Category: English

The first time Gwen Sinclair cheated, she dragged her lover into the foyer of our penthouse, her eyes rimmed with a manic sort of red. “Do what you want with him,” she’d challenged, her voice trembling not with guilt, but with a terrifying kind of adrenaline. Because I loved her with a desperation that bordered on the pathetic, I chose to believe it was a momentary lapse in judgment. I forgave the unforgivable. The second time, I took matters into my own hands. I bought the man off, sent him to a different continent, and made it clear that if he ever touched American soil again, he’d find out exactly how much power the Wilder name carried. Then came the night of our engagement gala. Gwen didn’t come to me with an apology this time. She came with a blade. She pinned me against the mahogany desk in my study, her hand tightening around my throat, the cold tip of a stiletto knife pressing into the soft skin of my lower abdomen. “Where is Samuel?” she hissed, her breath smelling of expensive scotch and ruin. “He’s the father of my child, Bennett. Didn’t you know?” The room felt like it was tilting on its axis. “It was my fault,” she continued, her voice breaking. “I couldn’t control my feelings. If you want to be a monster, be one to me. Samuel is innocent. He doesn’t deserve your vendettas. Please… I’m begging you. Just let the baby be born safely, and I promise, I’ll never see him again.” She leaned in closer, her eyes searching mine for a mercy I no longer possessed. “You lost the ability to have children after the accident, didn’t you? Let’s just keep this one. We can raise him together. He’ll only ever know you as his father. That’s my vow to you.” The knife punctured my skin. A sharp, stinging heat blossomed across my stomach, followed by the wet warmth of blood soaking into my silk shirt. I looked at her—really looked at her—and smiled. Then, I told her exactly where Samuel Moore was hiding. … The heavy thud of the front door echoing through the house signaled her departure. I fumbled for my phone with shaking fingers, dialing a number I’d kept in my contacts like a glass-break emergency kit. “You were right,” I whispered into the receiver, my voice thin. “Can you still get me out?” On the other end, a woman cursed under her breath. Her tone was a mix of exasperation and pity. “You’re telling me this now? Bennett, I’m already at the gate for my flight to London. How am I supposed to help you from across the Atlantic?” “Harper, please.” “Bennett Wilder,” she sighed, her voice softening. “You’re the smartest man I know in a boardroom, but you’re a goddamn idiot when it comes to that woman. Did you trade all your common sense for a pretty face?” I pressed a hand against the wound on my belly, the pain a dull, rhythmic throb. “I’m sorry. I owe you. A thirty percent stake in the next development project—is that enough to make it worth your while?” There was a sharp intake of breath. Harper Ross was a shark, and I’d just dropped blood in the water. “Send me the time and the location,” she said, her professional veneer snapping back into place. “I’ll be there. And next time you want to screw over your life, make sure I’m the one you call first. I’m expensive, but I’m loyal.” I forwarded the entire wedding plan to Harper. She replied with a simple OK emoji. The house we’d built together, the one intended to be our marital home, was a wreck. Gwen had torn it apart in her rage, a perfect mirror of the state of my soul. I cleaned the wound as best I could, bandaged it with trembling hands, and stumbled out into the night. I had just checked into a discreet boutique hotel when Gwen’s name flashed on my screen. The roar of jet engines in the background was unmistakable, but it couldn’t drown out the sharp, defensive edge in her voice. “Ben? I’m on a private flight out of the country. I can’t be there tonight. Just… get some rest. I’m sorry about earlier. I was emotional. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She paused, perhaps waiting for me to comfort her. “Is it bad? Should I send a doctor over to the villa?” “Don’t bother,” I said, my voice cold and flat. Gwen’s tone instantly hardened. “Bennett, don’t do this. What happened with Samuel was an accident. I was—someone drugged my drink, and I thought he was you. It’s done now. I have to find him. You expect me to let the father of my child rot in some foreign gutter?” She scoffed. “You forgave me once before. Why are you making a scene now? Our wedding is in a week. Just take tonight to calm down.” I stared at my chat history with Harper, a grim sense of finality settling over me. “Don’t worry about the week,” I said. “There isn’t going to be a wedding.” “Gwen,” I added, “I told you once. I don’t do compromises on loyalty. Not anymore.” I was about to hang up when she exploded. “Not getting married? Are you joking? The gala is over, the papers are signed, the entire East Coast knows the Sinclair and Wilder families are merging! You’re going to threaten the merger over this?” “Bennett, we grew up together. You know who I am. I wouldn’t have betrayed you if I hadn’t been set up!” “They say three’s a crowd, but I’ve only made two mistakes. Once the baby is born, I swear Samuel will never cross your path again. Isn’t that enough?” A single tear escaped, hot and bitter, tracking down my cheek. I let out a jagged laugh. “So that’s the plan? I spend every day looking at a child that isn’t mine, a living, breathing reminder of every time you chose him over me? I can’t do it, Gwen. I’m sorry.” “Fine!” she screamed. “Remember you said that! Don’t you dare regret it when I’m gone! Look at any woman in my position—every CEO has a side piece. I gave you Samuel to deal with as you saw fit. I’ve been more than fair. If you can handle it, show up at the altar. If not, then get out. Do whatever the hell you want.” The line went dead. I looked at my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window. I looked broken, pale, and entirely too young for the weight I was carrying. She had forgotten. She’d forgotten the car crash three years ago. She’d forgotten that the only reason I had a permanent scar on my abdomen—and the reason I could never give her a child—was because I had thrown my body over hers when the truck hit us. Suite 1214. This room used to be our sanctuary. She said it was where our best memories lived. Valentine’s Day, birthdays, anniversaries—we’d claimed this space as our own. But now, I was the only one left who remembered the ghosts. When my parents called, I knew she had already leaked the news of the “breakup” to them. “Bennett, honey, what is happening? Gwen says you’re calling off the wedding?” my mother asked, her voice hovering between panic and confusion. “This isn’t a game, son,” my father added. “You can’t just walk away from a merger of this scale.” I buried myself under the heavy duvet, my voice thick with unshed tears. “She’s pregnant. It’s not mine.” There was a heavy silence. Then, my father’s voice came back, lower this time. “Every woman makes mistakes, Ben. Just have her take care of it and—” “I’m not calling off the wedding,” I interrupted. “I’m just changing the bride. You remember Harper Ross.” My father’s advice died in his throat. My mother gasped so loud it echoed through the line. “Harper? Bennett, you two are rivals! She’s been trying to sink your firm since prep school. Have you forgotten the time she nearly got you expelled?” I smiled, though it felt more like a baring of teeth. “Exactly. That’s why I’m marrying her. I want to spend the rest of my life making her miserable. Or maybe she’ll do the same to me. Either way, it’ll be honest.” I didn’t sleep. The wound in my gut throbbed in time with my heartbeat, a constant, nagging reminder of Gwen’s “love.” At dawn, I called a broker to list the villa. I didn’t want the equity. I just wanted it gone. When I went back to pack my things, I saw Gwen’s private jet idling on the lawn. Inside the house, the walls told a story I hadn’t been invited to read. The photos I had carefully framed of us were gone. In their place were snapshots of her and Samuel. The glaciers in Iceland. The Eiffel Tower. The ruins of Notre Dame. Every place we had ever visited, she had taken him there to rewrite our history. She used to tell me she hated photos. She’d say that as a woman in power, she couldn’t afford to have her image used against her by competitors or the press. No matter how much I begged for a single portrait of us together, she refused. But for Samuel, she was an open book. I found them standing by the photo wall. Gwen was glowing, her hand resting on her barely-there bump. She looked younger, softer. “Samuel, when the baby is born, we’ll take him to all these places, okay?” she whispered. “He’s going to love it. Look, he just kicked! Can you feel it?” The sound of the door closing drew their attention. Samuel didn’t act like a tough guy. He immediately dropped to his knees, crawling toward me and grabbing the hem of my coat. “Bennett, please. It’s my fault. I broke my promise. I shouldn’t have come back, but I love her so much… I swear, once the baby is here, I’ll disappear. I won’t get in your way…” Before I could speak, Gwen let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Don’t apologize to him, Samuel. You were drugged, too. If anyone owes an apology, it’s me for putting you in this position.” She turned her gaze on me, her eyes like chips of flint. “Bennett, I found out who was behind the drugging. That company will be bankrupt within the month. Samuel is a victim here. You can’t blame him for a mistake he was forced into. I’m willing to overlook your behavior last night. Just apologize to him, and we can put this behind us.” I looked at her, and for the first time in twenty years, I felt absolutely nothing. No anger. No longing. Just a profound sense of absurdity. “I should apologize? Gwen, have you finally lost your mind?” Suddenly, Samuel’s grip on my waist tightened, his fingers digging directly into my bandaged wound. I let out a sharp, choked gasp, cold sweat breaking out across my forehead. The pain was blinding. I shoved him away instinctively. I didn’t use much force, but he tumbled backward, hitting the glass cabinet with a theatrical crash. “What are you doing?!” Gwen lunged at me, shoving me with all her strength. My head slammed into the sharp edge of the doorframe. The world went white. I felt the warm trickle of blood running down my temple. “I think you’re the one who’s lost it!” Gwen screamed, her voice distorted by rage. “He was humbling himself before you, I gave you an explanation, and you still act like a savage?” “Apologize. Now. Or you’ll see exactly what I’m capable of.” I gritted my teeth, swallowing the iron taste of blood and the crushing weight of betrayal. “Never.” “You want me to apologize to your plaything? In your dreams, Gwen.” “You ungrateful bastard!” Gwen’s face was contorted. she helped Samuel into the master bedroom, her touch infinitely tender. When she came back out, she didn’t come alone. She summoned the household staff. “Where are the security ties?” she demanded. “Mr. Wilder is having a breakdown. Let him sit out in the garden and clear his head.” “No one lets him up until I say so.” My eyes went wide. “Gwen, you’re insane! He’s a nobody, and you’re doing this to me? In the house I bought?” “The house you bought,” she whispered, leaning into my space, “but I’m the one who owns the air inside it.” She didn’t look back as the guards dragged me toward the terrace. My boots dragged on the hardwood, leaving a smear of blood from my head wound. As the heavy glass doors locked behind me, a crack of thunder split the sky. Within seconds, the clouds opened up, a torrential New England downpour drenching me to the bone. I slumped against the stone balustrade. The wounds on my head and stomach began to burn, then throb, then go numb. My consciousness began to fray at the edges. I looked at the guard standing under the eaves, his expression one of bored amusement. “Please…” I rasped, my voice barely audible over the rain. “Tell Gwen… I need a doctor. Please.” The guard gave me a mocking smirk. “Save it, kid. I’ve seen enough of your type’s drama. Ms. Sinclair just called her private physician for Mr. Moore. She’s a little busy right now.” I looked up at the second-floor balcony. Two silhouettes moved behind the sheer curtains. Then, the world went dark. Through the haze of my fever, I heard shouting. “Shit, he’s out! There’s blood everywhere!” Footsteps approached. An umbrella was held over me, blocking the relentless needles of rain. Gwen’s voice was like ice water. “Are you done playing the martyr?” “Anyone would think you were the one being mistreated here, Bennett. You need to learn some humility. This is for your own good.” The footsteps retreated. I heard her and Samuel talking near the door. “Gwen,” Samuel’s voice was a soft, manipulative purr. “He doesn’t look like he’s faking. Is this too much? He’s your fiancé. If his family finds out…” Gwen’s voice was firm. “I’ve spent years building this empire. I don’t answer to the Wilders anymore. He started this. You’re going to be here for the next eight months; I won’t have him bullying you. His ego needs to be broken.” I could almost see the smirk on Samuel’s face. “I heard these high-society marriages are just business. Is that how it is with you and Bennett?” The rain continued to lash against my face, cold and unforgiving. For a moment, I thought my heart had simply stopped. “To wear the crown, one must bear the weight,” Gwen said, her voice devoid of emotion. “Being a Sinclair means marriage is a strategic alliance I can’t escape. Since I have no choice, I accepted it. Bennett is handsome, he’s predictable, and compared to the other arrogant heirs out there, he was the best option.” Tears mingled with the rainwater, sliding into the dirt. Gwen’s voice changed then—it became warm, filled with a genuine affection I hadn’t heard in years.

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The Caldwell family was haunted by a legacy of early graves. Every man in their bloodline carried a genetic ticking clock—none had ever made it past thirty. My family’s lineage was the only antidote, a tradition of spiritual and physical tethering that kept the darkness at bay through marriage. But on the day of our wedding, Bennett Caldwell didn’t say “I do.” Instead, he reached into his tuxedo jacket, pulled out our marriage contract, and tore it to shreds in front of the entire congregation. He did it for her—his college sweetheart, the “one who got away” who had suddenly come back into his life. His mother rushed forward, her face pale with terror, trying to stop him. Bennett ignored her. He looked at me with eyes full of a localized, burning hatred. “Morgan, you’re nothing but a parasitic fraud,” he spat, his voice echoing through the cathedral. “My family has been bled dry by yours for nearly a century. You’ve tricked us with ghost stories and superstition to fund your lifestyle. Well, the free ride ends today.” Brooke, the woman standing at his side, leaned into him. She wore a smug, dismissive smile as she looked at me. “What are you still standing there for? Get out.” She adjusted her glasses, the light catching her “Dr. Brooke Stevens” name tag from the hospital. “I have a PhD in medicine, Bennett. Trust me, with real science on your side, you won’t just live past thirty—you’ll live to a hundred. You don’t need a witch.” I thought about Bennett’s pulse this morning. It had been a thready, fading vibration, barely a whisper against my fingertips. A cold, hard knot formed in my chest. Fine, I thought. His thirtieth birthday is in three days. We’ll see who’s right very soon. 1 I turned to leave, but Bennett’s mother, Mrs. Caldwell, grabbed my hand, her fingers trembling. “Morgan, please! Don’t go!” She spun toward her son, her voice cracking. “Bennett, apologize to her right now. Stop this madness!” Bennett didn’t move. He kept his hand firmly locked with Brooke’s. “You know exactly why we have this arrangement,” Mrs. Caldwell hissed, her voice dropping to a desperate whisper. “Thirty years ago, your uncle tried to break the cycle. He was crushed by a semi-truck on the morning of his thirtieth birthday. And your cousin? He laughed at the ‘curse’ just like you are now. He dropped dead of a massive hemorrhage the second he blew out his candles. You have three days left, Bennett! You are flirting with death!” “Enough, Mom!” Bennett roared. “Uncle Mark was an accident. My cousin had an undiagnosed heart condition. It has nothing to do with some backwoods ritual marriage!” He pointed a finger at me, laughing mockingly. “This ‘curse’ is a scam designed specifically to milk the Caldwell estate. I look at her and I feel sick. If you force me to marry this con artist, I won’t wait for my birthday. I’ll end it right now.” In a flash of dramatic instability, Bennett pulled a pocketknife from his vest and pressed the blade against his own throat. Brooke let out a sharp gasp and dropped to her knees before Mrs. Caldwell, sobbing. “Please, just trust the science for once! I’ve had Bennett on a state-of-the-art biometric monitor for weeks. His vitals are perfect! Let us prove it to you. I spent years in med school specifically so I could protect him from this nonsense. Give him a chance to be free!” “Mom, if you don’t back down…” Bennett pressed harder. A thin line of crimson bloomed on his neck, staining the white silk tie I had picked out for him myself. “I agree! Stop!” Mrs. Caldwell screamed. She lunged forward, wrestling the knife away from him, then turned to me with eyes full of agonizing guilt. “Morgan… I’m so sorry…” “It’s okay,” I said, cutting her off. I forced a small, sharp smile. “I truly hope Brooke can break the ‘curse.’ It would be nice for the women in my family to finally be free of yours.” I turned and walked out. Behind me, Bennett’s voice followed, thick with disgust. “Good riddance, you gold-digging bitch! Don’t let the door hit you!” I ran until I hit the humid air of the parking lot. The second the heavy doors closed, I doubled over. Cough. A mouthful of thick, black blood splattered onto the pavement. I should have stayed at the sanctuary for a few more years of training. But three years ago, when Bennett first took my hand and told me he loved me, I believed him. I was young, and his devotion felt like a sun I wanted to bask in. Even then, I could feel the weakness in his marrow through his pulse. Because I loved him, I had knelt before my mentor for seven days and seven nights, begging for permission to leave the mountain early to save him. For three years, I had sustained his life by siphoning his darkness into my own body, enduring the sensation of my internal organs being slowly ground to dust every single night. I thought it was a sacrifice for the man I’d spend my life with. I didn’t realize that his “love” was just a game—a cheap thrill to see if he could bed the “mystic girl” before he threw her away. I wiped the blood from my chin and ignored the stabbing pain in my chest. I just wanted to go home and sleep. But when I reached my apartment, the world shifted under my feet. The hallway was covered in red spray paint: SCAMMER. WITCH. SLUT. My front door was hanging off its hinges. Smoke billowed out. My sanctuary, the place I had carefully curated for three years, was being consumed by a roaring fire. 2 Inside that apartment were the journals and talismans I had spent years writing, using my own blood to anchor the protection spells that kept Bennett alive. I lost my mind. I sprinted toward the flames, desperate to save the only things that proved my sacrifice. But I only made it one step inside before a tongue of fire licked across my arm. The skin hissed and peeled away, exposing raw, weeping flesh. The salt from my tears hit the burn, and I screamed. “A little dramatic, don’t you think?” I spun around. Bennett was standing at the end of the hall, Brooke tucked under his arm. He was looking at my charred, bloody arm with a smirk. “Oh, I thought you were some kind of immortal goddess. Do you actually feel pain like the rest of us?” “Bennett, why?” I gasped, clutching my arm. “Everything in there… if those are gone, you don’t have a chance!” “Enough!” Bennett stepped forward and grabbed my throat, slamming me against the soot-covered wall. “Stop talking about your voodoo bullshit! It’s pathetic! I’m not just burning your toys, Morgan. I’m going to make sure the whole world knows what a fraud you are.” Before I could breathe, a swarm of reporters and paparazzi flooded into the narrow hallway. Cameras flashed, blinding me. “Ms. Thorne, how much money did you embezzle from the Caldwells over the last three years?” “Is it true you used ‘curses’ to blackmail a dying man into an engagement?” “You’re a criminal! You should be in jail!” A woman in the crowd reached out and grabbed my burned arm, twisting the raw flesh. I collapsed to the floor, my vision blurring into white-hot agony. Kicks landed on my ribs, my stomach, my back. Bennett just watched, laughing as he led Brooke away. By that evening, I was the top trending topic on social media. [Caldwell Heir’s Ex-Fiancée Exposed as Occult Con Artist! Hundreds of thousands of dollars stolen through ‘superstition’!] [Science Wins: Dr. Brooke Stevens Breaks Century-Long ‘Family Curse’!] I stumbled through the streets in my charred, ruined wedding dress. I tried to go to a department store to buy something—anything—to cover myself, but my card was declined. The automated voice on the phone was cold. “Ms. Thorne, your accounts have been frozen pending a fraud investigation. Please contact your branch…” I reached into my pocket and found a few crumpled twenties. I tried to check into a cheap motel, but the woman behind the desk recognized me from the news and spat on my shoes. “We don’t rent to lying hags. Get out!” I hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours. My burns were beginning to fester. I felt the fever rising in my blood, a heavy, throbbing heat. I collapsed in an alleyway next to a dumpster, unable to take another step. Passersby who recognized me didn’t offer help. They threw trash. They poured old coffee on my wounds. I missed the mountains. I missed Arthur, my mentor. But I couldn’t leave yet. Tomorrow was Bennett’s birthday. When he had his hand on my throat, I had felt it. His pulse wasn’t just weak anymore. It was chaotic. Shattered. I needed to see the end. I dragged myself up, using the brick wall for support. I took one step, then another, before the world turned black and I pitched forward into the darkness. I woke up to the smell of dried sage and bitter herbs. I forced my eyes open, my body screaming in protest. Arthur was sitting beside me, his weathered hands carefully applying a poultice to my infected arm. “Arthur… I have to stay…” I wheezed. He looked at me with a heart-wrenching pity. “I know, child. You need to see the clock strike midnight.” He didn’t get to finish. The door to his small apothecary was kicked open with a violent crash. A dozen heavy-set men stormed in. They pinned me to the chair. The leader pulled a hunting knife from his belt and, without a word of warning, drove it straight into Arthur’s chest. 3 I let out a guttural scream and tried to lung toward him, but a hand clamped onto my hair and yanked me back. Bennett walked through the door, looking down at me with pure venom. “I wondered where you were hiding,” he said, stepping over Arthur’s slumped body. “So, this is the master puppeteer? The one who taught you how to bleed my family dry?” Bennett ground his heel into the wound in Arthur’s chest. Arthur gasped, blood bubbling at his lips. “Stop it! Let him go!” I sobbed, clawing at the floor. “He saved your life! You wouldn’t even be breathing right now if it weren’t for him!” Bennett leaned down, a cruel, twisted smile on his face. “Tell you what. I’ll give the old man a chance.” He pulled out his phone and shoved it in my face. “Record a video. Admit you’re a fraud. Tell the world you made up the curse to steal my money. Do it, and I’ll call an ambulance.” “Morgan, don’t…” Arthur shook his head, his eyes clouded with pain. Bennett didn’t hesitate. He pulled the knife out of Arthur’s chest and jammed it into the side of his neck, near the artery. A spray of hot, metallic blood hit my face. “Okay! Okay, I’ll do it! Just stop!” Bennett got his video. He was satisfied. Finally, he allowed his men to haul Arthur toward the hospital. When we arrived at the ER, a nurse rushed out, shoving a stack of paperwork into my hands. “He’s in critical condition! We need a deposit for the surgery immediately!” I froze. “My cards… they’re frozen. Please, he’s dying.” “Move it, honey! If we don’t get him into the OR now, he’s gone!” the nurse barked. I turned to Bennett. He was standing by the entrance, Brooke’s arm draped over his shoulder. “Bennett, please. You have the money. Pay the deposit. I did what you asked.” He laughed, a hollow, mocking sound. “Oh, you want a favor? You’ve been robbing my family for a hundred years, Morgan. A video doesn’t settle that debt. Get on your knees. Apologize to me and my ancestors.” I looked at Arthur, who was turning a terrifying shade of gray on the gurney. I didn’t care about my pride anymore. I dropped to the linoleum floor. “I’m sorry. I lied to you. Please, save him.” Brooke stepped forward, her voice sweet and poisonous. “An apology isn’t enough, sweetie. You need to beg. Properly. Give us a hundred kowtows. Let’s see that ‘spiritual’ devotion.” “You heard her,” Bennett said. “One hundred. Or he bleeds out right here.” I slammed my forehead against the hard floor. One. Two. The skin on my forehead broke. Blood ran into my eyes, blurring my vision. I lost sensation in my limbs. I just kept hitting the floor until I reached a hundred. I looked up, my head spinning. “There. Now pay. Please.” “Sure,” Bennett said with a shrug. “Let me just run home and grab my checkbook. I’ll be back.” He turned to leave. I lunged forward, grabbing his ankle. “You’re doing this on purpose! Bennett, he’s dying now!” “Careful, Morgan. That’s not a very grateful tone. Do you want the money or not?” I let go, my strength failing. “Please… just hurry.” Bennett returned an hour later. He tossed a receipt onto my lap. I scrambled to give it to the nurse, but she just looked at me with a heavy, tired sigh. “It’s too late. He’s gone. He went cold ten minutes ago.” The world stopped. I turned to Bennett, my vision tunneling into a red haze. I screamed, throwing a desperate, weak punch at his face. “You murderer! You did it on purpose! I’ll kill you!” Bennett caught my wrist effortlessly. His eyes were cold. “Kill me? You should worry about yourself. Now that you’ve confessed to being a fraud on video, let’s talk about restitution.” He threw a thick stack of invoices at my feet. “My family has supported yours for a century. Since you admitted it was all a scam, you owe us every cent back. With interest.” He waved his phone. “If you don’t pay, this video goes to the police. And I won’t just stop with you. I’ll go after your entire ‘clan.’ Every single one of them.” I gritted my teeth, my voice a jagged whisper. “I’ll pay. Just wait until after your birthday tomorrow. I’ll give you everything you’re owed.”

