors from the hotel too. Don’t go be third wheels.” Everyone immediately understood: “True. The observation point has a clearer view, so it should definitely be saved for those who need it most.” Catherine served Victor food. Though she didn’t speak, the bashfulness on her cheeks said everything. The buffet here didn’t suit me—the flavors were too strong. I chewed a couple bites of seafood, but the seasoning stuck in my throat. I couldn’t swallow it. I lowered my head to spit it out and got up to find something milder. Kelly followed, saying quietly: “Owen, I saw you posted on Twitter a few days ago about going to the observation point for the meteor shower. Maybe don’t go—don’t disturb Catherine and Victor.” I nodded: “I know.” “Top of the class is smart. Let me tell you something you don’t know—them drawing the same number? I arranged it.” I nodded again: “I heard you when you told Catherine.” Kelly looked somewhat surprised. A classmate called him from behind, so he turned back. I opened a soup lid. Catherine happened to come over to get soup for Victor. Her tone was natural: “I was wrong today. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” “I understand—you’re upset because I’m rooming with Victor.” “But don’t worry. Last night I slept on the bed, he slept on the floor. We just chatted.” “Us rooming together is just following game rules. Nothing will actually happen.” I ladled soup, humming in acknowledgment. She didn’t look up: “Talk to your parents. It’s fine for us to develop our careers in LA. No need to go to New York.” “Once our jobs are stable, we’ll settle here.” This time I didn’t respond. After getting my soup, I turned around. She suddenly hesitated and called out: “Owen… Victor’s really looking forward to tonight’s meteor shower. I promised to watch it with him.” “Anyway, the Perseids happen every year. Next year, we’ll come again.” I faced away from her, palm pressed against the bottom of the bowl, yet I felt no warmth at all. Opening my mouth, my voice was soft: “Okay.” She sighed with relief. As she passed by me, she didn’t forget to bring Victor a plate of grapes. After dinner, I went back to my room to pack. I took out the outfit I’d coordinated for proposing to her under the meteor shower. The engagement ring and meteor shower brochure went into the trash together. Zipping up the suitcase, it was much lighter now. The flight ticket was bought last minute. Boarding was tonight. Ten minutes before takeoff, the Perseid meteor shower streaked across the sky. Everyone exclaimed, recording videos and taking photos. I pulled out my phone and saw an unread message. “Everything’s arranged. Your aunt and uncle went back to rest. I’m waiting for you at the airport.” The plane slowly climbed. The meteor trails carried fine silver light, illuminating half the cabin. I leaned back against my seat and slowly closed my eyes. Catherine, the two of us—there is no next year.

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My husband, Ethan Foster, was photographed at a maternity center. Every media outlet was speculating about who the mother of the Foster Group CEO’s illegitimate child could be. I just stared at my phone with a blank expression and turned it off. Ethan spoke in a flat tone: “Right now is a critical time for Stella’s career. She can’t afford any scandals.” “So?” I looked up at him, my gaze steady. “So tomorrow, you need to show up at the maternity center and claim that child as yours. After a while, Stella will take the baby back.” Listening to Ethan’s commanding tone, I smiled bitterly. So even now, all he cared about was Stella Quinn’s career. Seeing my silence, Ethan did what he always did—he handed me a check. “Fill in whatever amount you want. But you must claim this child as yours.” I froze for two seconds. Instead of taking the check, I went to the bedroom and pulled out a document I’d prepared long ago and handed it to him. Before I could say a word, Ethan flipped to the last page without hesitation and signed it. He had no idea that what I’d given him was a divorce agreement.

After signing, Ethan stood up, his expression somewhat uncomfortable. “I’m worried about Stella. I won’t be staying home tonight.” I smiled bitterly to myself. Of course. In his heart, Stella Quinn always came first. Even the rare times he came home were only to deal with Stella’s problems. Noticing my dazed expression, Ethan continued his instructions: “I’ll send a driver to pick you up tomorrow morning. Remember not to let any reporters notice.” He finished speaking and, like countless other nights over the years, left me with nothing but his retreating figure. Clutching the signed agreement, I suddenly felt a pang of reluctance. Just as Ethan was about to leave, I called out to him. “Don’t you… want to see what’s actually in the agreement?” Ethan turned around, his expression slightly mocking: “Isn’t it just about money?” The moment those words left his mouth, tears I’d been holding back spilled from my eyes. So this was who I was in his eyes. Ethan sighed and reached out to pat my head. “Emma, I’ve told you before—we’re husband and wife. What’s mine is yours.” “If you’re not satisfied with the check amount, I don’t mind if you want other things.” “But tomorrow, you must appear in front of those reporters. Understand?” I watched the concern for another woman in his eyes and nodded bitterly. Ethan looked satisfied. I wanted to say something more, but he spoke first. “Send another copy of that agreement to my assistant. He’ll transfer the money to your account.” “As for tonight, just get a good night’s sleep and wait for the driver tomorrow.” Before leaving, he instructed the housekeeper to pack some things I’d need at the maternity center. After all, if you’re going to put on a show, you have to do it properly. I’d have to stay there for several days to convince reporters to stop suspecting Stella. When the roar of his car engine started outside, I was still standing dazed in the living room. Ethan and I hadn’t spoken this closely in a very long time. I should have hugged him just now. But then I remembered the last time—because Ethan’s clothes had picked up my perfume scent, Stella had thrown a fit. To appease her, Ethan secretly took Stella abroad for vacation and had his assistant send her countless jewelry pieces. To keep reporters from suspecting Stella, I didn’t leave the house for an entire month until the two of them returned from their trip. I turned around, my gaze falling on the divorce agreement on the table. I felt nothing but relief. This marriage should have ended long ago. After I discovered Ethan’s first affair with his new secretary, Linda Rogers, I went crazy. I not only sent photos of the two of them to reporters—making “Foster Group CEO’s Affair” trend on social media for an entire week and causing the stock price to plummet—I even notified Linda’s parents in their remote village. At the time, Linda had just graduated from college. Unable to handle her parents’ abuse and the public’s accusations, she attempted suicide by cutting her wrists. Although she was saved in the end, Ethan still exploded at me in fury. “Emma, she’s so young—how could you hurt her in such a vicious way? I was the one who forced her into this relationship. If you’re angry, take it out on me.” I looked at the protective look in his eyes for that girl and thought about the provocative photos Linda had sent me. My anger only intensified. “Fine. Since you forced her, I’ll just call the police. I’ll tell everyone that the great CEO of Foster Group used his power to rape his own—” Before I could finish, Ethan slapped me across the face. That was the first time he’d ever laid a hand on me. But I could already see the tragedy this marriage would become. From then on, I stopped questioning his affairs. But Ethan still worried I’d treat his other women the way I’d treated Linda, so after each affair, he’d proactively have his assistant send me bags, jewelry, or checks. Looking at the room full of jewelry and handbags, and the enormous balance in my account, I found this marriage so pathetically laughable. Now, it was time to end it. I sent the final page of the agreement’s terms to Ethan’s assistant. “The husband agrees to transfer 30% of current assets to the wife.” Although the assistant was surprised that Ethan would be so generous this time, thinking about the comments regarding the illegitimate child trending online, he understood. Stella Quinn was the woman who’d been with Ethan the longest, so he would definitely do everything possible to protect her reputation—even if it meant using me. “Mrs. Foster, rest assured. I’ll transfer the funds to your account as soon as possible.”

When I went upstairs, I saw the housekeeper Sophia packing loose dresses into a suitcase. “Sophia, let me do it.” I took out the clothes she’d packed, one by one. Since I’d decided to leave, I wouldn’t take anything from this place. Seeing what I was doing, Sophia couldn’t help but sigh. “Ma’am, why do this to yourself? As long as you don’t agree, the master can’t exactly drag you there by force.” “That woman is shameless to begin with. Having an illegitimate child and still wanting a good reputation.” “If you keep indulging her like this, I’m afraid in the future she’ll…” She didn’t finish, but I could guess what she meant. Nothing more than showing up with the child to force her way into the family and demand official recognition. The position of Mrs. Foster? She could have it. Seeing my silence, Sophia sighed even more heavily. “Ma’am, you’re just too softhearted.” “The tactics those legitimate wives in this circle use—every single one of them is fiercer than yours.” “No matter how capable those mistresses are, none have dared to openly give birth to an illegitimate child like this one.” I knew she genuinely cared about me, but none of this mattered anymore. From the beginning, what I valued was Ethan’s sincerity. Now that he’d given it to someone else, what was the point of trying to get it back? Before Sophia could speak again, I pressed several pieces of jewelry I’d deliberately saved into her hands. She tried to refuse several times, but I firmly insisted she take them. Over the years, she’d practiced cooking in her spare time to help restore my health and made medicinal meals for me. I truly wanted to thank her. After urging Sophia to rest, I put several important documents in my bag. Once dawn broke, I could leave. However, the next second, my phone suddenly received several messages. “Emma, even if you help me this time, I won’t be grateful.” “Ethan said this child is only staying with you for a few days. In the end, he’ll come back to me.” “Let me tell you—don’t even think about stealing my son.” Stella wasn’t like Linda from before—she didn’t understand the meaning of knowing when to stop. I sneered as I typed a reply. “An illegitimate child? I’d feel dirty even holding him.” Right after I sent it, several more messages came through. “So what if he’s illegitimate? He’ll be Ethan’s only son in the future.” “Emma, even if you’re Mrs. Foster, all you can do this lifetime is watch my son inherit the Foster Group.” Stella seemed triggered by the words “illegitimate child” and stopped hiding her ambitions. When I saw the last few lines of text, my entire body froze in place. “Emma, you don’t know this, do you?” “The car that hit you back then wasn’t from Foster Group’s competitors at all—it was from rivals who were following me.” “Ethan knew those people would crash the car, but he still made you switch vehicles with me.” “He never wanted your child. He didn’t even want you.”

“Didn’t even want you…” I stared at the densely packed words on the screen, feeling a chill spread through my entire body. Even my hands began trembling uncontrollably. Thunder rumbled outside the window, as if dragging me back into that desperate, rainy night. The smell of blood and gasoline mixed with rainwater flooding into the car. The driver was barely alive, his consciousness fading. And I was trapped in the back seat, enduring the excruciating pain radiating from my abdomen. “My baby… someone please save my baby…” I pulled out my phone to call Ethan, but felt the crashed car begin to slide slowly. Before I could react, the next second the entire car plummeted rapidly. “Ethan, save me!” My scream was drowned out the instant the car hit the water. When I woke again, Ethan was sitting beside me, his eyes bloodshot. “Emma, I’m sorry. I failed to protect you.” My throat was too damaged from swallowing water to make a sound, but he understood my eyes. Ethan’s eyes were filled with heartache as he shook his head. I felt the stillness of my abdomen and closed my eyes in despair. A tear slipped into my hair, followed by broken sobs. Ethan was so panicked by my tears that he didn’t know what to do. He gripped my hand and apologized continuously. “Emma, we’ll have another child.” “I swear, from now on, you’ll be my only woman.” But I never got pregnant again, and he still never cut ties with Stella. After that accident, Ethan’s ruthless retaliation against his competitors made it easy for me to believe it had been their revenge. But now I understood—I was just Stella’s substitute sacrifice. Ethan and I had known each other since we were young, and later left our hometown together to build our careers. Back then, we had no education, no connections—just raw courage. But success never correlates with personal bravery alone. When our business ventures failed one after another and rainwater flooded into our basement apartment, Ethan’s face showed a despair I’d never seen before. “Emma, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you out here.” “You’ve suffered so much with me, and I still couldn’t give you a good life.” While moving computers, phones, and other important items to the highest shelf and trying to bail water out of the room, I teased him: “When Heaven is about to place great responsibility on someone, it first tests their resolve with hardship.” “We haven’t suffered that much yet. Have you already lost your fighting spirit?” “And here I believed you when you said you’d get me a luxury apartment.” Hearing my words and realizing I wasn’t blaming him, Ethan laughed and picked me up, spinning me around in the dirty water that reached our ankles. “I knew it—Emma loves me most.” “I swear I’ll never let you down.” But later, when we had everything, we’d lost that most genuine feeling. Ethan never coming home. Ethan constantly surrounded by scandals. Ethan looking at me with cold eyes. Every change reminded me that my husband was no longer the person who’d promised me his unchanging devotion. Three years ago, Ethan met Stella at a business dinner. She’d just entered the entertainment industry, played a few minor roles, and her career was going nowhere. But after their night together at a hotel, Stella’s resources suddenly improved dramatically, with scripts piling up for her to choose from. Online rumors started that she had a powerful backer, but no one ever photographed the man. Some in the industry suspected Stella was creating the rumors herself, that she’d landed those roles purely by luck. So they bribed people to eliminate this competitor. But they didn’t expect that I would be the one in that car that day—and I was already over seven months pregnant.

After a sleepless night, at dawn I prepared to leave this home I’d lived in for seven years. After taking a taxi to the airport, Ethan called, his voice filled with undisguised anxiety. “Emma, where did you go? Didn’t we agree last night that the driver would pick you up?” “We already agreed—” “Ethan.” My voice was hoarse. “Three years ago, when you had the driver switch cars, what were you thinking?” A woman who’d endured hardship with him for ten years. A woman carrying his child in her belly. How cold-hearted did he have to be to make me get into that car destined to be crashed off the overpass? “Emma, what are you talking about?” Ethan’s tone was confused. When he heard the airport announcement in the background, his voice unconsciously turned cold. “Emma, where are you? Are you backing out of claiming Stella’s child?” Listening to the boarding call, I smiled bitterly. “Where I am doesn’t matter. I never agreed to your demand last night.” “But three years ago, shouldn’t I have stayed in that freezing river, in that car filled with the smell of blood and water?” “Instead of being rescued by the search team and ending up in a hospital bed, right, Mr. Foster?” I heard the sound of a door slamming on his end, followed by Ethan’s rapid breathing. “Emma, did Stella say something to you?” “Just wait there. I’ll come explain everything.” I heard Ethan going downstairs and sighed softly. “Goodbye, Ethan.” “Emma, wait for me—” Before he could finish, I hung up and blocked his number. What happened had happened. No matter what explanation or compensation he offered, it no longer mattered. His ruthlessness back then was real. My grief at losing our child was real. So I would never forgive him. … The moment Ethan stepped outside, he was surrounded by reporters who’d been waiting. “Mr. Foster, why were you at the maternity center?” “Are the online rumors about an illegitimate child true?” “Does Mrs. Foster agree to let this child return to the Foster family?” The questions came one after another, but Ethan had no patience to deal with them. He pushed through the people blocking his way without hesitation, letting them photograph his rough behavior. After getting in his car, Ethan ordered the driver to head straight to the airport. But after searching several times, he couldn’t find Emma. Left with no choice, he returned home to ask Sophia—the only person who might know where Emma went. But before he could speak, he noticed the document on the table. He picked it up with confusion. On the cover were five clear words: “Divorce Agreement.”

