Category: English

After my reincarnation, when McVeigh’s student deliberately locked me in the MRI machine again, I neither cried nor made a scene. I simply closed my eyes calmly and slept. After all, in my previous life, because I was trapped in the MRI for six hours, I, in my anger, went to the hospital to complain about McVeigh’s student, Chloe. After Chloe lost her medical license, McVeigh hated me. He retaliated against me cruelly, as if I were an enemy, not only forcing a divorce where I left with nothing, but even when I was diagnosed with brain cancer and desperately needed him, a nationally renowned brain cancer expert, to save my life, he showed no mercy. He even warned all his former students not to treat me. Finally, penniless and nearly despairing from brain cancer, I crashed my car at the entrance of the house that had once been our marital home, ending my life. So, in this new life, sleeping for six hours in an MRI machine is nothing. It’s okay, as long as I can receive McVeigh’s treatment and survive. 1 When I opened my eyes again, it was McVeigh who woke me. He looked at me in horror. “Elle, how… how are you stuck in the MRI?” In my previous life, McVeigh also entered the examination room at this moment. However, he had been drawn by my screams. So, in that life, the moment McVeigh released me, I, having lost all reason, charged hysterically at McVeigh’s assistant, Chloe, the instant my feet touched the ground. I slapped her across the face. Chloe’s lip bled from the impact. Yet, she didn’t defend herself, only wept and repeatedly apologized. But how could I have listened then? After all, when Chloe had locked me in the MRI, she had provocatively told me: “Mrs. Thorne, you’re so annoying, always stopping the professor from teaching me how to write my papers.” “You can just reflect on yourself in the MRI machine.” With that, she left the examination room. No matter how loudly I screamed, no matter how hysterically I struggled and cried, Chloe never re-entered the examination room. So, how could I have listened to her apologies? After slapping her, I angrily accused her. “Apologize? You dare apologize to me? You deliberately locked me in the MRI for six whole hours.” “Do you think crying and saying sorry twice can make up for it?” “Chloe, you don’t deserve to be a doctor. I’m going to complain about you to the hospital. I’ll make sure you can never practice medicine again.” After roaring in anger, I rushed out of the examination room. Even when McVeigh followed behind me, trying to calm me, begging me, even threatening me with divorce if I reported her, I didn’t listen. I just angrily kicked open the door to their complaints office. Even when the head of their administration department smoothly tried to persuade me not to pursue it, I simply threatened them, saying if they didn’t fire Chloe, I would go to the reporters. Finally, I got what I wanted: Chloe was fired from the hospital. But what happened in the end…? A painful ache spread through my chest. As I lost myself in memories, McVeigh had already unfastened the restraints on me. This time, I chose not to make a scene as I had in the previous life. As I was released from the MRI, McVeigh, just like before, nervously tried to explain to me. “Please, let me explain, Elle. Chloe was just inexperienced. I happened to call her away, and she forgot you were in the examination room. She didn’t do it on purpose.” “She’s young; give her a chance to make mistakes.” I merely glanced calmly at Chloe, who had been crying since the examination room. I picked up my coat from a nearby chair, put it on, and then smiled gently and empathetically. “Don’t worry, I understand. Interns make mistakes; it’s perfectly normal.” “I only spent six hours in the MRI. I don’t feel bad; I was just tired, so I fell asleep in there.” “Oh, and I have something to do. I’m going home now.” With that, I didn’t look at McVeigh, but turned and walked out of the examination room. After all, what was there to say? In my previous life, after Chloe was fired from the hospital, McVeigh divorced me because of my “malice.” After the divorce, he went to work at another hospital, on the condition that Chloe could practice medicine there. And I? I not only received no divorce settlement, but my initial headache, which had led me to the hospital for an examination and consequently got me trapped in the MRI by Chloe, soon turned out to be brain cancer. The moment I was diagnosed with brain cancer, I immediately went to McVeigh’s hospital and booked an appointment with him. He was a national authority on brain cancer, and we had once been deeply in love. Even if he hated me, he wouldn’t truly watch me die. But to my surprise, the instant he saw me, McVeigh tore up my medical records. “You still dare to come to me? You almost ruined Chloe’s career as a doctor.” “Do you know how hard it is to study medicine? Eight years, how many medical texts do you need to memorize, how many bitter nights does that entail?” “But you? You were only locked in the MRI for six hours, and you wouldn’t let it go, almost making Chloe lose her chance to be a doctor.” At that time, my headache was severe. I could only cry and tell McVeigh that he misunderstood me. I wasn’t there to cause trouble; I was truly sick. But hearing my words, McVeigh sneered at me. “Oh, brain cancer, huh? Good. That’s what you get for your wickedness.” Afterward, to get back at me, he even called all his former students right in front of me, one by one, forbidding any of them from treating me. At the end of my life, penniless and unable to get a specialist appointment, I could only stab myself repeatedly with a fruit knife into my emaciated body. Desperate for a full night’s sleep, I swallowed dozens of ibuprofen pills. In those final moments, the pain became unbearable. I sought McVeigh out again. But by then, he was already embracing Chloe, sweetly dating and intimately kissing her in the home I had once meticulously nurtured, using the bowls I bought and the wine glasses I carefully selected. The last scene of my life was McVeigh kneeling and proposing to Chloe. And I, my head throbbing as if being torn apart by a drill, unable to bear the pain, crashed my car into the entrance of the home I had once poured all my efforts into. So in this life, what’s six hours in an MRI? Those six hours are nothing compared to life itself. 