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Twenty years after my husband, Chris, supposedly had a vasectomy to support our child-free lifestyle, I found myself staring at a positive pregnancy test. I thought it was a miracle—a late-blooming gift from the universe. But then I found the truth. Chris didn’t just have a secret; he had an entire second life. He had a family on the other side of town, and a son with leukemia who desperately needed a bone marrow match. My “miracle” pregnancy wasn’t a gift to me; it was a biological harvest Chris had planned to save his other woman’s child. The shock sent me into a physical collapse. When I woke up in the hospital, my world felt like it had been razed to the ground. “I’m terminating it,” I whispered, the words tasting like ash. “I want this out of me. Now.” Chris didn’t yell. He didn’t even look me in the eye. He simply had the nurses restrain me to the bed “for my own safety.” Then came the vultures. My mother-in-law and the doctor stood over me, their voices a synchronized drone of manipulation. “It’s a life, Evelyn! Think of the karma,” his mother pleaded, her eyes cold despite the tears she forced. “Chris’s son is your son, too! This baby is already here; how can you be so heartless? If you hadn’t been so stubborn about your ‘career’ and your ‘independence’ all these years, none of this would have happened. Chris was backed into a corner…” I stopped fighting the restraints. I looked at Chris, whose eyes were red-rimmed. I thought it was guilt. I was wrong. “Go have another child with her then,” I said, my voice dead. “I’ll pay for it. Whatever the treatment costs, I’ll sign the check. Just let me go.” A flicker of disappointment, then something sharper—pity—crossed his face. “I tried,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “Jade… she’s had several miscarriages trying to give me a son. She can’t carry anymore. Her body is spent.” He leaned in closer, his shadow swallowing me. “The doctors say a half-sibling has a twenty-five percent chance of a perfect match. Evelyn, please. If you save my son, I’ll give you anything. Anything you want.” I turned my face toward the sterile white wall. The chill in my bones felt permanent. “I want a divorce. I’m leaving this hospital in a week, and I expect you to meet me at the lawyer’s office.” … My mother-in-law’s blood pressure must have hit the ceiling. she lunged forward as if to strike me, but Chris caught her arm. His brow furrowed, his jaw setting into that stubborn line I used to mistake for strength. “No,” he said firmly. “I won’t divorce you. Don’t even dream of it.” I let out a jagged laugh. We had been married for two decades; he knew that look on my face. He knew I was done. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed, his tone softening into that patronizing “reasonable man” voice he used in boardrooms. “Evie, we’ve spent half our lives together. Imagine the scandal. Do you really want to be the woman who blows up her life at forty-five?” “I know you feel slighted,” he continued. “But Jade… she’s not like you. She didn’t grow up with a silver spoon. She didn’t have your education or your family’s connections. She’s just a girl who gave me a son. It wasn’t easy for her. If you need someone to blame, blame me. But the boy is innocent. Don’t you see how cruel you’re being by holding this over me?” Cruel. The word felt like a slap. I touched my stomach, my mind drifting back twenty years. Back then, Chris was the one talking about the unfairness of fate. He was the brilliant, broke scholarship student my father had sponsored. I remember the day he lost a major contract—he had been standing in the pouring rain, begging for a chance to pitch. I was the one who held the umbrella over him and brought him home. A fallen genius. A man of integrity. Unyielding will. To the heiress of the Montgomery estate, he was a romantic tragedy I was desperate to rewrite. Naturally, he became the Montgomery son-in-law. His life became a series of wins. Back then, I never wanted to be child-free. I was obsessed with him; I wanted a little piece of us to carry on. When I first got pregnant, Chris cried with joy. “But Chris,” I had told him, “my parents want the first child to carry the Montgomery name. After that, we can have as many as you want. What do you think?” A shadow had passed over his face, so brief I thought I imagined it. “Evie, are you sure you’re ready to be a mother?” he had asked, his voice dripping with faux-concern. “I just… I don’t want to see you suffer. It would break my heart.” I was so moved. I told him I wasn’t afraid. But the pregnancy was a nightmare. I couldn’t keep anything down. Two weeks later, I was doubled over in pain. Chris went frantic, rushing me to the ER, but we lost the baby anyway. He stayed by my side all night. The next morning, he was sobbing, hitting his own forehead. “It’s my fault. I put you through this. No more, Evie. Let’s just be us. We’ll be ‘DINKs.’ I can’t lose you.” I insisted I was willing to try again, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He said I had already given him enough, that I was his whole world. To prove his devotion, he told me he went to the clinic for a vasectomy that same week. For twenty years, he was the model husband, always “careful,” always protecting my health. Even his parents seemed to accept it, never pressuring me for an heir. They even bought us a Border Collie, Lucky, telling us to treat him like our son. I was so naive. I thought he had fought his traditional parents for me. Hearing his mother’s vitriol now, I finally understood. He didn’t want no children; he just didn’t want my children. Being the “sponsored” son-in-law was the thorn in his side. Letting a child carry my family name was the ultimate emasculation to him. He had orchestrated everything. I was the engine that drove his career, the bank that funded his lifestyle. And Jade? She was the quiet harbor where he could be the “provider,” the man whose name would be passed down. Now that my parents were dead and I had no family left to protect me, he was ready to use me one last time. He wanted me to endure a high-risk pregnancy just to provide spare parts for his “real” legacy. The humilation burned like acid. “The boy is innocent?” I spat. “To save your secret son, you’re willing to risk my life and the life of this baby. Tell me, Chris—who’s the cruel one here?” Chris flinched. “It’s not like that. I’ll hire the best doctors in the country. You always wanted a child, didn’t you? Why can’t you look at the bright side? You’ll both be fine, and then we can all be a family.” I looked at him, truly seeing the stranger he had become. “A family? You mean a harem? You expect me to live in some twisted sister-wife arrangement?” Chris walked toward the door, his voice heavy with a self-righteous burden. “Jade has never wanted to take anything from you. I still love you, Evelyn. You will always be my wife. But you need to be the bigger person here. This baby stays.” He left the room, posting two private security guards at my door. They weren’t there to protect me; they were there to ensure I didn’t find a way to a clinic. I didn’t waste another second. I picked up the phone and dialed my lawyer. “Lee, if he refuses to sign, what are my options?” He gave me a direct answer. There was a way out, but I had to wait a week for the paperwork to be ironed out. The next day, Chris didn’t show up. Lee, who has a reach as long as his career, sent me photos. Chris was with Jade. He must have told her the news. In the video clip, Jade was weeping with joy, throwing her arms around Chris in a crowded cafe. I shut the screen, unable to watch. I tried to distract myself with social media, but then I saw my mother-in-law’s profile. The “sweet, traditional” woman had undergone a personality transplant. She had posted a flood of videos featuring a young boy—her “beloved grandson.” I realized then that every holiday Chris was “working late,” he was actually with them. Her latest post was a video of her crying to the camera, calling me the “most wicked daughter-in-law in history.” She had even photoshopped my face onto a funeral portrait. She told her followers that I was an ungrateful woman who was refusing to save her dying grandson out of spite. The comments were a bloodbath. Strangers were calling for my head, calling me a monster, a “barren ice queen.” Thinking of my late parents—who had loved Chris like a son—my rage boiled over. I commented directly: “He isn’t my son. Why is his life my responsibility?” She replied instantly: “How heartless! Is this what a mother says?” My DMs exploded. I threw the phone across the room, shaking. But she wasn’t done. She sent me a voice note, her voice a shrill hiss: “You’re evil! I said nothing but the truth! A husband is your king, and his child is yours! It’s your duty to save him! If you hadn’t nagged Chris into that surgery, he wouldn’t have had to go elsewhere for a family! This is your fault! My poor grandson is suffering because of your ego!” I couldn’t listen anymore. The pregnancy hormones made it impossible to stop the tears. The whole world was telling me I was a criminal for not wanting to be a human incubator for a mistress’s child. A bowl of chicken soup appeared in my field of vision. Chris was back, looking disheveled. He reached out to wipe a tear from my cheek. “You’re still the same,” he murmured. “Always crying when you’re pregnant.” The memory hit me like a physical blow. Twenty years ago, when I was throwing up everything, he had learned to make this exact soup. I had forced myself to eat it, touched by his devotion. I remembered the night before my miscarriage. He had looked at me with such hesitation. I had asked him what was wrong, and he had just pulled me into his arms and sobbed, “I’m so sorry I’m making you suffer. We don’t need a baby. Just you and me.” I thought he was a fool who loved me too much. But I was the fool. His “devotion” was guilt. He hadn’t been worried about my health; he had been struggling with the fact that he was actively sabotaging our child because of a bruised ego over a surname. I looked at the man I had loved for two decades and realized I had never known him at all. “Chris,” I whispered, “why didn’t you just talk to me? My parents just wanted the first one to have our name. We could have had three more. I gave you everything—my life, my money, my family’s legacy. And you couldn’t even give me the truth?” I slapped the bowl of soup out of his hand. It shattered against the floor. “I’m going to make you lose everything, Chris. Just wait a week.” His face darkened. “What the hell is wrong with you?” A slender woman rushed into the room, frantically trying to clean up the mess. “Chris, don’t be angry. It’s my fault. The soup probably didn’t smell right to Evelyn.” I froze. It wasn’t Chris coming to see me. It was the two of them, putting on a show of “kindness.” Jade was beautiful in a fragile, wilted sort of way. Looking at her, I felt ancient. My youth had been spent building an empire Chris now sat upon. I didn’t have that “damsel in distress” look. Chris didn’t even look at me. He was too busy checking Jade’s hands for burns. When she winced, he looked like someone had stabbed him. “I’m fine, Chris,” she whispered, her eyes darting toward me. “Evelyn’s health is what matters.” She gestured toward the door. A small, pale boy with a shaved head walked in. “Noah, come here. Say hello to Mrs. Bennett.” The boy looked sullen. Jade led him to my bedside and, before I could react, she took his small, cold hand and pressed it against my stomach. “Noah, feel that? There’s a little brother in there. He’s going to save you. Just a few more months, and the pain will go away.” Her words were like poisoned needles. Even if I kept this baby, you can’t take bone marrow from a newborn. She was talking about an experimental cord blood procedure—or worse. She was looking at my child as a medical resource. I looked at Chris. He was smiling at them, a look of pure paternal pride on his face. He didn’t see anything wrong with what she said. “Chris… are you planning an eye for an eye?” I asked. “What if the match fails? What if I refuse to go through with it?” Chris’s expression turned to stone. “There is no ‘if.’ This is happening.” “I have a heart condition, Chris! A high-risk pregnancy at my age could kill me! And I will never let my child be a sacrifice for anyone!” “This child,” I pointed at the boy, “is not my problem. His illness is the result of your lies!” “Shut up!” Chris roared, slamming a glass against the nightstand. His eyes were wild. He immediately turned back to Jade, pulling her and the boy into a protective embrace. Jade sobbed into his shoulder, covering the boy’s ears. “Chris, it’s my fault,” she wailed. “I’m useless. I couldn’t give you a healthy son. Evelyn has every right to hate me, but Noah is just a child! If I could take his place, I would… I just wanted her to have some nutrients. I see now… you were just trying to spare my feelings because she said no. It’s okay, Chris. This is just our fate…” The “soft” attack worked instantly. Chris looked more panicked than I’d ever seen him. “Jade, listen to me. I won’t let anything happen to Noah. I promise. I love you both. We’re going to Europe after this, remember? I have the money, I have the power. Not even God is taking my son from me!” He had forgotten one thing. The money and the power? They were mine. “Let’s stop the theater, Chris,” I said, my voice cold as a grave. “Sign the papers and let’s end this.” Chris ignored me. He moved Jade and Noah into a VIP suite down the hall and came back to my room. “Don’t ever speak like that in front of Jade again,” he warned. “She blames herself enough. And for the last time, I am not divorcing you. Everyone knows I am where I am because of your father. I’m grateful for that. But look at any man in my position—we all have someone on the side. I’m telling you, you will always be my wife. Isn’t that enough?” “A seat at the table you stole from me?” I mocked. The boy I loved was gone. In his place was a narcissist who thought he was doing me a favor by letting me keep my title. From the moment my parents died, he had dropped the mask. He had cried louder than me at the funeral, posing for the cameras. A month later, he had maneuvered through my father’s old connections and diluted my shares in the company before I could even process my grief. He told me it was to “protect me from the stress.” The next day, I stood by the window, clutching the divorce papers Lee had smuggled in. I was rehearsing my final words. A tug on my sleeve broke my concentration. It was Noah. “Ma’am? Dad took Mom out for a walk. He said you were supposed to stay with me while I did my treatment.” I looked out the window. Chris was leading Jade toward the garden. The boy looked so small, so fragile. I felt a flicker of pity. Back in the ward, Noah whimpered in pain, begging for some candy from the gift shop downstairs. My heart softened. I told him I’d be right back. But when I returned five minutes later, the bathroom door was open. Noah was standing under a freezing cold shower, fully clothed, sobbing into a video call with Jade. “Mom, I’m so cold! Mrs. Bennett told me the cold water would make me stronger, but it hurts!” I dropped the candy. I rushed in to wrap him in a towel, but it was too late. Within minutes, Chris and Jade burst in. Noah threw himself into Jade’s arms, shivering. “Mom, I was brave! Mrs. Bennett gave me candy for doing it!” He looked at me with those wide, innocent-looking eyes. “Dad, don’t be mad at her. I’m a big boy.” Jade dropped to her knees, sobbing and banging her head on the floor. “Evelyn, I’m sorry! Hit me instead! The boy is innocent! If you don’t want to save him, fine, but please don’t hurt him! He has no immune system; the cold will kill him!” I reached out to pull her up, but Chris lunged forward. He shoved me back so hard I hit the wall, and then he backhanded me across the face. The world went silent. My ears rang. “I told you it was my fault!” Chris screamed. “Why would you take it out on a child? You want to end my bloodline that badly?” I held my burning cheek, my stomach tightening in a cramp. “He did it himself. I didn’t touch him!” “I don’t want to hear your lies! Apologize to Jade and Noah. Now!” He gathered his “real” family. There was no room for me in that circle. I started to laugh. It was a jagged, hysterical sound. I pulled out a document—the one Chris had left for me to sign regarding the bone marrow compatibility tests. I flipped to the last page. “Fine. You want the tests done the second this baby is viable? I agree. Sign it.” Chris, blinded by rage and disgust, didn’t even look at the header. He scribbled his name and threw the pen at me. “You should have done this from the start! If anything happens to Noah, I’m done with you!” I walked out of the room, clutching the paper. It wasn’t a medical consent form. Lee had swapped it. It was a binding, no-contest divorce settlement and a full transfer of the remaining Montgomery assets Chris had tried to hide. “Chris,” I said, stopping at the door. “Do you remember how I haven’t touched cold water since the miscarriage?” He didn’t look up. He didn’t follow me. I left a copy of the actual divorce papers on my hospital bed and went straight to the airport. As the plane took off, my phone lit up with dozens of missed calls. A flight attendant kindly helped me answer one. Chris’s voice came through, sounding like a terrified child. “Evie? Evie, I’m sorry. Where are you…”

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When I was 18, Shadowblade Pack was attacked by Rogues and suffered heavy losses. My brother Liam—Shadowblade Pack’s young Alpha—set out alone on the path of revenge. Before leaving, he entrusted me to a friend in another pack, since my wolf had fallen into a deep sleep due to injuries. The first time we met, Alpha Nathan couldn’t take his eyes off me. From that day on, I worked as his assistant at his company during the day. At night, I was his most intimate bedmate. For four whole years, he never told anyone about our relationship. His explanation was that he worried enemies would hurt me if they knew I existed. But four years later, his former Mate returned to the pack, and he rushed to greet her. Just an hour earlier, he’d been kissing me in my bed. Now he held another woman in his arms right in front of me: “Chloe, four years ago you were the one who crawled into my bed while I was drunk.” “Acting so unreasonable now is really pointless.” The way he looked at her was so tender, while his mockery toward me was especially earnest. Enduring the pain, I contacted my brother Liam, who had long since completed his revenge. I told Liam I was willing to marry Darkclaw Pack’s Alpha. Then I looked up and smiled at Nathan: “Fine then. Goodbye.”

