Category: English

Eight years into our marriage, heavily pregnant, I had just secured a fifty-million-dollar contract for Carter Vance. But the moment I walked back into the office, I caught him and his new secretary locked in a passionate embrace, passionately making out. My body trembled with rage as I confronted them. Yet, all I got in return was a sneer from the young girl. “So you’re the famous charity-case scholarship girl Carter sponsored back in college? Look at you—so tacky and plain. You don’t look like Mrs. Vance at all! Carter has me now. If you have any self-respect left, get an abortion, sign the papers, and get lost!” I slowly turned my gaze to Carter, who was standing beside her. Though he didn’t say a word, his bowed head and avoided gaze spoke volumes. Taking advantage of their distraction, I quickly slipped the signed fifty-million-dollar contract back into my designer bag. A cold smile played on my lips as I looked at my husband. “Carter, after all these years as husband and wife, I only need one word from you. Do you actually dare to divorce me?”

I had married into the Vance family when Vance Tech was on the verge of bankruptcy. For eight long years—over two thousand grueling days and nights—I relied on my own research and dozens of patents to bring Vance Tech back from the dead. Even Carter’s snobbish parents used to treat me with absolute respect. I honestly thought Carter understood what was at stake. “Chloe, let’s just get a divorce.” Carter stared at his own expensive shoes, mumbling those six words. His voice wasn’t loud, but there was a sickeningly firm resolve behind his feigned helplessness. Suddenly, a sharp, deafening ringing buzzed in my ears—a symptom that had plagued me ever since I got pregnant. In my belly, the baby gave a sudden, violent kick. I lunged forward, grabbing Carter by his silk tie. “Are you serious? I am five months pregnant! You want a divorce now?” Carter let me yank his tie, refusing to meet my eyes or utter a single word of defense. The anger inside me burned hotter. This was always Carter’s way when things got tough. Avoidance. Silence. Just as I was about to scream at him, a high-pitched, mocking female voice cut in. “Oh, cut the drama, you rabid dog. Carter is only being nice because of your history. When a man asks for a divorce once, it’s already over. If you had any dignity, you’d pack your bags and roll out…” Hailey Bennett was someone a business contact had begged me dozens of times to slip into our company. I never expected to recruit my own nightmare. I made a mental note to make that contact pay dearly for this later. But Hailey took another step forward, getting right in my face. “Are you deaf? I’m talking to you, you trailer-trash she-devil—” Before she could finish her sentence, my hand flew out and delivered a ringing slap across her face. “That slap was to teach you how to speak to your boss!” “And this one…” I raised my hand again, aiming for her other cheek, “…is to teach you how to speak to a wife!” But before my palm could connect, a large, firm hand clamped down on my wrist. Carter looked at me with a complicated, guilty expression. “That’s enough, Chloe! If you want to hit someone, hit me! I drank too much that night and got Hailey pregnant. She’s young, and I have to take responsibility for her and the baby…” It felt like a lump of cold ash was wedged in my throat. My chest surged with absolute fury and betrayal, but I couldn’t squeeze out a single word. Carter had health issues; for Hailey to get pregnant so quickly seemed less like an accident and more like a carefully orchestrated trap. Suddenly, it hit me. A few months ago, Carter, who used to chain-smoke, had abruptly quit. When I asked him about it back then, he had wrapped his arms around me with tender affection and whispered in my ear: “Chloe, you’re pregnant now. For you, the baby, and our future, I have to quit.” I had actually thought he was finally growing up, ready to be a real partner. Turns out, he was just preparing his body to conceive a child with this cheap little girl. My stomach suddenly churned. I leaned against the wall, dry-heaving uncontrollably. Carter rushed forward, trying to support me. “Chloe, I’m sorry,” he whispered cautiously. “I know I messed up. I’ll give you time to process this. As long as we get the divorce finalized before Hailey gives birth, that’s all I ask. Please try to understand… Hailey’s baby can’t grow up without a father.” The scent of his familiar cologne drifted into my nose, making me feel even sicker. I violently pushed him away, forcing a cold, lethal smile as I stared him down. “What is there to process? We’re divorcing. Right now.” Then, I shifted my icy gaze to Hailey’s barely visible baby bump. “Her kid can’t be without a father, and neither can mine. Let’s get this done quickly so I can find a much better dad for my son.” A flicker of panic flashed deep in Carter’s eyes. “Chloe…” “Carter! She already agreed! Why are you stalling? Get the divorce papers out!” Hailey pouted, cutting him off. Before Carter could even react, Hailey had already grabbed the pre-printed divorce agreement and shoved it into my hands. I scanned the terms, and a cold, hysterical laugh escaped my lips. “Carter Vance, zero shares of the company for me?” “Chloe, Vance Tech belongs to my family. Besides, I funded your college tuition for eight years. In all fairness, you have no right to these shares.” I had been grateful once. That was why I married him when the Vance family was at their lowest. Over the years, dozens of tech giants had offered me hundreds of millions for my patents. But I had let the Vance family use them for free for eight years. Ninety percent of Vance Tech’s clients only signed with us because of my patents. And now, Carter wanted me to leave with absolutely nothing. “Chloe, if you’re really unhappy about it, I suppose I could transfer a tiny fraction of my personal shares to you…” “No need,” I said, grabbing a pen. “I’ll sign. We’re divorcing right now.” Once this marriage is over, forget your petty shares—the entire Vance family will soon find themselves holding a hollow shell.

The moment the ink dried on my signature, Hailey let out a mocking chuckle beside me. “I don’t get why you’re still acting so proud. A divorced, pregnant trailer-trash woman—let’s see how you survive without Carter!” “Unlike you, Carter has my family’s backing now. Within a year, he’ll easily become the richest man in the city!” I stopped in my tracks and cast a chilling side-eye at Hailey. Her family? I vaguely recalled her belonging to some old-money family in decline, but I couldn’t quite place the name. I tossed the signed agreement onto the desk and turned to leave. Just as I reached the door, Carter called out to me. “Chloe! Did you sign that fifty-million-dollar contract you went out to negotiate today?” I slowly turned around, a sweet, mocking smile on my face. “I did. But I just sent a message to the client telling them the contract is canceled.” “Carter, we’re divorced now. I have no interest in working like a dog for the Vance family anymore. I’m sure you understand.” The otherwise quiet and passive Carter suddenly erupted into a furious rage. “Chloe! Do you have to be this ruthless?!” Gritting his teeth in anger, he snatched his phone and dialed the client’s number. The moment the call connected, Carter instantly forced a greasy, sycophantic smile onto his face. “M-Mr. Sterling! Hello, this is Carter Vance from Vance Tech…” “Carter Vance? Who the hell is that? At Vance Tech, I only deal with Chloe Miller.” The next second, the line went dead. Carter desperately dialed back, but every call went straight to voicemail. In a fit of rage, Carter slammed his phone onto the marble floor, glaring at me like he wanted to rip me apart. “Chloe! Do you have to ruin us?! Do you know how important that fifty-million-dollar contract was?! That was almost our entire profit margin for the year!” I shrugged, utterly indifferent. “I know. But what does that have to do with me?” Hailey quickly rushed to his side, rubbing his back and whispering sweet nothings. “Carter, babe, don’t worry. It’s just a fifty-million-dollar contract. I’ll talk to my grandfather when I get home. Forget fifty million—he can get you a five-hundred-million-dollar deal with a snap of his fingers!” I smiled and walked out of the building. Behind me, Carter’s furious, resentful roars echoed down the hallway. “Chloe! Getting rid of you was the best decision of my life! I never realized what a vicious, disgusting bitch you really are!” Ignoring his pathetic screams, I dialed the contact who had forced Hailey into my company. “Julian, what is the background of that little girl you had me hire?” “Oh, her?” Julian Brooks laughed over the line. “She’s the spoiled heiress of Apex Holdings—well, what’s left of it. Old man Bennett practically begged me for five years just to get a meeting with you. He probably figured sending his granddaughter to butter you up was his best shot. They want your patents. They figured if you could save the Vance family, you could save the Bennetts too…” The foggy pieces of my memory suddenly clicked together. During the last few industry summits, a frail, elderly man had bowed politely to me, with a decent-looking girl hovering behind him. A quiet sneer escaped my lips. So, Carter and Hailey were playing a game of mutual deception, both trying to leech off each other’s non-existent fortunes. How entertaining.

I was in Julian’s office, telling him about Hailey’s grand performance, when his assistant knocked and entered with a pale face. The assistant hesitantly leaned in to whisper to Julian, but Julian pushed him back. “Chloe is family. If you have something to say, say it out loud.” The assistant trembled. “Mr. Brooks… our building is being swarmed by reporters.” “Why are they swarming us?” “They’re… they’re demanding a statement from Ms. Miller…” Julian and I pulled out our phones at the same time. The moment I saw the trending headlines on Instagram and Twitter, my heart sank into a cold, dark abyss. Out of the top ten trending topics in the city, I occupied three, highlighted in blood-red. 【Viper in the House! Vance Family’s Charity Case Cancels $50M Contract to Vent Personal Malice!】 【Vance Tech’s Wife Betrays Husband: Secretly Pregnant with a Boytoy’s Child!】 【Chloe Miller’s Calculated Scam: The Truth Behind Her Parasitic Marriage to the Vance Family!】 Then came a barrage of emails and messages from my clients. [Ms. Miller, we need an official explanation regarding these scandals immediately. Otherwise, we may have to reconsider our partnership for the next quarter.] [Chloe, let’s put our ongoing negotiations on hold for now.] There were even vicious messages from anonymous internet trolls. [You disgusting whore! I’ll spit on you if I ever see you on the street!] [Ungrateful snake! I hope your baby is born a freak!] I clenched my fist and slammed it on the desk. This was clearly the work of Carter and Hailey. The moment I notified the clients of my departure from Vance Tech, these smear campaigns had flooded the internet. They wanted to utterly ruin me. I grabbed my bag and headed for the door, but Julian caught my arm. “Chloe, you’re pregnant. Don’t go out there. Let me handle this.” I gently shook his hand off. “Julian, I dragged myself out of hell to get where I am today. A little rain storm isn’t going to break me.” But the moment I stepped out of the lobby, I realized why Julian’s assistant had been so terrified. Because besides the bloodthirsty paparazzi, there were several prominent figures from the city’s high society standing at the entrance. Among them were Carter’s parents. Eleanor Vance spotted me from a distance and immediately put on a fake, warm smile, rushing over to grab my hands. “Chloe, sweetie! I don’t know how things got so out of hand. It must be because of that fifty-million-dollar contract. Did we upset Mr. Sterling?” Richard Vance stepped forward too, forcing a reassuring smile. “Yes, Chloe. Canceling a signed deal so suddenly… it’s natural for the client to be upset. Just go apologize to Mr. Sterling, get the contract back, and I’m sure these reporters will leave you alone.” I slowly peeled Eleanor’s manicured hands off me and smiled. “Actually, Eleanor, Mr. Sterling isn’t upset at all. I just signed a new deal with him through a friend’s company. He is actually thrilled.” I watched the color drain from the elderly couple’s faces. A cold sneer formed in my heart. It seemed they had a hand in this media circus today too. I had bled myself dry for the Vance family for eight years, only to realize I had been feeding a pack of ungrateful wolves. Eleanor’s face instantly twisted in anger. “Chloe, what did you just say?! You signed Mr. Sterling with a friend’s company? You are the daughter-in-law of the Vance family! How dare you betray us like this?!” I met her furious gaze, reached into my bag, and slapped the newly signed divorce agreement into her hands. “I’m sorry, but I have absolutely nothing to do with the Vance family anymore.”

I pushed past Eleanor to leave, but the hundreds of reporters waiting outside swarmed me like vultures. In my eight years of running a business, I had dealt with the media countless times. I knew that the more I spoke now, the more they would twist my words. I turned toward the back exit, but a sharp, mocking voice cut through the noise. “Oh, look at the elegant Chloe Miller. What’s wrong? Did we hit a nerve? Running away because you can’t face the truth?” Hailey, clinging tightly to Carter’s arm, strutted toward me. I ignored her and kept walking, but before I could take two steps, someone grabbed my wrist in a vice grip. Hailey jumped in front of me, pointing a finger right at my nose. “Let me tell you, Chloe, don’t think Vance Tech is nothing without you! Fifty million is pocket change. Even if it’s five hundred million, or five billion, it’s just a phone call away for me!” “Mrs. Vance was kind enough to give you a way out, and instead of being grateful, you disrespected her in public! Get your ass over here and apologize to her right now!” Carter chimed in, his face cold and arrogant. “Chloe, you crossed the line today. If you don’t apologize to my mother properly, you aren’t leaving this place.” As the drama unfolded, the crowd grew larger. I could see the luxury cars of several major business partners pulling up down the street. It seemed Carter and Hailey had really planned this trap thoroughly. While I was looking away, a sharp pain erupted from my scalp. Hailey had grabbed me by my hair, violently dragging me toward Eleanor. In the chaos and shoving, I lost my footing and crashed hard against the concrete stairs. A careless reporter tripped over me, and his heavy camera slammed directly into my lower abdomen before he fell right on top of my body. An excruciating, stabbing pain shot through my belly. A second later, a warm, wet sensation began to pool beneath me, soaking through my clothes. Eleanor stood over me, looking down coldly. Hailey yanked my hair again, forcing my head up. “Do it! Apologize to Mrs. Vance!” Looking at the blood pooling beneath me, Eleanor showed a brief flicker of hesitation. After all, she knew my value to their business better than Carter did. But just as she bent down to help me up, Hailey cut her off. “Mrs. Vance, don’t waste your pity on this snake! Don’t worry about the business. Leave it all to me. I already spoke to my grandfather about that five-hundred-million-dollar project. The contract will be signed, and the money will hit your account in no time!” Hearing the mention of five hundred million dollars, Eleanor’s eyes lit up with greed. When she looked back down at me, her face was filled with haughty disdain once more. “Chloe, you’re a grown woman, yet you’re not even half as sensible as Hailey. For old times’ sake, just apologize to me, hand back our clients, and we will let this go.” Hailey stepped closer, whispering maliciously in my ear as she looked at my blood-soaked pants. “You worthless trash. You couldn’t even keep your husband, and now you can’t even keep your baby.” “Once my grandfather transfers that five hundred million to the Vance family, your real living hell begins!” I gritted my teeth, forced myself up, and landed a vicious slap right across Hailey’s face. “Your grandfather is on his way. Let’s see whose living hell begins then…” Hailey gasped, her eyes wide with shock. Just as she was about to slap me back, a deep, booming voice echoed from the entrance. “Hailey Bennett!”

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On the tenth year of being Julian Brooks’s exclusive figure model, he finally proposed to me. On the night of our engagement, I asked him to paint me in my wedding dress, wanting him to capture me at my most beautiful. I was buzzing with excitement, completely missing the fleeting stiffness that washed over his face. “I’m sorry, Sera,” Julian rasped, sitting before the blank canvas, his face pale under the studio lights. “I… I can’t paint you.” “What?” My smile froze. A sudden, icy draft seemed to seep straight into my bones. For the past ten years, he had always held me tight and whispered the same thing. He said I was the source of all his inspiration. His one and only muse. And now, he was telling me he couldn’t paint me. After Julian practically fled the studio, a gust of wind blew through the open window, lifting the heavy white sheet covering the most secluded corner of the room. That was when I saw them. Dozens of explicit, raw paintings Julian had done—all featuring the body of another woman.

My fingers curled into fists, my legs feeling like they were trapped in wet cement. The wind hadn’t just lifted a canvas cover; it had ripped away the final shred of decency from our ten-year relationship. I forced myself to move forward and yanked the white sheet completely off. In the dim light of the studio, I raised my hand, my vision blurring as I stared at the artwork in front of me. It was all the same girl. In one painting, she was half-naked, lounging on a plush window seat, eyes heavy with desire. In another, she stood under a golden sunset by the beach, her hair glowing like spun gold. And in another… She was lying on the very bed I had slept in for the past ten years, looking up with a seductive gaze. My ears buzzed. Memories of Julian and me flashed violently through my mind. “Jules, I love feathers. Can we have falling feathers at our wedding?” “Of course, babe.” He had never said no to me. Not once. “Jules, I want to watch the sunset on the beach. Will you take me?” “Sure.” That time, he had hesitated before agreeing. But to this day, I had never got to see that sunset with him. I had never rushed him, because I truly believed we had all the time in the world. But now, reality had just delivered a brutal, mocking slap to my face. The girl in the paintings seemed to laugh at my pathetic naivety. Everything I had longed to do with Julian, he had already done with another woman. My gaze hardened as I stared at the canvases, my heart turning to ice. I reached for a pair of fabric shears on the side table. With a clean, sharp slash, I ripped the wedding dress Julian had personally designed for me right down the middle. Just as the silk tore, the studio door pushed open. Julian hurried in, his face tight with guilt. “Sera, I—” He stopped dead in his words, his eyes landing on the ruined wedding dress. And then, on the uncovered paintings. His pupils dilated. His lips parted, but he couldn’t squeeze out a single word of explanation. “Who is she?” I asked directly, my voice eerily calm. Only I knew how badly my heart was bleeding beneath that calm facade. Ten years ago, Julian was just a starving artist. We met at a gallery in San Francisco. The moment he saw me, he begged me to be his model. I still remembered that day. He was standing in the long corridor of the gallery, the sunset casting a warm, golden halo around his hair. Just like that, he had painted his way into my heart. “Okay,” I had whispered, enchanted. That single word started our ten-year entanglement. “She’s an undergraduate from my department,” he muttered, his voice raspy as he stared at the floor. “Sera, don’t get the wrong idea. It was purely for art.” I forced a bitter laugh, looking up at him with pure sarcasm. “For art?” I closed my eyes, swallowing the bile in my throat. “For ten years, you told me I was your only source of inspiration. Your only muse.” Julian’s face tightened. He frowned, clearly annoyed by my persistence. “Inspiration isn’t something you can just control,” he said impatiently. “We’re getting married in a week. Isn’t that enough for you?” Seeing my wide, hollow eyes, his tone softened slightly. “Sera, we’ve been together for ten years. Yes, you were my muse for a decade. But… an artist can’t stay stagnant forever. I needed a fresh perspective. I needed a new muse.” My hands clenched the shears tighter. The cold metal dug into my palm, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in my chest. Looking at Julian, I felt like I was looking at a complete stranger. “It’s not just a new muse you want, is it?” I smiled bitterly. “Why don’t you make her your bride next week, too?” “Sera!” he snapped, his voice sharp with a warning tone, as if I had hit a nerve. “I am marrying you. But I won’t stop painting her. Stop being unreasonable.” My heart sank into a dark, bottomless abyss. Before I could speak, his phone buzzed. In the dead silence of the room, a woman’s voice came through the speaker, clear as day. “Jules, are you coming over tonight? I’m waiting for you.” My body began to shake uncontrollably in the sudden chill of the room. Julian hung up, grabbed his jacket, and rushed out the door without looking back. All the strength holding me up evaporated. I collapsed onto the floor, surrounded by emptiness. After what felt like hours, I picked up my phone and called my wedding coordinator. “I need a new wedding dress designed within a week.” “Sure, what size?” I gripped the phone, my eyes locking onto the new “muse” in the paintings. Fortunately, after ten years in the industry, I had an eye for body measurements. “Size 2. 32-24-35.”