2 After leaving the examination room, I immediately went to the garage and drove straight home. Once home, I called the hospital and rebooked a full body check-up for myself. But just as I hung up the hospital phone, McVeigh, for some reason, suddenly returned. He held a bouquet of flowers and a cake. “You must have been scared today. I bought your favorite strawberry cake.” With that, he took off his suit and unwrapped the cake box. Watching the tenderness that enveloped his eyes, my chest ached again. In my previous life, McVeigh had also bought these flowers and cake, but it was to beg me to drop the complaint against Chloe. Yet, it was worth noting that McVeigh had never sent me flowers or cake since he met Chloe. He often even forgot our wedding anniversary and my birthday. That’s why in my previous life, realizing his unusual behavior towards Chloe, I had been so relentless with her. My heart ached almost to suffocation, but in an instant, I calmly smiled. “I’m sorry, my stomach feels a bit off, so I won’t eat your strawberry cake.” “And the flowers too, I don’t like red roses, so you can give them to Chloe.” I was really telling the truth. After all, I had a big medical check-up tomorrow, and keeping a 24-hour fast was essential. Flowers? They sickened me. In my previous life, when I died, when he proposed to Chloe, he had filled the villa we lived in with these very red roses. But McVeigh, frowning slightly, walked towards me. “You’re just deliberately trying to pick a fight, aren’t you?” “I have so many surgeries all day long; I’m half-dead from exhaustion, and I still have to come home to coax you. Can you please stop overreacting and dwelling on one small thing?” “I already explained to you at the hospital, Chloe is an intern; it’s normal for her to make mistakes.” “But you, you just walked out of the hospital with a sour face.” “Fine, I tolerated that, specifically bought flowers and a cake to come home and coax you, and you’re still giving me the cold shoulder.” My heart felt so weary. But I calmly met McVeigh’s gaze. “Believe it or not, I’m really not angry, nor am I being unreasonable, and I’m not giving you the cold shoulder either.” “I was in the MRI for six hours, and I’m genuinely exhausted, so all I want to do now is sleep.” With that, I didn’t look at McVeigh again, turned and went back to my room, locking the door securely. When I came out again, McVeigh was gone. Instead, my WeChat was constantly being bombarded with messages. This was Chloe’s habit. Whenever she was with McVeigh, she would continuously send me photos of her life with him. She treated me like a file transfer assistant. In my previous life, this was why I had thrown such a huge tantrum out of jealousy when Chloe trapped me in the MRI. But now, looking at the photos Chloe sent, I didn’t curse her as I usually would. Instead, I very sincerely commented: “Your phone angle is wrong. McVeigh’s side profile looks better. Remember to hold your phone higher next time when you take pictures.” “Also, look at the negative space in your photos. It should be less, so you and McVeigh can look more intimate.” As soon as I sent the WeChat message, Chloe replied. “You’ve been hacked.” I sent her a smiling emoji. “No, just wanted to let you know, McVeigh is yours.” With that, I blocked Chloe’s WeChat. This current triangular ownership situation is perfectly fine. I want the status of Mrs. Thorne, so McVeigh will treat my illness. McVeigh’s body and presence? If Chloe wants them, I’ll give them to her. Not like my foolish self in the last life, who only wanted McVeigh’s love. 3 After dealing with Chloe, I lay on the bed, calmly closing my eyes. But that night, even though I had been reincarnated, I still didn’t sleep well. Just like when I had cancer in my previous life, I kept dreaming of my past with McVeigh. When he was a child, McVeigh was often beaten by his special education teacher mother because he was introverted and didn’t like to talk. Often at midnight, when I had already slept, he would still be wearing thick glasses, doing test papers, while his mother stood by with a stick. Every time he made a mistake, his mother would raise the stick and hit him hard on the back. Living across from him, every time I saw him being beaten by his mother in the middle of the night, I felt so sorry for him. So whenever I got candy, I would secretly slip it into his backpack on the way to school, then smile and say to him, “McVeigh, when your back hurts, eat one.” The first time I gave McVeigh candy, his face flushed red. It wasn’t until I had run a hundred meters away that he stammered in a low voice, “I… I don’t eat candy.” And I just waved back with a smile. “McVeigh, you should talk more, your voice is really nice.” After that, it seemed to become a habit. McVeigh, who had always been a