Liam replied quickly. He was relieved that I’d finally let go of the mysterious man I’d liked for years. A year ago when Liam completed his revenge and called me back to his side, I’d used that as an excuse to refuse him. To this day, Liam doesn’t know that the person who made me suffer so much in love is his best friend—Nathan. After ending the call, the next thing I needed to handle was the mark Nathan had left on me in bed. It wasn’t a formal mark, after all we’d never held a bonding ceremony. Black market witches had ways to solve all kinds of problems, so I found one and paid her a large sum of money. In the end, I obtained an ancient contract. The witch told me, “Have him sign his true name here. When the ink dries, the mark’s connection will be severed. But remember, he must sign willingly. Any coercion will cause the contract to backfire on you.” Holding the contract, I felt a deep pain in my chest. Nathan. Him again. Even my final departure couldn’t avoid him. I gripped my phone tightly and walked to the end of an empty corridor to dial that familiar number. The phone rang for a long time. Just when I thought no one would answer, the call connected. A strange, satisfied and lazy female voice came through: “Hello? Looking for Nathan? He’s in my bed right now… worn out and asleep. Do you need me to wake him?” Nathan, in her bed. Those words pierced my heart like needles laced with wolfsbane, densely packed. So I hadn’t been heartbroken about leaving him just now. It was his betrayal that brought me pain. Yet my voice was exceptionally steady: “No need. Thank you.” Without waiting for her response, I hung up directly. The phone screen darkened, reflecting my bloodless face. But less than two minutes later, the phone vibrated urgently again. I stared at Nathan’s name for a few seconds before swiping to answer. “Did you need something?” On the phone, his voice carried a businesslike coldness. But just last night, he’d been pressed against me, calling my name over and over. I gripped the contract tightly, my knuckles turning white: “Nathan, there’s a document that needs your signature.” Nathan made an acknowledging sound, then seemed to remember something and said: “Oh, and go back to the house later. Pack up all your things, she’s moving in. But I have an empty apartment in the western suburbs—you can move there. After all, I promised Liam I’d take care of you.” Four years ago, he drunkenly pulled me into bed and gave me the status of “bedmate.” Four years later, he’s giving me a place to live in the name of being a good friend. His thoughtful handling of the situation seemed both laughable and utterly meaningless. I smiled: “No need, Nathan. I can take care of myself.” Besides, once he released the mark on me, these absurd four years would all be over.

I kept my eyes open until dawn in my temporary lodging, yet I felt more clearheaded than any morning I’d woken up beside Nathan. I called a car to return to the villa I’d lived in for four years. The moment I pushed open the door, the searing pain in my chest nearly consumed me. My favorite cup from the coffee table had been thrown in the trash. On the sofa I’d carefully selected lay a woman’s underwear and dress. The white stains on the underwear made it clear what had happened last night. “Sophia likes it this way.” Nathan’s voice came from behind me. Seeing me look at him, a trace of distress crossed his face. “She came over yesterday and wasn’t happy seeing your things. She kept me up all night.” It wasn’t until he led me to the storage room that I understood what that sentence meant. In the corner, all my luggage was piled up like garbage. The jewelry Nathan had given me was shattered into pieces scattered on the floor. A pair of mugs we’d made together with our own hands lay smashed to bits. Nathan sighed. “They weren’t worth anything anyway. Throw them out. Whatever you need, I’ll buy you new ones.” Not worth anything? I looked at a password notebook on the floor, half-burned by fire. That was my diary. Ever since I came to Silvermoon Pack at 18, I’d recorded my feelings in that diary every day, hoping to show it to him someday after becoming his mate. But now, my heart was as destroyed as that burned heart I’d drawn in the diary. I silently threw all this garbage into the trash bin. Nathan’s brow furrowed instantly. But I smiled: “You’re right. Worthless things that get dirty or broken should be thrown away.” Including my foolish, ill-timed feelings. I no longer looked at his suddenly ugly expression, lowering my head to take out the contract I’d kept in my bag. “Nathan, please sign this…” Before I could finish, Nathan’s phone rang. Sophia’s voice was exceptionally clear in the quiet storage room. “Nathan, I’m trapped at Moonlight Bar by some bad guys. Come get me quick.” The emotion on Nathan’s face vanished instantly. Without even looking at the document in my hands, he signed his name directly at the signature line. “Leave on your own. Send me a message when you get there.” After Nathan drove away, I didn’t linger for a moment either. The villa was halfway up a mountain where I couldn’t get a ride, so I had to walk down alone. On the way, Liam messaged me saying he had some things to handle and asking me to wait one more day. I replied okay, then booked a hotel nearby. However, just as I reached the foot of the mountain, a figure suddenly rushed out from the shadows of the nearby trees, reeking of alcohol. It was clearly someone who’d drunk too much. Before I could react, he lunged at me. One hand roughly grabbed my shoulder while the other tried to cover my mouth. “Little beauty, all alone? Keep me company…” His strength was too much. I was knocked to the ground. His drunk body pressed down hard on me, his alcohol-stinking mouth trying to force itself on me. “Get off!” I drove my elbow hard into his ribs while simultaneously slamming my forehead into his nose. “Aaaah—!” He let out a scream, curling up while clutching himself. I quickly scrambled up, clutching the bag with the contract tightly. The drunk lifted his head, face covered in blood, looking at me with eyes full of disbelief and shock. “No… impossible… your wolf, Shadowblade’s Chloe, your wolf has been asleep for so long, hasn’t it? How could you… have this kind of strength?!” He stumbled to his feet and fled quickly. Only after his figure completely disappeared did I finally breathe a sigh of relief. My knees and elbows burned with pain—scrapes from struggling and falling earlier. He was right. My wolf had been in a deep sleep due to serious injuries for a long time, only recently beginning to awaken. But very few people knew about this. I didn’t know who told him, but my instinct told me it was related to Sophia. So I sent Sophia a message. [If there’s a next time, I’ll bite through your throat.]

After the contract took effect and the mate bond was severed, I felt an emptiness inside, but more than that, relief. After all, I would no longer feel pain when Nathan slept with someone else. Now I just needed to wait for Liam to come get me and take me home. But in the middle of the night, I received a message from Nathan: [Get to Moonlight Bar now!] He seemed very angry. Nathan was Silvermoon Pack’s Alpha after all. If I offended him, it wouldn’t be easy for me to leave here. After thinking it over, I decided to go see what this was about. When I walked into the bar’s private room, Sophia was draped over Nathan, sobbing with teary eyes while Nathan gently comforted her. Over the past four years when I suffered because my wolf was asleep, he’d only frowned and told me: as Alpha Liam’s sister, I shouldn’t be so fragile. But ridiculously, I had once completely agreed with that statement. I had no interest in watching their performance of this deep affection act, so I interrupted coldly: “Nathan, what did you need from me?” Nathan looked at me with an expression I’d never seen before, then questioned: “Why did you send a threatening message to Sophia?” I paused, then frowned slightly. “That’s not it, she was the one who sent people…” Before I could finish, Sophia turned to look at me and suddenly spoke. “You’re… Alpha Liam’s sister?” Immediately after, Sophia slapped me across the face. My ears rang and my cheek swelled rapidly. Nathan shot to his feet, shock in his voice. “Sophia, what are you doing?” But the woman’s eyes instantly reddened as she pointed at me and cried to Nathan: “Shadowblade Alpha’s sister! She’s the one who sent people to bully me, warning me to stay away from you! Those people said so themselves! You said you’d get justice for me! Or can’t you bear to punish her?” The air froze instantly. Nathan’s complex gaze flashed across me, then he gently pulled Sophia into his arms, helping wipe away her tears. His tone held some helplessness mixed with obvious indulgence. “I’m not reluctant. I just thought I should ask clearly first. After all, you’re the most important person to me.” A flash of triumph crossed Sophia’s face. She nestled into Nathan’s embrace and said coquettishly: “Then punish her, make her apologize to me!” Nathan’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, as if hesitating for a moment. Seeing this, Sophia pointed at the alcohol on the table: “Make her serve as my waitress!” Nathan looked at me and said coldly: “Chloe, come pour Sophia a drink!” I didn’t know what they were talking about and didn’t want to argue. I just wanted to leave here as quickly as possible. So I silently poured Sophia a drink and handed it to her. Sophia took the drink, sipped it, then suddenly clutched her chest and pointed at the glass, screaming: “Nathan! This drink… there’s poison in this drink! She’s trying to poison me!” Nathan’s expression changed drastically. He supported Sophia with one hand and pushed me back with the other: “Chloe! You dared to poison her?!” I fell to the ground, shards from the glass cutting my arm. Before I could explain, Nathan called his Beta James over. “Chloe dared to poison Sophia. Lock her up right now and don’t let her eat until we confirm Sophia is okay!” Beta James quickly glanced at my disheveled state and said cautiously: “But Alpha Liam has already contacted us…” Before Beta James could finish, Sophia suddenly cried out in pain. “Nathan, if you’re going to protect this person so much, then I’m leaving and never coming back!” Nathan’s pupils constricted. Ignoring whatever Beta James had said, he held Sophia tightly. “Sophia, don’t!” His ice-cold gaze cut into me like a knife, his aura almost murderous: “Chloe, if there’s a next time, get out! Even if Liam himself comes to beg, it won’t help!”

My wolf paced angrily in my mind, but I was leaving soon and didn’t want trouble. I suppressed her, my voice unusually calm: “Don’t worry, I won’t.” Nathan seemed unprepared for this answer. He clearly froze, then withdrew his power. He said nothing more, sweeping Sophia up in his arms. “Let’s go to the hospital.” His gaze swept over my blood-covered arm, his frown deepening. “You come too!” I followed silently. Not because I needed treatment, but because I wanted to figure out whether Sophia had actually been poisoned. Sitting in the back seat, Nathan messaged me: [I was too anxious earlier, but I’ve already lost Sophia once. I can’t lose her a second time.] [If you’re angry, I’ll make it up to you.] I looked at those words, then at Nathan in the front seat fussing over Sophia, and found it laughably absurd. He still hadn’t even noticed that the connection between us had been severed. I looked at my phone coldly and urged my brother to come get me. The next second, a friend request from my arranged marriage partner popped up on the screen. Mason… come to think of it, I’d met him once before. Taking a deep breath, I accepted. The car stopped at the hospital emergency entrance. Just as I pushed open the door, a car suddenly sped toward us from the side. Nathan almost instinctively pulled Sophia into his arms to protect her. I stumbled from the motion and fell into a nearby flower bed. When I got up, I saw Nathan rushing into the hospital with obvious concern, carrying Sophia whose hand had been scraped, even telling his Beta to get a specialist. “Miss, your arm is bleeding. You should get it bandaged quickly…” A stranger beside me handed me a clean handkerchief. I covered my wound, thanked them, and without hesitation walked to the roadside to hail a taxi. … Meanwhile, after Nathan settled Sophia, he remembered me, who’d also been injured. He got wound treatment ointment from a doctor and asked: “Where’s the other woman who came with me? Her name is Chloe. Which room is she in?” The doctor shook his head: “I’m sorry sir, we don’t have any patient registered under the name Chloe.” Nathan froze, his grip on the ointment tightening. He didn’t understand—where else could that woman have gone if not to the hospital, injured as she was? His phone rang. It was Liam. As soon as he answered, Liam’s furious roar burst through: “Nathan! Is this how you take care of my sister? You let her go back alone—do you know how dangerous that is?!” Nathan frowned, instinctively thinking I’d gone to Liam to tattle. His tone grew heavy with displeasure: “Is she with you? Put her on.” “Put her on my ass!” Liam glanced at me beside him, having arrived safely, his voice full of indignation: “If you want to make amends, Chloe’s getting married in two days. You’d better prepare a big gift!”

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My mother had my kidney taken for her adopted daughter, then let that same adopted daughter pull my father’s oxygen tube. I was thrown out of the house and ended up at a spa, massaging clients’ feet just to scrape together enough money to survive. Three years later, she tossed me two million dollars and told me to get lost, to stop bringing shame to the Sterling family. On the anniversary of my father’s death, I publicly released the security footage. The adopted daughter had pulled the tube with her own hands while my mother stood at the door, keeping watch for her. The adopted daughter collapsed on the floor and wet herself. My mother rushed over, threw her arms around my legs, and sobbed with tears streaming down her face. I kicked her away and threw that card in her face. “Two million. That should buy you two a decent life behind bars.” Sloane’s POV My mother, Lauren, personally carved out one of my kidneys so her adopted daughter could have a rosy complexion. My father was literally driven to death by rage. I became the person the Sterling family couldn’t avoid fast enough. To survive, I had no choice but to work as a massage therapist at a spa. In my third year of exile from the Sterling family, Lauren came to the spa and ordered the most expensive premium package. “Ma’am, is this pressure okay for you?” Crash! The teacup in Lauren’s hand shattered into pieces. My aunt, Grace, was about to start cursing when she caught sight of my face. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head as she shrieked. “Sloane? What are you doing here?” Lauren’s face went purple. She pointed at me, her finger trembling. “Sloane, what are you doing here? Did you do this on purpose?” I pressed the service timer on my wrist. “If you’re not satisfied with the service, you can request someone else. Though the hourly rate still applies.” Lauren shot to her feet. “Sloane, has the Sterling family starved you? Denied you anything? You’re here giving people massages? If people find out a Sterling daughter works as a massage therapist, what about Jasmine’s wedding prospects?” My mother didn’t ask why I was here. She only cared whether the adopted daughter’s reputation would be damaged. “Would you like to continue?” I pulled out a price list and held it directly under Lauren’s nose. “If not, please settle the bill. Also, since the teacup was damaged due to your own actions, you’ll need to pay compensation.” Lauren’s whole body shook with rage. She raised her hand to strike. I didn’t dodge or flinch. I just looked at her. “If that slap lands, tomorrow’s headline will read: ‘Mrs. Sterling Assaults Service Worker.’” Lauren’s hand froze in mid-air. Service staff around us were already craning their necks to look. Grace tugged at her awkwardly from the side. “Lauren, forget it, forget it. Don’t stoop to her level. People will laugh.” “Since you don’t want to see me, how about a membership package?” I pulled a POS machine from my uniform pocket and handed it to Lauren. “Supreme Imperial Card. Deposit two million, and from now on you can specify that I stay five hundred meters away from you at all times.” Lauren’s eyes went wide. “Two million? Sloane, what do you need that much money for?” I expertly entered the amount. “If you don’t want the Carter family knowing I have this kind of job, consider the two million hush money. Mom, surely your reputation is worth more than two million?” Lauren stared at me with complicated eyes. After several seconds of standoff, Lauren backed down. Transaction approved. I tore off the receipt, handed it over with both hands, and even performed a standard bow. “Thank you for your patronage. We look forward to serving you again.” Lauren looked like she wanted to say more, but I had already turned and left the room without looking back. Looking at the receipt in my hand, I silently calculated. The commission from this transaction should be enough for Emma Peach’s surgery, right? As for dignity? That thing wasn’t worth a damn compared to a poor person’s life. The rain was heavy. I stood at the roadside bus stop, soaked to the bone. A black stretch car pulled out from the spa, its wheels running through a puddle. Muddy water splashed all over me. The window rolled down, revealing the anxious face of our family butler, James Carter. “Miss Sterling, it’s pouring! Get in the car!” I wiped the muddy water from my face. So Lauren was specifically waiting for me to get off work? This area was remote. Without adding a surcharge, getting a cab was basically impossible. To save the few dozen dollars in nighttime fees, I opened the door and got in. The car interior was warm with heating, filled with a faint fragrance. It was Lauren’s favorite scent diffuser. A thousand dollars per gram. “Miss Sterling, please dry off.” James handed me a towel. “Don’t call me Miss Sterling anymore.” From the other side of the back seat, Lauren spoke with her eyes closed, her voice carrying disappointment. “Someone so depraved doesn’t deserve that title.” James froze awkwardly in place. Three years ago, Lauren brought home Jasmine Sterling. She said Jasmine was in poor health and the whole family needed to pamper her. From that day on, I became invisible in that house. If Jasmine coughed once, the whole family would panic. But when I ran a high fever, I could only boil water and take medicine myself. Lauren didn’t need a daughter. She needed a pet who knew how to act cute and satisfy her vanity. I tossed the towel aside and turned to look out the window. “James, Mrs. Sterling isn’t wrong. I really don’t deserve it.” Lauren’s eyes snapped open, complex emotions flickering in them. “Are you trying to kill me with anger? You won’t study properly and insist on doing this shameful work! Look at Jasmine. She’s accomplished in every skill. Now look at yourself. What do you look like?” I said nothing. Accomplished in every skill? That kind of accomplishment cost money. My card had been frozen three years ago. I paid tuition through scholarships. The car entered the slums. The road was full of potholes. Harsh scraping sounds came from the undercarriage. Lauren covered her nose, looking at the filthy streets outside and the crumbling abandoned buildings. She frowned. “Stop the car!” Before the car had fully stopped, Lauren started shrieking. “You live in this pigsty? Sloane Sterling, are you doing this deliberately? Trying to make people say I abuse you?” I pushed open the car door. Rain was still falling outside. I lived here because it was close to the dialysis hospital. Rent was only two hundred dollars. “If you think so, then sure.” “Impossible! Absolutely impossible! Drive!” The car spewed exhaust and fled like it was escaping for its life. I stood at the mouth of the dark alley, watching those two red taillights disappear. I looked down at my mud-spattered shoes. A pigsty? Maybe so. But in this pigsty, at least nobody wanted to steal my kidney.