Predictably, Julian didn’t come home that night. The next morning, I was woken up by rustling noises outside my bedroom. I opened the door and saw a young girl standing in the hallway. My breath hitched. With just one look, I recognized her from the paintings. She gasped when she saw me. “Oh… Sera? What are you doing home? I thought…” Realizing she had slipped up, she quickly covered her mouth. Her eyes—which looked eighty percent like mine—filled with mock panic. I took a step forward, a cold, mocking smile on my lips. “What am I doing in my own home? So, you usually come over when I’m not here?” Her eyes darted around, and she spoke in a soft, trembling voice. “No, that’s not it. I just came to grab some brushes for Julian. We have a session scheduled today. We’re shooting… private portraits.” She peeked at me, a flash of smug defiance hidden in her eyes. My fists clenched at my sides. Her tactics were cheap, but highly effective. A wave of hot, blinding fury burned away the last of my sanity. Slap! The sharp sound of the slap echoed through the hallway. “Are you looking for trouble?” I asked, my voice deadly quiet. “How dare you flaunt your cheap affair in my face?” She clutched her cheek, staring at me in absolute shock. “You…” “Sera!” Julian’s angry voice roared from the front door. “What do you think you’re doing?” He rushed over and pulled Chloe behind him. It looked like he was reprimanding her, but he was actually shielding her from me. A sharp, stabbing pain pierced my chest. Julian stared at the red mark on Chloe’s cheek, his brow furrowed in anger as he glared at me. “I’m sorry about this, Sera. She was just helping me grab some gear. Don’t take it out on her.” “Ju—” I stopped myself. Hearing Chloe call him “Jules” made me want to throw up. I called him by his full name instead. “Julian.” “I told you yesterday, you can swap your bride for her next week. But as long as she behaves like a homewrecker in front of me, I will put her in her place.” Behind him, Chloe’s eyes lit up with a triumphant gleam. Julian flinched when he heard me call him by his full name. But hearing my words, his face darkened completely, filled with impatience and a trace of irritation he didn’t even seem to realize he had. “Sera! Can you stop throwing a tantrum? She was just picking up my things. Do you really have to be this petty?” “Let me tell you something. In the future, there will only be more women I paint!” He rubbed his temples, his voice sounding incredibly exhausted. “Can you try to understand me for once? I look at you now and I feel absolutely nothing. No inspiration. Do you want me to ruin my career just to prove my loyalty to you?” “I’m marrying you. You’ll be my only wife. Isn’t that enough?” Outside, thunder rumbled, and a sudden downpour began to pelt against the glass. But my heart, strangely, fell completely quiet. I looked at him, not bothering to argue anymore. I simply said, word by word, “Do whatever you want.” Julian let out a sigh of relief, thinking I had surrendered. He stepped forward to give me a quick hug before rushing out the door with Chloe. The moment they left, I pulled out my phone and deleted every single trace of Julian Brooks from my life. All those beautiful memories were now nothing but poison. That afternoon, I received an invitation from my alma mater to speak as an distinguished alumna to the graduating seniors. As I walked down the campus path, I overheard a group of students gossiping excitedly. “Hey, did you hear? Julian Brooks is back on campus! He brought Chloe from the senior class to the Diamond Studio.” “No way! Isn’t that studio supposed to be…” “I’m serious! My roommate is the student council president. Julian got the keys from her.” Their voices faded as they walked away. I looked up at the dark, overcast sky, feeling my heart being ripped apart piece by piece. As a former art student, I knew exactly what that studio was used for. Artists often chased extreme, provocative aesthetics. Bondage gear—handcuffs, heavy chains, and cages—were kept there for avant-garde photography and dark installations.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and walked toward the Diamond Studio. The hallway grew quieter the closer I got, making the heavy clinking of chains inside the room echo loudly. Julian had forgotten to lock the door. It was slightly ajar. Through the crack, the scene inside struck my eyes like a physical blow. Chloe was posing in skimpy lingerie, her wrists bound in handcuffs, while heavy chains wrapped around her neck and ankles. Little bells hung from her collar, jingling with her every movement. Her eyes were full of lust. “Jules, is this okay? I want to look beautiful for you.” Julian stood before her with a paintbrush, stepping closer to touch her bare skin. “Of course,” his voice was incredibly low and gravelly. “You are stunning, Chloe.” My pupils shrunk, my gaze turning dead cold. For ten years, I never knew Julian had this side to him. Maybe his passion had just never been meant for me. The pain washed over me like a freezing December wind. I grabbed the doorknob and slammed the door open. “Ah!” Chloe screamed, scrambling to cover herself, the chains clinking frantically. I walked straight in, grabbed a bucket of mixed acrylic paint from the table, and dumped the entire thing over her head. The chemical stench filled the room. Chloe stared at her paint-splattered, ruined body in absolute horror. “Sera Jenkins! Are you insane?!” Julian, paralyzed with shock, finally snapped out of it and grabbed my arm. “What is wrong with you?!” His shove sent me stumbling back. I crashed hard against the iron cage behind me, a dull thud echoing through the room. I looked up, staring straight into his eyes. Meeting my icy glare, Julian’s grip loosened. A flash of panic and guilt crossed his face. “This is just for my art,” he said, stepping forward to touch my bruised shoulder. “Don’t misunderstand. You went to art school too, you should understand this.” I took a step back, escaping his touch, and whispered, “Julian, you make me sick.” He froze, stunned. For ten years, I had never spoken a harsh word to him. Chloe stood up, the bells on her collar jingling loudly. “Sera, don’t blame Jules. He’s doing this for the upcoming National Art Exhibition. You’ve been with him for so long, don’t you know how important this award is to him? If I don’t mind posing like this, why do you?” I clenched my jaw, looked her up and down with utter disgust, and turned on my heel. Chloe froze. The look I gave her—like evaluating a cheap piece of meat—shattered her pride. She was just a college girl after all. Her eyes welled with tears of humiliation. I walked out, leaving behind a fuming Chloe and a silent Julian, whose fists were clenched so hard his knuckles were white. That evening, I was packing my passport and documents when Julian opened the bedroom door. His face was grim. “Sera, you went too far today.” I didn’t even look up, keeping my back turned to him. Seeing my silence, Julian assumed I was feeling guilty. “Chloe cried for hours today. She hasn’t even graduated yet. Don’t you think you were too cruel? Art requires sacrifice. Why are you acting so crazy lately?” A mocking smile touched my lips. I stood up and faced him. “What I do is none of your business. If you love this kind of ‘art,’ go ahead. I won’t stop you. And let me make this clear one last time: I am not marrying you.”

Julian choked on his breath, his annoyance clear. But beneath that annoyance was a deep, unnamable panic. “Sera, stop talking nonsense. We’ve been together for ten years. I know you love me too much to leave. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. The wedding is in five days. We both need to cool down.” “Sure,” I nodded indifferently. “Let’s cool down.” Julian stared at me for a long moment before turning to leave. But his hasty retreat looked more like fleeing. Three days later, the wedding designer called. “Sera, the new dress is ready.” “I’ll pick it up tomorrow,” I said quietly. Then, I dialed Chloe’s number. “Don’t you want to be Julian’s bride? Tomorrow at 8:00 AM, go to the bridal boutique on 5th Avenue.” Without waiting for her reply, I hung up. I knew she would go. And I knew she wouldn’t tell Julian. If she didn’t have ambition, she wouldn’t have slept with a committed man in the first place. Holding my passport and one-way ticket, I took one last look at the penthouse we had decorated together. I smiled mockingly. The next morning, at the bridal boutique. I pushed the door open and saw Chloe already waiting eagerly. I walked over, crossing my arms, and looked down at her. Chloe flinched, then stood up quickly, her eyes darting nervously. “Why did you ask me to come here?” I signaled the assistant to bring out the new wedding dress. I looked at Chloe, my smile not reaching my eyes. “Tomorrow is my wedding with Julian. You know that, right?” She clutched her purse, her face turning pale. “Yes… so what?” I handed her the garment bag, cutting her off. “Wear this tomorrow. You will be his bride.” Her eyes went wide. “What… what do you mean?” Without another word, I turned and walked out. Tomorrow’s wedding was supposed to be a grand networking event for Julian’s career. Now that I thought about it, he had always treated our wedding as a business transaction. Leaving the boutique, the grey clouds finally parted, and a ray of warm sunshine hit my face, washing away the gloom. I took a cab straight to the airport, threw my old SIM card into a trash can, and bought a ticket to Switzerland. Meanwhile, Julian stared at his phone. We hadn’t spoken in four days. He tugged at his tie, feeling incredibly frustrated. His thumb hovered over my contact name, but he ultimately locked his phone. Whatever. Tomorrow was the wedding anyway. She would show up. With that thought, he finally calmed down. Just then, Chloe walked into his apartment holding a large garment bag. Her face flushed when she saw him. “What’s that?” he asked casually. Thinking of my words, Chloe hid the bag slightly behind her back. “Nothing. Just a surprise for tomorrow. You’ll love it, Jules.” Julian pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply, but the strange emptiness in his chest remained unfilled. The next day. The wedding venue. Julian stood on the altar in a sharp black tux, looking at the prestigious guests, gallery owners, and his parents. An uneasy feeling clawed at his chest because he still hadn’t heard from me. The officiant spoke into the microphone, his voice booming. “And now, let us welcome our beautiful bride!” The crowd clapped enthusiastically as the grand doors slowly opened. Julian’s heart hammered in his chest. The lights dimmed, leaving only a spotlight on the woman walking down the aisle. But the moment Julian saw her face, his entire body went rigid. He rushed down the altar, his eyes turning bloodshot as he roared: “Chloe? What the hell are you doing here?!”

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Before going to sleep, I ran my hand down Logan’s smooth back. Suddenly, something felt off. “Babe, did you pop that pimple on your back yourself?” His body stiffened for a fraction of a second. Then, he let out a casual laugh. “Oh, I probably just scratched it in the shower. It’s nothing.” I stared at the brown heart drawn in iodine around the wound, complete with a neat signature next to it: *Bianca*. “Okay,” I murmured, keeping my voice flat, and didn’t say another word. Soon, his breathing turned heavy. I quietly slipped out of bed and headed down to the garage. Logan was always a very meticulous man. That pimple had been on his back for days. He was so terrified of infection that he wouldn’t even let me touch it. I had specifically bought a special ointment to put on him, but now, the pimple was suddenly gone. The iodine was painted perfectly in the shape of a heart. Even if Logan had eyes on the back of his head, he couldn’t have drawn that himself. The more I thought about it, the wider awake I became. Down in the dark garage, the blue light of the dashcam in Logan’s car flickered silently. My hands were freezing, and I almost didn’t have the strength to open the car door. I went through the dashcam footage. The most recent recording was from months ago. With Logan’s paranoid and cautious personality, he wouldn’t even drive the car if the dashcam was broken for a single day. My gut told me this was no accident. Returning to the bedroom, I couldn’t help but reach for his phone on the nightstand. The passcode was still my birthday. The lock screen was still the scenic photo we took during our trip to Switzerland years ago. But I felt like everything had changed. I took a deep breath and opened his Snapchat. The recent chats were all with mutual friends and colleagues. Not a single suspicious person. I frowned. Was I really overthinking this? Just then, a notification popped up. A girl named *Bianca 3.18* had just liked his latest Snap Story. I tapped on her chat profile. There was not a single message between them. “3.18” must be a nickname Logan added. If I guessed correctly, it was her birthday. I stared at the name for a long time. Suddenly, I noticed a gray bell icon with a slash through it next to her name. It was the mute icon… Why would you mute someone you’ve supposedly never exchanged a single word with? Logan suddenly rolled over and half-opened his eyes. “Chloe, what’s wrong?” I didn’t say anything. I just gently placed his phone back on the nightstand. But he woke up instantly. “Are you checking my phone?” He let out a huge yawn and pulled me into his arms. “So my wife actually checks my phone. I thought you didn’t care about me at all.” “Check it tomorrow morning, okay? I’m completely innocent. You can dig through whatever you want.” I gently wriggled out of his embrace. “No, I just grabbed the wrong phone by mistake.” The next morning, Logan generously handed his phone to me. He had a huge smirk on his face. “You know the passcode. Take your time.” Then he turned around and went into the kitchen to warm up some milk and toast. His calmness carried a hidden smugness—the confidence of a man who believed everything was under his absolute control. I didn’t touch his phone. Instead, I went back to the bedroom and grabbed an iodine-tipped cotton swab. “Logan, let me put some more iodine on your back. We don’t want it getting infected.” He paused, his eyes darting away. “No need to bother. It’s probably already healed.” He walked out of the kitchen with breakfast, pushing a plate of sunny-side-up eggs in front of me, smoothly changing the subject. “Eat up. It’s going to get cold.” I took two bites and immediately lost my appetite. “Logan, leave the car keys with me today. I need to go to the hospital for a check-up.” “Sure, just drive safely.” The second Logan stepped out of the door, I drove the car straight to the auto repair shop. I had them install a brand-new dashcam of the exact same model. Then, I called my sister. “Maya, I need you to help me look into Logan…” From the very beginning, Maya had disliked Logan. She thought he was just a social climber who married up, and we had fought bitterly over him back then. Hearing my request now, she couldn’t help but sigh. “Chloe, what did he do?” “I think he’s cheating.” Maya let out a cold laugh. “He dares? Don’t worry, Chloe. I’ll find someone to dig up everything on him.” Part of me hoped she would find nothing. But my gut told me this was just the tip of the iceberg.

After getting the new dashcam installed, I drove to the office. Since my eye surgery six months ago, this was the first time I had stepped foot in the company. I noticed a new boutique café had opened downstairs. My husband, who never drank coffee and only drank tea, had somehow become a regular there. Logan was in a meeting, but there were two coffee cups sitting on his desk. The paper cups had “The Frosted Cup” printed on them. The name felt strangely familiar. Instead of waiting for Logan to finish his meeting, I went downstairs and walked into the café. The owner was wearing a white cotton dress. When she bowed her head, her waist-length hair fell forward, covering half of her face. I glanced at the barista certification hanging on the wall. The name read: *Bianca Yuan*. So she was Bianca? My heart skipped a beat. I ordered a black coffee, found a corner seat, and quietly opened Twitter. Sure enough, due to the location tagging, Twitter’s algorithm quickly pushed the café owner’s profile to my feed. There was a video with tens of thousands of likes. Bianca was showing off half a wall filled with limited-edition designer toy figures. “Super cute, right? My husband bought all of these for me! There’s still half a wall left. Keep working hard, babe!” As fate would have it, those figures were the exact products our company manufactured. Several of them were extremely rare, out-of-print editions that even I couldn’t get my hands on. I clicked on her profile and saw a video she had posted just this morning of her brewing a pot of herbal tea. “With this hot and humid weather, my husband has been getting breakouts on his back. I’m brewing some herbal tea to clear out the toxins for him.” My fingers turned white from gripping my phone too tightly. My chest felt incredibly tight. The thought of her delicate hands caressing my husband’s back made me feel physically sick. The moment Logan’s meeting ended, he called me. “Sarah said you came to the office. Why didn’t you wait for me?” I clenched my fist and said, “I am waiting. I’m at the café downstairs. Come join me when you’re done.” His voice sounded frantic. “Why are you down there? Come up to the office. I’ll take you out for lunch.” “We have to go downstairs anyway. Let’s just meet at the café.” He let out a nervous cough. “Uh, Sarah just dropped a sudden meeting on me. Why don’t you wait in my office?” “No rush. See you downstairs.” Logan dragged his feet for thirty minutes before finally showing up, looking incredibly reluctant. The moment Bianca saw him, her face lit up with pure joy. But Logan pretended not to see her. He kept his head down and walked straight toward me. “Let’s go. I’m starving.” I smiled, turned toward the counter, and called out, “Excuse me, do you have any iced herbal tea? My husband doesn’t drink coffee. Any herbal drink will do.” Bianca froze. Within seconds, her eyes welled up with tears. She stammered, “No… we don’t have that.” Logan ignored the sheer heartbreak in her eyes and pushed me toward the door. “It’s a coffee shop. Why are you asking for herbal tea? You’re just making things difficult for her.” During lunch, Logan was completely distracted. He kept checking his phone every few seconds, his brow furrowed deeply. “Babe, what are you so busy with?” I casually dropped a piece of pickled jalapeño into his bowl. He was so glued to his screen that he shoved it into his mouth without looking. Immediately, he started coughing violently, his face turning bright red. He had to chug several glasses of water before he could breathe again. “Logan, don’t be greedy,” I said smoothly, wiping my mouth. “Trying to work while you eat… you might end up biting off more than you can chew.” Logan snapped his head up to glare at me, but I ignored him and unlocked my phone to text our HR director. [Hi Chloe, I wanted to discuss the Thanksgiving gift baskets. We picked out a few high-end vendors, but Logan said not to bother and told us to just order gift cards from the café downstairs.] [But we are a major startup now. Don’t you think we should order from a recognizable brand? The employees would appreciate it much more.] I let out a cold laugh. This man was actually using my company’s money to pamper his mistress. What did all our years of building this company together mean to him? [Send me the list of premium vendors. Our employees deserve the absolute best!]