loner, got used to waiting for me, and used to me slipping candy into his backpack. And so, in that small alley outside our neighborhood, McVeigh and I walked through countless springs, countless summers, countless winters together. Until he was 18, McVeigh, who got into a top university as the county’s top scholar, nervously handed me a school number, pushing up his glasses. “I looked up this school. It’s very close to mine, only a ten-minute walk. Your scores aren’t enough for a bachelor’s degree, but you could do an associate’s degree.” I looked at his awkwardness. I didn’t tell him that my parents had an emergency meeting the night before, after getting my college entrance exam scores, saying that even if I had to go to a third-tier university, I had to get a bachelor’s degree; our family could afford it. After that, I secretly changed my college application without telling my parents. Even though the ultimate price was a beating from both my mother and father, I never regretted it. Later, McVeigh and I went to university in the same city. His life, after leaving his mother, seemed to take a miraculous turn. He removed his thick glasses and put on contacts, changed his buzz cut to curly hair, and even his fashion began to change. He shed his plaid shirts for white ones. His perpetually black sneakers became white athletic shoes. I didn’t know why McVeigh had undergone such a transformation until I once again shrieked with excitement because my favorite celebrity was coming to my university city for a concert. McVeigh, with reddened eyes, grabbed me. “I’ve become the person you like for you, but you still can’t like me?” The word “like” hammered into my chest like a heavy blow. Even though we attended different schools, I had heard of McVeigh’s legend: a medical genius, who at only freshman year had apprenticed under a nationally renowned neurosurgeon. By his sophomore year, he was interning at a hospital through his mentor’s recommendation. And because of his sudden change in appearance, a group of women even created a forum dedicated to documenting McVeigh’s transformation. I had always thought there was an ocean between us, and we would forever remain just friends, but then McVeigh told me he liked me. Being the thick-skinned person I was, I didn’t think twice before rising on my tiptoes and impulsively kissing McVeigh. After that, we started dating. My main focus became feeding McVeigh all sorts of bubble tea, sweets, and desserts that I liked. I had no life plan; every day was either about figuring out what McVeigh would eat, drink, or what we would do for fun. McVeigh’s life, meanwhile, continued its miraculous trajectory, publishing multiple papers during his graduate studies. Immediately after earning his doctorate, he was recruited by a prestigious top-tier hospital. In stark contrast to McVeigh’s life, my own seemed to be cursed afterward. I failed to transfer from my associate’s to a bachelor’s degree. After graduating from college, I lived solely on McVeigh’s allowance. Even my parents, who had adored me since childhood, tragically died in a car accident on their way to visit me in the hospital for pneumonia two years after I graduated. As an orphan, I cried until my tears soaked their bodies. McVeigh, kneeling beside my parents’ corpses, swore to me in his mother’s gloomy, hateful gaze that he would take care of me for the rest of his life. McVeigh and I got married. I had multiple miscarriages; each pregnancy ended in loss. Until later, Chloe became McVeigh’s assistant. He started to disdain me, calling me shallow. All I did all day was ask him what to eat and drink. Unlike Chloe, who could talk about medicine and surgeries with him. My eyes welled up with tears. When I opened them, I realized the day had already broken. And just like in my previous life, my pillow was soaked with tears. Just then, McVeigh’s WeChat message came through. “Going to the nursing home to see my mom this afternoon.” 4 Seeing McVeigh’s message, I calmly replied, “I’m busy today, no time.” McVeigh immediately called. “What are you doing today?” “Elle, how many times do I have to tell you, Chloe and I have nothing going on. Why do you insist on clinging to a small issue and not letting it go?” Hearing McVeigh mention Chloe again, a sneer touched my lips. McVeigh, ever since becoming a doctor, had grown accustomed to speaking concisely. This was the first time he clung to an issue so stubbornly. So, was he trying to convince himself that he hadn’t developed feelings for Chloe, or was he trying to lessen his guilt towards me? My chest ached with a tremor, but I calmly explained to McVeigh again, “McVeigh, I’m not feeling well. I need to go to the hospital for a check-up. I truly can’t accompany you to see your mom today.” “Also, your mom has a heart condition, and she’s always disliked me. Isn’t it better if I don’t go to the nursing home and upset her? And doesn’t your mom really like Chloe? She says only someone of Chloe’s status is worthy of you. Just let her go with you.” I truly meant well in advising McVeigh, but to my surprise, McVeigh lost his temper again. “Elle, just keep acting out.” With that, he hung up. Listening to his abrupt hang-up, a sneer once again crossed my lips. See? This is the difference between love and not love. After all, the McVeigh who once loved me would frantically ask if he’d done something wrong to upset me whenever I showed even a hint of a wronged expression. But now, the McVeigh who no longer loves me still thinks I’m being unreasonable, even when I genuinely offer advice.

