Category: English

Colton Fields was a playboy, yet he willingly married me, and everyone praised him for finally becoming faithful. He doted on me, and I fell deeply for him, even willing to give up my promising career for him. However, on New Year’s Eve, I saw with my own eyes my longtime rival, Freya Webb, sitting on his lap, passionately kissing Colton. “You said you didn’t love me before, now you’re jealous?” “Don’t worry, she has no chance of making a comeback. You’re the most brilliant dance star in the world, and I’ll support you forever.” At that moment, I realized his love for me was never real. Later, he searched almost the entire world for me, begging with bloodshot eyes for me to love him again. ***** I stood outside the private room, the carefully prepared gift falling at my feet. Inside, an intimate couple—my husband and my longtime rival. Colton gently caressed Freya’s waist, his eyes showing a tenderness I had never seen before. His friend teased, “Now that Freya’s back, when are you planning to divorce Aria? She’s pregnant, which might be troublesome.” Colton kissed Freya and said disdainfully, “Why would I divorce her? Marrying her ensures she can never dance again.” My mind reeled, and my blood ran cold. He continued, “I’ll make Freya a world-class dancer.” His friend said, “If Aria finds out the truth, she might leave.” Colton blew out a stream of smoke with cold indifference, “Who else can she rely on besides me? Keep your mouths shut about things that shouldn’t be said.” I couldn’t bear to hear more and stumbled away from that suffocating space. In the snowy night, I stood on the street for a long time until someone called my name from behind. “Aria?” It was Colton. The gathering must have ended, and Freya wasn’t with him. He walked quickly toward me, skillfully pulling my hand into his warm coat pocket. He asked, “Why are you here? It’s so cold; you’ll get sick, and you’re pregnant too.” His gentleness remained unchanged, as if nothing had happened. My nose stung as I held back tears. So his passionate pursuit of me was just to clear me as an obstacle, ensuring a smooth path for Freya. And I naively believed he truly loved me, even giving up dancing for this marriage. Looking down at my slightly swollen belly, realizing this child was also part of their plan, my heart felt like it had been stabbed. Colton didn’t notice my distress, thinking I was just cold, and adjusted the scarf around my neck. He said, “Let’s go. The ground is slippery; be careful, hold my hand.” Facing his outstretched hand, I hesitated. Looking at his refined profile, I questioned, “Why was Freya at your gathering? You know she’s my rival.” As soon as I spoke, I noticed Colton’s hand trembled slightly. He said, “That’s all in the past. Why are you still hung up on this? “Besides, Freya is now an internationally renowned dancer. I invited her back to endorse our company’s products. It’s work.” I pressed, “With so many celebrities available, why did you have to choose her?” Colton turned to look at me, his eyes colder than before. He said with displeasure, “I know your emotions are unstable during pregnancy, but you can’t be unreasonable. “Being Mrs. Fields doesn’t give you the right to interfere with company matters.” My breath caught, as if a boulder pressed against my chest. Colton withdrew his hand, casually tapping his phone a few times. “Tate will take you home later. I have things to do and won’t be back tonight.” My heart felt torn apart with pain, and my stomach began to feel uncomfortable too. I placed my hand protectively over my belly. He seemed to notice my pale complexion, sighed, and softened his tone slightly. “Don’t you have a prenatal checkup tomorrow? I’ll go with you.”He seemed to notice my pale face and sighed, his tone softening slightly. “Don’t you have a prenatal checkup tomorrow? I’ll go with you.” I didn’t respond. At that moment, a black Maybach pulled up alongside the road. Colton glanced at it and casually remarked, “Tate will be here soon. I’m leaving now.” With that, he quickly got into the car without looking back at me once.Just as the car was about to drive away, the window lowered slightly, creating a small gap. I peered through the gap and saw the person inside, my eyes widening in shock. The person in the car was Freya.

Not long after, Tate came to pick me up. He said, “Mrs. Fields, let me take you home.” I forced a slight smile and replied, “No need, just take me to the hospital.” He asked with concern, “Are you feeling unwell? I should inform Mr. Fields.” I quickly interrupted him, “It’s nothing, my friend is in the hospital. I’m just going to visit her.” At the hospital, I sat alone all night until I scheduled an abortion at eight in the morning. “Aria, it’s your turn. Change into the gown, sterilize, and go straight to the operating room,” the doctor urged. I looked at my phone and, after seeing missed calls automatically disconnect for the third time, I simply turned it off. A child who isn’t blessed perhaps shouldn’t come into this world. Half an hour later, the procedure was over. The moment I turned my phone back on, several messages from Colton appeared on the screen. [I’m sorry, Aria. I have to attend an international conference. Let the housekeeper accompany you to your prenatal checkup.] I pressed the power button to darken the screen, thinking, “No need, Colton. You won’t have to pretend anymore.” Back home, I went straight to the study and began searching for our marriage certificate. This marriage was due to end. But after searching for an hour, I couldn’t find it. Just as I was about to give up, I noticed a safe hidden in the bookshelf compartment. I immediately pushed aside the files and tried to open the combination lock. I tried entering Colton’s birthday, his phone password, our engagement date, and more. None worked. Suddenly, I thought of Freya. I quickly looked up Freya’s birthday and nervously turned the dial. Seconds later, the safe opened. I laughed bitterly, mocking myself, “It’s not surprising that Colton, who married me for Freya’s sake, would use her birthday as his safe password.” The safe was filled with documents. I took them all out. When I saw a familiar opera company name, I couldn’t help but take a closer look. It was an acquisition contract from five years ago for a top national opera company. As I casually flipped through a couple of pages, several papers tucked in the middle fell out. Looking down at them, I felt my mind go blank, all external sounds fading away. The paper clearly stated: [Unless Freya Webb voluntarily withdraws, all female lead roles in the opera company’s productions will forever belong to her.] I froze, recalling what Colton had said last night: “I will make Freya a world-class dancer.” I hurriedly checked the other contracts—almost all were about investing in or acquiring opera companies. I had auditioned for most of them. And the first clause in every contract, without exception, ensured Freya would play the lead role. In that moment, I finally understood everything. Tears streamed down my face, dropping onto the papers. So despite graduating at the top of my class, I could never join any opera company not because I lacked ability, but because I had been deliberately set up and deceived. Tears blurred my vision. I don’t know how much time passed before the housekeeper knocked on the door, “Mrs. Fields, dinner is ready.” I responded, “I’ll be right there.” I wiped my face and stuffed the documents back into the safe. Finally, I placed my abortion report on top. This utterly absurd farce needed to end. After this discovery, I rushed between various opera companies, trying to secure just one opportunity. But whenever people heard I had been out of the industry for three years, they wouldn’t even give me a chance as a backup dancer, rejecting me outright. Just as I was about to despair, I finally received a text inviting me to an audition. I hurried to the theater with high hopes. However, as soon as I entered, everyone inside burst into laughter. “You’ve let your body go out of shape and still want to dance? Who would believe you’re in your twenties? I’m not embarrassed for you, but I worry about ruining our company’s reputation and offending our audience’s eyes!” “You’ve been a housewife for years without training, right? Can you even still dance?” Humbling myself, I pleaded, “Mr. Hunter, please give me one chance.”Axel mocked, “Just go home. We don’t need dancers like you!” Just then, a voice came from the doorway: “What’s going on here?” Freya walked in, arm in arm with Colton.

Colton’s gaze swept over me, his brows furrowed. “Why aren’t you resting at home? What are you doing here?” Freya looked me up and down contemptuously, saying sarcastically, “You’re not here to audition as a dancer, are you? Don’t be ridiculous.” Colton’s face was filled with irritation. “Go back immediately! How can you appear in public like this?” Seeing them standing together, my heart suddenly sank. I thought, “How could I have been so foolish before? Colton’s favoritism was so obvious, yet I never noticed it.” Axel said obsequiously, “Don’t worry, Ms. Webb. I’ll escort her out right away.” With that, he roughly grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward the exit. “Move it, don’t cause me trouble!” I struggled to break free. “Mr. Hunter, please give me a chance to try!” He impatiently said, “Who wants to see a fat person dance? Get out!” Just as Axel was about to drag me out, Freya suddenly interrupted, “Why not let her dance a piece? After all, our theater company is fair to every performer.” Hearing this, Axel released his grip, lifted his chin, and pointed to a small open space outside, saying, “Dance there, and don’t waste time.” I clenched my teeth, my nails digging deep into my palms, fighting back the humiliation. No matter what, this was an opportunity. I chose the dance that had made me famous years ago, slowly raising my leg. Though out of practice, muscle memory remained deeply etched in my mind. In the silent space, I counted the beats to myself while dancing, my movements gradually becoming more fluid. A few minutes later, I looked at Axel, breathless, and tentatively asked, “Mr. Hunter, is this acceptable?” Freya sneered mockingly, “Look at your figure, and you dare say you can dance? You’re insulting art.” Colton’s face turned terrifyingly dark. “Aria, go back now, or I won’t let you off.” Looking at Axel’s ugly expression, my heart felt as if it had been violently pierced. I wondered, “After three years, have I truly lost the right to stand on stage again?” Axel dragged me toward the exit once more. As Freya brushed past me, she mocked in my ear, “Colton donated ten million dollars to the opera company to secure this lead dancer position for me. You have no right to compete with me.” A group of people escorted them into the office with fawning smiles. The harsh spotlight beat down on my face, and no amount of resentment could overcome the cruel reality. I slowly walked to the edge of the stage, lovingly caressing the floor, making a solemn and silent farewell. However, at that moment, a sudden force hit me from behind. I was violently shoved from behind, losing my balance completely. A pair of elegant high heels appeared in my vision. It was Freya! I fell awkwardly to the side, hitting the wall, barely avoiding falling headfirst off the stage. My knee struck sharply against the wall corner, and intense pain made me curl up. Before I could recover, the nearby scaffolding collapsed with a crash, giving me no time to react. The cold metal flashed before my eyes, leaving me momentarily blinded. After a dull thud, the heavy iron frame crashed down. I lay on the ground, breathing weakly, my legs completely immobile. Steel rods had pierced deep into my calf, and blood immediately gushed out. Freya’s arm was also cut, leaving a bloody gash. She crouched on the ground, screaming incessantly with her head in her hands. Backstage staff rushed over at the sound, but they all gathered around Freya, completely ignoring my terrible condition. Colton also rushed out from the office, bypassing me entirely to kneel beside Freya, saying, “I’ll take you to the hospital!”I frantically grabbed his hand and said, “Colton, my leg hurts so badly.” He ruthlessly shook off my hand, his eyes piercing with bone-chilling coldness. “How dare you lay a hand on her?” He scooped Freya up in his arms and turned to leave. I desperately clutched at his pant leg, pleading, “Please save me, my leg is really giving out.”Colton coldly yanked his leg away and said, “Freya is different from you. She needs to dance, while you being disabled isn’t a big deal. Get out of the way!” I was abandoned on the floor, watching helplessly as a crowd of people surrounded them as they left. In that moment, I felt abandoned by the entire world.   When I woke up again, I found myself lying in a hospital bed, my entire leg immobilized in a cast. The doctor walked in and sighed, “Due to the delay in treatment, your leg nerves have been severely damaged. Even being able to walk normally would be considered the best-case scenario now.” I widened my eyes in disbelief and said, “That’s impossible! I was planning to continue dancing. How could my leg be…” Before finishing my sentence, I tried to get out of bed. However, the moment my leg hung in the air, excruciating pain shot through my lower body. I lost my balance and nearly fell, fortunately caught by the doctor just in time, saving me from tumbling off the bed. The doctor was all too familiar with such reactions. He consoled me, “Being able to walk is the most optimistic scenario. The worst outcome could be permanent disability. You should focus on cooperating with the treatment.” Tears streamed down my face as I struggled to accept this cruel reality. When Colton called, his voice still carried anger. He said, “Freya was seriously injured. Aria, you must take responsibility for this!” Remembering that it was Freya who had pushed me, I completely broke down. “I can never dance again. Are you satisfied now? Freya ruined my leg, and she will pay for this!” Colton dropped all pretenses on the other end of the line. “Pay? How can your leg compare to hers? “I’m warning you, if Freya’s future is affected in any way because of this injury, you won’t escape responsibility!” I found it both laughable and absurd. Because of him, my life was already ruined, yet now I was being held responsible for Freya. The dial tone rang in my ears like a final judgment on my future. Indeed, from the moment I fell for Colton, I had already lost. Just then, angry voices erupted outside my door. “Is this the room?” The door was violently pushed open, and a group of Freya’s fans stormed into the hospital room. They shouted about avenging Freya as they all rushed toward me. I was pushed off the bed, my leg crashing heavily to the floor, the cast shattered under their feet. The sharp pain almost made me scream. I said, “Stop! I’m calling the police!” But no one listened. I was dragged to a corner, beaten and kicked, my face swelling from slaps. A flash of cold steel—someone grabbed a fruit knife from nearby and lunged at my arm. I desperately bit their wrist to escape, then crawled to the door frantically calling for help. The on-duty doctor arrived and finally stopped this madness. The hospital moved me to a different room. Still reeling from the attack, my phone kept ringing non-stop. When I checked, it was filled with abusive and threatening messages from Freya’s fans. With no other choice, I called Colton again. Choking back tears, I said, “Colton, Freya’s fans came after me. There must be security cameras in the opera house. Can you help me get the footage as evidence? Please…” Before I could finish, Colton interrupted, “Enough. Even acting should have its limits. You deserve all of this.” The call ended again, and my phone was flooded with more messages. Suddenly, Freya sent me a picture. I instinctively opened it. It was a photo of two people holding hands. Somehow, I knew it was Freya and Colton. Freya: [Aria, you’ll never be as good as me in this lifetime. Just accept your fate as a worthless cripple.] I gently tapped the screen and replied: [I will never dance for money.] After sending the message, I threw my phone directly into the trash. I forced through the discharge procedures and headed straight to the airport.The next day, in the executive office of Fields Group. Colton was checking the schedule released by Freya Studio. Suddenly, he thought of me. He casually asked, “Where is Aria now?” Tate wore a troubled look, not knowing how to respond to this question. Colton looked up at him, “Why aren’t you saying anything?”Tate forced himself to answer, “Mrs. Fields went to the airport last night, bought a ticket to Nalinia, and the plane has already taken off.” Colton’s expression darkened instantly. “She’s pregnant, why is she traveling in her condition? Arrange for someone to bring her back immediately.” Tate agreed and left. Five minutes later, Tate returned with his phone, his face ashen. He reported, “Mr. Fields, the plane Mrs. Fields was on crashed this morning. Everyone on board perished, with no survivors!”