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Back in college, he aggressively pursued my roommate, Chloe Evans. He used every trick in the book. Luxury gifts arrived one after another, and he even made a massive scene by delivering nine thousand roses to the courtyard of our sorority house. Everyone in our house benefited; we were carrying armfuls of roses back inside like we were clearing out a florist. Chloe was the only one who remained completely stone-faced. She even warned Liam Carter never to come looking for her again. “He’s loaded, and he’s not bad looking. Do you seriously not want him?” I asked her, a sheet mask plastered to my face. It was a question that had been baffling me for a while. She had such a gorgeous face, yet she spent every day hanging around that sketchy older guy who bounced between dead-end jobs. “I don’t. That kind of stiff, boring guy… if you want him, go ahead and chase him,” Chloe sneered dismissively. I rested my chin in my hand, thought about it for a brief moment, and nodded. “Okay. “I will.” 01 Chloe’s expression faltered, but she didn’t say anything else. After my mask was done, I washed my face and went downstairs. “She has a boyfriend.” Holding an umbrella, I looked at Liam, who was standing outside our house in the rain, staring up at our windows like a sad, devoted golden retriever. I couldn’t help but interject. He froze, pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose, and said apologetically: “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Chloe seriously hadn’t told him? He lowered his head, looking completely crushed, and turned to throw the bouquet of black roses in his hand into the trash can. Standing under my umbrella, I watched the rain soak the flowers and felt it was a damn shame. Black roses. I liked them. “Wait, don’t throw them away. Give them to me.” He looked at the rain-soaked roses, let out a self-deprecating laugh, and handed them over. “Okay.” At that moment, his white dress shirt was soaked through from the rain, clinging tightly to his torso and revealing a faint outline of his abs. Clean-cut, gentlemanly, has abs, tall, and obedient. But the most important thing was: he was rich. Honestly, he was exactly my type. “Hey,” I called out to him. He turned around, looking confused. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Chase me instead.” I reached out and held my umbrella over his head, shielding him from the rain. I wasn’t bad looking either. I went to bed early, woke up early, and lived a very healthy lifestyle. I jogged four miles every morning, ate a clean dinner every night, and did my skincare routine religiously. I had far more guys chasing me than Chloe did, but I had shot them all down. He took off his gold-rimmed glasses and stared at me quietly. It felt like a long time passed. Long enough for his assistant to rush over with an umbrella, long enough for his black SUV to pull up to the curb. “Okay.” 02 He took down my number and left. I turned around and went back upstairs. I had looked into Liam’s background. The moment he graduated, he started his own tech company, and it was scaling rapidly. Once he eventually went back to inherit the Carter Group, he was going to be obscenely wealthy. That was why I could never understand Chloe. Maybe it was because my parents fought constantly over money and eventually divorced, but the absolute number one requirement on my dating checklist was: he has to be rich. If you have money, you don’t have to scream at each other over the electric bill or the cost of groceries. When I walked back into our room, Chloe looked at the flowers in my hands, her face turning ugly. “You don’t have to worry anymore. He won’t bother you again,” I told her as I set the flowers down and started towel-drying my hair. I thought she would breathe a sigh of relief or look like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Instead, her expression grew even darker. “You’re a slut.” … ? She actually cursed at me. Chloe’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear enough to make the entire room drop into dead silence. I stopped drying my hair. The towel slipped from my hands, hitting the floor with a wet smack. I’m not the type to get physical, but in that moment, I still walked over and slapped her across the face. Neither of us were the type to lose control of our emotions, but that day, there was some deeply suppressed, intense emotion brewing in her eyes. I couldn’t read it, and I didn’t care to try. Our housemates were terrified. Some tried to mediate, some held me back, some said I went too far, and others said she was being a massive hypocrite. But I genuinely didn’t understand. She clearly said she didn’t want him. She clearly said his attention was a nuisance. So why, when I took him off her hands, did it suddenly become “stealing”? 03 From that day on, she moved out of the house, and we practically never spoke again. I didn’t let it bother me much. Some people said I was morally bankrupt; others said the same about Chloe. I still didn’t get it. She said Liam’s pursuit was annoying her. She said she didn’t want him. So when I said I wanted him, why was she so pissed off? Fine, be pissed off. But cursing at me? I wasn’t going to tolerate that. Occasionally, I’d hear about her and her boyfriend. Some people said they were a perfect match, the smart girl and the bad boy. People on the campus forums even shipped them. As for me, my interactions with Liam only grew more frequent. He wasn’t great at expressing his emotions, but his manners were impeccable, his behavior completely restrained, and he quickly became the hottest topic on the university gossip boards. I became the girl by his side, and the rumors spread like wildfire. But I didn’t care. I knew exactly what I wanted from the very beginning. On the day of our wedding, Liam was busy until the very last minute, finally rushing in wearing a perfectly tailored Tom Ford suit to stand before me. He looked like a freshly calibrated, highly precise piece of machinery. The wedding was incredibly lavish. I didn’t even recognize a third of the names on the guest list. I smiled appropriately, my posture elegant. In every single photo taken that day, I was flawless. I still have no idea how he convinced his parents to let him marry me. It wasn’t a marriage of convenience between two elite families. We weren’t of equal social standing. But his parents were incredibly cultured and polite. The disdain and snobbery I had imagined never happened. They gave us their most sincere blessing: “We hope the two of you support each other and build a wonderful marriage and life together.” After the wedding, my life was incredibly comfortable. Liam was truly, insanely rich. How rich? He had companies operating globally. We flew exclusively on his private jet, and he routinely signed contracts worth hundreds of millions. Marrying him was the smartest decision I ever made. He didn’t understand romance, and he didn’t understand me. He never wrote me love letters, never called me in the middle of the night just to say he missed me. Even on Valentine’s Day, he just had his assistant send flowers. He was the textbook “corporate husband”—calm, disciplined, and boring. Perhaps all his passionate, heart-pounding romantic energy had been entirely spent on Chloe. Being with him felt like I had married a money-making machine. “Is your husband away again? What’s the point of having all that money if he never comes home? Aren’t you lonely?” Sophia, my childhood best friend, asked me one day. We had lost touch a bit after I got married. When she came over, she immediately started complaining on my behalf, feeling that my husband spent way too little time with me. I didn’t agree. I took her on the private jet. How could I be lonely? The world is so massive. I should be thanking my husband for working himself to the bone to make so much money, giving me the chance to go see it all. Anywhere in the world, as long as I wanted to go, I could enjoy the absolute pinnacle of luxury. Lonely? How could I be? 04 My best friend’s expression darkened, and she finally just shook her head: “I still think this isn’t how a marriage should be. Being together is the most important thing. I’d rather struggle through poverty together than live like this.” … I didn’t understand. I was even a little shocked. There was actually someone else who thought exactly like Chloe. But I still felt a little down. Maybe, in their eyes, I was the freak? “I think you’ve changed. You’re not the Harper I grew up with anymore…” She flushed under my gaze, threw down that sentence, and stormed off in a huff. She was right. I had changed. In the beginning, I would take her on trips, cover all the expenses, and give her an authorized user card for whatever spa treatments she wanted. But she always felt humiliated. Everywhere we went, she insisted I calculate exactly how much she owed me, refusing to take advantage of me. Even though I repeatedly told her it wasn’t necessary, and Liam even explicitly told her to keep me company and that he would expense everything, she still refused. When my assistant would give her the heavily discounted receipts for her share of the trips, she would look at the exorbitant numbers, her face turning ugly, and demand the original itemized invoices from the assistant. She cynically suspected my assistant was trying to scam her out of money. Over time, I stopped inviting her out as much. After marriage, the circles I moved in were completely different. I was incredibly busy. Aside from traveling to relax, I enrolled in countless classes, ranging from floral design to French to financial management. I studied relentlessly. Not out of interest, but to prepare for the “what ifs.” I refused to leave this marriage empty-handed. I had heard that Chloe broke up with her sketchy boyfriend, and she had even gotten a job at one of Liam’s subsidiary companies. If the day ever came when Liam suddenly remembered his passionate, unforgettable first love and demanded a divorce, I wasn’t going to fight an unprepared battle. While taking half his assets in a divorce might be unrealistic, I intended to take as much as I legally could. And once I had the money, I needed to know how to manage it. So, I was very busy. 05 When I returned from my trip to Paris, Sophia came over. “Harper, his ‘first love’ is back! The one that got away! And she’s super rich now.” You married Liam for his money, but now you can totally divorce him and marry Julian! “He hasn’t looked for anyone else all these years. He’s still in love with you!” Coincidentally, Liam came home the exact same day I got back. He heard every single word she said. He stood in the foyer, wearing a perfectly pressed suit, his expression mild, betraying no emotion in his eyes. Sophia turned around and instantly went pale. She scrambled to her feet, laughing nervously: “Mr. Carter, you’re home… I was just joking around, Harper wouldn’t actually…” “I didn’t take it seriously.” His tone was calm. He walked in, not even unbuttoning his jacket, holding a gift box he had brought back from his business trip. “I didn’t take it to heart either.” He lowered his eyes and placed the exquisite box in front of me. “You mentioned last time that you wanted the Mille Crepe cake from Hokkaido. I brought it.” My eyes flickered, but my fingers didn’t move. My schedule was managed by my assistant, who reported directly to him. He knew I was coming back today and came home specifically to see me. I knew how incredibly tight his schedule was; making the time to fly back wasn’t easy. “…Thank you.” I heard him give a soft “Mhm” before he turned and headed upstairs. I sat on the couch, staring at the flawless, pristine crepe cake in front of me, and suddenly felt like it would taste like cardboard. 06 Sophia had bolted. She hadn’t expected Liam to come home early. She also hadn’t expected him to be the complete opposite of a “clueless, emotionless robot husband.” Actually, I knew that too. I knew he treated me well. It was just a very specific kind of well. It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t passionate, it wasn’t “heart-fluttering.” It was just overwhelmingly steady. He and I were alike. We were both extremely disciplined people, and two people that similar rarely sparked fireworks. Our only true point of compatibility was… well, underneath the suits, he was built like a fitness model, and in bed, he was shockingly intense. Yet even in our most intimate moments, he strictly controlled the pace, disciplined to the point of rigidity, yet flawlessly satisfying. Thinking about the fact that we might separate one day, a strange sliver of disappointment actually pierced my chest. I hadn’t taken Sophia’s words to heart. Who could possibly be richer than Liam? The “first love” she was talking about, Julian Vance, was just a guy who pursued me back in college. He chased me, I told him I wasn’t interested, but he went around telling everyone I had said yes. When he kept harassing me, I bluntly told him I would only marry a rich man. Rumors are hard to kill, and somehow, the narrative twisted into him being my tragic first love. It was laughable. But the very next day, Julian actually contacted me. The text was cautious and restrained: “Harper, it’s Julian. Can we meet? I have something I need to tell you.” That disgusting familiarity… I didn’t reply. But it definitely caused a ripple of anxiety in my mind. Not because of love, but because he felt like a ticking time bomb. If I didn’t handle this carefully, it could become a hidden fuse in my marriage, blowing up my life the day it was triggered. I knew how lethal a media scandal about an “unforgettable old flame” could be. I wasn’t some hopeless romantic; I was entirely clear-headed. If I wanted to maintain the life I had, I couldn’t make a single mistake. Before Liam ever brought up divorce, I definitely wasn’t planning on initiating one. 07 When I showed up to the meeting, Sophia was there too. She ordered drinks, and Julian only had a few glasses. I hesitated for a moment before taking a sip. Honestly, the wine was trash. It couldn’t hold a candle to the cheapest bottle Liam kept in his cellar. I took one sip and pushed it away. Cheap liquor really is dangerous. Just that tiny sip made me dizzy, and the faces of the two people across from me started to blur into double vision. I slumped onto the table, groggily hearing them talk. “Baby, you are absolutely not allowed to touch her. We agreed, we just take the photos! Otherwise I’ll get jealous, and I won’t forgive you!” It was Sophia’s voice, pitched artificially high and nasally, like she had a cold. Who was she calling ‘baby’? Why was she using that disgusting voice? “Don’t worry babe, we’re just taking photos and recording a video. With this leverage, we’ll easily force the Carter Group into a partnership.” Julian? My foggy, heavy brain nearly short-circuited. Sophia and Julian? I blindly pressed the emergency shortcut on my phone. Just as Julian’s filthy hands were about to touch me, the bodyguards Liam had assigned to me burst into the room. “Mrs. Carter, are you alright?” The two people in front of me were immediately surrounded by security, and the restaurant was locked down. “What are you doing?! I’m Harper’s best friend! We grew up together! What are you trying to do?!” Sophia panicked. She had been to my house a few times and seen the staff, but she clearly didn’t know I traveled with a private security detail. Maybe I just never imagined that my so-called best friend would conspire with an outsider to drug and frame me. What did she even want? I didn’t understand. If she truly just wanted a business partnership, all she had to do was ask, and I would have helped her. Why go through this massive, convoluted plot to set me up?