Sloane’s POV Back at my rental room, I threw my wet clothes into a basin. My phone screen lit up. A friend request notification appeared. It was from Lauren. I approved it. The next second, a transfer notification sounded. “Peace and Tranquility has sent you $20,000” Immediately followed by a voice message. “Take the money. Go look at apartments and find a new place. Next week is your father’s death anniversary. Come back and pay respects. Jasmine’s health hasn’t been good lately-she can’t handle stress. When you come back, keep your mouth shut. Don’t say anything sarcastic.” My finger hovered over the screen. Death anniversary. Poor health. Those words were like bullets, instantly piercing through my psychological defenses. Thunder crashed outside the window. My hand jerked and the phone fell to the floor. The hideous scar on my waist suddenly began to throb with phantom pain, like someone was stirring inside with a rusty knife. I curled up on the moldy single bed, cold sweat instantly soaking through my clothes. “Sloane, drink this. It’s good for you.” In my dream, Lauren held a bowl of soup, a rare loving smile on her face. “Mom knows you’re tired from studying. I made this especially for you.” It was the only warmth I’d received in this lifetime. Overwhelmed with gratitude, I drank the entire bowl in one go. When I woke again, I was in a private room at a private hospital. My waist was wrapped in gauze. The pain was suffocating. Lauren stood by the bed holding Jasmine’s hand, her face full of satisfaction. “That’s wonderful, Jasmine. With this kidney, your complexion will be even rosier. You won’t have to worry about kidney problems anymore.” Jasmine lay on another bed, cooing sweetly. “Thank you, Mommy. Sister’s kidney works so well.” I tried to scream, but my throat couldn’t make a sound. Jasmine didn’t even have severe kidney failure. She just wasn’t perfectly healthy. It wasn’t anywhere near life-threatening. They’d cut out my kidney simply because Jasmine didn’t want to live with illness anymore! The scene shifted. My father, Richard Sterling, held that stack of so-called donation agreements. His whole body trembled with rage as he charged into the bedroom to confront Lauren. “This is a crime! She’s your own daughter!” But Lauren just sneered. “Own daughter? Only Jasmine is my child! Sloane Sterling, that waste-losing one kidney won’t kill her!” Jasmine cried on the side, tears streaming down her face. Suddenly she fainted. Lauren shrieked and shoved Richard. “What are you yelling for! You scared Jasmine! If Jasmine develops psychological trauma because of you, I’ll fight you to the death!” Richard clutched his chest and slowly collapsed. His medication was right there on the table, but Lauren didn’t even glance at it. She only cared about helping the fake-fainting Jasmine. “Dad!!!” I bolted upright in bed, gasping for breath. The room was deathly silent except for the rain outside. I touched my face. It was covered in cold sweat and tears. The scar at my waist still throbbed with dull pain, constantly reminding me-that wasn’t a dream. That was the blood-soaked truth from three years ago. My biological mother, for the sake of an adopted daughter, cut out my kidney and drove my father to death. And now she had the nerve to ask me to come back and kowtow? And to make sure I didn’t upset Jasmine? I picked up the phone from the floor. The screen had a cracked corner, reflecting my vicious expression. I opened the transfer and accepted the payment. No reason not to take it. I should go back for that kowtow. But not to apologize. To send them to their graves. During morning rush hour, the alley entrance was completely blocked. Lauren’s car sat crosswise there while neighbors pointed and cursed. James stood in the muddy water holding an umbrella, his face earnest. “Miss Sterling, Madam requests that you get in the car.” I looked at the rideshare app on my phone. 156 people in queue. I put away my phone and opened the car door to get in.

Sloane’s POV “James, sorry to trouble you. Take me to the hospital.” If Lauren wanted to play the ATM, I’d let her. The car door shut out the noise outside. The air conditioning was on full blast. That familiar scent hit me in the face. Lauren sat beside me, rubbing her knees and complaining. “This damn weather. Every time it rains my joints ache. It’s torture.” I didn’t respond. I’d lived in that cold, damp rental for three years. I was long used to the aching in my bones. Lauren didn’t expect me to show concern anyway. She pulled a stack of cash from her bag and tossed it on my lap. “This is last night’s tip. Consider it compensation.” Lauren’s tone was complicated. “Quit that degrading job. Even if you come home and do nothing, it’s better than working on your knees for strangers. The Sterling family can’t afford this humiliation.” I looked at the money on my lap. Brand new bills. The bank wrapper hadn’t even been removed. “Not enough.” I said flatly. “The spa has high penalty fees for breaking contract.” Lauren frowned, looking like she wanted to explode, but somehow held back. “I’ll have James transfer you the money! Also, I’m emphasizing this again-you must come back next week for your father’s death anniversary.” She paused, her tone reproachful. “He loved you most when he was alive. You haven’t come home in three years. Aren’t you afraid of breaking his heart?” I laughed. “Breaking his heart?” I turned my head and stared hard at Lauren. “His heart broke because he saw the murderer who killed him still playing the loving mother.” Lauren’s face went pale. “What are you talking about! That was just an accident!” “Whether it was an accident or not, you know in your heart.” My voice was very soft. “If you’re lonely, go find Jasmine. Even though she’s using my kidney, her mouth is sweeter than mine. After all, those who eat from others have soft mouths.” “You!” Lauren raised her hand in rage. Before the car fully stopped, I pulled open the door. James cried out and slammed on the brakes. I walked into the rain, stuffing that stack of cash into my pocket. I’ll take your money. But I won’t acknowledge a single bit of your sentiment. The rain soaked through my clothes. The surgical wound at my waist began to throb violently from the cold. That pain instantly pulled me back three years. The image of my father clutching his chest as he fell. Lauren’s face as she protected Jasmine, forcibly making excuses for her. Even now that woman thought this was just a simple family conflict. Dialysis center. This was the absolute center of my life. Also a money shredder. The ward reeked of disinfectant. Emma Peach had just finished dialysis. Her face was as white as paper, her hands covered in dense needle marks. Seeing me, Emma struggled to squeeze out a smile. “Sloane, has work been exhausting lately? Are you working lots of overtime?” She thought I worked in an office building with air conditioning. I set down the food I’d just bought on the bedside table, lying smoothly. “Not tired. The company just issued project bonuses. Pretty generous.” Emma’s eyes lit up briefly, then dimmed again. “That’s good… When I get better, let’s go see snow. I’ve lived this long and never seen real snow.” “Okay. We’ll go see snow.” I held her hand. That hand was ice cold, like holding a piece of ice about to melt. “The surgery fees are almost ready. Hang in there a little longer.” Emma nodded with a smile, but her eyelids drooped heavily. I walked out of the ward, my palms covered in sweat. Sweat from gripping the payment slip so hard. To keep this hope alive, forget massaging Lauren-I’d grind my dignity into the mud ten thousand times if necessary. “Family of bed 6, come here.” The billing window nurse called out with a cold face. “Last night’s payment has been processed.” The nurse tapped at her keyboard. “After deducting previous arrears, what’s left only covers prepayment for the next dialysis cycle.” My heart tightened. “What about the kidney transplant surgery fees?” The nurse looked at me like I was an idiot. “To get on the waiting list for a donor kidney, you need to pay a huge deposit first. And you know how things work now-you need cash to grease palms up and down.” “Without five million dollars, don’t even think about surgery.” The nurse shoved out the receipt. “Also, this week’s specialty medication is out-of-pocket. Add another five thousand dollars.” I held the receipt, standing in the busy corridor. Two million dollars. To Lauren, that was pocket change for dismissing a beggar. Here, it could only buy half a life. I opened my phone calculator. Adding in surgery fees, post-op anti-rejection medication, nutritional costs… the gap was still huge. I closed the screen. My eyes gradually turned cold. Since my mother wanted to buy off family ties with money, then I’d sell to her. The Sterling family. Lauren. Jasmine Sterling. Every single one of them would pay. As long as they paid, I’d sell anything. Mr. Lee, the manager of the spa, sent a message. “Important guests tonight. Come to work early.”

Sloane’s POV The spa was packed tonight. Luxury cars lined up two rows deep outside. The air was thick with expensive alcohol and perfume. In the employee break room, I was organizing my supply kit. My coworker Sandra Harris sidled over, looking mysterious. “Hey, did you hear? A bunch of big shots came tonight. Apparently for the Carter family heir.” “The Carters?” “Yeah, Alexander Carter! I heard he just got back from overseas.” Sandra gossiped. “That kind of top-tier wealthy family-we can only look from a distance in this lifetime.” I lowered my eyes and continued wiping down essential oil bottles. Alexander Carter. That ex-fiancé who once said he’d marry no one but me. Three days after I was kicked out, he left the country and never contacted me again. “Number 99! Get over here!” Mr. Lee stood at the door bellowing. I picked up my kit and walked over. Inside the office, Mr. Lee sat with his legs crossed, his heavy face glistening under the lights. “Last night you pushed a membership card on Lauren without reporting it, didn’t you?” I frowned. “Company policy states technicians have the right to sell packages. Commissions go to individuals.” “That was before!” Mr. Lee crushed his cigarette butt in the ashtray. “That was my client source! You went around me and took it for yourself. Half that commission needs to be confiscated.” It meant he didn’t get his kickback and wanted to rob me outright. I looked at him. “The employee handbook is very clear. If you dock pay, I’ll call corporate headquarters right now to file a complaint.” I might have fallen low, but my brain still worked. In this cutthroat place, weakness would just get you chewed to the bone. Mr. Lee’s expression changed. “Fine. You know the rules. You’re tough.” Mr. Lee smiled coldly. “Since you’re such a stickler for rules, here’s one-the top floor VIP room just finished. The cleaning crew is short-staffed. You go clean it. If it’s not spotless, I’m docking your entire day’s pay.” That was the job cleaning crew hated most. Top-tier rooms usually meant complete chaos-vomit and used condoms everywhere. I didn’t argue. I set down my supply kit, picked up the grimy bucket and mop from the corner, and turned to leave. The VIP room was a complete disaster. Wine bottles rolled everywhere. The sofa was covered in alcohol stains. The air reeked of smoke mixed with certain indescribable smells. I put on gloves and started cleaning. While collecting trash under the coffee table, an invitation caught my eye. Exquisite craftsmanship. Gold-embossed lettering. “Alexander Carter & Jasmine Sterling Two Year Engagement Anniversary Celebration” My hand froze. That date. It was originally the wedding date set for Alexander and me. Now the name had been changed to Jasmine Sterling. Jasmine hadn’t just stolen my kidney and my mother. She’d stolen my entire life. I crumpled the invitation into a ball, threw it viciously into the black garbage bag, grabbed the bag and left the room. At the end of the hallway, a familiar figure leaned against the wall touching up her makeup. Grace. She held the card she’d just gotten, looking smug. Seeing me in cleaning uniform, Grace let out an exaggerated cry. “If it isn’t Miss Sterling! How did you go from massage therapist to toilet cleaner?” Customers around us turned to look. Grace held up her phone and snapped photos frantically. “You’ve disgraced the Sterling family completely! I’m posting this to the family group right now so everyone can see what you’ve become!” The camera flash was blinding. I shoved past Grace’s shoulder with one sentence. “Get clear shots so Lauren can see where her money went.” Grace stumbled from the impact. Before she could curse, I’d already walked away.

Sloane’s POV Jasmine Sterling stood before the spa’s full-length mirror, playing with her engagement diamond ring while gently touching her waist. I stood just behind the door, quietly watching her. My kidney had been beating inside her body for three years. She’d probably forgotten that everything was stolen. Whether the healthy body or the upcoming engagement celebration-it had all originally belonged to me, the missing person. “Jasmine, why aren’t you changed yet?” Lauren’s voice rang out. Jasmine took a deep breath, adjusted her expression to the sweetest smile, and was about to open the door when her phone buzzed. Grace sent a voice message. “Oh my, Jasmine, look at the work your sister’s doing now. So disgraceful!” “The once high-and-mighty Miss Sterling is now doing this degrading work like a dog.” Jasmine called Grace. “Book me an appointment. I want to personally patronize my sister’s business.” After hanging up, she covered her waist and walked toward the interior room. “Mom, my waist hurts.” Lauren sat on the sofa selecting jewelry. Hearing this, she immediately set down the diamonds in her hand. “What’s wrong? Are you uncomfortable?” “No… I just had a nightmare last night. I dreamed that sister was suffering out there.” Jasmine leaned into Lauren’s arms, her voice trembling. “I want to get a spa treatment to relax. I heard they got new essential oils today…” Lauren’s expression stiffened briefly. But looking at her pale little face, Lauren still nodded. “Go ahead. Be good to yourself.” Lauren pulled a card from her purse. “Take this card. Buy whatever you want.” I couldn’t watch anymore. I turned and left. I knew Jasmine was about to torment me again. Late that night, I looked at Emma Peach’s latest payment notice. Still far short of the surgery deposit. I crumpled those payment slips and swallowed two painkillers. Tomorrow, whether it was Jasmine or anyone else-as long as they paid, my dignity was for sale. As long as I didn’t die, I’d collect this debt with interest eventually. The spa entrance was filled with luxury cars. One particularly ostentatious luxury sedan stood out like a crouching beast. Mr. Lee’s hysterical voice came through the walkie-talkie. “Number 99! Where the hell are you! The VIP is already in room V8!” The lobby was in chaos. To receive the Sterling family’s heiress, the spa had conducted a full staff deep clean. All technicians changed into brand new silk uniforms. Only I still wore my faded old work clothes. This was Mr. Lee’s special instruction. The air was thick with suffocating tension. Everyone wanted to curry favor with this future society lady. At the office, Mr. Lee held out his hand, his fleshy face trembling. “Hand over your phone.” “The VIP requires absolute privacy. To prevent secret filming.” I placed my phone on the desk. Preventing filming was the excuse. Cutting off my escape routes was the real reason. “Also, today’s service standard is kneeling essential oil foot therapy.” Mr. Lee slapped a service agreement on the desk. “Sign it! If anything goes wrong, not only will your entire month’s pay be docked, I’ll make sure you’re completely blacklisted in this industry.” I picked up the pen and asked just one question. “Is the commission paid daily?” Mr. Lee spat. “Money-grubbing bitch.” “As long as the pay is right, what’s kneeling?” I signed my name. “I’ve endured worse.” My hands soaked in scalding hot towel water. Fingers that once played piano were now rough and covered in tiny wounds. Once upon a time, these hands only touched piano keys and haute couture. I looked at my reflection in the water. Since Jasmine specifically wanted to see this side of me, I’d perform for her. She was the audience. I was the performer. I’d take her money and later use it to buy her a coffin.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “376456”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

In my four years of marriage to Jason, I got pregnant five times and miscarried five times. Then I woke up early from anesthesia and heard my husband tell the doctor, “Keep giving her the medication. Make sure every child she conceives dies in the womb.” So all his devotion had been a mask. Revenge on behalf of the woman he truly loved. On our anniversary night, he drugged me and sent a strange man into my room, setting up a scandal to frame me for infidelity. I swallowed the antidote with a smile and quietly secured evidence. Jason Hunter, you’ll soon find out who the real prey is. Evelyn’s POV The year I married Jason Hunter, I knew full well that ours was just a business marriage, a transaction where we each got what we needed. So from the very beginning, I planned to maintain a cordial relationship with him. However, Jason spent four years transforming this marriage of convenience into a romance everyone envied. He cared about everything I liked. Jewelry I glanced at would appear on my vanity the next day. When my stomach bothered me, he’d cancel international video conferences to personally cook and feed me. When I casually mentioned liking the stars, he spared no expense building a private observatory just for me. His kindness was thorough, meticulous, and flawless. It made me go from initial wariness to gradual acceptance and gratitude, until I finally fell completely into this dreamlike devotion. I began to anticipate our future together, longing for a complete family. But in our four years of marriage, I got pregnant five times, and I couldn’t keep any of the children Jason and I conceived. After my fifth miscarriage, I woke up earlier than the anesthesia was supposed to wear off. Through a haze, I heard Jason arguing with his friend Julian, a doctor, outside the hospital room. I propped myself up on my arms, wanting to go mediate their fight. Instead, I heard Jason’s voice, laced with a coldness I’d never heard before. “Keep giving her the medication. Make sure every child she conceives dies in the womb.” I froze in place. What did he mean by that? Outside the room, Julian’s voice came through, struggling to contain his fury. “Are you insane? Her body can’t take this anymore! If this continues, she might never be able to conceive again!” Jason replied with icy indifference. “This is what the Johnson family owes Amanda.” “But Evelyn doesn’t know anything! Isn’t it your child she’s carrying? How can you be so heartless?” “Child? Heartless?” Jason let out a scornful laugh. “If there’s anyone to blame, it’s the fact that her last name is Johnson.” “Back then, her father knew he was terminally ill and wanted to secure the Hunter family’s protection before he died by arranging our families’ marriage.” “He used underhanded methods to force Amanda to abort our child, then made her go abroad alone where she fell into depression.” “They should have anticipated there would be consequences.” Julian said, “So all these years, your devotion to Evelyn has been fake? You pampered her, made her fall in love with you, gave her children only to make her lose them again and again. All to get revenge on her father for forcing Amanda away?” “It’s only fair, isn’t it?” Jason said coldly. “The pain her father inflicted on Amanda, now his daughter gets to experience it firsthand. Now she knows what it feels like.” “Her father is already dead. Is it really necessary to keep doing this to her…” “Enough, Julian! What I do is my business. Don’t forget this hospital is one of the Hunter family’s properties.” Jason cut him off, his tone detached. “Keep prescribing the medication. Reduce the dosage by half, but make sure any child she conceives won’t survive.” “What if she finds out? Aren’t you afraid she’ll…” “She won’t dare.” Jason’s measured tone had an almost cruel quality to it. “Johnson Corporation is currently surviving on life support from Hunter Corporation. Even if she found out, what could she do? Unless she doesn’t care about Johnson Corporation anymore.” Inside the room, I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. What did those words mean? Had Jason been deceiving me all along? Even the children we lost-had he deliberately killed them himself, over and over? And he did all this because my father had forced the woman he loved to abort their child and then drove her away? My blood felt like it was flowing backward. My legs went weak and I stumbled back toward the hospital bed. The people outside heard the noise and immediately pushed the door open. “Evelyn? You’re awake?” Jason strode toward me. “Why did you get up?” “I…” “The doctor said your body is still very weak. You need to lie down and rest properly.” Jason supported my shoulders and guided me back to the bed. “If you need anything, just tell me. Don’t move around on your own.” His attentive demeanor made it seem like the cold, callous person from moments ago wasn’t him at all. I lifted my eyes to look at his sharply defined, handsome face. I desperately wanted to ask him if what they’d said outside was true. But when I opened my mouth, I couldn’t produce a single syllable. I only felt bone-chilling cold spreading from my limbs throughout my body. Noticing my reddening eyes, Jason assumed I was devastated from losing another child. He pulled me into his embrace and gently patted my back. “It’s okay, Evelyn. Losing this baby wasn’t your fault. Don’t be sad. We’ll have more children in the future.” Every time I’d miscarried before, Jason had comforted me in exactly this soft, soothing way. Previously, I couldn’t understand why I kept miscarrying after a few months when my checkups showed I was perfectly healthy. Now I finally knew. It was because the father of the children didn’t want me to give birth to them! And the person who repeatedly drugged me and took away our babies was now putting on this act, saying we’d have children in the future? How ridiculous! My heart felt like it was being sliced with a knife, the pain piercing to the core. I pushed him away forcefully. “Don’t touch me!”