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My son, Oliver, got an allowance of five hundred dollars a month. He thought it was peanuts and racked his brain to get more out of me. He’d charge five bucks for clearing the dishes, ten for making his bed. Even when I had a fever and asked him to run downstairs for some medicine, he’d deadpan: “Ten dollars for the errand, or you can just burn up.” By the end of the month, he presented me with a bill. “Mom, I did a thousand dollars worth of work this month. You owe me.” My husband, Arthur, chuckled, “I should learn from Oliver. I lifted the toilet seat when I went to the bathroom, you owe me ten bucks.” Seeing them genuinely planning to charge me, a stay-at-home mom, for household chores, I spoke calmly. “Alright, from today on, we’ll operate on a ‘pay-for-work’ system in this house.” 1 Oliver was only in middle school, but he spent money like water. All his birthday money went straight to toys. I capped his allowance at five hundred a month, and he threw a huge fit. When he saw I wouldn’t budge, Oliver tried a different approach. “Mom, I took out the trash for you today! You owe me five dollars!” Seeing him willing to help with chores, I was happy and even transferred him an extra five. But two days later, I was laid up with a fever, utterly drained and couldn’t find any medicine. “Oliver, could you please go downstairs and get some fever medicine for Mom? Cough, cough…” Oliver stood still, holding out his hand. “Mom, ten dollars for the errand.” I was stunned. I couldn’t believe my son was demanding money when I was sick. Oliver pressed on, “Pay first, or I’m afraid you’ll back out later!” Seeing that look on his face – the one that screamed “no money, no medicine” – I felt a chill spread through me. Hadn’t I always rushed him to the emergency room the moment he got sick? Every time, I’d be in tears, urging the driver to go faster. My head was spinning so much, I worried I wouldn’t even be able to take the medicine later. I forced myself to reach for my phone, and after several fumbling attempts to unlock it, I scanned his code and paid the ten dollars. Five minutes later, the medicine arrived. Oliver handed it to me. “Mom, need water? Pouring water is cheap, five dollars should cover it.” I looked up at Oliver in disbelief. Who takes medicine without water?! I tried to reason with him, mustering what little strength I had left. “Mom’s really unwell right now. If I don’t take this, I could get seriously sick.” “We can talk about money later…” But Oliver pouted, clearly annoyed. “Why later? Hurry up! Money first, then the goods!” His tone lacked any hint of concern for my illness. My head was heavy, and I didn’t have the strength to transfer money anymore. Just before I blacked out, I used every ounce of my energy to put the fever medicine in my mouth before closing my eyes. After swallowing the medicine, I slept straight through to the next day. When I woke up, Oliver saw my fever was gone and looked utterly disappointed. “Mom is so stingy! She wouldn’t even give me five dollars for the water!” I opened my mouth, only to find it terribly bitter. The fever medicine had dissolved in my mouth, and I still hadn’t had any water. A dull ache throbbed in my head and chest. I slowly sat up and noticed a box of fever medicine in the trash bin. “Did you throw this away?” A flicker of guilt crossed Oliver’s eyes, but he quickly put his hands on his hips. “If I hadn’t thrown it away, you wouldn’t have asked me to buy medicine!” “If you hadn’t asked me to buy medicine, how would I have earned ten dollars for the errand!” “You should just blame yourself for cutting my allowance!” I tried to explain. “Five hundred dollars is enough for your allowance. If there’s anything you want to buy, just tell Mom…” But Oliver shouted, cutting me off. “Five hundred is enough for what?! I told you I wanted to buy a toy, did you buy it for me?” Last month, he wanted to buy a hundred-dollar toy, and I’d refused. Seeing my silence, Oliver sneered, then pulled out a ledger. “I’ve helped you with a lot this month, Mom. You can’t deny it!” I stared blankly at the open bill. [Helped Mom hang laundry: $10.] [Helped Mom clear dishes: $5.] [Helped Mom close the door: $3.] … These were all small tasks, just simple favors, most of them even his own responsibilities. But he’d tallied them all under “helping Mom,” and the total for the month came to a staggering one hundred dollars! Seeing I hadn’t moved, he pressed 911 on his kids’ smartwatch, just short of dialing. “Mom, pay up! Or I’ll call the police! I’ll tell them you’re employing child labor and abusing children!” 2 Click! Arthur opened the door, frowning at the scene. “What’s going on?” Oliver ran over and handed Arthur the ledger. “Dad, I helped Mom with so much this month, and she’s trying to welch on the payment!” Arthur glanced at it, his expression hardening. “Eleanor, that’s out of line. The boy put in the effort, why shouldn’t he get a reward?” His critical tone sent a wave of hurt through me. I told Arthur about the fever medicine, expecting him to scold Oliver. But to my surprise, his voice grew even more impatient. “Is that even worth mentioning? Why are you being so petty as a mother?” He tapped the table, urging me. “Don’t discourage the boy from helping with chores. Besides, you’re a stay-at-home mom. If Oliver does some of your chores, isn’t it only fair you pay him?” I stood frozen, clutching my phone, looking at Arthur helplessly. When it came to raising Oliver, Arthur always loved to contradict me. But I never imagined he’d support me in transferring a hundred dollars to our