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The biological daughter of the Michell family, Harley Michell, came to the prison to smugly tell me she had been accepted into an Ivy League school. Her mother, Hannah Michell, told her with disgust to stay away from a “cheating murderer” like me. What they didn’t know was that at today’s trial, I would undergo memory extraction judgment conducted by my brother, Judge Austin Michell. And my memories contained evidence of Harley asking me to take exams for her, as well as proof of her murder. ***** Harley came to the prison to gloat about her acceptance into an Ivy League school. However, her grades were completely fabricated, obtained by threatening me to cheat for her by taking the SAT in her place. Hannah stood beside her, her face full of disgust, coldly warning her daughter to stay away from this “murderer.” When Harley went missing years ago, it was Hannah who ran to the adoption agency, crying and begging me to be her daughter, promising that no matter what happened in the future, she would always protect me and treat me as her own flesh and blood. They had no idea that in today’s trial, Austin would subject me to memory extraction judgment, declaring to the world that I not only cheated but also killed Evelyn Harris, his fiancée. This new high-tech procedure could convert a person’s true memories into visual images through brain waves and other advanced technology, used exclusively for murderers. The irony was that the real murderer was Harley!

I dragged myself into the courtroom, weighed down by heavy chains, my figure thin and hunched. The room was filled with people I knew. Former classmates of three years viciously called me a murderer, throwing things at me. The court staff deliberately ignored this until the judge ordered silence, and only then did they reluctantly intervene. Austin stood before me, his eyes filled with undisguised disgust and hatred. I wiped away whatever had been thrown at me from my face and gave him a cold smile. “Austin, I don’t think Harley knows what you’re about to do.” As a murderer, I had no right to privacy. My memories would be extracted and broadcast live to the world. If Harley knew, she would threaten suicide to stop this. After all, my memories contained records of her bullying others and killing to silence witnesses after being caught cheating! Austin looked at me with contempt. “Harley is so kind. She has always treated you like family, yet still refuses to believe you killed my fiancée. She just got accepted into an Ivy League school. This is my gift to her.” In his eyes, Harley was perfect, too kind to even allow the possibility of being falsely accused. She never resented me for intruding into her life as an adopted daughter, even going out of her way to please and protect me. While I supposedly targeted her at every turn, even trying to harm her. He hoped this high-tech procedure would show Harley my “true nature” so she would stay away from me for good. Though he had made himself perfectly clear, I couldn’t help but ask, “Austin, may I ask you one last question? In all the time we’ve known each other, did you ever truly see me as your sister? Did you ever truly consider me family?” He was silent for a few seconds, then answered coldly, “Never. And I regret not stopping mom when she adopted you.” His answer was what I expected, yet my heart still ached unbearably, as if someone were repeatedly twisting a knife inside it, violently tearing it to pieces. I staggered slightly. Hannah suddenly rushed forward and pushed me away, her voice filled with undisguised disgust. “Murderer! Touch my son and I’ll kill you!” I said sadly, “Mom, I didn’t…” “Don’t call me mom!” she roared. “Back then I was desperate to find my daughter, and I was fooled into bringing home a murderous monster like you. I regret it so much!” These words were the final straw, pushing me from the edge of the cliff into an endless dark abyss.I closed my eyes, my nails almost digging into my flesh, my lower lip bitten until it bled. The intense pain brought me back to clarity somewhat. All these ten years, I was the only one who considered them family. If they truly saw me as family, they wouldn’t have distrusted me, wouldn’t have expelled me from Ficroch after Harley returned, and forbidden me from ever going back.I suddenly burst into laughter. “Since you’re so eager to see my memories, I’ll let you see your fill. “But just looking at my memories of ‘killing to cover up being caught cheating’ seems rather shallow. Don’t you think I’m evil to my core? “I also bullied classmates, stole valuable things from my mother, seduced men, and even beat my father while he was bedridden. That’s the kind of evil person I am.” Hannah and Austin looked at me with even more contempt. Austin’s voice was ice-cold. “I didn’t expect you to have any self-awareness.” I continued smiling and said, “If that’s the case, then let everyone judge all my ‘sins’ together.” The tribunal allowed spectators, and my words stunned the hundreds of attendees. The tribunal had tried many criminals, but only I had made such a strange request. Austin frowned. “Lydia, what trick are you trying to pull?” “Demon, don’t you dare hurt our family anymore!” Hannah lunged forward and grabbed my throat. My veins bulged as she choked me, but my smile only grew brighter. I said, “Cough, cough, what trick could I possibly play? I know my sins are grave, and I’m just asking for all my crimes to be judged together. Is that not allowed?” I thought to myself, “Since you’re so eager to see my ‘sins,’ look carefully. Let’s see who truly bears the weight of sin!” Judge Gael Walker signaled staff to pull Hannah away, then after an urgent discussion, finally decided to judge all charges together. I was fitted with the memory extraction machine, completely enveloped by the pungent smell of chemicals and the cold touch of metal. I thought, “Harley, now let everyone see what kind of person you really are!” I slowly closed my eyes, and the large screen behind me began broadcasting my memories.

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I have a hereditary form of amnesia that skips generations. By the time they diagnosed me, I had only seven days left before everything would slip away. On the first day, my boyfriend confessed he’d fallen for my sister. I forced a smile and broke things off. On the second day, my sister smashed my prized LEGO collection. Everyone laughed, saying I was an embarrassment who didn’t deserve to be a Miller. By the fourth day, I’d forgotten my sister was allergic to mangoes and accidentally sent her to the hospital. My parents couldn’t even look at me, and my ex called me a heartless bitch. On the seventh day, I woke up in a hospital bed to find my father storming in, demanding I quit my job to become the family’s full-time caretaker. I just stared at them all, confused. “Who are you people?” I asked softly. When they realized I genuinely couldn’t remember anything, the whole family lost their minds. ***** Harris: [Ms. Miller, are you continuing your treatment? Don’t forget to pick up your prescription if you are.] Harris: [Ms. Miller, your condition is serious. Stopping medication will cause side effects. You absolutely cannot abandon treatment or you’ll lose all your memories within eight days.] I stared at Doctor Harris Clark’s messages for the longest time, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. In the end, I didn’t reply. Maybe getting amnesia wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to me. I’d been alive for years, and honestly? There wasn’t a single memory in my head worth fighting to keep. I stared at Harris’ earnest message on my screen for what felt like forever before slowly typing back: [Thanks, Dr. Clark, but I’ve already decided to give up.] After turning off my phone, I glanced at the calendar. Today marked six years since James Davenport and I had started dating. I’d been planning his anniversary gift for a whole month. A tie seemed too basic, shoes too impersonal. After endless deliberation, I’d dipped into my secret savings to buy him an expensive handcrafted watch. James worked at a Fortune 500 company where he constantly rubbed shoulders with loaded bigwigs. He needed something to help him look the part. Plus, I didn’t want my memory loss condition to drag him down anymore, so I’d decided to break up with him face-to-face. But when I arrived at the restaurant we’d agreed on, James was nowhere to be seen. I waited until the water in my glass turned cold before I finally spotted him rushing in, looking totally frazzled. “Feona, I’m so sorry! The office suddenly needed me to work late. I got here as fast as I could.” I took in his disheveled appearance and couldn’t miss the hint of a hickey peeking out from his collar. Something in my brain just snapped. “You—” I started to say, but before I could finish, James wiped the sweat from his forehead and handed me a small box, smiling warmly. “This is for you. Thanks for sticking with me these past six years.” I just stared at the box he handed me, feeling nothing—no excitement, no happiness. When I opened it, there was a gorgeous bracelet nestled inside. It looked incredibly expensive, with an intricately carved peony flower that seemed almost alive. All these little details suddenly clicked together in my mind like puzzle pieces, and I understood everything in an instant. I didn’t like peonies—my sister Tracy Miller did. The scales had started tipping in my sister’s favor three months ago when I first introduced her to James. Since then, everything had changed. He stopped caring about my feelings, from buying extra gifts that weren’t for me, to constantly bringing up Tracy’s name during our dates, and finally to leaving me behind while he walked side by side with her, laughing together. When exactly had he started falling for her instead? I’d been quiet too long. James looked at me nervously and asked, “What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?” I forced a bitter smile onto my face. “James, let’s break up,” I said, my voice ice cold. James froze, his eyes filling with disbelief before he jumped to his feet in anger. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? What now?” he snapped, words rushing out. “Weren’t you the one crying about how nobody cared about you or remembered your special days? Weren’t you begging me to celebrate our anniversary together? And now what? You’re already bored of me? “I should’ve listened to your sister. I shouldn’t have wasted my time planning all these surprises for you! No wonder your family prefers Tracy—you don’t even come close to measuring up to her!” His words came out like bullets as he slammed his glass down on the table, still breathing hard after his angry tirade. I stared into James’ eyes, frozen in place. So this was what he looked like when he lost his cool—just another angry guy with a temper, no different from anyone else. “James,” I said quietly, “was your big surprise really just giving me the same gift Tracy wanted?” He froze, his head snapping up to look at me with the most complicated expression I’d ever seen on his face. His eyes couldn’t meet mine. “So you’re breaking up with me because you don’t like the gift?” he stammered. “If you didn’t like it, you could’ve just said so instead of making this huge deal out of nothing.” He nervously grabbed the box back and stuffed it into the shopping bag like it was evidence he needed to hide. “I can get you something else, no problem. And we can just pretend you never mentioned breaking up. “You’re too old to be playing games with your future like this.” I watched his guilty eyes and obvious attempt to cover up. Something inside me was crumbling away. On the very day I’d decided to stop my treatment, I’d been worried about how James would feel about my memory loss. I wanted to be honest with him, to wish him happiness. But he hadn’t even noticed anything weird about me these past few days. His mind was already half-occupied with that girl he’d only known for three months. He was barely present when talking to me. Did someone like that really deserve my consideration anymore?

It was already super late when I got home. I barely managed to wash up before collapsing into bed, where I spent the entire night trapped in painful, bizarre dreams. When I finally woke up, birds were chirping outside my window. It was the start of a new day—and day six in my countdown to complete memory loss. The moment I got out of bed, a dull headache started pounding behind my eyes, along with a slight fever. I stumbled downstairs, feeling like absolute garbage, hoping to make some cold medicine. But before I even reached the bottom step, I saw my massive LEGO creation—the one I’d deliberately placed in the living room—knocked over, with pieces scattered everywhere. Tracy stood there looking smug, her eyes full of challenge. “Oops, sorry, Feona,” she said with fake concern. “Your thing was in the way. I didn’t see it and accidentally kicked it over.” I stared in shock at the model I’d spent three painstaking months building, now completely destroyed. My eyes started to burn with tears. This wasn’t just any LEGO set—it was the only gift my mom had ever given me. I was raised by my grandmother from birth. My sister and I are twins, though I’m older by just five minutes. When we were born, our parents’ business was taking off, and they couldn’t handle raising two babies at once. So they made the decision to send one of us to live with my grandma in the countryside. I was the one they sent away. For eighteen whole years, I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen my parents. To make up for it, my mom bought me a giant LEGO set for my eighth birthday. I was over the moon about it and assembled it with total dedication. I kept it where it would be the first thing I’d see every morning when I came downstairs. Like an idiot, I’d daydream about how perfect life would be once I finally got to live with my parents again. But that day never came. It wasn’t until three months ago when my grandma passed away that my parents finally remembered they had a child abandoned in the countryside and were forced to bring me home. I carefully carried my treasured LEGO set to my new home, thinking my mom would recognize the gift she’d once given me. Instead, she wrinkled her nose in disgust and muttered, “What are you carrying that piece of junk for? It’s going to take up so much space…” I froze, staring at this woman who was supposed to be my mother but felt like a complete stranger. That was when it hit me—the family warmth I’d been dreaming about for eighteen years might never actually be mine. I just stood there speechless while my mom, Elizabeth Miller, busy in the kitchen, heard Tracy’s apology and poked her head out. She shrugged it off, telling her, “Don’t worry about her, Tracy. That stuff costs practically nothing. No need to apologize if it breaks.” My dad, Kevin Miller, who hadn’t even looked up from his newspaper, nodded in agreement. He barely glanced at me, his face showing nothing but annoyance. “Your mom’s right. She’s definitely from the countryside, treating that junk like treasure. It’s embarrassing to even have it in our living room.” With that, he went back to his paper, like he couldn’t stand the sight of me. Tracy snuggled up to Elizabeth, playing up the victim as she whispered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” “There’s nothing to apologize for. Just call the maid to clean it up,” Kevin replied without bothering to look up. The three of them walked out of the living room together, leaving me with nothing but their cold backs as they disappeared. They seemed to forget I was their daughter too. Tracy and I were the same age, with identical looks, the same height, and even similar voices. Yet for some reason, they adored Tracy and couldn’t care less about me. My foggy brain didn’t want to form another word, so I shuffled to the kitchen in my slippers, found a pack of cold medicine that hadn’t expired yet, and washed it down with water. Tracy lounged on the couch, slippers dangling off her feet, her face lit up with a smile as she texted someone. Mid-conversation, she suddenly tapped on a voice message, and James’ voice pierced my ears. “Don’t be upset, Tracy. Feona never listens anyway—it’s her fault for not putting away that LEGO set properly. Just hang on, I’ll make sure she apologizes to you properly later.” His voice boomed through the huge living room from her phone’s cranked-up volume. Tracy shot me a smug look, then brought the phone to her lips and replied in a sickeningly sweet voice, “Don’t worry about it, James! I wasn’t even mad. Feona doesn’t need to apologize.” I watched her contemptuous posture and that self-satisfied tone, feeling nothing but ice in my veins. It was fine. Whatever. I’d already given up fighting my illness. Once these seven days were over, I wouldn’t remember all these painful moments anymore, and Tracy’s provocations wouldn’t hurt me anymore. For the first time ever, I found myself desperately counting down to day seven.