Evelyn’s POV Jason froze in surprise for two seconds. But he didn’t overthink it, simply assuming I was too heartbroken over losing the baby. He spoke soothingly. “Alright, I won’t touch you. Just rest well and take care of your health.” Looking at this face I’d loved for four years, I recalled how I’d once asked Jason in confusion: With an arranged marriage like ours that had no emotional foundation, we could have just stayed out of each other’s way. When the time was right and he wanted a divorce, I wouldn’t have objected. So why did he treat me so well? And he had answered me solemnly: “Although we didn’t have an emotional foundation before, I know you’re a good woman. Evelyn, you’re already my wife. I want to cherish you, care for you, and build a happy, complete family with you.” He’d spoken so earnestly then. I believed him. I thought that even though it was an arranged marriage, perhaps I’d married the right person. Only now did I know it had all been a lie. His love for me, his kindness toward me, all the sweetness and tender care over these four years-it had all been an elaborate web of deception. I’d been full of hope and anticipation, longing to build a happy, complete family with him. But from beginning to end, he’d only been seeking revenge. Amanda Prescott… That name was identical to the girl who had bullied me back in school. I didn’t know if they were the same person or just had the same name. But I needed to find out whether it was truly my father who, for the sake of the marriage alliance, had torn apart Jason and the woman he loved. However, my father was no longer alive. Investigating this matter wouldn’t be easy in a short time. Still, regardless of the truth, one thing was certain: I had to divorce Jason. That night, while Jason was away, I contacted a lawyer to draft divorce papers. “Mrs. Hunter, are you absolutely certain about this?” The lawyer’s voice was grave over the phone. “Johnson Corporation currently depends on Hunter Corporation for survival. If you divorce, you could lose everything you have now, including Johnson Corporation.” I said firmly, “I’m certain.” Jason thought I couldn’t bear to lose Johnson Corporation. But he was wrong. Before my father died, he’d set up a private trust fund for me overseas. That fund was enough to support me comfortably for the rest of my life. Johnson Corporation, which currently survived only on Hunter Corporation’s support, was nothing but an empty shell. I could abandon it at any time. The day I was discharged, Jason personally came to pick me up. He wore a perfectly tailored suit. As he leaned down to fasten my seatbelt, his crisp cedarwood scent enveloped me. This scent used to comfort me. Now it only suffocated me. “Rest well at home. The housekeeper made you nutritious meals.” His fingers gently brushed my cheek with the same tenderness as always. “Stop overthinking. We’ll have more children.” I gripped the seatbelt tightly without responding. Halfway home, his phone vibrated. Jason glanced at the screen, something flickering in his eyes, but he answered anyway. “Jason, I got lost at the airport…” A clear female voice came through the phone. “I have too much luggage. I can’t find the exit.” My body tensed slightly. Jason said quietly, “Wasn’t your flight tomorrow?” “I wanted to see you sooner.” The woman said coquettishly. “Can you come pick me up?” After two seconds of silence, Jason hung up and turned to me. “Evelyn, there’s an emergency at the company. Can you take a cab home?” Rain was pouring outside. I looked up. “It’s raining.” Jason took off his jacket and handed it to me. “Put this on. Don’t catch cold. I’ll be back after I handle things. I’ll have dinner with you tonight.” The seatbelt clicked open. He ushered me out of the car. Icy rain immediately drenched me. I stood at the roadside holding his jacket, still warm with his body heat, watching the black sedan disappear into the curtain of rain. I couldn’t tell what I was feeling at that moment. I flagged down a taxi and told the driver to follow that black sedan. I wanted to see what this woman looked like. The one who made Jason seek revenge on the Johnson family and me. The one who made him take our children from us, over and over.

Evelyn’s POV The taxi followed the black sedan to the airport. I had the driver stop at a more distant parking spot and rolled down the window. Then I saw Jason holding an umbrella, walking quickly toward a woman pulling a suitcase. The woman wore a cream-colored trench coat with slightly wavy long hair. Even through the rain, her beautiful features were evident. The next second, the woman abandoned her suitcase and threw herself into Jason’s arms. Jason’s umbrella tilted slightly, completely sheltering them both. I couldn’t see his expression clearly, but I could see him reach out and gently pat the woman’s back. The embrace lasted more than ten seconds. Afterward, Jason took her suitcase. The woman linked her arm through his, and they walked side by side toward the parking lot. When I got a clear look at the woman’s face, my breathing stopped abruptly. Even after all these years, I recognized her instantly. Amanda Prescott. It really was her! In high school, Amanda and I had been classmates. Just because I excelled at school whether in grades or appearance, I always ranked first while Amanda was perpetually second. She resented me for it and constantly bullied and humiliated me behind the scenes. Being cornered against the wall, having my notebooks snatched and torn, getting my hair pulled these were everyday occurrences. During gym class once, thumbtacks were poured into my sneakers. When my feet were bleeding, Amanda stood nearby with an innocent smile on her face. Another time, Amanda spilled a cup of scalding coffee on me, burning my skin red. Yet she cried to the teacher, claiming it was an accident. My fingernails dug deep into my palms. A chill crept up my spine. The angel in Jason’s heart was actually the person who had trampled me into the mud. And for this person, Jason had personally killed our children over and over! “Should I keep following?” the driver asked cautiously. I watched the black sedan drive away with the two of them. “No need.” My phone rang then. It was the lawyer. “Mrs. Hunter, the agreement is ready. Is it convenient for you to pick it up now?” “Send me the address. I’ll come now.” By the time I retrieved the divorce papers from the law office and returned to the villa, it was already dark. Soaking in the bathtub, hot water wrapped around my cold body, yet I felt no warmth at all. When I closed my eyes, I saw Amanda holding Jason’s arm. I also saw Amanda from high school, throwing torn notebook pages in my face and laughing as she said, “Evelyn Johnson, dare to compete with me? You’ll never have a good ending!” Never have a good ending? No, things were different now. What Amanda and Jason owed me, I would make them repay double! The next afternoon, Jason finally came home. When he entered, I was sitting on the living room sofa holding a document. “Evelyn.” Jason approached and leaned down to kiss my forehead. “I had something come up yesterday. I’m sorry. I’ll have dinner with you tonight to make it up to you, okay?” I turned my head to avoid his kiss, looked up, and spoke. “I have a document here that needs your signature.” “Hmm?” Jason took the document I handed him. “What is this?” I was about to speak when he smiled and said, “Do you want to buy something again? I’ve told you before, whether it’s jewelry or real estate, buy whatever you want. You don’t need to specifically ask me to sign.” Without even looking at the contents, he smoothly signed his name in the signature field. Handing the document back to me, Jason casually ruffled my hair. “What do you want for dinner? I’ll have the housekeeper make it.” I took the document and looked at that familiar signature, my fingertips trembling slightly. Four years of marriage, five unborn children, countless days and nights of fake tenderness… Just like that, it ended with a careless signature. “Oh, by the way.” Jason seemed to suddenly remember something. “There’s a party tomorrow night with familiar friends. They heard you just got out of the hospital and aren’t in a good mood, so they insisted I bring you to change the atmosphere. Come with me. Think of it as a change of scenery.”

Evelyn’s POV Not wanting Jason to discover my divorce plans and ruin everything, I agreed to attend the party with him. The next day, before going to the party, I first gave the divorce papers to the lawyer and asked him to expedite the procedures. Then I contacted a private investigator, gave him Amanda’s photo, and had him investigate the real reason Amanda went abroad back then. After handling all this, that evening, Jason picked me up right on time for the party. In the banquet hall, it wasn’t until I saw Amanda surrounded by admirers that I realized this was a party Jason had thrown for her. My steps froze abruptly. Only then did I understand-the reason Jason brought me to this party was probably at Amanda’s request. Otherwise, there was no reason for him to deliberately bring me to his beloved’s party. Seeing Jason, Amanda’s eyes lit up. She lifted her dress and walked over quickly, intimately linking her arm through his. “Jason, you’re here!” Then she showed a surprised expression. “Evelyn? Oh my God, it really is you! It’s been so long!” She extended her hand with an impeccable smile. I didn’t take that hand, only nodded slightly. “Miss Prescott, it’s been a while.” Amanda’s hand hung awkwardly in the air for a moment before she withdrew it nonchalantly. Her smile didn’t diminish at all. Instead, it became more familiar. “Why so formal? Just call me Amanda. Between us, there’s no need to be so polite.” “You two know each other?” Jason’s gaze moved between us with a hint of surprise. “More than just know each other.” Amanda smiled sweetly, her eyes glancing lightly at me. “We were high school classmates. Though back then… we didn’t interact much. We weren’t very close.” I smiled slightly. “Yes, not very close. It’s just that the ‘special attention’ you gave me back then, Amanda, remains vivid in my memory to this day.” My deliberately emphasized words made Amanda’s smile stiffen. But quickly, Amanda regained her composure. “Oh my, that was so many years ago. We were young and didn’t know any better back then.” She coquettishly shook Jason’s arm. “Jason, look-Evelyn still remembers those childish pranks.” Jason’s brow furrowed slightly. Amanda then took a champagne glass from a passing server’s tray and turned to me. “Come on, Evelyn, let me toast you. Whatever unpleasantness there was between us back then, consider this drink my apology.” She offered me the champagne. I didn’t take it. “I just got out of the hospital not long ago. The doctor said I shouldn’t drink.” “Just one small sip.” Amanda insisted, feigning hurt. “Or are you really so hung up on those little student conflicts that you won’t even accept my apology drink?” Jason’s gaze fell on me with invisible pressure. “She’s personally apologizing for such a small matter. It’s just one glass of champagne. Don’t make things difficult for Amanda.” Don’t make things difficult for Amanda. I slowly turned my head to look at Jason. His profile was sharply defined in the light, still handsome. But in those eyes that had always shown me tenderness, another woman’s reflection was clearly visible, along with a trace of displeasure at my “inconsiderate” behavior. I looked at him for a full three seconds, then reached out to take the glass. “Fine.” The moment our glasses clinked, Amanda’s hand slipped. The entire drink spilled across my chest. “I’m so sorry!” Amanda exclaimed, though satisfaction flickered in her eyes. “I’m so clumsy! My hand slipped… Evelyn, are you okay?” The dark liquid quickly spread across my light-colored dress. Eyes around us turned our way. Not only did Jason not check on me, he instinctively stepped forward to hold Amanda’s hand. “How could you be so careless?” I looked down at the stain on my chest. No one knew better than me whether Amanda had done this on purpose to humiliate me. I looked up and gave Amanda a slight smile. “It’s fine.” Then I turned and walked toward the three-tiered cake nearby. Before anyone could react, I grabbed the back of Amanda’s neck and firmly pressed her face into the center of the cake. A scream erupted. Frosting covered Amanda’s entire face. She struggled to lift her head, her makeup smeared into a mess, utterly disheveled. The entire hall fell silent. Jason’s expression changed drastically. He yanked me away forcefully. “Evelyn, what are you doing? Have you lost your mind!” I staggered back two steps before steadying myself. Casually pulling out a tissue, I wiped the frosting off my hands. “Sorry. My hand slipped.” The exact same words Amanda had just used.

Evelyn’s POV The air in the banquet hall seemed to freeze. After a few seconds of silence, the guests snapped out of their shock. Whispers rippled continuously through the crowd. “Oh my God…” “How could she do that…” “Poor Miss Prescott…” Jason’s expression darkened terribly in that instant, a frightening storm churning in his eyes. But he took a deep breath. First, he removed his suit jacket and quickly draped it around the sobbing Amanda, instructing a nearby server, “Take Miss Prescott to get cleaned up.” After Amanda was escorted away, Jason turned to my expressionless face. Under the lights, his deep eyes locked onto me, calm without a ripple. “Your dress is dirty. You must be uncomfortable.” Approaching me, his tone was concerned, as if nothing had just happened. “Should I have the driver take you home to rest? Your body hasn’t fully recovered yet. You should go back and rest early.” I looked up at him, trying to find traces of anger on his face, but saw only unfathomable darkness. “Alright.” I hadn’t wanted to stay at Amanda’s party for even another moment anyway. “Drive safely.” Jason raised his hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “I’ll come home after I handle things here.” I said nothing more, nodded, and turned to leave. The night was heavy. City lights flowed past the car window in blurred halos. I sat in the back seat, watching the scenery rapidly retreat outside, the oppressive pain in my chest not dissipating despite leaving the party. I’d seen clearly just how anxious Jason was about Amanda. It seemed that in these four years of sharing a bed, aside from scheming, deception, and revenge, he truly felt no emotion toward me whatsoever. How ridiculous that I only realized now the marriage I thought was real had been a conspiracy from start to finish. My chest ached as if bleeding. As I lost myself in thought, the car passed through a relatively empty intersection when a black sedan that had been driving normally suddenly accelerated without warning. The other driver turned sharply and rammed straight into the side of my car! The massive impact shattered my eardrums. The driver’s cry rang out simultaneously. Instantly, the world spun. The tremendous force made everything go black. Intense pain radiated from all over my body. Warm liquid trickled down from my temple, staining my vision red. On the edge of consciousness being swallowed by darkness, I vaguely heard the car door being violently pulled open. Steady footsteps approached. “Mr. Hunter, I’ve done exactly as you requested. I’m certain this time she’ll be seriously injured if not disabled.” Then a voice familiar to my bones, cold as if from hell: “This is what happens when you dare to openly provoke and humiliate Amanda.” It was Jason. He’d actually had someone deliberately crash into me because of Amanda? This realization pierced my heart more sharply than the physical pain, sending bone-deep cold through my entire body. The next second, endless darkness completely swallowed me. The smell of disinfectant filled my senses. When I finally groggily woke up, my internal organs felt displaced. I struggled to lift my eyelids and tried to move, triggering violent coughing and intense pain throughout my body. “Evelyn? You’re awake?” Hearing Jason’s voice, I looked toward the man by the hospital bed, instinctively recoiling in fear. Jason stepped forward and grasped my hand. “Don’t move. The doctor said you have fractured ribs, a concussion, and multiple soft tissue injuries. Fortunately, your life isn’t in danger… Do you know how terrified I was when I got the news?” I watched his flawless performance of devotion and concern. If not for that bone-chilling sentence still echoing in my mind from before I lost consciousness, I might have been deceived by this face again. Seeing me silent, Jason assumed I was traumatized. He continued soothingly, “Don’t be afraid. The hit-and-run driver has been caught. He was drunk driving. I’ve already had my lawyer follow up. He’ll definitely pay the price.”

Evelyn’s POV I lay in the hospital bed, my entire body in extreme pain, yet it couldn’t match the cold desolation in my heart. The driver was drunk? He’d make the perpetrator pay the price? As the true culprit, he could disguise this crash as an accident. Truly worthy of Jason. But now wasn’t the time to expose everything. Forcibly suppressing all the churning emotions back into my heart, not wanting to watch his stellar performance anymore, I closed my eyes. “I’m a bit tired. I want to rest.” Jason silently watched me for two seconds. Then he tucked the blanket around me properly. “Alright, I won’t disturb you. I’ll be right outside. Call me if you need anything.” He turned and left. The hospital room door closed gently. Once the space contained only me, my eyes held a cold clarity. I didn’t understand why, now that the Johnson family had long declined and his beloved had returned, Jason still continued the charade of loving me deeply instead of just confronting me directly about ending things. But regardless of what he was planning, I only needed to endure until the divorce proceedings were complete. Then I’d never have to see that hypocritical face again. In the following days, Jason came to the hospital almost every day. He prepared food and medicine for me, consulted with doctors about my condition-attentive and caring as always, continuing to play his role as a devoted husband. One afternoon, Jason suddenly received a phone call. I clearly saw his expression shift at whatever was said on the other end. “Wait for me. I’ll be right there.” Ending the call, Jason put away his phone and told me, “There’s a problem with a project at the company. I need to go handle it. Rest and recover well.” Before I could respond, he hurried out, not even taking his jacket. After that day, Jason didn’t show up again for about a week. He sent a text explaining: “This project is a bit tricky. I need to travel for business for a while. Take good care of yourself. I’ll bring you a gift when I get back.” After reading the message, I didn’t care much and turned off the screen, focused only on recovering quickly so I could be discharged. Until I overheard two nurses chatting. “…People really can’t be compared. That Miss Prescott in the VIP room downstairs just twisted her ankle, yet Mr. Hunter has kept her admitted for almost a week now. He comes to stay with her every day…” “You mean that Amanda Prescott? Yesterday, I saw Mr. Hunter was personally peeling an apple for her and feeding her piece by piece. My God, I’m so jealous.” “But isn’t Mr. Hunter supposed to be devoted to Mrs. Hunter? That Miss Prescott downstairs just twisted her ankle, yet Mr. Hunter stays with her every day while completely ignoring Mrs. Hunter who was seriously injured in a car accident.” “I think that woman downstairs is probably Mr. Hunter’s true love…” The two nurses gradually moved away. My emotions remained exceptionally calm. I wasn’t at all surprised to learn that Jason, who’d claimed to be on a business trip, was actually staying with Amanda. But I still threw off the blanket and got out of bed. Supporting myself against the wall, I took the elevator down to the VIP room. I stood outside the slightly ajar door and through the gap saw the scene inside. Amanda was half-reclined against the headboard, her ankle wrapped in gauze, her face bright with smiles. Jason sat beside the bed, holding a bowl of soup that seemed to be steaming. He gently blew on a spoonful to cool it, then carefully brought it to Amanda’s lips. The focused expression on his profile, that tenderness I’d once known so well now it only disgusted me. I should have turned and walked away. But my feet seemed nailed in place. Just then, Amanda suddenly reached out and gently tugged Jason’s sleeve. “Even though I twisted my ankle in this accident, the doctor said our baby is fine. You don’t need to be so nervous and spend all your time watching over me.” The words hit me like a thunderclap, leaving me breathless. Baby? Amanda… was pregnant with Jason’s child?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “376457”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

When I weighed 180 pounds, I fell for Ethan. Sarah weighed 98 pounds. His eyes lit up when he looked at her. When he looked at me, there was only polite avoidance. I started running, lifting weights, dieting. When I hit 130, he said, “Not bad.” When I hit 110, he said, “Sarah looks good even without losing weight.” I didn’t stop. A talent scout discovered me. I signed with an agency. Milan, Paris, New York. I walked my way onto the supermodel rankings. Sarah told Ethan she was the one who introduced me to that scout. Ethan sent me a message: “You really have Sarah to thank for that. Without her, you wouldn’t be where you are today.” Last month, a major brand approached me for an endorsement deal. One million dollars. Sarah texted me: “Could you let me have this one? I’m just starting out.” Ethan also tried to persuade me: “It’s just one commercial. It wouldn’t hurt to help her.” I looked at the number on the contract. My agent pressed me: “Are you signing or not?” I answered without hesitation: “Sign.”