son. Oliver, hearing his dad side with him, proudly flashed his payment QR code. “Hurry up!” Both of them closed in on me. I tried to protest, “I don’t have that much money…” Arthur stared fixedly at me. “Didn’t I transfer you twelve hundred for groceries yesterday?” My jaw dropped. “Then what about this month’s groceries?!” “Figure it out yourself!” Arthur snatched my phone and, without another word, transferred a hundred dollars to Oliver. Every month, I relied on that twelve hundred to feed the entire family, and it was often barely enough. Now, with only two hundred left, my head spun, and I had no idea what to do. Oliver immediately bought a new toy, gloating at me. “Mom, what good was your refusal? I still bought it!” “Oh, right, Mom, I just put my shoes in the shoe rack. A dollar for my trouble!” My heart clenched. Was I going to have to transfer another hundred dollars to him next month?! Arthur, meanwhile, was lounging with one leg crossed, laughing. “I should learn from my son. I lifted the toilet seat today. You should pay me ten dollars too. If I do that once a day, that’s three hundred a month.” He tipped his chin at Oliver. “Son, write that down. Your mom owes me.” I clenched my fists, barely able to breathe. By their calculations, I’d owe them an extra hundred dollars next month! But I’d been a stay-at-home mom for over a decade. My savings and what little dowry I had were long gone. Where would I get the money? Seeing Oliver diligently jot down another line, I couldn’t take it anymore. I snatched the small notebook. Oliver’s eyes glinted with disdain. He challenged me, “Mom, you’re not going to try to tear it up, are you? I’ve got backups!” I took a deep breath, crumpled the notebook into a ball, then released it. “I won’t tear it.” “You can write this down for me too.” 3 Arthur thought I was joking, but the next morning at breakfast, as he ate, I declared: “Cooking breakfast for Oliver, twenty dollars.” “Getting a bowl for my husband, ten dollars.” “Oliver, remember to write that down.” Oliver stared, bewildered. “Mom, are you serious?” Arthur frowned. “What nonsense are you playing at?” I smiled. “You can’t expect to get paid for chores while I’m free labor, can you?” “You are free labor!” Oliver immediately shouted. “They say a mother’s love is selfless! Charging your son for cooking? Have you no shame?!” Arthur was just as displeased. “How can you, a mother, even say such a thing? Your son came from you; it’s only right you care for him. And I paid twenty thousand dollars for your dowry. You were bought.” Oliver grew even more agitated. “You eat Dad’s food, use Dad’s things, and still dare to demand money?!” My heart sank, utterly. This was the love I’d sacrificed a high-paying job for. This was the marriage I’d painstakingly built for over a decade, and this was my beloved son. The two of them continued to sneer, but I ignored them, pulling out a new notebook and diligently writing down each item. By this calculation, I could earn thirty dollars just in one morning, far more than twelve hundred a month. But Arthur’s face turned completely black. He slammed his bowl to the floor. “This is ridiculous! Charging me for a bowl? I’m not eating!” As he walked out the door, he threw a cold remark over his shoulder. “Keep up this act! I’d be surprised if I give you even a dollar for groceries next month!” After he left, Oliver also headed out for school, but he couldn’t find his shoes in the shoe rack. “Mom! Help me find my shoes!” he cried anxiously. I slowly replied, “Finding shoes, ten dollars.” Oliver’s eyes widened in shock. He huffed indignantly. “Fine! I won’t wear any! I’ll wear my slippers to school!” He stomped on the ledger twice in frustration, not forgetting to yell, “Just idling around the house all day, living off Dad, and still shamelessly demanding money!” He kicked the table, sending food crashing to the floor. “How could I have a mom like you?!” My heart shattered into as many pieces as the broken dishes on the floor. In all these years, there hadn’t been a single day when I was “idling around the house.” On the contrary, to cook meals, I woke up earlier than anyone else. After I finished the housework, they would both be snoring away. Yet, my son thought I was doing nothing. I chuckled self-deprecatingly, wiping away tears from the corners of my eyes. All this, it wasn’t something I had to do! I stepped around the leftover food and followed them out. Since no one valued my labor, thinking it was all just expected, I decided I would find a job to prove my worth. But to my surprise, I searched all morning, and no company would hire me. I’d been a stay-at-home mom for too long; my life had revolved around my son and husband, and I’d been out of touch with society for too long. In the afternoon, Arthur called me, gritting his teeth. “Are you out of your mind? Not even coming home to cook lunch!” I replied calmly, “Order takeout yourself. Or I can come back and make a meal for eighty dollars.” At the mention of money, Arthur immediately swore. “Fine, then never come back!” With that, he slammed down the phone. Before I could even stand up, Arthur sent a text: [If you’re going to be like that, how much rent do you think you owe for living in my house?] My heart plummeted. It felt like a slap across the face. I realized this farce had escalated to an unmanageable point. Thankfully, I had no intention of managing it. I thought for a moment, then a suitable job came to mind. I didn’t return home until evening. Oliver, watching TV, rolled his eyes. “What took you so long? I’m starving!” I said calmly, “What