By day four of the countdown, my memory had started to slip. I kept forgetting what I’d just been doing or what I’d planned to do next. Several times throughout the day, I’d find myself just standing frozen in place, completely zoned out. With effort, I finally remembered something important today—I needed to collect the LEGO set that Tracy had broken. Even though I’d given up on having any real family warmth around here, that LEGO set was special. Grandma had helped me build it, and it was one of my most precious memories with her. No way was I letting them throw away my memories of my grandma like they were trash. I rushed downstairs and spotted the pieces still scattered across the living room floor, untouched. That was when it hit me—our housekeeper had taken time off recently, which explained why nobody had cleaned up the mess. I quickly grabbed a small box and started picking up the LEGO pieces one by one from the floor. The set had shattered into so many tiny fragments that I’d only collected about half of them when Elizabeth walked in the door and caught me crouched on the floor. Her forehead immediately creased with disapproval. “What are you doing down there on the floor like that?” she snapped. “You don’t look anything like a proper young lady! How am I supposed to introduce you as a Miller family daughter to anyone? “This is what happens when you’re raised in the middle of nowhere. Your grandma completely ruined your upbringing!” My hands froze mid-pickup. I took a deep breath and waited for the hurt to subside before I quietly went back to collecting the scattered pieces from the floor. I knew the LEGO set was beyond repair after that fall, but I still wanted to keep the pieces as a memento. So I knelt down, carefully collecting every broken fragment from the floor. Elizabeth tossed whatever she was holding onto the couch with an irritated huff. “Are you even listening to me?” she snapped, her voice rising. “Why can’t you be more like your sister and stop causing problems for once?” I’d just spotted the final piece and was reaching for it when Elizabeth’s foot came down hard, crushing it beneath her shoe. She glared down at me, her expression dark. “Tomorrow is your sister’s birthday. You’re going to bake her a cake yourself as an apology. Don’t ruin her day.” Elizabeth glanced at the LEGO piece under her foot like it was actual trash. “It’s just a stupid toy. Sweep it up and throw it away. What are you doing wasting time on this? Do you expect us to support you forever?” I stared at the LEGO piece—now dirty from her shoe—and felt a wave of sadness wash over me. Looking up at my mother’s annoyed expression, I let out a bitter laugh. “Mom, Tracy and I are twins. Her birthday is my birthday too.” Elizabeth’s face flickered with momentary panic as I continued, “That LEGO set you’re stepping on? It’s the only gift you’ve given me in eighteen years. Grandma raised me because you and Dad didn’t have the energy for a second child, so you handed me off to her. “Grandma didn’t raise me wrong. She was the best grandmother anyone could ask for. And I don’t think there’s anything about me that makes me unworthy of being your daughter.” Elizabeth couldn’t look me in the eye. She quickly pulled her foot back, revealing the last broken LEGO piece beneath her shoe. Without a word, I reached down and grabbed it, adding it to the pile of fragments already in the box. When I looked up, Elizabeth was still avoiding my gaze. “It’s just a stupid LEGO set, okay?” she snapped. “Go make your sister’s birthday cake like you’re supposed to. I’ll buy you a new one later.” Right, my parents had plenty of money now—they could buy me a hundred LEGO sets if they wanted. But apparently, I wasn’t important enough for them to let me share a birthday celebration with Tracy. I closed the box without another word and carried it upstairs, my chest tight with everything I couldn’t say.   Elizabeth never mentioned buying me a replacement LEGO set, and honestly, I hadn’t expected her to keep that promise anyway. By the third day of the countdown, I was starting to forget things. That morning, I spotted the box of broken LEGO pieces on my bookshelf and just stared at it, trying to remember why they were there. Nothing came to mind. No matter how hard I concentrated, I couldn’t recall what had happened to them. Something in my gut told me they mattered—that they were important somehow. But if they were so damn important, why had I smashed them to pieces in the first place? If something broke so easily, maybe it wasn’t all that important anyway, right? I dumped the box of scattered LEGO pieces into the trash can outside our door and headed back to the kitchen to tackle tonight’s dinner. Tracy’s birthday was today, and Elizabeth had asked me to stay home and cook while she and Kevin took Tracy to the mall for gift shopping. It was already 8 PM when Tracy and my parents were back. I had just placed the cake I’d made on the dining table when I looked up and froze. James was with them, arms loaded with shopping bags, his eyes fixed on Tracy with that soft look he gets. He didn’t even notice me standing there at the table, feeling like complete trash. Something twisted in my chest. I dropped my gaze and silently untied my apron. Kevin shrugged off his jacket and plopped down in a chair. “I asked you to make a cake, not a whole feast,” he complained. “Such a waste if we can’t finish all this.” I paused mid-fold with the apron but kept my mouth shut. Tracy smirked as she dug through her pile of presents, casually tossing a small box my way. “Happy birthday, Feona,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery. I opened it and immediately recognized the earrings inside. They were freebies from some luxury clothing brand—nothing special, just basic studs they hand out as promotional items. I forced the corners of my mouth up into what probably looked like a grimace and pushed the box back toward her. “No thanks,” I said. “I stopped celebrating birthdays a long time ago.” “Just take it, alright? Tracy picked this gift out for you specially at the mall.” James frowned, clearly annoyed as he pulled out a chair for Tracy. “Here, Tracy.” Tracy settled into her seat with a smug smile, her challenging stare fixed on me the entire time. Elizabeth jumped right in, cutting a slice of cake and sliding it in front of Tracy. After just one tiny bite, Tracy let out a blood-curdling scream and knocked the entire plate to the floor. “There’s mango in this!” she shrieked, immediately starting to gag and retch. Elizabeth rushed over to check on her, roughly shoving me aside. “Your sister is allergic to mangoes, you idiot! Why would you put mango in the cake? Were you trying to kill her or something?” The force of her push sent me stumbling backward until my lower back slammed against the corner of the table. The pain was so intense my face went completely white. “No, I… I just forgot… I didn’t mean to…” I stammered, trying desperately to explain myself. But nobody was listening. The room had erupted into total chaos. “Feona, you need to get on your knees and beg for Tracy’s forgiveness!” James roared, glaring at me like I was a complete stranger. “What the hell is wrong with you? Her allergies could literally kill her! How can you be so goddamn heartless?” Everyone stared at me with pure accusation in their eyes. I felt tears welling up as panic took over. I wanted to explain, to defend myself, but the words wouldn’t come. The air felt thinner and thinner, like I was drowning. All their faces started to blur, like I was looking at them through murky water. Everything went muffled and hazy. I barely registered Kevin and Elizabeth rushing Tracy to the hospital, or James running to get the car. The last thing I caught before he left was him pointing his finger in my face, still hurling insults at me until the very last second. My vision started swimming, and once everyone had cleared out, my body finally gave up. I crashed to the floor with a sickening thud. I was out cold for two days straight. No clue who dragged me to the hospital, but here I was, sprawled across a bed in the inpatient ward. The sharp smell of disinfectant filled my lungs, and weirdly enough, I felt a strange sense of peace wash over me. That peace didn’t last long. The commotion erupted in the hallway before the door burst open, kicked in by a middle-aged man. The nurse on duty got shoved aside, still trying to do her job as she protested, “The patient needs rest! You can’t just barge in here—” But the man cut her off before she could finish. “Your sister’s been in the hospital for two days, and what do you do? Fake being sick so you can lie around in here without even checking on her once! How did we end up with such an ungrateful daughter?” Behind him stood a haggard-looking middle-aged woman and a younger guy. I stared at all three of them, completely blank. I had zero idea who these people were. The middle-aged man glared at me coldly. “Get up right now. You’re quitting that job of yours. Your mother hasn’t been well lately, so you’re staying home to take care of her.” “And in a few days,” he continued, “we’re arranging a marriage for you. After that, you’ll just stay at home where you belong.” I kept staring at this man who wouldn’t stop talking, plus the two strangers hovering behind him. After what felt like forever, I finally found my voice and asked quietly, “Who are you people?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MyFiction” app 🔍 search for “397720”, and watch the full series ✨! #MyFiction #B×G

“Stay out of trouble and live a good life,” the prison guard advised as he opened the gate. Meryl Stone nodded absently. She had never imagined she would make it out alive after those three torturous years. She limped along the wall, each step slow and painful. The feet that once danced ballet now felt like they were walking on knives. Rain drizzled from the gray sky as she stepped into freedom. The biting wind made her shiver and wrap her arms around herself. A sleek Porsche Cayenne pulled up beside her. The sight of the license plate made her blood run cold. The window rolled down, revealing a man’s stern, emotionless face. “Why are you limping?” Dalton Aniston’s eyes flicked to her legs, his voice icy. Meryl’s eyes stung with unshed tears. This was the man she had loved for seven years, her fiancé, the same man who had ensured she was sent to prison. Was this supposed to be concern? From her very first day in prison, she had been beaten by the other inmates. They said Dalton had paid them to make her suffer. But he hadn’t always been like this. She remembered being fourteen, new to the city from a small town. Her father, Malcolm Stone, had enrolled her in an elite school, a fresh start that quickly turned sour due to Lydia Stone’s manipulations. One day, during a brutal snowstorm, Meryl had been locked in an outdoor bathroom stall, freezing and terrified. She screamed for help until her voice gave out, but no one came. Then, Dalton had kicked the door open. The memory was still vivid, like the icy air, him standing there with snow swirling around. His unbuttoned uniform billowed in the wind, wet hair clinging to his forehead. In the dim light, she couldn’t see his expression, but she remembered him taking off his scarf and tossing it to her. “Here, take this,” he had said, turning away without looking back. To fourteen-year-old Meryl, seventeen-year-old Dalton was a hero, her first beacon of hope. From that moment, she had loved him deeply, following him for seven years. But in the end, all she got was a life worse than death. ***** “Get in,” Dalton commanded, his arm resting casually on the window frame. His custom suit highlighted his tall, imposing frame, and he radiated a cold, aristocratic detachment. Meryl recognized the impatience in his voice, reminiscent of her parents. At fourteen, she was brought back to the Stone family, where her parents initially felt guilty and wanted to make up for lost time. But under the manipulative influence of Lydia, whom they had raised for fourteen years, they gradually distanced themselves from her. When Meryl was twenty-one, Lydia falsely accused her, triggering an explosion of pent-up resentment from the Stone family. “Sure, Lydia isn’t our blood, but what’s her fault? She’s been with us for years. We brought you back. What more do you want?” “Meryl, how could you do this to Lydia? It’s obvious you weren’t raised with us. You’re nothing like her.” Everyone accused her of kidnapping Lydia and plotting against her. They never gave her a chance to explain, sentencing her to prison without a second thought. They never believed her, not once. Dalton’s eyes stayed on Meryl. Seeing her still frozen in place, he snapped, “Get in the car!” His eyes drifted to her legs, spotting a gruesome scar wrapped around her ankle. It looked like it had been slashed with a sharp object, an ugly reminder of her suffering. He turned away and called, “Elias.” His assistant, Elias Sterling, got out of the driver’s seat and approached her. “Ms. Stone, Mr. Aniston wants you to get in the car.” When Meryl still didn’t move, Elias reached out to pull her. Instinctively, she crouched down, covering her head, her voice breaking. “No, please don’t hit me…” Elias was stunned by her reaction, his face showing his shock. She had changed so much that he barely recognized her at first. She used to be so vibrant and full of life, known for her beauty. Now, the light in her eyes was gone, replaced by fear and dread. Three years in prison had turned her into a shadow of her former self. Elias instinctively glanced back at Dalton, but his face remained as calm and indifferent as ever. “Meryl, how much longer do you plan on making me wait? Three years in prison, and you still haven’t learned your lesson?” Meryl slowly got up and slid into the car, carefully keeping her distance from him. The heater was on, but she huddled in a corner, still shivering from the rain and cold. Her head felt foggy, and despite trying to hold it in, she sneezed. The car hit a speed bump, causing Meryl to lurch forward and fall to her knees on the floor. Dalton, who had been resting with his eyes closed, snapped them open at the sound. He glanced at her, his voice dripping with disdain. “Meryl, you really are a mess.” She took a deep breath, his words making her feel even smaller. The car mat felt scorching under her, and she fidgeted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up later,” she whispered. Dalton cut her off sharply, “No need. Everything will be thrown away.” A bitter thought crossed Meryl’s mind. “Is it because I touched it?” Her lips trembled, a hint of bitterness creeping onto her face. She turned to look out the window, her eyes growing red. In Dalton’s eyes, everything she touched was dirty and had to be discarded. “In your eyes, only Lydia is clean, isn’t she?” Dalton’s face hardened, a rare flicker of anger in his eyes. “You don’t get to talk about her. This is your last warning. If you ever harm Lydia again… If prison didn’t teach you, I’ll make sure you learn another way!”

Meryl’s face drained of color, her eyes losing their light. The hellish three years she had endured should have taught her something. She took a deep breath, struggling to control the whirlwind of emotions inside her, her fingers clenching into fists. As the car passed under a bridge, the shifting light cast shadows on Dalton’s face, highlighting his unchanged coldness and detachment. Swallowing her bitterness, Meryl asked, “Dalton… was it really you who paid those people in prison?” In prison, she had broken down multiple times, even contemplating death. But she couldn’t let go of Dalton. She feared he wouldn’t manage well without her care. She couldn’t believe he could be so cruel to her. Dalton’s response was chillingly calm. “What kind of answer are you looking for?” Meryl froze for a moment, then a wry smile twisted her lips. Was this his way of confirming it? In his eyes, she was jealous of Lydia and had arranged for her kidnapping, leading to Lydia nearly being molested. The evidence had been overwhelming, leaving Meryl without any defense. Lydia had been ruthless enough to gamble her own reputation, and she had won. Meryl suddenly felt that her seven years of love were utterly laughable. Her gaze grew empty as the car pulled up to what had once been her and Dalton’s future home. Every detail of the house had been painstakingly overseen by Meryl, from the major renovations down to the placement of flower pots. She had even been hands-on with tasks like painting. She had spent countless days and nights dreaming of a life there with Dalton. But now, the house was filled with Lydia’s belongings. Meryl’s heart felt like it was being pierced by needles. Her lips turned pale from how hard she was biting them, her heart frozen solid. Dalton seemed oblivious to her distress. To the maid who came out to greet them, he said, “She’s filthy. Take her to clean up first.” The maid nodded and led Meryl to the bathroom. Once inside, the maid covered her nose, clearly at a loss. Finally, unable to hold back, the maid said with disdain, “Miss, how long has it been since you last bathed? As a young woman, you should really take better care of yourself.” At twenty-four, Meryl wished nothing more than to feel clean and refreshed again. She didn’t say a word. After dismissing the maid, she locked herself in the bathroom and scrubbed at her skin for a solid hour. The wounds from her prison days still plagued her. During her three years in prison, she had been subjected to relentless cruelty. Though the last month had brought some respite, her old injuries had not healed. Many were hidden from view, ranging from bruises and scratches to long, jagged scars. The prison had offered no proper care, and untreated injuries had festered. The most painful was a deep scar on her left foot, which throbbed with each rainstorm, reminding her of its existence. Whenever the pain became too much to bear, Meryl would console herself, believing that the agony would eventually fade. When she emerged, she slipped into the fresh clothes provided by the maid, which fit her surprisingly well. However, as soon as she opened the bathroom door, she walked straight into Dalton. She stumbled, nearly falling backward. Instinctively, Dalton’s hand shot out to steady her, wrapping around her waist. The embrace was jarring for both of them. Meryl’s heart raced as she found herself pressed against his chest, the heavy scent of nicotine wafting from him. Quickly regaining her composure, she pulled away, creating some distance. She tried to sound composed as she said, “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to…” Meryl caught sight of the cigarette in Dalton’s hand and figured he must have been heading out for a smoke when their paths crossed. “What did you call me?” Dalton’s eyes narrowed sharply. “What’s your game this time, Meryl?” She bit her lip, her eyes stinging with tears she struggled to hold back. It seemed that in his eyes, no matter what she did, it was always wrong. Dalton’s expression darkened as he put the cigarette back in his mouth. He didn’t want to admit that her sudden departure from his embrace had left him feeling unexpectedly hollow. Especially now, seeing her tearful eyes stirred a primal impulse within him, a desire to lash out. He lit the cigarette with a flicker of impatience, his throat tightening as he suppressed the desire inside. “So, after three years, you’ve only gotten better at seducing men?” A sardonic smile played at his lips. “Can’t wait, huh?”