Neither of us touched much of our food. I tossed the car keys to Logan and took a cab home by myself. Watching him hurry off to comfort Bianca, I felt completely numb. Maya had connections everywhere. It didn’t take long for her to send me a massive file. The moment I answered her call, she was screaming with rage. “Logan is an absolute piece of garbage!” “You built Dreamscape Media from the ground up with your own sweat and tears! Just because you took a step back due to your illness, he actually thinks he runs the place? He needs to look in the mirror! How dare he cheat on you!” “Maya… did he really…” My voice trailed off. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. “He’s incredibly cautious. I haven’t found the smoking gun yet, but he will slip up eventually.” I let out a long sigh. Deep down, I realized I was still holding onto a sliver of hope. “There’s a high-end ‘Best of Panama’ coffee bean auction tonight. I saw Bianca’s name on the guest list. With her tiny shop’s revenue, there’s no way she can afford to be there. Logan must be going with her.” “I’ll send you the address and the details. If you need me to back you up, just say the word.” The auction hall was packed. The event was even being livestreamed to millions of viewers online. Standing in a quiet corner, I instantly spotted Bianca in the VIP section. Logan was sitting right next to her. They were whispering and giggling together. Clearly, their lunchtime drama was already forgotten. Bianca’s smile was sweet, and she even grabbed Logan’s hand in excitement at one point. I pulled out my phone and called my private banker. “Freeze my husband’s secondary card. Right now.” The highlight of the evening was the bidding for this year’s exclusive Panama Nido7 coffee beans. The starting bid was a staggering fifteen thousand dollars per kilogram, with the total package valued at over three hundred thousand dollars. The auctioneer was on stage passionately describing the flavor profile. I just shook my head. At that price, they weren’t drinking coffee; they were drinking liquidated cash. The bidding started, and Bianca immediately raised her paddle. “One hundred and sixty thousand!” “One hundred and seventy thousand,” a calm voice countered from the back. It turned out she wasn’t the only one wanting to flaunt their wealth. After a few rounds, Bianca pouted. She clung to Logan’s arm and whined, “Babe, he’s bullying me.” Logan looked at her with pure indulgence. “If you behave tonight, I’ll go up to two hundred thousand.” Blushing, she kissed him on the cheek and raised her paddle. “Two hundred thousand!” The other bidders immediately backed down. “Bianca is so lucky! Her husband spoils her to death!” “He didn’t even blink at spending three hundred grand!” Congratulations echoed through the room. My chest felt so tight I could barely breathe. The media rushed forward to interview Bianca. She tucked her long hair behind her ear and spoke with practiced elegance. “Nido7 is more than just coffee. If you’ve ever been to Panama and seen the mist-covered estates, the elegant white blossoms, and the dew-kissed fruit, you’d understand what a dream it is.” “I am incredibly grateful to the most important person in my life. He has always supported my dreams.” “I’d also like to take this opportunity to announce that next year, The Frosted Cup will expand to thirty locations nationwide. We will become leaders in this industry.” The crowd erupted into thunderous applause. She looked at Logan, her eyes brimming with love and adoration. Logan smiled back warmly. “As long as you’re happy, baby.” As the applause died down, I slowly stood up and began to clap. My slow, mocking applause instantly drew annoyed looks from the crowd. Logan frowned and turned around. The moment his eyes met mine, he visibly paled.

Everyone’s eyes fell on me. The heavy sarcasm in my applause was impossible to miss. Sensing a juicy scandal, a reporter quickly shouted: “Ma’am, are you unhappy with the results of the auction?” I smiled and looked directly at Logan. He instantly let go of Bianca’s hand and crossed his arms defensively. Bianca quickly looked down, grabbing her purse as if trying to flee. “I was just wondering,” I said loudly, “what happens if Bianca can’t actually pay for those beans?” Both of them snapped their heads up, glaring at me with pure venom. The host, trying to prevent a scene, quickly intervened. “Ma’am, if you have questions about the bidding process, please ask privately. Do not disrupt the event.” But my question had already sparked whispers in the crowd. “Why bid if you can’t pay? That’s so embarrassing.” “Exactly. Even though The Frosted Cup is a nobody shop, she clearly has a sugar daddy. If she can’t pay, her husband definitely will.” “She’s just a hater trying to make a scene. How pathetic.” I cleared my throat and said calmly, “Bianca, your café has been open for six months. Your monthly revenue is barely three thousand dollars, but your rent is twenty-five hundred. Considering other operating costs, you’ve been losing money every single month, haven’t you?” Having her secrets exposed in public made Bianca’s chest heave with anger. “What does that have to do with you?” I nodded. “Normally, how much money you lose is none of my business. But I am genuinely curious—with that kind of business model, how do you expect to pay for a three-hundred-thousand-dollar order of coffee beans?” Bianca’s face flushed red. She tugged at Logan’s sleeve, tears of humiliation pooling in her eyes. But Logan stood there like a statue, completely frozen. I pressed on relentlessly. “What’s the point of pulling my husband’s sleeve? His annual salary at my company is only one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Were you planning to make him spend two years of his salary just to buy you some coffee beans?” The crowd went wild. “And here I thought it was some high-end romance. Turns out it’s just a cheap sugar daddy funding his side chick!” “That home-wrecker is so shameless! Flaunting her affair on a live broadcast!” “I knew she didn’t look like real money. No wonder she kept bidding so aggressively.” Bianca stood there helplessly, looking like a fragile white flower trapped in a storm. With tear-filled eyes, she looked at Logan. “Just go… you can’t beat her. I can’t bear to watch everyone attack you because of me. I really can’t.” Logan’s eyelashes fluttered violently. His body tensed, and finally, losing all control over his emotions, he pulled her tightly into his arms. He gently wiped her tears. “You are not a home-wrecker. I said you aren’t, so you aren’t.” A sharp pain shot through my chest. For her, he was willing to throw away every last shred of his dignity. “Logan,” I called out softly. “Don’t you think you should figure out how you’re going to pay first?” An auction staff member ran out, looking panicked. “Miss Yuan, the payment card you provided earlier… it’s been declined.” Logan glared at me with an intensity that screamed pure hatred. The girl in his arms whimpered, “Forget it, Logan. We can’t beat her. I don’t want the deposit back.” But his pride was utterly shattered, driving him to madness. “Don’t worry, Bianca. I will secure the funds before the deadline. These beans are yours.”

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In the second year of my marriage to the mafia boss, I ran into Ethan Vance again. It was on the exact same tropical island. He had just spent millions to buy a luxury resort hotel as a gift for his wife. The moment his eyes fell on me, his entire face froze. “Summer… about what happened back then, I had no choice.” “You know that if I hadn’t saved Serena first, she would have died…” He was talking about that day. The day when we were held at gunpoint, and the kidnappers forced him to choose between me and my stepsister, Serena. Without a single second of hesitation, he chose Serena. And I was left behind, dragged away by those monsters to be tortured and ruined. I offered him a faint, bloodless smile. “It’s all in the past.” I turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist, his eyes instantly turning bloodshot. “Did those men… did they hurt you? Summer, I’m so sorry. I swear I don’t care about your past. I want to take care of you again…” I yanked my hand back and casually flicked my left hand, letting the massive blue sapphire ring on my ring finger catch the sunlight. “You’re overthinking it, Ethan. My husband and I are doing amazing.”

Ethan froze. The pity in his eyes only deepened. “Summer, you don’t have to act strong in front of me.” “The media covered everything back then. They took photos of you… being degraded like that. I know you suffered from severe depression afterward.” His eyes Rimmed with red, his lips trembling slightly. “It’s my fault. For the past two years, I was so focused on taking care of Serena that I couldn’t find you in time—” “But it’s not too late!” “If you don’t mind, I can set you up in a place. I’ll take care of you, just like I take care of Serena…” Serena. The very same stepsister who had mixed my mother’s ashes into baking flour to make a pizza. A mocking smile touched my lips. “No, thank you. I’m doing perfectly fine.” Realizing how awkward the silence had become after three years apart, Ethan desperately tried to find something else to say. Right then, the chef at the small Italian bistro called my number. I walked inside, picked up my plate of rustic spaghetti pomodoro, and sat at an outdoor table to eat. Even after all these years, this was still my favorite comfort food. Simply because the chef here made this pasta taste exactly like the one my mother used to make for me. Maybe the chef added a bit too much black pepper today. It burned my throat, making tears well up in my eyes. “Summer—” Ethan called out. I realized he hadn’t left. He was standing there like a statue, staring at me. He stepped closer, his gaze falling onto my cheap plate. The pity in his eyes was practically overflowing now. “You’re eating at a cheap diner like this?” He scanned my casual clothes, and I instantly realized what he was thinking. He thought I was living in poverty. “I’m so sorry. I should have never betrayed you back then.” His voice was thick with guilt. “But regret won’t change the past… I know you’ve had a miserable couple of years. Let me take responsibility for you. Come back to New York with me, okay?” Ethan reached out excitedly to grab my hand again. I stiffened and pulled back. “No. You know Serena and I are mortal enemies. We can never live under the same roof.” Ethan froze, his hand hanging awkwardly in the air. He knew better than anyone the deep, blood-stained hatred between Serena and me. If Victoria and Serena hadn’t forced their way into our lives, my mother wouldn’t have died in that staged car crash. If Serena hadn’t framed me over and over again, my father would have never kicked me out of the family. Even now, I still had ugly, jagged scars on my back. Those were from the broken glass shards Serena had intentionally hidden inside my bedsheets. “Summer, I…” Before he could finish, his phone buzzed. Serena’s whiny, sweet voice echoed from the speaker. “Babe, where are you? Did you finish buying that pearl boutique for me yet?” “My boat is landing in five minutes. Come pick me up.” Ethan hung up, looking at me with a conflicted expression. Before leaving, he shoved a sleek black business card into my hand. “Summer, I’m the one who failed you three years ago.” “If you change your mind, call me. I have a private penthouse in the suburbs. I can keep you there—” “Serena will never find out.” Before I could even speak, he hurried away. How hilarious. Was he trying to make me his secret mistress? Offering to make Julian Mercer’s woman a side-chick… Ethan must have a death wish. I shook my head, tossed the card into a nearby trash can, and went back to my pasta. Leo, the bistro owner, walked out, wiping his hands on his apron with a warm smile. “Mrs. Mercer, did you know that young man?” I smiled, trying to think of a casual answer. Leo leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You should stay away from him, ma’am. I saw it when he turned around—he has ‘The Pit’ brand on his neck.” “You know what that means? He started as a slave. Anyone who survives that place is ruthless to the bone.” I set my fork down and looked down, letting out a soft laugh. “I know.” “He was actually my personal slave for five years.” I had saved his life more times than I could count. He had sworn to love me forever, promising he would give his very life for me. Yet, when forced to choose, he chose my mother’s murderer without a second thought. The slave who left me to the kidnappers.

Leo’s curiosity was instantly piqued. Abandoning his kitchen, he pulled up a wooden stool and sat down to chat. “Mrs. Mercer, you were only eighteen five years ago, right? How did you have the guts to go into ‘The Pit’?” “That’s the most notorious, terrifying underground market in New York. How were you not scared to death at such a young age?” Of course I was terrified. But back then, I had no other choice. Five years ago, to find the truth behind my mother’s death, I snuck into the black market. I heard that fifty thousand dollars could buy a solid lead. Anything deeper would cost much more. I wanted to investigate if the car crash—the scene of which my father had rushed to clean up—was premeditated murder. I didn’t find the lead, but I found Ethan. Back then, he was just an unwanted orphan. A bruised, battered little slave being pushed around. The heavy iron chains around his ankles had rubbed his skin raw, leaving bloody rings. Wealthy buyers stood around, laughing hysterically as they watched him fight three wild, starving dogs to the death. He was covered in horrific bite marks, but his eyes still gleamed like a feral wolf. That look hooked me instantly. I spent a hundred thousand dollars that day to buy him. The trafficker took the cash and tossed the heavy chain into my hands. “He’s wild and vicious, girl. Keep him chained for a few months, or he’ll rip your throat out.” Once we got out of “The Pit,” Ethan glared at me, tense and guarded. Seeing the raw terror and defensiveness in his eyes made my heart ache. It reminded me of my own miserable situation. I reached down and unlocked his chains. “What’s your name?” “Eth… Ethan,” he rasped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Master.” “Don’t call me master. I’m Summer Sterling.” I tossed him a sandwich. “From now on, you follow me. I’ll keep you alive, and I’ll make sure you live like a human being.” He devoured the food, the wild guard in his eyes slowly melting into a bright, devoted light. Over the next three years, I bought him Rolexes. I sent him to Ivy League business schools. I even handed him half of the real estate properties my grandfather had left me to manage. Just like in those cliché romance novels. We fell in love. I watched him reveal a terrifying genius for business. Every investment he touched multiplied tenfold. My assets grew rapidly, and new branch companies opened one after another. By day, we were the ultimate power couple in the business world. By night, he turned into a hungry wolf, devouring me with fierce passion. Countless times, he would hold me so tight it hurt, whispering in my ear: “Summer, once I build my empire, I’m going to marry you in the grandest wedding New York has ever seen.” I believed him. Until the day the kidnappers threw me into that abandoned warehouse, pressing a cold barrel against my temple. They demanded ten million dollars from Ethan to release me. Ethan arrived, pale and panicked, carrying a duffel bag of cash. “Let her go!” he roared. The kidnapper laughed, pointing to the corner where a shivering Serena sat. She was wearing a white dress identical to mine, her face stained with tears. “Ethan, please, save me…” she sobbed. “Mr. Vance, you can only take one,” the kidnapper sneered, patting my cheek. “Choose your girlfriend, and we’ll send this pretty little stepsister of hers straight to ‘The Pit’. The beasts over there love innocent girls like her.” “But if you choose Serena, your girlfriend stays with us.” Ethan’s eyes darted frantically between me and Serena. Serena suddenly cried out, “Ethan, save me! Summer is so strong, she can find a way to escape on her own!” I stared at Ethan. He had once told me that my eyes looked like the stars, and he would never let them lose their light. I thought the choice was obvious. But Ethan only hesitated for a fraction of a second before speaking. “I choose Serena.” The kidnapper whistled, untying Serena’s ropes. She threw herself into Ethan’s arms, turning her head to flash me a smug, victorious smirk. He lifted her up to carry her out. I sat frozen on the cold concrete, my brain unable to process when or how they had started sleeping together behind my back. “Ethan, don’t go…” I dragged myself forward, grabbing the hem of his pants, begging. Ethan stopped. He looked back at me, his eyes filled with a heavy, painful sorrow. “Summer, I’m sorry. I have to do this.” “Serena is too innocent and fragile. She won’t survive a single night in ‘The Pit’.” “Wait for me. As soon as I get her to safety, I’ll come back for you!” But he never got the chance. Right after he left, the man whose very name made the New York underworld tremble walked in. Mr. Mercer. Julian walked over and lifted my chin with his leather-gloved hand. “Still haven’t figured it out yet?” “Summer, I told you he wasn’t a man you could rely on.” He waved his hand, and his bodyguard handed me a thick stack of photos. “If you don’t believe me, see for yourself. These are all the proofs of his betrayal.” The photos scattered before my eyes, stabbing straight into my heart. Julian’s deep, smooth voice continued to echo in the quiet warehouse. “While he was swearing his undying loyalty to you, he was already sleeping with your enemy, Serena.” “He says he loves you. He bought you a million-dollar diamond necklace on a whim, but he never spent two months hand-writing a hundred love letters for you.” “But Serena got those.” “Not just a hundred love letters, but birthday gifts for every single year of her life from age one to twenty-three. He prepared all of them for her.” “He even snuck into your stepsister’s bedroom in the middle of the night while you were fast asleep next door.” “And now, in the face of real danger, he abandoned you without a second thought.” “Summer, are you still blind?” I didn’t say a word. Giant tears rolled down my cheeks. Julian leaned down, gently kissing the tears away. “You should choose me.” As I finished the story, my plate was clean. Leo was staring at me, his jaw practically on the floor. “That Ethan Vance is supposed to be some legendary Wall Street prodigy, and he’s actually such a gutless bastard? What happened next?” I looked up at him with a half-smile. “If you keep asking, Mr. Mercer might just shut your bistro down and kick you off the island.” As I spoke, I looked past his shoulder. A tall, imposing man in a tailored charcoal suit was walking toward us. He held out his hand to me. “Gossiping about my wife’s past, are we?”

