Category: English

1 My mother passed away in a sudden, tragic accident. Yet, just a day before her funeral, my wife was busy traveling back to her young assistant’s rural hometown to marry him. When I confronted her, she looked at me as if I were the one being unreasonable. “His mother is terminally ill, Arthur. Her dying wish is to see him get married. I am just helping him out. It is not like we are actually going to sleep together. Why are you acting so hysterical?” But when I called her that night, her young assistant, Noah, was the one who answered the phone. “She is already exhausted from the trip, Arthur. She is fast asleep right now. If you need something, just tell me.” I sat in the suffocating silence of my living room for a long moment before quietly ending the call. Early the next morning, my wife called. “I am going to go through with the wedding ceremony with Noah today. Just postpone your mother’s funeral for a few days.” I did not say a word. I simply hung up, buried my mother in silence, and then picked up the phone to call my lawyer. “Please draft the divorce papers.” Stella never showed up on the day of the funeral. Swallowing my grief, I handled everything alone. From carrying the casket to lowering it into the cold earth. My mother had worked tirelessly her entire life, and in death, I refused to let her suffer any more indignity. I handled every detail personally, my hands trembling but resolute. The guests offered their condolences, but my uncles were visibly furious. “Missing an event this massive? Not even showing her face? How cold-blooded can she be?” “Let us go down to her parents’ house! I want to ask them exactly how they raised such a daughter!” Their anger boiled over, and they were ready to storm her family estate. I stepped in front of them, gently shaking my head. “Do not bother. It is not worth it.” That morning, I had already seen Stella’s social media updates. She was drowning in the rustic romance of a country wedding. Why would she spare a single thought for a funeral? Her heart had checked out of our marriage a long time ago. Having her here would only poison the air. My mother’s farewell did not need the presence of someone utterly devoid of a soul. The heavy mahogany casket gradually disappeared beneath the dirt. I took the shovel from one of the gravediggers, scooped up a pile of damp earth, and let it fall gently over the wood. The only person in this world who loved me unconditionally was gone forever. When the service ended, I sent Stella a text. [The funeral is over.] The message sank like a stone in an endless ocean. No reply. Maybe she was too busy to see it. Maybe she saw it and just could not be bothered to type a response. It did not matter anymore. Because I no longer cared. After seeing off the last of the guests, I contacted a top-tier family law firm, explained my situation, and officially retained a lawyer to dissolve my marriage. The moment I stepped through my front door, my phone buzzed with a video message from Noah. The screen filled with the sights and sounds of a boisterous barn wedding. It was incredibly loud, draped in floral arrangements and rustic lights, every face in the background flushed with celebration. Noah’s voice bled through the speaker, dripping with a sickening blend of triumph and fake pity. “Oh man, it is such a shame you are not here, Arthur. Look at this. I told Stella we did not need to go all out, but she insisted. Cost an absolute fortune.” I let out a flat, hollow noise of acknowledgment and moved to hang up. But then the camera panned. There, standing in the center of the frame, was Stella. She was wearing a stunning white bridal gown, her face glowing with a sweet, radiant happiness I had not seen directed at me in years. “Look over here, babe,” Noah coaxed. Stella turned her head. When she realized he was recording a video to send to me, she did not flinch. She did not try to hide. Instead, she waved enthusiastically. “Hey honey! The country aesthetic is actually gorgeous! It is such a pity your mom passed away right now. Otherwise, you could have come down and joined the fun.” Joined the fun? The phone rattled against my shaking palm. So, in her eyes, the tragic death of the woman who gave me life was nothing more than an inconvenient schedule conflict that kept me from attending my own wife’s fake wedding. 2 Looking back, Stella and I had walked side by side for eight long years. Just last year, I had secretly counted my blessings, relieved that we had smoothly sailed past the dreaded seven-year itch. Now, reality had delivered a brutal, waking slap to the face. I could not pinpoint exactly when it started, but Stella’s patience for me had simply evaporated. The gentle, understanding woman I married was replaced by someone volatile, prone to explosive tempers and erratic moods. Sometimes, a slightly overcooked dinner was enough to make her storm out of the house. Every time we fought, I was the one who yielded. I swallowed my pride. It did not matter who was at fault or how far she crossed the line. I loved her, so I compromised. Then Noah entered the picture. Their relationship escalated with terrifying speed. Every day was a blur of lingering touches, inside jokes, and deeply inappropriate eye contact. While my mother was still alive, the neighborhood gossips made sure the whispers reached her ears. Worried, she had gently asked Stella about it. Stella had erupted into a screaming fit, shattering plates against the kitchen wall and screaming that my mother was a paranoid, toxic woman who wanted to ruin her life. My mother had only asked out of genuine concern. When I came home from work that night, I found my mother sitting alone on the sofa, her eyes red and swollen. Stella, meanwhile, did not come home at all. She ignored my calls and left my texts on read, only strutting back into the house the next morning. That was the first time I ever truly lost my temper with her. Stella looked at me like I was insane, completely bewildered as to why I was making such a big deal out of nothing. She had conveniently forgotten how my mother had treated her like her own flesh and blood from the day we exchanged our vows. Later, when my mother’s health failed and she was hospitalized, Stella never visited. Not once. At first, a blinding anger consumed me. But eventually, a numbing exhaustion took its place. We had been married for so long. I foolishly convinced myself that if we just weathered this storm, if we just survived this rough patch, the warmth would eventually return to our home. I trapped myself in a beautifully constructed delusion. I hypnotized myself with false hope. Until the flatline sounded in that sterile hospital room. Staring at my mother’s rapidly cooling body, the veil finally dropped. I realized how pathetically comical my hopes had been. Stella and I were already a rotting corpse of a marriage. There was no future. She had packed her bags the day before the funeral. I had naively assumed she was just stressed and would turn around. Instead, she called to demand I put my mother’s burial on hold. Her reason? Noah’s mother was unwell and wanted to see him bring home a bride. And that bride had to be my wife. It was sickeningly laughable. Her own mother-in-law was dead. But instead of wearing black, she was busy playing dress-up for another man. Even if she hated my mother, basic human decency dictated respect for the dead. She knew that. She just did not care. When my heart finally shattered, there was no loud explosion. Just a quiet, absolute death of everything I ever felt for her. 3 With the funeral behind me, I began packing up my mother’s belongings. There was not much. A few simple dresses, some worn knitting needles, and a handful of tarnished jewelry. When my fingers brushed against a heavy, beautifully ornate vintage gold locket, my breath caught in my throat. My mother had told me time and time again that this was my grandmother’s heirloom. It was meant to be locked around the neck of the woman who would carry our family’s love into the next generation. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the gold. Right then, my phone lit up with a text from Stella. [Hubby, I am going to be swamped the next few days taking wedding photos and family portraits. I will not be coming home.] I did not reply. A cynical, dry laugh scraped its way up my throat. I carefully wrapped the gold locket in velvet and placed it securely in my safe. It was my mother’s dying wish to pass this on, but I would rather melt it down than let it touch Stella’s skin. She was completely unworthy. Late that night, I saw her newest social media post. It was a professional family portrait of her, Noah, and Noah’s parents. The caption read: [A Happy Family.] In the photo, Noah’s hand was wrapped tightly around her waist. They were looking deeply into each other’s eyes, absolute adoration radiating from their smiles. I had almost forgotten that Stella could look so soft, so tender. Or perhaps, she had always been tender. She just reserved it exclusively for the people she actually loved. Two days later, she finally called. She ordered me to pick her up from the central train station. I was mildly confused at first. She had driven her own luxury SUV down to the country. Why was she taking the train back? The moment I pulled up to the arrivals curb, everything made sense. Standing there with Stella and Noah was a massive flock of elderly, loud, and visibly demanding country relatives. They were blocking the sidewalk, pointing at the city skyline and shouting over each other. Stella caught my eye and sighed, gesturing to the crowd. “Noah’s mom and his extended family wanted to see the city. You need to help entertain them.” She did not need to spell it out. The raw, unfiltered greed sparkling in their eyes was a mirror image of the look Noah wore every day. I kept my mouth shut, my face a mask of absolute indifference. Noah swaggered over, the smugness practically leaking from his pores. “Sorry for the trouble, Arthur. Really appreciate you making the trip out here.” He flashed a bright, perfectly practiced smile. “I kept telling my beautiful bride that we could just hail a few cabs, but she insisted you had to come. Makes me feel kind of bad, honestly.” He held out a hand. I stared at it, then up at his face, without moving a single muscle. Noah let his hand fall, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. Stella immediately stepped forward, her voice sharp and dripping with venom. “Are you blind? Or did you just leave whatever manners you had in the gutter today?” Before I could even form a response, Noah’s mother pushed her way to the front. She was a hawkish older woman with calculating eyes, gripping Stella’s arm tightly. “Oh dear, why is there only one car, Stella? We have half the village here. How are we all supposed to squeeze into that?” “Let me call a luxury transport service,” Stella said, reaching for her phone. Noah’s mom snatched her wrist. “Nonsense! Why should you spend your money? Just have your driver here take the bus home. He can leave the car, and the three of us will take it back to your place.” Stella hesitated, looking at me. There was a flicker of something in her eyes. A request for permission. I felt absolutely nothing. I pulled the car keys from my pocket and tossed them directly into Noah’s chest. “Sure. Fine by me.” Stella let out a heavy breath of relief, lifting her chin at me dismissively. “Then hurry up and figure out their hotel arrangements. Do not keep my relatives waiting in the wind.” With that, the three of them piled into my car and sped off into the city traffic. Before the windows rolled up, I caught the undisguised gloating in the eyes of Noah and his mother. They thought they had put me in my place. They thought they had won. They had no idea that the game was already over, and I had already left the table. 4 By the time I managed to wrangle the herd of loud, demanding relatives into the hotel lobby, Stella was waiting by the elevators. The moment she saw me, she hurried over. “Listen, Noah and his mom said they want to attend your mother’s funeral to pay their respects. They are upstairs changing right now. Wait in the lobby. Once they are dressed, drive us over.” “Absolutely not.” The refusal left my lips before she even finished her sentence. “My mother valued her peace. Besides, these people are strangers. They have no business being there.” Stella’s face instantly twisted in annoyance. “But I already promised them! They were just praising how kind-hearted I am.” “And anyway, they traveled all this way. It is the thought that counts. What is the harm in letting them take one look?” The thought? A cold smirk played on my lips. Crocodile tears from a pack of vultures. I would rather the graveyard be completely empty than tainted by their presence. I was about to shut her down completely when the elevator doors chimed open. Noah and his mother stepped into the lobby. Noah was dressed decently enough, wearing a tailored black suit with a white rose pinned to his lapel. But when my eyes landed on his mother, the blood in my veins turned to ice. She was wearing a blindingly bright, sequined neon pink dress. She looked like a walking disco ball meant for a bachelorette party. Was she going to a funeral, or was she deliberately trying to spit on my mother’s grave? “You are wearing that to a funeral?” My voice was lethal, dropping the temperature in the room. Noah’s mother did not look embarrassed in the slightest. She rolled her eyes at me, muttered the word “hillbilly” under her breath, and waved Stella over. “Stella, honey, look at this. Does this outfit work for today?” Stella rushed to her side, grabbing her hands and nodding enthusiastically. “It is perfect. Simply gorgeous. If you ask me, this is exactly what you should wear. It makes you look so youthful and full of life.” My eyes widened. I stared at the woman I had been married to for nearly a decade. She said it was perfect. Stella did not even glance my way. She smiled warmly, gently guiding the older woman toward the revolving doors. When she noticed I had not moved an inch, she frowned in irritation. “What is your problem now? I literally just married her son. The poor woman just wants to wear something bright and happy to celebrate. Is that a crime?” “You are going to throw a tantrum over some fabric?” I looked at her. I felt a terrifying, absolute calm wash over my entire soul. My lips pulled back into a chilling smile. “You are right. I am being entirely too petty.” Ignoring Stella’s confused, slightly unnerved stare, I walked past them and got straight into the driver’s seat of the rental car. It was crystal clear. Every shred of hope I had ever harbored for this woman was toxic waste. My mother did not exist in her world. She never had. The drive was agonizingly tense. Stella’s face was a storm of conflicting emotions. Several times she opened her mouth to speak, and every single time, I cut her off instantly. “It is rush hour. Keep quiet. If I get distracted, we crash.” My voice was dead. Flat. It made Stella flinch, a flash of unease crossing her features before she finally clamped her mouth shut. But Noah’s mother was not used to silence. “Stella, what is wrong with this driver you hired? He has absolutely zero manners. If I were you, I would have fired him months ago.” I almost laughed out loud. What kind of delusional parasite was she, trying to dictate my life in my own car? Stella looked mortified. “Please do not be angry, Mom. He just… he speaks without thinking. Please do not take offense.” Noah’s mother sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “You have suffered so much these past years, my sweet girl. The very first time I laid eyes on you, I knew the universe made you specifically to be our family’s daughter-in-law.” “I love you right down to my bones.” She actually brought a hand up to wipe away a completely imaginary tear. Noah immediately leaned over to comfort her. “Do not cry, Mom. Everything is perfect now. Stella already promised we are going to start trying for a baby soon. I will give you a big, healthy grandson.” Stella’s face drained of color. She frantically slapped Noah’s knee. “Stop talking nonsense! I have no intention of having a child anytime soon!” Noah lowered his head submissively, but through the rearview mirror, I caught the vicious, toxic glare he shot her. Stella rushed to explain, though her words felt directed entirely at the back of my head. “My career is taking off right now. A baby is out of the question. We will talk about it years down the line.” I nodded slowly, keeping my eyes fixed on the road. She did not need to panic. She did not need to explain. A year ago, a conversation like this would have broken me. I would have screamed. I would have demanded answers. But today? I did not care if she had his baby tomorrow. Our timeline had reached a dead end. 5 When the car finally rolled to a stop at the sprawling gates of the memorial park, Stella looked out the window in confusion. “Why are we here?” She honestly could not comprehend why anyone would host a funeral at a cemetery instead of a lavish memorial hall. “Did you type in the wrong address, Arthur?” I killed the engine. Through the rearview mirror, my dead eyes met her questioning gaze. “No. This is the place.” Something clicked in her mind. The color vanished from her cheeks, leaving her looking like a ghost. “Are you saying…” “Yes.” I nodded, shifting my gaze to the rolling green hills lined with gray stones. My voice held absolutely zero emotion. “She is already in the ground. I buried her while you were busy planning a baby with him.” Stella froze. When reality finally crashed into her, she lunged forward, her fingers digging painfully into my shoulder, her face twisted in a manic rage. “You did this on purpose, did you not? I explicitly told you to postpone it!” I violently shoved her hands off me. My voice was laced with pure, unfiltered disgust. “Do you truly believe you are the center of the universe? That gravity itself shifts just to accommodate you?” “The date was set. The arrangements were made. Did you expect my mother’s body to rot in a morgue just because you were busy playing house?” Stella was stunned into silence. But Noah’s mother screeched from the backseat. “What is the big deal about waiting a few days? A brilliant, rich girl like Stella was willing to stoop down and attend your mother’s little burial. You should be kissing her feet in gratitude! Instead, you have the audacity to complain?” “You ungrateful little rat!” Noah nodded vigorously. “Exactly. You just take and take. Stella takes such good care of you, and you do not even consider her feelings for one second?” My jaw locked. I stared straight ahead, a statue carved from ice. I considered Stella’s feelings. But who considered mine? Who considered the woman who brought me into this world, lowering into the dark alone? Stella remained silent for a long, suffocating minute. She took a ragged breath. “Where is the grave? Take me to it.” I shook my head slowly. “You can walk up. They stay in the car.” I pointed a stiff finger at Noah and the neon-pink nightmare sitting next to him. “Those people will do nothing but defile the dead. They are not stepping foot on that grass.” The old woman’s face twisted into an ugly sneer, her mouth opening to spew more venom, but Stella cut her off sharply. “Fine. Just you and me.” I walked ahead, the gravel crunching beneath my shoes. Stella trailed closely behind me. The entire walk up the hill, she did not stop talking. A relentless stream of justifications and accusations. “Why did you bury her without my final approval? You could have at least sent me a text!” “How do you think this makes me look? A wife who skips her own mother-in-law’s burial? Do you want society to crucify me?” When I refused to offer even a single syllable in response, Stella snapped. She sprinted ahead, planting herself directly in my path, forcing me to stop. “You do not care about me at all anymore, do you?” I looked into her furious, blazing eyes. My heart was a flatline. “The date of the funeral was set days ago. You knew that. Why did I need to send a special invitation to my own wife?” “And I did text you after it was done. You chose to ignore it. What right do you have to stand on my mother’s grave and demand answers from me?” Stella’s expression cracked. She yanked her phone from her designer purse, her thumbs flying across the screen. I watched in total apathy as the anger drained from her face, replaced first by shock, then a sickening, pale dread. When she finally looked up at me, there was genuine panic trembling in her eyes. “I… I am so sorry. I…” “I swear I did not see the message. I was not trying to ignore you. I…” I let out a harsh, bitter laugh, slicing right through her pathetic excuses. “Does it matter now?” “She is in the dirt, Stella. What do you want me to do? Dig her up so you can pretend to care for the cameras?” “How can you say something so sick!” Stella flared up again, her guilt instantly weaponized into defensiveness. “I was just…” “Enough.” I stepped around her, my eyes fixed on the horizon. “You wanted to pay your respects. Here we are. Do it quickly. This is the last time you will ever come here.” Stella froze in her tracks. She spun around, grabbing my sleeve, her voice suddenly small and shaky. “What… what is that supposed to mean?” I stared down at her hands, then up to her face. My voice was a death sentence. “The divorce papers are printed. I am just waiting for your signature.”