Meryl struggled to catch her breath, her fingers gripping the edges of her sleeves as if they might anchor her to sanity. Why did he have to not only reject her but also humiliate her? After a moment, she steadied herself, looked up at Dalton, and forced a smile. “Dalton, just because I have feelings for you doesn’t mean you can belittle me.” Dalton was momentarily taken aback by her smile, a rare sight these days. He found himself staring at her longer than intended, but by the time he processed it, Meryl had already averted her gaze. He loosened his tie and stubbed out his cigarette, acknowledging that Meryl had changed. Though he wouldn’t admit it, she wasn’t the same woman who used to light up a room with her smile. It was as if her spirit had withered away. It didn’t affect him directly, but it stirred an unsettling discomfort within him. Dalton couldn’t quite figure out what was bothering him. Shaking off the confusion, he reminded her, “Today is Lydia’s birthday. I’ll be taking you back to the Stone Villa later, but remember to behave. Don’t cause trouble. Lydia is nothing like you.” Meryl’s heart sank at his words. To Dalton, Lydia was a cherished prize, while she was deemed unworthy even as a mere accessory. ***** An hour later, Meryl was ushered into a car by Elias. At the Stone Villa, the grand hall was filled with guests. Even though Lydia wasn’t Malcolm’s biological daughter, her birthdays were always celebrated with great fanfare. It was a show of the Stone family’s status and their support for her, subtly reinforcing her position. Everyone of importance in Kingsdom had been invited. The hall was abuzz with wealthy women discussing the latest high-society gossip. “Why is Lydia so favored when she isn’t even Mr. Stone’s biological daughter? Is there something we don’t know?” someone wondered aloud. “She has the skills and talent. In our circle, that’s what really matters. Bloodlines are secondary to the benefits you bring.” Another socialite nodded in agreement. “I heard Lydia has already closed several major deals within six months of joining the company. Mr. Stone was so impressed that he promoted her to vice president, clearly grooming her as a successor.” “But she’s still an outsider. Isn’t that like giving the company away? What about her real parents? Why isn’t she with them?” “No one knows where her biological parents are,” came the response from someone in the know. “It’s odd because Camille Foster, who adopted Meryl, was supposed to be Lydia’s mother, but their paternity test proved otherwise.” Meryl clenched her fists as she overheard this. She still couldn’t understand why Lydia and Camille weren’t biologically related. She had assumed that Camille swapped them to give Lydia a better life, but it turned out Lydia wasn’t even her child. No one knew the exact details, but the result was clear. Meryl was returned to the Stone family, while Lydia’s origins remained a mystery. Lydia had been with the Stone family for over twenty years, and the Stone couple treated her as well, if not better, than their own child. As a few socialites chatted among themselves, their eyes subtly drifted toward Meryl. Noticing their gaze, Meryl lowered her head and quickly exited the hall. Just after she left, one of the women who had been talking turned to the others and said, “Didn’t that woman who just walked by look a bit like Meryl?” The others followed her gaze. “Meryl? No way. She was known for her striking beauty and figure. The woman who just passed by looked like a skeleton. Are you kidding?” In the past, Meryl was the kind of person who stood out even in a crowd of beauties. Now, however, she was almost unrecognizable… Unaware that she had become the topic of conversation, Meryl reached the second floor and was about to push open her room’s door when she overheard voices that made her freeze. “Dalton, I heard Meryl’s out of prison. Is that true?” “Meryl? The one who used to be glued to Dalton? When did she end up in prison? What on earth did she do?” The Stone family had worked hard to keep the scandal under wraps. The official story was that Meryl had been studying abroad, thanks to Malcolm’s efforts to cover up the truth. Dalton shot a frosty glance at Billy Preston, who immediately realized his mistake. He slapped his forehead and tried to smooth things over. “Oops, I got that wrong. Meryl was abroad, not in prison.” A wealthy young man who had been listening took a drag from his cigarette and commented, “Billy, you’re really losing it.” Billy chuckled nervously. “Oh, come on. Everyone makes mistakes.” The young man shifted the conversation back. “With Meryl back, things must be heating up around Dalton, right? If I remember correctly, you two were engaged three years ago. Dalton, any plans for a wedding?” Meryl hesitated, her hand frozen on the door handle. Inside, the sounds of a card game were audible. Billy smiled jokingly, “Engaged? Come on. Marriage is just a way to keep someone under control. Dalton isn’t the type to be tied down by something like that.”

The other man laughed. “But Meryl is quite the looker, isn’t she? With that face and figure, she’d turn heads anywhere. Keeping her around as a trophy wife wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” He glanced at Dalton, tossing a card onto the table. “Dalton, are you really okay with letting someone else have her?” Dalton finally spoke, his tone flat and uninterested. “You want her? Then take her.” The man was taken aback, unsure if Dalton was serious or just messing with him, and chuckled awkwardly. “Everyone knows Meryl’s been devoted to you. She’s followed you around all these years. I guess I’m not that lucky.” Outside the door, Meryl was taken aback, her face twisting into a bitter smile. It was well known that she loved Dalton, but hearing him casually offer her up like a prize was a painful blow. The sting of humiliation made her eyes well up. She clenched her fists tightly, feeling overwhelmed by a suffocating sense of betrayal. This was the man she had loved for ten years, and this was how he treated her. Fighting back tears, she moved to the window, pulled out a long-forgotten number, and dialed it. As the phone rang, someone called out to her from behind. “Meryl? You’re back?” Glancing at her phone, she ended the call and turned to see who was calling. Her mother, Bianca Stone, looking surprised to see her, approached with a skeptical expression. “When did you get out?” How absurd. Bianca had remembered Lydia’s birthday but had forgotten Meryl’s release. “You’ve lost so much weight,” she said, frowning as she assessed Meryl. “A little hardship can be good for you. It teaches you lessons. Your father and I won’t hold the past against you. Today’s both your and your sister’s birthday. Change into a dress quickly.” Then, as if remembering something, she added, “Oh, right. Since you’ve been gone for three years, your room has been repurposed into a game room. Go ahead and change in your sister’s room for now. I’ll have someone bring the clothes to you.” Meryl was pushed into Lydia’s room. The moment she stepped inside, the strong perfume made her stomach churn. She rushed to the bathroom, struggling to keep from gagging. Just then, the sound of footsteps outside the door signaled the arrival of the maid with the dress. Meryl leaned over the sink, her eyes red from vomiting. Once the nausea subsided, she washed her face and went back to the room. The maid was waiting inside, eyeing Meryl up and down as she emerged. “I’m not pregnant,” Meryl preempted her, knowing what the maid was thinking. She had been so sick that her eyes were still bloodshot, making her look extremely weak. “Tell Lydia not to make a fuss about this.” The maid gave a somewhat embarrassed smile. “Don’t misunderstand. I wasn’t thinking that. Just get dressed and come downstairs quickly. Mrs. Stone is waiting for you.” Meryl was aware that the birthday party was for Lydia, and she was merely an afterthought. Not wanting to feign sisterly affection with Lydia while feeling nauseous, she went to the kitchen to get some food. She had barely eaten a few bites when someone knocked on the door. It was still the same maid. “Mrs. Stone needs to see you. Miss, please come downstairs!” Meryl took her time finishing her last bite before looking up. “I’m not feeling well. I don’t want to go downstairs.” The maid was taken aback, clearly not expecting Meryl to refuse. “Madam said it’s not appropriate for you to miss today’s event. It would look bad if you and Ms. Lydia Stone aren’t seen together.” “When have Lydia and I ever been on good terms?” The maid was momentarily speechless, but fortunately, Meryl had already risen and was heading out. In the grand hall, Lydia, dressed to the nines, was surrounded by a group of wealthy young ladies. She held a glass of white wine, about to take a sip when a sudden, startling voice interrupted. “Ms. Lydia Stone, don’t drink that wine! It’s been tampered with!”

“What?” Lydia looked up, startled. “What are you talking about?” The maid shot a glance at Meryl. “I saw Ms. Stone go into the kitchen and put something into your drink. It looked like some kind of drug.” Several faces turned pale as the maid’s words sank in. Everyone in the Stone family remembered the kidnapping incident three years ago. Lydia had been abducted after drinking a spiked beverage. Hearing that it might be happening again made Lydia’s face go white, and her hand trembled, causing her wine glass to shatter on the floor. The crash of the glass drew attention from the crowd, who now looked over curiously. Lydia, with red-rimmed eyes, turned to Bianca. “Mom… “I’m so scared…” Bianca, realizing what Lydia feared, quickly comforted her. “Don’t be afraid. It’s all in the past.” Then, she turned her gaze towards Meryl, her expression hardened. “Still up to your old tricks?” Though Bianca didn’t directly accuse Meryl in front of everyone, Meryl knew exactly what she meant. It seemed Lydia was trying to use this situation to frame her again. Meryl, who had been holding back laughter at the absurdity, spoke up. “It wasn’t me.” She glanced at the drink in the decanter. Lydia had a special preference for white wine, which had been prepared just for her. It was clear Lydia had anticipated this. “I did go to the kitchen, but I was just looking for something to eat, not to tamper with her drink.” The maid persisted, “But I saw you add something to it. I swear I didn’t lie!” The maid’s certainty was almost theatrical, like a crusader standing up to a powerful foe. Around them, murmurs and whispers began to circulate among the guests. Bianca was anxious to keep the matter contained, knowing that family issues should be handled privately. Publicizing them would only bring embarrassment. Lydia, sensing her mother’s unease, gave her a reassuring smile. “Mom, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. “Meryl has spent three years in prison. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again. I trust she is innocent.” Her words caused a stir as the guests had been led to believe that Meryl was studying abroad. In their high-society circles, the mention of prison was a serious blemish, a mark that could affect one’s reputation and even that of their family for generations. The room buzzed with whispers. Lydia seemed to realize she had misspoken and quickly tried to cover up, her face a mask of guilt. “I was just drunk and rambling. Don’t take it seriously. How could my sister ever have been to prison?” But her attempt to backtrack only seemed to confirm the suspicion. Her evident discomfort made it clear to everyone that there was some truth to the claim. Trying to salvage the situation, Lydia said, “Meryl, since you’ve just returned from abroad, have you adjusted to the time difference? Today is our birthday, and I’ve prepared a special gift for you. Would you like to see it?” Meanwhile, the noise from downstairs had reached Dalton, who came down to find Lydia looking fragile and distressed, apologizing to Meryl in a pitiful manner. Her eyes were red, her hands clasped nervously as she carefully watched Meryl’s reaction. Meryl turned to look at her. This was nothing new. Lydia had always had a talent for playing the innocent victim, no matter how many times she tried to frame her. Meryl felt cornered, the stares from the crowd making her feel increasingly exposed. She hadn’t done anything wrong, yet she was being unjustly accused and manipulated by Lydia. It seemed that for Lydia, three years in prison wasn’t enough. The public revelation of Meryl’s imprisonment was meant to ruin her life. Meryl’s frustration grew. If Lydia wanted to drag her down, maybe it was time to bring everyone down together!

“Yeah, I did time.” Meryl’s eyes swept over the crowd, finally landing on Lydia. Lydia reached out to grab her hand. “Meryl, stop saying that. I just spoke without thinking, okay?” Meryl pulled back, avoiding Lydia’s touch, yanking her hand away forcefully. Unexpectedly, Lydia stepped on the hem of her dress and fell to the ground. The fall was hard, and shards from a broken glass on the floor hadn’t been cleaned up yet. Dalton immediately rushed over, pushing through the crowd to help Lydia up. Her hand was a bloody mess, with shards embedded in her skin. Dalton’s eyes blazed with anger as he glared at Meryl. “Meryl, you never learn! I warned you…” Meryl’s heart skipped a beat. She knew Dalton didn’t care about her, but seeing him protect another woman still hurt. “What did I do? I just pulled my hand away. She fell on her own.” Seeing their hands clasped together, Meryl felt a pang of irony. She lowered her gaze, gently touching a spot on her chest where a pendant hung, a gift from someone long ago. In prison, during countless moments of despair, she had clung to that pendant to get through it. When she looked up again, her eyes were cold. She smiled bitterly and continued, “Yeah, I was in prison, but I was framed.” Bianca’s face turned pale as Meryl admitted her imprisonment. Initially, when Lydia exposed Meryl’s past, Bianca also suspected it was intentional. But watching Lydia apologize and try to cover it up, she believed it was just a slip of the tongue. She had watched Lydia grow up and couldn’t believe she had such malicious intentions. Not wanting things to get out of hand, Bianca tried to smooth things over. “Meryl, you’ve had too much to drink. Let them help you upstairs to sober up.” But Meryl ignored her, her voice steady. “Three years ago, if I had really kidnapped Lydia, I could have made her disappear without a trace. Why would I leave evidence for you to find her?” Suddenly, a sharp slap echoed through the room. Malcolm had emerged from his study, his face stern. “Meryl, stop this nonsense right now!” he commanded. Her cheek stung, but Meryl didn’t flinch. “Lydia only had minor injuries. If those men had really wanted to do something to her, they would have done it when they first took her. Why bother taking her to an abandoned factory? It makes no sense.” The crowd was stunned, eyes widening in disbelief. Whispers spread through the room as people glanced at Lydia, who bit her lip, her face ashen. Malcolm was furious. This incident had been a forbidden topic in the Stone family for years. Now, Meryl was airing their dirty laundry in front of everyone, turning them into a spectacle. His one daughter ended up in prison, and the other was nearly assaulted all because of a bitter feud between sisters. It was the kind of scandal that made for juicy gossip in high society. Tears streamed down Lydia’s face, her shoulders trembling as she sobbed quietly. Meryl let out a cold laugh, thinking, “Can’t handle this, can you?” Compared to her own suffering, this was nothing. Bianca shot Meryl a warning look, urging her to be quiet. Three years ago, they had agreed to send Meryl to prison to teach her a lesson because she had refused to admit her mistake, and they thought she was beyond help. Bianca sometimes wondered if they had been too harsh. After all, Meryl was their daughter. But Lydia had insisted that being a Stone family member would protect her in prison. They believed this might be the only way to set Meryl straight, fearing she would otherwise go down the wrong path. Bianca had reluctantly agreed. Meryl had been raised by Camille, who had also raised a gambling, lazy son. With that kind of upbringing, Meryl needed some serious correction to set her on the right path. “Why bring this up now?” Bianca’s voice was full of frustration. “Can’t you see Lydia is crying?” Meryl’s expression turned mocking. “Right, I went to prison for her, and she’s the one crying.” She bent down, lifting the hem of her dress to reveal an ugly scar on her ankle, causing a collective gasp from the room. “But who cares if I’m hurting?” Meryl’s fingers traced the scar. The damp weather made it ache slightly, but she was used to it. “I’ve always wondered who paid off those inmates to treat me like that. I have dozens of scars. Want to see?” They had claimed it was Dalton, but Meryl didn’t believe it. She wanted to know, in front of everyone, who was truly responsible. The sight of her scar made the daughters of the wealthy families present feel a pang of sympathy. They had been pampered their whole lives and had never suffered like this. “Was it you?” Meryl looked at Malcolm and Bianca, then quickly shifted her gaze to Lydia. “Or you?” Finally, her eyes locked on Dalton.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MyFiction” app 🔍 search for “397714”, and watch the full series ✨! #MyFiction #Revenge #Marriage #B×G #BillionaireRomance #Prisoner