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My stepbrother hated my guts. But I loved shadowing him. He paid me three grand just to skip walking to school with him, and thirty grand to transfer out of his class. Except every single time, I’d find my way back into his orbit. After graduation, he wired a massive sum to my account and said coldly: “There’s three-quarters of a million dollars. Go study abroad and never show your face in my house again.” My eyes welled up, and I lowered my head, whispering, “Okay.” Yes! Finally pulled it off. 01 I walked in on Tyler and the scholarship kid, Maya, right before they kissed. It was in a dimly lit VIP booth at a club. He was lounging in a corner sofa, looking exhausted, his eyes closed. His sharp profile was half-lost in the shadows. Maya, standing there in her white dress, had her hands planted on either side of him on the couch, tentatively leaning down, getting closer and closer to his face. Then I barged in. She jumped, turning around to face me in a panic. Her eyes were wide and watery, like a deer caught in headlights. “Harper, I…” I walked right past her, straight up to Tyler. ” The driver’s here. Dad told me to make sure you got a ride home too.” He picked up his jacket from beside him, threw it on, and followed me out. It was late, and the hallway was nearly empty. He pulled the door shut but didn’t move. He just leaned against it, standing there lazily. “She almost kissed me.” “…” I didn’t say anything. His voice took on an annoyed edge. “She’s terrified of everything. It took a lot for her to work up the courage to do that.” I unlocked my phone, showed him the time, and the text message my stepdad—his dad—had sent me. I explained in a low voice. “Dad really did tell me to give you a ride.” He glanced at it, dismissing me with a grunt. “Oh.” “I’m eighteen now, and I’m done with high school. He can’t control me anymore. Tattling won’t do you any good.” A flicker of neon light passed over us, illuminating his face. His cheeks were flushed. He was drunk. I gripped my sleeves, my voice barely audible. “But…” He cut me off quickly. “Take your own Uber back.” “And another thing—” His fingers tapped rapidly on his phone screen. “There’s three-quarters of a million dollars. Go study abroad and never show your face in my house again.” “Let’s make sure we never see each other after this.” “Harper, I really, truly hate you.” He was never going to see me again. My eyes instantly turned red. I lowered my head, holding back a sob. “Okay.” Tyler turned, walked back into the booth, and slammed the door hard behind him. I checked the numbers in my mobile banking app. I couldn’t help it. I crouched down, covered my mouth, and let out a sob that turned into a giggle. Yes! Finally pulled it off. 02 Tyler had hated me for a long time. He thought my mom and I were just gold diggers after the Vance family fortune. Well, he was smart about that. When I was fourteen, he put two lizards in my bed, trying to scare me into leaving his house. I screamed and cried. To comfort me, my stepdad gave me a huge allowance. Seeing the money made me happy again. When I was sixteen, Tyler and I were sent to the same private high school. He didn’t want to be in the same class as me, but he also didn’t want his dad to hit him and then give me money to make up for it. So, he skipped the intermediate steps. “Thirty grand.” “Transfer out of this homeroom.” Freshman year, I left. Sophomore year, I came back. He hadn’t specified a time limit. When I walked back into the classroom with my backpack, Tyler’s face was thunderous. The guy sitting in front of him grinned. “Ty, your sister is nothing if not persistent.” Tyler said coldly, “She is not my sister.” Everyone in the room gave a knowing smile. Tyler looked at me, scowling. “What is it actually going to take for you to disappear?” My eyes welled up. “Do you really hate me that much?” He flashed some numbers on his phone. I bit my lip. “Sorry. I think I walked into the wrong classroom today.” 03 I had identified a business opportunity. Tyler was seriously rich. His mom, who lived in Europe, had already paved the way for him with a massive trust fund. When he played golf, I’d be right there on the sidelines, acting as his hype man, holding his water and jacket. He came over to confront me once. I looked up at him, my eyes shining with feigned admiration. “Can’t I just look up to my big brother?” He Venmoed me money. “If you have nothing to do, go shopping. Stop annoying me.” Well, I had to accept the contribution. I shadowed Tyler for over a year. Everyone in our circle knew he had this stepsister, and they even joked about it, saying they’d send him flowers when he inevitably ended up on the news for losing it on me. Over time, Tyler stopped bothering to explain. He just consistently offered me money to get lost. But I wasn’t about to abandon my ATM. For Tyler’s eighteenth birthday party, he drank. When he got home from the venue, I was there with one hand holding an electrolyte drink and the other stabilizing him. I was hoping he was drunk enough to miscount the zeros on a bank transfer. He squinted, looking down at me, and suddenly said, “Harper, you are seriously calculating and manipulative.” There was a hint of mockery in his voice. I paused, my foot on the stairs. Getting insulted was going to cost extra. Without warning, he grabbed my waist, flipped the light switch, and pinned me against the railing of the spiral staircase to kiss me. Everything went dark instantly. My entire vision was filled with his face. His breath felt like a raging storm. Stunned, I shoved him away hard. The bottle in my hand hit the floor with a clatter and rolled down the stairs. My stepdad stood at the top of the stairs, asking, “Harper? Is everything okay?” I suppressed my shaking voice, putting on my usual aggrieved tone to complain: “Tyler’s drunk. He’s throwing a tantrum and smashed my bottle.” Tyler leaned against the railing, head down, not saying a word in the darkness. My stepdad sighed. “He’s always like this, goes crazy when he drinks. Ignore him. Go back to your room and rest. I’ll help him up.” I fled to my room. At 3:00 AM, Tyler texted me. [I’m sorry.] [I couldn’t see straight. I thought you were someone else.] It was the first time he had ever apologized to me. But it was an insult. It came with a Venmo transfer. I didn’t accept it, and I didn’t reply. 04 I found out later who that “someone else” was. One of Tyler’s many admirers. Maya Hayes, a scholarship student constantly ranked in the top ten of our class. She was insecure and timid, only daring to look up at him from afar. Somehow, Tyler had noticed her. He had said, “She’s just like Harper, always putting on that pathetic, pitiful act.” “Who is she trying to fool?” He hated me, yet he seemed drawn to Maya when she acted that way. After school, I was sitting in the car waiting for him. Then I saw a girl in the school uniform following behind him. The car door opened. He didn’t get in. He was holding her backpack. He raised an eyebrow at me and said casually, “Get out.” I was stunned for a second. Maya carefully reached out, grabbing his arm and giving it a gentle shake. Her voice was soft. “It’s okay, Tyler.” “I can take the bus back.” Tyler didn’t back down. His voice grew cold. “I’m driving her home.” “I sent you money. Take an Uber.” Why couldn’t he give me a bit more so I could just buy my own car and drive back? Whatever. Don’t push your luck. I nodded in humiliation, bit my lip, squeezed my backpack straps, and obediently got out of the car. It was dusk, and the crowd of students was dispersing. I stood by the roadside alone, staring at the tips of my shoes, tears falling one by one. It wasn’t until the car had driven off in the completely opposite direction that I wiped away my tears and opened Tyler’s message. $2,000? Good thing I didn’t check the message right in front of him. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to cry. 05 Tyler’s three-quarters of a million dollars came too late. I hadn’t prepared for the English proficiency exams in advance, so I had to cancel most of my summer travel plans and parties, holed up in my room memorizing vocabulary. Tyler was downstairs throwing a party with his friends. The speakers were incredibly loud. I took off my noise-canceling headphones and walked downstairs. “Can you turn it down a little?” Tyler’s friend patted the empty spot next to him and smiled. “Harper, you’re home? Why don’t you come join us?” I pressed my lips together in an embarrassed smile. “I’m upstairs studying.” “Studying?” Someone finally turned off the music to listen to me speak. “I thought people who studied this hard over summer break only existed on the internet.” “Maya came out to play, you should too.” Tyler never looked up from his phone the entire time. Maya was sitting next to him, smiling gently and sweetly at me. Then she took on a hesitant look. “Harper, you aren’t… planning on retaking your senior year, are you?” I wasn’t close with her. For her to call me by a nickname like that, it looked like things were progressing with Tyler. She continued, “It’s okay if you didn’t do well on the SATs.” “Mr. Vance is so rich, I’m sure he has plenty of connections to get you into a school.” Sensing the tension between us, everyone went quiet. I said softly, “Yeah, my family has money. It doesn’t matter what my scores are.” “Maya, are you worried about not getting in anywhere?” Her face went pale. Tyler finally looked up, giving her hand a reassuring pat. “Harper, don’t be a bitch.” I nodded. “Okay.” “I’m going up to study. Keep it down, please.” I put my headphones back on and walked up the stairs. I could feel several pairs of eyes on my back, making my skin crawl. 06 On score release day, Maya was also at the Vance house. The excuse this time was that her ancient computer at home had broken down. Even though Tyler knew the scores were sent via text message, he still indulged her and brought her back. Around 3:00 PM, I heard sobbing from Tyler’s study. I couldn’t tell if it was from sadness or joy. The text message didn’t give the total score. Tyler was holding a calculator, adding up each section for her. I was heading out for a prep class and passed his study. The door wasn’t shut. He was leaning against a bookshelf, reading out the score. “1520.” Just loud enough for me to hear. He knew I was walking by. He didn’t look up. “What about you?” Maya looked confused. “What?” I was downstairs putting on my shoes and replied casually. “1580.” Better than I expected. I was just waiting for him to ask. Something suddenly dropped to the floor inside the room. It made a sharp sound. 07 “My dad wants you to go to Harvard.” That evening, Tyler was standing outside my room, speaking through the door. My stepdad was a pretty traditional guy. He valued prestige and thought having a child go to an Ivy League school would give him more social standing. I held the doorknob, wanting to shut the door. “But you told me to go abroad.” “…” Tyler was silent for a moment, then laughed. “You listen to me now?” The money was in the bank; of course I was going to listen. Though in the past, I admittedly only listened halfway. He’d tell me to get lost, I’d get lost for an hour, and then I’d come back. This time, I was too embarrassed to do that. Three-quarters of a million dollars. I promised that once I took it, I was gone. I’d never show up again. Family gatherings? My mom and I could eat at a separate table. He said, “So you’re ignoring what my dad wants?” I had played the obedient child at home often enough. I lowered my head and bit my lip, putting on my best meek and mild act, fiddling with the hem of my dress. He said, “Give me your login passwords. I’ll fill out your applications.” I said weakly, “Don’t send me to some community college in the middle of nowhere.” Tyler let out a light laugh. “You know I won’t.” I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I was preparing to accept an offer from a university in London. 08 To play it safe. Tyler filled out his own top choice as Cornell for Agricultural Sciences. For Maya, he filled out Mechanical Engineering. His mom had money and connections over in Europe; he just needed the degree, he didn’t care about the major. As for my applications, he filled all twelve slots with schools in Boston. I’d have to go through and delete every single one of them. Both he and Maya got accepted. He truly didn’t care about Maya’s future career satisfaction either. My stepdad was thrilled and planned to book a hotel for a massive graduation party. At dinner, he opened a bottle of expensive red wine to toast my mom. Tyler walked downstairs and casually mentioned, “Can we have Harper’s party at the same time?” We had had a joint middle school graduation party years ago. My stepdad smiled. “We aren’t throwing a party for Harper yet.” “She’s going abroad. To make sure she doesn’t take up an American student’s spot, she deleted all her domestic applications.” “We’ll throw hers next year.” The faint smile on Tyler’s lips vanished instantly. His face went dark and stormy. “Abroad?” I kept my head down, quietly eating, occasionally taking a small sip of the $15,000 bottle of red wine. I didn’t really appreciate the taste. But the more I drank, the more value I got. I certainly wouldn’t buy it with my own money. My stepdad frowned. “Yeah. The decision was a bit rushed, but I fully support Harper.” “This is such a happy day, why the long face?” Tyler kept his eyes down. “I’m not happy.” My stepdad was confused. “You’re the one who said you wanted to go to the same school as the girl you like. Now you’ve both been accepted, to an Ivy League school no less, what is there to be unhappy about?” “The major is a bit weak, but you can always transfer later. It’s not like we’re actually going to make you a farmer.” “Your mom is happy too. She wants you to go visit her in Europe for a month this summer.” Tyler asked, “Which country?” My stepdad slammed his chopsticks down. “You don’t even know which country your own mother lives in anymore?” He looked at me. “I’m asking Harper.” My stepdad silently picked up his chopsticks. I set down my wine glass, carefully raising my eyes. “I haven’t decided yet.”