Leo immediately offered a nervous, placating smile. “Just friendly banter, Mr. Mercer! Please don’t close my shop. Your lovely wife loves my cooking too much.” Julian waved him off, and Leo quickly scurried back inside. “Is everything taken care of?” Julian pulled me onto his lap right there on the patio. Even after two years of marriage, he was still as clingy as a high schooler, refusing to let me go. He buried his face in my neck, inhaling my scent. “Summer, you can never leave me.” I laughed, swatting his shoulder. “We’re in public, behave yourself.” “I’m your wife. Where would I go?” “And seriously, is the island transfer complete?” Two months ago, Julian had bought this entire tropical island to give to me as a birthday present. We had been too busy to visit, but we finally carved out two weeks to vacation here and manage the property. Julian wrapped his arms around my waist, nodding gently. “Everything is finalized. Everyone on this island knows you are the sole owner.” “As for that pearl boutique Ethan Vance just bought… do you want me to kick him out? Just say the word, and I’ll have his lease terminated.” I looked out at the turquoise ocean in the distance. “No need. He doesn’t matter anymore.” This was my second year married to Julian. And the third year since Ethan had abandoned me. It had taken me a whole year to heal from the betrayal, to learn to love Julian, and finally marry him. Now, Ethan Vance was nothing but a ghost from a past life. Earlier, Ethan had mentioned that Serena had recently developed an obsession with rare pearls. So, he had personally come to this island to buy her a boutique. By now, Ethan had probably brought Serena to the island. She was draped in designer brands, looking nothing like the sweet, innocent girl from three years ago. Instead, she dripped with superficial arrogance. As she looked around the luxury shopping district, her eyes suddenly locked onto a spot across the street. “Babe, look at that woman. Doesn’t she look like my stepsister?” “Didn’t you say the kidnappers dumped her on some desolate island three years ago? All those media scandals about her back then must have been true! Do you think she’s been working as a cheap hooker here for the last three years?” “No wonder she refused to go with you earlier. She probably knows she’s been ruined by too many men…” On their way here, Ethan had already confessed to running into me. He thought his wife was kind and generous enough to welcome her sister back. But he never expected to see me sitting on another man’s lap in broad daylight, looking completely flushed. This was not the Summer Sterling he knew! Ethan’s eyes flared red, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned white beneath his sleeves. “I have to go save her.” Serena’s face twisted in anger, and she grabbed his arm tightly. “Are you crazy? What do you think you’re doing?” “This is a private island. We don’t know anyone here. Do you even know who that man is?” “What if he’s someone we can’t afford to mess with? You want to ruin us?” Ethan struggled to pull away, but Serena held onto him with desperate strength. Julian tightened his grip around my waist, his fingers tracing my hip. “Sweetheart, I just found out this resort has a private villa with an outdoor heated pool. Want to go try it?” Only after marrying him did I realize how incredibly passionate—and shamelessly romantic—Julian could be. Every time we went somewhere new, he always wanted to play, leaving me utterly exhausted. But I could never say no to this giant, handsome devil when he started teasing me. I sighed softly, running a hand through his dark hair. “Fine, fine. Let’s go.” Soon, we got into our armored SUV, and the driver sped off toward the villa. The villa was indeed breathtaking. The massive marble tub was already filled with warm water and fresh red rose petals. “Summer…” Julian’s voice grew husky. He pinned me against the wall, his lips dropping onto mine in a deep, intoxicating kiss. Just as his hands slid down to unbutton my dress, a loud, frantic knocking banged against the wooden door. “Mr. Mercer! Please, let Summer go!”

My heart skipped a beat. It was Ethan’s voice. Didn’t he go to pick up Serena? Why the hell was he here? With our romantic mood completely ruined, Julian’s face darkened instantly. “Who is that?” “I’ll handle it.” I pressed a hand against Julian’s chest to soothe him, then walked over to pull the door open. The moment Ethan saw me, he reached out frantically to grab me. “Summer, come with me!” I didn’t budge. I coldly slapped his hand away. “Mr. Vance, didn’t you go to meet your wife? Why are you so obsessed with stalking me?” “I can’t just stand by and watch you get abused by these criminals!” Ethan’s eyes were bloodshot, staring at me with desperate intensity. He looked consumed by guilt and regret. “Three years ago, I made a mistake.” “I thought that if I got Serena to safety first, I’d have enough time to come back for you. I didn’t know those monsters would… would share those horrific photos online!” “I tried to find you afterward. But no matter how much money or power I used, I couldn’t trace you.” “I finally found a medical record of your depression treatment at a private clinic, but by the time I got there, you had already been transferred…” By the end of his speech, his voice had degraded into a pathetic whimper. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through these past three years.” “I was wrong, Summer. Come with me. Please, give me a chance to redeem myself…” I let out a lazy, amused laugh. “Come with you? Mr. Vance, if memory serves me right, you are a married man.” Two years ago, Serena got pregnant, and Ethan married her. They threw a massive, multi-million-dollar wedding in New York. It was the talk of the town. That night, I had stood at the top of Julian’s penthouse, watching the custom fireworks spell out “I love Serena” across the night sky. Panic flashed through Ethan’s eyes, and he stammered. “But Summer, you said you loved me.” “You said we would be together forever, no matter what. Five years ago, when you bought me out of ‘The Pit,’ you told me you never saw me as a slave. You said I was your family. Did you forget?” I stared at his desperate face, feeling absolutely nothing. Those memories felt so distant they might as well have belonged to someone else. Julian cleared his throat behind me, pulling me back into his firm, warm chest. “Mr. Vance. What a pleasant surprise.” “You barge into my room and keep staring at my wife. Do you value your life on this island?” The cold reality seemed to wash over Ethan. “Mr. Mercer.” “I apologize for the intrusion. But Summer is… my friend. I’m taking her with me.” Julian raised an eyebrow, amused. “Just a friend? And why on earth would I let you take her?” Ethan closed his eyes, his knees buckling as he slammed heavily onto the floor, kneeling. “She means everything to me.” “If you let her go, I will sign over twenty-five percent of the Vance Group’s shares to you…” “I have no interest in your petty shares,” Julian cut him off. He played with a strand of my hair, looking down at Ethan like a predator watching a dying rabbit. “But if you want me to let her go, we can make a deal.” “Let’s see what you’re willing to pay.” Ethan looked determined, his expression hardening. “Anything I own. If you want it, it’s yours.” “I only have one condition: set Summer free.” Julian’s eyes turned dangerous. I sighed inwardly. Julian was a deeply possessive man; hearing another man claim his wife was probably driving him insane. He pinched my waist lightly under his hand—a silent, jealous punishment. “My, my. It seems Mr. Vance is truly devoted to my Summer.” “But I don’t care for material things.” “How about this, Ethan? If you want to take her, I want you to—” “Shoot yourself in both knees.” Ethan snapped his head up, his face filled with utter disbelief. “Too scared?” Julian mocked. “I’ll do it!” Ethan spat. The next second, Ethan pulled a compact handgun from his waistband. He pressed the cold barrel directly against his right kneecap. “Mr. Mercer, a man of your status shouldn’t break his word. Two shots, and you let Summer go.” I stared, momentarily stunned. He looked up at me, his eyes completely bloodshot. “Summer, watch closely. This first shot is what I owe you.” BANG. Blood sprayed instantly across the pristine white rug. Ethan let out a strangled groan, cold sweat pouring down his pale face. “And the second one,” he wheezed through gritted teeth. He shifted the gun to his left knee. BANG. The sound of shattering bone was sickeningly clear in the quiet room. Sitting on the sofa, the amusement in Julian’s eyes had completely vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating stare. “I see your sincerity, Mr. Vance.” Ethan collapsed onto the floor, weak and trembling, but he forced himself to look up at Julian. “Please… let her go.” I couldn’t stand this pathetic circus any longer. I stepped forward, away from Julian. “Let me go?” “Ethan, are you completely delusional?” I leaned down and draped my arm over Julian’s shoulder in a deeply intimate gesture. “I am Mr. Mercer’s wife. Asking a husband to let his own wife go with you… don’t you think you’re being utterly ridiculous?” Ethan’s head snapped up. The last drop of color drained from his face. “What did you say? You’re… Julian Mercer’s wife?”

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“Mortgage payment alert: $1,500 has been debited. Account holder: Sarah Miller.” I stared at the pop-up notification on my husband’s phone. Sarah Miller. His ex-wife’s name. “$1,500?” I held the screen right up to his face. “Who is this going to?” Mark’s face drained of color. “Chloe, look, I can explain…” “Explain what?” I cut him off. “We’ve been married for five years. You told me your monthly salary was only $2,500, and you’ve been giving me a measly $400 a month for household expenses!” I let out a bitter, lifeless laugh. “Where did the rest of it go? No, wait—this text says $1,500. How much do you actually make?” He didn’t say a word. I looked at him, my heart turning to ice. It took five years of marriage for me to finally realize that my husband had been secretly paying his ex-wife’s mortgage. I stared at that text message for three whole minutes. “Mortgage payment alert: $1,500 has been debited. Account holder: Sarah Miller. Remaining principal: $180,000. Remaining term: 15 years.” Sarah Miller. Mark’s ex-wife. The woman he divorced six years ago. “Chloe, baby, please listen to me…” Mark reached out, trying to grab his phone back. I took a step back, keeping it out of his reach. “Listen to what?” “There’s… there’s a reason for this.” “What reason?” He shut his mouth. I looked closely at the man standing in front of me. We had been married for five years. We had a three-year-old son, Toby. I honestly thought we were a team. A real family. “Mark,” I said, my voice deadpan. “Tell me the truth. How much do you actually make every month?” “Two… two thousand five hundred.” “Liar.” I quickly unlocked his phone and opened his mobile banking app. There was an automatic monthly transfer set up on his payroll account. On the 15th of every month, $1,500 was automatically wired to Sarah Miller. The setup date: March 2019. March 2019. We got married in February 2019. Which meant that from the very second month of our marriage, he had been paying his ex-wife’s mortgage. “Five years,” I said. My voice sounded incredibly calm, almost detached. “It’s been five years.” Mark kept his head down. “How much total?” He didn’t answer. So, I did the math myself. $1,500 times 12 is $18,000. $18,000 times 5 is $90,000. Ninety thousand dollars. “Ninety thousand dollars,” I whispered the number out loud. “You paid ninety thousand dollars for her mortgage.” Mark finally looked up. “Chloe, I owed her.” I froze. “What did you just say?” “When we got divorced, it was my fault. I ruined things,” he said. “We bought that house together, but it was registered under her name. I walked away with nothing during the divorce, but I promised her I’d help pay off the mortgage.” “You promised to pay her mortgage?” “Yes.” “Then why did you marry me?!” He went silent. “Mark, why did you marry me?!” My voice finally cracked, rising in anger. “If you felt so guilty, if you wanted to pay her damn mortgage, why did you drag me into this? Why did you force me to pinch pennies and live like a beggar?!” “Chloe…” “Four hundred dollars!” I screamed, cutting him off. “You gave me four hundred dollars a month for groceries and bills! You made me budget every single cent! I had to buy the cheapest groceries, and I had to wait for clearance sales just to get clothes for our son!” I let out another dry laugh. “I actually believed you made almost nothing. I thought we were just struggling. I never complained once!” “I know…” “You know nothing!” I glared at him. “Do you have any idea what I went through these past five years? When my mom was in the hospital and I asked you for $1,000, you told me we had absolutely no money! I had to borrow it from my friends!” “That time… I was really tight on cash.” “Tight on cash?” I laughed so hard my throat hurt. “You were throwing fifteen hundred dollars at your ex-wife every month, and you told me you were tight on cash?!” Mark stopped talking. The living room went dead silent. I stood there, looking at the man I had lived with for five years. His face suddenly felt completely foreign. “What is your actual monthly salary?” I demanded. He bit his lip. “Answer me!” “…Five thousand five hundred.” $5,500. Not $2,500. $5,500. He was making $5,500 a month. He gave his ex $1,500, gave me $400, and kept the remaining $3,600. What did he do with that $3,600? I tapped back into his banking app and opened his secondary account. The balance: $8,500. I scrolled through his transaction history from the past year: steam game top-ups, expensive bourbon, high-end dinners, golf club fees… I locked the phone and tossed it onto the kitchen counter. “Mark.” “Yeah?” “I need to be alone.” I turned around and walked into the bedroom. As the door clicked shut, I heard his muffled voice from the hallway: “Chloe, please, we need to talk…” I didn’t reply. I lay down on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Five years of marriage. Every single cent I had saved by skipping meals and buying cheap groceries… He had taken it all and handed it to another woman to pay off her house. Tears finally spilled over and ran down my temples. But I didn’t make a sound. I was only thinking about one thing: What do I do next?

The next morning, Mark called in sick to work. He got up early and made breakfast. “Chloe, eat something,” he said, standing at the bedroom door holding a fresh cup of coffee and toast. “We need to talk.” I didn’t move. “Chloe…” “Mark,” I sat up, looking at him coldly. “Why did you and Sarah actually get divorced?” He blinked, caught off guard. “…We just weren’t compatible.” “Be specific.” He set the coffee and toast down on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. “We had just bought the house back then, and the pressure was insane. She got pregnant, and I didn’t take good care of her. After the baby was born, I was always busy with work and barely home. She had to raise the kid alone and went through a lot.” “So you cheated on her?” “No!” he immediately denied it. “I didn’t cheat. It was… we just fought too much. She was the one who filed for divorce.” “She filed?” “Yes.” He stared at the floor. “During the divorce, she didn’t ask for alimony. She just wanted the house. I felt so guilty for ruining the family that I agreed to pay the mortgage.” “Did your parents know about this?” He nodded slowly. I laughed. “So your entire family knew, and I was the only fool kept in the dark?” “Chloe, I was just afraid you’d overthink it…” “Overthink it?” I stared at him. “Mark, do you really think I’m just ‘overthinking’ this?” He didn’t say a word. I got out of bed and went to the bathroom to wash my face. Through the mirror, I saw him follow me, standing right outside the door. “Chloe, I know I messed up. But my feelings for you are real. I married you because I love you.” “You love me?” I spun around to face him. “You love me, so you lied to me for five years?” “I didn’t lie to you. I just… didn’t mention it.” “Didn’t mention it?” I scoffed. “You told me you made $2,500 when you made $5,500. You told me we were broke while you sent $1,500 to your ex every month. You call that ‘not mentioning it’?” “I…” “Mark, let me ask you a question.” “Go ahead.” “How old is your kid with your ex now?” His face shifted nervously. “…Eight.” “Eight years old,” I nodded. “You divorced six years ago, which means he was two back then. Now he’s eight.” “Yeah.” “In these past six years, how many times have you actually seen him?” He went quiet for a long time. “…Not many.” “How many is ‘not many’?” “…Maybe two or three times a year.” “Two or three times a year,” I repeated. “Mark, you pay her mortgage because you ‘owe’ her. But what about your own son? How much do you owe him? How many times have you actually been a father to him?” He remained silent. “Or maybe…” I glared at him. “It’s not about guilt at all. Is there another reason?” “What other reason?” “You know exactly what I mean.” I pushed past him and walked out of the bathroom. He chased after me. “Chloe, you’re making things up. We don’t even talk anymore.” “You don’t talk?” I stopped in my tracks. “Then what’s that locked, encrypted photo album on your phone?” His face turned instantly pale. “You… you saw it?” “No, I didn’t,” I said. “But I really want to see it now.” He stood there like a statue. I held out my hand. “Show me.” “Chloe…” “Mark, if you don’t show me right now, I’ll just assume the two of you are still sleeping together.” He hesitated for a few agonizing seconds. Then, slowly, he pulled out his phone and unlocked the private album. There were over a hundred photos inside. All of them were of a young boy, tracing his growth from a toddler to an eight-year-old. “This is… your son, Leo?” “Yes,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “She… she sends me updates regularly.” I scrolled down. Below the photos were screenshots of their text messages. *“Mark, Leo is walking now.”* *“Mark, Leo started preschool today.”* *“Mark, Leo is asking when you’re coming to see him.”* The most recent text was from two months ago: *“Mark, Leo has a really high fever. I can’t handle this alone at the hospital.”* Below that was Mark’s reply: *“I’m on a business trip right now, but I’ll come over as soon as I get back.”* I slowly put the phone down. “Mark.” “Yeah?” “You told me you guys don’t talk.” He hung his head. “You call this not talking?” “It’s… it’s only about the kid.” “Only about the kid?” I let out a mocking laugh. “Mark, do you remember last week when Toby had a fever? I called you crying, and you told me you were in an important meeting and hung up on me.” His face twisted with shame. “You’re so quick to care for your ex-wife’s kid, but what about our son?” “That’s not true…” “It is true!” I snapped, cutting him off. “It is absolutely true, Mark. You know it.” I grabbed my purse. “Where are you going?” “To work.” “Chloe…” “Mark, I need some space to think. We’ll talk tonight.” I slammed the door behind me. Once I reached the apartment gate, I pulled out my phone and called my best friend, Rachel. “Rachel, do you know anyone who can pull property records for me?” “What’s going on?” she asked, instantly sensing the tension. “I need to check the deed on Mark’s ex-wife’s house. I want to see whose name is actually on it.” The line went quiet for a few seconds. “Chloe… did you find something?” “Yeah.” “Son of a bitch,” Rachel cursed. “I’m on it. Give me an hour.” After hanging up, I stood by the curb. The cool spring wind blew across my face, but I couldn’t feel it. One terrifying thought kept looping in my mind: If that house is solely in the ex-wife’s name… Then for the last five years… Have I been working myself to the bone just to buy her a house?