Charlotte had crashed her car. As she lay on the operating table, all she could think about was the photo she’d seen right before the accident. The one of Arthur holding another woman, looking at her like she meant everything to him. She couldn’t get it out of her head – how gently he held her, the way his eyes lit up. She’d been so shocked looking at it, she didn’t even see the other car coming. She might be his wife, but that woman was clearly the one he truly loved. Five years of marriage, and he’d never once looked at Charlotte that way. Just thinking about it made her chest ache. Now his first love was back in the picture, and Charlotte had to wonder if she even mattered to him anymore. A thought suddenly crossed her mind. She needed to know if he still had feelings for her at all. When she opened her eyes, she was met with a stark white ceiling, and confusion washed over her. “You’re awake,” a deep, cold voice said from beside her. Charlotte turned to see a face set like stone. His features were sharp and chiseled, his expression impossible to read. Though his eyes seemed capable of warmth, they held none of it now as they stared at her. Charlotte blinked, confused. “Who are you?” She looked around, lost. “Where am I?” Arthur frowned. Those steel-gray eyes of his seemed to pierce right through her. Unable to bear the weight of his stare, Charlotte retreated behind a facade of timidity. “W-why are you looking at me like that?” Her voice quivered, not entirely an act. Even now, after everything, his presence could unsettle her so easily. Arthur looked away almost instantly, his voice as cold as ever. “Nothing. And… I’m just a friend of yours.” The words hit her like physical blows. Each syllable carved new wounds into her heart, deeper than any knife could reach. Five years – five years of marriage, of carefully molding herself into what she thought he wanted. All of it reduced to “friend” in a single breath. All those years of love and devotion had meant nothing. Just then, the door opened, and a young boy who looked just like Arthur walked in. It was Julius Harrison, their son. He walked straight to Arthur without even looking at her. “Dad, let’s go. Sarah’s waiting for us to watch her show.” Charlotte gripped the bedsheet tightly, his words hitting her hard. She gave a bitter laugh. This was her own flesh and blood, the baby she’d carried for nine months. Yet here he was, refusing to even look at her while she lay injured in bed. Like father, like son – both of them completely wrapped up in Sarah Miller. People always said boys never really get their mothers. Now she felt the sting of what her own kid had become. Arthur had always been cold, and here was Julius, turning out just like him. At home, he barely acknowledged her, and in public, he acted like she was just some housewife who didn’t matter. Charlotte felt something inside her go cold. If they thought she was worthless, fine. She’d leave them to it. Thinking this, Charlotte made a silent decision in her heart.

Five years of trying to make this marriage work, all that love and effort she’d put in… what a waste. Later, Arthur’s assistant came to handle her discharge paperwork. Keeping up her act of memory loss, Charlotte looked at the assistant. “Who are you?” Grace Johnson hesitated briefly. “I’m Mr. Harrison’s assistant. I’m here to take you home.” “Mr. Harrison?” “The man who was just here. Your husband.” Charlotte let out a silent, bitter laugh while keeping her expression neutral and puzzled. “So why would he tell me we’re just friends?” “I honestly don’t know,” Grace sighed. She couldn’t understand her boss’s thinking. His wife had lost her memory in a car crash, and he chose to call her just a friend. “Was this an arranged marriage?” Charlotte mused, keeping up her act. “Is that why he’s saying we’re just friends?” Grace stayed quiet, leaving Charlotte’s question unanswered. The car rolled to a stop outside Rose Villa. Charlotte’s chest tightened at the sight of the familiar house. Unbidden, the image from that photo flooded her mind – Arthur holding Sarah, their bodies close, his eyes soft with a tenderness she’d never seen directed at her. The pain hit her like a physical blow. These feelings for him, she realized, weren’t going to fade easily. This was the house they had shared, the place where they’d built their life together. Five years ago, he had been drugged, and she’d woken up in his bed. Their families quickly arranged the marriage, and everything had been set in motion. On their wedding night, he’d been blunt: “I don’t have feelings for you, but I won’t betray you. Let’s just be a marriage of convenience.” A marriage of convenience meant no love, just business. She’d agreed. But gradually, Arthur started controlling every part of her life, telling her what to wear and how to look. For a while, Charlotte fooled herself into thinking he was starting to care. She felt hopeful and tried harder to be the perfect wife he seemed to want. Six months after they married, she got pregnant with Julius, and she started dreaming of a happy family. But Arthur never changed. He stayed cold, only showing passion in bed. And she always fell for it. Five years later, when she found Sarah’s photo, reality hit her like a splash of cold water. Everything about her – her clothes, her hair, her makeup – was copying Sarah! Now it all made sense. He’d been so involved because he was trying to turn her into Sarah. She was just a replacement. After five years together, she finally saw the truth. Her life had been nothing but a cruel joke. The tears came without warning. “Are you okay?” Grace asked, concerned.

Charlotte touched her wet cheeks, confused. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” Grace just watched her with sympathy. Pulling herself together, Charlotte walked into the house. A housekeeper immediately approached her. “Ma’am, Mr. Harrison and young Mr. Julius will be home in two hours. Would you like to start dinner preparations?” For five years, Charlotte had handled everything for Arthur – cooking his meals, choosing his clothes, even picking out his accessories. She’d done it all hoping he would fall in love with her someday. But now she knew that her feelings would never be returned. Charlotte looked genuinely puzzled. “Why would I need to cook dinner?” The housekeeper stared at her, startled. “Ma’am, are you feeling okay?” At that moment, Grace explained Charlotte’s condition to the servant. The servant’s eyes softened with sympathy. “Ma’am, you should rest. We’ll take care of dinner.” “I’m not feeling great. Which way is the bedroom?” Charlotte asked, rubbing her temples. The maid showed her upstairs, and Charlotte just crashed onto the bed. Her head was swimming as she tried to figure out her next move. Divorce. That had to be first. She must have dozed off, but it wasn’t a good sleep. Her dreams were filled with the last five years – all the manipulation, the cold shoulders, and the moments when Arthur’s eyes would burn with passion during their intimacy, only to whisper those damning words. “Sarah, I love you.” Charlotte jolted awake, breathing hard, her chest still tight with pain. She spun around when she felt those cold eyes on her. Arthur filled the doorway with his tall frame. He walked in, casually undoing his shirt buttons, moving with that natural grace he always had – the kind that screamed old money. His sharp features and thick brows made him look like something out of a magazine. When he looked her way, his eyes were cold and distant, like he couldn’t care less. His tight-lipped expression didn’t help either. Charlotte pushed herself up slowly, keeping up her confused act. “They told me you’re my husband? Why did you tell me we’re just friends?” Arthur paused in the middle of undoing his buttons, his eyes flicking over to her. “Because there’s nothing between us,” he replied flatly. She pressed further, unwilling to let it go. “Then why did we even get married?” His gaze remained distant, his voice detached. “It was an accident.” Charlotte’s hand, hidden under the blanket, clenched the sheets tightly. “And the child… is he really ours?” Arthur’s patience was wearing thin. “It was another accident. Don’t overthink it.” Her heart felt like it was being squeezed. She looked down, fighting back tears. “So this whole time… we’ve been living together without any feelings. If that’s how it is…” “Let’s get a divorced!”

She looked up at him, expecting agreement, waiting for him to say they should end this. After all, his true love was back, and Charlotte was ready to step aside. An image of Julius – so much like his father – flashed through her mind, making her heart clench. But she kept her face neutral, waiting for the ‘yes’ she was sure would come. Instead, his voice cut through the air, cold and sharp: “Our marriage may have been arranged, but it’s been peaceful for five years. There’s no need for divorce.” No? She wanted to laugh. How do you plan to marry Sarah without divorcing me first? The words burned in her throat, but she swallowed them down. “But I don’t like you,” she said, her voice shaking. “I don’t even know you. We can’t live like this. Neither of us will be happy.” Arthur’s face darkened as his jaw clenched. In one fluid motion, he crossed the room and pinned her to the bed, looming over her with his face just inches from hers. Charlotte’s heart pounded as she quickly covered her mouth with her hand, staring up at him in shock. “What do you think you’re doing?” she mumbled behind her palm. “Proving that our marriage is fine,” he said coldly, his eyes hard. Charlotte felt sick to her stomach. This was wrong on so many levels. First, he claims they’re just friends with no feelings involved, and now he’s trying to kiss her? Was that all she was to him – something to use when convenient? The irony made her heart twist painfully. Fighting back the hurt in her chest, Charlotte met his gaze. “Stop,” she said firmly. “I only do this with someone I have feelings for. And I don’t have any for you. You can’t force this.” There she goes again, claiming she has no feelings for him. It drove him crazy. Something inside Arthur finally snapped. His face turned stone cold as he pulled back, barely containing his anger. Charlotte flinched away from him, fear flickering across her face. Without a word, he stormed out of the room. The door slammed behind him, and Charlotte let out a shaky breath of relief. For a moment there, she’d thought he might actually force himself on her. She sat up slowly, her mind racing with confusion. If he loved Sarah so much, why wouldn’t he just divorce her? It made no sense. Before she could think it through, someone knocked on the door. “Come in.” She quickly put on her confused face as she turned to the door. “Madam, would you like something to eat?” the maid asked. Charlotte nodded sheepishly. “Actually, yes.” “Dinner’s ready downstairs if you’d like to join.” “Thanks, I’ll come down.” She felt a bit smug about how well she was playing this. She just had to keep it up until she got those divorce papers signed. Walking into the dining room, she spotted a small figure sitting perfectly still at the table, hands folded in his lap, face blank. He barely turned his head when he heard her, saying “Mom” in that same cold way his father had. Charlotte felt her chest tighten. Julius had been shipped off to Arthur’s parents at three, where they’d raised him like a tiny soldier, robbing him of any real childhood. In the beginning, he’d still run to her for hugs when he visited. But that didn’t last. Soon he’d flinch when she tried to hold him, like he couldn’t stand her touch. He started shutting her out completely. She remembered how he gave her the silent treatment for a whole week just because she’d tried to tidy up his books. These days, he was turning into a mini-version of Arthur – just as cold, just as distant. Fighting back tears, Charlotte looked at him and asked, “Are you really my kid?” Julius, aware of her supposed memory loss, kept his face blank. “Yes.” Charlotte nodded, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. “Then why didn’t you even look at me in the hospital? It’s like I’m not even your mother.” Julius, still too young to mask his emotions as well as his father, hesitated. His forehead creased before he answered, “I am your son. That’s just fact. Don’t say things like that.” He seemed annoyed with her attitude and, surprisingly, started to lecture her. “Don’t talk like that. People will think you’ve gone crazy from being stuck at home too long.” Charlotte’s fingers clenched, fighting back her rising anger. The contempt in his eyes was unmistakable. She used to let them both walk all over her, but not anymore. She’d decided to leave, and she wouldn’t tolerate their disrespect any longer. She took a deep breath and stood,fixing him with a hard stare.

“You little brat, where are your manners? Is this how you speak to your mother?” Julius froze. “You…” Charlotte calmly picked up her fork and started eating. “Just stop talking. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t want a son like you.” Julius stared at her, stunned. This woman who had always bent over backwards to please him and his father was suddenly different. She had never acted like this before! Back then, she’d run to him with hugs and kisses, always eager to hear about his life at Harrison Villa. Now her words cut like a knife. Julius had never really enjoyed her attention. Her constant hovering and meddling irritated him. He even thought her excessive concern for him was disrespectful to his grandparents. As Julius pulled away, Charlotte’s love never wavered – her eyes always full of warmth when she looked at him. But now she’d just said she didn’t want him as a son. Julius stood there speechless, his face hardening by the second. Given the choice, he’d pick Sarah over her any day. Sarah – the graceful, elegant ballerina who dazzled audiences – would make a much better mother figure. Julius pushed away from the table and stormed upstairs, leaving his dinner untouched. Before her accident, Charlotte would have chased after him, trying to make things right. His feelings had always come first. But this time, she just watched him go, clutching her fork tightly. Her heart hurt, but she pushed it down, feeling a bitter smile tug at her lips. This was the child she’d loved so deeply and raised with all her heart. Now here he was, scolding her, looking at her with the same cold disgust as his father. She forced herself to keep eating, swallowing past the lump in her throat. Upstairs, Julius waited for her usual apology, but for the first time, Charlotte never came. ***** After a long bath, Charlotte felt lighter. Letting go of her desperate need for Arthur’s love was surprisingly freeing. She couldn’t believe she’d wasted so much time chasing after him. She’d really thought if she could just be perfect enough, he’d fall for her. How stupid. Now she knew – love had to start with herself. Coming out of the bathroom, she dug out her old phone from the back of her closet. Five years of dust had collected on it. While it charged, she looked through her clothes. The closet was filled with soft, understated dresses – all picked to match Sarah’s style. Five years of playing dress-up as someone else. She’d been nothing but a stand-in, Sarah’s shadow. Her lip curled in disgust. Without a second thought, she dumped every dress in the trash. She was done being someone’s replacement. Her phone buzzed. An unknown number had sent a photo. The picture showed Arthur in a dim private room, lounging on a sofa. His usual cold expression was there, shirt collar undone, a woman’s hand on his chest. He held her wrist, the dark lighting making everything look intimate. Even in the poor light, she could see that tiny smirk on his face. Her fingers gripped the phone so tight her knuckles turned white. Even though she’d promised herself she was done with him, it still hurt. How had she fallen for someone so heartless? Her hands shook as she saved the photo, each moment reopening old wounds. The next evening, Arthur walked into the house to find Charlotte on the sofa. She looked completely different – she’d put on natural makeup, her curls now straight and pulled back in a simple ponytail. She looked fresh, vibrant, transformed. The desperate housewife was gone. In her place sat someone new, as if she’d finally broken free. “Perfect timing,” Charlotte said coolly, holding up her phone to show him last night’s photo. Arthur walked over slowly, his face a mask. He barely glanced at the screen before his eyes narrowed,questioning her like she was a spy, “you hired someone to spy on me?”