“Congratulations.” Holly tucked the signed contract into her briefcase, smiling so wide the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes smoothed out. “One million, exclusive annual contract. You’re worth it.” I didn’t respond. My phone screen was still lit. Ethan’s message hung in the notification bar—“It’s just one commercial. It wouldn’t hurt to help her.” Sarah’s voice messages were stacked above it. Three of them. The last one was seventeen seconds long. I didn’t play them. I long-pressed the conversation. Deleted. Blocked. Then I opened Ethan’s chat. Same operation. Two people. Two seconds. Holly’s hand froze mid-air, coffee cup in hand. “You just—” “Cleaning up my contacts.” She didn’t ask further questions. She made a call: “Yes, contract confirmed. Million-dollar endorsement deal, North American exclusive—” The door pushed open. Jessica from the company’s PR department walked in holding a printout, her expression twisted. “Wanda, you need to see this first.” I took it. A media press release template. The headline read—“Brand Announces Spokesperson Wanda Sullivan, Grateful for Family Support Throughout Her Journey.” The third paragraph stated boldly: “According to sources, Wanda Sullivan’s supermodel career wouldn’t have been possible without Sarah’s strong support. Sarah not only introduced Wanda to a renowned talent scout in her early stages but also accompanied Wanda through every critical milestone.” I stared at those lines for three seconds. “Who wrote this?” Jessica swallowed. “Someone from Sarah’s team contacted our PR department last month. Said it was an agreed-upon press release framework between both parties.” “She said you approved it.” Holly leaned over to look. Her expression changed. “Last month?” Holly’s voice rose half an octave. “She contacted our PR department—who authorized this?” “She dealt directly with a new intern on the team. They went back and forth through three versions.” Jessica scrolled through her phone records. “She even sent over her own bio and headshots, saying the press release needed to include her information for future resource coordination.” I put the press release back on the table. Last month. Last month, Sarah sent me voice messages, her voice all soft and sweet, saying “Wanda, could you let me have this one?” But the press release had started coordination last month. In other words, she never planned to wait for me to give it up. She was just going through the motions. “Has the brand seen this draft?” Jessica nodded. “Sarah copied the brand’s marketing department directly. The brand was pretty happy about it. Said the sisters-supporting-each-other angle was a good hook, very marketable for promotion.” My phone vibrated. Unknown number. I hesitated, then answered. “Wanda, it’s me.” Sarah’s voice. She’d called from a different number. Her tone was steady. None of that pitiful, clingy quality from the voice messages. “You blocked me.” “Yeah.” “Did you sign?” “Yes.” Silence for a moment on the other end. Then she laughed. Softly, like she was talking about something trivial. “Then you’ve seen about the press release too.” I didn’t say anything. “Wanda, the brand already approved that draft. It goes out Monday. If you insist on pulling it, the brand will think you can’t even manage your own team.” “Whether this endorsement deal stays intact or not, you should think about that.” Her pace was slow. So slow that every word felt carefully weighed. “Ethan’s right. You really should thank me. Without the narrative I built for you, why would the brand choose you? Some 180-pound girl who ran off the weight?” “A supermodel’s resume needs to look good. You understand that better than anyone.” Holly heard the voice on speakerphone. Her face turned pale. She opened her mouth to speak. I pressed down on her hand. “Are you done?” “Wanda, I’m helping you.” “Helping me? By fabricating events that never happened?” “I’m helping you package—” “Pull the press release. Before Monday. Otherwise my lawyer will contact you.” I hung up. Holly stared at me. Silent for a long while. “Wanda, what she said… about introducing you to the scout, is that true?” I put my phone in my bag. “Holly, the scout who discovered me is named Liam. He found me by the half-marathon route outside Central Park. I weighed 160 pounds then.” “Sarah was vacationing in Miami that day.” Holly took a deep breath. “Then why would she—” “Because that’s how she’s always been.” I picked up my bag and headed out. “She doesn’t need to do anything. She just has to say ‘I helped,’ and everyone believes it.” Holly followed me out. “What about the brand? The press release already got approved.” “I said it. Pull it.” “What if the brand thinks you’re difficult—” “Holly.” I stopped at the elevator. “When I weighed 180 pounds and people avoided me, I survived. When I was 130 and people said ‘not bad,’ I survived that too.” “I won’t let a fake press release define me.” The elevator doors opened. Holly’s voice came from behind me, very soft. “Okay. I’ll negotiate with the brand.”

“You and Sarah have a pretty good relationship, right?” The stylist clipped a hairpin into my hair while making casual conversation. I didn’t respond. “She came here for styling last time and mentioned you. Said you got your break because she helped introduce you to a scout. You two have such a great sisterly bond.” The hairpin pinched slightly when it went into my hair. “When did she come in?” “Last week. Said she wanted to do a set of headshots to try her hand at modeling too.” “She also told us you promised to mentor her.” I looked at my face in the mirror. From 180 pounds to now. My features hadn’t changed. But my facial structure was carved out knife by knife. Through three years of running, two years of weight training. Not because someone mentored me. My phone lit up. A message from my mother. “Sarah cried all night. Why can’t you just give in to her? You’ve competed with her since you were kids. Now that you’re successful, you look down on her even more.” I didn’t reply. The second message came right after. “Ethan even called asking why you blocked him? He’s always looked after you two. What kind of attitude is this?” The third was a voice message. I played it. My mother’s tearful voice: “Your father says if you don’t apologize to Sarah and Ethan, don’t come home for the holidays.” Holly pushed the door open. “Ready? The MODE interview is about to start.” I turned off my phone. MODE. One of the top fashion publications. Getting featured in their profile interviews—many supermodels run for ten years without that opportunity. The interview was in the lounge area next to the photo studio. The reporter was a girl wearing thin-framed glasses. Very polite. “Wanda, first, congratulations on landing the million-dollar North American endorsement.” “Thank you.” “During our preliminary research, we discovered a very interesting angle.” She opened her notebook. “Sarah runs a social media account with over a hundred thousand followers. On it, she’s documented your complete journey from 180 pounds to supermodel.” “She says she introduced you to the scout who discovered you, and that she stayed by your side during your most difficult times.” My fingers tensed on my knee. She had an account documenting me. Over a hundred thousand followers. I knew nothing about it. “So I wanted to ask—” The reporter looked up, her smile professional and earnest. “How do you view the role Sarah has played in your career?” Holly took a light breath beside me. “Could you let me see that account?” The reporter looked surprised but handed over her phone. The account name was “Supermodel Wanda Sullivan’s Sarah.” The profile picture was Sarah’s selfie. The first post was from three years ago. A photo of my back while running. Caption: “Wanda started running today! It was my suggestion~ Hope she can stick with it.” That angle was shot from my family’s balcony looking down. Back then, Sarah was living at home. I ran on the rubber track downstairs. She photographed me from the balcony. Never told me. Second post. A photo of me lifting weights at the gym. The angle was shot through the reflection in the equipment area mirror. Caption: “Wanda’s on the equipment! I found a personal trainer to help design her training plan. It hurts to watch, but it’s worth it for her health!” I never hired a personal trainer. I learned those training movements one by one from YouTube videos. I pulled a muscle three times, injured my shoulder twice. Third post. A photo of me walking out of a building with my head down after a failed audition. Caption: “Wanda didn’t pass her audition today. My heart aches for her. I went to comfort her and bought her favorite hot chocolate. I’ll definitely help Wanda find better opportunities.” I never saw her that day. That day I walked four kilometers home by myself. Because I couldn’t afford a cab. The comments were unanimous in their praise: “Sarah is so warm!” “Wanda’s success is all thanks to you!” “Wanda should be grateful to you forever.” I scrolled down a few more posts. One was a weight loss brand collaboration. The promotional image used my training photos. Caption—“Wanda’s transformation is my greatest pride. Recommending this product to those of you working hard to improve yourselves.” She was using my body to take on advertising deals. I handed the phone back to the reporter. “This content—I’m seeing it for the first time today.” The reporter froze. “Sarah never introduced anyone. The scout who discovered me is named Liam Black. He met me outside the finish line of a half-marathon.” “I don’t know who took those photos. I didn’t know she was using my training content for advertising deals.” The reporter’s pen stopped. Holly quickly interjected: “This topic is too personal. We can—” “No need to skip it.” I looked at the reporter. “You can verify everything. How you write it is your freedom.” “I’ll only say one thing. Every step from 180 pounds to here was mine alone.” The interview ended. Holly looked at me in the hallway. “Are you sure about what you said? If the reporter writes it, you and Sarah will be completely torn apart.” “Holly, the facade broke long ago. It’s just that before, the one getting torn apart was always me.” My phone vibrated again. Someone sent me screenshots in rapid succession. An update to Ethan’s social media. He’d reposted the latest update from Sarah’s account— “Wanda landed the million-dollar deal! Even though I just started out and gave the opportunity to Wanda, seeing her succeed makes me the happiest. Always supporting you, Wanda.” Ethan’s repost caption was just one line. “Kind people always lose out. Sarah, you deserve better.” Holly looked at the screenshots, her voice dropping. “Ethan’s repost… does he really not know, or is he pretending not to know?” I flipped my phone face-down on the seat. “Holly, when I weighed 180 pounds, he never looked at me properly even once. Do you think he’d bother checking whether a story is true?”

“Did you hear? About Wanda Sullivan’s endorsement—Sarah’s the one who really has the skills.” The backstage changing area wasn’t soundproof. I was changing behind a curtain. Two female models were chatting outside. “That Sarah? I follow her. Her followers are growing so fast.” “Yeah. She quietly paved the way for Sarah, and then Sarah turned around and stabbed her in the back.” “Some people are just like that. Get famous and forget where they came from.” When I pulled back the curtain, they saw me. Their expressions stiffened slightly. But only slightly. They didn’t think they’d said anything wrong. Because everyone believed it. Holly was waiting for me in the car. “The brand scheduled a creative concept meeting for 3 PM.” “Okay.” “But there’s something you need to know first.” Holly hesitated. “The brand marketing department said… Sarah will also be there.” I turned to look at her. “She proactively contacted the brand’s marketing director and pitched a campaign direction called ‘Sisterly Transformation.’ The brand thinks the topic has strong potential and wants you to listen in together.” “I’m not going.” “I also want you to refuse. But the brand’s wording was very firm—if you don’t come, they’ll reevaluate the partnership direction.” My phone vibrated. Unknown number sent a text. “Wanda, see you this afternoon. Ethan’s coming too. He connected with the brand’s investment department. Might be one big family soon. —Sarah” 3 PM. Brand headquarters. I pushed open the conference room door. Sarah sat on the right side of the long table. Cream-colored knit dress. Hair down. Makeup so light it looked almost bare. Her 98-pound body curled in the chair like a piece of porcelain ready to shatter at any touch. Ethan sat beside her. When he saw me, his expression looked uncomfortable. But he still nodded politely. That kind of politeness I knew too well. Not the politeness of seeing a person. The politeness of avoiding something. The brand’s marketing director, Chris Lewis, stood up. “Wanda, please sit.” I sat directly across from Sarah. “We’ve asked both of you here today to discuss a new creative direction.” Chris opened the PowerPoint. A set of concept images appeared on screen. The frame split in two. Left side: a blurry 180-pound silhouette from behind. Right side: the profile of a slender girl reaching out her hand. The slogan at the bottom read—“She walks ahead, I push from behind.” “Sarah proposed a ‘Sisters Moving Forward Together’ narrative framework—with you as the primary spokesperson, and Sarah appearing as the behind-the-scenes guide. Telling the story of how she helped you complete your transformation.” “Very strong potential for social media promotion.” Sarah kept her head down, her voice soft and steady. “Wanda, I’m not trying to take your position. I just want people to see how hard it was for you.” “And that I’ve always been there.” Ethan chimed in: “Right. Sarah has no ulterior motives. She just feels for Wanda.” I looked at the concept images on the PowerPoint. That blurry 180-pound silhouette on the left was taken from the first post on Sarah’s account. Shot secretly from the balcony. “Wanda, what do you think of this direction?” Chris looked at me. The conference room was very quiet. Sarah looked up at me. Eyes slightly red, lower lip gently bitten. Ethan also looked at me. His gaze heavy, carrying a kind of gentle pressure. That kind of “you should be understanding,” “you shouldn’t make Sarah look bad” silent coercion. I’d lived under that kind of gaze for over ten years. Lived from 180 pounds to now. “Director Lewis. I don’t agree with this creative direction.” Sarah’s expression froze for an instant. Ethan frowned. “The endorsement contract is with me. The decision on creative direction lies with me and the brand. Not with a third party.” Chris looked troubled. “But from a promotional perspective—” “I’ll say it again. I don’t agree. If the brand insists on this direction, I can terminate the contract.” The air solidified. Sarah’s tears fell. Fell at just the right moment. “Wanda, do you really hate me that much? I just wanted to help you.” Ethan stood up. “Wanda, can you not be so extreme? It’s just a creative direction. Sarah’s doing this for your own good.” “Why are you always like this? When people are good to you, you always think the worst.” I picked up my bag. “Director Lewis. Give me an answer within three days. Original plan, or termination.” As I reached the door, Sarah’s voice came from behind. No longer that soft, pitiful tone from before. Very light. But every word crystal clear. “Wanda, you’re forgetting—without my story, you’re nothing.”

“The brand responded.” Holly’s voice came through the phone. I’d just wrapped from a cover shoot. Still hadn’t finished changing. “What did they say?” “Partnership temporarily on hold.” My hand on the clothing rack stopped. “What’s the reason?” “The brand VP said… they received some supplementary background materials about you. They’re internally reassessing the risk.” “What materials?” Holly paused for a few seconds. Like she was searching for the right words. “Ethan sent an email to the brand investment department’s senior management.” “In the email, he said you’ve had long-term emotional entanglement with him. That you’ve had multiple emotional breakdowns out of jealousy toward Sarah.” “He suggested the brand—carefully evaluate the spokesperson’s psychological stability before signing.” My head buzzed. “He also attached screenshots of messages you sent him when you were a teenager.” Sixteen years old. 180 pounds. Heart and eyes full of nothing but Ethan. I’d sent him message after message. Careful, humble. Like begging for a response that would never come. Those messages I’d almost forgotten myself. He kept them all. Not because they were precious. Because they were useful. Useful right now. “Holly…” “I know. I’m angry too. But the brand doesn’t care whether you were sixteen or twenty-six. All they see is an emotionally unstable label.” My phone vibrated again. My mother forwarded a Twitter link. Sarah’s new post: “I just wanted to help Wanda, but she blocked me and also blocked our best friend since childhood.” With three screenshots attached. First: the screen showing I’d blocked her. Second: the screen showing I’d blocked Ethan. Third: the latest post on the “Supermodel Wanda Sullivan’s Sarah” account—“I’ve been hurt, but I still wish Wanda well.” The comments exploded again. “Wanda Sullivan is way too much, right? Sarah spent three years documenting her growth journey and didn’t get a single word of thanks?” “I went through Sarah’s account. Photos, videos, complete timeline. How could this be fake?” “Some people float away when they get famous. Forget who their stepping stone was.” My mother’s message came again: “Look at what people are saying about you online! Don’t you know how much Sarah’s done for you? Your father’s blood pressure shot up again from anger. Hurry up and apologize to Sarah. You still have other work. She has nothing.” I stared at the screen. That exhaustion I’d felt since sixteen surged up again. No matter how hard I worked, I wasn’t seen. Lost weight to 130. “Not bad.” Lost to 110. “Sarah looks good even without losing weight.” Made it onto the supermodel rankings. “Without Sarah, you wouldn’t be here today.” Landed a million-dollar deal. “What’s wrong with giving it to Sarah?” Signed the contract. Ruined by message screenshots from ten years ago. Holly called again. “Wanda, there’s one more thing.” “Tell me.” “The MODE interview came out. The reporter ultimately… didn’t use your version.” “What do you mean?” “The article headline is—‘Supermodel Wanda Sullivan: Sarah Is My Greatest Benefactor.’” “They said, based on Sarah’s three years of social media documentation, complete timeline, photos and videos all there, the editorial board judged that version more credible.” I didn’t speak. Three years. She spent three years weaving this story. And I spent three years dragging my 180-pound self onto the runway. When she was crafting her story, I was running. When she was secretly photographing me, I was at the gym. When she was writing captions, I was eating plain grilled chicken breast alone. But the story won. Not the sweat. “Wanda. The brand investment department met with Sarah separately.” Holly’s voice was very low. “They’re considering signing Sarah as a secondary line spokesperson. And… terminating your primary contract.” I closed my eyes. My phone rang again. Not my mother. Not Sarah. Not Ethan. A completely unfamiliar number. “Wanda? This is Zoe, the brand’s creative director.” “I’d like to meet with you.” “About this partnership, I think… some people have gotten things wrong.”