By the afternoon, Rachel texted me. “I found it. The house is on the Westside. 1,300 square feet. Registered owner: Sarah Miller.” Sarah Miller. His ex-wife. “What about the mortgage details?” I typed back. “Monthly payment is $1,600. It’s been active for six years. The primary borrower is Sarah, but there’s a co-signer.” “Who?” “Mark Harrison.” I stared at the screen. Co-signer. Which meant he wasn’t just “helping her out.” He was legally obligated to pay it. “There’s more,” Rachel texted. “The house was bought in 2017 for $450,000. Down payment was $120,000. Guess where the down payment came from?” “Tell me.” “A wire transfer of $60,000 came directly from Mark’s account to Sarah’s, marked ‘Down Payment Contribution.’” I went numb. “$60,000?” “Yep. March 2017. Mark wired $60,000 to Sarah.” 2017. They weren’t divorced yet back then. And I didn’t even know Mark existed. “Chloe, are you okay?” “I’m fine.” “Do you want to come over to my place? Let’s grab a drink.” “No, it’s fine. I just need to sit with this for a bit.” I hung up and sat down on a bench outside my office building. My mind was a chaotic mess. A $120,000 down payment. A $1,600 monthly mortgage. Paid for six years. This meant Mark had funded the down payment and had been paying the mortgage on this house the entire time. But the deed only had his ex-wife’s name on it. And during the divorce, his ex “didn’t ask for anything but the house.” Unbelievable. “Didn’t ask for anything.” Except for a house that he bought and was still paying for. I started laughing out loud. A few passersby glanced at me like I was crazy. Honestly, I felt crazy. I was laughing at how incredibly stupid I had been. For five years, I thought I married a decent, hardworking, simple guy. Sure, he didn’t make much, but he was stable. He gave me $400 a month for expenses, and even though it was tight, we made it work. Never in my wildest dreams did I think… He was financially supporting another woman. No, not just any woman. His ex-wife. What was this? Emotional cheating? Financial infidelity? Or had he simply never left his first marriage? My phone buzzed. It was Mark. I picked up. “What?” “Chloe, where are you?” “At work.” “My mom wants to come over for dinner tonight. Can you…” “Mark,” I cut him off. “Yeah?” “Your mother knows you’re paying Sarah’s mortgage, doesn’t she?” There was a long silence on the other end. “…Yes.” “And what does she say about it?” “She… she thinks that since I broke up the family, it’s only fair that I pay.” “Fair?” I laughed bitterly. “Mark, you paid $60,000 for the down payment on that house. Did you know I found out about that?” He didn’t say anything. “You knew, didn’t you?” “…Yes.” “And you still claim you ‘owe’ her? You paid the down payment, you pay the monthly mortgage, the house is in her name, she gets the house in the divorce, and you keep paying—how on earth do you owe her?!” “Chloe, you don’t understand…” “What don’t I understand?!” “I… I was the one who initiated the divorce.” I froze. “You initiated it? You told me she divorced you!” He stayed quiet for a painful amount of time. “…I lied to you.” “What else did you lie about?” “I initiated the divorce because… because I had already met you.” My head started spinning. “Mark, say that again.” “I met you first, and then… then I filed for divorce.” “So… you cheated on her with me?” “No, it wasn’t cheating! We were just… we were just talking! Nothing physical happened!” “Mark.” “Yeah?” “You told me you divorced because of ‘compatibility.’ You told me she dumped you. You told me you never cheated.” I took a deep breath to steady my shaking voice. “How many more lies have you told me?” “Chloe, I…” “Tell your mother not to come tonight,” I said coldly. “I don’t want to see anyone.” I hung up. I sat on the bench, watching the traffic go by. Only one thought consumed me: *Mark, who the hell did I actually marry?*

When I got home that evening, Mark was already there. He had cooked a massive dinner. “Chloe, let’s eat first.” I didn’t move. “Mark, tell me the whole truth about you and Sarah.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Sit down.” I sat on the couch. He sat opposite me and lit a cigarette. “We got married in 2016. In 2017, we bought the house, and it was put in her name.” “Why only her name?” “She said… she said women need security. She said she’d only feel safe if her name was on the deed.” “And you just agreed?” “At the time, it didn’t seem like a big deal. We were married. We were a family.” I kept quiet, letting him continue. “In early 2018, Leo was born. But I was under so much pressure at work and working late constantly. She was exhausted taking care of the baby alone. We fought every single day.” “And then?” “Then… in late 2018, I met you.” He looked up at me, his eyes pleading. “Chloe, the first time I saw you, I just felt… you were so different from her. You were gentle, understanding, and sweet.” “So you decided to cheat.” “I didn’t cheat!” he protested desperately. “We only texted and grabbed coffee a few times. Nothing happened!” “But you divorced her for me?” He nodded slowly. “I filed for divorce. She… she refused at first. But I was set on leaving.” “How did you get her to sign if she refused?” “I told her… I told her she could keep the house, and I would continue paying the mortgage. Only then did she agree to sign the papers.” I closed my eyes, feeling sick to my stomach. “Mark.” “Yeah?” “Do you have any idea what kind of person you are?” He didn’t answer. “You are a liar and a coward.” I opened my eyes and looked at him. “You lied to Sarah. You emotionally cheated on her, but you told her it was just ‘compatibility issues’ to ease your guilt. You used the house and the mortgage to buy your way out of that marriage.” “And then you lied to me. You played the victim, pretending to be some innocent, brokenhearted guy who got dumped. You told me you made $2,500. You told me you had no contact with her.” “You lied to everyone.” “Chloe, I never wanted to hurt you…” “You didn’t want to hurt me?” I laughed. “Mark, you lied to me about your own salary! How do you have the nerve to say you didn’t want to hurt me?” “I was just afraid you’d leave…” “Leave?” I stood up, towering over him. “Mark, you’ve paid ninety thousand dollars for your ex’s mortgage over the last five years! Meanwhile, you gave me four hundred dollars a month to run a household! You made me starve myself, and when my own mother was hospitalized, you told me we had no money! What did you expect me to do?!” He kept his head down, unable to look at me. “Let me ask you this,” I said, my voice cold. “How many years are left on that mortgage?” “…Fifteen years.” “Fifteen years,” I nodded. “So, if I hadn’t caught you, you were planning to pay her mortgage for another fifteen years?” He didn’t reply. “Fifteen hundred times twelve, times fifteen,” I calculated. “That’s two hundred and seventy thousand dollars. Plus the ninety thousand you already paid. That’s three hundred and sixty thousand dollars in total.” “Chloe…” “Mark, you are literally buying a $360,000 house for your ex-wife.” “It’s for my son…” “For your son?” I sneered. “Her name is on the deed, not his! How can you say it’s for him?” He had no answer. “And even if it was for him,” I stepped closer, “what about our son, Toby? What have you bought for him?” His face went completely white. “Mark, listen to me very carefully.” I bent down, forcing him to look into my eyes. “I don’t care what you owe her. But what you owe me for the past five years—that ninety thousand dollars—I want my half back. Forty-five thousand dollars.” Panic filled his eyes. “Chloe, what do you mean?” “What do I mean?” I stood up straight, my decision clear. “I want a divorce.”

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Ten years after I stood in for my brother at his own wedding, he suddenly came back. The whole family stared at him in dead silence. He yawned, stretching lazily as he spoke. “Thirteen countries. Man, I am exhausted.” “Where’s Lily? She must be in elementary school by now. Why isn’t she here to greet her real dad?” Lily is my brother’s daughter. Ten years ago, he suddenly announced he had a child. Then, on the day of his wedding, he faked his own death, abandoning both his newborn daughter and his fiancée. The Vance family is New York old money royalty. My parents didn’t dare offend them. Desperate, they practically gift-wrapped me—a fresh college graduate—and shipped me off to the altar. For the past ten years, I’ve been a devoted husband and a loving father. Now, watching my brother act like he owned the place. My parents turned their hesitant eyes toward me. I just smiled faintly. “Lily and her mother are on vacation in the Bahamas.” Hearing this, Julian frowned, his face twisting in annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you guys I was coming home? Didn’t you tell Audrey I’d be back?” I calmly took a sip of my coffee. Ten years of navigating the business world had changed me. I was no longer the invisible, quiet kid living in my brother’s shadow. My silence pushed Julian over the edge. He slammed his hand on the table and stood up, his voice screeching. “Ethan! What is that supposed to mean? Don’t forget, I was the one betrothed to the Vance family! Now that I’m back, did you really think you could keep playing the wealthy son-in-law?” I glanced up at him and chuckled. “Julian, I have no idea what you’re talking about. My wife and I are doing great.” Over the years, I had accompanied Audrey Vance to countless charity galas and high-society events. We were known as the golden couple of New York’s elite. Audrey’s image as a devoted family woman had earned her massive respect—and lucrative deals—from her business partners. Maybe there was no burning romance between Audrey and me, but we shared something far stronger than love. Leverage. Mutual benefit. And that was exactly why I was so confident. Julian looked at me in disbelief. He pointed a trembling finger at my face. “Ethan! Have you no shame? Audrey was supposed to be mine!” I set my coffee cup down and replied calmly, with absolute dignity. “No. Audrey and I are legally married.” My gaze was firm. I stood up, completely done with this circus. Our parents stood by, looking utterly helpless. Julian lunged forward, grabbing our mother’s arm. “Mom! He’s insane! Audrey and I were together all through college! If it weren’t for my connection to the Vances, how could our family business have grown this big?” My parents had always favored Julian. But this time, Mom stole a glance at my cold expression before mumbling in a weak voice. “But… you ran away, Julian. You even faked your own death. We didn’t hear a single word from you for ten years.” “There was no groom at the altar. If Ethan hadn’t stepped in, the Vance family would have been humiliated. They would have ruined us, and our company would have gone bankrupt!” Julian froze for a split second, stammering to defend himself. “I… I just wasn’t ready for marriage back then. But I’m back now, aren’t I?” “Besides, you know how arrogant the Vances are. They always looked down on our family. If I had married into their family back then, I would have been treated like a dog. I would have been humiliated every day!” My eyes grew cold as I asked, “Then why are you back now?” Julian answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Because the Vances have accepted you now! That means they’ll accept me too. It’s perfect!” “I’ll take over as Audrey’s husband. I’m sure they won’t treat me too badly now. Lily can finally be with her real dad. It’s a win-win for everyone.” With that, he took a few steps forward and grabbed my hands, looking at me with forced sincerity. “Ethan, you’re free! You can finally go and find your own happiness.” I stared blankly into his eyes. Those clear eyes carried the absolute, cruel naivety of a child who had been spoiled his entire life. A naivety that was sickening. He genuinely believed that I, the neglected younger brother, was born to sacrifice myself for him. With a cold laugh, I yanked my hands away. “I’m perfectly happy with my life, Julian. You’re the one who needs a reality check.” I turned and walked out of that heartless house.

I didn’t care what Julian was feeling behind my back. It couldn’t be anything good. But I knew his stubborn, petulant nature all too well. He wouldn’t give up easily. Exhausted, I drove back to the Vance estate. Lately, I had been buried in corporate projects, working late into the night almost every day. As I walked through the door, I massaged my aching temples. An hour ago, when my parents texted me on Snapchat that my brother was back, my entire body had frozen. I always knew this day might come, but when it actually did, it still caught me off guard. I hung my briefcase on the rack and spotted a pair of high heels on the floor. I blinked, quickly forcing my usual polite, perfect smile onto my face. “You’re back?” a warm voice called out. I turned around. Audrey was wearing a black lace nightgown. Even in simple sleepwear, her stunning curves, porcelain skin, and flawless features were captivating. A gentle smile played on her lips. She frowned slightly, concern washing over her face. “Why do you look so exhausted? Haven’t you been sleeping?” I smiled. “Just too many things at the office. Did you have fun on your trip? How is Lily?” Audrey walked over and slid into my arms. She pressed her face against my chest, her slender fingers gently tracing my back as she whispered, “Lily loved it. She was so tired she fell asleep immediately. The only pity was that you weren’t there. Next time, we’ll go as a family of three.” “I missed you,” she murmured, her voice laced with intimacy. I kissed her soft hair, but my heart felt as cold as ice. When her soft lips pressed against mine, my body stiffened. My mind was completely flooded with the venomous words Julian had said to me earlier. For the first time, I didn’t kiss her back. Instead, I gently pushed her back, creating a small distance between us. “I…” I stopped mid-sentence because I felt Audrey’s body freeze. My sharp instincts told me she was unhappy. After a long, tense silence, Audrey smiled, finding an excuse for me. “You’re just too tired. Go take a shower and get some sleep.” She saved us from the awkwardness. With that, she gave me a quick peck on the cheek and let me go. I nodded and headed upstairs. Behind me, standing in the shadows, Audrey’s expression darkened. The warmth drained from her face as her sharp gaze locked onto my retreating back. The next morning, I drove out of the estate to head to work. Right outside the residential gates, a familiar figure blocked my path. My hands gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. Julian saw my car. He ran straight into the middle of the road, forcing me to slam on the brakes. The cars behind me honked furiously. It was morning rush hour. The neighborhood security guards rushed over, trying to pull Julian away. But Julian fought them off, screaming at the top of his lungs. “Ethan! Stop hiding in your car! You stole my woman! Have you no shame?” His screeching voice drew the attention of everyone nearby. I pulled my car over to make sure I wasn’t blocking the gate, then got out. I glared at him. Julian offered a smug smile, running a hand through his messy hair. He sneered, “What? Embarrassed? Or are you afraid Audrey will dump you once she knows I’m back?” My voice was like ice. “Julian, you are harassing me. This is my final warning. Stay away from me.” Julian didn’t take my warning seriously at all. Instead, his smile turned triumphant. “Stop acting. You’re terrified. You’ve lived in my shadow your whole life, Ethan. It’s only natural that you’d be jealous of me and try to steal my life.” He took a few steps closer, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Too bad a parasite always gets thrown out in the end. I’ll wait right here. When I see Audrey, I’ll explain everything. She’ll take me back.” “And Lily? She’s my daughter. We share the same blood. You’ll never be her real father!” Without a word, I got back into my car and drove off. This time, Julian didn’t block me. In the rearview mirror, I could see him smiling as my car sped away. A chill ran down my spine. Julian had been spoiled since childhood. He had no boundaries. Whenever things didn’t go his way, he threw tantrums like a giant toddler. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. Over the past ten years, I had poured my heart and soul into this marriage and my career. If we divorced, both Audrey and I would suffer massive financial and reputational losses. Audrey had a family empire to fall back on. But I only had myself.

Sitting in my office, my mind drifted to the past. Back in elementary school, Julian spent every break playing basketball, never touching his homework. Afraid of the teachers’ wrath, he would take my completed assignments and put his name on them. My parents always justified it. They said I was a straight-A student, so the teachers wouldn’t mind if I “forgot” my homework. But Julian was different. If he didn’t hand it in, the teachers would scold him in front of the whole class. A boy’s pride was everything, they said. So, to save Julian’s pride, my hard work was routinely stolen. Eventually, I learned to write two copies of every assignment just to keep the peace. In high school, Julian was the popular kid. He chased the prettiest girls, got into fights, and charmed his teachers. Even though his grades were terrible, his outgoing personality earned him tons of friends. His entire life, someone had always been there to clean up his messes. Meanwhile, I had to walk on eggshells, calculating every single step. In college, he met Audrey Vance at a music festival. They formed an indie rock band and played in local bars. For two months, while I was working three part-time jobs just to afford my tuition, they were living out their wild youth on stage. I thought that once I graduated, I would save enough money to escape my toxic family forever. Until one night, Julian stumbled home late, reeking of alcohol. My parents stayed up to make him soup and undressed him. The whole house revolved around him. But then, a drunken Julian dropped a bomb that shocked everyone. He was going to be a father. For weeks, a suffocating silence hung over the house. My parents were in a frenzy over the sudden scandal. I was busy working my summer jobs to save for my final year of tuition. The only relaxed person in the house was Julian. He had absolutely no concept of what being a father meant. To cover up the scandal, my parents kept him locked in the house. Meanwhile, our family negotiated a marriage alliance with the Vances. They agreed to hold the wedding after a paternity test proved the child was Julian’s. Everything was set. The Vances had reluctantly accepted the arrangement. After all, if the scandal leaked, the Vance family name would be dragged through the mud, and their stock prices would plunge. The night before the wedding, I took a four-hour train ride home to attend. But the next morning, Julian vanished. The bridal suite was left with nothing but baby Lily in her crib and a room full of furious Vances. Audrey’s face was dark, while my parents stood trembling in the corner. Then, their eyes slowly drifted to me. My mother grabbed me as if I were a lifeline. “We have another son! He’s never even been in a relationship! We’ll give him to you to make up for this!” My father immediately chimed in. “Yes! Ethan! Hurry! Your brother is gone. You have to take his place!” I stood frozen, my mind unable to process their words. Before I could speak, my parents grabbed my arms, trying to drag me into the dressing room to force me into a tuxedo. I struggled against them, my heart sinking into a bottomless abyss. Anger and disbelief clashed violently inside me. I had lived the first twenty years of my life in Julian’s shadow. Now, they wanted me to sacrifice the rest of my life for him too? The sheer injustice of it made my throat tight. For the first time in my life, I snapped. I screamed and yanked my hands free. “Why?! Why do I have to pay for his selfishness? This is his mess, not mine!” My father’s hand flew across my face, delivering a vicious slap. “Julian is your family!”

I stumbled back, my cheek burning with pain. My mother sobbed, tears streaming down her face. “What Julian did was terrible, I know! But you can’t just watch our family get ruined! The guests are already waiting in the chapel!” I face went pale. I forced the words out through grit teeth. “I am not getting married!” No matter how much they begged or tried to push me, I refused to budge. I grabbed a fruit knife from the table, pressed the blade against my neck, and hissed with bloodshot eyes, “If anyone forces me, I’ll end it right here!” At that, everyone froze. I didn’t care if they were worried about my life or just terrified of the legal mess a suicide would cause. It didn’t matter. I had already graduated. Once I got a job, my freedom would be absolute. The room fell into a tense standoff. Finally, Audrey suggested we speak in private. Everyone was ushered out of the room. In the dressing suite, only Audrey and I remained. Thirty minutes later. The doors opened. I walked out in a tailored tuxedo, placing my hand flatly in Audrey’s. With a smile that looked more painful than crying, I got married. My thoughts snapped back to the present. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of my high-rise office, looking down at the city. It had taken me ten years of blood, sweat, and tears to earn this office. Just as a sudden chill washed over me, a pair of arms wrapped around my waist from behind. I flinched slightly, but the sweet scent of cherry blossoms immediately put me at ease. “What are you thinking so hard about? You didn’t even hear me walk in,” a soft voice whispered in my ear. I smiled. “Just preparing for the Business Gala tomorrow.” Audrey took my hand, looking up at me with a smile. “I believe in you, Ethan. Your capability is unquestionable.” The corners of my lips curved upward. “Why did you come by the office? Isn’t the headquarters busy?” “It’s fine. I wanted to drive you home. Also, Lily mentioned she wants to see that new movie tomorrow.” I nodded absentmindedly. Audrey leaned up and pressed her lips to mine. I gently ruffled her hair. When we got home that night, there was no sign of Julian. He was surprisingly quiet. I figured my parents had locked him in his room to protect their own business interests. Just like they did years ago. I was physically and mentally drained. The moment my head hit the pillow, I fell into a deep sleep. In the middle of the night, a warm, soft body wrapped tightly around me from behind. The next evening, the grand hall of the annual Business Gala was packed with elite guests mingling with champagne glasses in hand. After doing my rounds of socializing, I took a quick break and headed to the VIP lounge. Lily was sitting obediently on the plush sofa, waiting for me. Her eyes lit up when she saw me. “Are we still going to the movies after this, Daddy?” I smiled warmly, gently tapping her nose. “Of course. Have we ever broken a promise to you?” Lily giggled happily. Seeing her smile eased some of the tension in my chest. Still, since the start of the gala, I had been plagued by an uneasy feeling. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the heavy doors of the ballroom. As I scanned the crowd, my eyes locked onto a familiar figure, and my entire body stiffened. Not far away, Julian was holding Audrey’s arm, speaking to her urgently. Audrey had her back to me, so I couldn’t see her expression. A second later, Julian spotted me. He pointed a finger at me, his face twisting into a hideous snarl. “I’m your real husband, Audrey! He’s a shameless thief who stole you and our daughter!” In an instant, every eye in the ballroom turned to me.