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It had been three years since I started running a flower shop to support him, and he’d gone bankrupt again. The first time, I’d sold the house my grandmother left me, paying off seven hundred thousand. The second time, I’d dug out the savings account my mother had set aside as a nest egg for my future, settling a debt of one point six million. Now, with his third bankruptcy looming, I stared at his vacant, dry eyes, my fingers hovering over the number of my estranged, billionaire father. I hesitated, wondering if I should call. But that very evening, I stumbled upon a chat group on his tablet: “Mr. Davies, how much should we put down for the bankruptcy settlement this time?” “Make it ten million. Otherwise, the little flower seller will just pay it off in one go. Where’s the fun in that?” “You really know how to play, Mr. Davies. I hear the little flower seller nurtures flowers by day and nurtures you by night. Never gets old, does it?” I set the tablet down, picked up my phone, and dialed my billionaire father. “All you want is for me to inherit the family business and marry your protégé, right? Fine. I’ll do it.” “Send someone to pick me up in three days.” 01 Hanging up with my father, Louis Davies walked back in, a signed IOU in his hand. “Cathy, I’m so sorry. I owe another ten million this time. I’m useless.” His acting was flawless; the lost look in his eyes used to always elicit the same response from me: “It’s okay, we’ll work through this together. We’ll pay it off eventually.” But now, I just stared silently at the half-exposed watch on his wrist. It looked unassuming, but I’d seen it in a magazine. It was worth one hundred and sixty million. Louis Davies, with a watch worth one hundred and sixty million, couldn’t pay off a ten-million-dollar debt. And I, with nothing to my name, was considering taking out a loan for him. My sincerity had become the very fuel for his casual manipulation. Noticing my gaze on his watch, Louis, without a flicker of expression, pulled me into a hug. “It’s just a fake, Cathy. When I’m rich, I’ll buy you anything you want.” Knowing I was poor and didn’t recognize luxury brands, he didn’t even need to put much thought into his lies. I averted my eyes, only to see another message pop up on the tablet beside me. “Mr. Davies, what’s the little lady going to sell to pay off the debt this time? Flowers? Her house? Or… herself?” “The women Mr. Davies has played with must be quite something. If she’s selling herself, I’ll take her for a night!” The subsequent messages were a barrage of vulgarity and “+1s.” I’d been with Louis for three years, and I’d paid off his bankruptcy debts twice. The first time, I sold my grandmother’s house. Louis held me, promising to build a home with me. Yet, we lived in a cramped, four-hundred-dollar-a-month basement apartment for two years before he returned with another two-million-dollar IOU. I still didn’t blame him. Instead, I used the nest egg my mother had saved for me, patching up his financial hole. He knelt before me, saying that by accepting my pre-wedding gift, he was my husband, and he would love and cherish me forever. But his promises were lies, from beginning to end. Louis’s attention was also drawn by the incessant pings from his phone. He glanced at me, and seeing that I wasn’t watching him, he confidently opened his phone to scroll through the group chat. Soon, his brows furrowed, and his lips thinned into a line. He tapped a few times on the screen, and his message appeared on the tablet: “All of you, get lost! Just wait and watch the show!” Louis put his phone down. After a long silence, he wrapped his arms around me again, his voice thick with affection. “Cathy, I promise this is the last time. Once this debt is paid, I’ll marry you, okay?” I looked at the earnest expression on his face and suddenly found it incredibly laughable. How precious must I be, to have a wealthy young master go to such lengths to deceive me? Even going as far as to utter words like “marry you.” If at first, I’d wanted to lay everything bare and ask him if he found any of this amusing, Now, I didn’t even have the energy to question him. I calmly pushed him away. “But Louis, I’m out of money.” Louis froze, perhaps not expecting such a reaction from me. After all, in his mind, I should be desperate to find any means to pay off his debts. But quickly, his face twisted into anger. “Cathy, are you just like the others? Do you think I’m a failure? That I’ll never succeed?” “I knew it, I misjudged you!” With that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. I watched his retreating back, understanding that he was using this tactic to pressure me into submission. But I didn’t call out to him. Instead, I pulled out my phone and blocked all his contacts. Then I picked up the IOU. No borrower, no debtor’s fingerprint. It was an obvious fake, yet I’d foolishly fallen for it twice. I gave a self-deprecating laugh and dialed the agent. “Hello, please help me sublease the flower shop on Central Street!” The flower shop was opened to support Louis. Now that I was done with him, there was no need to keep it running. Anyway, I was leaving. 02 The next morning, I stayed home to pack. Looking around the small, dim rental, there was surprisingly little worth taking with me. Birthday cards tossed from a bakery, pretty stones picked up from the street, rings fashioned from crumpled paper… Louis had presented these as surprises. But each time I opened a ‘blind box,’ he looked just as surprised. Now, I realized these ‘gifts’ were probably just random items someone else had arranged for him, and he likely didn’t even know what was inside. The only somewhat decent gift was a necklace he’d bought for eighty dollars from a street vendor after his first successful venture. At the time, I thought he was wasting money and got quite upset with him. But Louis had just laughed, an amused look on his face. He said I was silly, wondering what would happen if he ever truly became wealthy and I still couldn’t bring myself to spend money. I thought he was being considerate then. Now, it seemed he truly thought I was an idiot. In our dense chat history, Louis had called me ‘silly’ a staggering 517 times. When I ran through three streets to buy him his favorite late-night snack, he’d say, “How can Cathy be so silly?” When he had a fever, and I draped my only raincoat over him, carrying him to the hospital on my back, he’d say, “She’s ridiculously silly.” Even when I lay in his arms, dreaming of a brighter future with him, he would still type in the group chat: “Cathy is hopelessly silly, so broke yet still fantasizing about a future with me…” Even in cold text, I could imagine the disdain and mockery in his tone as he wrote that. But it didn’t matter anymore. From now on, Louis Davies would have no place in Cathy Lord’s future. I continued packing, but in the end, my large suitcase remained empty. The trash can, however, was full. I surveyed the home I’d lived in for two years once more. The walls stained with watermarks, a chair with a broken leg, a bed made of bricks and planks… When things were a little better, I’d wanted to decorate this place properly. But Louis always refused. He said we wouldn’t live here once we had money, so decorating was pointless. I’d believed every one of his promises, then stayed in this dilapidated house, foolishly waiting for those promises to materialize. Thinking of all this, I suddenly felt a profound sense of futility. I closed my suitcase just as the agent called. “Miss Lord, I can’t finalize the flower shop sublease myself. You’ll need to speak with the landlord personally.” 03 At three in the afternoon, I arrived punctually at the appointed office building to meet the agent. Down the opulent hallway, through a slightly ajar door, I caught sight of Louis. He was dressed in a well-tailored suit, head bowed, fiddling with his phone. Beside him, a woman, elegantly dressed, leaned intimately against his shoulder. The moment I saw her, I recognized her. Two days ago, the flower shop received an order for nine hundred and ninety-nine roses. Because the customer specifically requested the thorns not be removed, I’d painstakingly wrapped every single one, my hands bleeding. When I personally took a cab to deliver them, the recipient was this woman: Tiffany Chase. At the heart of the bouquet was a small card, as requested by the customer: “To my lifelong love, Tiffany. From: L.D.” It was only then that I realized L.D. stood for Louis Davies. He knew perfectly well that I, desperate for money, wouldn’t turn down such a large order. So he deliberately made those demands, watching me scramble like a fool. The thought of it brought tears to my eyes, almost making me laugh. After returning home that day, I had even excitedly shared with Louis how much money I’d made. As he tenderly bandaged my wounds, was he, in his heart, calling me silly again? Viewing me as a joke? As I wiped away the tears, the agent arrived. Seeing me standing at the door, he asked, puzzled, “Miss Lord, the landlord is inside. Why don’t you go in?” My eyes, still tearful, widened in shock as I looked at the agent. “Who did you say? The landlord? Louis Davies?” The agent looked bewildered. “Yes, didn’t you know? The entire block on Central Street belongs to Mr. Davies.” 04 I gazed at Louis’s figure in the distance, and deeply buried painful memories surged. After helping Louis pay off his second debt, I went through a long period of financial hardship, unable even to afford rent. Four or five burly men crowded the flower shop entrance, demanding payment. They smashed all the flowers in the shop, Even stepping on my cat, letting it cry out in pain without easing their foot. The little cat had been with me for twelve years; to me, it wasn’t just a pet, but family, as important as Louis. I pleaded, in tears, on my knees, begging them to spare it. In the three years I’d run the shop, I’d faced countless demands for rent and protection fees. But I’d never mentioned any of it to Louis; I didn’t want to burden him. This time, however, I was truly terrified. I called him, sobbing so hard I could barely breathe. I asked him, “Louis, what do I do? Save Muffin, please save her…” Louis knew how much Muffin meant to me, yet after a long silence, he still said he was sorry. I watched, helpless, as those burly men crushed my cat to death. I held her, feeling her grow cold and stiff in my arms. It was the same powerlessness I felt when my mother died in my embrace. Yet even then, I never hated Louis. I only regretted my own helplessness. But now, the truth was laid bare before me: the landlord who demanded my rent was Louis. The one who could have saved Muffin with a single word was also Louis. But he didn’t save her, and Muffin died. I bit down hard on my teeth, barely suppressing a sob. I ran out of the office building, hailed a taxi, and told the driver to take me to the airport. In the car, my hands shaking, I called my father. After twenty-seven years, the only person I could rely on was the father I had once disavowed. “Dad, please, come pick me up now? Please…” … Meanwhile, Louis Davies, Tiffany Chase, and his friends emerged from the office. His head was bowed, his gaze fixed intently on our chat window. Two whole days, and I hadn’t sent him a single message. He felt a surge of irritation, pulled out a cigarette to light it, then put it back, remembering I disliked the smell of smoke on him. One of his good friends clapped him on the shoulder from behind, looking rather smugly at the dark screen. “What’s up, Louis? The little lady can’t pay this time? Not playing with you anymore?” A flicker of annoyance crossed Louis’s eyes as he pushed his friend’s arm away. “Who said that? Cathy loves me so much, she’s probably off somewhere right now scraping money together for me!” “Just you wait, after I give her a few days, she’ll cough up the money!” No sooner had the words left his mouth than the agent, who had overheard my name, came over. “Cathy Lord? Mr. Davies, you know Miss Lord? Perfect, she wants to sublease her flower shop, and I was worried you wouldn’t agree!” Louis frowned. He had a vague feeling that the unease accumulating in his heart these past few days was about to find an answer today. He tried to steady his emotions, feigning a casual tone. “The flower shop is doing so well, why would she sublease it?” The agent offered him a placating smile, completely unaware of the significance of his words. “Miss Lord said she’s tired of running the flower shop. She’s going home to get married.”

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1 When I was five months pregnant, Cole’s childhood sweetheart came to my house, provoked a fight, and set the place on fire. I did not call Cole. Instead, I covered my nose and mouth with a wet towel and waited silently for rescue. In my past life, the moment the fire started, I panicked and called him. I begged him to rush me to the hospital. He did. The baby survived, but Vanessa perished in the flames that very day. He told me he did not blame me. He told me to rest easy in the maternity ward, even taking a leave of absence to care for me. But on the day I gave birth, he showed his true face. He dragged me and my newborn to Vanessa’s grave. Right in front of my eyes, he ruthlessly took my baby’s life. Then, he pushed me into a blazing inferno. In my final moments, through the roaring flames, I saw his face twisted in demonic fury. “If you hadn’t started that fire, Vanessa would never have died! Did you really think playing the victim would fool me? Dream on! I am making you pay with your life!” “You like starting fires so much? Then feel it for yourself. Feel the exact pain Vanessa felt before she died!” My eyes snapped open. I was back in the burning house. Thick, acrid smoke poured into my nostrils, sending me into a violent coughing fit. The searing pain yanked me completely out of my past life’s memories. I immediately pulled out my phone. But I did not call my husband, the heroic fire captain. I dialed 911. By the time the sirens wailed and the rescue team stormed in, I spotted Cole’s familiar silhouette through the haze. Only after I watched him scoop Vanessa into his arms and carry her out of the living room did I finally let out a cry for help to the other firefighters. His crew thought I was throwing a tantrum. They glared at me through their visors, barking harsh reprimands. Suddenly, a heavy wooden wall ornament broke loose. It crashed down, slamming brutally into my pregnant belly. I coughed up a mouthful of blood right there on the floor. They did not even blink. Biting down on my lip to endure the excruciating pain, I used every ounce of strength I had to crawl out of the burning house. Outside, every single cooling blanket and oxygen tank was being used on Vanessa. Cole could not even be bothered to look my way. He just cursed at me, saying I brought this entirely on myself. Cold sweat drenched my trembling body. Blood spilled from the corners of my mouth. Deep inside, I could feel my baby’s life rapidly slipping away. In my past life, when the fire broke out, Vanessa and I had called him at the exact same time. For the sake of his unborn child, he chose to save me first. By the time he tried to go back inside, the flames had swallowed the structure. Vanessa was reduced to ashes. He had told me it was okay. He had comforted me, telling me not to blame myself. Yet, the moment I gave birth, he slaughtered my child. “Rachel, do you know what it feels like to burn alive?” his voice had echoed. “I am going to make you suffer ten times the agony Vanessa went through!” Given a second chance at life, I only wanted to stay as far away from him as possible. I never expected him to be this ruthless. He would not even spare me a single piece of first-aid equipment. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a dark pool of blood spreading beneath my legs. “Save my baby… please…” I begged, my vocal cords raw and torn. The closest firefighter finally turned around. But his eyes were filled with nothing but mockery and disgust. He nudged my leg with his heavy boot. “Give it a rest, Cap’s wife. We all know you hate Vanessa. We just didn’t think you were crazy enough to commit arson while pregnant. Cap is already saving her. You can stop the act. Nobody is watching.” “Honestly, I kinda respect how far you will go for a man’s attention. Too bad Cap only has eyes for Vanessa. You better pray she makes it out of this okay, or Cap is going to hand you divorce papers tomorrow!” I always knew Cole did not love me. But I had no idea even his crew viewed me this way. A violent, agonizing contraction ripped through my abdomen, stealing the last of my voice. The blistering heat had practically melted the skin off my arms. The crew was busy putting out the flames. Not a single soul came to check on me. As my consciousness began to fade, I heard a sudden gasp nearby. “Whoa! Why is there so much blood over here? Crap, is Cap’s wife actually hurt?” “What could possibly be wrong with her? She is just trying to get Cap to look at her. She has been pulling these stunts all afternoon. Whatever, go get Cap just in case.” But I never received a shred of Cole’s concern. All I got was his merciless interrogation. A gloved hand slapped my cheek twice, hard. “Rachel, wake up. Stop faking it. I am here.” “Are you completely out of your mind? You start a fire and end up burning yourself. Shooting yourself in the foot. Was it worth it?” Even now, he genuinely believed I started the fire. He thought I was throwing a jealous, hysterical fit. I wanted to explain. I wanted to scream. But my throat was bone dry. My stomach felt like it was being ripped apart from the inside. All I could do was reach out a trembling, bloodstained hand and grip his heavy turnout coat, praying he would finally realize I was dying. He hesitated for a split second. Then, he pressed his hand down heavily onto my cramping abdomen. “You put on a good show. If Vanessa hadn’t already told me you set the fire and hid yourself on purpose, I almost would have believed you.” Dropping those words like ice, he turned his back and walked away without a second glance. A heartbeat later, a terrified shout erupted from one of the rookies. “Captain! Blood! She is bleeding out!” “Is she having a miscarriage?!” Cole’s voice drifted back, cold and hollow. “Ignore her. Vanessa already told me. It is fake blood. She is five months along, she is not going to miscarry that easily. Let her act.” A final, blinding wave of agony washed over me. Everything went pitch black. 