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My parents always claimed to treat all their children exactly the same. Whenever there was a chance to get something new for the house, they’d make the three of us kids draw lots via a group text app to decide who would buy it. And I always seemed to draw the big-ticket items—like a dishwasher, an AC unit, or a massage chair. Meanwhile, my younger brother and older sister would only ever draw cheap, insignificant things, like a $30 blender or a basic grocery care package. It wasn’t until the day I helped my dad fix his phone that a text message popped up: “Hey man, the lottery bot app updated. You can rig the results and run multiple draws now. You said the client is getting suspicious? Just set the same result three times in a row.” That’s when I realized I was the “client.” That evening, the family group chat lit up again. My dad texted: “We need to upgrade to a minivan for family road trips. Let’s see which sweet child gets the lucky draw today!” But what my dad didn’t know was that I had already installed an anti-cheat lottery app on my phone. In the end, the person who drew the short straw to buy the car was my little brother. My parents were absolutely stunned. 1 When the draw results popped up, the group chat went a bit quiet. My brother, Tyler, was in disbelief: “Me???” I chimed in: “Wow! Tyler, you’re the lucky winner!” My dad was probably a little confused. He sent a voice memo to the group: “Alright! Just to be fair, let’s do best out of three!” The results disappointed my dad. The next draw picked my older sister, Chloe, and the final draw picked Tyler again. I was completely left out. Chloe sent a speechless emoji: “Lost my chance to treat mom and dad.” Tyler got angry: “What the heck! Why is my luck so bad today!” Me: [?????] My mom came out to smooth things over: “What do you mean ‘bad luck’? Spending money on your parents is called giving back. Your sister was so happy when she drew the central AC before! When she got her $12,000 year-end bonus, she spent it on us—that’s what we call a blessing!” Tyler grumbled: “What blessing? Let Chloe have this blessing then!” I suppressed the cold laugh in my heart and replied: “I’ve drawn a $5,000 massage chair, a $2,000 fridge, and a $12,000 central AC system before. What did you guys say back then? Didn’t you say that God favors those who honor their parents? Why are you unhappy now that you won?” Tyler lost his temper: “Harper Vance! Stop being so sarcastic! This car is $25,000! Why don’t you buy it for Mom and Dad!” As soon as Tyler said that, the group chat suddenly went dead silent. Nobody had called me by that name in a long time. 2 There are three kids in my family: my older sister Chloe, my younger brother Tyler, and me, Harper Vance. Actually, I didn’t realize there was anything wrong with my given middle name until right before I got married. I even thought “Harper” and my middle name, “Dawn,” sounded very pretty together. But one day, while bickering with my fiancé, Liam, he blurted out that my parents didn’t love me at all. I argued back: “My parents don’t love me? Who made the pot roast you ate for lunch today? If they didn’t love me, would they cook for me and drive all the way here to drop it off?” He unceremoniously punctured my delusion: “The money your parents spend on you is less than a tenth of what they spend on your sister and brother, but the return they get from you is more than a hundred times that. What’s a little pot roast? For your sister’s birthday, your parents gave her a gold bracelet. For your birthday, they made you a bowl of pot roast, and you’re proud of it?” “They only love you with their words.” I was so angry at the time. I repeatedly defended my parents, saying they were very fair, and even accused him of not understanding sibling dynamics because he was an only child. When the argument reached its peak, he blurted out: “If your parents really love you, why did they give you the middle name Dawn?” I froze. So, I quickly called my mom: “Mom, why is my middle name Dawn?” My mom hesitated for half a minute: “Huh? Dawn as in the break of day, Dawn is…” Liam typed on his phone next to me to show me: “Ask Mom directly, is it supposed to mean ‘Dawn of a son’?” I asked nervously: “Mom, when you gave me this name, was it because you were hoping for the dawn of a baby boy?” I tried to make my tone sound as light as possible. My mom sighed in relief: “We were able to have your brother all thanks to you bringing in the dawn! I’ll have to make that brat buy you dinner sometime!” My face instantly turned cold: “Mom, you always said my brother was an accident. You said you didn’t specifically keep trying just because you wanted a boy!” My mom panicked: “Hey, Harper, listen to me…” After hanging up the phone, my face was dead pale. Liam hurriedly apologized: “I’m sorry, honey, it’s my fault! I shouldn’t have said anything!” “Dawn of a son.” How could I have not realized this for the past few decades? 3 I suddenly intensely hated the middle name Dawn. Later, Liam pulled some strings and helped me legally change my middle name to “Grace.” The name was chosen together with my in-laws, meaning elegance and blessing. When my mom found out, she scoffed: “What kind of name is that? It sounds so stuck-up. Good thing you’re already married, otherwise I’d think that name was cursing you to end up alone.” I didn’t respond, but I felt incredibly sad inside. 4 The next afternoon, my mom called me. “Grace, are you still mad? Your brother is just a jerk, I’ve already scolded him.” I said: “It’s nothing, I’m not holding it against him.” My mom sighed: “Out of the three kids in our family, you are the most worry-free, the most sensible, and the most capable. Mom and Dad are counting on you in the future.” She rambled on to me for over half an hour. She said Tyler’s company was doing layoffs and pay cuts, and he was in a bad mood. She said my dad scolded Tyler yesterday and praised me for my great contributions to the family. Finally, realizing I wasn’t actually angry, she reminded me: “We won’t cook for the family dinner this weekend. Your dad’s shoulder pain is acting up again, let’s just go to The Olive Branch.” I said okay. 5 On the day of the family dinner, my brother immediately showed off to me, saying he bought the car. I was a little surprised. My dad said: “Of course! How else can you say a son is like a nuclear weapon—you might not use it, but you can’t be without one!” “Tyler is really practical. It’ll be so convenient for the family to go out in the future. He’s much better than those kids who only care about themselves.” My expression remained normal, pretending not to understand. “Harper, it’s not that Dad wants to criticize you, but look at your brother. Even though he wasn’t happy about it verbally, he still bought it for us right away! And you? You make a good living running your salon, right? I never see you take the initiative to buy anything for the house; Mom and Dad always have to rely on a lottery to decide.” Chloe kept shrinking into the background, trying to minimize her presence. I put down my water glass and looked at my dad: “Dad, didn’t you say you wanted to treat us all equally? So buying anything for you relies on a lottery? I never said a word about whatever I drew before, did I?” Seeing the tension rising, my mom finally spoke up. “But your dad really miscalculated this time. The base price of the car was over $28,000. The down payment alone wiped out your brother’s savings. Mom and Dad were thinking, could you two share a bit of the burden? Next time we need something, we won’t ask you guys.” Chloe quickly waved her hands: “My monthly salary is only $3,200, and my rent is $1,500. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. I don’t have the money.” My brother opportunistically chimed in, saying he took a pay cut and a $900 monthly car payment was really too much to handle. I just kept my head down and ate, not saying a word. 6 Actually, Liam and I keep our finances relatively separate; he takes care of the household expenses and the mortgage. I studied biotechnology in college, worked for ten years after graduation, and then started my own business, opening a high-end salon. Liam comes from a very good family. He never questions how I spend my money. Whatever I buy, he always provides full emotional support—either praising my good taste or saying it suits me perfectly. In addition, he gives me a separate $3,000 a month in allowance. Even my friends say that a man like Liam is a scarce resource—rich, handsome, and treats his wife so well. Liam has money, and I have money too. But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to continue unconditionally giving to my family after realizing I’m just being treated like an ATM. 7 I coughed: “Mom, Dad! Actually, there’s something I haven’t dared to tell you.” My parents suddenly got a little nervous. “In the first half of the year, the salon brought in a batch of new equipment. As a result, that batch was sued for patent infringement by a medical device company this year. The equipment has been seized, and I’ve lost over $150,000. The salon’s cash flow is having some problems. Mom, Dad, can you lend me some money? Once I turn things around, I’ll pay you back immediately!” The atmosphere at the dinner table instantly plummeted. My mom spoke first: “How could you lose so much? Hasn’t your salon always been very profitable? $150,000! How could you be so careless!” My dad’s tone sank: “We haven’t even figured out this car loan yet, where would the family have spare cash to fill your hole? Besides, doing business requires stability, what are you doing messing around blindly!” My mom’s tone carried a bit of blame: “If I had known you were going to mess around like this, I should have just made you work a stable 9-to-5 job.” “I didn’t want this either. I thought I could make more money so I could help out more when the family needed it in the future. Who knew I’d lose this much.” I tried hard to squeeze out a few tears: “The salon hasn’t had many customers lately, and the employees’ salaries are suffocating me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been so nervous about the lottery last time—if I really drew it, what would I use to buy it?” I looked at my parents with expectant eyes: “I just… I really have no other choice but to ask you guys. After all, you’re my own parents. I can’t exactly borrow from strangers, right?” “It’s not that Mom and Dad are heartless, but we only have a little bit of retirement money. If we take it out and give it to you now, what happens if one of us gets sick or has an accident? Who will take care of us? Can’t you be considerate of Mom and Dad’s difficulties?” Hearing this, my heart went completely cold. I picked up my bag and said coldly: “Alright Mom, Dad, I understand. I have things to do, so I’ll leave first.” Seeing my attitude, my mom suddenly stood up: “Hey, why are you getting angry…” I ignored her and slammed the door as I left. When I got to the parking lot, I realized I forgot my car keys and had to turn back to get them. 8 Just as I reached the elevator lobby, I ran into my parents and the others. They didn’t see me, so I quickly hid to the side. My brother said: “Mom, Dad! I kept winking at you, why didn’t you see it? Why were you so definitive at the dinner table! Her in-laws are so rich, would they really just watch her salon go bankrupt? Great, now you’ve completely pissed her off!” Chloe also complained: “Exactly! Mom, Dad, you always said people need to be a little strategic. You have to act like you’re treating everyone equally so Harper is willing to help us out. How could you lose your cool first?” “Shh! Do you want to die? Why are you still calling her Harper Dawn!” My mom hit my sister. My mom then turned and scolded my dad, saying he made the lottery too obvious. How could the expensive items coincidentally always be drawn by me? My dad retorted, telling them to stop acting smart after the fact. “Right, Dad, your lottery app definitely has a problem. We need to change to a different one.” Chloe agreed: “Exactly, it almost scared me to death that day.” “Think of a way to apologize to her, otherwise it’ll be even more impossible to expect to get money out of her in the future. You guys are terrible teammates. I was hoping to checkmate her today and make her pay the car loan, now there’s no chance!” My mom affectionately patted him: “Anyway, we already transferred the car money to you, stop nagging.” That’s when it dawned on me. No wonder my brother bought the car so quickly. At this time, Chloe started whining to my mom again: “You bought Tyler a car, when are you buying me one?” “Wait a little longer. Let’s see if her salon is really going to close. If it really closes, she’ll probably still have a lot of money left over from selling the business. We’ll think of a way to get some more money from her then.” Watching the back of this happy family of four, I felt both angry and heartbroken. They didn’t care what would happen to my salon or what would happen to me; they only blindly thought about how to extort a little more. 9 When I got home, Liam was looking at me with a wicked smile. “How was it? Did I win the bet, hahaha! You didn’t manage to borrow any money, did you, hahahaha!” Liam laughed so hard he rolled on the bed. I picked up my phone and transferred $7,000 to him. Seeing my desolate expression, my husband panicked a little. “What’s wrong?” I sniffled, suppressing the soreness in my chest: “I just feel like the first thirty years of my life have been a joke.” He took a tissue and wiped the corners of my eyes: “Don’t say that. It’s because you’re kind that you were fooled by their ‘fairness’ for so long.” I suddenly started crying loudly. “Honey, don’t scare me! Don’t cry, okay, okay, I’ll give the money back to you, and I’ll give you another $7,000.” I didn’t speak, just kept crying. He had to hold me, gently patting my shoulder. He waited until my emotions stabilized. I asked Liam: “What kind of person do you think I am?” He was stunned: “What do you mean? You are the most beautiful! Most kind! Most gentle fairy wife in the world!” I wiped my tears: “I care for my family, I honor my parents. When our family was struggling financially when I was little, as the middle child, I always worked hard to help my parents out, wanting to make things easier for them. I even worked part-time and used student loans for college. Why do they only treat me as a machine they can bleed dry?” My husband sighed: “Honey, do you know what your biggest problem is when dealing with your family of origin?” 10 I talked a lot with my husband and figured out a lot of things. How people treat you depends on where your own bottom line is. If you keep letting others frantically test your limits and push further, then you will only keep retreating step by step. In the end, the person who suffers will always be you.