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The very first time the intern participated in a major project bid, she used AI to generate the entire proposal. In my past life, I warned her: “You can’t let AI fill in critical information, and you absolutely cannot let it submit the bid for you.” She promised she understood. But behind my back, she dragged her feet until ten minutes before the deadline, scrambling to upload the files in a panic. The result? Our proposal was disqualified. The company lost a thirty-million-dollar contract. She sobbed in front of everyone. “If Chloe hadn’t kept dragging me down and crushing my confidence, I would have finished it with AI way earlier! How is it my fault we missed the deadline?” My fiancé publicly took her side, forcing me to take the fall. During our argument on the rooftop, he pushed me off the ledge. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day she was waving her phone, bragging about her AI tool. This time, I didn’t stop her. I quietly watched her type prompts into her screen, and I even smiled and clapped. “So smart,” I said. “A project this important should definitely be handed over to you.”

“Chloe, look! AI is seriously going to replace all the old-timers now!” Daisy Vance thrust her phone right in front of my face. The screen was practically pressing against my nose. She had been at the company for less than a month. When she smiled, her eyes curved into sweet little crescents, making her look incredibly innocent. But the moment I saw her, a cold shiver ran down my spine. It wasn’t because the office air conditioning was too low. It was because I could still clearly hear the wind howling in my ears from when I fell in my past life. And I could still see Brandon Knight’s face—cold, distant, and completely unrecognizable—as he grabbed my wrist right before the push. He had said, “Chloe, why do you always have to make Daisy’s life miserable?” The next second, he pushed me. Twenty-seven stories high. Before I hit the ground, I didn’t even have time to scream. Now, Daisy was standing in front of me again, beaming with pride as she showed off her AI-generated masterpiece. The screen displayed her chat history with the AI. [Based on the RFP requirements for Evercore Group’s Smart Showroom project, generate a high-scoring proposal. Keep the pricing as low as possible to show our competitiveness.] The AI replied instantly: [Full proposal generated and submitted online. Estimated winning probability: 92%.] Several coworkers immediately gathered around. “Are you serious? It can actually submit the bid too?” “That’s insane! We used to pull all-nighters for these proposals, and now it takes one sentence?” “Daisy, if you pull this off, your full-time offer is guaranteed!” Daisy blushed, soaking in the compliments. She shot a sideways glance at me, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Chloe, I know you senior employees like to do things the old-fashioned, cautious way. But times have changed.” “From now on, we can just leave this grunt work to AI. You won’t have to stay up late anymore. Isn’t that great?” In my past life, this was exactly how it went. Back then, I warned her that Evercore Group had made us sign a strict NDA for this project. The bidding documents explicitly stated that core technical plans, pricing structures, and client data could not be uploaded to any third-party tools. Furthermore, the online submission required our secure corporate portal login and a secondary digital certificate. There was no way an external AI could complete the official submission. Daisy had smiled and said she understood. But right after, she ran straight to Brandon’s office to cry. She told him I was bullying the new hire because I was jealous of her efficiency. Brandon was the Vice President of the company. He was also my fiancé. He criticized me publicly during our next meeting. “Chloe, just because you can’t keep up with the times doesn’t mean you should hold the younger generation back.” Because of his interference, Daisy dragged her feet until the last minute before scrambling to compile the actual bid manually. She missed critical legal notarizations, left out the tax rate on the pricing sheet, and wrote the wrong authorized signatory’s name. Evercore Group disqualified us on the spot. She burst into tears and blamed everything on me. I tried to explain, but not a single person stood up for me. To protect Daisy, Brandon tried to force me to sign a written admission of guilt. I refused. He called me up to the rooftop, claiming that if I just took the fall, he could still save my job. I wouldn’t budge. During our struggle, he “accidentally” pushed me over the edge. I died with my name dragged through the mud. Thinking of this, I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms. Daisy was still waiting for my reaction. She expected me to frown and lecture her like I did before. She even had tears queued up in her eyes, ready to play the victim at a moment’s notice. But this time, I just looked at her and smiled gently. “Impressive.” The entire office went dead silent. Daisy froze. I raised my hands and clapped twice. “Using AI to independently write and submit a bid is indeed much better than staying up all night like the rest of us.” “Since you’re so confident, you will take the lead on the Evercore project from now on.”

The moment the words left my mouth, gasps echoed around the room. A flash of pure ecstasy crossed Daisy’s eyes, but she quickly masked it with fake humility. “Oh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea… Chloe, you’ve been on this project for three months. I was just trying to help optimize it.” “It’s perfectly fine,” I replied smoothly. “The company needs to give talented young people a chance.” Suddenly, the door to Brandon’s office swung open. He stood in the doorway, his black shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He looked handsome, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “Chloe, I’m glad you’ve finally come around.” I looked at him. That familiar face now filled me with nothing but absolute disgust. To think I once believed this man was my future. Brandon walked over and naturally stood right next to Daisy. “Daisy is highly efficient and sharp. You should mentor her more.” Daisy lowered her head, her cheeks flushing pink. “VP Knight, I’m just worried I don’t have enough experience.” Brandon smiled warmly. “With me here, what is there to fear?” He didn’t look at me once when he said that. The surrounding coworkers exchanged subtle, knowing glances. I heard someone whisper: “VP Knight is seriously playing favorites with Daisy.” “Well, she’s young, pretty, and knows how to use AI. Who wouldn’t love that?” I didn’t lose my temper. I calmly gathered the project files from my desk, locked them in my drawer, and sent a message to our department’s WhatsApp group. [Chloe Miller: Effective today, Daisy Vance will have full ownership of the Evercore Smart Showroom project. I will only participate as an observer. All subsequent decisions, document submissions, and client communications will be handled by Daisy.] A few seconds later, Brandon followed up: [Brandon Knight: Supported. The company needs to embrace younger talent.] Daisy replied immediately: [Daisy Vance: Thank you for your trust, VP Knight! And thank you, Chloe, for giving me this opportunity. I won’t let anyone down!] Looking at the screen, a slow smile spread across my face. In my last life, I cleaned up all her messes, only to end up as a corpse on the pavement. This time, I couldn’t wait to see how she would land this contract with just her AI tool and zero backup from me. That afternoon, Daisy moved her things straight into my private conference room. That was the war room my team had been using for three months to map out the strategy. The walls were covered with Evercore’s user flowcharts, budget breakdowns, and construction timelines. Daisy clicked in on her high heels, looking at the walls with a disgusted pout. “So many physical paper files. How prehistoric.” She turned to me. “Chloe, can I tear these down? They’re making the room look so cluttered. The logical diagrams my AI generated are way cleaner than this.” I glanced at her and said calmly, “Do whatever you want.” She didn’t expect me to be so agreeable, and her hand paused for a fraction of a second. Brandon walked up behind her. “Since the project belongs to Daisy now, she has the right to organize the room as she sees fit.” He then looked at me, his tone warning. “Chloe, don’t give her attitude.” I smiled. “I’m not giving anyone attitude.” Daisy’s eyes immediately crinkled with delight. “VP Knight, Chloe is just used to the old ways. It takes time to adjust.” Though her words sounded considerate, her actions were ruthless. She began tearing down the charts I had spent weeks preparing, ripping them off the walls one by one. The sound of tearing paper echoed loudly in the quiet room.

One of my team members couldn’t watch anymore and quietly interjected, “Daisy, those are Chloe’s notes on the client’s specific preferences. We might need them later.” Daisy shook her head with a chuckle. “Client preferences? AI can easily analyze that from public data.” “Besides, Evercore is a massive corporation. Their board’s aesthetic is bound to be international, high-tech, and ultra-modern.” I almost laughed out loud. Arthur Sterling, the Chairman of Evercore Group, absolutely despised the so-called “futuristic high-tech” style. He had started his career in traditional manufacturing before successfully pivoting. He wanted this smart showroom to showcase the company’s evolution, not to look like a sci-fi convention. I had personally accompanied him to the site five times. He had told me himself: “I don’t care how advanced the technology is. If it lacks a human touch, it’s trash.” That was why my original concept was “The Legacy of the Forge meets the Energy of the Future.” The first exhibition zone was designed to preserve their old machinery, vintage photos, and the ID badges of their very first employees. From there, digital projections and interactive displays would seamlessly transition visitors into their new clean energy production lines. That was what Evercore actually wanted. But Daisy didn’t know any of this. Because she had never bothered to read the client dossier. She only knew how to ask her AI. Once she cleared out the conference room, she began treating her work like a live stream, constantly bragging about her process. “AI, design a jaw-dropping concept for a smart showroom. Make it as high-end and futuristic as possible.” A bunch of buzzwords quickly populated her screen: “Metaverse.” “Cyberpunk City.” “Interstellar Travel.” “Future Engine.” Daisy’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Amazing! Now “this” is what I call creativity!” I sat quietly in the corner, checking my emails. An email from Marcus Drake, the procurement manager at Evercore, popped up in my inbox. [Hi Chloe, I heard your company suddenly changed the project lead? Chairman Sterling is a bit concerned. Will you still be attending tomorrow’s clarification meeting?] I replied: [I will be there, but I won’t be the main presenter.] Marcus replied almost instantly: [The Chairman only approved the direction you pitched earlier. Are you sure about this?] I glanced over at Daisy, who was currently prompting her AI to “generate a galaxy-class headline for the presentation.” I typed back: [I will bring a backup proposal just in case. It won’t affect your firm’s decision-making process.] After hitting send, I encrypted my true final proposal on my laptop and slipped the printed backup copy into my bag. In my past life, I cared too much about Brandon and the company’s reputation, backing down again and again. In this life, I wouldn’t let anyone use my hard work to score points. And I certainly wouldn’t let Brandon step over my dead body to protect his precious little intern. The next morning, we arrived at Evercore Group for the clarification meeting. Daisy had dressed up in a sharp white designer suit-dress, her makeup flawless, looking like she was ready to accept an award. Before getting into the car, she stood at the entrance of our office and gave me a sweet smile. “Chloe, since I’m presenting today, could you help me click through the slides?” The colleague next to us scowled in annoyance. But Brandon nodded approvingly. “Good. Let’s keep the roles clear.” I took the clicker from her hand. “Sure.” A smug look flashed across Daisy’s face. When we arrived at Evercore, Marcus was waiting in the lobby to escort us. Seeing Daisy leading the group, he paused. “And who is this?” Daisy immediately extended her hand. “Hi Marcus, I’m the new project lead, Daisy Vance.” “You can contact me directly for anything regarding the project moving forward. Chloe will be assisting me.” Marcus’s gaze shifted to me. I gave him a slight nod without offering any explanation. With a complicated look on his face, he led us into the executive boardroom. The room was packed. Arthur Sterling sat at the head of the table. His hair was silver, but his eyes were incredibly sharp. In my past life, after our bid was thrown out, he had called me and asked, “Chloe, is this trash really the best you can do?” Back then, I had no way to defend myself. This time, I wouldn’t let him down. Daisy opened her presentation. The moment the first slide popped up, the room fell into a dead silence.

The title read: [Evercore Group: Interstellar Future-City Immersive Showroom] The subtitle: [Sailing Industrial Civilization into the Edge of the Galaxy] Arthur Sterling’s brow furrowed instantly. Marcus’s mouth twitched. Brandon, sitting beside them, was completely oblivious to the tension and shot Daisy an encouraging look. Daisy cleared her throat, confident and beaming. “Good morning, board members. Our design is inspired by deep space exploration. We want to build a galaxy-class starship showroom for Evercore.” “Walking into this showroom will feel like boarding a spaceship.” She grew more animated as she spoke. “The first zone is called ‘Stargate Activation.’ The second is ‘The Milky Way Factory.’ The third is ‘The Metaverse Lounge.’” “We also plan to implement an AI-generated Virtual Chairman, allowing guests to interact with a younger, digital version of Mr. Sterling.” The moment those words left her mouth, Arthur’s expression darkened completely. He slammed his coffee cup onto the saucer. “A younger version of me?” Failing to sense the danger, Daisy nodded eagerly. “Yes! It’s the digital clone concept that’s trending right now.” “The AI will analyze your public interviews and create a younger, more approachable, and highly tech-savvy digital twin of you to greet visitors.” Arthur let out a cold, biting laugh. “I am not dead yet. Why on earth would I need a fake, digital ghost of myself to greet my guests?” The boardroom turned ice-cold. The smile froze on Daisy’s face. In a panic, she looked at Brandon. Brandon quickly stepped in to smooth things over. “Mr. Sterling, Daisy was simply trying to highlight Evercore’s transition toward a younger demographic. She meant no disrespect.” Arthur ignored him entirely and stared straight at Daisy. “Have you actually done any research on our company?” “We are building this showroom to show the world how we grew from a single metal lathe into what we are today. We are not hosting a sci-fi convention.” Daisy’s face drained of color. She instinctively argued, “But the AI analyzed market trends! Younger clients prefer this high-tech aesthetic.” Marcus couldn’t hold back any longer. “Ms. Vance, this showroom is meant to host government officials, major institutional investors, and industrial partners. It is not an Instagram trap for influencers.” Daisy was spiraling now. She frantically clicked to the next slide. But things only got worse. On the third slide, which showcased “successful case studies,” the logo of Evercore’s fiercest competitor, Vanguard Group, was plastered right in the middle of the graphic. Marcus’s face turned bright red with anger. “What is the meaning of this?” Daisy stammered, “This… this must have been a sourcing error when the AI was compiling the template…” Arthur slammed his hand on the table. “You brought our competitor’s portfolio to pitch to me?!” Brandon’s face finally changed. He hissed under his breath to Daisy, “Skip it! Next slide!” Sweat dripping from her forehead, Daisy frantically clicked forward. The pricing page appeared. Once again, the room fell silent. Total Project Bid: $2.8 million. Marcus burst out laughing. “Ms. Vance, do you even know what our RFP budget is?” Daisy bit her lip. “The AI said… a lower price guarantees a higher chance of winning.” Marcus slid the official RFP document across the table, pointing to the budget page. “Our minimum allocated budget is thirty million dollars. Any bid that falls 80% below the reasonable cost estimate is automatically flagged and disqualified for malicious underbidding.” “What are you planning to build for us with 2.8 million? A cardboard box?”

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I was born with sultry bedroom eyes, snow-white skin, and a killer body. In our elite high society circle, this look was branded as “the face of a born homewrecker.” Meanwhile, my half-sister, Chloe Vance, was the epitome of a pure, innocent lily. She was hailed as the “Upper East Side’s Sweetheart” by the debutantes, the exact kind of “classy trophy wife” that wealthy matriarchs dreamed of. With me as her trashy foil, her reputation for grace and virtue spread like wildfire across the city. Everyone said that a cheap, flashy vixen like me was only fit to be a dirty secret—a mistress for some greasy, middle-aged tycoon. That was until Julian Sterling, the most powerful bachelor at the top of the empire, announced a public search for his fiancée. To show off her elegance, Chloe dragged me along to the gala as her personal background prop. Who could have guessed that Julian would declare on the spot that he would propose to me the next day with a billion-dollar dowry? Blinded by jealousy and rage, Chloe immediately packaged me up and sold me to a bald, creepy CEO with some very twisted bedroom fetishes. On the day of the proposal, I stood cold and detached, watching Chloe in her designer gown, eagerly waiting by the entrance. But Julian didn’t come to propose to her. Instead, he kicked the Vance family’s front gates open, his security team tearing down the entire wall of romantic red roses she had set up. “You dared to use a cheap fake to trick me? I will destroy the Vance family for this!”