2 In my feverish dreams, I was pulled back to the days when Cole and I first met. It was a college seminar. He sat there with an ice-cold expression, but his flawless technical skills and sharp mind captured the hearts of half the girls in the room. I was no exception. It was love at first sight. I started asking around, desperate for any information about him. Back then, I was just a junior lecturer. He barely noticed me. To catch his eye, I worked harder than anyone else. After I finally secured my full-time position, I used the excuse of a celebration to invite him to dinner. I noticed a subtle shift in the way he looked at me that night. I seized the opportunity and chased him relentlessly. Flowers, basketball tickets, baked goods, artisan coffee. I gave him everything I had. Finally, I got what I wanted. He accepted my confession. I thought it was the beginning of my happily ever after. I had no idea it was the prologue to a nightmare. After we got together, he grew colder and more distant. Every time we had a date, he was either swamped with work or called away on a sudden emergency dispatch. I never doubted him. Not once. Until the day of our wedding. An email from overseas completely shattered my fragile dream. Vanessa had documented their ten-year entanglement in agonizing detail. Every timestamp, every photo, every shared memory felt like a blade twisting in my heart. It turned out that every single time he broke a promise to me, he was spending his hours with another woman. The most pathetic part? I didn’t even have the courage to confront him. I was terrified he would leave me. In my past life, when Vanessa died in the fire, he was so remarkably calm that I genuinely believed I had won. I thought I was the victor in this twisted love triangle. He practically bought out every maternity store in the city for our baby. That sudden, overwhelming tsunami of love fried my brain. I completely lost my ability to think critically. It was only when my child was slaughtered by his hands that the truth finally dawned on me. He was not loving me with his life. He was meticulously planning my destruction. The only woman he ever loved was Vanessa. When I finally opened my eyes again, I was staring at the sterile white ceiling of a hospital room. The face hovering over me did not belong to Cole. It was a complete stranger. “You are awake? I am your downstairs neighbor. I was coming up to see how bad the fire was, and I found you lying on the grass all by yourself. I brought you here. How are you feeling?” I tried to move my stiff, aching limbs. The moment my hands brushed my stomach, I froze. The neighbor looked at me with deep pity. “I am so sorry. When we got here, the doctors said… they said they could not save the baby.” I forced a weak, bitter smile onto my cracked lips. “It is not your fault. I know.” “Thank you for bringing me here.” Even a total stranger could tell at a glance that I was dying. Yet the man I had been married to for five years could not be bothered to look at me. Seeing my numb despair, the neighbor grew more furious than I was. “What the hell is wrong with that rescue squad? A pregnant woman is bleeding out on the ground, and they just ignore her?” “If I hadn’t come up to check, you would be dead right now! Where is your family? Where is the father?” “Give me his number. I will call him right now. You need someone by your side.” “I already reported that firehouse to the city! People like that are a menace to society!” I nodded slowly, my voice barely a raspy whisper. “The baby’s father is dead.” His face softened with profound sympathy. He offered to stay and take care of me until I was discharged. I politely declined. I transferred the money for the hospital bills to his phone and urged him to go home. The neighbor left, but the storm on the internet was just beginning to brew. The hashtag “Fire Captain’s Backyard on Fire” was inherently sensational. It was already trending at the top of every major social media platform. My neighbor had posted photos of me collapsed in a pool of blood in the comment sections. It sparked a massive public outcry. People were furious, questioning if the fire department only cared about putting out flames while turning a blind eye to a dying pregnant woman. “If that is the case, they should just be called property savers, not a rescue squad,” one top comment read. I scrolled through the endless wave of outrage. Honestly, this kind of punishment felt far too light for Cole. I opened my messaging app, planning to send him a text asking for a divorce. Before I could type a word, a photo from Vanessa popped up on my screen. She was admitted to the exact same hospital, just one floor below me. In the photo, Cole was personally feeding her a bowl of soup, carefully blowing on the spoon so she wouldn’t burn her tongue. I had seen countless photos of their intimacy. Pictures like this no longer had the power to hurt me. I calmly closed the chat and dialed Cole’s number. He finally picked up on the fifth try. His voice was laced with absolute irritation. “You actually have the nerve to call me? What do you want? Checking to see if Vanessa is dead? Well, sorry to disappoint you! I pulled her out! She is alive and recovering right here in the hospital!” “Rachel, I have known you for years, but I never thought you were capable of this. Do you realize what you did? That is attempted murder! Are you completely insane?” “I am giving you exactly one hour. Crawl down to this room and apologize to her! Otherwise, we are getting a divorce!” Before I could speak, Vanessa’s soft, weeping voice echoed through the speaker. “Cole, don’t be mad at her. It is my fault. If she wants to say I started the fire, just let her. Don’t argue with her. Pregnant women shouldn’t get too stressed.” Cole let out a heavy sigh, his tone dripping with disappointment. “You are just too kind. That is why she constantly walks all over you. We met first. Who the hell does Rachel think she is? What gives her the right to touch you?” “Don’t worry about it. I am making sure she learns her lesson this time!” While they were busy playing star-crossed lovers, I spoke, my voice devoid of any emotion. “Okay. Let’s get a divorce. I agree. I will send the papers over shortly. Make sure you sign them.” Cole was clearly caught off guard. He never expected me to initiate the divorce. A moment of stunned silence was followed by a sudden burst of rage. Before he could start screaming, I hung up. Before I could block his number, a barrage of text messages flooded my screen. “Where are you? Have you lost your damn mind today? I let your behavior slide because you are pregnant, and now you are pushing your luck?” “You think having a baby means I won’t drop you? I swear, when you go into labor and need a signature for the epidural, you will be crawling off that bed to beg me!” “And take down those news posts online right now! Do not force me to expose your true colors to the public!” I didn’t bother reading the rest. I deleted the thread and blocked his number. Even though I had paid for this lesson with blood in my past life, being betrayed by him again still caused a brief, involuntary twinge of pain in my chest. A pair of nurses walked in to change my bandages. Oblivious to my expression, they gossiped freely. “That guy downstairs is incredibly handsome. I have never seen a couple look so perfect together! I heard they were high school sweethearts. I am so jealous.” “You are behind on the news. I just heard that Mr. Sullivan actually paid the hospital cafeteria to reserve a private kitchen window. Just so he can personally cook for his precious wife every day!” “I went down to change her dressings earlier, and he wouldn’t even let me touch her. He insisted on doing it himself. True love is just beautiful!” I stared blankly at the IV needle in the back of my hand. The skin on my arm had peeled off, stinging and itching fiercely. When the nurses finally left, I gasped for air like a drowning woman. But no matter how hard I breathed, the oxygen refused to fill my lungs. That evening, the doctor came in. He told me the blunt trauma to my abdomen had caused severe internal damage. It would be nearly impossible for me to ever conceive again. Hearing those words, my very first thought was sheer relief. Thank God. Without a child, he or she would never have to suffer alongside me. An innocent life deserved a better world than this. When the room was empty again, I checked the latest updates online. The cyberbullying against the fire department had escalated to the point where the city officials had to step in and make a public statement. However, the official explanation claimed the entire incident was staged by me. They claimed I was driven by insane jealousy and intentionally caused harm. Not only did I waste precious city rescue resources, but I also dragged their decorated captain through the mud. In the press conference video, the official urged the public to drop the matter, but every single word deliberately painted me as the villain. To lend credibility to the video, Cole registered a verified account and posted a photo of our marriage certificate. His actions hammered the final nail into my coffin. The tidal wave of hatred instantly pivoted from the fire department and crashed down on me. My personal social media accounts were breached, flooded with death threats, and eventually banned by the platforms. Any attempts I made to post the truth were instantly buried under an avalanche of vicious comments. Over the next few days, I could feel the hostile glares of the hospital staff. If it weren’t for their basic professional ethics, I am certain they would have thrown me out onto the street. I received anonymous packages every day. Without fail, they were all death threats. Through it all, I didn’t say a single word in my defense. On the day the doctor cleared me for discharge, I sent Cole one final text. “Meet me at City Hall tomorrow. We are signing the papers.” He jumped on the opportunity to call me from a different number. “What, finally coming out of hiding? You actually have the nerve to show your face? I warned you. I gave you a chance. You refused to take down the posts. Don’t blame me for being ruthless now!” “If Vanessa hadn’t begged me to go easy on you, I would have had the cops arrest you by now! Fine, let’s divorce. When that kid grows up without a father, don’t come crying to me! It is your own fault you are turning him into a fatherless bastard!” Before I could reply, he hung up on me. I calmly opened the smart home app on my phone and downloaded the hidden camera footage from the living room on the day of the fire.

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1 My brother and I each had a twin wife. Our father had meticulously raised them to be ideal helpmates. The younger sister, Jasmine, was vivacious and charming, falling for my brother, James, at first sight. That left her elder sister, Lily, who was born with a disability, to me. I understood clearly that choosing Lily meant bowing out of the competition for our family’s inheritance. After all, a scion of a powerful family couldn’t possibly have a disabled wife. Yet, pity for her plight swayed me, and I agreed. My father, furious at my lack of ambition, banished me to a deserted island. I protected Lily there, and we endured three months. When we returned, she was completely unblemished, while I had three broken ribs and walked with a permanent limp. I considered her my wife and never held it against her. But then came the warehouse explosion. In that moment, Lily darted out of her wheelchair, practically flying. She said, “I’m sorry, James needs me.” James was my older brother. I tripped over a chair and fell, but she didn’t look back. “I’m sorry, but he’s the one I love.” Later, she saved her beloved. And I died in that inferno. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day we chose our wives. … I stared at the familiar scene, frozen and silent. Then, my brother, James, suddenly spoke. “Let Lily come with me. My younger brother has a severe stutter; he should choose someone more articulate to be by his side.” He extended his hand to Lily. But Jasmine, the younger sister, had already fallen head over heels for him, her delicate face tear-filled as she gazed at my brother. James had uttered the exact same words he had in my previous life. Last time, I believed he genuinely cared for my well-being. I also understood that Father had trained these sisters to help us manage the family business. Lily could only stand with crutches. How could the wife of a Thorne family heir be disabled? Seeing my brother willing to forgo his position for me, I was deeply touched and quickly refused, adamantly unwilling to let Jasmine go with me. But then came the explosion, and both women rushed towards James. James, in his feigned concern, insisted he wouldn’t leave without me. Yet he obediently allowed them to lead him safely away from the warehouse. Jasmine had already brought him to the entrance, but he feigned unconsciousness, prompting Lily to abandon all caution, stand from her wheelchair, and save him. From then on, he not only solidified his position as the heir… but also had two stunning women by his side. This time, I didn’t refuse his offer to swap wives. “Lis… listen to my… brother,” I stammered, mimicking my past speech impediment, my face earnest. James instinctively recoiled his outstretched hand, a hint of awkwardness on his face. Lily, too, looked at me in surprise. Just then, Mother descended from the second floor. “Sawyer, dear, the older sister is better at looking after people. Jasmine’s lively personality isn’t suited for you.” I looked at Lily, leaning on her crutches. Better at looking after people? Mother truly found any excuse to support my elder brother. “Besides, your elder brother is going to study abroad soon, and Jasmine’s grades are better; she can accompany him…” Lily, who had been standing quietly in the corner, suddenly took two steps forward. “Madam, I already received my acceptance letter last month.” With that, she actually produced the acceptance letter from my brother’s university. Lily spoke sincerely. “Madam, please don’t worry about my leg. I’ve already contacted a doctor, and I can have electronic neurons implanted in my calf. With consistent stimulation, I can walk normally.” Seeing Lily’s calm demeanor, I instantly understood. She had been reborn too. Since she had a second chance at life, it was only natural for her to fight for herself. I gave a self-deprecating smile. I laughed at my past self, who, to protect her pride, had shunned all formal gatherings. During those three months on the deserted island, I had repeatedly put myself in harm’s way for her. I had led wolf packs away from her. When she fell into a ravine, I had painstakingly carried her back up, step by arduous step. The slippery, sharp rocks had carved countless wounds into my body, yet she remained safe and sound on my back. And now, she was once again firmly choosing James. Mother’s face showed a flicker of admiration. “Are you truly willing to undergo electronic neuron implantation just to stand by James’s side? That’s more painful than walking on razor blades.” “I am willing.” James’s gaze toward Lily also held a fervent heat. While Jasmine was undeniably captivating, what could be more alluring than an excellent wife willing to sacrifice so much for him? “In that case, Jasmine will follow Sawyer from now on.” The moment the words left her mouth, tears instantly streamed from Jasmine’s eyes. “Madam, Jasmine isn’t worthy of the second young master.” Mother’s face turned cold. How could she not see what Jasmine was plotting? She remained silent, seemingly pondering something. Jasmine suddenly knelt before Mother. “Madam, Jasmine is willing to stay in the old estate as a housekeeper.” Mother finally lowered her gaze to her. “You’d rather be a housekeeper than the second young madam?” “Yes.” These sisters, both of them were quite decisive. James spoke, seemingly unintentionally. “Jasmine, are you perhaps looking down on my brother’s stutter?” Jasmine quickly glanced at him, her tone tinged with girlish indignation. “First young master, don’t you know why I’m doing this?!” As she spoke, her tears flowed even more profusely. James showed a pained expression. “But being a housekeeper would be too much of a sacrifice for you. How can that be?” I watched the absurd scene in silence. “If you… truly… care for… Jasmine, why not… let her… be your… assistant?” I stammered out the sentence. James patiently listened to me finish, his gaze at Jasmine holding a hint of greed. Both women, in terms of looks, figure, and intellect, were exceptional. “This… wouldn’t be appropriate.” Mother turned to look at me. “You should know they were both raised to assist you. Are you truly choosing neither?” Mother was testing me. I gave a light laugh. “Neither.” Mother raised an eyebrow. “Don’t be impulsive. I fear you’ll regret it.” “No regrets.” This time my answer was too quick, and everyone in the room looked at me simultaneously. Especially Lily. From the moment I spoke, her gaze hadn’t left me. Her brows were tightly furrowed, as if she was trying to understand why I had changed so much. Mother spoke again. “Then will you have a suitable translator by your side when you go abroad?” I slowly shook my head. “Not going abroad. Going to the company.” Last time, I believed my parents’ affection, and that my brother and I would always be close. I thought the inheritance rightfully belonged to my brother. So, I immersed myself in my own little world, making Lily the center of my life. Even when Grandfather urged me repeatedly to join the company, I refused. Eventually, I made Grandfather fall ill with frustration. This time, I wouldn’t make that mistake. Grandfather, though old, was still the de facto controller of the group. My parents had no business acumen, which was why they had invested heavily in training the twin sisters. They feared we would inherit their own lack of business sense. In my previous life, after Grandfather’s death, James took control of the Thorne family. Eventually, even my living expenses and Lily’s required James’s signature before his secretary would transfer them to me. Though equally a Thorne, I was treated like a beggar. This time, I would reclaim everything that was mine. When I approached Grandfather and explained my intentions, he patted my shoulder, visibly excited. “You rascal, I always had high hopes for you since you were a boy. Who knew such things would happen later…” “Never mind, let’s not talk about it. From now on, work hard with your grandfather.” “Yes.” Grandfather suggested I start as a manager, but I refused. I chose an entry-level position, starting from the ground up. James was preparing for his trip abroad, and the house was filled with joy. Meanwhile, I secured my first project, advancing from a regular employee to a team leader. Grandfather was overjoyed, praising me to everyone he met. One day, as I was leaving work, James blocked my path at the entrance. “Little brother, you’ve been on a roll lately, haven’t you?” “Now everyone’s saying you can inherit the family business on your own merits. You didn’t want the twin sisters because you’d already planned to cozy up to Grandfather, hadn’t you? When did you become so cunning?” “Tell me, as a Thorne child, who do you think Grandfather would prefer: you, a stuttering college graduate, or me, who’s returned from advanced studies abroad?” I never expected James to use my stutter to provoke me. I lowered my gaze, not wanting to talk to him. Unexpectedly, he shifted, blocking my way. “Little brother, since your stutter is so severe, you should just stay home and recover properly. Why go out and embarrass the Thorne family?” I met his gaze directly. “Why do I stutter, brother? Have you forgotten?” He flinched, looking at me in shock. When I was little, Grandfather often kept me by his side, saying I was the Thorne family’s future hope. Back then, my parents were very kind to me. But one day, James tricked me into a small wooden cabin in the backyard garden. He said he was going to the restroom and told me to wait for him. Instead, he locked me inside. I was trapped from that afternoon until the evening of the next day. Police dogs finally found me. When the door opened, Father’s expression showed a hint of disgust. After that night, I was so terrified I lost control of my bladder and bowels, cried all night, and couldn’t utter a sound. For several years afterward, I couldn’t speak a single word. James, however, claimed I had wandered off playing. Later, Grandfather found many doctors for me, allowing me to speak again, but leaving me with a stutter. James clearly remembered his past actions. His face instantly paled, and he stammered. “Wasn’t that because you were playing around and got lost? All these years, you still blame me for not finding you sooner, right?” “But I was just a child then too; I was scared. You can’t blame everything on me.” Seeing his pale face, Lily’s brows furrowed in concern. “Second Young Master, whatever happened when you were children is in the past. One shouldn’t harbor resentment.” At this point, James suddenly grasped her hand. “It’s alright. I’m the older brother; it’s my place to concede to my younger brother.” “If you’re fighting for the inheritance because of what happened back then, I’ll just give it to you.” Just then, Father returned. “What nonsense are you talking about?!” “What are you two discussing?” James, afraid I would reveal what happened back then, quickly said. “Little brother is still blaming me for what happened back then, Dad. I don’t want our family to be divided, so why not let little brother—” Father interrupted James. “Sawyer, are you still blaming your brother, even resorting to underhanded tactics to fight for power behind his back?” I was so furious I couldn’t even keep up the stutter. “It was clearly—” “Actually, it was the Second Young Master who started the trouble. He’s always held a grudge about what happened back then.” I looked at Lily. After two lifetimes of knowing her, she should have understood me best. But I never expected her to lie to Father to protect James. Smack! I slapped Lily across the face, my palm stinging red. Lily stared at me in shock. “That’s your sister-in-law! You’re completely out of control now!” “Take the young master back to his room to reflect. He’ll be let out when he understands.” I trembled, looking at Father. Ever since that incident in my childhood, I couldn’t be confined alone in a room. It would trigger my panic. But the servant grabbed my shoulder, dragging me upstairs. As I passed James, I clearly saw a mocking smile on his face. Lily, meanwhile, avoided my gaze. That night, James brought Lily to my room. As soon as he entered, he turned off all the lights. My body reacted to the fear before my mind did. That night in my childhood had deeply affected me. My voice trembled uncontrollably. “Turn on the lights.” “Heh, is the big strong man afraid of the dark?” “You were quite bold downstairs just now, weren’t you?” I instinctively reached for the bedside lamp. Lily was quicker, sweeping the lamp to the floor. She kicked it under the bed, then took my phone, which was providing some light, and drew the curtains. The suffocating feeling instantly enveloped me. I tried hard to speak, but no sound escaped. I knew, I was having an episode again. I