Charlotte was so frustrated she almost laughed. Clearly, he forgot she had amnesia! With an innocent blink, she said, “We’re not even close, so why would I sneak pics of you?” Arthur’s face got colder. He sank into the chair, giving her a weird look—like he knew her, but didn’t. When they first met, she was lively, her eyes bright like stars, showing every emotion. But after marriage, she turned into his perfect little robot wife—no makeup if he said so, dressed how he wanted, no personality, just obedience. Charlotte felt his eyes on her. She tried to stay calm, but her voice shook a bit. “You hooked up with someone else last night, right? You cheated. Got a mistress. Let’s just end this. Perfect timing. I’m over it, and you’ve got someone else. Clean break. Simple as that.” The spark in Arthur’s eyes died, replaced by cold indifference. “I didn’t cheat,” he said calmly, tugging at his tie, “You’ve got it wrong.” Charlotte rolled her eyes at his reply. Seemed he’d only admit it if she caught him in the act. His lack of honesty was frustrating. If he liked Sarah, why not just say so? It wasn’t like he had feelings for her anymore. She frowned, meeting his gaze. “Staying married doesn’t make sense. Maybe I liked you once, but not now. Are you worried about splitting the assets? Fine, I won’t ask for much—just a divorce paper.” Simple enough, right? Now, it was his turn to agree. The marriage between their families was complicated, but Charlotte just wanted a clean break. A peaceful divorce wouldn’t hurt their business ties, so why would he refuse? But Arthur’s eyes turned icy, and the room suddenly felt colder. Charlotte blinked, totally lost. What had she said to make him so angry? Arthur rubbed his temples as a headache crept in. After a sleepless night and barely eating all day, he felt awful. And instead of her usual warmth, all he got was her saying that she didn’t like him. Now, his headache was getting worse. “We’ll discuss divorce when you remember everything,” he said, voice arctic. “I’m starving. Make me dinner.” Charlotte froze, realizing her fake amnesia was pointless. The thought made her sick – he spends the night with another woman, then waltzes in demanding dinner? The nerve. “Do it yourself.” She answered. Arthur doubted his ears as he stared at her, face blank.

Then something hit him like a truck. Right. Amnesia. She couldn’t cook before they got married. His frustration spiked. Ever since she lost her memory, his perfectly controlled world had gone to hell. Like right now, Charlotte was still pushing for a divorce. Seeing Arthur’s cold look, she didn’t flinch. “Just think about it,” she continued coolly. “We’d both be better off.” “What about Julius?” Arthur shot back. “What happens to him if we split?” Charlotte paused before replying. “Like he’d care. He doesn’t see me as his mom, right?” Thank God for amnesia – it made her bold enough to say what she’d always swallowed down. The knot in her chest loosened a bit. Finally. Arthur’s eyes drilled into her, like he was trying to read her mind. She stared right back. “If he cared, he’d have shown me concern at the hospital. Let’s face it – we never got along.” She took a deep breath. “Why drag out this toxic mess? He’s a kid. He’ll be fine.” Charlotte silently prayed Arthur would just say yes. But no. His face went full ice age, dropping the room temp. She wasn’t acting. Her face was blank, her voice empty when talking about Julius. No emotion. This wasn’t the Charlotte he remembered. Before, she’d loved Julius deeply, even when he treated her with indifference. She had always been gentle, always affectionate. Whenever he came home, her eyes used to light up with love for him. But now, she was calmly talking about divorce, like it was someone else’s life. A mix of frustration and confusion stirred in Arthur. But what could he do? She had amnesia, after all. “How much have you forgotten?” Arthur asked, his voice low and sharp. Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t expected that. But she quickly answered, “I don’t remember anything about you or your family. I just know I’m Charlotte Hardwick, from the Hardwick family.” She looked genuinely puzzled. “I can’t even remember why we got married.” Her confusion seemed so real that it almost made him doubt. Arthur’s jaw tightened. Seemed she had forgotten everything from the last five years. No wonder she felt like a stranger. “This can wait until Julius gets back,” he said flatly, turning away and heading for the stairs. Charlotte felt a bit relieved. Finally, he seemed to be softening. But she still had to wait another week, playing this part like a never-ending cycle of torture. That night, as she went to her room, she reached for the light switch. Just as her fingers touched it, she was slammed against the door. Then lips crashed into hers. She gasped, trying to push him away. Arthur was kissing her with no warning. The bedroom lights flickered on, blinding her for a second. Charlotte shoved him off, breathless and furiously wiping her lips. “What the hell are you doing?!” His eyes turned dark—like, seriously dark. That look of disgust on her face just made him angrier. All the anger she thought had cooled? No, it came rushing back.

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Abigail risked her life in the inferno to save her son, only to witness her husband and child escaping with another woman—her husband’s first love! Alive from the flames but dead inside for heartbreak, she made one bold choice: file for divorce and reclaim her life. But as the ashes settled, the father and son were left drowning in regret, begging the woman they had abandoned.

My mom had never celebrated my birthday because it happened to be the same day my sister died. On my sister’s birthday, she made me wear her clothes and eat the seafood my sister liked. Once, I ended up in the hospital with a severe allergic reaction, but my mom just told the doctor, “She ate seafood because she craved it.” When I got accepted to a college, she flipped out and insisted I change my name to my sister’s, claiming, “Your sister never got to go to college, so why should you?” I ran out crying and bumped into Jonas, who was smoking outside. He offered me his hand and said, “Wanna go watch the sunset together?” I made the most rebellious choice ever and hopped on his motorcycle. After I disappeared, Mom called me, saying, “Hilary, come back. I’ll celebrate your birthday this time.”

My boyfriend, Bert Evans, had promised to propose to me on our fifth anniversary. However, on that day, he reserved the mall and threw a grand birthday party for his close female friend, Della Flynn. Looking at the diamond ring about the size of a pigeon’s egg on Della’s finger, I had naively thought it was meant for me. “Della, I want to give you a birthday party that you will never forget,” Bert said loudly as if announcing something important. Then, he took the tab from an empty soda can and handed it to me. “Those tacky things are not worthy of you. You deserve something more special.” He took my hand and put the soda can tab onto my finger, treating it as a proposal. He gave Della a grand birthday party but left me with nothing but heartbreak. Later, when he found out I was going to marry someone else, he came to me with a ring, got down on one knee, and begged me to marry him instead. ***** After the birthday party, Bert supported Della, who was dressed in an evening gown, out of the mall. The night wind was chilly. He took off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. As they got into the car, Bert finally noticed me standing there, looking dazed and heartbroken. He rolled down the window and looked at me. “Are you lame? Hurry up. What are you upset about? It’s just a birthday party for Della, not a proposal.” My gaze fixed on Della sitting in the passenger seat, admiring the diamond ring on her finger. I snorted coldly, “Weren’t you supposed to propose to me today? You tricked me here just to watch you two be all lovey-dovey, huh?” Bert shrugged, resting his hand on the edge of the window, saying with a mocking smile, “Lucy Perry, haven’t I proposed to you? Are you getting in or not? If not, I’m leaving.” I glanced at the soda can tab in my hand. Its sharp edges had already cut a deep gash into my skin. “So, I’m worthless to you, huh?” With that, I threw the soda can tab onto the ground where Bert’s car was parked. Della frowned, looking in my direction. “Lucy, you… Are you angry? Bert only bought me a 50-thousand-dollar diamond ring. Is that really worth getting this upset over? Besides, it’s my birthday. Why do you have to compete for his attention today?” Bert turned to buckle Della’s seatbelt, then turned back to reassure her. “Don’t be upset, Della. That’s just how Lucy is. She has always been jealous. Forget it. She’s just wasting my time. Let’s go.” Della had a triumphant look as she rolled up the car window. I took a deep breath, standing frozen in place, watching Bert drive away. A huge disappointment overwhelmed me. I couldn’t snap out of it for a while. I had thought the elaborate scene Bert had carefully set up was for the proposal. Unexpectedly, the huge backdrop displayed Della’s name. He hadn’t taken anything I said to heart, but he perfectly remembered every detail about Della. I arrived at the mall, meticulously dressed, and I should have been the star of the grand scene. Instead, I wasn’t even a supporting character. The gown that had hung at home for half a month, and the ring kept in a box, were both on Della today. I had imagined myself in that gown, with Bert proposing to me with that ring. That feeling would certainly be extremely happy. But the reality struck hard and fast. He handed me a soda can tab from a drink he had finished and put it on my finger. In the end, our relationship over the years meant nothing to him.

As night fell, there was a light snow. I pulled my coat tighter around me and took out my phone to call my mom, Ebony Perry. “Mom, I’ll listen to you about my marriage.” Ebony paused for a moment before responding, “Alright, I’ll send you Henry’s contact information. Baby, I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.” She didn’t say too much, just a few words of advice before hanging up. I seemed to have lost all interest in my future life because of Bert. My parents had always mentioned Henry Ross, a potential match for me, but I had resisted and refused them. Now, I thought even if Henry wasn’t perfect, he couldn’t be worse than Bert. It was a short distance from the mall to my house, but it took me two hours. When I finally arrived, Bert hadn’t returned yet. The house was messy, with his clothes scattered on the floor. If it were before, I would have immediately cleaned them, but now, I didn’t want to do it at all. I threw all the clothes on the floor into the trash can. The carefully prepared candlelit dinner on the table was tossed into the garbage. I had imagined that after the proposal, we would return home to a blissful night. But now, it was just my wishful thinking. Before going to bed, I picked up my phone and scrolled through my social media feed. Della had posted several updates: [Mr. Evans, thank you for giving me a memorable birthday.] [The gown was beautiful, and I loved it. I hope next year’s birthday will be just as special, with you by my side and full of surprises.] I scrolled past these posts and saw Bert’s comment below. Bert, who had always been aloof, would publicly post about Della. Despite my requests, he had never made our relationship public. [Della, you’re the beautiful princess tonight.] Those few words stabbed at my heart. What I had desperately sought, Della had obtained easily. I pondered, but I couldn’t figure out what I lacked compared to Della. Shedding tears over Bert wasn’t worth it, but recalling our five-year relationship, I couldn’t hold back any longer. Tears soaked my pillow. Nearly at dawn, Bert finally came home. Perhaps because of the snow, he exuded a strong chill. Instinctively, I moved to the side. He pulled me back into his embrace, whispering into my ear, his warm breath caressing every inch of my skin, “Lucy, are you still upset about tonight?” Seeing that I didn’t respond, he teasingly nibbled my earlobe. “Why aren’t you talking?” Disgusted, I pushed Bert’s hand away and wriggled out of his grasp. The unique scent of Della’s perfume permeated his body. It almost made me vomit. “Bert, let’s break up.” I lay flat, blankly staring at the ceiling, my eyes showing an unprecedented calmness. Bert abruptly sat up, turning on the light and staring at me. “Are you crazy, Lucy? You want to break up over something so trivial? You’re overly petty. I can propose again on another day.” His gaze turned fierce, and the earlier tenderness had gone. He still didn’t realize that his feelings for Della had long surpassed those of ordinary friends, and he refused to admit it, always insisting that Della was just his friend. I didn’t bother arguing with him. “Yes, I’m too petty, so you’d better find someone as considerate as Della.”