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On the first day of school, my daughter was punished for taking a sip of water in class. The teacher ordered her to buy snacks for the entire school for a whole year. My daughter was terrified, crying hysterically and apologizing desperately. But Miller wouldn’t let it go. She threw my daughter’s water bottle on the floor and jabbed her finger at my daughter’s nose, scolding her: “How dare you sneak food in my class? I don’t care what your excuse is. In my classroom, you follow my rules.” “Since this is your first offense, I’ll just punish you by making you buy snacks for the whole school for one year.” But when I actually delivered the items to the whole school, she fell to her knees begging me to take back the punishment. I smirked. “A year is a year. There are still 364 days left. Not one day less.” “Buy snacks for the entire school for a whole year?” I cried out in disbelief. Even if my daughter had actually broken some rule, the punishment shouldn’t be this extreme. And all she did was take a sip of water in class. Seeing my reaction, my daughter nervously clutched the corner of her shirt, her eyes brimming with helplessness and fear. Noticing her small gesture, my heart ached. I pulled her into my arms and whispered soothingly: “It’s okay, you didn’t do anything wrong. Even if the sky falls, I will hold it up for you. I’m going to message Miller right now and get to the bottom of this.” Knowing my daughter would have to study under this teacher for three years, I suppressed my emotions and inquired as politely and calmly as possible: “Miller, a class is only forty-five minutes long. It’s perfectly normal for a child to get thirsty.” “Even if Emma drinking water in your class disturbed you somehow, surely it doesn’t warrant punishing my child by making her buy snacks for the entire school for a year.” Five minutes passed with no response on the chat screen, but the parent group chat suddenly exploded. “This parent, when someone makes a mistake, they deserve to be punished. At your age, there’s no need to throw your weight around with me.” “If you can’t even afford a few dollars’ worth of snacks, I’ll sponsor you two bucks so you can take your kid home on the bus.” Miller publicly tagged me, acting as though she’d suffered some terrible injustice. Seeing this, other parents chimed in one after another in support. “I’ve heard Miller is famous for being a strict teacher who produces excellent students. I feel confident leaving my child in your hands. I’m not like certain parents who can’t handle things properly. You can discipline my child however you see fit.” “Why have kids if you can’t afford them? If you can’t pay this little bit, then tell your kid to behave and not break the rules.” “Miller, don’t let this upset you.” The disparaging messages jumped out at me, making my whole body tremble with anger. Every other comment mentioned money. I laughed coldly to myself, suddenly understanding. This Miller was targeting me specifically. The night before school started, Miller had posted a payment link in the parent group chat for a ten-thousand-dollar luxury watch, calling it an “opening day gift.” All the parents fought tooth and nail for the privilege of paying for it. Only I remained silent and didn’t respond. Unexpectedly, Miller called me out directly, graciously bestowing the “opportunity” on me. “Emma’s parent, you’re the only one in the group who hasn’t said anything, and you haven’t messaged me privately either. So this opportunity goes to you.” I found this behavior distasteful and politely declined. The group fell instantly silent. Miller didn’t respond, and I thought the matter was settled. Turns out she was waiting for this moment. There was no point in further discussion. I crouched down and gripped my daughter’s hand tightly: “Don’t be afraid, Emma. You didn’t do anything wrong. I paid your tuition, and tomorrow I’m personally taking you to school. You just focus on your studies. I refuse to believe there isn’t a single reasonable person at that school!” My daughter hesitated, then nodded. The next day, I didn’t leave until I watched my daughter enter the classroom with my own eyes. However, two hours later, Miller called again. The moment I answered, I was hit with a barrage of scolding. “Emma’s mom, you need to come to school immediately and take your child home. This is outrageous. At such a young age, she’s already bullying her classmates…”

Bullying classmates? I frowned. I knew my daughter’s personality better than anyone. She was gentle and introverted. She’d be lucky if others didn’t bully her. Remembering yesterday’s incident, a bad feeling washed over me. I rushed to the school without delay. Outside the office door, My daughter was kneeling on the ground, sobbing and pleading repeatedly. Miller sat with her legs crossed, pointing at my daughter’s nose and cursing angrily: “Like mother, like daughter. School just started and she’s already into this bullying crap. If she doesn’t want to study, she can get the hell out.” “Don’t stop! Keep kowtowing until your mom gets here, until your classmate forgives you…” My daughter’s forehead was covered in bruises. Sharp pebbles had broken through her tender skin, leaving shocking streaks of bright red. My blood boiled. I rushed forward and pulled my daughter up. Seeing me, Miller acted as though she’d finally caught me red-handed. She jumped up, grabbed a little boy standing nearby, and lifted his hand for me to see: “Emma’s mom, look at this. Your daughter caused such a big wound on this student’s right hand. What kind of dark heart does this child have?” “This student is going to Harvard someday. If she delays his education, can you take that responsibility?” The boy had a faint scratch on his pinky finger that would heal completely in a few more minutes. I rolled up my daughter’s sleeve without saying a word. Her wrist and forearm were covered in bite marks of varying depths. The deepest ones were purple-black and blue, overlapping densely in a way that was unbearable to look at. Miller gave an exaggerated “Oh!” as if just noticing, then made a show of helplessness, poking my daughter’s head with her index finger: “Why didn’t you tell me about this, child? But you can’t blame others either. Just because you have a special constitution and it looks more serious doesn’t change the fact that you bullied someone.” “Out of all these people, why did he single you out? You must have done something bad to make him have no choice but to take action.” Hearing this, the boy was instantly emboldened, standing in front of Miller like a Chihuahua with its owner’s backing: “It’s all your fault! Why won’t you buy us snacks? My mom told me the whole school could’ve had snacks, but you ruined it!” “Why should your family get special treatment? If you don’t follow Miller’s rules, you have to pay the price!” I was furious and about to explode when my daughter pitifully tugged at the corner of my shirt, pleading: “Mom, it doesn’t hurt. I did something wrong and broke Miller’s rules. Let’s just accept Miller’s punishment.” “I want to play with my classmates, to be like everyone else…” My daughter wiped away her tears, her eyes full of pleading. I was instantly speechless. The words that had reached my lips simply wouldn’t come out. From the day she was born, my daughter had been the treasure of our entire family. She’d never been wronged like this before. But looking at my daughter’s teary eyes, my anger deflated like a punctured balloon, suddenly softening. I forced myself to swallow this humiliation and squeezed out a smile: “Okay, I will order the snacks right now.” I pulled out my phone on the spot and called to pre-order a truckload of snacks. My daughter jumped up excitedly: “Now everyone will forgive me! I can finally play with everyone!” Seeing this, Miller raised her eyebrows smugly and mocked sarcastically for a while before suddenly remembering something, her tone loaded with meaning: “Should’ve done this from the start. Acting like you’re some pure lotus flower above it all.” “Turns out you’re pretty generous when you want to be. Before, you were so petty about every little thing. I thought your family couldn’t even afford to put food on the table.” “The payment link in the group expires tomorrow. You know what to do.” I pretended not to understand, casually deflecting with a few words without mentioning buying the watch, then turned and left with my daughter. After we’d gone far enough, Miller’s eyes couldn’t hide her disgust. She ground her teeth and cursed under her breath: “Damn it, won’t even buy one watch, you cheap bastard.” “If you won’t spend the money, then don’t blame me for what happens next.”

A quiet week passed. My daughter occasionally shared fun stories from school, and my anxious heart finally relaxed. It was precisely at this moment. Ring ring ring. My phone rang persistently. I saw it was my daughter calling, and an ominous feeling arose. Sure enough, as soon as I answered, I heard my daughter’s tearful voice: “Mom, please come pick me up. I don’t want to go to school anymore. I want to come home. Mom, please let me come home…” My heart jumped. My daughter had always been so sensible. For her to say this, something terrible must have happened. I rushed to the school in a panic. The moment I entered the classroom, the originally noisy room fell eerily silent for an instant. Then everyone looked at my daughter and me with strange eyes, occasionally turning away to whisper: “That must be her mom, dressed so slutty. Maybe her mom gave her that infectious disease.” “Yeah, yeah, I heard her dad got so disgusted he left. Who knows where they get their money from.” “Ew! So shameless. Miller was right. Both of them have that kind of contagious disease. My mom says that disease is so dirty. We need to stay away from them. It’s terrifying.” My daughter looked up with a sob, her eyes swollen red from crying. The classmates immediately burst into laughter. My daughter’s waist-length hair had been chopped into a ragged mess, and chewed gum was stuck to the top of her head. I quickly shielded my daughter and flew into a rage, slamming my hand on the desk and demanding: “Who did this?” Several kids giggled and shoved each other, completely unconcerned: “We all did it together! You did this kind of thing and you still have the nerve to ask?” “Think you can buy us off with a few snacks? No way.” “Hurry up and get your daughter out of this school. This class doesn’t welcome her!” My blood rushed to my head. I charged forward, ready to slap them hard across the face and teach them a lesson on behalf of their parents. The instant I raised my hand, Miller, who’d been absent until now, conveniently appeared. She grabbed my wrist and said leisurely: “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what’s this parent doing? Trying to hit someone else’s child? This is a school, not a marketplace. It’s not a place for you to throw tantrums.” Miller watched smugly as those kids ran behind her to tattle, as if she’d once again caught me in the act. She made a show of starting to scold me for not being a qualified parent. “This parent, I advise you to calm down, or I’ll have to call the police.” My heart was bleeding, but my extreme anger actually made me calmer. I looked calmly at the gloating smiles on everyone’s faces: “Making up vicious rumors about my daughter and me without any evidence. As a teacher, is this your attitude toward educating students?” Miller frowned slightly. She shook her head for a moment before putting on an innocent act: “Children certainly don’t lie, but they do have vivid imaginations. They inevitably say things that don’t match reality. Do I really need to verify every single word they say?” “Flies don’t land on uncracked eggs. Sometimes people should spend less time blaming others and more time reflecting on themselves.” “Besides, I manage dozens of students. Of course I can only pay extra attention to the ones who behave well, right?” I stared at her expressionlessly for a moment, realizing she was determined to get revenge for my not buying her that watch. She wanted me to back down. I suddenly lowered my head and softened my tone: “Miller, I didn’t think it through. Actually, the opening day gift and the snacks can be delivered this afternoon. I’ll personally hand them to you.” Seeing me finally come around, Miller felt the frustration that had been building in her chest for days finally dissipate somewhat. She waved her hand in satisfaction: “Fine! Then I’ll be magnanimous and not hold this against you.” I smiled gently, calmly switching the snack order to watermelons. That afternoon, ten large trucks loaded with watermelons rumbled toward the school. The trucks displayed prominent banners reading: “Day One of Miller Treating the Whole School to Snacks.”

This grand spectacle drew nearby residents out to watch. “Is that the award-winning teacher Miller? How generous. This must cost quite a bit.” “The banner says ‘Day One,’ so does that mean there’ll be a Day Two and Day Three? What a wonderful teacher, spending her whole salary on students.” “Students these days are so lucky. We never had these conditions back in our day.” On her way to the office, Miller received numerous admiring and respectful looks. She felt rather pleased with herself. Upon seeing me, she cleared her throat pretentiously and criticized condescendingly: “I’ll let you pass for today, but you’re really being cheap. Watermelons cost so little. You could’ve at least sent king crab or something.” “And you put my name on it, making me too embarrassed to show my face. Don’t do this again next time.” I lowered my posture as much as possible and pleaded quietly: “My daughter was only thirsty and took a sip of water in class, but she has to be punished by buying snacks for the whole school for a year. Now I’ve delivered the items, and we’ve accepted the punishment we deserved. Please, I’m begging you to let my daughter off the hook.” Hearing this, Miller looked somewhat displeased. She deliberately held out her empty right hand and impatiently deflected: “Are you even human? Can’t you understand plain English? I’ve told you how many times. It depends on your performance.” I lowered my head, my voice carrying a hint of tears: “I really can’t afford the ten-thousand-dollar luxury watch you want. I’m a single mom, and my daughter depends entirely on me. Could you please…” Her wish unfulfilled, Miller exploded in rage and cut me off. She scolded furiously: “Are you fucking with me? Don’t give me all that useless crap. Without that watch, you can expect to send snacks for another year!” “You better think carefully. As long as your daughter is under my control for even one day, I’ll target her for that entire day. Let’s see who outlasts who.” “This time you only sent cheap, crappy watermelons. Next time it better be king crab, or it doesn’t count. Understand?” I suddenly raised my phone and pointed it at Miller’s face, raising my voice as I cried helplessly, each word filled with anguish: “Please, everyone, help us. She’s trying to drive us mother and daughter into a corner. Just because I can’t afford to give Miller the watch she wants, she’s encouraging the whole class to isolate and bully my daughter…” Miller hadn’t expected me to pull this move. She froze instantly, her expression still frozen in the greedy, ugly look she’d worn while threatening me. The vast army of internet users didn’t disappoint me either. The livestream’s popularity skyrocketed. Bullet comments rolled past, with netizens cursing angrily: “And she calls herself a teacher? Taking one sip of water in class means sending snacks for a year. So if a student bends down to pick up a pen, should they send a house?” “This person is insane. Openly demanding gifts, and a ten-thousand-dollar watch at that. Does she think parents’ money grows on trees?” “Where’s the Department of Education? They need to give us an explanation. Single mothers raising children work so hard. How can we feel safe entrusting our kids to schools?” Miller instinctively covered her face. After a few seconds, she snapped back to reality and rushed toward me, cursing as she tried to grab my phone. “Stop!” An authoritative voice came from the doorway. “Who the fuck are you to order me around?” Miller, focused on grabbing the phone, turned back dismissively. When she saw who it was, her face went pale, and she immediately stopped. The principal’s face was ashen: “Want me to show you my ID? Should I throw in a box of salmon while I’m at it?”

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The day before my wedding, my company went bankrupt. Before I even made it home, I received photos of my fiancée Tillman in bed with her uncle Harvey—cheating on me in my own bedroom. I immediately made a FaceTime call. “Did Harvey go bankrupt too? So broke you can only have your affair in my bedroom? Couldn’t afford a hotel?” Tillman covered the red marks on her chest and said impatiently: “You and I are just a business arrangement. I’m giving Harvey a massage—don’t get in the way!” Harvey wore my bathrobe, his mocking laughter particularly grating. “Does he still think he’s some CEO?” I almost laughed in anger and posted the wedding venue location on Ins. “Looking for a new bride. Anyone interested?” On the wedding day, Tillman called me 33 times: “Steve, where did you run off to? My whole family is waiting for you to pick me up!” I looked at the row of heiress daughters in front of me, all wearing haute couture wedding gowns. “I’m getting married. Don’t get in the way!”

“Steve, don’t think you can pressure me with Grandpa Phillips. Sure, he arranged our engagement, but how many years does he have left anyway?” On the video call, Tillman’s fingertips traced across the large water stains on the red sheets as she spoke lazily. Harvey deliberately exposed the scratch marks on his chest and laughed mockingly. “Phillips has terrible judgment. Steve’s already bankrupt and still putting on airs. Tillman’s still willing to marry him—he should be grateful.” A ball of fire burned in my chest. I gripped my phone tightly: “Tillman, you were the one who came to me with that marriage contract begging for help for your family.” “Now you don’t want to get married—fine, there are a hundred ways to do it, but you chose the most disgusting one!” Tillman wrapped her arms around Harvey’s neck, laughing so hard she doubled over. “Who said I don’t want to marry you? If I didn’t marry you, how could I get revenge? I can’t marry the love of my life Harvey anyway, so marrying you is perfect for venting my anger!” My heart sank. “Tillman, you’re going to regret this!” Harvey spat at me arrogantly. “Still daring to threaten Tillman? Can’t read the situation at all. From now on, you’ll be the one on your knees begging my family.” Tillman nodded in agreement, lifting her chin at me. “Bring back a box of condoms. Got it?” With that, she hung up decisively. I slammed my fist into the steering wheel. Did she really think I had no choice but her? Even without SSS Group, there were still plenty of women who wanted to marry me. I pulled out my phone and posted the wedding venue on Ins. “Looking for a new bride. Who’s interested?” As soon as I opened the car door, I ran into Tillman’s parents, their faces dark. “SSS Group is about to collapse, and instead of being busy at the company, you’re wandering around here doing what?” “Don’t even think about getting back those millions you invested in Phillips Group. It’s all clearly stated in the contract.” Tillman’s mother Judy looked at me with complete wariness, a far cry from when she used to call me her good son-in-law. I laughed coldly and handed over my phone. “What am I doing? Catching cheaters.” Seeing the photo of Harvey and Tillman lying in the same bed, their expressions instantly turned awkward. Although Harvey was only adopted by the Phillips family and had no blood relation to Tillman. Judy was the first to react, blocking my path. “Just lying in the same bed doesn’t mean anything. It’s all because you have no charm—otherwise why would Tillman still be entangled with Harvey?” Tillman’s father Marcus handed me a still-warm prenuptial agreement, saying shamelessly: “Steve, if you hadn’t made poor decisions and gone bankrupt, Tillman wouldn’t be like this.” “But our family keeps our word. The wedding won’t change, but you need to sign the prenuptial property agreement.” I stared at their calculating faces and flung the prenuptial agreement into the air. Papers scattered down. “A month ago, when SSS Group’s legal team suggested signing a prenuptial agreement, you two made every excuse to refuse.” “Get out of my way! I’m done being your son-in-law.” Marcus pulled back Judy who was blocking me, his expression dark. “Let him go!” “If he doesn’t want SSS Group to collapse even faster, he should understand—right now he needs this marriage alliance more than we do.” Hearing this, Judy gained confidence and snorted coldly. My steps paused slightly. These past few years, for Tillman’s sake, I’d been too nice to them. They’d long forgotten that without that marriage contract, they wouldn’t even have a chance to meet me!

At my doorstep, the beach wedding photos Tillman and I had taken in the Maldives last month lay on the ground, my face in the photo marked with several shoe prints. Voices came from inside the house. “Tillman, he’s not even worthy of carrying your shoes now. Even after you marry him, don’t let him touch you.” “Of course not. I’ve been saving myself for you all along.” My temples throbbed. We’d been together for three years, and Tillman had always played the innocent role. She said she was a traditional woman, and that sort of thing had to wait until the wedding night. Yet here she was, playing quite wildly with Harvey in my wedding suite. I pressed my thumb on the touchscreen, but the door didn’t open. The password had been changed. I pulled out my phone and called the police directly. “Hello, I need to report a crime. There are people in my house engaged in illegal trespassing and prostitution services.” I gave the operator my exact location, word by word. As soon as I hung up, messages popped up from Tillman’s bridesmaids group chat. They were fawning over a series of intimate photos Harvey had posted. Then came a string of messages @-ing me. “The day before the wedding still counts as being single. It’s not like Tillman’s messing around with someone else—she’s just comforting Harvey. Don’t take it to heart.” Someone forwarded news of SSS Group’s bankruptcy to the group. “He’s just a bankrupt old man who doesn’t deserve Tillman at all. She’s still staying loyal—he should cherish that!” “By the way, bachelorette party tonight!” I gripped my phone, trembling with anger. Back when I was trying to please Tillman, when they were shopping sprees with my black card, they sure didn’t act like this. At that moment, Harvey sent a voice message, his tone extremely arrogant. “Steve, stop pretending. If you really cared about Tillman, you would’ve called off the engagement yourself after going bankrupt. The only reason you’re not breaking it off is because you’re greedy for the Phillips family’s power.” The bridesmaids all cheered in approval. Tillman also sent a voice message, her tone brazen. “I know you can’t bear to let go of my family’s wealth. That floor where my office is needs cleaning—from now on, you can come work at Phillips Group and clean toilets for me.” The Phillips family wealth? What wealth from a family that had always relied on my support? A month ago, when SSS Group was in turmoil, I had assured Tillman it wouldn’t affect our future quality of life at all. Because at that time, the butler of New Jersey’s richest man, Johnny, had found me with a DNA test report. I wasn’t sure what Johnny’s attitude toward me would be, so I hadn’t revealed everything. But she hadn’t listened to a word I said… As I threw that wedding photo into the apartment complex’s dumpster, the wail of police sirens reached the complex. Even as they were dragged downstairs by police and property security guards, disheveled and half-dressed, Tillman was still shrieking: “How dare you touch me! I’m the heir to the Phillips family!” Downstairs, the previously unshakeable Marcus and Judy’s expressions changed as they rushed up to explain for the two. Tillman’s friends who had just arrived for the bachelorette party looked extremely shocked. I raised my phone and captured this wonderful scene. My phone buzzed with a new message. Shakira: I’ll marry you. I was somewhat surprised. Last week, when I went to New Jersey to meet my birth family at Johnny’s house, this woman had suddenly given me a hard time, scaring me into returning to Atlanta overnight. Later, when she learned I was getting married soon, she seemed relieved and flew over on a private jet early in the morning to apologize and congratulate me. I typed suspiciously: Shakira, can you mess with someone else, please? Almost instantly, she sent over a share transfer agreement. “I’m serious. Look, I bought all the shares of SSS Group.” My jaw dropped. I wasn’t even planning to keep the empty shell of SSS Group. Anyone with eyes could see these were junk stocks. She was truly foolish enough. But how could the heir to the Tony family, which rivaled the Johnny family, be a fool? I gradually believed she was serious. “Come to the wedding venue tomorrow. We’ll get married.” As soon as I sent the message, a hand slapped my phone away. The phone hit the ground, the screen shattering into pieces. “Steve, are you sick? You actually called the cops on me!” Tillman glared at me furiously, her chest heaving violently.