do you want to eat?” Oliver immediately reeled off, “Sweet and sour ribs, braised pork, grilled wings!” “That’ll be eighty-nine dollars.” Oliver froze, his face contorted in anger. “You’re my mom! Why are you charging me to cook my favorite food?!” I found it amusing. “Then why do you charge me for making your own bed?” Oliver’s face flushed. “Because you’re my mom!” He then pinched his nose, looking disgusted at the overturned breakfast table. “It stinks! Can you please clean up that mess before talking to me?!” The morning’s disaster was still untouched, and the oil from the food had seeped into the floor. The house reeked of greasy, sour odors. “Sure, cleaning up will be fifty dollars.” Oliver’s face went white. “Are you doing this on purpose?! Are you trying to get back at me for that hundred dollars?!” He screamed, “This is your duty as a mother!” Just then, Arthur came home from work and frowned at Oliver. “What’s all the shouting about?!” Oliver pointed at me. “She’s being completely unreasonable! Dad! She’s on strike! Cut her allowance, that’ll teach her a lesson!” Arthur loosened his tie, looking annoyed. “Eleanor, are you done with this? If you keep acting up, I’m going to start charging you rent!” Seeing me stand my ground, Arthur sneered. “Two thousand dollars a month for a two-bedroom apartment isn’t unreasonable, is it? For fifteen years, you owe me three hundred and sixty thousand.” He pulled out his payment QR code and shoved it in front of me. “Transfer the money now! Or you can apologize to me and Oliver. After you apologize, cook dinner and clean the house, and no more talk about money!” I looked at his face, veins throbbing with anger, and suddenly I laughed. “Hold on, let’s calculate from the beginning. Let’s also put a price on all the housework I’ve done every day.” Arthur’s face turned completely black.

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After working late to print the quarterly report, the printer spat out an extra page. I casually flipped it over and froze. It was an “Employee Reassignment Notice,” stamped with the red seal of the HR department. Luna Vance, transferred from the Strategic Products Department to the Customer Service Department. Salary adjusted from 11,000 to 6000. Effective next Monday. I read it three times. My name was on it, my employee ID was on it. In the “Department Head Signature” field, Eleanor Hayes’s name was signed, perfectly round and full. The conference room at the end of the hallway was lit. I heard Eleanor’s voice, laced with laughter: “That eight-million-dollar contract with Knight Industries, I’ll personally sign it next week.” Adrian Grenier said, “Don’t worry, Eleanor, I’ve memorized the proposal.” Every page of that proposal was written by me. I turned off the printer and took both sheets of paper with me. 1 I didn’t go back to my desk; I went straight to the stairwell. The signal was terrible on the twelfth floor, but it was enough for me to clearly photograph the reassignment notice. One picture of the front, one of the back. A smudge of ink marked the edge of the red seal, a tiny tail where Eleanor’s pen had paused during her signature. I saved them to my personal cloud, then locked my phone. The next morning, I went to see Ms. Stark in HR. She sat behind her desk, her expression fleetingly awkward when she saw me. “Luna, dear, come in, have a seat.” “When was this reassignment decided?” She sipped her water, avoiding my gaze. “It was brought up at last Friday’s department meeting. Ms. Hayes said the customer service pace would suit you better.” “Last Friday evening at nine, I was still working overtime, writing the closing report for Knight Industries.” “Well… personnel changes are all arranged by the company uniformly.” I glanced at the documents on her desk. The top one was Adrian Grenier’s promotion approval form. Position: Senior Product Manager. My former position. “Ms. Stark, I’ve been in the product department for five years, and all the core client relationships were managed by me. Was this reassignment ever discussed with me personally?” She finally looked up, lowering her voice. “Luna, I’ll be honest with you. This was Ms. Hayes’s direct decision, and Mr. Vance, the VP, signed off on it. I just stamped it.” “But you know it’s not compliant.” She didn’t respond. “The stamp was still placed.” I stood up, not waiting any longer. Back at my desk, Adrian was already sitting there. No. It was my desk. He had moved my belongings into a cardboard box in the corner. The pothos plant I’d nurtured for two years sat on the floor, its leaves drooping. “Luna,” he said, swiveling his chair with a smile, “I hear you’re moving to customer service? It’s pretty laid-back over there, and closer to home.” I bent down to pick up the pothos, ignoring him. Several colleagues nearby pretended to focus on their computers, their keyboards clattering loudly. I pulled open my drawer. My folders were still there, but all the documents for the Knight Industries project had been removed. “Where are the Knight Industries files?” Adrian waved a USB drive in his hand. “Ms. Hayes said the project was handed over, so I’m holding onto the documents for now.” I stared at that USB drive. Inside were one hundred and seventeen pages of PPTs, forty-three client communication logs, and nine versions of requirements iteration documents. Every single word was typed by me. He wouldn’t even understand the file naming conventions. Five years. Squatting on the floor, packing my box, I counted: one employee badge, three notebooks, a white mug with a chipped rim. The mug was emblazoned