Bert sighed, pulled out a cigarette from the cigarette box on the nightstand, and started smoking, seemingly lost in thought. I wanted to stop him but held back. I had told him to put dirty clothes in the washing machine, take out the trash when he went out, and not to smoke in the bedroom countless times, but he never remembered any of them. Maybe because I had always indulged him, he never took my words seriously. I was tired. Since I couldn’t change him, maybe it was time to part ways. Bert said with a straight face, flicking ash onto the floor, “Work on your temper, Lucy. Besides me, no one else could tolerate you. Can you stop being so hostile towards Della? She’s my friend, and you’re my girlfriend. You’re both important to me. I won’t break up with you.” He thought I was just throwing a jealous tantrum, unaware that I was serious this time. ***** The next morning, Bert had already left when I woke up. I picked up my phone and saw a new friend request on WhatsApp. Last night, I had forgotten to contact Henry, so early in the morning, he had taken the initiative to send a friend request. I accepted the request, and Henry immediately messaged me: [The wedding is in ten days. If it’s too soon, we can postpone it.] Because of what happened with Bert, I dared not have expectations for any man and show my whole feelings, fearing it would end up hurting me once more. I replied: [Alright, let’s do it your way.] After that, I went to the office to finish up my resignation procedure before heading home. Since Bert and I had lived together, I had been paying the rent of the apartment. I posted the sublet information on a website after sorting out the company affairs. Just as I stepped out of the company building, I received a call from Bert. “Lucy, come to Stary Bar. I have something urgent to tell you. Hurry up.” He sounded anxious, and through the phone, I could hear Della and his friends’ voices. Because of these friends, Bert hadn’t been to the office in a long time. It wouldn’t be surprising if the company soon went bust. “Okay, I have something to tell you too.” I got into a ride-hailing car and headed straight to Stary Bar. Pushing open the private room door, I entered, and a cacophony of noise greeted me. Bert, who had been holding Della around the waist, reluctantly moved his arm when he saw me. Bert’s friends laughed, “She really came at the drop of a hat. Bert does have a loyal pet.” “You know, the proposal ring Bert gave her was just a soda can tab!” Those people around Bert recounted the embarrassing moment I had been in that day. I glanced at them indifferently and walked over to Bert’s side. The alcohol had tinted his usually pale face with a rosy hue. He pointed to a glass of alcohol on the table. “Lucy, you love me the most, right?” I snorted coldly, “Cut the crap. Just say what you want.” Bert’s soft gaze turned colder as he pushed the glass of alcohol toward me. “Della lost a round of Truth or Dare. You know she’s allergic to alcohol, so drink this for her. Anyway, you’ve covered for me plenty of times.” Bert still remembered those times I had drunk for him. In the early days of the company, there were many business dinners, and every time, I would go along, worried about his health. Seeing him vomit blood from drinking too much, I felt heartbroken. From then on, I drank every glass of alcohol for him. All his projects were achieved by my cups of alcohol. But now, he was asking me to drink for Della.   “I came to tell you something, not to drink for you,” I sneered. Della gave a half-smile and stood up straight, staring at me. “Do you want to know what Bert said after he lost a round of Truth or Dare? He said you’re not fit to lick my boots. That’s why he gave you that proposal ring. Isn’t that funny?” She leaned closer to me, the strong, cheap perfume on her body hitting my nose. I instinctively stepped back, putting some distance between us. “I’m talking to Bert. You don’t have to show off. I’m not interested in what he said.” Della’s smile faded as she huffed and sat down on the sofa. Bert, annoyed by my attitude, rubbed his temples and looked up at me. “What do you want to say? You want a breakup? Or are you still upset about what happened last night? Be mature, okay? You’re not a kid.” “I’m serious, Bert. Let’s break up.” My words were resolute. Bert seemed unconvinced. He sneered, picked up the glass of alcohol in front of him, and poured it over my head. “You know what you are saying? Get a grip, Lucy. Is that enough? If not, I have more.” He refilled the glass and continued to pour alcohol over me. Tears mixed with the alcohol, wetting my face. Once again, he humiliated me in public, just like yesterday. Della crossed her arms, watching this scene with amusement, while the others on the couches egged Bert on. “See? I knew it! Even if Bert treats Lucy like this, she won’t leave him. She’s really devoted.” “Yeah, but only Della deserves to be with Bert.” “I bet Lucy will get angry but won’t leave, just like yesterday. Anyone want to bet?” The others nodded in agreement, while Bert stood there, remaining indifferent to their mocking words towards me. I coldly scanned the room, finally fixing my gaze on Bert. My lips trembled, but no words came out. Turning away, I ran out of the private room. This time, I wouldn’t give him the chance to hurt me anymore. As I walked out of the bar, I realized Bert had followed me. He stood at the door, calling out to me. I thought he had changed his mind, but it was only to scold me for Della’s sake. Bert warned me, looking fierce, “You didn’t drink for Della, and she ended up drinking herself and now has an allergic reaction. Lucy, if anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive you.” Before I could respond, he rushed back inside. Soon, he came out with the feeble Della in his arms. Those people hurriedly took Della to the hospital, while I, drenched and shivering from the cold wind outside, stumbled a few steps before being knocked down by a passing motorbike. I fell hard onto the ground. The rider didn’t show any remorse, scowling and scolding, “Watch where you’re going, idiot!” He then sped off. I stared at the bloody wounds on my palms and knees, the sharp pain making it difficult for me to stand up. After a while, I managed to get up, leaning heavily on my legs. By the time I got home, it was dark outside. Shaking, I went to take a shower and finally had time to treat my injuries. I knew Bert had called me there to appease Della, but I had gone anyway to tell him face-to-face that we were done. I had said that, but I had endured humiliation from Bert and his friends. After today, I never wanted to have anything to do with them again. It wasn’t completely dark yet. I packed my clothes into a suitcase. Everything else from living with Bert, I threw them into a box and intended to throw it out downstairs. After finishing all this, I picked up my phone and saw Bert’s message: [I’ll be home in half an hour. Make dinner to apologize to Della.] It was sent an hour ago. Seeing the cold, commanding words, I replied: [I’m getting married on the 28th. If you are free, bring Della to the wedding feast.] Just as I sent the message, there was a knock on the door.

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My husband, Roy Morrison, made me his and Karen Marshall’s son’s surrogate mother, and I pretended to have no clue about that. Instead, their son, Frank Morrison, was carefully raised by me for twenty-five years. When Frank finally got the shares of my company and took over the Hawkins Group, Roy showed up with Karen, who was in a wheelchair. “Gloria Hawkins, Frank is our son. You have dominated him for twenty-five years; now it’s time to release him and let him be with his own mother, Karen,” said Roy to me. Grinning meaningfully, I replied, “Sure, but I’m afraid Frank will say no.” “Gloria, how can you treat Frank like that? He’s still a little boy, and you plan to drown him with these piles of homework?” Karen used to be Roy’s younger brother’s wife. She pulled the weeping Frank into her arms with a coax. “Frank, don’t cry. Mom is so bad, right? What are these math quizzes for? You’re still a child!” Then, she dropped the pen and took Frank’s hand while saying to him tenderly, “How about we go to the yard and do some research about insects?” Playing with insects was one of Frank’s favorites, and his cloudy little face immediately turned sunny as he threw himself into Karen’s arms. Suddenly, he timidly turned his head to me as if asking for my permission. Karen’s husband passed away in a car accident, and she also lost her legs just to save my husband. Fate deprived her of her chance to be a mother from that nightmare. Therefore, Karen poured all her maternal love into Frank. People praised this young woman for being so benevolent since she cared for her deceased husband’s parents even after his death while looking after her nephew like he was her son. Despite her reliance on the wheelchair, she still persisted in walking Frank to and back from school every day, not even daunted by snow. Once there was a blizzard, and Karen fell down from the wheelchair with her forehead bumped, bleeding. However, she still showed up at the gate of Frank’s school in the afternoon with her wound roughly bandaged. She was in charge of everything that Frank put into his mouth, chose all the outfits for this little boy, and always stood by him when he went to drink water or to play. All of this selfless and meticulous care for Frank was, as claimed by Karen because she wanted someone to be there for her, a wretched and infertile woman, when she aged. The very fact was, that Frank was Karen’s biological son with my husband. Reluctant to expose the truth, I just indulged her excessive maternal love for Frank. To be honest, the company wore me out, and piles of contracts and documents needed my signature. Besides, Frank needed company during his childhood. But letting Karen be with Frank didn’t mean giving in to my way of education. I still brought Frank to various activities to teach him what the big picture was and the correct outlook on life. After all, Frank’s having a life view like a homewrecker was the last thing I wanted in my whole life. Back to what was happening now, Karen was about to take Frank to the yard when I strode over to pull my son back. “Karen, don’t spoil him. You don’t want him to become a lazy, cocky man, right?” I said. She replied impatiently, “It’s just a break. Why so fussy?” As she said that, she stroked Frank’s face and continued, “Frank’s gonna be the CEO of both the Hawkins and the Morrison Group. He’s not like those sad sacks. Even if he can do nothing, people will swarm to work for him.” Then, she turned her wheelchair and took Frank’s hand. I couldn’t help but sneer at this shortsighted woman. Sparing myself the trouble of debating with her, I pulled Frank back. He was my nominal son, and I would definitely not give in even an inch in terms of his education. Unexpectedly, the pull was so hard that Karen fell onto the floor with a painful moan. Then, she covered her head and curled up on the floor. A trace of jealousy and hatred flashed in her gaze at me. All of a sudden, someone rushed to us while inquiring anxiously, “What happened? Why did you fall, Karen?” Then, a robust man strode to Karen and carried her in his arms. The terrifying expression on her face immediately switched to a delicate frown, tears rolling down her cheek. She muttered, “Roy, I just wanted to play with Frank and let him feel relaxed a little bit. He has been working on those math problems for more than an hour. But Gloria blamed me for spoiling Frank, and she just…” Meanwhile, Karen hugged Roy’s arm and sobbed. Roy’s face obviously dropped after learning the whole story and reprimanded me, “I know you’re a workaholic, but can you please spare my son? He’s only eight years old! Don’t brainwash my son with your creed of life and make him a robot!”

I calmly looked at Roy, the man I entrusted myself to. Although he was not a very ambitious or competitive man, he was born into a family as wealthy as mine with good looks. For people from powerful families like us, marriage was less about one’s true feelings but was more about the pursuit of maximum benefits. I had to confess that I didn’t love Roy very much, let alone treat him with tenderness and admiration. As the second son of the Morrison family, Roy had no advantage in the competition for the inheritance, considering his elder brother, Hank Morrison, occupied a rather important position in the Morrison Group, while his illegitimate younger brother, Alan Morrison, won the favor of the elders. So, pursuing me was his best choice. The Morrison family and the Hawkins family were respectively recognized as the most affluent families in the northern and southern regions of the country. As the only heiress to the Hawkins family, I had the undoubted right to dispose of my family business. At that time, our families were negotiating about a five-year cooperation in new energy resources, and Roy treated me so tenderly and never defied me during that period of time. Meanwhile, due to a disagreement with somebody, I married Roy in a fit of pique. Then, I stared at Roy coldly. “Frank will take over the Morrison and the Hawkins Group someday. You really think it’s good for him to grow up without any guidance or restraints?” “A spoiled heir will be very likely to ruin your family business that you take over from your forefathers,” I added. Roy wavered after hearing that. Just as he looked at Frank, who was still weeping, Karen cut in timidly, “Gloria, don’t be an alarmist. Taking a short break doesn’t mean Frank will be ruined. He is only eight years old. You can’t rob him of his childhood for money.” Then, she looked at Roy with pitiful eyes. “Roy, what do you think?” Roy lowered his head to show her a smile and put her back into the wheelchair. Then, he carried Frank with one hand and railed at me, “You really should learn how to be a tame woman like Karen. Be a good mother, and stop just talking about money all the time. You look impersonal.” Sneering, I glared at the loving family in front of me and retorted, “May I remind you that Frank is my son. An outsider like her shouldn’t have any right to intervene in his education, right?” After saying that, I provoked Karen with my eyes. Roy was terrified as he looked at Karen and shouted at me, “Watch your mouth, Gloria! Karen saved my life, and my son will be hers. It’s a warning—never call Karen an outsider ever again as long as I’m still in this family. You dare to say that again, and I will definitely make you regret it.” After that, he wheeled Karen out in her wheelchair with Frank. The joyful laughter leaped into the house just after a while. Standing on the balcony on the second floor, I saw Frank riding on Roy’s shoulders and Karen smiling with satisfaction, and sighed at the younger vision of me. If I hadn’t been so strong-headed, maybe Roy could have lived a happy life with Karen without me as their barricade. As Roy backed her, Karen became even more cocky. She stopped asking about my opinion and directly managed the family affair on her own. Watching Karen and Roy flirting, I even felt pity for them since they couldn’t just fuck in this very house. Karen ruined her life just for a hypocritical man like Roy. I wondered whether she was gonna regret this decision someday. As for Frank’s education, I could tolerate them looking after and playing with him, but I would always be at the helm of Frank’s cultivation. I told the vice president of the Hawkins Group to take care of all the unnecessary cocktail parties while spending my nights reading with Frank and telling him stories. Every summer and winter vacation, I would take Frank to top universities around the world and lead him to the world of academics. Meanwhile, I sent him to learn business administration regardless of the sky-high tuition fees. I could tell that Frank didn’t like my seriousness, but as he grew up and had a wider horizon, he started enjoying talking about life with me and sharing his unusual but wonderful thoughts. Every time I brought Frank out for more than half a month, Karen would bombard me with numerous calls, asking me to put more clothes on him or not to put strange foods in his mouth. Seeing Frank frowning at those calls, I asked him with a smile, “Frank, do you think that I have been too strict with you since your childhood and am not as gentle and caring as Karen?”