Chloe sat on the edge of my bed, smiling like a literal angel. “Scarlett, just help me out this once,” she pleaded, blinking her watery, innocent eyes. “The Sterling family is hosting a gala to choose Julian’s fiancée. I need someone to go with me—to balance things out. You get it, right?” I leaned against my headboard, staying dead silent. I knew her little game all too well. Since we were kids, she had been the golden girl of the Upper East Side. Pure, elegant, and generous. And me? I had these feline, bedroom eyes, pale skin that practically oozed a dangerous charm, and a body so curvy that no outfit could fully hide it. I was her perfect contrast. With me standing next to her, she looked like a saint. The snobby elite wives privately called me a “born homewrecker,” whispering that I was only good for being a rich man’s plaything. When Chloe first heard those rumors, she cried, hugged me, and said she was so sorry. Then, she turned around and made sure those exact words spread to every single gossip blog in high society. “Scarlett, are you still mad at me?” She reached out to grab my hand. I pulled away, dodging her touch. “Why should I go?” “Because…” She bit her lip, her eyes pooling with tears as if she were about to break down. “Because I’m begging you. Mom and Dad said if we don’t land this opportunity, our family is completely ruined. Just do it for the family, please.” Here we go again. Looking at her tear-streaked, pitiful face, I remembered how she had cried and begged me ten years ago. She had asked for the necklace my late mother left me, saying she just wanted to wear it once and promised to return it. The very next day, I saw that exact necklace on her best friend’s neck. When I confronted her, she casually said she had lost it at a party. But my mother’s dying words were for me to protect that necklace with my life. “Fine. I’ll go,” I said flatly. Chloe instantly threw her arms around me. “I knew you were the best, Scarlett!” As she turned to leave, I heard her pick up her phone in the hallway. “Mom, she agreed… Don’t worry. A man like Julian Sterling would never look at a girl with a trashy face like hers…” I smiled to myself. Sure. Let’s see about my trashy face. The heir of the Sterling empire was notorious for having impossibly high standards. Rumor had it he had rejected every single debutante on the Upper East Side. Chloe thought this was her golden ticket. She thought bringing me along would make her pure vibe pop, guaranteeing her win. But there was one thing she didn’t know. Three days ago, I received a text from an unknown number: “Miss Scarlett Vance, in three days, I will propose to you in front of everyone.” The sender: “Julian Sterling.” I hadn’t replied, and I hadn’t told a soul. Chloe, you dragged me into this game. I hope you don’t regret it. The scale of the Sterling gala was absolutely insane. The most powerful families in the city had arrived, and luxury sports cars lined the blocks for miles. Chloe wore a trailing, modest white gown. Her hair was down in soft waves, her face barely painted, finished with a nude lip. She looked like a fresh, delicate white lily. She held my arm tightly, whispering, “Scarlett, don’t wander off. Just stick close to me.” I glanced down at myself. I was wearing a slinky black mini-dress, bold red lipstick, and my feline eyes were sharp. I looked like a wicked temptress ready to break some hearts. “Chloe, are you sure you wanted me to wear this?” “It’s perfect,” Chloe said with a sweet smile. “Standing together, we show Julian that the Vance family has every kind of flavor.” Translation: “Look at how pure and classy I am next to this cheap, trashy vixen.” In the bustling ballroom, the debutantes immediately swarmed Chloe. “Chloe, you look gorgeous tonight!” “Julian is definitely going to choose you. Everyone knows he prefers the elegant type.” “Ugh, look at her sister. She’s dressed like she’s heading to a cheap nightclub. Embarrassing for the family.” All eyes fell on me, dripping with mockery. A girl in a pink designer dress giggled behind her hand. “Chloe, why did you even bring her? Aren’t you afraid she’ll try to seduce Julian?” Chloe put on a deeply hurt expression. “She’s my sister. Please don’t talk about her like that.” Keep acting, Chloe. Keep going. I sipped my champagne, saying nothing. My eyes drifted toward the second-floor VIP balcony. A tall, striking figure was leaning against the railing. Julian Sterling. Bespoke black suit, pale skin, and features so sharp they looked sculpted by an artist. He exuded an icy, untouchable authority. He was looking down at the crowd, and his gaze cut straight through the sea of people, locking onto me. Two seconds later, the corner of his mouth twitched upward. That look… it was the look of a hunter spotting his favorite prey. Chloe noticed him too. She immediately straightened her spine, flashing her sweetest, most radiant smile, and gave him a delicate wave. Julian ignored her completely. He turned and walked away. A flash of embarrassment crossed Chloe’s face, but she quickly recovered. “Julian is just like that. So cold, so mysterious. I love it.” Her best friend chimed in instantly. “Of course! He’s the heir to the empire. He doesn’t just wave back at anyone. But you’re different, Chloe. He definitely noticed you.” Right then, the ballroom lights dimmed, and a spotlight hit the grand stage. The head butler of the Sterling family stepped up. “Thank you all for coming. Mr. Sterling has an announcement.”

The entire room fell dead silent. Julian stepped out from the wings, stepping directly into the spotlight. His face was as cold as carved ice. He scanned the crowd and spoke into the mic. “I invited you all here today to announce one thing.” Chloe was so tense she practically dug her nails into my arm. Julian’s voice was smooth, commanding, and unhurried. “The second daughter of the Vance family, Scarlett Vance.” The entire room froze. I could feel a thousand eyes cutting toward me like daggers. Chloe gasped, her grip on my arm slipping away. “What?” Julian looked directly in my direction, his voice echoing clearly through the speakers. “Tomorrow, I will personally visit the Vance estate with a billion-dollar proposal gift.” “Boom—” The entire ballroom erupted into absolute chaos. I could hear the sharp intakes of breath all around me. “Scarlett Vance? That homewrecker?” “No way. Is Julian blind?” The smile on Chloe’s face completely shattered. She whipped her head toward me, her eyes wide with pure, unadulterated shock. “You? How is that possible?” I didn’t say a word, mostly because I was shocked myself. That text… was real? Julian actually wanted to marry me? Julian didn’t look my way again. He turned and walked off the stage, leaving a room full of dumbfounded high-society elites. Chloe stood frozen. Her expression went from shock to boiling rage, and then to absolute humiliation. She had spent a month preparing her innocent look, pulled strings to get this invite, and made sure the whole city knew she was coming to be chosen. And now, Julian had publicly declared he was marrying her “vixen” sister? Her best friend crept closer, her voice trembling. “Chloe… what is going on?” Chloe forced a strained smile, her voice tight. “It’s fine. Julian must have made a mistake.” A mistake? A man like Julian Sterling didn’t make mistakes. On the ride home, Chloe didn’t say a single word to me. She sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, her fingers twisting her designer bag strap so hard her knuckles turned white. I sat in the back, and my phone lit up. A text from Julian: “Have you made up your mind? Will you accept my proposal?” I typed back: “I have. Yes, I will.” “See you tomorrow.” Three simple words, but I could read the underlying intensity. This guy had known exactly who I was from the very start. He had sent that text three days ago, back when everyone was still guessing who his fiancée would be. He had already chosen me. The car pulled up to the Vance estate. The moment I stepped out, Chloe spun around. Her sweet face distorted with malice for a split second before she forced a gentle smile. “Scarlett, I’m so happy for you.” Wow, her acting was top-tier. Happy? The veins on her hand clutching her bag were practically bursting. I didn’t bother calling her out. “Thanks, Chloe.” Chloe reached out and patted my head, smiling sweetly. “We’re sisters, Scarlett. No need to thank me. Oh, by the way, Julian is coming tomorrow. If you need anything, I’ll help you get ready.” Looking at her “sincere” eyes, I sneered inwardly. Chloe, the sweeter you act, the more it means you’re planning something dirty.

Sure enough, early the next morning, a crowd burst into my room. Chloe marched in with a team of makeup artists and stylists, looking as enthusiastic as if she were the one getting married. “Scarlett, today is your big day! I came to help you get ready.” I looked at her with suspicion. “No need. I can handle it myself.” “Oh, come on, I know your face best,” Chloe said, pushing me down into the vanity chair. She turned to the makeup artist. “Make her look as plain as possible. Keep it super light. As for the dress…” She scanned my closet and pulled out a plain white, high-necked dress. “Wear this.” A white, long-sleeved, high-necked dress that went all the way to my ankles. I looked like a nun. I stared at myself in the mirror. My naturally sultry, bedroom eyes had been painted to look like a timid, round-eyed girl. My pale skin was covered in a thick layer of dull, dark foundation, and my red lips were muted with a dry nude lipstick. I looked like a withered flower with its petals ripped off. Chloe nodded in satisfaction. “See? Much better. You look like a respectable girl now.” I got it. She was terrified of me stealing her spotlight, so she deliberately made me look ugly. But she forgot one thing: Julian had publicly demanded me last night. No matter what I wore today, he was coming for me. Chloe seemed to have completely blocked that part out. She ran upstairs to change into her ultimate weapon—a champagne-colored designer mermaid gown with a plunging neckline, her hair pinned up to show off her delicate collarbones. She twirled in front of the mirror, a smug smirk on her lips. Her mother, Victoria, walked in and lowered her voice. “Any word from the Sterling family?” Chloe shook her head. “No. But I did some digging. When Julian announced it last night, he said the ‘second daughter of the Vance family.’ Think about it, Mom. Who is the second daughter?” Victoria frowned. “That useless brat, Scarlett?” “Exactly,” Chloe laughed. “But do you honestly think Julian Sterling would marry someone like her? A girl with a homewrecker face? The Sterling patriarch would never allow it. I bet Julian just threw her name out to piss off his family who’s pressuring him to marry.” Victoria nodded. “So today’s proposal is…” “A total bluff,” Chloe said, touching up her lipstick. “When Julian gets here, he’ll realize that the only woman in the Vance family worthy of him is me.” She checked the clock. “Mom, when Julian sees me standing next to that plain, washed-out vixen, who do you think he’ll choose?” Victoria sneered proudly. “Is that even a question? Unless he’s blind, he’ll choose you.” Downstairs, I was made to sit in the darkest corner of the living room. Nobody even bothered to pour me a glass of water. Chloe sat gracefully on the main sofa, her posture perfect, wearing a sweet smile like a queen waiting for her coronation. Victoria was pacing around. “Are the flowers set up? Is the red carpet laid out?” The maids were scrambling, rolling out a long red carpet from the entrance to the living room, lined with hundreds of red roses. Victoria nodded in approval. “The Sterling family represents ultimate wealth. We must have a grand entrance. Chloe, when Julian arrives, don’t speak too quickly. Let him talk first. Got it?” Chloe nodded. “I know, Mom. Elegant and poised.” “Good. That’s how a real billionaire’s wife should behave.” Victoria cast a mocking glare toward my corner. “Unlike some people, who look like they were born to be cheap mistresses.” I kept my head down, playing on my phone, ignoring them. A message from Julian popped up ten minutes ago: “Arriving at ten.” It was currently 9:55 AM. Suddenly, the roar of multiple car engines echoed from outside. The sound got closer and closer. Victoria clapped her hands in excitement. “He’s here! He’s here! Chloe, stand up!” Chloe stood up, smoothed down her gown, took a deep breath, and put on her flawless, sweet smile. The heavy front doors swung open— And everyone froze. Julian wasn’t there. Instead, eight towering bodyguards in black suits marched in, lining up in two perfect rows. Following them was the head butler of the Sterling family, holding a thick crimson ledger. “Listen closely, Vance family. Here is the list of Julian Sterling’s multi-billion-dollar proposal gifts—”

He began to read the list. Three luxury penthouses in Manhattan, valued at three hundred million. A private island in the Maldives, valued at two hundred million. Ten limited-edition supercars, worth fifty million. Five percent of the Sterling Group’s global shares, valued at one billion. Along with rare diamonds, jewelry, and art, totaling another few hundred million. The living room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Victoria’s jaw literally hit the floor, her eyes bulging with greed. Chloe’s eyes welled with tears, her hand flying to her mouth as her voice trembled. “He… he really is doing this for me…” She actually thought this was all for her. After finishing the list, the butler looked up. “Is Miss Scarlett Vance here?” Chloe instinctively took a step forward, smiling warmly. “I am Chloe Vance.” The butler’s face remained completely stoic. “I asked for Scarlett Vance.” The smile on Chloe’s face instantly died. I stood up from my dark corner. “I’m here.” The butler looked at me, his eyes softening with deep respect. “Miss Scarlett, Mr. Sterling will arrive in ten minutes. Please be ready.” Chloe’s face drained of all color. Victoria rushed forward, grabbing the butler’s sleeve. “Wait! You must have made a mistake! The one Julian wants to marry is my daughter, Chloe!” The butler frowned, pulling his arm away. “Madam, Mr. Sterling made it crystal clear last night that he is marrying the second daughter of the Vance family. Do you have another second daughter?” Victoria choked on her words, speechless. Chloe stood frozen on her own red carpet, her expensive gown suddenly looking utterly ridiculous. Just minutes ago, she was gloating in front of the mirror, thinking she was the star of the show. It turned out none of this was for her. She bit her lip, tears finally spilling over. Looking at her pathetic face, I felt absolutely zero pity. Chloe, this is the trap you set for yourself. Ten minutes passed in a flash. The roar of another engine echoed outside. This time, it was a sleek, pitch-black Maybach with a custom license plate. Everyone in the city knew that was Julian Sterling’s personal ride. The car stopped, and the door opened. Julian stepped out. He wore a bespoke black suit, the diamond cufflinks gleaming in the morning sun. Two assistants followed closely behind, carrying leather briefcases. Chloe rushed to the door, forcing a weak smile. “Julian, welcome to our home.” Julian didn’t even look at her. He walked straight past her into the living room, his sharp eyes scanning the space. “Where is Scarlett?” I stepped out from the corner. “Right here.” The moment Julian saw me, his brow furrowed. He stared at my face for three solid seconds before whipping around to glare at Chloe. His voice was like ice. “Who did her makeup?” Chloe stammered, “I… I just had the makeup artist…” “Wash it off,” Julian cut her off, his tone leaving no room for argument. His assistant immediately stepped forward, handing me a pack of luxury makeup-removing wipes. I blinked in surprise, took the wipes, and slowly wiped away the heavy, dull foundation. My pale skin was revealed once more, and without the muddy eyeshadow, my sharp, bedroom eyes shone with their natural, captivating charm. Julian looked at me, a smirk playing on his lips. “Much better.” He waved his hand, and his assistant handed over a document. “Did you review the gift list?” I nodded. “I did.” “Are you satisfied?” Before I could answer, Victoria burst forward. “Julian! You can’t do this! Scarlett… she’s not a respectable girl! Her mother was—” “Shut up,” Julian said. Just two words, but they cut Victoria off like a blade to the throat. She gasped, instantly silenced. Julian turned back to me, his voice softening. “Scarlett, I told you last night I would bring a proposal gift today.” He paused, reaching into his breast pocket, and pulled out a black velvet box. Then, he dropped to one knee. The entire room gasped. Chloe stood on the side, biting her lip so hard it began to bleed. Julian clicked the box open, revealing a flawless, pink diamond ring the size of a quail egg. “Marry me.”

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My mother was a foolishly kind woman. Years ago, she started a fashion line with an unemployed friend. My mom was solely responsible for the designing, sourcing, and pattern-making. Just as the workshop started to take off, that woman ran off overnight with all the design patents and corporate cash, vanishing into thin air. She left behind a mountain of debt, and it all fell on my mother’s shoulders. She cleaned houses by day and drove Uber by night, stubbornly paying off every single cent on her own. But her body broke down. She died of sudden cardiac arrest from overwork. Ten years later, the brand I founded became the pinnacle of the fashion industry. At the Fashion Week Emerging Designer Competition, I sat in the head judge’s chair. The girl standing opposite me was poised, calm, and full of confidence as she presented her portfolio. I stared at those familiar designs and froze. The rest of the panel gave her high scores. I looked at her and pressed my buzzer: “Eliminated. Next.”

The entire hall fell dead silent. Maya Ross, the judge sitting next to me, leaned over and nudged my elbow. She kept her voice incredibly low. “Elena, are you sure you didn’t make a mistake? Her work just got the highest scores of the night. She got a 9.8 for technique and a 9.7 for creativity. Your instant veto…” She didn’t finish her sentence, but the warning was clear. I laid down my grading sheet and tapped my finger on the design descriptions. “I saw it very clearly.” The girl on stage was Summer Sterling, twenty-three years old, who had just graduated from Parsons School of Design. She wore a sharply tailored black blazer dress, her hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Under the spotlights, she stood tall and sharp, like an unsheathed sword. When she was presenting her work just now, her pace was perfect, and she nailed every single technical term. As the slides of her design drafts flipped by—showing fabric swatches, technical details, and inspiration boards—everything looked flawless. The crowd had applauded several times. But as I stared at those sketches, my hand gripped my pen so hard my knuckles turned white. They were too familiar. The way she handled the pleats, the specific angle of the neckline cut, and even the proportions in the color palette—they were all drawn by my mother. Years ago, my mom used to crouch on the floor of our cramped apartment, working under a dim desk lamp, drawing sheet after sheet. Her fingers were deformed from holding pens for too long, leaving a thick callus on the joint of her middle finger. Every time she finished a sketch, she would hold it up and look at it for a long time. Sometimes she smiled, and sometimes she sighed. Those sketches disappeared later. Along with my mother’s so-called friend, every penny in the workshop’s bank account vanished, along with three registered brand patents. My mom didn’t call the police. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. She couldn’t. That woman’s name was never on any legal documents. My mom had trusted her so blindly that they never even signed a formal partnership agreement. As a result, the workshop went bankrupt. Suppliers blocked our door, and workers demanded their wages. My mom cleaned toilets during the day and drove Uber until two in the morning. On the night she died, before she walked out the door, she turned and smiled at me. She said, “Elena, after I finish this last ride, I’ll come back and make you something delicious.” By the time I rushed to the hospital, she was already in the ICU. Intubated, pale, and completely unrecognizable. I held her hand, but she could no longer speak. The last message she managed to pass to me through a nurse was: “Don’t be like me. I was too foolish.” And indeed, I didn’t follow in her footsteps. I was not foolish enough to trust anyone. And I certainly wasn’t foolish enough to let my enemy’s daughter win a championship on my stage. “Elena, may I ask for a reason?” Summer stood on the stage, holding the microphone close to her lips. Her voice was steady, but her fingers gripping the mic were tight, her knuckles turning white. I looked up at her. Her face was a carbon copy of her mother, Vivian Sterling, in her youth. “Your work,” I said coldly, “is suspected of plagiarism.” Summer’s face froze. The crowd gasped, and the sound of camera shutters filled the room. “That’s impossible!” Summer’s voice pitched higher. “Every single one of my designs is original. From the mood board to the final drape, I did it all by myself. I have the entire process documented!” Maya nudged me again, harder this time. “Elena, that’s a very serious accusation. Do you want to reconsider?” Ignoring her, I pulled a few sheets of paper from my folder and spread them across the table.