with the words “Employee of the Month.” It was an award given at the annual meeting the year before last. Eleanor had gone on stage to accept it, giving a speech thanking the team. My name hadn’t been mentioned once. I placed the mug at the bottom of the box, covering it with a jacket. Moving was quick; one cardboard box held everything. The elevator ride from the twelfth floor to the third took less than a minute. When the doors opened, an A4 paper was taped to the opposite wall, with “Customer Service Department” printed on it. The paper was slightly crooked, the bottom right corner peeled up. Two of the hallway lights were out, and the tiles were two shades darker than upstairs. I stood at the doorway, hugging the box. Pushing the door open, the office area was smaller than I imagined. Six desks squeezed together, with only three people sitting. A white-haired man stood up from the innermost desk—it was Old Man Jenkins from customer service. “Luna Vance, right? Welcome, welcome, come sit here.” He led me to a desk by the window. The surface was clean, but the corner had a dusty tape residue, as if something had been taped there long ago. “Not many people here, you’ll adapt slowly,” Old Man Jenkins smiled. “It’s a small department here, but we don’t work overtime.” A girl next to me raised a hand. “I’m Sarah Lin. Just call me Sarah.” Her computer screen was filled with customer complaint tickets, dense with red labels. I set down the box and opened my computer. My system account hadn’t been migrated yet. I entered my password three times, each time met with “Insufficient Permissions.” I submitted a ticket to IT. They replied that my product department system access had been revoked, and my customer service access needed supervisor approval. Old Man Jenkins went to get it approved for me. He came back shaking his head: “The process is stuck with HR. Might take two or three days.” I sat at the empty desk, unable to open any system. My phone vibrated. Eleanor had sent a message: “Luna, which folder did you put the Knight Industries client preference analysis report in before? Adrian can’t find it, and he needs it urgently.” I stared at the screen for five seconds. I didn’t reply. 2 The next day, Adrian posted a message in the main product department group chat: “Everyone, I will be fully responsible for the Knight Industries project moving forward. Please contact me directly with any issues, no need to contact Luna anymore. Thank you, Luna, for your foundational work in the early stages; you worked hard.” Foundational work. One hundred and seventeen pages of proposals, forty-three communication logs. Foundational work. The group chat was flooded with “You worked hard,” “Keep it up,” “We trust you, Adrian.” Not a single person tagged me. I left the group. The customer service system access finally came through on the third day. When I logged in, the homepage was filled with a screen of pending tickets. Four hundred and seventy-two entries. The earliest was from three months ago. “No one handled these?” Sarah gave a wry smile. “There are only three of us in the department, four with you. Old Man Jenkins handles administrative tasks, Mark transferred last month, so it’s just me answering calls.” She pointed to the corner, where seven or eight unopened boxes of documents were stacked. “Those are last year’s paper complaint forms. There wasn’t even anyone to log them into the system.” I opened the top box. The complaint forms were handwritten, the penmanship messy, but the complaint content was highly repetitive: “System page loading timeout,” “Data synchronization delay,” “Export function error.” All pointed to the same product module—the data analysis system newly added after the Knight Industries project went live. I pulled out twelve of them, arranging them by date. The earliest one was from five months ago. The Knight Industries data analysis system had gone live exactly six months ago. This meant problems started appearing just one month after launch. “Do management know about these complaints?” Sarah shrugged. “I mentioned it. Wrote two reports, sent them to the product department—no reply. Sent them to Eleanor—she said clients don’t understand technology, just need teaching.” She pulled out her phone to show me the email reply. Eleanor’s exact words: “Don’t overreact to minor issues. Clients need guidance, not indulgence.” Date: three months ago. I took photos of those twelve complaint forms and saved them to my cloud. At lunch, looking for a seat with my tray, I ran into Leo, a former colleague from the product department. He saw me and paused. “Luna, you…” “Yes, third floor.” He opened his mouth, then took his tray and sat at another table. At 1 PM, my phone rang again. Eleanor’s message: “Luna, Mr. Stark from Knight Industries asked about the details of the previous communication regarding requirement changes. Adrian hasn’t been in charge long and isn’t quite clear. Please help organize a summary and send it over; I need it by the end of the day.” Adrian hasn’t been in charge long. So he’s not clear. So they’re asking me, the ‘transferred’ person, to organize it. I replied with two words: “Too busy.” Three seconds later, Eleanor called. I hung up. She called again, and I hung up again. The third call was from Adrian. I simply turned off my phone. Sarah watched me turn off my phone, saying nothing. After a moment of silence, she pulled two chocolates from her drawer. “Want one? Not a fancy brand, just from the convenience store.” Crispy rice. Three dollars and fifty cents a bar. I unwrapped it and took a bite. Very sweet. It