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The first time I went to the preschool to pick up my daughter. I happily strapped her into the car, ready to head home. Until she shrank into her seat and whispered: “Mommy, are we not living in the tiny house anymore?” I froze. When had our family ever lived in a “tiny house”? I locked eyes with her, and the next second, I let out a piercing scream. I sprinted frantically back to the preschool gates, colliding straight into a woman who was looking around in a panicked frenzy—and who looked exactly like me. 01 Whenever I saw news stories about careless parents taking home the wrong kid, I used to laugh. If you can’t even recognize your own flesh and blood, you don’t deserve to be a parent! But I never, in a million years, imagined it would happen to me. I had become the exact type of careless parent I used to despise! Holding the child tightly, I hurriedly opened the car door. As I unbuckled her from the car seat, I couldn’t help but stare at her again. “Seriously, how do you look so much like my Lily?!” Except for being a little skinnier—which made her face look a bit smaller and her eyes a bit larger—her features were practically identical to my daughter’s. Not to mention, she was wearing the exact same yellow sundress, sitting obediently in the car seat. She was a dead ringer for Lily! If she hadn’t whispered that question to me. I genuinely wouldn’t have realized she wasn’t my child. Mia was a bit shy. She peeked at me, her little body tense, but she spoke in a soft, sweet voice, “Miss, you and my mommy look alike too.” “But you’re a little bit prettier than my mommy.” I didn’t think much of it, assuming it was just innocent kid talk. I affectionately pinched her little cheek. “Sweetheart, you are too cute. I almost don’t want to give you back.” The little girl’s eyes widened in horror. Her mouth dropped open, and she hurriedly grabbed my hand. “No, Miss, you can’t! Mommy can’t live without me.” Mia looked like she was about to burst into tears, which only made me smile softer. I quickly comforted her, promising over and over that I was taking her straight back to her mother. As I pulled back up to the preschool, I was on the phone with Lily’s homeroom teacher. I hung up and helped Mia out of the car. As soon as her feet hit the pavement, a woman standing a few yards away spotted us. She was wearing faded, ragged clothes, smelled faintly of grease, and had messy, unkempt hair. She looked absolutely frantic. The moment her eyes landed on the child in my arms, she lost whatever control she had left and sprinted toward us, snatching Mia from me in a heartbeat! I was violently shoved against the side of my SUV. Her rough, desperate movements left a few red scratches on my wrist that stung sharply. “Hey! Why did you shove me?!” She used so much force she actually hurt me! I hissed in pain, my temper flaring up. Naturally, my tone wasn’t the friendliest. The woman holding Mia didn’t even look at me. She was frantically checking the child from head to toe. Only after confirming she was completely unharmed did she finally break down, sobbing uncontrollably while clutching the little girl. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, baby. Mommy got off work late, I almost lost you.” Her voice was incredibly raspy and coarse, grating on the ears. I frowned. Realizing she was just a mother terrified out of her mind, and remembering that I was the one who had mistakenly taken her child and caused this panic, my anger deflated. I felt a wave of guilt. “Look, I am so, so sorry.” I stepped closer carefully, reaching out to pat her shoulder and apologize. “Your daughter just looks exactly like mine, I accidentally…” My words died in my throat the second the woman turned her face toward me. My breath hitched. Even my heartbeat involuntarily skipped a few beats. Because she looked exactly like an older, weathered version of me! 02 I grabbed Lily from the teachers and invited Mia and her mother into my car. Sarah held Mia tightly in the backseat, radiating nervous, awkward energy. That was, until my daughter Lily hopped into the car, her pretty pigtails bouncing, and sat right next to Mia. Two little girls with practically identical faces stared at each other, wide-eyed. Even Sarah, who was so tense her whole body was rigid, couldn’t help but press her lips together and smile. “I wasn’t lying, was I?” I smiled, looking back at her from the driver’s seat. “My daughter and your daughter look exactly alike. That’s why I made the mistake.” Sarah let out a tiny, mosquito-like “Mhm.” The two kids, however, hit it off instantly. They took turns poking each other’s cheeks, touching each other’s hair, and playing with each other’s hands, occasionally letting out gasps of amazement. “You’re really pretty.” “You are too.” “We’re both super pretty, right?” “We sure are.” The two little girls spoke in soft, sweet voices, totally pleased with themselves. It melted my heart just listening to them. I kept glancing at Sarah through the rearview mirror. Seeing her turn her head, looking at Lily and Mia with a face full of absolute maternal warmth, I felt a strange shift in my chest. Originally, I just wanted to treat her to a nice dinner at a high-end restaurant to formally apologize. But a moment ago, when I saw Sarah’s profile, I completely changed my mind. At the intersection, I flipped my turn signal and headed straight for my family’s estate. Bringing Sarah and her daughter home sent shockwaves through the entire Montgomery household. That night, even my grandparents, who lived in the suburbs, rushed over. The whole family circled around Sarah, who was so terrified she couldn’t even speak. They looked at her from every angle. “It’s her, it has to be!” My grandmother leaned heavily on her cane, peering through her reading glasses. She got so close her face was almost touching Sarah’s. “They look like they were carved from the exact same mold!” Sarah smiled awkwardly, trying to shrink backward. But she was already pressed flat against the sofa cushions. There was nowhere left to hide! My mother grabbed Sarah’s incredibly rough, calloused hands, her lips trembling as she inspected them over and over. Sarah turned pale from panic. She tried to pull her hands back, but my mom held on tight. Left with no choice, Sarah struggled to open her mouth. “Um, I really shouldn’t intrude any longer.” “Mia and I… we should get going.” “Absolutely not!” My grandfather sat at the head of the room, his booming, authoritative voice making Sarah jump in her seat. “There are no coincidences like this in the world! We are going to investigate this, step by step, until we have the truth!” “You and your daughter are staying right here with us tonight!” Sarah was so intimidated she just blinked, completely stripped of the courage to say no. Late that night, my father pulled some strings and had a private physician come to the estate to draw Sarah’s blood. The next morning, the expedited DNA results arrived. Sarah was a Montgomery! In simpler terms: She was my twin sister! 03 Years ago, my mother gave birth to twins in a rundown rural clinic during a horrible storm. The first baby came out and the staff declared her stillborn. They took her away to be “disposed of.” I was the second baby. Medical care back then in that town was terrible, and my mother’s health was already frail. Plus, we were two months premature. Before the delivery, the doctors warned my parents that the babies likely wouldn’t survive. So, at the time, no one questioned the first baby’s “death.” They thought it was a miracle that I had survived at all. No one ever suspected that the other baby had lived too. Except, she was passed around by human traffickers and sold deep into an impoverished backwoods town. She survived like a resilient weed in the middle of nowhere. She hardly received any education and never went to high school. Eventually, she was unceremoniously married off to the biological son of the family that bought her, and she gave birth to a daughter. Her so-called husband was a lazy, abusive deadbeat who refused to work, and any money he did scrounge up was spent on drinking and gambling. Left with no choice, Sarah worked herself to the bone doing odd jobs just to pay for her daughter’s schooling. If Lily hadn’t been put on a waitlist for an elite private pre-K, forcing me to temporarily enroll her in a normal preschool nearby… and if I hadn’t picked up the wrong kid… Sarah and I probably would have never crossed paths in this lifetime. My heart ached. Overwhelmed with complex emotions, I hugged Sarah tightly. Sarah wasn’t used to this kind of affection. Her body went stiff, freezing in place like a statue. Finally, I pulled back and said gently, “Sister, why don’t you move in with me? I’ll take the fourth floor, and you can have the third floor.” “The third floor is completely renovated. It has a walk-in closet, a study, and a children’s bedroom. Please, don’t be a stranger, this is your home.” Sarah’s face flushed bright red, and she frantically shook her head. “No, I can’t do that!” “You already live on the third floor. I can’t let you be inconvenienced just because I showed up.” Hearing her words, my heart twisted painfully. A sour ache built in my throat. This wasn’t like the typical “swapped at birth” drama novels I read online. The true daughter had returned, and she was already thirty years old. She was a flower that had bloomed in the mud. Even though she had suffered unimaginable hardships her entire life. Her first instinct upon returning home was to make sure I wasn’t inconvenienced. How could someone be so endlessly kind? She was so good it made me want to hug her and sob. I was just about to tell her not to worry about me when a harsh, blaring ringtone from her pocket cut me off. She shot me an apologetic look and pressed answer on her cracked screen. The next second, a piercing, aggressive man’s voice exploded from the cheap phone speaker. “You stupid bitch, what random guy did you run off with last night?!” “Was his bed that comfortable? Did he fuck you so hard you can’t even stand up?!” “You get your ass back here right fucking now! If I don’t see you before lunch, I’m going to hack you and that little bastard child to pieces!” He fired off a barrage of vile curses, not even waiting for Sarah to reply before hanging up with a violent click. I stared in disbelief, turning to see Sarah’s face drain of all color. “I… I have to go!” Sarah shot up from the couch, rushing toward the door in a panic. Because she was moving so frantically, she tripped over her own feet and nearly face-planted. I rushed forward to catch her, only to see her lips completely bloodless. She didn’t even notice my hands on her arms, just muttering to herself, “I have to get back fast!” My stomach dropped. A million terrifying thoughts raced through my head. I flipped my hands, gripping her rough, calloused fingers tightly, and said softly, “I’m going with you.” Sarah looked like she was struck by lightning. She snapped back to reality, her eyes slowly focusing on my face, absolute terror written across her features. “No! Absolutely not!” “You can’t come!” 04 Sarah fiercely rejected my proposal to go with her. I compromised, offering to just drive her there and wait in the car. She refused that too, shaking her head like a rattle drum. No matter what I said, she clenched her jaw and refused to budge. Left with no choice, I slowly let go of her hand. “Alright, fine. I won’t go. Be careful and come back soon.” Getting my confirmation, Sarah smiled in sheer relief and nodded. “I will.” I watched Sarah’s silhouette disappear out the front door. Half an hour after she left. I calmly pulled out my phone and dialed a number. “Hello, is this the preschool?” “Regarding the mix-up with Ms. Sarah’s child the other day, I feel incredibly guilty and would like to visit her home to apologize in person.” “Could you provide me with her home address?” Three minutes later, I had Sarah’s address in my hand. Before starting the car, I thought about the absolute lack of human decency in that man’s voice on the phone. I paused. Without hesitation, I called for three of the family’s private security guards to follow me. As it turned out, that was the smartest decision I ever made. Because the second I parked my car outside Sarah’s rundown apartment complex, I could hear the sound of things shattering and crashing from the floor above. Mixed in with the noise was a man’s shrill, unhinged screaming. And the heavy scrape of wooden chairs being thrown to the floor. Even though I didn’t hear a woman screaming or crying. My right eyelid twitched violently with dread. As I sprinted up the stairs, I prayed over and over in my head. Please don’t let it be Sarah. Please don’t let it be her. When I reached the fourth floor with my guards, the door to apartment 402 was wide open. The entryway was covered in shattered beer bottles and trash. There was barely room to step. When I saw the scene inside, my blood ran cold. I crunched over the glass and rushed in, just in time to see Sarah lying on the floor, blood pouring from her head. Her so-called husband, Richard Vance, had a grotesque sneer on his face as he raised a heavy wooden chair, aiming right for her skull. “You cheap whore, you think you can cheat on me? You stayed out all night and you still dare to make excuses?!” “What bullshit rich relatives?! You’re a piece of trash that was thrown away the day you were born! You think you can dream of being a princess?!” “I’ll beat you to death! Let’s see you lie to me again! Bitch!” Richard swung the chair down with all his might. Sarah was beaten so badly she was curled into a tight ball, completely incapable of fighting back. She covered her head with her hands, trembling violently as she tried to dodge. But her back was against the wall. She had nowhere to go. Tears and blood mixed together, streaming down her face. Seeing her like that, a sharp, agonizing pain pierced my heart, and my eyes instantly went red. Unable to hold back for another second, I gritted my teeth, charged forward, and forcefully shoved Richard away. “Don’t you fucking touch her!” Richard clearly hadn’t expected a stranger to barge in and interfere while he was beating his wife. The irrational rage he had almost exhausted flared right back up. “I’m beating my own wife, what the fuck does it have to do with you?!” “You dare touch me? I’ll beat you too!” Richard regained his footing, his face flushed purple with rage. He let out a roar, raising the chair to smash it over my head. I shielded Sarah behind me, staring him down without a single ounce of fear. When Richard finally got a clear look at my face, he froze. 05 Richard wasn’t the brightest tool in the shed. But his hands were already in motion, and he couldn’t stop. A split second before the chair hit me. The three bodyguards, who had been waiting for my signal, surged into the room. Without a shred of mercy, one of them lifted his leg and delivered a brutal front kick squarely into Richard’s stomach! The force of that kick was dozens of times stronger than my shove. Richard was literally launched backward, crashing into the floor. His face contorted in absolute agony as he curled into a shrimp, hissing and groaning in pain. Another bodyguard rushed forward and drove a ruthless punch straight into his jaw. Before Richard could even scream, the third bodyguard pinned him, shoved a dirty sock into his mouth, and swiftly pinned his arms behind his back, completely immobilizing him. Once he was secured, I instantly turned around to check on Sarah. “Sister, are you okay?!” Seeing the blood seeping from her forehead, my heart felt like it was being sliced open. I frantically grabbed some tissues to stop the bleeding, but my hands were shaking so badly I accidentally poked near her eye. I apologized frantically, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Sarah didn’t react at all. She maintained the exact same position, arms wrapped tightly over her head. Her eyes were entirely glazed over. She let the blood run into her eyes, just mumbling the same sentence over and over. Her voice was so quiet I couldn’t hear it. I had to lean my ear right next to her mouth to catch it: “Don’t hit me, I’m sorry, please don’t hit me!” My nose stung. I gripped her hand tightly, the tears finally overflowing and streaming down my face. This reflexive, deeply ingrained begging… God only knew how many vicious beatings she had suffered to develop this kind of trauma response. The more I thought about it, the more devastated I felt—and the more furious I became. I marched over to where Richard was pinned to the floor, gritted my teeth, and slapped him across the face twice with all my strength. Richard glared at me, his eyes practically shooting fire. He thrashed wildly, only stopping when one of the guards pressed a knee harder into his spine. Looking at his disgusting, bloated face made my blood boil! “Tie him up, break one of his legs, and call the police!” “You guys don’t need to worry about the fallout, I’ll have my lawyers handle everything.” I didn’t care what charges they used, I was going to send this bastard to prison! “If I don’t get you locked up for eight to ten years, my name isn’t Harper Montgomery!” I spat in his face, delivering the ultimate threat. But just as the words left my mouth, someone grabbed my ankle. I jumped, looking down to see Sarah’s pleading eyes. “No!” she choked out, her eyes brimming with tears. “Harper, I am begging you, please don’t call the cops!” My body froze. I thought I had misheard her. I dropped to my knees, trying to lift her off the floor. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t ever let him hurt you again.” What kind of pathetic loser was this guy? A coward in the outside world, but a tyrant at home who only felt powerful by beating his wife. Men like him didn’t even deserve to be called human! “An animal like him deserves to catch a bullet!” I spoke through gritted teeth. Just the thought of Sarah being bullied by this monster her entire life made me want to strangle him with my bare hands. Hearing my words, Sarah suddenly became frantic. She wildly pulled her hands out of my grasp. And then, I finally heard her clearly. “Don’t call the police!” I stared at her, stunned, looking into her bloodshot eyes. “Actually, when he’s not hitting me, he’s very good to me.” “He’s not a bad person, he’s just… he was just having a bad day today.” She spoke faster and faster, her tears streaming down her bruised, swollen face. “And he’s Mia’s father. I can’t… I can’t let him go to jail.” “Please don’t call the cops, Harper, I’m begging you. I’ll get on my knees!” As she spoke, she forced her battered body up onto her knees and, without hesitation, slammed her forehead against the floor, bowing to me over and over. Even though the floor was covered in trash and shards of broken glass, she didn’t stop. Looking at Sarah in that state, my heart plummeted. A profound, suffocating sense of helplessness washed over me. The exact scenario I hated and feared the most was happening right in front of me. 06 Sarah’s injuries were severe. I took her to a private hospital for a full-body workup. I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t forced the tests, but the results showed she wasn’t just injured—her body was completely broken down. She was covered in old, overlapping scars and poorly healed fractures. Looking at the medical report, I suppressed my rage and let out a cynical laugh. “This is what you call ‘very good to you’?” So good that new bruises were layered over old ones? So good that he was fat and well-fed while she was severely malnourished? “He really used to be good to me.” Sarah bit her lip, whispering: “Before, he used to save his biscuits to give to me.” “How long ago was ‘before’?” Sarah paused, furrowing her brows in deep thought for a long time, before carefully answering, “When we were five.” A biscuit from when she was five years old, and she held onto it until now?! A surge of white-hot anger shot straight to my brain. I was absolutely furious! Looking at Sarah sitting in the hospital bed, staring at me with a blank, confused expression… I wanted to take the medical file and smash it into her face. I wanted to violently shake her shoulders and empty the water sloshing around in her brain! I truly could not comprehend what was going through her head. Unable to vent my explosive anger, I just took several deep breaths, desperately trying to push the fury down. But Sarah, completely oblivious to my mood, actually asked with genuine concern, “Is he… is he okay?” “Your men didn’t actually hurt him, did they?” I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I slammed the medical report onto the table with a deafening smack, the rage I had accumulated all day finally erupting. “He beat you into this state, and you’re worried about him?!” “Are you out of your goddamn mind?!” I screamed at her, startling her so badly she jumped. She turned pale, gripping the bedsheets, stuttering, unable to form a single sentence in her defense. Thankfully, our parents arrived just in time and quickly pulled us apart. Otherwise, I was genuinely terrified I would lose my mind and slap some sense into her. How could anyone be this foolish? She was abused, and she just swallowed it silently. How could she be beaten half to death and still worry if her abuser was in pain?! What kind of person does that?! I was still seething. After my dad ushered me out into the hallway, I kicked the metal bench by the door. The bench didn’t budge, but my foot throbbed in agony, which only made me angrier! Right then, my mom walked out and patted my shoulder. “Alright, stop being so angry.” I pressed my lips together, refusing to speak. My mom sighed, not pushing me too hard, but softly saying, “Your sister is not like you.” “We sent you to the best private schools since you were little, and then to a university overseas.” “But your sister? She grew up working in the fields. She only learned what a TV or a computer was when she was sent away to do manual labor to earn money for her adoptive family.” My breath hitched. I listened as my mom sighed again. “The things you take for granted, the concepts that are second nature to you… to her, they are incomprehensible puzzles.” My body froze in place. The blazing anger in my chest instantly receded like the tide. “So, don’t rush her. Take it slow.” “And please, don’t be mad at her. She has lived far too bitter a life.” My mom patted the back of my hand. I lowered my eyes and let out a quiet “Okay.” My parents brought Sarah back to the estate, gave her and Mia their own suite, and told her to focus on resting and not to overthink things. Sarah tried to refuse, but when my mom hugged her and started crying, Sarah stiffened and couldn’t bring herself to say no. So, she naturally settled in. However, she was incredibly tense, confining herself to the fourth floor and refusing to come down freely. Occasionally, when we crossed paths downstairs, she would tense up like a mouse seeing a cat. She didn’t dare speak to me, didn’t even dare look at me, and would scurry away the second she could. I hadn’t figured out how to act around her yet, either. So I just turned a blind eye to her behavior, pretending I didn’t notice. My mom got anxious seeing us avoid each other. She didn’t dare push Sarah, so she constantly nagged me to go upstairs and apologize to her. I refused. “I don’t think I did anything wrong. Why shouldn’t she be the one apologizing to me?” I felt entirely justified, making my mom so mad she kept pinching my arm. But I never expected… That Sarah would actually come to me to apologize.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “403337”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