fumbled in the dark for the bedside table, searching for my medication. But the next second, James snatched the pill bottle away. “Want your pills, do you? Big brother will feed you.” With that, he emptied the pills onto the floor. I stumbled onto the floor, instinctively fumbling for them. But James stepped on my hand. “You can have your medicine, but first, give me the project you just secured.” I struggled to breathe, unable to speak, so I just patted his foot that was pressing on me. He shone his flashlight on my face. “You agree?” I nodded. Throughout this, Lily watched me with furrowed brows. Finally, when I agreed, she said, “You shouldn’t compete with him. These things rightfully belong to him.” I didn’t say a word. This project was one I had seen through from beginning to end. I also wanted to see if James could handle this unexpected windfall. James took over my project, and I moved out of the Thorne family mansion into my own small apartment. I began actively seeing a therapist. Such things would never happen a second time. Sure enough, a month later, the project imploded. The manager, furious that James had ruined his life’s work, took James hostage. He livestreamed on the dark web, threatening a murder-suicide. I scoffed. James had brought this upon himself. But I hadn’t expected Lily to be waiting at my apartment door. “That project was negotiated by you; you’re the principal in charge.” “Only you can save him.” She bluntly stated her purpose, and bodyguards hidden in the shadows swarmed me. I was bound and pushed into a car. My mind raced. Lily, beside me, said leisurely. “You’re back too, aren’t you?” I stared at her, my eyes icy cold. “After this is over, you go abroad. I can guarantee you a life of wealth.” I scoffed. “And what about what you owe me?” “If you can save James today, I’ll be at your disposal from now on.” Soon, we arrived at the warehouse. Finally, both sides reached an agreement: the company would cover all losses, reinstate the manager, and the project would continue. When the manager demanded a hostage, Lily pushed me out without hesitation. “I swear, this is the last time. I’ll settle everything and come back for you.” I sneered inwardly. I no longer believed her. Yet, her resolute betrayal still stung. “Lily, does anything I go through mean nothing to you?” She avoided my gaze. “I’m your sister-in-law.” I couldn’t help but laugh aloud. She took two steps away, then turned to look at me. “I will definitely come back. If anything happens to you, I’ll just pay with my life.” I didn’t look at her. The manager locked me in a sealed room. There were no windows; the only light source was the phone livestreaming. He dragged my nearly broken self in front of the camera. “It’s been a day already! Why hasn’t the company made any moves?!” “Do you think anyone is watching the livestream? If I torture you a bit, will they speed things up?” With that, he faced the camera and began pulling out my fingernails. In the dimly lit room, blood slowly seeped out. My screams, once high, dwindled to nothing. I was in too much pain to make a sound. A familiar ID suddenly popped up a line of text in the comments. [Hands $10,000, legs $30,000, other body parts negotiable.] [You just want money. No one will ransom him. You might as well trade him for some cash.] I fell into despair. In less than three days, I was tortured beyond recognition. On the third day, while the manager was out buying more tools to torment me, I tried to call the police on the livestream phone, only to find there was no SIM card. I had no choice but to return to the livestream. I pleaded with the screen again and again. “Lily, I know you’re watching. Save me.” “Please… for all the times I saved you, save me just once.” “You said you would definitely come back.” “Lily…” My voice grew hoarse. Finally, I saw Lily’s reply in the public chat. [He won’t take your life now. James will be inaugurated as CEO tomorrow. Just get through tomorrow, and I’ll come get you.] Inaugurated tomorrow… “Grandfather? Lily, what have you done to Grandfather?” [Grandfather is old.] After that, no matter how much I called her, she didn’t say another word. Just then, the manager returned. He kicked me in the head. “Damn it, trying to outsmart me.” A rain of blows landed on my body. The comments section cheered, but Lily remained silent. The next second, the manager ended the livestream. I lay on the ground, recalling Lily’s attitude. All my emotions transformed into pure hatred. The manager quickly helped me up. “Are you alright, sir?” The lights in the room were off; everything was pre-arranged for the right angles. Naturally, I was fine. I shook my head. I opened the door, looking at the warehouse. I wondered if Lily recognized it—the very warehouse where I had died in my previous life. It was also the stage I had chosen for this grand play. “Proceed as planned.” “After this, go to Europe. Don’t come back.” I pushed open the warehouse door. Behind me, with a thunderous roar, flames shot into the sky. From then on, the Thorne family’s second young master died in a fire. All debts, I would collect them, step by step.

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On Valentine’s Day, I took the afternoon off and spent hours in the kitchen. I prepared a lavish spread of Scarlett’s favorite dishes. While I was waiting for her to get off work, a thick envelope arrived in the mail. Tearing it open, I found a stack of letters my deeply beloved wife had mailed abroad over the past few years. They had been returned to sender due to an invalid address. Every single one was a love letter addressed to her high school sweetheart. The words were drenched in devotion, overflowing with endless, suffocating longing. My heart, which had been warm and full of anticipation just moments before, plummeted into a bath of ice. I was still trembling with suppressed anger when Scarlett walked through the door. Her face was flushed with frantic excitement. “Guess what, honey?” she beamed. “Tristan is coming back. His flight lands at one thirty in the morning. Let’s go pick him up together, okay?” Looking at my wife’s face, a face so familiar yet suddenly acting like a total stranger, the violent storm in my chest inexplicably died down. A strange, hollow calm took its place. “Let’s eat first,” I said quietly. “You go ahead. I need to run to the salon for a blowout and get my nails done. I haven’t seen Tristan in years. I absolutely refuse to give him a bad impression.” She had been home for less than a minute, yet she was already slipping her heels back on. “His flight isn’t until past midnight. What is the rush?” I tried to reason with her. “Dinner is getting cold. Look at all the food I made. Just have a few bites.” “Fine.” Scarlett finally sat down. But as she faced the extravagant meal, her mind was clearly miles away. She chewed her food like it was cardboard. Uncontrollable joy kept flashing in her eyes. I had never seen her look this radiant, not even during the peak of our honeymoon phase. Feigning casual curiosity, I asked, “How long is Tristan staying?” “I have no idea. You know how secretive he is. He loves keeping me in the dark to surprise me.” She paused, her eyes shifting nervously. “Honey, his flight gets in so late. Finding a decent hotel at that hour will be a nightmare. Why don’t we just let him stay in our guest room?” “Whatever makes you happy,” I replied. Hearing my approval, Scarlett instantly lost her nonexistent appetite. She pushed her plate away and hurried down the hall to prepare the guest room. I sat alone at the dining table, silently shoveling rice into my mouth. It was the most tasteless Valentine’s Day of my life. Just like the elaborate dinner I had spent hours preparing. To my wife, it meant absolutely nothing. By the time Scarlett finished making the bed, I had already washed the dishes. “My boss just texted,” I lied smoothly. “There is an emergency at the firm. I have to go in and work late.” Scarlett frowned in annoyance. “What kind of garbage company makes you work late on Valentine’s Day?” I let out a cold, silent laugh in my head. So, she did remember it was Valentine’s Day. “Well, make it quick. I will be waiting for you,” she said dismissively. I walked out the door, bought a pack of cigarettes at the corner store, and found a dark, empty spot near the dumpsters. I crouched there in the cold, lighting up. Back in high school, Scarlett, Tristan, and I were all in the same graduating class. Scarlett was the prom queen, the girl everyone stared at in the hallways. She was also my lab partner. But throughout those four years, she spoke fewer than ten sentences to me. Whenever I was sweating it out on the basketball court, I would look over and see Scarlett and Tristan walking hand in hand under the oak trees. I was consumed by sheer, unadulterated envy. I thought Tristan was the luckiest guy on the planet. The only time I ever got close to her was during class or when the academic rankings were posted on the bulletin board. Her flawless profile haunted my dreams for years. When the final exam scores came out, Scarlett and I ranked at the top of our class. We ended up getting accepted into the same prestigious university. Tristan, however, barely scraped by with his grades. Thanks to his family’s deep pockets, he was shipped off to study in Europe. That was how the two of them lost contact. During our college freshman talent show, Scarlett walked out on stage in a flowing white dress and sat down at the grand piano. She looked like an angel stepping straight out of a painting. She stole the hearts of half the freshman class that night, but she also gave me the liquid courage to finally confess my feelings. To my absolute shock, she said yes. After graduation, we stayed in the city. We built careers. We got married. It had been exactly five years. I changed everything about myself for her. I used to be a guy who couldn’t even boil water. Now, I was a master at grocery shopping, laundry, scrubbing floors, and cooking gourmet meals. I used to be a chain smoker, easily killing two packs a day. The moment she said she hated the smell, I quit cold turkey. I used to game online every weekend with my buddies. When she complained it was taking up too much of my time, I cut ties with all of them. In this marriage, I was not just a husband. I was a butler and a live-in maid. I handed over almost my entire paycheck to her every single month. I loved her. I cherished her. I poured my entire soul into treating her right. I was her shoulder to cry on, her partner in laughter, her anchor when she threw tantrums. I coaxed her to take her medicine when she was sick. I wiped her tears. I sang her to sleep on restless nights. Yet all that devotion had bought me nothing but a beautiful, fragile illusion. From the very beginning, Scarlett’s heart had always belonged to another man. The airport terminal was freezing and dead silent in the middle of the night. The air conditioning was blasting, but the chill in my chest was far colder. It froze me right down to the marrow. Scarlett stood beside me, dressed to the nines. She looked breathtakingly gorgeous, turning the heads of the few exhausted travelers walking by. When Tristan walked through the arrivals gate and spotted her, his eyes lit up like fireworks. He strode over, bypassing me entirely, and pulled her into a crushing embrace before either of them said a word. I stood right next to them, her actual husband, completely invisible. Scarlett seemed to remember I was there. She raised her hands to push him away, but her push was pathetic. It held zero resistance. The two of them held that embrace for ten full seconds right in front of my face. It was as if they were physically draining years of painful longing from each other’s bodies. Tristan pulled back just enough to look at her, his face glowing with pure ecstasy. “I finally get to see you again. Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” Before she could answer, he dipped his head to kiss her. At the very last millisecond, right before their lips brushed, Scarlett panicked and pushed him back. “Tristan, don’t.” Her eyes were wide, practically begging him to stop. Only then did Tristan seem to notice I existed. A deeply arrogant, knowing smirk crept onto his face. “My bad, Oliver. I haven’t seen her in so long, I just couldn’t help myself.” “We go way back. You don’t mind, do you?” Every word dripping from his mouth was laced with blatant disrespect. It was a clear declaration of ownership. Scarlett looked at me, her eyes swirling with complex emotions. I kept my expression entirely blank. “I don’t mind at all. A long-awaited reunion. It is a perfectly natural reaction.” Scarlett froze. Her gaze grew even more conflicted. She had clearly expected me to lose my temper, to throw a jealous fit, to scream and shout. She never expected this dead calm. I reacted as if the woman in his arms was a total stranger, not my wife. Despite her confusion, she let out a quiet breath of relief. They had just reunited, and she clearly didn’t want Tristan and me getting into a public fistfight. On the drive back, Scarlett did not sit in the passenger seat next to me. She climbed into the back with Tristan. I became their personal chauffeur. I watched them in the rearview mirror in absolute silence. Neither of them wore seatbelts. They leaned in close, their shoulders touching, completely absorbed in each other. Just like they used to sit on the concrete bleachers by the high school football field. Inseparable. Tristan told stories about his wild adventures in Europe, and Scarlett hung onto his every word. She kept bursting into bright, musical laughter. Her beautiful eyes were overflowing with pure, unadulterated joy. It felt like someone was dragging a serrated blade across my heart. I drove like a programmed machine, my hands numb on the steering wheel. The two a.m. sky was an endless, suffocating black void. As we pulled into our neighborhood, Scarlett finally asked the question. “How long are you staying this time, Tristan?” “Depends.” Tristan glanced up at the rearview mirror, making direct eye contact with me before turning his gaze intimately back to Scarlett. “Maybe three days. Maybe two weeks.” “Or maybe the rest of my life.” I watched Scarlett’s shoulders physically tremble. She lowered her eyes, blushing, entirely unable to hold his gaze. Before the tension could settle, I slammed on the brakes and announced we were home. That night, Scarlett lay next to me in bed, tossing and turning for hours. I knew exactly why. Her body was here, but her heart had already moved into the guest room. Scarlett took the rest of the week off to play tour guide for Tristan. I casually asked if she wanted me to tag along. She rejected the idea without a second thought. She said Tristan only needed her. Every single day, Tristan updated his social media with a barrage of photos. The comments section was flooded by our old high school classmates. “The Prom King and Queen. You guys still look like movie stars.” “I always thought you two were the perfect couple. So jealous.” “True love always finds a way. Congrats on getting back together.” The kicker? Most of these people had attended my wedding and drank my champagne. Back in high school, I was a nobody. Tristan was the Student Body President and a star varsity athlete. He was rich, generous, and naturally charismatic. When he dated Scarlett, everyone accepted it as the natural order of the universe. Even the teachers thought they belonged together. None of them ever expected a guy like me to put a ring on her finger. To them, I was just a toad who somehow managed to trick a swan into marrying him. Reading those lively comments, I felt an unprecedented wave of peace. I systematically liked every single one of them, put my phone face down, and got back to work. Right before clocking out, a text from Scarlett popped up. “Honey, today is Tristan’s birthday.” “I booked a private room at the Grand Hotel. Just come straight here after work.” “Oh, and swing by the bakery to pick up his cake for me.” I texted back a simple okay. As I was packing up my briefcase, my phone rang. It was Professor Bennett, my old college mentor. “Oliver, have you thought about my offer?” he asked, his voice crackling with excitement. “You were always the brightest student I ever had. This new research project just got federal funding. It is massive, and I need your brain on my team. Talk to your wife, make the jump, and come work with me.” “Give me a year… no, eight months. We will change the industry.” The Professor had pitched this project to me a year ago. I kept turning him down because I couldn’t bear to neglect Scarlett. When I graduated, he practically begged me to stay in academia, promising me a clear path to a tenured professorship at an Ivy League university within ten years. But my entire universe revolved around my wife, so I respectfully declined his brilliant future. Now, the fire was completely dead. Scarlett was no longer my sky, my everything. “I am in,” I told him. Professor Bennett was ecstatic. He asked how soon I could start. “I need to put in my notice and hand over my current files. Give me a week.” “Done. I will be waiting.” After work, I stopped at the bakery. I gave the cashier Scarlett’s phone number, and she carefully pulled a box out of the display fridge. It was a heart-shaped cake, incredibly elegant and refined. I asked the girl if the design had a specific name. She smiled politely. “Yes, sir. It is our newest signature collection. It is called ‘The One That Got Away’.” I gave her a tight, polite smile. The message Scarlett was trying to send was loud and clear. When I walked into the hotel’s private dining room, the place was packed. Since everyone had scattered across the country after graduation, reunions were rare. But Tristan’s birthday was apparently a royal summons. “Look at you, Mr. President. Aging like fine wine.” “Scarlett looks incredible too. Not a day older than eighteen.” “God, looking at you two makes me feel like an old hag.” “Such a tragedy he had to go abroad. What a waste of a perfect match.” The room was buzzing with laughter. But the second I pushed the door open, the volume instantly dropped by half. Tristan was the first to break the awkward silence, flashing his signature winning smile. “Oliver. Glad you could make it, buddy.” Taking his lead, the others offered stiff, polite greetings. “Hey, Oliver. Long time no see.” “We were wondering when you would show up.” “Still working at that same boring corporate gig?” I nodded and gave generic answers, sliding into an empty chair in the far corner. There was no seat saved for me next to Scarlett anyway. The lively atmosphere quickly picked back up. But I was entirely excluded from it. Just like in high school, I was the quiet outcast sitting in the shadows. Tristan held court, laughing and dominating the conversation, effortlessly flaunting his wealth and worldly experiences. Everyone looked at him with admiration, envy, and pure worship. Looking back, I probably used to look at him the exact same way. Scarlett’s eyes were glued to Tristan. The only time she looked at me was a brief, passing glance when I first sat down. The noise and the suffocating fake cheer made my skin crawl. I pulled out my phone and started texting Professor Bennett about the new research parameters. The old man was so thrilled I was engaging that he immediately assigned his lead assistant to get me up to speed. Suddenly, someone tapped my shoulder. “Put the phone away, Oliver. It is time to sing.” I looked up. The heart-shaped cake I had carried across town was sitting in the center of the table, candles already lit. The lights flicked off. The singing started. Every face in the room glowed with warm, genuine smiles. But my throat felt like it was stuffed with dry cotton. I couldn’t make a sound. Because through the entire song, Tristan’s left hand was resting intimately on the small of my wife’s back. When the song ended, Tristan closed his eyes and made a wish. Scarlett watched his face, her eyes practically sparkling with anticipation. After he opened his eyes, the crowd started cheering, demanding they blow out the candles together. Tristan chuckled and agreed. Scarlett instinctively shot a nervous glance my way. I sat perfectly still, my face devoid of all emotion. Seeing my silence, she leaned in until her cheek was practically pressed against Tristan’s, and they blew out the flames together. Then, they grabbed the knife and cut the cake, hands overlapping. I had hit my absolute limit. I stood up, muttered a flat apology, and said I had an urgent errand to run. The table reacted exactly as I expected. “Come on, Oliver. You just got here. At least have a slice.” “Yeah, walking out before cake is just disrespectful to the birthday boy.” “Don’t run off. We booked a VIP room at a club for the afterparty. Nobody goes home sober tonight.” “We are all old friends. Don’t be a buzzkill.” I apologized again, citing work, and walked out of the room.