After pondering for a while, Frank said, “Mom, trees need help to grow upright, right? I am a man. I should work hard to learn so that I can contribute to the country and society like some of my predecessors. That is a meaningful life.” I patted him on the shoulder. He was surely the son of a great expert. Genetics was amazing. With the cultivation of me, Karen, and Roy, Frank grew up a hard-working and outgoing young man who outshone his peers among other wealthy families. At the age of eighteen, he successfully matriculated in the best engineering college in this country. Roy’s father, Teddy Morrison, held high expectations for Frank and gifted him twenty percent of the Morrison Group’s shares as encouragement. The funny thing was that neither Hank’s daughter nor son gained even one percent, not to mention he himself only held twenty percent of the shares. During the last eighteen years, Roy had established his status due to the investment from the cooperation of the Hawkins Group, enabling him to surpass his elder brother. Teddy nodded at every decision Roy made without blinking his eyes because he knew Roy got me behind his back. Even if there were something wrong, I would clean his ass with my own money. Those shrewd senior managers in the Morrison Group had already stood on Roy’s side and made Hank a figurehead of this company. Three years later, Frank graduated and returned home. On that very day, I showed him a four-hour video of the shit between his real father and real mother. Frank, staying mute for like a century, finally managed to utter, “Mom, what do you want to do?” I asked him really calmly, “Are you sure you can put aside their love and devotion to you for twenty years and turn to my side?” Thinking for a while, Frank said, “Mom, I know what I am doing. If he still has the slightest bit of conscience, I will do it softer.” I patted my son on the shoulder and smiled with relief. My little boy had grown up and become more sophisticated than me in some aspects. I knew he wouldn’t let me down. According to my suggestion, Frank soon interned at the Morrison Group. With the support and guidance of his father and grandfather, Frank tripled the corporate stock price. Facing such a big achievement, Teddy began to think about handing the Morrison Group directly to Frank. A couple of days before Frank’s twenty-fifth birthday, we had a family meeting. I proposed that I wanted to transfer all my shares to Frank and let him take over the Hawkins Group to enjoy my retirement. “I’m just a woman, after all, and I’m tired after working so strenuously for twenty years,” I said. Roy’s face was brimming with joy after hearing my decision. Then, I glanced at Karen, who sat in a corner. Her eyebrows raised as she was probably trying her best to suppress the grin on the corner of her mouth. Nevertheless, the excitement in her eyes betrayed her. Meanwhile, Teddy tapped his cane in deep thought. If Frank controlled the Hawkins Group, he would absolutely not be able to serve the Morrison Group anymore. After all, the Hawkins Group and the Morrison Group hadn’t been merged together. Teddy was very reluctant to see his grandson make another corporation thrive. Suddenly, he took my hint that I meant to merge the Hawkins and the Morrison Group into one and form a company mainly led by the old Morrison Group named the ZenithPlex Group. With Frank as its CEO, the ZenithPlex Group would rank first among all the companies in Zephyria. Teddy was thrilled at this conception. The Morrison Group would still be itself as Frank, his grandfather, took it over, while the Hawkins Group was totally wiped off in the business field. The Morrison Group would still thrive in Zephyria after merging with the Hawkins Group. Hank, however, opposed this idea, and I just acquired all his shares at a higher price to erase this trouble of my plan. Facing Teddy’s pressure, Hank finally surrendered and left in a rage with the money. Karen represented her deceased husband and approved my plan without hesitation. She said generously, “Alan passed away, and I don’t have any children. I always treat Frank as my own flesh and blood. I will count on him when I am old, so let this young chap have everything.”   After discussion, we planned to hold a press conference on Frank’s twenty-fifth birthday to announce the merger of the Morrison and the Hawkins Group with Frank taking over this new company. People flooded into the press conference, and all the upper circle of Zephyria attended it, too. The whole place was brimmed with jealous exclaims and congratulations. From now on, the ZenithPlex Group would earn their admiration and be the most optional choice of their business partner. In the presence of lawyers, Frank walked onto the stage with all the shareholders’ trust and signed the contract of share transfer. Then, he gave an inaugural address. The moment he finished his speech, applause broke out in the crowd. Right after his speech, Roy wheeled Karen, who was rugged out at her best, to the stage. With Roy’s help, she managed to stand up with her feeble legs trembling and hugged Frank. She said excitedly, “My son, you finally grow up. May days of being forced to separate my child finally come to an end!” Then, she pulled out a DNA test she conducted twenty years ago and handed it to me in front of the cameras. “Gloria, you hated me because Roy cared about me, so you cooked up a car accident to kill Alan and disable me. You even took my son away!” Glaring at Karen, who was engrossed in a revenge drama, I was kind of surprised to know that she could still reduce her moral bottom line when it was already so low. Maybe that was why she was not religious because she wasn’t afraid to be punished by God when making those things up. Everyone was attracted to Karen’s story with sobs and couldn’t help looking back and forth at Roy, Frank, and me. Then, whispers quietly broke out. “What’s this all about?” said a person. Another murmured, “Frank is not Ms. Hawkins’ son?” “She robbed motherhood of the widow of Mr. Morrison’s younger brother?” someone chimed in. “But that young man is an adult now. If Karen reclaims her motherhood right now, Ms. Hawkins’ years of raising Frank will be in vain!” “Hold on. If Ms. Hawkins transfers her company to Frank now, she will have nothing left if Karen’s claim is true.” Meanwhile, Roy just said to me in disappointment, “Gloria, I know it was the shock of giving birth to a dead infant that drove you mad, making you regard Frank as your own flesh and blood. For two decades, Karen didn’t reclaim her son for you. Now, Frank has grown up, and he deserves to know who his mother really is.” I just stared at Roy, who seemed to be moved by his own lie. He and Karen must be the best work of Cupid as they were all gifted liars. Then, I glanced at Teddy, who awkwardly cleaned his throat and averted my gaze with his face turning to another side. Now, everything was crystal clear. The whole family tacitly approved Roy’s plan to borrow my uterus and even helped with it. No wonder none of them doubted why the widow of an illegitimate son of Teddy could still stay in the family. They used me to cultivate a qualified heir and boost their family business. What a nice plan. Unfortunately, it would have been even nicer if I hadn’t keenly discerned it years ago. I could have had every drop of blood drained by those vampires and been kicked out of the Morrison family, suffering bullying and insults every day. Showering in people’s astonished eyes, I smiled at Frank and asked, “Frank, what about your opinion? Recognize Karen as your real mother and kick me out of this family, or treat me as your mother, considering my effort for your achievement. Which one will you choose?”

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On my birthday, Logan Mitchell, my husband, told me he was too busy with work to celebrate with me. Instead, he had someone deliver a cake. He even called to reassure me, as if that would make up for it. “Babe, I can’t be with you today. You’re not mad at me, right? But I got a surprise for you in the cake!” I stared at the property deed I had just pulled out of the cake. The name on it wasn’t mine. It belonged to a girl I’d never heard of. I took a deep breath and said calmly, “No, I’m not mad.” I wasn’t angry. But I knew, at that moment, that our seven-year marriage was over. ***** I threw the cake in the trash and mailed the property deed to the address on the packaging. Then, I sat at the edge of my bed, feeling completely hollow, like my soul had been drained out of me. I never thought the boy who once swore he’d have no reason to live if I didn’t choose him would turn out to be so… ordinary, so filthy. What disgusted me even more was that the apartment he bought for her was in our neighborhood and the same building. His favorite saying came to mind. “The safest place is often the most dangerous.” Thinking back, I should’ve seen this coming. His affair had probably been going on for six months now. For half a year, he’d been getting work calls in the middle of the night and leaving, saying he had to put in extra hours. It wasn’t even an hour after I tossed the cake that Logan called. “Babe, don’t be mad, okay? Just wait for me to get home so I can explain.” I hung up, bitterness welling up inside me. Explain what, exactly? That he just made the one mistake all men make? As I sat there in a daze, a friend request popped up in my contacts. I tapped on it. The profile picture looked familiar. I’d seen it before on Logan’s phone. The contact name he’d saved was Max Emerson. Max was his male assistant. But this profile picture was a woman. And he was the one who kept calling in the middle of the night about work emergencies. I had met Max before. But Logan never let me hear his calls with him. So this had been right in front of me the whole time. I accepted the request. The girl messaged me first. [Hi, Vanessa! I’m Madison Brooks.] I let out a dry laugh. The same name that had been on the property deed. Then, another message came through. [Vanessa, don’t get the wrong idea about Logan. There’s nothing between us. He just treats me like a sister.] [If it bothers you, I can give up the apartment.] Then, she sent a sticker of a teary-eyed, pitiful-looking cartoon. I knew exactly why she was reaching out now. She’d been hidden away for six months. And now? She finally had a chance to step into the light. I ignored her and checked her Instagram instead. Her posts from the last six months were all about Logan. I scrolled all the way down to the beginning of their first meeting. The photo was taken in a hospital. She was lying in a bed, and Logan was peeling an apple, carving it into the shape of a rabbit. The caption read: [Oh my God, I think I’m in love. This accident must’ve been fate bringing us together!] Carving apples into rabbits. Logan’s signature trick. Back when we were young, he’d always do that just to make me laugh. I checked the date. And suddenly, I remembered something. That was the day I had a miscarriage. On his way to the hospital, Logan hit a young girl with his car. He ended up staying at the hospital, taking care of her for two whole weeks. When I finally recovered enough, I offered to go visit her with him. He told me no and said I had just gotten better and shouldn’t worry too much. And I, like a fool, actually believed it. I thought I had married the right person. I thought he was still the same boy who had promised to love me forever. But love was just an act. And he missed his calling. He would’ve made one hell of an actor.

When Logan came home and saw me sitting there calmly, waiting for him, he hesitated before walking over and sitting beside me. Then, in an attempt to please me, he pulled out a necklace. “Babe, this is the surprise I wanted to give you tonight.” The necklace in his hand was one I had admired for a long time but never bought for myself. That was just the kind of person Logan was, full of surprises, always remembering the things I liked. And yet, even now, I still couldn’t believe someone like him would cheat. He avoided talking about the affair, hoping that a gift would smooth things over. But looking at this necklace only made me feel sick. Because today was also Madison’s birthday, an hour ago, she had posted a picture of herself wearing this exact necklace on Instagram, along with a photo of a property deed. It was clear how much Logan adored her. Even after knowing I had caught him cheating, he still chose to indulge her longer. Once, all of his love belonged to me. But now, he had given it to someone else. “Let’s get a divorce, Logan.” My sudden words shattered the illusion of peace between us. The smile on Logan’s face froze. He didn’t yell or argue, almost as if he had expected this. Instead, he leaned back on the couch, looking utterly defeated. “The divorce procedure will take three months. Think it over. Without me, you have nothing. I just made a mistake, that’s all. You don’t have to do this so quickly. “Madison is just a young girl who recently graduated. Don’t go after her. She’s only at the beginning of her life. This is all on me. Whatever you want to do, do it to me.” A sharp pain twisted inside me. Logan hadn’t just divided his love. His heart had already chosen a side. And he was right. I had nothing. I had been raised by my grandmother, and when she passed, she entrusted me to him. Now, I had no one. But that didn’t mean I lacked the courage to start over. I stood up, ready to speak, but a sudden pain flared in my stomach, making me break out in a cold sweat. This was a problem I had developed years ago when I had scrimped and saved to help Logan pay off his debts after his failed startup. Back then, Logan had been beside himself with worry. He had searched everywhere for remedies, cooked nutritious meals for me no matter how exhausted he was, and made sure I took my medicine every day. Because of his care, I hadn’t had an episode in a long time. Logan rushed me to the hospital in a panic. The pain was bad this time. I needed to stay on an IV drip for a few days. It was already past midnight. I told Logan to go home and rest, but he refused, insisting on staying with me. The scene felt so familiar. There was a time when I had spent an entire night in pain, unable to sleep, and Logan had stayed up with me, on edge, not daring to rest. That night, he had been so distressed he even cried with me. But things were different now. Thinking I was asleep, Logan took out his phone and called Madison. “Baby, go to sleep, okay? I can’t be with you tonight.” “But I don’t want to! She’s already asleep anyway. Just sneak over for a bit, please? I have a surprise for you. You’ll regret it if you don’t come.” Logan didn’t answer right away. He hesitated. Then, after making sure I was really asleep, he left. Only after hearing the door close did I finally let out a quiet, pained gasp. But no matter how much my body hurt, it was nothing compared to the pain in my heart.

I didn’t know when I fell asleep, but when I woke up, the sun was already up. Logan was sitting by the hospital bed, resting his chin on his hand, dozing off. It was as if he had never left. The IV drip had already been changed to a new bottle. He must have come back about an hour ago. My stomach was empty, and the hunger was making me uncomfortable. I reached for my phone on the bedside table, planning to order some food. But my small movement startled Logan. He looked delighted for a second when he saw me awake, then quickly noticed what I was doing. He smiled and said, “Are you hungry? I made some soup to warm your stomach. Wait here while I go heat it up.” That was when I noticed the pink food container sitting on the side table. I frowned, wanting to refuse, but before I could say anything, Logan had already grabbed the container and was heading out. Before leaving, he ruffled my hair just like he used to and told me to wait for him. Watching his back as he left, a bitter, nauseating feeling twisted inside me. Even now, he was using Madison’s food container. On my way home, Logan called. “Vanessa, why did you leave? Where are you now?” “I went home.” “Why didn’t you tell me? Do you know I stayed with you all night? I’m exhausted. Can you stop throwing tantrums?” Hearing him take credit for staying overnight, I almost laughed. “Then just think of it as me throwing a tantrum.” I hung up and told the driver to take me to the law firm instead. I printed several copies of the divorce agreement. While waiting in the car, I played on my phone for a bit and stumbled upon a viral video. Someone was being beaten up for being a homewrecker. And the homewrecker? None other than Madison. Even better, the ones beating her up were familiar faces, Logan’s sister, Sophia Grayson, and his mother, Evelyn Mitchell. Madison was pinned to the ground, getting punched and kicked. Her clothes were torn, exposing more than they should. She lay there, barely moving, her body and the ground stained with bright red blood. Someone must have called the police because soon enough, sirens blared, and both the police and an ambulance arrived. All three of them were taken away. When I got home, I was still wondering why his mother and sister had attacked Madison. Then Logan stormed in, his face twisted in fury. Before I could say a word, a stinging slap landed across my cheek. I stared at him in shock. Anger and disbelief surged through me. This was the first time he had ever hit me. “I told you to leave Madison alone! She’s just a young girl who just started working. Why are you so cruel?” Logan spat through clenched teeth. I held my face, my gaze turning ice cold. “What did I do to her? You’re talking about how your mom and sister beat her up because she was the other woman? “I didn’t tell them, Logan. And I wouldn’t waste my breath doing so.” “Don’t lie, Vanessa! If not for you, why would my mom and sister go after her? Do you have any idea that she…” Logan suddenly stopped, looking away evasively. “She’s not in good health. This is my final warning to you.” I felt a crushing pain gripping my chest, making it hard to breathe. What he stopped himself from saying… Madison was pregnant with his child. And me? After my miscarriage six months ago, the doctor said I might never be able to conceive again. So, he had wasted no time finding someone else to have his baby. Right now, I was his wife, yet he was standing here, defending his mistress to my face. He had never felt more like a stranger to me than he did at this moment. The air between us froze. Then, a sudden knock at the door broke the silence. “Mom? Sophia? What are you two doing here?” Logan had just opened the door when he saw Evelyn and Sophia standing outside, both fuming with rage. “What’s your relationship with Madison? “Why did you bail her out, too?” Sophia jabbed a finger at Logan and shoved him hard, her eyes blazing with anger. Her emotions were completely out of control. Evelyn quickly pulled her daughter back and then glared at Logan. “Logan, you better explain yourself! Why are you protecting that homewrecker? Don’t forget who your real family is!” Logan sighed helplessly and looked at both of them. “Mom, Sophia, don’t listen to Vanessa’s nonsense. Madison is just a kid who’s new to society. You didn’t even get the facts straight before attacking her. “You even ruined her reputation! If it weren’t for me, you two wouldn’t be standing here right now.” Their heated argument completely ignored my presence. I didn’t care to get involved either. I was about to head back to my room when Logan called out to me. “Vanessa, come explain everything so there’s no misunderstanding.” He winked at me, clearly signaling me to cover up the fact that Madison was, indeed, the other woman. I had no idea how his mom and Sophia found out, but one thing was for sure. I wasn’t about to lie to him. “Explain what? Explain how you got her pregnant?” Evelyn and Sophia gasped in shock at the same time. “What?! What’s going on? What’s your relationship with her?” “Vanessa, stop making things up!” Logan was clearly flustered, his confidence shaken now that I had exposed his lie. “Logan, you better tell me the truth! Why the hell do you have a child with that bitch?” Sophia was like a raging beast, throwing her purse at Logan’s head over and over. Evelyn didn’t stop her. In fact, she slapped Logan across the face and yelled. “Why did you get involved with that whore? Do you have any idea that she’s Ryan’s mistress?”

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