On the left was Summer’s design shown today; on the right were the sketches my mom had drawn years ago. The paper of the sketches had yellowed, and the pencil lines were slightly smudged, but the skeleton of the design was crystal clear. “Your collection is called “Refraction”, and your inspiration is listed as a fusion of origami art and modern structure,” I said, staring at Summer. “But I noticed that the diagonal cut of the collar, the three-piece structure of the sleeves, and the vertical darting on the back are identical to my mother’s designs from ten years ago.” Summer’s face went pale. She parted her lips, but no sound came out. I held up the comparison sheets toward the nearest camera. “These designs were fully prototyped by my mother twenty years ago. The person she was partnering with back then was named Vivian Sterling.” Hearing that name, Summer stumbled back a step. She gripped the edge of the podium, her nails digging into the wood. “Do you know Vivian Sterling?” I asked. Summer’s lips trembled. She lowered her head, then looked up again, the confidence in her eyes completely shattered. “She… she is my mother.” “What a coincidence.” I let out a cold laugh and tossed the papers back onto the table. “Your mother and mine started a garment workshop together back then. My mother was in charge of design and production, while yours handled marketing and sales.” “Just as the business started to thrive, your mother stole all the patent documents, design sketches, and cash overnight, and disappeared.” “That’s a lie,” Summer stammered, her voice shaking. “My mom isn’t that kind of person… She told me that your mother’s poor management ruined the workshop, and she was forced to leave…” “Then tell me, how does a poorly managed workshop manage to secure three registered trademarks and seventeen design patents in just three months?” My voice wasn’t loud, but every word echoed clearly in the quiet room. Summer had no answer. The media in the audience went wild. Reporters began typing furiously on their phones, while photographers pushed forward to get a better shot. On the live-stream platform, the comments were flying across the screen. Summer’s mentor, a middle-aged man with black-rimmed glasses named Professor Harrison, stood up. He cleared his throat. “Elena, could there be some misunderstanding here? Summer has been an outstanding student. Her talent is undeniable. She wouldn’t…” “Professor Harrison,” I interrupted him. “You say her talent is undeniable. But have you actually seen her complete creative process for her graduation project? Is the documentation for every step—from research to sketches, to muslins, to the final garment—complete?” Professor Harrison hesitated. “Well… most students just submit the final pieces. The process files are…” “Which is why I have the complete process files right here.” I pulled a thick stack of papers from my folder. “These are the original manuscripts left by my mother. Every single page is dated and contains revision logs. Miss Sterling’s work shares a seventy-percent similarity with the designs her mother stole from mine.” I slammed the stack of manuscripts onto the table. It wasn’t loud, but it carried immense weight. The air froze. Summer stood on the stage, her lips trembling, her eyes red. But she bit her lip, refusing to let herself cry. “I will say it one more time.” I sat back up, my gaze sweeping over the room. “Summer Sterling is eliminated. Next.” Nobody moved. The host stood frozen on stage, holding the microphone halfway up, completely forgetting to speak. Maya whispered something next to me, but I didn’t care to listen. Suddenly, Summer spoke up. “Elena.”

Her voice was hoarse, but she forced out every word. “I knew absolutely nothing about what you just said. The work I submitted was indeed done by me, independently.” “If you believe there is plagiarism, please show direct evidence that “I” copied it, rather than blaming me because of my mother.” I looked at her. She stared back, her eyes red but her chin held high. In this regard, she was nothing like Vivian. Before Vivian ran off with the money, she had cried like a baby in front of my mother, saying, “Sister, I’m so glad I have you.” Then she turned around and wiped the place clean. “Miss Sterling,” I picked up my glass and took a sip of water. It was just the right temperature. “I have no obligation to prove anything to you. As a judge, I have the right to grade based on my professional judgment.” “Your work is suspected of plagiarism, and I voted to eliminate you. That is well within my authority. If you are unsatisfied, you can appeal to the committee after the show.” I set my glass down and nodded at the host. “Continue.” The host swallowed hard, finally finding his voice. “Right… okay, next contestant, please get ready…” Summer still didn’t move. She stared at me with a complex mix of grievance, anger, and something I couldn’t quite decipher. Probably resentment. After all, this was likely the first time in her life she had been publicly rejected so brutally. But today, she had run straight into a brick wall. “Why are you still standing there?” I shot her another look. “Your evaluation is over.” Summer took a deep breath, turned, and walked off the stage. As she descended, the sharp clicks of her heels on the floor echoed through the quiet room. As the next contestant walked up, I leaned back, my fingers resting on the edge of the grading sheet, my eyes scanning the new girl. She was very young, maybe two years younger than Summer. Her voice trembled when she spoke, but her designs actually had substance. I gave her an above-average score, neither holding her back nor overhyping her. Beside me, Maya wanted to say something several times. During the intermission, she finally couldn’t hold it in anymore. She grabbed my sleeve and pulled me into a corner. “Elena, what the hell are you doing? You were too impulsive today! Summer is Vivian’s daughter. Don’t you know Vivian’s status in this industry?” “She controls half of the supply chain. If you cross her, how are you going to survive in this business?” I looked into Maya’s eyes. They were filled with anxiety and frustration on my behalf. She genuinely cared about me, and I appreciated that. But some things couldn’t be measured by business interests. “Maya,” I gently pulled my sleeve from her grip. “Do you know how my mother died?” Maya froze. She had known me for years, but I rarely mentioned my mother. Every time she asked, I would change the subject. This was the first time I had ever brought it up myself. “She died of overwork,” I said. “Cleaning houses by day, driving Uber by night. On the night she died, she had been driving for eleven consecutive hours. She rear-ended a truck on the highway right after her last trip.” Maya opened her mouth, but no words came out. “She worked herself to death to pay off debts. Debts that Vivian left her.” I turned and walked away, saying nothing more. The afternoon session continued. Summer didn’t return to the audience, and Vivian was nowhere to be seen. But I knew this wouldn’t end here. Sure enough. At eight o’clock that night, my phone started buzzing. The first message was from my business partner: “Elena, this is bad! Go online right now!”

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I was the unforgettable first love who vanished from a billionaire’s life. Five years later, I flew back to Chicago on Ethan’s birthday, wanting to surprise him. But outside his apartment door, I heard a woman’s soft, breathless gasps. Then came Ethan’s voice. It was raspy, strained, and filled with the intense passion I used to know so well. “Sienna…” The woman’s voice was as sweet as honey. “Didn’t you used to call out for Alana, Mr. Vance?” “Why not today?” Ethan growled, “Because you’ve completely bewitched me. Is that not enough?” The rest of their sounds faded into a blur. A cold dread washed over me. I turned around and walked away. On my way out, Chloe sent me a Snapchat. [Lana, I forgot to tell you. Ethan has a woman named Sienna Hayes around him now.] [But she’s just your stand-in. They have an agreement—the moment you come back, she has to pack her bags and leave. She’s no threat to you.] I thought to myself: Right now, Ethan probably doesn’t want her to leave at all. I had spent over ten hours on a flight, crossing half the globe, returning with a heart full of hope. But I didn’t come back to rekindle things. I came back to confirm that Ethan had already given his heart to someone else.

I checked into a hotel. At 2:00 AM, my phone lit up. It was a FaceTime call from Ethan. I stared at his name flashing on the screen and let it ring. For five years after I left, this name had haunted my dreams countless times. I used to dream that he found me, his eyes red as he demanded to know why I threw him away. And in those dreams, I would tell him the truth. But now, with his call actually coming through, I didn’t know what to say. The ringing stopped. A few seconds later, a Snapchat message popped up from him. [You’re back in town?] It took me a long time to reply. [Yeah.] He answered almost instantly. [Did you come to my place last night?] He had noticed. Maybe it was the wet footprint on the welcome mat, or maybe it was the digital lock’s history. But he didn’t ask if I got caught in the rain. He didn’t ask why I didn’t come in, or where I was staying. He was only trying to confirm if I had seen something I shouldn’t have. I replied: [I did.] There was a long silence on his end. Finally, he text back: [Let’s meet tomorrow.] Outside, the rain was pouring heavily. The hotel room’s harsh white light made everything feel cold and lifeless. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I remembered my first night in London five years ago. The guards my father hired stood outside my door. They had confiscated my passport and my phone. I was burning with a fever so high that my mind was hazy, yet I kept begging them to give my phone back. I wanted to call Ethan. I wanted to tell him that his mother’s medical bills had been paid, and that my father would help sort out his struggling startup. I didn’t leave him on purpose. I just didn’t have a choice. But the next morning, I saw an email my father had sent to Ethan using my account. It was brutally short. [Ethan, I’m tired. I don’t want to struggle with you anymore. Let’s break up.] I had knelt on the carpet, crying until I couldn’t breathe. Later, I tried to contact him. But his number was disconnected, and my emails were blocked. Our mutual friends had been warned by my father; no one dared to help me pass a message. I thought that with time, once my father relented and Ethan got back on his feet, we would finally have a chance to explain things. But five years was too long. It was long enough for a broke boy with nothing to his name to become the powerful CEO of Vance Enterprises. It was long enough for him to hold another woman tightly in his arms. The next afternoon, I went to Vance Enterprises. Ethan didn’t come down to meet me himself. He sent his assistant. When the assistant saw me, his expression was incredibly conflicted. “Ms. Miller, Mr. Vance is waiting for you in his penthouse office.” Years ago, Ethan’s people used to call me “Lana.” Now, they looked at me like I was a ghost from a past that didn’t belong here anymore. When I entered the office, Ethan was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, smoking. Five years had stripped away his old gentleness, leaving only a sharp, cold edge. His black shirt was buttoned to the top, and a luxury watch gleamed on his wrist. Hearing the door open, he turned around. The moment his eyes landed on me, something intense flickered deep within them. But quickly, he masked it with cold indifference. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?” I looked at him. “I wanted to surprise you.” His hand holding the cigarette paused slightly. Ethan walked over and shut the office door. “Last night… how much did you hear?” I met his gaze. “How much did you want me to hear?” His expression darkened. “Lana, don’t play mind games with me.” “Sienna is just…” He paused, stopping himself. I finished the sentence for him. “A stand-in?” Ethan’s face turned incredibly pale. “Alana, you were gone for five years!” “You were the one who betrayed us first. What right do you have to question me now?”

Resentment flared in his eyes. “My mother was in the ICU, fighting for her life, and you didn’t answer my calls.” “I was cornered by reporters outside my office, looking like a desperate dog, and you weren’t there.” “And then I got your email, saying you were tired and didn’t want to waste your life on me.” He took a step closer, crowding my space. “And now you come back, see someone else by my side, and feel wronged?” My fingertips trembled slightly. “I didn’t send that email.” Ethan let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Then who did?” I opened my mouth to explain. But right then, his phone rang. The name “Sienna” flashed on the screen. His finger twitched. It was an instinct—more honest than any word he had ever spoken to me. The phone rang a second time. And a third. Finally, Ethan picked it up, his tone harsh. “What is it?” I couldn’t hear the other side, but his brow furrowed deeply. “Don’t cry.” After a brief pause, Ethan hung up and looked at me. “She’s not feeling well. I need to head back.” I nodded. “Go ahead.” My calm reaction seemed to irritate him. “Alana, what is with this attitude?” I countered: “What attitude should I have?” “You vanished for five years, and the moment you return, you act like the victim. I am under no obligation to wait for you forever.” With that, he slammed the door and left. I stood in the quiet office, remembering how Ethan used to fight with me. No matter how angry he was, he would never leave me alone. He would stand outside my door all night. “Lana, open the door.” “I was wrong.” “I just lost my temper. Please don’t ignore me.” Back then, I thought we would fight and have cold wars, but we would never lose each other. Now I realized there is no such thing as “forever” in this world. The news of my return quickly spread through our old circle. On the third night, Chloe threw a welcome-back party for me. By the time I arrived, there were already a dozen people in the VIP lounge. The moment they saw me, the teasing began. “Lana’s finally back!” “Where’s Ethan? Why didn’t he come with you?” “You two were so crazy about each other back then. Are you getting back together now?” “Ethan has been thinking about you all these years, you know.” Hearing those words, my throat felt dry. Thinking about me? Maybe he did. But he also had someone else in his bed. Chloe pushed me into the center seat and whispered, “Don’t worry about anything tonight. We’ve all got your back.” I forced a small smile. “There’s no need.” “Of course there is.” She lowered her voice, her eyes filled with pain for me. “You suffered in London for five years because of him. Why should you come back and take this kind of disrespect?” Before I could reply, the door swung open. Ethan walked in. He wore a long black coat, his expression cold. The moment he entered, his eyes immediately locked onto me. For a split second, I saw a flash of vulnerability in his eyes. But just as quickly, he went back to being distant. Someone immediately joked: “Late to the party, Mr. Vance!” “Lana’s back, you owe her at least three shots!” “Seriously! You two were the most dramatic couple in our group back then.” “Now that Lana’s back, you better start chasing her again!”

Ethan glanced at me and gave a curt nod. Sensing the tense atmosphere, someone tried to smooth things over. “Look at him, Ethan’s actually shy!” “He was so wild back then, and now he’s acting all polite.” I kept my head down, taking a sip of water. It was ice-cold. It slid down my throat, making my chest ache. After a few rounds of drinks, the mood in the room got lively. Someone suddenly laughed and said: “Hey, since we’re celebrating Lana’s return, shouldn’t we invite his other girl too?” “We’re all friends here. Sienna’s been close with Ethan these past few years. Let’s call her over to hang out.” Before anyone could stop him, he actually dialed the number. Ethan frowned. “Stop messing around.” But the call had already gone through. A few minutes later, we heard the host guiding someone down the hall. The door opened. Sienna stood at the entrance. She wore a soft white knit dress, her eyes slightly red as if she had been crying before she got here. The moment she walked in, the entire room fell dead silent. Everyone’s eyes darted back and forth between her and me. Sienna did look like me. Especially her eyes and brow. Five years ago, I was just as thin, and I loved wearing light colors too. But she looked much more fragile, like she would break at the slightest touch. Jared Stone smirked and waved her over. “Sienna, come on, sit here.” He was pointing to the empty seat right next to me. Ethan slammed his glass onto the table, shattering it. “Jared, don’t push it!” Jared shrugged. “What did I do? Everyone just wants to see what it’s like when the original and the stand-in are in the same room.” At those words, Sienna’s face went completely pale. She clutched her purse, tears instantly spilling over. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know Ms. Miller was here.” She turned to leave. Ethan stood up and grabbed her wrist. “Sienna.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough to silence the room. Sienna froze, keeping her back to him, her shoulders trembling. “I didn’t mean to.” “I really didn’t want to steal anyone’s place…” The air in the room was thick with awkwardness. Everyone was staring at me. Some looked sympathetic, some embarrassed, and others pretended to take drinks. Ethan finally turned his gaze to me. In that look, there was resentment, anger, and a strange kind of blame that I couldn’t quite comprehend. It was as if Sienna’s humiliation was entirely my fault. I slowly stood up. “I wasn’t the one who called her.” Ethan’s voice was ice-cold. “But these are your friends.” I froze. Then, I laughed. So even this was being blamed on me. Sienna cried harder. “Don’t blame Lana. I shouldn’t have come.” As she spoke, her knees buckled. Ethan’s expression changed instantly, and he caught her. “Sienna?” She slumped weakly into his arms. “I can’t… I can’t breathe…” Ignoring everyone else, Ethan scooped Sienna up in his arms. As he passed by me, I instinctively called out to him. “Ethan.” “Today is my welcome party.” Ethan looked down at me. In his arms, Sienna was still sobbing, her fingers tightly clutching his shirt. He remained silent for two seconds. Finally, he said, “She’s sick.” Then, he carried her out without looking back. The door clicked shut quietly. But to me, it felt like a bomb had gone off in my ears. Everyone in the room was frozen. Chloe’s eyes were red. She wanted to run after him, but I held her back. Her voice shook. “Lana…” I shook my head. “Don’t. Let him go.” There was nothing left to chase. He had made his choice. The party ended in awkward silence. Some tried to comfort me, saying Ethan was just confused. Others cursed Sienna for being manipulative and faking a faint. And some said Ethan had actually been miserable these past few years, and he was only using Sienna to hurt me because he was bitter about me leaving without a word. Hearing all of that just made me feel exhausted. Using her to hurt me? What a joke. If this was all just a punishment, it felt way too real.

I went back to the hotel alone. The moment I stepped into my room, my phone buzzed. An unknown number had sent me a video. I tapped it. The background was a hospital hallway. Sienna was sitting on a bench, pale-faced, her eyes swollen from crying. Ethan stood in front of her, holding a bag of prescription medicine. Suddenly, Sienna threw herself into his arms. “Ethan, did I make a fool of myself tonight?” “Everyone says I’m just a stand-in. They say now that Alana is back, I should just get lost.” “But I’m the one who stayed by your side for five years!” “I took care of you when your stomach flared up. I stayed up with you when you couldn’t sleep. Even when you got drunk and called out her name, I swallowed my pride and stayed.” “What am I to you?” Ethan didn’t push her away immediately. His hand hovered in the air for a long time. Finally, he let it rest gently on her back. Sienna sobbed louder. “Do you still love Alana?” In the video, Ethan remained silent for what felt like an eternity. Sienna looked up, tears streaming down her face. “I want the truth.” “If you had to choose between her and me, who would it be?” Ethan closed his eyes. His voice was low and hollow. “Sienna, I don’t love her anymore.” The words were soft. But they felt like a sharp blade, precisely piercing through the last bit of hope I had clung to for five years. Sienna hugged him tightly, weeping. “Then don’t make me a stand-in anymore, okay?” Ethan didn’t say anything. But he leaned down and held her even tighter. The video cut off there. A few seconds later, another text came from the unknown number. [Ms. Miller, coming back was just humilating yourself.] Staring at the screen, I suddenly laughed. And then, the tears started falling. For five years, I had faced temptations. But I never took a single step out of line. Because I knew I was going back to Ethan. So I kept my distance from everyone else. But Ethan didn’t wait. He found someone who looked like me and kept her close. Hugging, kissing, sleeping together. What was the point of my loyalty? I saved the video and didn’t reply. At 4:00 AM, I booked the earliest flight to New York. Chloe called me soon after, her voice full of tears. “Lana, you just got back. Why are you leaving again?” I looked out the window at the dark sky. “Because I realized this place is entirely foreign to me now.” “You can explain things to Ethan.” “There’s no point.” The person he loves is no longer me. Even if he knows the truth now, what difference would it make? I had arrived with a heart full of hope, thinking I was finally coming home. But as I left, I left nothing behind. I deactivated the phone number I had used for years and blocked every contact associated with the Vance family. When the airport intercom announced my flight, I took one last look at the city. This was where my passionate youth had been. This was where the boy I loved with all my heart once lived. And this was where my most humiliating reunion took place. Now, it was all over.

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