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Chapter 1 It took me three days and three nights, sifting through the putrid mess of a waste transfer station with my bare hands, to recover the billionaire’s treasured, limited-edition watch, worth millions. The billionaire, in a show of profound gratitude, immediately offered me a downtown apartment and a ten-million-dollar annual salary. But when my best friend, Summer, found out, she exploded. “Are you out of your mind? We might be poor, but we have our dignity.” “Accepting charity like that—how is that any different from a beggar?” In my past life, brainwashed by her insidious words, I not only rejected the billionaire but also swore never to accept any handouts. From then on, I turned down all internship opportunities from prestigious companies, ending up in odd jobs after graduation. Later, unable to pay rent, I begged her to take me in. Instead, she laughed and started a livestream. “Look, everyone, isn’t this my best friend, the one who rejected millions to uphold her dignity? Look how miserable her life is now.” The video went viral, turning me into a universally mocked, self-righteous clown. She climbed over my ruins, becoming an inspirational influencer championing modern female independence. On that rainy night, evicted by my landlord, I swallowed pills and ended my life. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment I was about to return the watch. Chapter 2 Outside the waste transfer station, two men in dark suits blocked my path. “Ms. Lin, the watch… did you really find it?” I nodded, holding up the watch I’d just unearthed from the trash heap. Before I could speak, the billionaire in front of me, Mr. Fletcher, grew visibly emotional. “This was the last thing my mother left me before she passed. Ms. Lin, I truly thank you.” I handed him the watch, about to say, “You’re welcome.” Suddenly, my best friend, Summer, rushed forward and yanked me behind her. “Autumn! Are you insane?!” She glared at me. “Are you really going to give it to him? Have you no shame?” Those familiar words hit me like a lightning bolt. Only then did I realize I had been reborn. In my previous life, she had stopped me in the exact same way. But all I could think about was returning the item to its rightful owner. Besides, before I even started looking, I hadn’t expected any reward. I never truly bought into her “poor but righteous” nonsense, so I had returned the watch to Mr. Fletcher. I just hadn’t expected him to then offer me a downtown apartment and a ten-million-dollar annual salary. When Summer found out, she furiously accused me of selling my soul for money, shaming independent women of our era. Eventually, after her manipulative gaslighting, I rejected all the rewards. That very decision ultimately led to my death. Thinking of this, my anger flared. “Summer, what are you doing?” “I’m here to return what belongs to him.” Summer flinched, surprised by my defiance. She lifted her chin, her gaze fixed forward. “Return what belongs to him? Don’t make it sound so noble.” “We might be poor, but we don’t accept handouts!” She sighed, adopting a pained expression. “Autumn, I’m doing this for your own good.” “Don’t you know how much these rich people look down on us? If you’re so eager, they’ll just think you’re cheap.” Hearing this, Mr. Fletcher immediately grew agitated. “Young lady, Ms. Lin helped me recover my deceased mother’s keepsake. It’s only right for me to thank her. This is not charity.” Summer scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thanks? Frankly, isn’t it just about money?” “Autumn, you’re really good at giving them an easy out.” “You sifted through trash for three days, all for this paltry sum? Have you no integrity?” As she spoke, she reached for me again. I coldly swatted her hand away. “I know whether I have integrity. I don’t need you to teach me.” “Mr. Fletcher, please keep the watch safe.” Mr. Fletcher understood my meaning and immediately signaled his secretary with his eyes. The secretary understood. “Ms. Lin, this is Mr. Fletcher’s token of gratitude: the deed to a downtown apartment and an offer for a ten-million-dollar annual salary with our group.” Mr. Fletcher looked at me. “Ms. Lin, please accept it. Otherwise, I won’t feel at ease.” Summer’s eyes burned red when she saw the offer. She lunged forward, swatting away my outstretched hand. “Bribery! This is blatant bribery!” She pointed an accusing finger at Mr. Fletcher. “Do you think you can buy our dignity with a house and a job?” She then pointed at me. “Autumn, you’re hopeless.” “If you accept this, aren’t you admitting you’re a commodity with a price tag?” “How are you any different from those who sell their bodies for money?” Her eyes suddenly reddened, and she cried to our housemates, who had been drawn by the commotion. “Look, everyone, I’m trying to help her, and she’s talking to me like this.” “For money, she’s even throwing away years of our friendship.” Housemate A advised me, “Autumn, Summer means well. For us girls, our reputation is most important.” Housemate B echoed, “That’s right, acknowledging the gesture is enough. If you really accept it, how will others look at you?” I looked at them, a cold laugh escaping me. “If you feel it compromises your dignity, you’re welcome to never touch it.” Watching their synchronized performance, I found it absurd. I bent down and, under their stunned gazes, picked up the deed and the offer from the floor. “If you find it disgraceful, you can avoid it your entire life.” “Mr. Fletcher, thank you for your generosity. I’ll accept it.” Mr. Fletcher breathed a sigh of relief. “Glad to hear it. Glad to hear it.” Summer trembled with rage. “Fine, Autumn, you’re so righteous! You’re so clever! Don’t you dare regret this later!” Seeing I ignored her, she placed her hands on her hips and looked at Mr. Fletcher with disdain. “Her lack of integrity is her problem. I, Summer Davies, am different! What I despise most in this life are rich people like you, who think they can buy people with money!” With that, she turned and ran off. I paid her no mind, taking the offer, ready to go check out the apartment. But just as I reached the apartment building, Mr. Fletcher’s secretary called. “I’m very sorry, Ms. Lin, your move-in procedures might have to be temporarily postponed.” Chapter 3 My heart sank. “What happened?” The secretary’s voice was apologetic. “We received a report from building management saying your… identity is questionable, suspected of fraud. So your access card has been frozen.” Fraud? I immediately understood. This had to be Summer’s doing. I hung up the phone and turned to walk towards the management office. Sure enough, through the glass door, I saw her earnestly speaking to the property manager. Summer saw me and immediately feigned surprise. “Autumn, why are you here?” “I’m clarifying things with the manager. It must be a misunderstanding. Don’t worry.” The property manager sized me up, then said sternly: “Miss, Ms. Davies kindly informed us that the origin of your apartment is unclear.” “For the safety of other residents, we must verify this.” Summer seized the opportunity to grab my hand. “Autumn, let’s go. Don’t embarrass yourself here. Look, everyone’s staring at you.” I shook off her hand, staring at her hypocritical face. “Summer, what exactly do you want?” She immediately stepped back. “I don’t want anything. I just did what any good citizen should.” “I can’t just stand by and watch you get scammed and bring shame to our school.” Her voice was neither too loud nor too soft, just enough for everyone in the office to hear. “Think about it, who would just give a student a downtown apartment for no reason? There must be something fishy going on.” I couldn’t be bothered with her nonsense, so I directly called Mr. Fletcher. “Hello, Mr. Fletcher, this apartment you gave me… it’s not fake, is it?” “Now someone is accusing me of fraud, and the building management has frozen my access card.” “Of course not, Ms. Lin. Please don’t worry, I’ll be right there.” Summer’s face instantly paled, and she reached out to snatch my phone. But I simply shifted slightly and evaded her. Seeing she couldn’t grab it, she instead shouted at the property manager: “Did you hear that? They’re contacting him directly! If their relationship was clean, who would believe it?” The property manager’s gaze grew even more hesitant. I looked at her almost frantic demeanor, a cold laugh escaping me. “You’re trying so hard to prove there’s something wrong with me. Is it because you also desperately want this ‘problematic’ gift?” “You’re talking nonsense!” Summer’s voice immediately rose. “I’ve always viewed money as dirt; how could I want something so tainted?” “Look at yourself now. How are you any different from a kept woman?” “You’ve completely shamed all independent women of our new era!” She grew more animated, suddenly grabbing a wad of cash from her bag and throwing it at me. “You like money, don’t you? Is this enough? Stop debasing yourself!” Hearing those familiar words, my blood ran cold. In my previous life, I believed her lies, not only refusing my parents’ living allowance but also working three grueling jobs every day. Yet all my hard-earned money was taken by her under the pretense of “safekeeping, so you don’t spend it foolishly.” When I was finally destitute, unable to even pay rent, she actually told me it was a test. Truly strong women rise from hardship! Recalling my past foolishness, I now felt only disgust. Just as I was about to retort, a call from the school counselor came in. His tone was unpleasant. “Autumn Lin, where are you?” “How dare you fake your eligibility for financial aid!” “Get to my office immediately!” Chapter 4 Hearing that, my mind went blank. Financial aid was my entire hope for next semester; without it, I couldn’t even pay tuition. Summer saw me frozen in place and smiled triumphantly. “What, dumbfounded? What did I tell you? Karma’s here.” I had no time for her taunts and turned to rush back to school. All the way, she kept nagging in my ear: “Autumn, see, I told you there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Now look, the whole school knows.” In the counselor’s office, as soon as he saw me, he slapped a complaint letter on the table. “Autumn Lin, a student has formally reported that you live a lavish lifestyle, receiving large sums of money from various people by selling your body.” “How dare you still apply for poverty student aid?” Selling my body? I hadn’t even processed it when Summer immediately interjected, “Professor, I wrote that letter.” “I couldn’t just stand by and watch her go astray.” “Financial aid is so precious; it should go to truly principled students.” She then turned to me. “Autumn, I’m helping you too.” “Cutting off this dirty money is the only way you’ll find yourself again.” My fingertips trembled with rage. “Summer, you steal my hope and then claim it’s for my own good?” The counselor frowned, tapping the table hard twice. “Autumn Lin! Summer means well, what’s with your attitude?” “Tell me yourself, what’s going on with the downtown apartment and that ten-million-dollar annual job offer?” I took a deep breath, suppressing my inner fury, and fully explained everything about Mr. Fletcher. But the counselor clearly didn’t believe me. “Even if what you say is true, for a student to accept such valuable things—is that appropriate?” “Besides, this incident has already created a very negative impression among students.” Summer continued to fan the flames. “Exactly! Now the whole class knows, saying she’d do anything for money. Our dorm’s reputation is almost ruined because of her.” “I’ve always said that rich people’s things are toxic. You insisted on taking them. Now you regret it, but it’s too late.” It was happening again! In my previous life, she used the same tactics to control me, making me reject all prestigious internships, which led to me only finding odd jobs after graduation. Thinking of this, I stared coldly at her. “Summer, do you dare to confront me face-to-face? Let’s invite Mr. Fletcher here and clear everything up.” Summer’s eyes flickered, but she quickly straightened her back. “Confrontation it is. I’m upright, so I’m not afraid of shadows, unlike some people who have something to hide.” The counselor immediately waved his hand. “Nonsense! Bringing outsiders to school—what kind of decorum is that?!” I didn’t back down. “Professor, this concerns my reputation and my studies. I must clarify it.” Summer suddenly shouted, “Fine! You want to make a big deal out of it? Then let’s verify everything.” “Let’s see if your apartment and offer are real or fake. Don’t get fooled by fakes and treat them like treasure.” Her words were exactly what I wanted. “Good, it’s settled then.” “If the apartment and offer are all real, you will apologize to me in front of all the school’s teachers and students, and admit that you falsely accused me!” Chapter 5 “Alright, but if the apartment and offer are both fake, and you made it all up, then you’ll withdraw from school yourself and stop embarrassing the institution.” The counselor initially tried to stop us, but seeing our firm stances, he eventually agreed. He called in a few student representatives as witnesses and laid down the ground rules. “You’re the ones making a scene. Whatever happens, you deal with it. It has nothing to do with the school.” I didn’t waste any more time, dialing Mr. Fletcher’s number directly. “Mr. Fletcher, I apologize for disturbing you, but there’s a bit of trouble at school… I need your help to clarify something.” I briefly explained the situation. The phone went silent for a few seconds, then his deep voice came through: “I’ll be there right away.” Less than an hour later, Mr. Fletcher appeared with his secretary and lawyer. We arrived at the apartment building in a grand procession. Summer tidied her clothes and spoke to Mr. Fletcher, neither humble nor arrogant. “Mr. Fletcher, we just want to confirm if you would truly give such valuable things to a student with whom you have no significant relationship.” But Mr. Fletcher didn’t even look at her; he simply nodded towards his assistant. The assistant immediately produced copies of the deed and the offer, beginning to display them to everyone. “All documents have been notarized and are legally binding.” The counselor and student representatives gathered to examine them, their expressions slowly shifting from doubt to shock. “This… this is real?” A student representative’s voice trembled. Summer’s face was a little pale, but she still stood her ground. “Who knows if the documents are real or fake? If you’re so capable, then swipe the access card!” She pointed at the apartment door, her eyes fixed on me. I held the key, and under everyone’s gaze, walked towards the access panel. Honestly, I was a bit nervous, especially since it had been frozen before. If something went wrong now, I’d truly be unable to clear my name. I took a deep breath and placed the key card against the sensor. Beep— The green light flashed, and the door opened. I breathed a sigh of relief, about to turn and demand Summer’s apology. Suddenly, Summer burst into laughter. “Hahahaha, Autumn! Did you see that? The door opened. Everything is real.” She turned to the counselor and students. “Professor, students, you all saw it. I lost. Autumn wasn’t scammed. She really did climb a social ladder.” “She really would do anything for money.” Her words stunned everyone present. Summer took a few steps towards me and bowed deeply. “Autumn, I apologize.” “My mistake was underestimating your methods. My mistake was thinking you still had dignity.” “You weren’t tricked; you did this willingly.” I was bewildered by her barrage of accusations, completely unsure what she was trying to do. She had clearly lost, yet she acted as if she were the victor. Just as the surrounding students began to look at Summer with strange expressions, Mr. Fletcher frowned. But before he could take the employment contract from his assistant. Summer snatched the contract and handed it to me. My gaze followed her hand to the tiny print at the bottom of the contract. I collapsed to the ground, unable to utter a single word.