There was a BBQ joint downstairs that stayed open until dawn every single day. Drunken shouting, blaring music, and obnoxious noise kept the entire neighborhood awake. When the residents went to the owner to demand an explanation, the guy acted like an absolute thug, totally unreasonable. So, I printed a notice and stuck it right on his storefront: “If you’re afraid of noise, move to a mansion. Otherwise, poor people just need to learn how to endure.” That single piece of paper made the entire apartment complex explode. 1 A passing homeowner quickly snapped a photo of the notice and dropped it into the HOA group chat. Everyone was already exhausted and agitated from the noise. Nobody expected the owner to be so shamelessly arrogant. Furious, the men from over a dozen households gathered together and blocked the entrance of the BBQ joint, demanding answers. The angriest was the guy living on the second floor. He kicked over a folding table in a fit of rage, pointing right at the owner’s nose. “You dare say that to us? You think we’re pushovers? Believe me, I’ll smash this place to pieces! I can afford to pay for the damages!” The owner, Frank, looked completely bewildered, having no idea what was going on. It wasn’t until his wife—who lived in the apartment complex—sent him a picture of the notice that he understood. Seeing that he had thoroughly provoked the wrath of the crowd, Frank immediately swore he didn’t post the notice. He also promised to cut his hours and close by midnight. Only then did the angry mob disperse. I had been watching the whole spectacle from my upstairs window. Seeing Frank bowing and scraping like a coward was incredibly satisfying. 2 This wasn’t my first clash with their family. They were the typical “Happy Family” type, with matching cartoon family avatars for their group chat profiles. They were the absolute tyrants of the HOA group chat and the ultimate troublemakers in the school parent groups. Their life motto was to make themselves happy by inconveniencing everyone else. The only reason they could open a BBQ joint in a residential complex was because they threw such massive tantrums. They were so loud and obnoxious that the HOA didn’t dare cross them, resorting to giving them perks just to shut them up. Otherwise, who could stand them picking fights every other day? I happened to live right above them, in apartment 602. And because of that, I got a front-row seat to their unhinged audacity. The day I moved in, they saw me packing with the door open. Frank’s wife, Brenda, swaggered right into my apartment, bold as brass. Without a single word, she handed me a printed piece of paper and walked out, her nose stuck in the air. I looked closely at the contents. Holy crap: “Building Rules: My kid has to do homework at night. No cooking in the building from 6 PM to 10 PM. Anyone who turns on a range hood and makes noise, I’ll smash your door in! My wife has a weak nervous system. All renovations are strictly banned. Not even on weekends. If a contractor comes, I’ll break their legs! No cats or dogs allowed in the building. Get rid of them within a week, or I’ll throw them out myself! No using the elevator after 10 PM. My family sleeps light, and the doors opening and closing is too loud!” And that was just the first few rules. The entire page was packed with over seventy ridiculous demands. It was practically the Code of Hammurabi for psychopaths. 3 A lot of people couldn’t handle this family and simply sold their condos and moved away. When I was buying the place, I noticed how cheap it was and asked the previous owner what happened. After some prodding, he told me about the nightmare tenants downstairs. Instead of worrying, I was thrilled. Because honestly? I’m a bit of a menace myself. I’ve never been the well-behaved type. I fought guys who started rumors about me and went scorched-earth on teachers who blindly protected their favorite students. When I grew up, my parents couldn’t stand my chaotic energy anymore, so they gave me a lump sum of cash to move out. I figured if my neighbors were nice people, I’d have to suppress my crazy side. Who knew I’d struck gold! Before I could even finish reading all the absurd rules on the paper, Frank posted a massive paragraph in the HOA group chat: “Listen up, everyone! Just got back from the doctor, and my wife is pregnant! To ensure the baby is born healthy, I’m announcing some new rules. Anyone who disobeys, don’t blame me for getting ugly! All WiFi in the building must be turned off at 9 PM. Radiation causes birth defects! No voice chat while playing video games at home. No keyboard or mouse clicking sounds either. If you wake my wife, I’ll cut all your internet cables! The use of any perfume, makeup, or skincare products is banned. These rules take effect today. Disobey at your own risk!” Wow. Just blatant dictator demands. Like hell I was going to indulge him. I immediately went online and ordered a heavy-duty mobile hotspot. Same-day delivery was fast. I plugged it in and changed the network name to: “Nuclear-Grade Ultra Radiation Fetus-Destroying Signal.” That very night, Frank went absolutely feral with voice memos in the group chat. Message after message, completely hysterical: “Which sick bastard is doing this?!” “Step out if you have the guts! Watch me kill you!” “Turn it off! Turn it off right now! If the radiation hurts my wife and kid, I’ll take down this whole building!” The group chat was dead silent. Nobody made a peep. But I knew plenty of people were secretly enjoying the show. I ordered some takeout, and just as I started eating, I heard violent pounding on doors downstairs. “Open up! I need to inspect your apartment!” Frank’s roar echoed viciously through the hallway. He was actually going door to door. I immediately pressed myself against my door, holding my breath and watching the show. Frank was like a headless fly, running up and down the halls. But he couldn’t find the culprit. He finally stopped at my door and pounded on it relentlessly. I casually pulled it open. “Can I help you?” His eyes were bloodshot. He practically shoved his phone into my face. “Is this WiFi network yours?” I shook my head, feigning complete innocence. “No, Frank. My WiFi is named ‘Mess With Me And You Die’, see?” Frank looked at my phone, cursed under his breath, and stormed off. Of course he couldn’t find it. My mobile hotspot was battery-powered. I had just tossed it behind a utility box in the stairwell. He was never going to locate it. After Frank went back home, he fired off another barrage of voice messages in the chat. “Fine! Real nice! You want to play dirty?!” “I dare you to never turn it off! Don’t let me catch you!” “When I find out who’s doing this, I’m going to slaughter your whole family!” “Still not admitting it? Then listen up! For every day that trash network stays on, my BBQ joint is staying open until dawn! You’re all going to suffer!” “Nobody is getting any sleep!” The group chat remained silent. But I knew the number of people secretly cheering had skyrocketed. Unfortunately, a single person rebelling wasn’t enough. Frank’s retaliation hit everyone right where it hurt. From that day on, the BBQ joint stayed open until 2 or 3 AM. This was a paradise for all the local bachelors and drunks. Every night, they ate, drank, and sang loudly right below our building, making it impossible to sleep. A group of fed-up residents created a private side-chat to vent about the family’s tyranny. It turned out those 70+ rules weren’t just bluffs. One family upstairs was just fixing their balcony drain, and Frank’s family splashed red paint all over their door! The sidewalk and fire lanes in front of the shop were treated as their private property. Nobody else was allowed to use them. Brenda was like a walking nuclear weapon. They never paid HOA fees, yet she forced the complex’s janitorial staff to clean the greasy mess inside and outside their restaurant. If anyone dared complain, she would block their door and curse out their ancestors for hours. Not to mention their bratty kid. He threw rocks at cars, wiped boogers on the elevator buttons, and spat on people walking by. His parents always defended him, their favorite catchphrase being, “Why are you arguing with a child?” It was a history of blood and tears for the older residents. But in the end, nobody dared to actually confront them. After all, everyone had elderly parents and young kids to worry about. Fighting with psychopaths would only end badly for them. Well, well, well. Looks like it was time for me to take the stage. 4 After that printed notice incident, the BBQ family kept their heads down for a while. One day, I was curled up on the couch watching a show when someone started smashing my door. “Open the door! You bastard! Get the hell out here!” I didn’t open it. I looked through the peephole and saw Frank’s face, twisted and deformed with rage. “Who is it?” “Keep playing dumb! Keep playing fcking dumb!” He slammed his fist hard against the door panel. “I checked the security footage! The one who posted that notice the other day was you, you piece of trash!” Oh, he finally figured it out. Slower than I expected. I let out a scoff, kept the security chain fastened, and cracked the door open. “Wow, it took you this long to find out, Frank? With that kind of efficiency, no wonder you’re stuck running a trashy BBQ joint.” Frank tried to force the door open, but the chain held tight. He could only slam his shoulder uselessly against the metal. “I’ll fcking kill you! You have a death wish!” I taunted him. “Just to let you know, I posted the notice, and I was the one who changed the WiFi name to the Fetus Deleter. You mad? Are your lungs about to explode?” Frank completely lost his mind. Like an enraged wild animal, he kicked and smashed my security door. Bang! Bang! Bang! The deafening noise echoed through the hallway, making the entire floor vibrate. “You just wait!” He finally got tired of hitting the door. “If I don’t drive you out of this neighborhood, my name isn’t Frank!” With that, he stomped down the stairs. I casually shut the door and locked it. Wait? Alright. I’ll be waiting. 5 3:00 AM the next morning. A massive, muffled booming sound erupted. It shook the floorboards so hard they vibrated. I jolted upright in bed, completely disoriented. The noise was continuous, a deep, heavy bass that pierced right through the walls and floors. Even the window panes were rattling. This wasn’t just a standard floor-thumper. This was a professional-grade subwoofer, pressed flush against the ceiling. That was a genuinely dirty move. And calling the cops wouldn’t work. Frank and his family had definitely checked into a hotel for the night. When the police arrived, he could just use an app to remotely turn it off. They wouldn’t catch him in the act. Besides, I despised relying on the cops for things like this. But I had to admit, the effect was devastating. Covering my head with a pillow did nothing. The bass drilled into my ears from every direction. In less than ten minutes, my temples were throbbing, and I felt so nauseous I wanted to throw up. The neighborhood group chat exploded: “Holy crap! Is it an earthquake?” “What the hell is going on?! Who’s blasting bass in the middle of the night? My kid is terrified!” Frank quickly admitted it in the chat: “Just testing out some new audio equipment. There might be a little vibration. Everyone just endure it for a few days.” Then he sent another message: “I can’t help it if it’s keeping you awake. If you want to blame someone, blame that troublemaker in 602! She brought this on herself, now she can suffer the consequences!” He pointed the spear right at me. People started tagging me in the chat: “@602, what’s going on? Can you fix this?” “@602, we can’t take this anymore. Did you provoke Frank? Just apologize to him and ask him to turn it off! Don’t make us suffer because of you!” It seemed Frank wanted to use the collective resentment of the entire complex to crush me. A bunch of cowards acting like lapdogs for a BBQ owner. I sneered and typed rapidly: “@ExtremeBBQ, if you want to test your equipment, take your time.” “Also, you better not turn it off. I was just looking for a good lullaby.” 6 Was I going to fight him with sonic warfare? Too low-level, and too noisy for me. If I actually did that and things escalated, he would just push the blame onto me, playing right into his hands. If I was going to play, I was going to do something much more disgusting, much more lingering, and specifically targeted at him. Early the next morning, I drove straight to the largest farmer’s market on the outskirts of the city. I stopped at a stall selling fermented goods. “Boss, give me a bottle of your most pungent stinky tofu brine, and a jar of fermented fish juice.” When I got the goods, I popped the lid slightly. The smell was ungodly. I paid and left without hesitation. When I got home, the subwoofer bombardment had already stopped. Taking advantage of the fact that Frank’s family was catching up on sleep, I tipped the two jars of biochemical warfare sideways and placed them right under my window—directly above their bedroom and living room windows. I cracked the lids open just a fraction. The juices dripped down, drop by agonizing drop. Instantly, the stench acted like an invisible poison gas, seeping right down through their window cracks. After setting the trap, I locked my balcony door and went back to sleep. The results were immediate. Brenda bombarded the group chat with voice memos, gagging between words: “Which sick psycho dumped garbage juice down our windows?! It smells like death! We can’t even open the doors! My kid is throwing up!” She targeted me directly: “@602, is it you, you bitch?! Clean up that smell right now! Or I swear I’ll kill you!” I casually typed back: “@HappyFamily, Brenda, you need proof before you speak. I was sleeping perfectly fine in my apartment. What does your smelly window have to do with me? Maybe your sewer pipe exploded?” “Call the cops? Sure, go ahead. When the officers get here, they can check out how well your new ‘audio equipment’ is testing. Boom, boom, boom—the whole building heard it.” The group chat went quiet. The stench was unbearable, but they had no proof I did it, and it only affected their unit. Meanwhile, that infuriating subwoofer had demonstrably tortured the entire building! Frank went completely radio silent, but I wasn’t about to let it go. That was just the appetizer. His restaurant was his lifeblood. Around 4 or 5 AM, shortly after the BBQ joint closed. I put on a disguise, hopped on a rented bike, and casually rolled past his storefront. From my backpack, I grabbed several huge handfuls of a mixed birdseed blend—millet and cracked corn—and scattered it evenly across the sidewalk, the front steps, the shop’s awning, and even tossed some into the bed of his supply truck. I rode away, a silent phantom in the night. For the first two days, nothing much happened. Starting on the third day, people passing by in the morning started posting photos in the chat: “Oh my god! Why is there so much bird poop in front of Extreme BBQ? It’s a blanket of white!” “Disgusting! You can’t even step anywhere!” “Is Frank going to clean this up? Does he even want to do business?” Frank assumed it was a freak accident and replied that he’d clean it up. That afternoon, right before opening, he spent hours with a power hose, exhausting himself to get it clean. However, the fourth day. The fifth day. Every single morning, a dense, targeted layer of bird droppings precisely carpet-bombed the ground and sign of his shop. It looked like the place had been hit by an airstrike. Frank’s cleaning speed couldn’t keep up with the frequency and volume of the avian air drops. Photos flooded the neighborhood chat. “Holy crap! Frank, your shop is getting carpet-bombed by birds!” “That is so vile!” “Frank, did you commit some terrible sin? Even the birds can’t stand you!” Frank finally caught on. He frantically tagged me in the chat: “@602! Was it you scattering birdseed in front of my shop, you shady rat?! Playing these dirty tricks!” I instantly replied with an innocent-sounding voice memo: “@ExtremeBBQ, Frank, your imagination is running wild! Why would I do that?” “Who says it’s birdseed? Maybe your BBQ is just so delicious it perfectly suits the birds’ tastes?” Then I twisted the knife: “Besides, birds pooping is an Act of God. The police can’t exactly arrest a pigeon. You better hire a professional cleaning crew, otherwise you’re going to go out of business.” Frank didn’t say another word. The subwoofer downstairs never played again. Standing on my balcony, gazing at the absolute mess of a BBQ joint in the distance, I felt incredibly refreshed.