Harvey looked at me with venomous eyes. “Tillman, don’t get upset.” “He has no money or power anymore. This is the only way he can force you to come back.” I looked up at him and suddenly noticed the new watch on his wrist looked very familiar. It was the family heirloom watch that Johnny had given me when I met my birth family. I laughed coldly. “Harvey, you talk down about me constantly, but why do you have to steal even a watch from me?” Harvey choked. But in Tillman’s eyes, this scene only made her feel sorry for him. “Harvey, I won’t let him bully you.” She turned, her fury directed at me: “Which watch of yours haven’t I seen? You’re bankrupt—stop trying to make yourself look good!” “Now, apologize to Harvey immediately!” Her bridesmaids held up their phones filming me, their faces full of contempt. “Tillman’s already giving you a way out—hurry up and take it!” “This guy becomes so troublesome when he turns into a pauper. Only Tillman is beautiful and kind-hearted enough to still honor the engagement with you.” “Steve, kneel down and apologize to Harvey!” I looked at Tillman, my eyes ice cold. Three years ago, when the Phillips family was on the verge of bankruptcy, she came to me with a marriage contract. Considering the old generation’s friendship, I had helped her family. She had tearfully sworn to me that she would never betray me in this lifetime. During our three years together, I had never stopped supporting Phillips Group. In the past, forget about just one of my watches—even the outfits I wore to various events were all personally coordinated by her. But a month ago, when Harvey returned from abroad, she changed. She started frequently not coming home because of Harvey. I thought they were just close, but I never imagined they’d end up in the same bed. “Me apologize? Ridiculous.” “You don’t understand the value of this watch or what it represents.” “The police just left, but they can come back. I’ll have them determine whether he’s a thief or not.” I bent down to pick up my phone from the ground. Tillman kicked it away. “I know you resent that I fell in love with Harvey.” “But Harvey is innocent. I won’t allow you to slander Harvey as a thief!” With that, she raised her hand to slap my face. I grabbed her wrist and backhanded her with a slap. “Tillman, if you want to debase yourself, don’t drag me into it.” The crisp “smack” shocked everyone. Tillman froze for a second, covering her face in disbelief: “You… you dare hit me?” “For what you’ve done, don’t you deserve to be hit?” I knew what she was thinking. I had promised I would protect her for life. But she was the one who broke that vow first. She tried to rush at me again, but when she met my icy gaze, she stopped dead in her tracks. Since I mentioned the watch’s extraordinary value, Harvey had been continuously fidgeting with it. He grabbed Tillman’s hand, indignant with righteousness: “Tillman, his brain’s been damaged since going bankrupt. He’s insisting my watch is his. I won’t hold it against him.” “But he dared to lay hands on you today—you can’t marry a domestic abuser! Three years ago, this is exactly how he schemed against our family!” I laughed coldly: “My unconditional investment of millions is called scheming against your family?” Tillman paused but still raised her chin. “Isn’t it? When you invested in our family, weren’t you betting that we’d make a comeback and become industry leaders?” I looked at her in shock. Tillman and Harvey held hands even tighter. She stared at me. “Steve, I don’t care that you’ve been using me all these years, but I absolutely won’t let Harvey suffer even the slightest grievance.” “If you won’t apologize, our wedding is off!” At that moment, my heart turned completely cold. I was using her? She actually had the nerve to say that. The Phillips family—these ungrateful wolves—belonged in the trash. My gaze swept over Tillman and Harvey who was putting on quite a performance beside her. “Cancel it then. I don’t want to marry you anyway.” Tillman froze, probably not expecting me to agree so readily. She wanted to say something, but was interrupted by a shout. “No! The engagement can’t be cancelled.” Marcus and Judy, having just seen off the police, returned and grabbed Tillman’s arm excitedly. “SSS Group’s plummeting stock has started rising!”

Harvey snatched the phone, his expression looking like he’d eaten shit. I immediately understood—it was because of Shakira acquiring SSS Group shares. Tillman also glanced at the phone, her eyes widening, but stubbornly said: “It’s just showing an upward trend. It’s been falling for a whole month.” Watching the stock continue to climb, Marcus and Judy panicked, desperately giving her meaningful looks. Tillman bit her lip, her expression changing repeatedly, then forced out a smile for me. “Alright, Steve, I was just joking with you.” “Those photos were just me and Harvey fooling around. Don’t be angry.” She playfully scolded me and reached out to grab my arm. “You had a backup plan for SSS Group all along. Why didn’t you say so earlier?” I coldly avoided her. Tillman’s smile froze. Harvey’s expression also changed. He put on an innocent smile. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m an elder—how could there be anything real between Tillman and me?” Afraid I wouldn’t believe him, he took off the watch and offered it to me like a treasure. “If Steve likes this watch of mine, I’ll give it to you.” I almost laughed at his shamelessness. “Steal my watch and then give it back to me? Are you even speaking human language?” Harvey’s hand froze in mid-air. Tillman’s anger flared up again. “Enough!” “I haven’t even blamed you, and you’re still calling Harvey a thief!” Tillman’s bridesmaids pointed and gossiped about me. “Harvey is so magnanimous, unlike someone whose true colors show after going bankrupt!” “The stock stopped moving anyway. Don’t get cocky.” Hearing this, Harvey shot me a venomous look and viciously smashed the watch on the ground. “Oops, my hand slipped.” “This was a gift Johnny gave me!” My eyes blazed with fury. I instinctively moved to pick it up, but Tillman’s stiletto heel stomped down on it. She gritted her teeth, seeming very annoyed about the stock’s brief rise, and announced the cancellation of our engagement on Twitter right then and there. “Steve, unless you kneel and apologize, don’t even think about marrying me!” I stared at the shattered watch, stunned for a full two seconds. When I raised my head again, my eyes were ice cold. “I already told you—I’m not planning to marry you. Also, you’re all dead.” With that, I strode away, ignoring the mockery behind me. “Hilarious, running away with his tail between his legs.” “Just wait and see. Tomorrow he’ll be on his knees begging to marry Tillman.” The next day, at the wedding venue. Johnny sent a message saying he’d prepared a surprise for me. I didn’t think much of it until Johnny’s butler helped me push open the church doors. In an instant, a row of brides looked at me with shining eyes. The butler whispered in my ear, “Mr. Johnny knows about you and Tillman breaking off the engagement. He spread the word that you’re looking for a new bride.” “Rest assured, these young ladies all volunteered to marry you. You can choose one for a marriage alliance.” “A surprise? This is a shock!” I steeled myself and searched for Shakira but couldn’t find her. “Also, Johnny didn’t need to go to all this trouble. The one I want to marry is Shakira.” The butler opened his mouth somewhat awkwardly. “So you already knew about the childhood engagement between you and Miss Shakira, but everyone knows Miss Shakira swore never to marry because of her lifesaver.” “Never to marry?” Shakira had agreed so readily yesterday—was she playing me? In my uncertainty, I accidentally answered Tillman’s call that had been ringing non-stop. I held the phone away from my ear. Angry shouting came from the other end. “Steve, what are you trying to do by not coming to pick me up? My whole family is waiting for you!” Harvey fanned the flames on the side. “Tillman, if this bastard really doesn’t want to marry, he should cancel the wedding. But I heard all the notable people in the city were invited.” Tillman sneered. “Steve, I’m waiting for you to beg me.” My gaze swept over the row of heiress daughters in haute couture wedding gowns, and I smirked. “Tillman, who said you were my bride?” I hung up the phone. When Tillman arrived at the wedding venue with her entourage, ready to demand an explanation, she found rows upon rows of luxury cars with New Jersey license plates parked on the lawn. The bride who stepped out of the last luxury car glanced at her disdainfully. “Another one. What poor family’s daughter is this? If you want to marry Harvey, get in line at the back!”

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While doing an MRI for a female influencer, I discovered she had a battery-powered sex toy inside her body. Out of my responsibility as a doctor, I kindly warned her. Instead, she slapped me across the face and tearfully told her rich fiancé that I tried to sexually harass her under the guise of examination. Her fiancé flew into a rage and smashed my skull with a fire extinguisher. Not only that, she posted about it online, painting me as a perverted doctor that everyone wanted dead. My wife couldn’t bear the cyberbullying and jumped from the nineteenth floor. My daughter became an orphan. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn—back to the day I performed her MRI. This time, I chose to respect her suicidal fate. “What are you staring at? Never seen a beautiful woman before?” “Hurry up with the scan! I have a product livestream this afternoon!” The shrill female voice pierced my eardrums painfully. I snapped back to reality, breaking out in a cold sweat. Sitting before me was the female influencer who had destroyed me in my past life—Leilah. Right now, she had her arms crossed, her face full of contempt. I instinctively touched the back of my head. The tragedy from my past life felt like it happened just yesterday. Her muscle-bound rich fiancé Ricardo had grabbed a red fire extinguisher and smashed it viciously into my head. “This is what you get for being a pervert!” Ricardo’s furious roar and Leilah’s gleeful cold laughter were the last sounds I heard in my previous life. After I died miserably, Leilah started a livestream online. She cried pitifully, accusing me of not only forcibly pulling down her underwear but also making lewd comments about her private parts. The internet exploded with rage. [Doctors nowadays are so disgusting! Beasts in white coats!] [He must be severely punished! Death is too good for him!] [Protect Leilah! Boycott this hospital!] My name stayed on the trending topics for an entire week. To calm the public outcry, the hospital threw all the blame on me, a dead man. My wife couldn’t bear the cyberbullying and jumped from the hospital’s top floor. And my father, who had worked hard his entire life, had people come to his door cursing him and throwing feces at him. In despair, he drank a bottle of pesticide and died in unspeakable agony. Remembering all this, overwhelming hatred surged in my chest. “Hey! Are you deaf or what?!” Leilah waved her hand forcefully in front of my face and rolled her eyes. “What’s wrong with you bottom-tier doctors? Is your brain damaged? Stop spacing out!” I took a deep breath and forced down my emotions. “Sorry, Ms. Leilah, right? You’re here for a pelvic MRI.” I picked up the metal detector and began scanning her. The moment I scanned her pelvic area— Beep beep beep!!! The detector blared its alarm, red lights flashing wildly. Leilah’s expression flickered, but she quickly forced herself to look calm. “Why’s it beeping? This machine must be broken!” I stared at her coldly. “Ms. Leilah, MRI scans prohibit any ferromagnetic or conductive metal objects.” “Do you have any metal implants in your body? Such as an IUD, bone pins, or… anything else?”

In my past life, this was when I said a few extra words. Having worked in the imaging department for years, I knew this detector’s reaction definitely wasn’t from an ordinary IUD or bone pin. It was clearly from a metal object with a battery and motor. Combined with her slightly odd walking posture when she entered—legs pressed together—and the unnatural flush on her face. I immediately deduced that she had a remote-controlled vibrating toy inside her body. My duty as a doctor wouldn’t let me ignore it. Because the magnetic field inside an MRI chamber is sixty thousand times stronger than Earth’s magnetic field! This meant any magnetic metal entering the chamber would not only turn into a high-speed flying bullet. If the metal was inside the body, it would experience violent displacement from the powerful magnetic pull. At the same time, the magnetic field would cause eddy currents inside the metal, instantly generating temperatures of several hundred degrees. If that thing stayed inside her during the MRI, her intestines and reproductive organs would be instantly cooked and torn apart! In my past life, my well-meaning warning had cost me everything. This life, looking at Leilah’s face—beautifully made up but unable to hide her bitter, mean nature—I only felt cold amusement. Hearing my question, Leilah’s eyes darted away. She instinctively pressed her legs together, then yelled viciously: “What ‘anything else’! Why do you talk so offensively?” “What could I possibly have inside me? This is a titanium alloy bone pin from a minimally invasive surgery two years ago!” “I already asked other doctors—titanium alloy isn’t affected by MRI at all!” “You’re just a radiologist. Do you even have basic medical knowledge? Don’t make a scene here when you don’t know what you’re talking about!” She jabbed her finger at my nose as she scolded me. True, having titanium alloy in your body allows you to get an MRI, because it’s not ferromagnetic. But the detector’s current reaction was definitely not something as simple as titanium alloy. She was lying. But I didn’t refute her at all. I simply nodded obediently. “If it’s a titanium alloy bone pin, then you can certainly proceed.” Leilah snorted coldly, looking smug. “At least you’re not completely blind.” I turned and walked to the control desk, taking out a legally binding “Examination Informed Consent Form” from the drawer. I picked up a pen and heavily circled several key sections. Then I walked to a position directly under the surveillance camera. “Ms. Leilah, although you say it’s titanium alloy, for your safety and per hospital regulations.” “Please confirm once more that you have no ferromagnetic metals, electronic devices, batteries, or non-medical metal objects on or inside your body.” “If you confirm you don’t, please sign here and add your fingerprint.” I handed her the form and ink pad. Leilah didn’t even look at it. She snatched the pen. “So annoying! Such a hassle! Your crappy hospital is so difficult!” “What else could I possibly have on me? Ridiculous!” She scrawled her name on the form, then pressed down hard with her fingerprint. She slapped the form on my desk. “Done! Hurry up and scan me! My husband keeps calling me!” I picked up the signed consent form and carefully verified it. Black and white, with a red fingerprint. This was her death warrant, and also my shield. “Alright, Ms. Leilah.” “Please follow me and lie down on the examination table.” I opened the heavy shielded door and made a “please” gesture. Leilah twisted her snake-like waist and strode into the room that would soon become her hell.

She lay on the examination table, still acting like she owned the place. “Hurry up, this bed is hard as a rock and freezing cold.” “Make sure you get good images. If there’s a misdiagnosis, I won’t let your hospital off easy.” I put on sterile gloves and helped position her body correctly. “Don’t worry, Ms. Leilah. We’ll make sure everything is crystal clear.” I exited the scanning room. As the heavy door closed, the inside and outside became two separate worlds. I returned to the control console, watching Leilah on the monitor. She was staring boredly at the ceiling, her legs trembling slightly and unnaturally. The thing inside her body was probably making her somewhat uncomfortable. Now I could probably guess why she deliberately provoked Ricardo in my past life to have him kill me. Because influencers like her, who built their careers on risqué content, often had sugar daddies behind the scenes. That Ricardo was just one of many men she’d seduced. The toy inside her was most likely something her sugar daddy made her wear for thrills. Framing me to silence me was to prevent me from telling Ricardo. In my past life, she destroyed my entire life just to hide her affair. So this life, I’ll give her all the thrills she wants. I skillfully entered her information on the computer and set the parameters. My finger hovered over the “Start” button. I turned to look at my colleague behind me, intern Diego. “Diego, you saw this patient sign the informed consent form, right?” Diego, who’d been slacking off on his phone, stopped and nodded. “Yeah, I saw it. She signed and fingerprinted it herself. But man, her attitude was really terrible.” Surveillance, witness, handwritten signature and fingerprint. This time, flawless. I took a deep breath and pressed the keyboard. “Beep—hummm—” Accompanied by the dull roar of the machine, the examination table slowly sent Leilah into the chamber. One second, two seconds, three seconds. “AHHHHHHH!!!!!” An extremely piercing scream instantly penetrated the shielded door and exploded in the control room. The sound was filled with absolute terror and indescribable pain. Diego was so startled his whole body shook, and his phone clattered to the floor. “What’s happening?!” On the monitor, Leilah, who had been lying flat, suddenly arched her entire body upward like a live fish thrown into a hot wok! Her hands desperately pressed against her lower abdomen, her legs kicking wildly. “Help! Help me! My stomach! My stomach is tearing apart!!” Even the machine’s thunderous roar couldn’t drown out her heart-wrenching screams. The instrument’s powerful magnetic field had instantly captured the metal vibrating egg inside her. That small metal object, under the magnetic pull, instantly became a bullet trying to break through her body. It twisted, rotated, and tore uncontrollably through her soft intestines and pelvic tissues! Not only that, the metal shell and internal battery were rapidly heating up under the alternating magnetic field. I didn’t even need to watch the screen to imagine that horrifying sensation of flesh being torn apart while simultaneously being seared by a red-hot iron. “Ahh!!! Stop it! Stop! There’s something inside! Something!!” Leilah rolled frantically inside the chamber. Due to the confined space, her head slammed hard against the inner wall of the machine, drawing blood. The intense pain completely broke her. She wailed miserably while desperately pounding on the machine. “I’m dying! Help me!!” Diego’s face turned deathly pale as he stammered, “Quick… quick, hit the emergency stop button!” I pretended to be frozen in shock, deliberately staying still for a few extra seconds. Then I finally reached out and pressed the stop button. The machine’s roar came to an abrupt halt. The examination table slowly withdrew Leilah from that massive cylinder.

The shielded door opened. A strong smell of blood mixed with an indescribable burnt odor hit me in the face. Leilah was curled up on the examination table. Her hands desperately covered her lower body. The hospital gown pants were soaked with large patches of fresh blood. Blood dripped from the edge of the examination table, “drip, drip, drip,” onto the floor—a horrifying sight. “Save… save me… it hurts so much…” Her face was deathly pale, cold sweat plastering her hair to her forehead. Her once-delicate makeup was now smeared into a mess, making her look like a ghost. Seeing me enter, she reached out her trembling hand toward me like grabbing a lifeline. “Doctor… stop it… take it out… it’s so hot…” Looking at her, I felt not a trace of sympathy. “Ms. Leilah, didn’t you just say you only had a titanium alloy bone pin inside?” “Titanium alloy doesn’t react in a magnetic field. What exactly did you hide in your body?!” I demanded loudly, my voice loud enough for people in the hallway outside to hear. Leilah was in so much pain her eyes rolled back, her whole body convulsing. “It’s a toy… with a battery… please save me… I’m begging you…” She finally admitted it, but it was all too late. Just then, chaotic footsteps echoed from the hallway outside. A tall, designer-clad man burst in. It was Leilah’s fiancé, Ricardo. The murderer who killed me with a fire extinguisher in my past life. “Leilah! What happened?! I heard you screaming!” Ricardo rushed into the examination room. When he saw the blood-soaked bed and his fiancée writhing in pain, he was completely stunned. “What the hell! What the hell is going on?!” He spun around, glaring at me with bloodshot eyes, and grabbed me by the collar of my white coat. “What the fuck did you do to my wife?! How does a simple scan cause massive bleeding?!” The fear from my past life made me instinctively want to shrink back. But then I knocked his hand away. “See clearly where you are! This is an MRI room!” “Your fiancée concealed her medical history from the doctor and had a battery-powered sex toy stuffed inside her!” “You ask what I did? You should ask her what she was doing coming for an examination in broad daylight with that thing inside her?!” My voice rang out clearly. Not only was Ricardo stunned, but the onlookers and nurses who came to help were all shocked. The entire hallway fell into instant silence. Everyone’s eyes fell on Leilah’s blood-soaked lower body. Ricardo’s face turned from blue to white. He looked at Leilah on the bed in disbelief. “Leilah… is… is what he said true? You had… something inside you?” Leilah was already in so much pain she was about to pass out. She had no strength left to refute. She just desperately shook her head, tears mixing with cold sweat streaming down. “Ricardo… save me… it hurts so much… my intestines are breaking…” Ricardo might be a brute, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d never made her wear any battery-powered toys. And she was here for a medical exam today! He felt publicly cuckolded. The humiliation made him explode with rage. “You slut! What the hell have you been doing behind my back?” Ricardo rushed forward. Instead of comforting her, he viciously slapped Leilah across the face. “Smack!” The crisp slap echoed through the examination room. “Enough! This is a hospital! If you want to fight, go outside!” I shouted coldly, then turned and yelled, “Get her to the operating room now! Notify the ER and general surgery! Immediate surgery needed!” “Patient has a foreign object in her pelvic cavity, possible intestinal perforation and uterine rupture, massive hemorrhaging!”

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