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On a stormy apocalyptic night, my own mother kicked me and my Husky out into the cold. I was burning with a deadly fever. She did it just so my brother could have my share of the food. She spat through the crack in the door, “Take this useless mutt and go die. Stop wasting Tyler’s rations.” I huddled in a dumpster with my dog, certain that my life was over. Who knew my Husky would suddenly speak with a mechanical voice. “Critical host vitality detected. Infinite Supply Search System bound.” “One hundred yards ahead, supermarket warehouse. Three thousand crates of self-heating beef stew detected.” “Five hundred yards left, pharmacy. Five hundred boxes of antibiotics detected.” Three days later, I established a fortress with my dog pack and mountains of supplies. I sat inside eating a hot steak while watching the show outside. My mother and brother knelt beyond my chain link fence, tearing at each other like rabid animals over half a piece of moldy bread. I just smiled. “Careful, Mom. Not even a stray dog would eat that. Swallow slowly.” 1 My head throbbed. My forehead was hot enough to fry an egg. I curled up in the corner of the living room sofa, wrapped in a threadbare blanket, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. “Mom, just give me one fever pill. I am not going to make it.” My voice was terrifyingly hoarse. The back of my throat tasted like copper. Martha sat by the coffee table, her fingers wrapped tight around a white plastic bottle. It was the last bottle of Advil in the house. She did not even glance my way. Her eyes were glued to Tyler, who was busy mashing buttons on his video game controller. Tyler sniffled and let out the quietest, faintest sneeze. Martha leaped up instantly. She poured a glass of warm water and pressed two pills into Tyler’s palm. “Sweetheart, take these quick. That sneeze did not sound right. You cannot afford to catch a cold.” I stared at the scene in utter disbelief. I was running a fever of a hundred and three degrees. I was borderline hallucinating. Tyler just had an itchy nose. I struggled to pull myself up from the sofa and reached a shaking hand toward the medicine bottle. “Mom, I am still burning up. Just save one for me.” Smack. Martha slapped the back of my hand hard. My skin welled up red almost instantly. “Eat, eat, eat. That is all you know how to do. This medicine is for the man of the house. Why should a useless burden like you get any?” Tyler swallowed the pills and slammed his glass down on the table. He shot a look of pure disgust at my Husky, Duke, who was lying by my feet. “Mom, this dog is shedding everywhere. It pisses me off just looking at it. Plus, it eats way too much. We barely have enough rice left. Just throw it out.” Duke seemed to understand. He let out a soft whimper and buried his nose into the crook of my knees. My father left Duke to me before he passed away. This dog had been by my side for five long years. I threw my arms around Duke’s neck, shielding him. “No. Dad left him to me. Nobody touches him.” Tyler let out a cold laugh. He stood up and kicked Duke right in the stomach. Duke yelped in pain but kept his teeth shut. He did not bite back, purely because he did not want to make things worse for me. I lost my mind. I lunged forward and shoved Tyler away. “Stop it.” Tyler used the momentum to throw himself onto the floor, wailing at the top of his lungs. “Mom. Riley hit me. She hit me over a stupid dog.” Martha’s face darkened into a storm. She stormed into the kitchen, grabbed a heavy wooden rolling pin, and started bringing it down on me. “You little rebel. How dare you hit your brother.” One strike. Two strikes. The heavy wood crashed against my back and arms. I curled into a tight ball, wrapping my body around my dog to protect his head. Outside, thunder shook the apartment walls. The rain was torrential. Down in the streets, the guttural shrieks of the infected echoed through the concrete canyons. Martha finally grew tired. Panting heavily, she pointed the rolling pin straight at the front door. “Get out. Take your filthy animal and get the hell out of my house.” “I am not feeding a parasite, and I am sure as hell not feeding a useless mutt.” I looked up at her, my vision blurring. “Mom, the streets are crawling with zombies. It is pouring rain. You want me to leave now? You are sending me to my death.” Martha grabbed me by the collar of my shirt. She possessed a terrifying, frantic strength. She dragged me and Duke across the living room floor, right to the entryway. “Then go die outside. Stop wasting your brother’s rations.” She yanked the deadbolts back, threw open the heavy metal door, and planted a foot in my side. I lost my balance and tumbled out into the freezing stairwell, taking Duke down with me. Slam. The heavy door shut tight. Then came the metallic grinding. Click. Click. Both deadbolts sliding into place. I lay on the freezing concrete floor. Every bone in my body felt like it had been shattered. From the other side of the door, I could hear Tyler’s muffled voice. “Mom, her winter puffer coat is pretty thick. We should have stripped it off her before tossing her out.” Martha spat on the floor. “Bad luck. It is tainted with that dead girl’s sickness. We do not want it.” Listening to that heartwarming family exchange, my tears completely dried up. The stairwell was pitch black. The motion sensor lights had burned out weeks ago. A foul, icy draft blew up the shaft, bringing with it the sound of heavy, dragging footsteps from the floors below. It was the sound of rubber soles scraping against concrete. The rancid stench of rotting meat floated up through the gaps in the stairs. The infected were in the building. 2 My blood ran cold. The blistering heat of my fever instantly morphed into a layer of freezing sweat. I forced my shaking legs to stand and stumbled to the apartment door across from ours. I pounded my fists against the wood. “Mrs. Higgins. Mrs. Higgins, open up, it is Riley. Please, just let me hide inside. I will stay right by the door.” Nobody answered. But I could hear the panicked, rapid breathing on the other side. I heard the scraping of heavy furniture being dragged to barricade the door. They heard me. They just did not want to save me. The dragging footsteps below were getting louder. Closer. A low, vibrating snarl echoed up the stairwell. It was the sound of a wild beast catching the scent of fresh prey. Lightning flashed outside the corridor window. In that split second of blinding white light, I saw it. Down on the landing, a humanoid figure with only half a face was twisting its neck to look up at me. Its eyes were a milky, dead white. Its jaw was moving, still chewing on something unrecognizable. It saw me. My knees buckled. I almost dropped to the floor. It was over. I was a dead woman walking. Suddenly, Duke bit down on the hem of my jeans and yanked me violently toward the upward stairs. “Woof.” He barked. It was short, sharp, and commanded action. He did not charge down to fight. He was dragging me up toward the roof. My survival instinct kicked back in. Yes. Go up. The infected had stiff, rigor-mortis joints. They were terrible at climbing stairs. Ignoring the dizzying spin of my fever, I scrambled up the concrete steps on my hands and knees. The snarling below erupted into a frenzy. The zombie began slamming its body against the handrails, accelerating its climb. I did not dare look back. My lungs felt like they were packed with burning coals. Sixth floor. Seventh floor. We hit the top landing. But the heavy metal door leading to the roof was sealed shut with a massive, rusted padlock. Despair washed over me like a tidal wave. Locked. The frantic footsteps behind me had already reached the sixth floor. Duke let go of my jeans and threw his body against the padlock. It did nothing. He whipped his head around and started barking frantically at a pile of discarded renovation debris in the corner. I looked over. Sticking out of the rubble was a rusted iron crowbar. I threw myself at the pile, grabbed the cold iron, and jammed the wedged end right into the padlock’s shackle. I put the entire weight of my body, all my rage, and every ounce of my will to live into that piece of metal. Snap. The rusty metal gave way. The lock burst open. The heavy door groaned on its hinges. I shoved it open, tumbling out onto the tar roof with Duke right beside me. I kicked the door shut behind us and jammed the crowbar through the door handles, wedging it against the frame. Bang. A massive force slammed against the metal from the inside. It was the sound of a skull repeatedly bashing against steel. The door rattled violently. Dust and rust rained down. I collapsed into a puddle on the roof, gasping for air. The freezing rain poured over me, soaking through my clothes and shocking my fever-hot skin, sending violent shivers down my spine. I had survived. For now. But I was trapped on a rooftop. No food. No water. Just an endless storm above and a swarm of monsters below. I pulled Duke close, huddling under the concrete overhang of the building’s water tank to escape the worst of the rain. Right then, a window opened on the floor below. Martha poked her head out. From her angle, she could see a corner of the roof. When she saw I was still breathing, a flash of genuine disappointment crossed her face. Then, she started screaming. “You little witch. You are still not dead? Are you hiding food up there? I knew it. I knew you were a greedy little rat hiding food while your brother starves.” “Throw it down here right now. Give it to Tyler, or I swear I will curse you to rot in hell.” Her shrill, piercing voice cut through the howling storm. The zombies inside the building heard her. They abandoned the roof door and began throwing themselves against the metal security gate of her apartment. Terrified, Martha yanked her head back inside and slammed the window shut. I stared at that closed window with dead eyes. The very last thread of affection I held for my family snapped. It was completely gone. I stroked Duke’s soaking wet fur. “It is just you and me now, buddy.” Duke licked the palm of my hand. Suddenly, a mechanical voice echoed in my head. No, not my head. The voice was coming straight from Duke’s mouth. “System alert. Critical host vitality detected. Infinite Supply Search System has been bound.” I froze. Was the fever cooking my brain? Duke looked up at me. His bright blue eyes were flashing with an unnatural, neon light. He stood up, trotted over to an abandoned planter box in the corner, and started digging at the dirt. “System alert. Hidden supplies located. One sealed package of beef jerky. One bottle of mineral water.” I walked over, my legs trembling. I brushed away the wet mud and dead weeds. A red plastic bag was buried there. Inside, exactly as the voice said, was a thick, vacuum-sealed stick of beef jerky and a fresh bottle of water. Someone must have stashed it up here before the world ended and forgot about it. My hands shook as I ripped open the plastic. The smell of spiced meat hit my nose. I shoved it into my mouth, swallowing it down in massive chunks barely chewing. A slow warmth began to spread through my freezing stomach. I was going to live. I had Duke. 3 The rain poured through the night. By dawn, the downpour had faded into a miserable drizzle. Thanks to Duke pressing his warm body against mine all night, my fever had actually broken. Duke was standing near the edge of the roof, his ears pinned straight up, listening to the vibrations of the concrete. “System alert. Three infected gathered on the third floor. Fifth floor secure. Human survivors moving on the fourth floor.” I understood immediately. Someone was coming up the stairs. Before I could even stand, a violent crash echoed from the roof door. My makeshift crowbar lock was not secure enough. After a few heavy kicks, the metal door flew open. Tyler stepped out, gripping a bloody machete. Behind him were two sketchy guys from the fifth floor. Local thugs who had a reputation for stealing even before the world went to hell. Martha trailed behind them, her face twisted in a bitter scowl. Tyler’s eyes locked onto the empty jerky wrapper by my feet. His eyes instantly turned bloodshot. “Mom. I told you she was hiding food. Look.” Martha let out a screech. She lunged toward me, raising her hand to slap my face. “You heartless bitch. Your brother has been starving all day, and you are up here having a picnic. Do you have more? Hand it over.” The two thugs moved in, circling me with dirty smiles. Their eyes roamed up and down my shivering body. “Well, well. The girl is looking a little pale, but she is still pretty enough.” I gripped my rusted crowbar tight and backed up against the roof’s edge. “There is nothing left. It was just one piece, and I found it up here.” Tyler did not believe a word of it. He stepped forward, reaching out to grab me. “Bullshit. Take off your clothes. I am searching you myself.” Duke lunged. He moved like a blur, sinking his teeth right into Tyler’s wrist. “Ahhhh.” Tyler screamed in agony, dropping the machete. “Get this dead mutt off me.” He stumbled backward, clutching his bleeding arm. The two thugs exchanged a look, raised the heavy steel pipes they were carrying, and swung them down hard at Duke. Duke was fast, but he was just a dog, and he was trying to stand between them and me. Smack. A steel pipe connected with Duke’s back leg. The sickening crack of bone was loud enough to echo over the wind. Duke let out a heartbreaking yelp and collapsed to the tar roof, his back leg twisted at a horrifying angle. “Duke.” My vision went red. I raised the crowbar and charged forward, ready to kill them all. One of the thugs simply raised his boot and kicked me square in the stomach. The force sent me flying backward. I crashed hard into the rusted metal railing, curling into a ball as the air left my lungs. Tyler snatched his machete off the ground. He marched over with a vicious look in his eyes. He did not kill Duke. Instead, he took the flat side of the heavy blade and started bashing it against Duke’s skull. “Bite me again. Go on, bite me again.” Duke whimpered, blood dripping from his snout, but his bright blue eyes stayed locked onto Tyler in pure defiance. Tyler turned his head toward me, his face glowing with a sick sense of revenge. “Hey sis. That puffer jacket looks really warm. I think I will take it.” “You are going to die anyway. Be a shame to waste it.” He stepped up and violently yanked the zipper down. Martha stood on the sidelines, not only doing nothing to stop it, but cheering him on. “Hurry up. Stop wasting time. It is freezing up here.” I fought back with everything I had, scratching my nails across Tyler’s face, leaving a deep, bleeding trail. “Get off me. You are a monster.” Tyler wiped the blood off his cheek and backhanded me hard across the jaw. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine. With the help of the two thugs, they pinned me down and physically ripped the winter coat off my body. I was left in a thin, worn-out sweater. The biting winter wind instantly pierced right to my bones. Tyler gleefully slipped my coat on. It still held my body heat. He patted the sleeves down with a look of disgust. “Smells a little like wet dog, but it will do.” He stood over me, looking down at my bruised body and my crippled dog. “Look at you. You are worse off than a stray animal. Just hug your stupid dog and wait to die.” Martha spat directly onto my face. “Let’s go. Leave this jinx to rot.” They turned to head back to the stairwell. But right at that moment, an explosive sound echoed from the floor below. Then another. And another. It was the sound of dozens of decaying hands slamming against metal. The zombie horde had made it up the stairs.