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For my boyfriend’s mom’s birthday, I gifted her a luxury La Mer skincare set. That very night, I found the exact same gift set listed for cheap on Facebook Marketplace by my boyfriend. I immediately bought it and confirmed the delivery the second I got it back! Then, I dialed my boyfriend’s number: “Hey babe, that heavy, solid gold bangle I hid inside the gift box… did it fit your mom’s wrist okay?” 1 I was mindlessly scrolling through Facebook Marketplace when a seller’s post caught my eye. [La Mer Luxury Skincare Bundle. Unopened, 100% authentic, brand new. Need cash ASAP! Only $400!] At that price, it had to be a knockoff, right? I had just bought that exact bundle at the department store yesterday for nearly $800! But wait… the longer I looked at the photos, the more familiar it seemed. Wasn’t this the exact set I gifted to Brad’s mother? Even the luxury gift bag was the one I specifically picked out. The silk ribbon on top was tied exactly the way I had tied it. I clicked on the seller’s profile to check the details. ID: B-Rad. Location: Los Angeles, my exact city. I opened a direct message chat. [Hi, is this still available? Is it authentic? Why so cheap?] “B-Rad” instantly replied with an audio message. “Hey gorgeous, 100% authentic. It was a gift from someone else, hasn’t even been opened yet!” That voice… it was unmistakably Brad, the boyfriend I had been madly in love with for the past three months. I scrolled through his seller history and discovered something even more sickening. Over the past few months, every single valuable gift I had given him had been listed and sold on this page. Thinking back on our three-month relationship… If it wasn’t his birthday coming up, it was his little sister’s birthday. Just last week, he wouldn’t stop dropping hints in my ear about how his mom’s birthday was right around the corner. Turns out, he was just using me as a personal ATM to liquidate goods for cash! In that moment, I wanted to confront him directly and dump him on the spot. But on second thought, that would be letting him off way too easy. With a smirk, I changed the delivery address to my neighbor’s house. I used the name and phone number of my family’s housekeeper, Maria. Making sure there was nothing to tie the purchase back to me, I hit “Buy Now.” The moment the payment went through, a message popped up. [Awesome, you’re a fast buyer! Since we’re in the same city, I’ll just order an Uber Connect courier to drop it off right now!] [Make sure you hit “Confirm Receipt” on the app the second you get it!] I played along enthusiastically, while keeping my eyes glued to the tracking link. Watching the courier get closer and closer to my neighbor’s house, I quickly sent Maria next door to wait for the drop-off. Everything went smoothly. The luxury box was back in my hands. Even though I already knew it was the La Mer set I had bought for Brad’s mom, seeing it with my own eyes still felt like taking a blunt force object to the chest. The ribbon on the box was completely untouched. Every single crease was exactly how I had tied it. That piece of trash didn’t even care enough to open it. He just couldn’t wait to flip it for a quick buck! Right then, my phone buzzed with a Marketplace notification. “Hey gorgeous, I see it got delivered!” “Could you do me a huge favor and confirm the receipt on the app ASAP? I really need the cash!” I pointed my phone at the gift box and recorded a short video. [Hi there, I shook the box and heard something rattling inside. Did the glass bottles break?] In the video, I gently shook the box, strategically playing a pre-recorded glass-clinking sound effect from my iPad just out of frame. Brad totally panicked. He fired back three voice memos in a row, his tone filled with anxious rage. “It was in perfect condition when I handed it to the courier! No rattling at all! You must have broken it after you took it inside!” “You didn’t open it in front of the driver, so that’s on you! You need to hit confirm receipt right now!” “Let me tell you something, don’t even try to scam me or get a refund! The second that box left my hands, it was no longer my problem. Whether the bottles are shattered or there’s literal gold inside, it has nothing to do with me!” Perfect. That was exactly what I wanted to hear! I immediately hit “Confirm Receipt.” The second the $400 hit his account, the Marketplace chat displayed: [You have been blocked by this user.] That trash bag blocked me the second he got his money. That’s fine. I was absolutely certain that in about five minutes, he’d be crawling back like a pathetic dog, begging me. 2 I called Brad on FaceTime. The moment it connected, his eyes crinkled with absolute joy. “Hey babe, miss me already?” I smiled. “You look happy. Did something good happen?” Brad paused for a second, quickly fabricating an excuse. “Oh, we were just at the dinner table talking about some funny childhood memories. Just feeling nostalgic and happy!” I pressed on. “Did your mom like the gift I sent her?” The mention of the gift made Brad’s face instantly awkward. Behind him, I could see his mother, Mrs. Jenkins, and his younger sister, Maya, sitting on the couch. Both of them smirked with clear mockery on their faces. “Uh… Chloe, about that gift… my mom actually wasn’t too thrilled.” “She’s never been one to wear expensive creams and makeup. She’s not high-maintenance and obsessed with her looks like you are!” I quickly cut in. “Oh! Since she doesn’t like it, why don’t you bring the skincare set back to me?” Brad panicked the second he heard that. “Chloe, I can’t do that! Who takes back a gift after giving it?” “My mom already opened it and started using it! Even though she hates all those chemicals…” “…she wanted to give you face because it was from you!” “If anyone says you’re a bad girlfriend, I’ll be the first to defend you!” After saying that, Brad even turned around and gave his mom a pointed look. His mom forced a fake smile and nodded at the camera, but her eyes were full of disdain. Listening to his incredibly flawed, patched-together lies, I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud. Seeing that I was still in a “good mood,” Brad struck while the iron was hot. “Babe, next time, you really shouldn’t buy such impractical gifts!” “They cost a fortune, and they don’t hold their value at all!” “If we ever needed cash in an emergency, you can’t resell that stuff for anything… Not like…” I took the bait. “Not like what?” Brad’s mom immediately jumped into the frame. “Not like gold! Gold holds its value and even appreciates! It’s way more practical than a bunch of little jars and bottles!” Ah, now I completely understood! No wonder when I pulled out the luxury gift box at dinner, his mom’s initially glowing face instantly dropped. Hah. They were mad that my gift wasn’t something they could easily pawn for maximum cash. Since they were dropping hints about wanting gold, I figured I’d grant their wish right now! “You’re so right, Mrs. Jenkins! Gold definitely holds its value best!” “So, the solid gold bangle I put inside… does it fit? I hope you… liked it?” 3 Before I even finished my sentence, Brad jumped like he had been electrocuted. “Ah!!! What gold bangle?! You bought a gold bangle?!” I looked at the screen, curving my lips into a cute, playful smile. “Yeah! Didn’t your mom open the box already? Didn’t she see the heavy solid gold bangle inside?” Brad’s face drained of all color, turning a sickly pale. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. The two women behind him panicked just as hard, pacing frantically around the living room in circles. I could even faintly hear his mom hissing at his sister, Maya. “Why didn’t you open it and check?! How did you not see a gold bracelet inside?! You idiot!” Maya defended herself, looking incredibly wronged. “I told you I wanted to keep it to use! You and Brad insisted on selling it for cash! You said I didn’t deserve to use such expensive skincare!” “I wanted to open it to post on Instagram, but you guys wouldn’t let me break the plastic wrap! Now look what happened!” Brad clicked his tongue impatiently, and the mother-daughter duo finally shut their mouths. I pretended I didn’t hear a word of it, dragging out my words with fake concern. “Babe, what’s wrong~?” I elongated the syllables, dripping with just the right amount of innocent worry. “Does your mom not like it?” “It’s my fault, really!” I sighed softly, my tone laced with self-blame. “I just wanted to buy something with a heavy carat weight to show how much I respect her!” “But you know how it is… when the gold is too heavy, the bracelet can look a bit chunky and lose its delicate charm.” “If she really doesn’t like it, I’ll take her to the Cartier store tomorrow to exchange it for a different style!” “A 2.5-ounce solid gold bangle is pretty heavy. We could melt it down into a thinner bracelet, a necklace, and some earrings…” I was still speaking slowly and methodically when Brad abruptly interrupted me. His voice was trembling with uncontrollable panic. “Chloe, you… you put 2.5 ounces of solid gold inside that gift box?” “Why didn’t you tell me?! How do you even have that kind of money?!” I immediately put on a deeply wronged expression. “I used all the savings from my trust fund allowance! I just wanted to make a perfect impression on my future mother-in-law!” Then, I shifted gears, raising my voice in feigned shock. “Is the bracelet missing?! Did you guys lose it?!?” Dead silence on the other end of the video call. For a full thirty seconds. Finally, Brad’s mom, thinking on her feet, stammered out an excuse. “No… no, of course it’s not lost. I was just so focused on applying the face cream that I must not have noticed it!” I pretended to breathe a massive sigh of relief, patting my chest. “Oh, thank god. You scared me to death. As long as it’s not lost. That’s 2.5 ounces of 24-karat gold!” “At today’s market price, plus the jeweler’s crafting fee, that’s nearly $8,000!” “If it was really lost, I would have been sick to my stomach!” Saying that, I pulled out the actual receipt for a 2.5-ounce solid gold bangle and waved it at the camera. “Look, here! With taxes and fees, it came out to $8,450!” I even snapped a photo of the receipt and the picture I took of the bracelet at the jewelry counter, sending it to him in the chat. “Babe, look! Isn’t it gorgeous? It’s going to look so classy on your mom!” The truth was, the day I bought the skincare, I actually did go to the jewelry department next door and bought a $8,000 solid gold bangle. Except, that bracelet was a birthday present for my mother, whose birthday was next week. “Eight thousand… eight thousand dollars…” Brad looked like his soul had left his body, just muttering the number repeatedly. Mrs. Jenkins leaned in to look at the photo of the receipt, then frantically started pinching her precious son’s arm out of sheer anxiety. “Chloe, I gotta let you go. Maybe we just didn’t unpack the box all the way, we’ll go look!” Before I could even reply, the call was ruthlessly disconnected with a click. A second later, Maria’s phone started blowing up, and my Facebook Marketplace notifications went absolutely crazy. 4 [Hey!! Do you still have that La Mer bundle you just bought?! Please tell me you didn’t open it!] [I’ll pay you extra! Name your price! $1,000? No, $1,500! I’ll Venmo you right now!] [Where are you? I’ll come pick it up myself! I am begging you, please!] I stared at the screen, laughing so hard my stomach hurt. My fingers flew across the keyboard: [I was just about to open it when your messages distracted me!] He replied instantly, his voice memo literally cracking with tears: “I was being an asshole earlier! There’s something else inside that box! Something extremely important! My mom needs it desperately!” [What’s inside?] Silence for a solid ten seconds, before he sent a frantic, incoherent block of text: [It’s a cheap little trinket my girlfriend gave my mom!] [It’s not worth any money, but it has huge sentimental value!] [I’ll give you $2,000, please just give it back to me!] [If my girlfriend finds out I sold her gift online, she’ll break up with me for sure!] Brad kept heavily emphasizing that it was “cheap,” obviously terrified that the seller wouldn’t want to return it if they knew the real value. Seeing that I wasn’t replying, he panicked and spammed me: [What is wrong with you? Do you have no morals?] [Give it back right now. I have your address, do you think I won’t drive over there right now?!] [If you don’t return it, I’m calling the cops!] I calmly screenshotted the voice memo he had sent me earlier—“Whether there’s literal gold inside, it has nothing to do with me!”—and sent it back. [Call the cops? And tell them what? That I scammed you? Or that you pawned your girlfriend’s gift and now you have seller’s remorse?] The “Typing…” bubble danced on the screen for a long time before he finally sent one sentence: [I’m sorry. How much do you want?] I looked at the gift box sitting on my table—the one he had treated like garbage, but was now desperate to redeem—and typed a number: [$3,000!] I thought Brad might try to haggle, but he replied instantly: [Post the custom listing. I’m buying it!] Well, from his perspective, even paying $3,000 meant he’d still walk away with a net profit of over $5,000 once he retrieved the “gold.” I recorded a video. The camera slowly panned from the perfectly intact plastic wrap all the way down to the immaculately tied ribbon. Just to prove that I genuinely hadn’t opened it. Then, I ordered an Uber Connect courier and sent it right back to the address on his seller profile. While it was in transit, I purposely spammed Brad’s personal phone with a bunch of sweet texts, all of which went completely ignored: [Did your mom put the bracelet on? Does she love it?] [I guessed her wrist size, is it a good fit?] [Babe, why are you ignoring me? Are you super busy?]… I made sure to slip the Uber driver a $50 cash tip, specifically asking him to record a video of the exact moment he handed the package over to Brad. I also instructed the driver not to hand over the bag until Brad clicked “Confirm Receipt” on the Marketplace app in front of him. Cash in my account, box in his hands. When I told Brad these terms over the app, he agreed immediately. After all, for every second that box was out of his possession, he was probably having a heart attack. The courier was fast. In less than thirty minutes, the app showed “Delivered.” The second the notification popped up, Brad’s text finally came through on my personal phone: [Babe! My mom said she absolutely loves it. She said it’s the most beautiful gold bracelet she’s ever seen in her life!] 5 Seeing his text, I knew Brad hadn’t even opened the box yet. He was just rushing to appease me so I wouldn’t get suspicious. But that fake peace only lasted for exactly one second. The next second, my Facebook Marketplace inbox completely exploded. Brad spammed me with voice calls, video calls, and relentlessly blew up Maria’s phone number, all of which I swiftly rejected. Then, a tidal wave of vile, unhinged abuse flooded the chat. [You lying bitch! You said you didn’t open it! The gold bracelet is gone!] [Hand over the bracelet right fucking now or I’m calling the police!] [You fucking **** I’ll **** Give it back!] [****, go **** yourself, I see you reading these, reply to me!] [I’ll kill your whole fucking family, you stole my shit and scammed me out of $3,000!] [Go to hell, rot in hell!] Honestly, I’ve heard my fair share of trash talk, but this was nothing. What shocked me was that I had never heard language this filthy come out of Brad’s mouth. He had chased me for six months, and we’d been dating for three. In all that time, I had never even heard him raise his voice. Whether it was to me, his friends, or total strangers, he was always perfectly polite, gentle, and refined. Clearly, that was all just a carefully curated persona designed to hook me. The maniac behind the screen right now was his true self. Unhurried, I sent him three video clips. The first was Maria taking the perfectly sealed package from the first courier. The second was me handing the completely untouched, sealed package to the second courier. As for the third… it was the video the Uber driver just took of Brad receiving the box. Three videos. Ironclad proof. Evidence that from start to finish, I never once unsealed the box. [Go ahead and call the cops! When the police investigate, they’ll definitely have to call your girlfriend to verify the contents.] [If your girlfriend finds out you sold her mother-in-law’s gift on the internet for quick cash, do you really think she’ll stay with you?] After sending those two messages, I switched over to iMessage and replied to his sweet text as “Chloe”: [I’m so honored that your mom loves it!] [Take a picture of her wearing it for me!] [I want to post it on my Instagram to show off what a great future daughter-in-law I am! Gotta score those brownie points! 😉] 6 Total radio silence from Brad on both platforms. I kept launching psychological attacks on his iMessage. [Babe, why aren’t you replying? You’re acting so weird!] [Did you actually lose the bracelet?] [Or… did you lose the whole gift box?] On Facebook Marketplace, the “Typing…” bubble kept appearing and disappearing, but a message never came through. I knew exactly what was happening. He was spiraling. He was absolutely calculating the domino effect of calling the police, and weighing the catastrophic consequences it would bring. Honestly, I was slightly worried he actually would call the cops. After all, three grand wasn’t a small amount of money to him. Not that I was afraid of getting charged with fraud. The account was under Maria’s real identity, and those three videos proved we never tampered with the box. Most importantly, Brad was the one who voluntarily offered to pay a premium to buy it back. If push came to shove, I could just claim I “forgot” to put the bracelet in the box, have Maria refund him, and the police would treat it as a civil misunderstanding and drop it. But if that happened, it would be way too boring! It completely ruined the script I had mapped out. I quickly made a phone call, arranging the final pieces of my plan, and waited quietly. I was certain Brad would never call the cops. Sure enough, a few minutes later, a message popped up on Marketplace. [You’re ruthless. Make sure you look both ways crossing the street with that dirty money.] I let out a sigh of relief. My read on him was spot-on. Before I could even type my next attack on iMessage, Brad actually initiated a FaceTime call. “Chloe, you really are my lucky star! I love you so much!” “How did I get so incredibly lucky to find a wife as kind, beautiful, innocent, and generous as you?” This sudden, aggressive barrage of flattery almost made me break character and laugh out loud. I forced a coy, slightly pouty expression, playing the part. “If you love me so much, why were you ignoring my texts? Were you chatting up other girls?” Brad quickly laughed it off, his voice dripping with barely concealed excitement. “You silly girl, of course not! I have amazing news. I just got the job at Sterling Enterprises.” “Their HR just called me. I start next Monday!” I played dumb, raising my voice in fake awe. “Oh my god! Really?! Sterling Enterprises has insanely high standards!” “If my mom knew my boyfriend was that capable, she’d force me to marry you tomorrow!” Hearing that, Brad’s smugness and excitement practically radiated through the screen. “Babe, it’s all because of you. Ever since I met you, my luck has been off the charts!” “My life is just getting better and better. You must be an angel sent from above!” I mirrored his blissfully happy expression, dialing up the cutesy act. “Then you better cherish me! If you lose a treasure like me, it’ll be the biggest loss of your life!” Brad enthusiastically agreed, smiling so wide his eyes disappeared into slits. Of course it was because of me. I was the one who just called my family’s HR department and told them to push Brad’s hiring paperwork through. I even had HR drop subtle hints that the only reason he got his foot in the door at a multi-million dollar corporation was because of his connection to Chloe Sterling. Even an idiot would realize what the name “Sterling Enterprises” meant by now. Brad didn’t expose the truth directly. Clearly, he intended to keep playing along with this “rich heiress testing the poor boy” trope. After all, as long as he locked me down, he was set for life. He would never have to work a day again. Back when I was just playing the role of a comfortably upper-middle-class local girl, he stuck to me like a leech, entirely focused on draining me for free meals and gifts. Now that he realized my family was this powerful? He’d rather die than let me go. Following the flow of the conversation, I pressed the issue: “So what about the bracelet? Is my future mother-in-law happy with it or not?” 7 I thought this question would finally make him stutter, but surprisingly, he looked completely relaxed. “Of course she’s happy! She’s literally at the mall right now showing it off!” “Hold on… let me go find her and video call you so you can see!” Before I could react, he hung up. What the hell kind of game was Brad playing? Was he actually going to bite the bullet, drain his bank account, and go buy an identical solid gold bracelet to cover his lie? Brad’s house was close to a luxury outdoor mall. Ten minutes later, he sent a FaceTime request. When I answered, Mrs. Jenkins’s giant face filled the screen. “Chloe! Look, doesn’t it look beautiful on me? Doesn’t it make me look like a wealthy socialite?” “I just ran into some of my girlfriends, and when they saw the bracelet you bought me, they were so jealous! They kept saying how blessed I am!” As she spoke, she purposefully raised her wrist, shoving the bracelet right up to the camera lens. With one glance, I recognized it. It was the exact same model I had at home. Looking at the background behind her, they were standing mere feet away from a fine jewelry counter. Did Brad seriously drop eight grand to keep up the lie? After a few minutes of fake, overly sweet small talk, we hung up. I was sitting there, utterly confused, when Jessica—the sales rep who sold me the gold—called me. I always went to her for my jewelry, so we were pretty close. “Miss Sterling, a man just came to my counter holding a photo of your receipt and a picture of the bracelet you bought.” “First, he used your photos to aggressively confirm with us that you were the one who bought that exact piece two days ago.” “After we confirmed it, the older woman with him demanded to try on that exact display model. She wore it for several minutes, got on a video call with someone, and bragged about how her ‘daughter-in-law’ bought it for her! We honestly thought it was some kind of scam and my manager called security. Thankfully, she hung up the phone and handed the bracelet back.” Jessica paused, then added, “I just felt like the whole situation was incredibly sketchy, and since it involved your name, I wanted to give you a heads-up.” I thanked her and hung up, bursting into uncontrollable laughter. I laughed at how utterly blind I had been to ever fall for a guy like this. If he had actually gritted his teeth and spent the money to buy a real bracelet to cover his tracks, I might have respected him a tiny bit. Who could have predicted his family would pull off a stunt this pathetic and absurd? Did he think he could fool me for a day, or did he think he could fool me for the rest of our lives? What went through his head? His brain was on a completely different frequency than the rest of humanity! Just as I was gasping for air from laughing so hard, a notification popped up from Temu. (I had downloaded the app ages ago when Brad begged me to use a referral link for him.) I absentmindedly clicked the notification, and my jaw hit the floor. Exactly five seconds ago, Brad had placed an order for a $4.99 “gold” bangle. I rubbed my eyes, wondering if I was hallucinating. Are those human words? $4.99? Gold bangle? I clicked on the item details. The design was a direct ripoff of the Cartier-style bangle sitting in my room. Scrolling through the review photos, the fake actually looked shockingly realistic from a distance. Instantly, I understood. Brad was planning a bait-and-switch!