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As a polyglot fluent in eight languages, my decision to quit and become a tour guide delighted everyone at the translation agency—except Selena, the orphaned “genius” senior translator. She clung to my arm, pleading desperately. “Maria, even after you’ve ruined chances with international firms and damaged the agency’s name, I salvaged things and begged for you. This is your home—I won’t let you leave!” I shook her off coldly and walked next door to apply as a tour guide. In my past life, she was celebrated as a brilliant, self-taught translator who mastered eight languages and flawlessly translated specialized terms across fields. While I pored over idioms and polished exhibition scripts, she could recite them perfectly after one glance. During live interpretation, she’d speak the exact phrase I was still refining in my mind. Refusing to be outdone, I spent five days crafting a concise, elegant, and politically nuanced translation of a leader’s speech. But when I delivered it to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Selena had already submitted an identical draft—and secured the role of exclusive translator. She rose to fame as the “genius translator,” while I was branded a fraud riding on my father’s reputation. Before I could uncover the truth, I was killed by one of Selena’s fanatical followers. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Selena first rose to fame. 1 “Maria, the exhibition is about to start. Selena hasn’t prepared anything this time, so don’t accuse her of stealing your script again.” The sight of my colleague’s familiar face made my scalp prickle. I sprang up and retrieved my speech, which I had locked away in my cabinet. This was the day Selena, as the “genius” senior translator, first achieved fame, and it marked a critical turning point in my own declining reputation. Before this, Selena always managed to vocalize my speeches in advance, leaving me speechless and humiliated in front of everyone. Over time, I suspected she was secretly reading my scripts, so I always locked them away. Seeing the meticulously crafted speech, filled with specialized terminology I had painstakingly refined, I felt a sense of calm. Just then, Selena approached, her face wreathed in smiles. “This must be your speech for today, Maria. Can I glance at the beginning to admire it? After all, you’re so brilliant!” I forced a smile, clutching the script tightly, remembering the unsettling pattern from my previous life. Each time before I was due to speak, Selena would always take a quick look at the beginning of my script. Following this, the content she presented would inevitably be identical, leaving me unprepared and speechless before the crowd. “No, you can hear it live in a moment. I need to rush to host.” This time, I wouldn’t fall for her trick. I was convinced this had to be connected to her secretly viewing my script. As I stepped onto the stage, brimming with confidence, a voice beside me cut in—it was Selena! “Welcome, everyone, to the Pearl River Tech New Product Exhibition! It’s a pleasure to discuss our new products with you. We’ve also prepared an exciting Q&A and raffle session…” She slowly walked onto the stage, introducing me as an “early lucky audience member.” Then, she effortlessly engaged various international guests in different languages, even incorporating local dialects and slang, eliciting hearty laughter. My mind went blank. I had locked my script in a safe; no one but me should have seen it. Moreover, she hadn’t even seen my opening, yet she perfectly recounted my meticulously prepared flow and even the idiomatic conversations. I rushed off the stage, only to be confronted by colleagues who questioned me with undisguised disdain. “You copied Selena again! She told me about this outline ages ago. Good thing I heard your content yesterday and felt something was off, so I applied for her to be the host this morning!” “No, I conceptualized this half a month ago; she copied me!” They snatched my script, then looked at me with sarcastic eyes after reading the contents. “You always lock your scripts away, then you play the victim and accuse Selena. Is it because you’re jealous of an orphan who’s fluent in eight languages?” “I saw her outline too, and you didn’t change a single word. It’s absolutely shameful. You must be furious that Selena is being called a genius senior translator!” I offered proof of my conceptualization, only to be met with even more revulsion. Because the evidence I presented was identical to Selena’s outline, without a single alteration. A chill ran through me as I watched Selena, fluent and unscripted on stage, being hailed as a genius senior translator, the bitterness growing stronger. Selena finished hosting, showered with praise from veteran colleagues. Hearing that she had prepared it in such a short time only amplified their accolades, cementing her reputation as a rising star. It had happened the same way in my previous life. My face paled. Because this event was livestreamed, Selena gained a massive following, while I was deluged with endless mockery. “Selena’s colleague said she was just jealous and sabotaged things, even stealing her carefully crafted script. Luckily Selena was quick on her feet!” “I hate people who are incompetent and jealous at work. She should be fired from the agency, she doesn’t deserve to work with Selena!” A flood of insults crashed down on me. I was deeply unwilling to see my hard work become someone else’s triumph. Afterward, I diligently studied various languages, constantly practicing simultaneous interpretation, hoping to clear my name by participating in many livestreams. But each time, Selena would preemptively voice the translation I was about to say, leaving me awkwardly relegated to the background. Time and again, my livestream appearances were disastrous. I became the public benchmark for Selena, and in her fans’ eyes, a jealous shrew. Selena’s fanatical follower kidnapped me, forcing sulfuric acid down my throat. I was in agony, unable to scream, literally dismembered, my body left in a desolate area, staged as a suicide. Selena, feigning kindness, wrapped things up for her fan, claiming I had posted a suicide note before my death. Everyone blamed me for my restless demise. My father, utterly disappointed in me, then championed the remorseful, tearful Selena as the nation’s ace translator. Thankfully, now I’m back. I can uncover the truth and clear my name. 2 “An orphan, untaught, fluent in eight languages—that’s just too far-fetched. A script can be stolen, but live simultaneous interpretation for random international trade clients? That’s different!” My eyes brightened, and my frantic heart gradually calmed. Selena must have used some unknown means to steal my thoughts, I thought, gritting my teeth. The next day, Selena slowly approached me, a smile on her face. “Maria, today we’re translating for clients from different countries at random. You’ll have to guide me.” I raised my hand, using a notebook to block her approach, and a sudden realization struck me. This pen she gave me. Ever since then, my thoughts had nowhere to hide. Could she have tampered with it, and each time she looked at my opening, it was to verify if the content was real? I calmly put the pen down, and spoke coolly. “This time, I’ve decided not to highlight a single keyword. It’ll be a true test of simultaneous interpretation!” She froze for a moment, then resumed her smile, nodding in praise. My client soon arrived, speaking rapidly, interspersed with numerous specialized terms. I translated calmly. He praised my work, but before long, we encountered Selena and her client. “This is our booth, virtual reality is indispensable in today’s internet…” The client even used an idiom to compliment my intelligence. I smiled, about to translate, when I was interrupted. “This gentleman is asking his brilliant translator to introduce this booth. Virtual reality is indispensable in today’s internet…” Selena smiled, voicing every thought in my mind, even perfectly translating the specialized terms I had specifically learned. I stared, shocked. I hadn’t even used her pen to write down keywords, yet she still articulated my translation! I immediately composed myself, listening to the client opposite me rapidly explaining his ideas, only managing to grasp about eighty percent. I wanted to be faster than her. As soon as I had formed the sentence in my mind, she translated it identically. I was certain she was stealing my internal translations to achieve all of this. Because I had adopted my client’s speaking habits, and she immediately replicated them after just meeting him—that was clearly abnormal! Sure enough, my client was astonished. After that, as soon as I had refined a sentence, Selena would articulate my thoughts, word for word. It was too bizarre; my heart pounded, but I couldn’t stop it. The transaction was successfully completed, and even the observing colleagues live-streaming couldn’t help but applaud. “Selena, brilliant! Maria, you’re just a pretender! Intentionally trying to steal someone else’s commission!” “Without Selena, with how silent you were throughout, this deal would definitely have fallen through again!” I glared, just in time to see a barrage of insults in the comments. “How dare she zone out during such a big deal? Incompetent, yet she wants a commission—how shameless!” “Selena is truly a genius senior translator. This Maria is just riding her father’s coattails, workplace trash!” My question was filled with indignation and frustration. “No, what method did you use to even know my thoughts?” Selena, however, smiled, gently patted my shoulder, feigning distress. “Maria, I know you dislike me, but you took too long to think, and this concerns the agency’s reputation. If you want to scold me, go ahead…” “If you’re not convinced, let’s compare. Liam and I will randomly think of some dialogues, so you can’t accuse Selena of having pre-arranged communication to trick you!” I gritted my teeth and agreed, listening to the dialogues they presented as top interpreters in Portuguese and Korean. But as soon as I had finished conceptualizing, Selena preempted me, speaking it out loud and getting affirmation. I was incredulous. This was an impromptu setup, yet she still articulated exactly what I intended to say. My colleagues’ faces grew even more scornful, while Selena offered a faint smile, offering no explanation. “Ignore jealous, accusatory people! Selena, let’s go!” I stood alone, my heart heavy and confused, unable to fathom the reason why. It was too supernatural. Why was this happening? 3 From that day on, the agency increasingly favored Selena, while growing more neglectful and disdainful of me. My colleagues treated me as if I were invisible. My father even sought me out, his eyes filled with disappointment. “Stop doing embarrassing things that cause a public uproar online, saying I pulled strings for you!” “Dad, Selena is using despicable methods to steal my thoughts!” “I recommended you for this Ministry of Foreign Affairs submission. This is an absolutely fair competition; prepare well!” I locked myself at home, working for five days and nights straight, poring over dictionaries and idioms. I printed my draft half an hour before the deadline and delivered it to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. I was convinced there would be no mistakes this time, but I didn’t notice the grim expressions of the Ministry staff. “We’re sorry, ma’am, we strongly oppose plagiarism. You’ve been disqualified.” My eyes widened, my body rigid. Immediately, my father slapped me hard, sending me sprawling to the ground. “If you can’t compete, you plagiarize! You’ve utterly disgraced me!” He held the leader’s speech I had just printed, his face livid, glaring at me. My eyes were red, and I kept shaking my head, snatching Selena’s other copy of the speech—it was identical to mine! Seeing Selena walk out, smiling, I couldn’t take it anymore. I rushed forward, shaking her, demanding angrily: “Tell me, what despicable methods did you use to steal my thoughts!” Selena’s fans at the door threw down their support signs, charging at me and pinning me to the ground, beating me. “How dare you accuse our Selena! She’s an exclusive translator, honest and upright! What are you?!” “Kill this thief! Can’t you see your own father is so mad he’s almost dead? He wishes he never had such a disgraceful, vile daughter!” I helplessly covered my head, watching my father comfort Selena, not even glancing at me. I gritted my teeth, stood up, forcefully pushed away the attacking fans, and, with blood on my face, stared intently at Selena. “There’s a key specialized term missing inside, and an extra error. Tell me what they are!” I had deliberately omitted a section, fearing a repeat of the tragedy. Selena couldn’t possibly know. My father, his face grim, turned back and slapped me hard, gripping my shoulder. “If you’ve lost your mind, go home. Stop causing trouble!” My face swollen, tears streaming, I realized my father knew the truth, yet he chose to shield Selena and frame me. Selena gently removed my father’s hand, looking at me with mockery and triumph as she slowly spoke. “The tonnage for the space station in aerospace technology was wrong; there’s only an extra error, no missing specialized term!” I fell to the ground weakly. She really knew everything, even avoiding my trap. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs staff carefully checked and confirmed her words. The agency director, arriving with a dark expression, glared at me. “Stop causing a scene. You’re ruining the agency’s reputation.” “Old O’Connor, your daughter has gone mad! Take her home immediately!” The fans continuously agreed, shouting for me to die. My father looked at me with an icy expression. I felt as though I’d been plunged into an ice cellar, unable to utter a single word in my defense. It wasn’t until I looked at the bracelet on my wrist that I suddenly understood. So, this was the truth! In the dead silence, a Ministry of Foreign Affairs staff member received a call, nodding respectfully again and again. “Selena, come with me! The Director of Translation Services specifically requested you to interpret at the China-Germany conference! If you perform well this time, your future will be limitless!” Hearing the latter half of the sentence, Selena’s eyes instantly lit up. But then she remembered a problem and asked hesitantly, “What if I mess it up?” “You can’t mess it up! This concerns the friendship between our two countries!” Selena’s face paled. She suddenly grabbed my sleeve, her grip tight: “Maria! If you sincerely apologize, I can talk to the Director and persuade him to let you stay on as my assistant!” I coldly shook off her hand, sneering: “I can’t be the assistant to a genius translator. Director, I’m resigning.” Selena, seeing me about to leave, grew frantic, almost blurting out the truth: “You can’t leave! If you leave, how can I translate for them?”

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1 My daughter was bullied at school so mercilessly that her eye was bruised purple and swelling so badly it looked ready to burst. By the time I rushed into the principal’s office, the other girl still had her hands twisted violently in my daughter’s hair. “You filthy piece of trash. You think you deserve to wear the same necklace as me?” The girl spat, yanking hard. “Tell me where you stole it from!” Lily’s mouth was so full of blood she couldn’t even form the words to defend herself. A blind rage took over me. I shoved the girl away with enough force to send her stumbling back, fully intending to make her feel exactly what she had done to my little girl. But Lily grabbed my wrist. She shook her head, her breath hitching weakly. “Dad, don’t. She promised me… ten thousand dollars for every slap.” Lily choked back a sob. “We need that money to pay for Mom’s treatments.” Tears instantly flooded my vision. The crushing weight of her words hit me right in the chest. My ten-year-old daughter was trying to trade her own life, her own dignity, to save Melora. That was why she had been coming home covered in fresh bruises for weeks. The girl I had shoved was trembling with fury, pointing a manicured finger right at my face. “You cheap peasants actually dared to touch me!” she screamed. “My mother is the wealthiest woman in New York! Just wait until she gets here. She is going to kill you both!” The heavy oak doors of the office swung open. The girl immediately rushed forward, burying her face into the woman’s expensive coat, sobbing and playing the victim. But I stood completely frozen. The blood in my veins turned to ice. The woman standing in the doorway was not a stranger. It was my wife. The woman who supposedly suffered from a severe stroke, the woman who had been bedridden and paralyzed in our tiny apartment for months. “Mom?” Lily’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief, her legs giving out beneath her. For a split second, she didn’t know whether to cry tears of joy that her mother could finally walk, or scream in agony at the utter betrayal staring us in the face. I walked up to Melora. My hand shook violently as I pointed at the spoiled girl clinging to her. “Who is she? Why the hell is she calling you Mom?” Melora didn’t even look at me. She shoved past my shoulder, marching straight up to the principal’s desk. Her voice was pure ice. “I poured millions of dollars into this school so you would protect my daughter!” she snapped. “Not so that any random gutter rat could step on her head!” Her anger boiled over. She grabbed a porcelain teacup off the desk and hurled it at the wall. It shattered into a dozen pieces. One flying shard slashed right across Lily’s cheek, drawing a line of warm, red blood. It was a fresh wound layered over a face already battered and bruised. Yet Lily didn’t even flinch. It was as if she couldn’t feel the physical pain anymore. She scrambled forward and grabbed the sleeve of Melora’s designer silk blouse. “How could you do this to us? To Dad?” Lily cried out, her voice breaking. “Do you have any idea how hard we fought to keep you alive?” To afford the expensive treatments for Melora’s fake illness, Lily and I had starved ourselves. We shared single portions of stale bread. We wore clothes until the fabric grew thin and frayed, terrified to spend a single dime on ourselves. Every day after my grueling shifts, Lily would walk with me through the freezing streets to collect scrap metal and empty bottles. We did it just to scrape together enough cash to buy Melora warm, nutritious meals so she could fight her disease. Melora looked down at Lily in absolute silence. She looked at her own flesh and blood as if she were a panhandling stranger. Then, she let out a scoff. A sound dripping with pure contempt. “Who do you think you are, touching me?” Melora sneered. “The last person who harassed me like this had their hands chopped off.” With Melora backing her up, the arrogant girl grew even bolder. She strutted right up to me and delivered a stinging slap across my face. “Like father, like daughter,” the girl mocked. “You disgusting animals really thought you could claim my mother as your own?” She sneered and unclipped a thick, diamond-encrusted chain from her designer phone case. “Let me show you the difference between us elites and you filthy commoners,” the girl said, dangling the chain. “This little accessory alone costs eight million dollars.” Lily and I survived on eight hundred dollars a month. We didn’t even have a fraction of a fraction of what that trinket was worth. “You need money, right?” the girl laughed. “Get on your knees and bark like a dog. If you do it well enough, I’ll toss you this chain out of pity for your worthless lives.” She whipped the chain right into Lily’s face, laughing as she waited for my daughter to drop to her knees. Throughout all of this, Melora did absolutely nothing. She just watched with cold, dead eyes, as if she were watching a boring television show. Just yesterday, this same woman had held our hands in that cramped, moldy bedroom, crying hot tears of guilt. “I am so sorry I’m a burden to you both,” she had sobbed. “Just take the money and leave me. Go start a new life.” Lily and I had refused, crying and swearing we would never abandon her. We swore we would cure her. Now, the irony was thick enough to choke on. Melora wasn’t sick. She was the richest woman in the city. She had the power to give us the world, yet she chose to watch us drown in misery. All the pure, unconditional love Lily and I poured into her had just been a game. A sick tool for her to manipulate us. Lily bit her lip so hard it bled. Tears spilled hot and fast down her cheeks. She took a step forward, desperate to demand the justice we deserved. But I grabbed her small, trembling hand. I looked down at her and shook my head. “Let’s go, Lily.” If Melora didn’t want to admit who we were, then fine. From this moment on, we were truly nothing to each other. 2 Lily looked up at me, thoroughly confused. But despite the mountain of anger building in her tiny chest, she nodded. She could feel my hands shaking. She knew that my calm demeanor was nothing but a fragile mask. Deep down, my heart had just been pulverized into a million jagged pieces. “Hold on!” The girl’s shrill voice rang out. She wasn’t satisfied. She lunged forward and grabbed Lily by the collar of her worn-out jacket. With a violent yank, she snapped the thin necklace around Lily’s neck and threw it onto the marble floor. She ground the heel of her leather boot into the pendant until it cracked into pieces. “Dare to wear the same jewelry as me again,” the girl whispered venomously, “and next time, I’ll carve the skin right off your neck.” At the sight of the broken necklace, Melora finally reacted. Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows twitched. She recognized it. It was the birthday gift she had given Lily years ago. Back then, she hadn’t started faking her illness. We were just an ordinary family, but we were the happiest people in the world. Melora used to spend every spare dollar she earned just to see us smile. If I stared at a tie in a shop window for a few seconds too long, Melora would magically present it to me the very next day, her eyes sparkling like stars. “Do you like it, honey?” she would ask. If Lily mentioned that the other kids at school had pretty necklaces, Melora would walk through three different neighborhoods in the freezing rain to find the perfect one. When I scolded her for spending her hard-earned money on us, she would just smile and kiss my cheek. “I don’t need fancy hair salons or manicures,” she used to say. “Buying happiness for you and Lily is the only thing worth my money.” But standing in that office, the horrific truth dawned on me. From the moment Lily put that necklace on, she was destined to suffer for it. Melora’s love had been split in two. Melora opened her mouth, looking as if she wanted to say something. But by the time she found her words, I had already pulled Lily out the door and down the hallway. I took Lily straight to the hospital to clean and stitch her wounds. She kept her eyes squeezed shut the entire time, biting her lip so hard I had to place my thumb over her mouth to stop the bleeding. “Dad, it hurts so much,” Lily whimpered. “Why didn’t it hurt like this before?” She clung to my shirt, her tiny body trembling with every sob. I patted her back, a bitter, suffocating lump lodged in my throat. She was only ten years old. Yet her body was already covered in scars that would never fade, tied to memories that would haunt her forever. Before today, she could run home, throw her arms around Melora, and beg for praise. Melora would call her a good girl, a brave girl. And every time Lily looked at the growing pile of crumpled bills in her piggy bank, the physical pain of the bullying would vanish. She only felt the overwhelming joy of knowing she was saving her mother’s life. But now, Melora’s cold, venomous words acted like a thousand icy needles piercing straight through our hearts, making it physically painful just to breathe. By the time we returned to our tiny apartment, Melora was sitting on the old, sagging couch in the living room. “Where did you go?” she demanded, crossing her arms. “You weren’t picking up the phone.” She instinctively took a step toward us, but the sudden movement made Lily shriek and scramble backward, hiding behind my legs. Melora froze. Her harsh tone immediately softened. “Lily, sweetie, did Mom scare you today?” She forced a gentle smile. “That was all fake. Mom was just acting for those people.” Once upon a time, Lily believed every single word that came out of Melora’s mouth. If Melora promised to bring home her favorite dessert, Lily would sit by the door for hours waiting for her. If Melora promised a trip to the zoo, Lily would lay out her favorite dress the night before, vibrating with excitement. She knew her mother loved her, and her mother always kept her promises. But now, the past warmth had been entirely replaced by raw terror. Lily kept her face buried in the back of my coat, refusing to speak a single word. Melora’s patience snapped. She stepped forward and reached out to grab Lily’s arm. “Don’t you dare touch her!” I shoved Melora back with everything I had. My eyes burned with pure, unadulterated hatred. I hated her for faking a terminal illness. I hated her for making me stay awake for countless nights, weeping in the dark, paralyzed by the fear of losing her. I had swallowed every ounce of my pride, getting on my hands and knees to beg relatives and strangers for loans to pay her medical bills. And in the end, my agony was nothing more than a casual lie she constructed on a whim. “Arthur, this is your fault! You spoiled her!” Melora screamed, her face twisting in anger. “If I didn’t hide my wealth from her, she’d grow up to be an entitled monster!” I stared at her in utter disbelief. The woman I had loved for a decade morphed into a complete stranger right before my eyes. How could she stand there and blame us? How could she wash her hands of the cruelty and shift the sin onto our shoulders? I clenched my fists, abandoning whatever shred of sanity I had left. I roared at the top of my lungs. “Then you should ask that little bastard you call a daughter!” I screamed. “Ask her how many people she’s beaten! How many faces she’s slapped! And she gets away with all of it because her billionaire mother sweeps it under the rug!” “Just like she did to my daughter!” The moment the words left my mouth, a sharp, ringing slap echoed through the room. My cheek burned instantly. 3 Melora’s chest heaved violently, her eyes bloodshot. “You are a madman!” she shrieked. “Arthur, you are the one ruining her!” With that, she turned on her heel, marched out the front door, and slammed it behind her. The gust of wind from the door felt like a second slap across my face. “Dad, does it hurt?” Lily cried, her small hands frantically trying to wipe the tears from her own face. “I’m sorry, it’s all my fault. This is all my fault.” “I’m fine, sweetie.” I crouched down and pulled her into a tight embrace. “None of this is your fault. Do you understand me?” Lily scrambled to the bathroom and brought back the first aid kit. She carefully dabbed ointment onto my swollen cheek, blowing cool air on the stinging skin. Looking at her face, so strikingly similar to Melora’s, I was violently pulled back to the past. Melora and I had been together since high school. We had held hands through over a decade of life. She had seen me at my absolute worst, at my most pathetic. Back in high school, I was severely overweight. I was the punchline of every joke in the hallways. Driven by absolute self-hatred, I forced myself to run laps on the track to lose the weight. But my heavy body gave out, and I tripped, slamming face-first into the gravel. The laughter from the bleachers was deafening. It stripped away whatever dignity I had left. But in that suffocating darkness, Melora walked up to me. She extended her hand, helped me off the ground, and wiped the dirt and blood from my face. She was gentle. She was radiant. From that day forward, she was the light that illuminated my bleak, miserable life. For the next ten years, I genuinely believed I possessed the greatest, purest love in the entire world. A thunderous pounding on the front door shattered my memories. The knocks grew louder and more violent, as if someone were trying to break the door off its hinges. “Dad…” Lily whispered, her eyes wide with fresh panic. I forced myself to be brave. I walked toward the entrance, but before I could reach the handle, the door was kicked open with a deafening crash. “So you’re the animal, aren’t you!” A strange man stormed into our living room. He was dressed in a tailored, expensive suit, radiating an aura of absolute arrogance. Right behind him was the girl from the principal’s office. Stella. “Dad! That’s him! That’s the guy and his brat!” she yelled, pointing at us. The man flicked his wrist. A dozen men in black suits swarmed into the cramped apartment from the hallway. They brutally shoved me away from Lily, pinning us down. They bound our wrists and ankles with zip ties and tossed us onto the cold floor like garbage. The man walked over and nudged my face with the tip of his polished Italian leather shoe. “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said, his voice dripping with superiority. “My name is Marcus. I am Melora’s legal, rightful husband.” He sneered, looking around our tiny, run-down apartment. “And where exactly did a shameless male whore like you crawl out from?” His eyes drifted over to Lily, and a dark chuckle rumbled in his chest. “I have to admit, she really does look a bit like Melora. You hide your little affair in the slums, and you actually have the nerve to let your bastard child run wild in my daughter’s school?” He picked up a heavy wooden plank leaning against the wall. “Since you’ve been careless enough to let me find you, I am going to make sure neither of you ever sees the light of day again.” He raised the plank, aiming straight for Lily’s battered face. “No!” I screamed, thrashing against the zip ties. “Melora and I are legally married! We have a certificate! You are the homewrecker!” Marcus froze. The plank stopped mid-air. He turned his head slowly to look at me. “A marriage certificate? Where is it? Get it for me. Now.” 4 He signaled the men in black to cut the zip ties around my wrists and ankles. I didn’t dare hesitate for a fraction of a second. I scrambled on my hands and knees into the bedroom, pulling out the bottom drawer of the nightstand. I dug out the red marriage booklets I had cherished for years. They had our photos. They had the official red stamps. But the moment Marcus took one look at them, he burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. “I was wondering where those fake certificates I bought for twenty bucks went. So she gave them to you!” Marcus laughed until he had to wipe a tear from his eye. “Arthur, are you completely blind? Didn’t you notice the registration numbers are literally handwritten?” “She only bought these because I was throwing a tantrum and threatened to tear up our real marriage license. She needed a prop to pacify me, and she actually used it to trick you!” My hands shook violently as I stared at the red booklet on the floor. Only now, in the harsh light, did I see how cheap and poorly forged the stamps and writing were. But back then, I had believed her completely. I believed her when she said it would take three days to process the paperwork. When she finally handed me the booklet, I didn’t harbor a single doubt. I was so overwhelmed with joy that my eyes turned red. I had picked Melora up and spun her around the living room. “Thank God,” I had cried. “I finally get to marry you!” The truth was so exceptionally cruel it felt as if a thousand blades were plunging into my chest at once. The pain was so intense my vision went black at the edges. “Dad! Dad!” Lily’s frantic screaming pulled me back to reality. Marcus looked down at her, his eyes darkening with malice. “You’ve got quite the lungs on you, little rat,” he muttered. He looked at his men. “Give the little bastard a lesson.” The men in black immediately surrounded my ten-year-old daughter.

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1 Inside the equestrian center, the adopted younger brother, Ken, was clinging precariously, almost thrown from the horse, his life hanging by a thread. My birth parents rushed to me, their voices raw with panic. “Go save him! Only you can calm that horse!” I pulled back the thin blanket covering my legs, revealing the heavy cast beneath. “Save him with what?” I asked, my voice disturbingly calm. “With this leg, the one you personally broke?” … A thud. My birth parents, Ashton and Sarah, fell to their knees before me, perfectly synchronized. “Adrian! Please, son! I’m begging you!” Sarah’s voice was choked with tears. “Please save Ken, he’s barely holding on!” “Just save Ken, and your father will grant you anything you ask!” Ashton’s arrogant pride crumbled, his forehead pressed against the ground, his voice trembling. They would go to such lengths for an adopted son, someone who shared no blood with them. To kneel before their own flesh and blood… the irony was a bitter taste in my mouth. In the two years since they’d “found” me, had they ever truly treated me as their son? Ken and I shared the same birthday, but they found me coarse and feared I’d embarrass them, forbidding me from attending the party. I didn’t push it, only asking if they could come home early to share a birthday cake with me. They promised. Instead, they flew Ken to Paris, throwing him a lavish birthday bash beneath the Eiffel Tower. I, meanwhile, waited alone in the sprawling mansion until midnight. The noodles turned to mush, and I never even got a “Happy Birthday” from them. When they returned, seeing my hurt, Sarah even scolded me: “Why are you so insensitive? Can’t you be more considerate of your brother?” “Ken has always been delicate; isn’t it natural for us to dote on him more?” Yes, of course. Because I was their biological son, I was destined to be sacrificed, neglected, and merely a prop for Ken. “Adrian! You’re being absolutely ridiculous!” A sharp, angry female voice cut through the air. It was my fiancée, Cassy. She strode toward me, her gaze imperious, and pointed an accusing finger. “Your aunt and uncle are on their knees! How can you be so heartless? Aren’t you afraid of shortening your own life?” Her beautiful face was etched with disappointment and scorn, as if I’d committed some unforgivable sin. Sarah immediately seized the chance, weeping as she spoke: “Cassy, don’t blame Adrian, it’s all our fault, we wronged him, it’s understandable he’s angry…” Her words sounded like a defense, but in reality, they placed me on an impossible moral high ground. It was as if she were saying: See, we’ve knelt and admitted our wrongs, yet you still refuse to help; you’re simply unfilial and wicked. The surrounding relatives immediately began whispering and pointing. “What kind of child is he? So cold-blooded.” “Exactly, they’re his own parents, after all. There’s no grudge that can’t be forgotten.” “Ken is such a sweet boy, how could he be so cruel…” I watched the unfolding drama with detached eyes, my heart unmoving. “Ah! Help!” In the center of the arena, Ken’s screams grew more desperate, his body swaying precariously, as if he’d be thrown and trampled to death at any second. The sound struck Ashton and Sarah like a heavy hammer. They abandoned all pretense of dignity, frantically bowing their heads to me. “Adrian! Please, son, I beg you! Save Ken!” “I’m bowing to you! Have some mercy!” Cassy was thoroughly enraged by the sight. She stepped forward, gripping my shoulder, and snarled in a commanding tone: “Adrian! I told you to go save him! Did you hear me?” I slowly lifted my eyes, my icy gaze piercing her like a blade. “If you want to save him, go yourself. I won’t.” Cassy recoiled, startled by my stare, and instinctively released her grip. I turned my head, my gaze falling upon the two pathetic figures on the ground, a faint curve playing on my lips. “If you want me to save him, fine.” 2 In an instant, all eyes were fixed on me. Ashton and Sarah jolted their heads up, as if clutching a last straw of hope. “Tell us! Anything! We’ll agree to any condition if you save Ken!” Slowly, I articulated my terms: “First, all shares of the Gosling Corporation will be immediately transferred to my name.” “Second, Ken will be removed from the Gosling family registry.” “From this day forward, you will never acknowledge him again.” My words hung in the air, plunging the entire scene into an oppressive silence. Everyone stared at me as if I were a madman. They hadn’t expected such greed, such utter ruthlessness. The hope on Ashton and Sarah’s faces froze, replaced by shock and disbelief. “You… what did you say?” Sarah’s voice trembled. “Adrian! So, you are after the Gosling family fortune!” Cassy was the first to react, pointing a finger at my nose, her face contorted with scorn and fury. “I never realized until now that you were such a materialistic man!” She seemed to think she had caught me, her voice laced with menace. “Go save Ken right now, and I can pretend none of this happened.” “Otherwise, we’ll break off our engagement immediately!” She truly believed I still cared about that ridiculous engagement. I looked at her and suddenly chuckled. “Alright.” I answered crisply. “We’ll break off the engagement.” The triumphant smirk on Cassy’s face stiffened; she couldn’t believe her ears. “You… what did you say? Adrian, have you been wanting to break up with me for a long time?” My smile widened. “Congratulations, you got it right.” Her face instantly flushed, her body trembling with rage. “Ah—!” Ken, on the horse’s back, let out a final, desperate shriek, his body tilting precariously, on the verge of falling. “Ken!” Sarah cried out hysterically, nearly fainting. Ashton’s psychological defenses completely shattered. He gritted his teeth, forcing out words as if through a vice. “Fine! I agree! I’ll agree to anything!” I smiled, satisfied. From a nearby saddlebag, I produced the pre-prepared share transfer agreement and a declaration of disinheritance. “Words are worthless. Sign them now.” Everyone was shocked anew by my foresight. Seeing my preparations, Sarah pointed at me, too furious to speak. “Adrian! You… you’re utterly heartless!” “Sign it.” I waved the documents and pen in my hand, urging them. “Any later, and I can’t guarantee he’ll still be alive.” The two exchanged glances, seeing the struggle and pain in each other’s eyes. Ultimately, their affection for their adopted son won out. Their hands trembling, they took the documents and pen, and under everyone’s gaze, signed their names. Each stroke seemed to drain them of all their strength. I took the papers, carefully checking the signatures and fingerprints. Once confirmed, I tucked them away with a satisfied air. Three copies: one for me, one for them, and one notarized by a lawyer. Completely foolproof. “Alright, now can we go save him?” Cassy glared at me, seething, as if she wanted to devour me whole. Ashton and Sarah, too, had risen from the ground, their eyes fixed on me with hopeful anticipation. “Of course.” I smiled, placing my hands on the armrests, making a motion to stand. Everyone held their breath. And in that moment, I pulled back the thin blanket covering my legs, revealing the heavily bandaged cast in its entirety to everyone. Then, I offered them an apologetic, innocent smile. “My apologies.” “My leg is injured. I can’t save him.” 3 Time seemed to freeze. Everyone’s expressions were etched into masks of disbelief. “Adrian! You tricked us!” Cassy was the first to react, lunging forward and swiftly snatching the signed agreement from my hand. She glanced down at its contents, a twisted, triumphant smile spreading across her face. “Adrian, you are utterly despicable! For money, you’d abandon your own brother’s life!” She held the document aloft, shouting to everyone: “Look, everyone, this is the true face of the Gosling family’s biological son!” “He never intended to save anyone; he was just blackmailing his own parents!” With that, she crumpled the document savagely and stuffed it into her pocket. Then, she turned, displaying her agile figure, and rushed into the equestrian center without hesitation. “Ken, don’t be scared! I’m coming to save you!” Facing the frenzied horse, she remained fearless, even demonstrating remarkable horsemanship. To protect Ken, her arm was grazed by a hoof, leaving a bloody mark. She successfully reined in the horse, helping the thoroughly shaken Ken down from its back. A classic damsel-saves-distressed-man scenario, and the entire arena erupted in thunderous applause and admiration. “Miss Cassy is amazing!” “So brave! Now that’s a true heroine!” “Compared to a certain heartless man, it’s like night and day!” The applause and praise felt like stinging slaps across my face. Then came a real, solid slap. Ashton stood up, walked to me, and with all his might, delivered a blow to my cheek. It left me dizzy, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of my mouth. “You ungrateful wretch! You viper!” He pointed a trembling finger at my nose, enraged. “How could the Gosling family produce something so utterly heartless!” Sarah rushed over, her eyes burning with venom. “Adrian, I truly regret taking you back! You don’t deserve to be my son!” They all swarmed around Ken and Cassy, fussing over the hero and the pretty boy. Cassy supported Ken, basking in the crowd’s adoration. Ken leaned into her arms, looking utterly pitiful, tears streaking his pale face, a picture of vulnerability. “Brother…” He looked at me, his voice as soft as a feather. “Brother, we’re family, how could you be so cruel, watching me on the brink of death and refusing to help…” He paused, then added, with deliberate implication, “This horse, I remember you always trained it, brother.” “It’s usually so gentle; why would it suddenly act like this today? Brother, were you trying to hurt me on purpose?” 4 His vague, manipulative words instantly ignited everyone’s fury. “My God! So, he was behind it all!” “How devious! He’s a modern-day villain!” “To steal the inheritance, he’d even harm his own brother!” I became the target of all their scorn. Seeing her objective achieved, Cassy dropped her pretense. She embraced Ken, her gaze triumphant, and announced loudly: “Everyone, I officially announce today that I am breaking off my engagement with Adrian!” “A man as venomous and materialistic as him is unworthy to be my husband, Cassy Stratt, and certainly unworthy to be a Gosling!” She turned to Ashton and Sarah, speaking with deep affection: “Ashton, Sarah, Ken and I are truly in love.” “Before, due to the engagement, we had to keep our feelings hidden. Now, I hope you can bless our union!” Ken bashfully lowered his head, his cheeks flushed, tacitly agreeing to everything. What a performance of undying love. Ashton and Sarah, after a brief moment of shock, immediately concurred. “Yes! Yes! Cassy, we bless you both!” Sarah, her voice brimming with emotion, took Cassy’s hand. “It’s Ken’s blessing to be with you!” Ashton looked at me with an expression of utter disappointment. “Adrian, you have disappointed us beyond measure! You conspired against us, you tried to harm your brother; you don’t deserve the Gosling name!” “From today on, I, Ashton Gosling, have no son named Adrian! Get out of this house!” They spoke in unison, eager to cast me out and make room for the loving couple. The surrounding guests also cheered them on. I watched the entire charade with cold detachment, waiting until their performance concluded before slowly smiling. “What’s the rush? The one who should be leaving the Gosling family isn’t me, it’s Ken!” My voice was soft, yet it instantly silenced the noisy scene. I let out a whistle, and the “mad” horse obediently walked towards me. Everyone gasped and recoiled several steps. Black Beauty affectionately nudged my palm with its head, emitting a contented rumble. I stroked its glossy black mane and spoke leisurely. “Doesn’t anyone find it strange?” “Why did this horse, which was supposedly ‘frenzied,’ immediately become so docile after Ken was rescued?” “And my dear brother, after being dragged around by a wild horse for so long, didn’t even get a scratch.” “Could it be… that you, too, brother, possess hidden talents and are a horse whisperer?” I fixed my gaze on Cassy’s rigid face. “Cassy, you clearly had the ability to subdue the horse immediately. Why did you wait until my parents signed the agreement before intervening?” “And why did you insist on forcing a man with a broken leg to rescue someone?” My string of rhetorical questions were like pebbles thrown into a calm lake, stirring ripples. The people present weren’t fools; their expressions began to shift to curiosity and suspicion. Ken and Cassy’s faces instantly turned ashen. “You, what nonsense are you spouting!” Cassy shouted, her voice laced with fear. “Nonsense?” I scoffed, pulling out my phone from my pocket. “This horse is my darling, my treasured companion since it was a foal. So, I specifically installed a 24-hour surveillance camera in its stable.” I pressed play, pointing the screen towards the crowd. A clear video appeared before everyone.

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