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Driven to suicide by her, I thought my death would finally bring her remorse. Instead, I watched her pay a fortune to an occult medium: “Medium, exactly how many Spirit Dollars do I need to burn every day to stop her from overspending down there?” “Is there a way to make her ‘check in’ every day, just like when she was alive? If she behaves, I’ll burn more money.” In that moment, I actually felt a wave of relief— Thank God I was dead. I was finally free from her control. But the medium’s chilling voice instantly shattered my illusion: “Yes. “There actually is a way.” 1 After I died. My mom burned exactly twenty Spirit Dollars for me every single day. Just like when I was alive, she would transfer exactly twenty bucks to my bank account every morning for living expenses. Exact to the penny. Not a cent more. But surviving in the Netherworld was far more destitute than anyone could imagine. I stood shivering in the biting spectral wind, struggling to calculate today’s expenses: “Crypt Lease”—even the most rundown wooden coffin cost 10 Spirit Dollars a day. “Reaper Protection Fee”—to avoid being bullied by vicious poltergeists, you had to pay the Reapers 200 Spirit Dollars a month. “Soul Painkillers”—ghosts who died unnatural deaths, like me, were forced to repeatedly experience the agonizing pain of our final moments. You had to drink the painkillers to suppress it. Each dose cost 15 Spirit Dollars. On top of that, there were “Reincarnation Taxes,” “Soul Mending Fees,” “Incense Meals,” “Phantom Garments”… With twenty Spirit Dollars a day, I could barely afford to suppress my agonizing pain. Let alone find a safe place to live or avoid getting harassed. “Tsk.” The Reaper collecting the protection fee weighed my few, thin paper bills in his hand, looking at me weirdly. “When other families burn money, it’s tens of thousands at a time. This person in your family… burning twenty bucks a day? If I say she cares, she clearly remembers you. If I say she’s cheap… wow, she’s literally cheaping out the Netherworld.” I pressed my lips together tightly, not saying a word. They didn’t understand. This was my mother’s obsession with control, carved deep into her very bones. It was like this when I was alive. And now, in death… it followed me like a shadow. “Look, why don’t you request a Dream Visitation? Tell your mom to burn more cash. She probably just doesn’t know how expensive the Afterlife is,” the Reaper suggested slowly. “Every new soul gets one free Dream Visitation voucher, just so you can tell your folks to send more money.” Dream Visitation? That meant I’d have to face my mother again? A shudder violently racked my body. Just the thought of it made my soul run cold. I still clearly remembered how every single day of my life was spent simmering in fear and suffocation. My mother demanded that I video call her three times a day—morning, noon, and night. I had to report every microscopic detail of my college classes and my social life. Furthermore, I had to go to the library every single day, record a video of myself studying as a “check-in,” and state to the camera: “Today is day X of working hard.” Only when all of this was completed would I receive my twenty dollars for the next day. I tried to object once. But my mother was self-righteous: “Twenty bucks! I calculated it perfectly. It is exactly enough for your food and water! College girls are easily corrupted by temptations. I am controlling your materialistic desires so you build good, frugal habits. You ungrateful brat, I put my heart into this and you think I’m hurting you?!” The sheer entitlement in her voice instantly crushed any argument I had. I knew fighting back was useless. So, I learned to be silent. I learned to shove every ounce of grievance and every shred of desire deep down into my chest, building a shell of “obedience” just to earn my pitiful right to survive. Yet, even trying my absolute hardest, I could never seem to meet her demands. When I needed to buy tampons. When I ran out of toilet paper. When I just wanted a piece of fresh fruit. I was constantly trapped in humiliation. I couldn’t have a normal social life. When my roommates asked me to get boba tea or grab dinner, what was I supposed to say? Hold on, let me ask my mom to authorize a Venmo transfer? Besides, I knew that even if I asked, she wouldn’t give it to me. Once, I gathered my courage. After a roommate kindly bought me a coffee, I begged my mom for an extra twenty dollars so I could treat her back. My mother demanded I write a two-thousand-word essay detailing the exact justification for the extra funds. After I racked my brain to write that essay, she replied with only two words: [Request Denied.] There was another time when my period cramps were so bad I couldn’t get out of bed on time. At 7:00 AM sharp, her phone call rang out like a death warrant: “Where the hell are you?! Where is the video? Where is the check-in?! It’s only been a few days and you’re already slacking off?! Are you hanging out with those trashy girls again? I’m telling you, if today’s check-in isn’t done, don’t even think about tomorrow’s money!” Even as I explained through trembling lips that I was sick, she didn’t soften in the slightest. “So what if it’s your period?! What woman doesn’t get her period? I don’t see anyone else acting as dramatic as you! You’re just lazy to the bone and making excuses!” She didn’t even care that I had a final exam that day. The only thing that mattered was that I hadn’t greeted her at the exact right second, and her rage ignited like a wildfire, screaming that I didn’t respect her as a mother. I thought about running away. Getting a part-time job. Doing anything. But it was useless. My mother was a 24/7 surveillance camera. She would show up at my college unannounced to audit me. She kept her eyes locked on me, driving me like cattle. If I deviated even slightly, what awaited me was slap after slap, and a tidal wave of verbal abuse. I couldn’t defy her. I didn’t dare. So, I chose to jump off the roof. I used the most absolute, decisive method to finally find my escape. I wanted her to cry over my body. I wanted her to repent. I wanted her to admit that her suffocating “love” was wrong. I wanted to escape her control forever, and ever! So, looking at the Reaper, I shook my head. “I don’t want a Dream Visitation. Are there any jobs in the Netherworld? Can I earn my own Spirit Dollars?” The Reaper gave me a sideways glance, like he was looking at a defective product. “Ghosts like you who commit suicide are classified as ‘Self-Destructive Souls.’ Down here, you’re the equivalent of a high-risk felon. Who’s gonna hire you?” I refused to believe it. Dragging my weakening soul, I wandered through the gloomy, shadowy alleys, begging for work. “Get lost! Bad luck!” Cold rejections slammed into me over and over again. Without a crypt to shelter me, the spectral wind sliced through my soul like razor blades. Without Reaper protection, the malicious glares of older, violent ghosts pricked at my back. But the deepest despair was the agonizing, bone-shattering pain of my fatal fall, repeating itself on an endless loop every single day… “Ah—!” Torn apart by the phantom agony, I couldn’t help but cry out that name from the bottom of my heart: “Mom…” In that split second, a tiny, flickering flame of hope sparked in my despair: I’m dead… Mom must know she was wrong by now, right? Those twenty dollars she burns every day… it’s probably just because she doesn’t know how hard it is down here, right? That pathetic, desperate little hope gave me the strength to raise a trembling finger and tug at the Reaper’s sleeve. My voice was as thin as a thread: “Excuse me… where do I go to request a Dream Visitation?” 2 That night, I slipped into my mother’s dream. Her dreamscape was a cold, clinical prison of order. I saw countless versions of “me”— All wearing identical, perfectly pressed uniforms, sitting expressionless at identical desks, obediently copying Bible verses. The walls were plastered with schedules precise to the minute, and the air smelled heavily of bleach and ink. She sat high above it all in a carved, gothic armchair. Her eyes were sharp as a hawk’s, scanning every “daughter” to ensure our handwriting was neat and our posture was perfect. This was probably her ideal version of me. Obedient, flawless, and completely stripped of a soul. “Mom…” My voice drifted, broken and hollow. Because I couldn’t afford the protection fees or a place to sleep, my soul had been tortured until it was withered, flickering like a candle in the wind. Standing on the edge of her “perfect world,” I looked like a stain that didn’t belong. “Who’s there?” she snapped, her voice carrying a trace of caution. “It’s me.” She shot up from her chair, her eyes instantly focusing through the haze of the dream. “Serenity, is that you? You finally came to my dream…” Her voice carried a kind of profound relief. She reached out her hand to me, a gesture that made it seem like I had just had a bad day outside and was coming home to her embrace. Seeing her like this, a sour, emotional lump rose in my throat. Had she been waiting for me? Did she finally realize how cruel she had been? Did my death finally make her understand? “Mom, I’m doing really badly in the Afterlife.” My heart softened, and my tone unconsciously slipped into a pathetic, wronged whine. “It hurts so much. The pain of hitting the pavement… it repeats every single day… I need painkillers. I need to rent a crypt. I need to pay the Reapers for protection. Can you… can you please burn a little more money for me?” I don’t know why, but even though I was already dead, the moment I opened my mouth, I reverted right back to my old, submissive tone. I sounded like a lowly beggar, wagging my tail for scraps. That familiar feeling made me hate myself even more. But what I didn’t expect was for my mother’s face to instantly darken. “You useless disappointment!” Her voice suddenly shrieked. “You were a failure alive, and you’re a debt-collector in death! I always said you had cheap bones, no self-discipline! You go down there, and you still haven’t repented! You’re still infected with the disease of spending money! Do you think money just falls from the sky?!” I stood frozen, feeling like I’d been struck by lightning. My soul vibrated with shock. “Mom, you burn 20 dollars a day. Just the painkillers cost 15. I don’t have a place to live, and I have to save 200 a month for protection. If I want to reincarnate, there are taxes…” “Enough!” She cut me off viciously, her spit flying in the dream’s light. “Excuses! Twenty bucks was plenty for you to eat and shit when you were alive! You don’t even need to eat or drink down there. Twenty Spirit Dollars is more than enough. Don’t think I don’t know how it works. I consulted an Occult Medium! Twenty dollars is absolutely enough! It’s because you haven’t fixed your disgusting habits down there that you’re spending so much!” My mother’s voice was a sharp knife, piercing through every last drop of emotion I felt for her. “Did you think I was burning money for you to enjoy yourself? Let me tell you right now, I burn money every day so you remember every single second: I am your mother! I still control you! Don’t you dare think you can fly out of my palm just because you’re dead!” Something cracked deep inside my soul. So, my mother wasn’t burning money out of love. She was doing it out of “control.” She hadn’t changed one bit from when I was alive. In fact, she had gotten worse. “Do you really think… that you haven’t made a single mistake?” I asked, completely hollowed out. “I am your mother! Everything I do is for your own good!” She exploded like a powder keg, her voice piercing the air. “Look at me, I’m getting old, and I still have to break my back worrying about you! When you were alive, I bled for you, I taught you, and why the hell were you so fragile? You jumped off a roof over a little hardship! And now, you’re dead, and you still don’t understand shit!” She took a menacing step forward, and all the “perfect daughters” in her dreamscape crumbled into dust behind her. Leaving only her twisted face, contorted by her obsession with control. “Do you know why I named you Serenity? ‘Serene’ means quiet obedience! It means you shut up and follow orders. What you need right now is to reflect on your mistakes! Not think about how to squander money!” The one who needs to correct their mistakes… is me? I screamed silently in my head as tears streamed down my spectral face, utterly uncontrollable. My mother showed no sign of stopping. “From now on, do exactly as I say! Visit my dreams every night. Greet me, and tell me this is day X of your sincere reflection in the Netherworld. Be good! Let me see your ‘progress’! If I find out you’re not behaving—” A cruel, triumphant sneer tugged at the corner of her lips. “Then I’ll cut the Spirit Dollars off completely! Then we’ll see what you do!” She actually wanted me to continue “checking in” from the Afterlife? Even though I didn’t breathe anymore, I felt like I was suffocating all over again. The nightmare of my living days was replaying in the Netherworld in an even darker, more desperate way. But this time, from the depths of my freezing despair, a blazing, all-consuming fire suddenly roared to life! When I was alive, I was powerless to fight back. But now… I was already dead. What did I have to be afraid of? “I originally thought… my death might buy a single shred of remorse from you…” I laughed mockingly at myself, raising my hand and pointing directly at her hateful face. “Now I see I was incredibly stupid! Naive and ridiculous! “Let me tell you something: even if my soul shatters into a million pieces down here, I will never, ever visit your dream for another second! “You will never control me again! Not for a single minute!” My mother stared at me in shock, reaching out to grab my soul— “You think you can escape me? I’m telling you, even if you don’t visit my dreams, I have ways to make you—” Before she could finish, I scattered like smoke. The Dream Visitation was over. 3 “Are you okay?” Coming out of the dreamscape, Harper, the Reaper at the Department of Dream Visitation, caught my arm. My soul was practically disintegrating. It felt like all the energy had been drained from me, and I couldn’t even stand steady. Harper looked at me, hesitating. After a long pause, she sighed and gently patted my shoulder. “Getting stuck with a mom like that… you’ve had it rough.” I forced a tight, ugly smile. “You saw all that?” “Dream Visitations are monitored. Standard procedure.” She paused, asking tentatively, “So… are you really going to ‘check in’ with her every night?” I shook my head, my voice lighter than a wisp of smoke. “I jumped off a roof because I couldn’t stand her ‘checking in’ anymore. Now that I’m dead, no matter how much my soul hurts… it’s better than being controlled by her again.” Harper stayed silent for a moment, then suddenly lowered her voice. “Actually… your mom refusing to burn you money might be a blessing in disguise.” I looked up. “If no one burns paper money for you for three consecutive months, and your personal assets fall below ten thousand Spirit Dollars, you can apply for ‘Netherworld Welfare.’” “Netherworld Welfare?” I sat up straight, a light kindling in my eyes. “Yeah. It’s 1,500 Spirit Dollars a month.” 1,500 dollars! That was huge! Even if my mom burned money every day, that was only 600 a month. The Afterlife’s welfare was more than double! Suddenly, my existence felt like it had a future. As long as my mom didn’t burn money for three months straight, I could get welfare! Looking at it this way, being dead was pretty great. Even if it was destitute, it wasn’t a dead end. Probably out of pity for what she saw in my dream, Harper sighed and pulled a dozen “Soul Painkiller” vials from her pocket, shoving them into my hands. “Take these. They’re Department perks. I don’t use them, and I was going to sell them on the side, but seeing how hard you have it… just take ’em.” Overwhelmed by her kindness, I took them, thanking her profusely. Harper thought for a moment, then added, “The workload here is getting intense. If you’re willing to help me out, I’ll give you all my monthly painkiller allocations from now on. But you can’t breathe a word of this outside. You’re a high-risk suicide soul. If the higher-ups find out I’m using you for labor… we’re both screwed!” I was ecstatic and quickly agreed. “Don’t worry, I won’t say a word!” With this job, even if my mother stopped burning me money, I could survive the three months. After three months, I’d get my welfare, and life would only get better! I bowed deeply to Harper. A Reaper I had never met before was willing to extend a helping hand when she saw my suffering. And my own mother, who claimed to love me, refused to let me go even in death. She probably… never loved me to begin with. Accepting that truth brought me a strange sense of peace. In the days that followed, I worked diligently at the Department of Dream Visitation, helping Harper with the grunt work. Filing life-and-death ledgers, calibrating visitation timelines, and floating between filing cabinets that smelled faintly of phantom lilies. Harper found a corner in the archives for me to stay in temporarily. Though the painkillers she gave me weren’t many, drinking half a vial a day was enough to ease the crushing agony in my soul. Day by day passed. Two months. Just one more month, and I could claim my welfare! I’d be financially free! But then, on that exact day. I was head-down, organizing dream files. Suddenly, a brutal, overwhelming force gripped my soul! Like an iron hook piercing my collarbone, I didn’t even have time to scream before I was violently yanked upward! When I opened my eyes, the blinding sunlight scorched my phantom body. —I had been pulled back to the living world. No, more accurately, my soul had been stuffed into a stuffed animal. My favorite childhood teddy bear. “It worked!” An old man with a greying beard stroked his chin, looking immensely smug. He was an Occult Medium. My mother stood to the side, wearing a triumphant, long-lost victor’s smile. She leaned down, her fingernail poking hard into the teddy bear’s head. Her voice was so cold it made my skin crawl: “Caught you, Serenity.” 4 “I told you to visit my dreams and check in every day! Why didn’t you listen? Huh? Your wings got tough, so you thought you could rebel even in death?!” My mother’s interrogation crashed down on me. Her nails dug deep into the cotton stuffing of the toy, sending spikes of pain through my soul. I could barely force a voice out. “I told you, I’m never checking in with you again! I’m already dead… why should I still follow your rules?” “How dare you talk back to me?!” Her pitch skyrocketed. She violently hoisted the teddy bear into the air, forcing my “eyes” to stare directly into her furious, contorted face. “I didn’t burn a single cent for you these past two months just to punish you and teach you a lesson! And what happened? You didn’t starve to death, did you? I knew it! The Afterlife doesn’t force you to spend money! You lied to me to squander my cash! Thank God I didn’t spoil a debt-collector like you!” A coppery taste of despair surged in my phantom throat, but I couldn’t even manage a whimper. —How laughable. She’d rather believe the bullshit of a random occult scammer than believe her own daughter when I said, ‘It hurts so much.’ “But I really didn’t expect you to be this stubborn.” Her tone carried the cruel amusement of a cat playing with a mouse. She dropped me back onto the table, poking my “face” over and over again. “Two whole months, and you didn’t visit me to say hello even once! You completely abandoned your filial duty! Fine, you won’t come? If you won’t come, I have ways to make you come! From now on, every single day! I will have the Medium drag you up here! You will respectfully greet me just like before, report on your reflections without missing a syllable, and listen to my lectures until your deeply ingrained flaws are completely fixed!” Every single day? The words drove through my soul like an ice pick. A drowning, absolute terror, far deeper than death itself, seized me. “How is that possible? I’m dead, you’re alive. We’re separated by life and death! How can you just pull me up whenever you want?” “It’s all thanks to the Medium’s vast powers.” My mother smugly pulled out a stack of dark yellow parchment, covered in twisted sigils drawn in blood-red ink. “Do you know what this is?” She waved the parchment in front of my face. “A ‘Soul-Binding Sigil.’ “Burn one a day, and no matter where you are, you will instantly be summoned before me.” Her fingers brushed against the teddy bear’s fur. The movement was gentle, but laced with a terrifying possessiveness. “I know you always loved sleeping with this ratty old doll. It’s covered in your essence. It’s the perfect vessel to trap your disobedient little soul! Daughter… do you finally understand your mother’s ‘good intentions’?” I felt an icy, agonizing dread wash over my entire being. With these cursed sigils, my soul was nothing more than a kite on her string. When she wanted me, I had to come. Trapped in this tiny stuffed animal, forced to listen to her lectures and curses. This was even more hopeless than when I was alive… “Now, just like before, give me a status report on your friends in the Netherworld. “What do those ghosts do for a living? How is your relationship with them? Tell me everything! Don’t you dare hide anything, and don’t you dare associate with those trashy, low-class wild ghosts! Do you hear me?” I just felt like laughing. —Mom, do you even know? I wander the Netherworld homeless. I drift from place to place. I am the trashy, low-class wild ghost you’re talking about. And you made me this way. “The sigil’s time limit is almost up. Hurry it up,” the Medium reminded her from the side. Only then did my mother reluctantly stop talking. But before I vanished, her freezing glare locked onto me. “I am extremely dissatisfied with your performance today! But considering you haven’t had any ‘living expenses’ in a long time, I’m sure you’ve suffered a bit… “I will still burn today’s twenty Spirit Dollars for you. Remember, tomorrow! I expect a proper report! Or else…” Twenty Spirit Dollars? My head jerked up. No! Absolutely not! I only had one month left before I could collect my Netherworld Welfare! If she resumed burning money, I wouldn’t meet the welfare requirements anymore! “I don’t want it!” I screamed with every last ounce of strength I had. “Take your filthy money back! I won’t check in, and I won’t take your living expenses! I’m cutting ties with you, and I will never use another cent of your money!” “Cut. Ties. With. Me?” My mother enunciated each word slowly, her smile suddenly turning grotesque. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re plotting. The Medium already told me. The Netherworld has a welfare system. If nobody burns paper money for three months, you can claim it.” She leaned in close to the teddy bear, dropping her voice to a sinister whisper: “But don’t even dream of getting it. I am your mother. Every single Spirit Dollar you get must come from me. If you think you can escape my control, keep dreaming!” The welfare… she even knew about that! My soul collapsed entirely, the last shred of my strength violently ripped away. There is no despair deeper than this. My body suddenly felt weightless, and I plunged heavily back down to the Netherworld. Lying in my palm were 20 Spirit Dollars—the “living expenses” my mother so graciously bestowed upon me. They felt like glowing branding irons, burning through my hand, burning away my final, desperate sliver of hope. The welfare… was gone. And tomorrow, the day after, the endless tomorrows… That daily “check-in” would follow me like maggots on a corpse, an inescapable shadow. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to die a second time, just to find release. But I couldn’t. I was already a ghost. There was nowhere left to run. I couldn’t even find an escape in death…

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