was the only sweet thing I’d eaten all week. 3 A week later, I cleared all four hundred and seventy-two backlog tickets. Not out of dedication, but because I needed to see all the data. I’d created a spreadsheet for every single complaint, categorizing them by product module, fault type, and frequency of occurrence. The night I finished, I spread the spreadsheet across my computer screen. Three hundred and nine entries pointed to the same module: the data analysis system’s underlying interface had severe concurrency handling flaws; it crashed as soon as the user load increased. This wasn’t a minor issue. It was a fundamental architectural flaw. And this module was the core deliverable of the Knight Industries project. Of the eight-million-dollar contract, three and a half million was paid for this module. I remembered it clearly, because that price was one I had negotiated line by line with Mr. Stark. I closed the spreadsheet, leaning back in my chair. The third-floor windows faced north, so I couldn’t see the sunset, but I could see the lights of the opposite office building flicker on, floor by floor. The second week, Eleanor came to the third floor. She wore a grey MaxMara coat and eight-centimeter stilettos. The moment she walked into the customer service department, her brows furrowed. “Why is it so dark? Why aren’t the broken lights reported for repair?” Old Man Jenkins quickly stood up. “Good afternoon, Ms. Hayes. Please, have a seat.” Eleanor didn’t sit. She walked over to me. “Luna, you wrote the Knight Industries system training manual before, where is it?” “I gave it all to Adrian during the handover.” “He said he couldn’t find it.” “I handed over thirty-eight documents and signed a handover form. If he can’t find it, he can check the form.” Eleanor’s face wasn’t pleasant. She lowered her voice, softening her tone slightly. “Luna, I know you’re upset, but Knight Industries is due for renewal soon. At this critical juncture, everyone needs to cooperate. Please help Adrian complete the training manual. Consider it a favor to the department.” “Which department?” She paused. “I’m with customer service now, Ms. Hayes.” Her lips twitched. As she turned to leave, her high heels clacked crisply on the threshold. Ten minutes after Eleanor left, Adrian’s message came in. “Luna, Eleanor said you have a draft of the training manual? Could you send me a copy if it’s convenient? Mr. Stark is pressing for it.” I didn’t reply. He sent another message: “If it’s really inconvenient, I’ll treat you to dinner. Please, just consider it a favor from an old colleague?” I sent his chat to the bottom of my list. That night, on my way home after overtime, I turned onto a street I’d never taken before. There was a twenty-four-hour print shop at the corner. I went in and printed something. Sarah had brought me dinner today: a box of pan-fried dumplings and a cup of soy milk. Eight dollars. As I ate, I saw a new email on her screen. The sender was Mr. Stark’s assistant from Knight Industries. The subject line read: “Formal Notification Regarding Product Stability Issues.” I paused, chewing my dumpling. Formal notification. Not a complaint ticket, not a phone complaint—a formal letter with a company seal. This meant Knight Industries no longer intended to resolve this issue internally. Sarah forwarded the email to Old Man Jenkins. Old Man Jenkins read it for a long time, then sighed. “I’ll forward it to the product department.” He cc’d Eleanor. Three days passed. No reply. 4 Mr. Stark from Knight Industries called the customer service department directly. Sarah answered, and I, sitting nearby, heard everything clearly. “I want to speak with Luna Vance.” Sarah covered the mouthpiece and looked at me. I hesitated for two seconds, then took the call. “Mr. Stark, this is Luna Vance.” Silence on the other end for three seconds. “I called your old extension, and they said you’d been transferred.” “Yes, I’ve been transferred to the customer service department.” More silence. “Luna, I’ll be frank with you. That new guy, Adrian, who came to present the proposal last time, stumbled over his PPT and couldn’t answer a single one of my three technical questions.” “I’m not in a position to comment on that.” “I’m not asking for your comment. I’m telling you, a big part of why we signed off on this project was your expertise. With you gone, it’s very difficult for me to explain this to the board.” “Mr. Stark, discussing the renewal with Ms. Hayes would be more appropriate.” He let out a cold laugh. “Ms. Hayes? At the last meeting, she couldn’t even grasp our industry jargon, just kept repeating ‘strategic empowerment’ and ‘ecological closed loop.’ Luna, to put it bluntly, if your company maintains this attitude, I cannot sign an eight-million-dollar renewal.” He hung up. I put down the phone. Sarah looked at me, her eyes wide. I shook my head at her. That afternoon at 2 PM, Eleanor called an online meeting. The product department, technology department, and customer service department were all required to attend. The topic was “Knight Industries Project Renewal Advancement Plan.” Old Man Jenkins pulled me to a corner of the third-floor conference room, with his laptop speaker on. Eleanor’s voice came through the speaker, full of vigor: “Knight Industries is the most important renewal client this year. Everyone must cooperate fully.” Adrian reported on the renewal plan. Eleanor asked a few details, and he answered vaguely. Eleanor smoothed things over, “Adrian just took over, and some historical details are still being sorted out. Please bear with him.” Then she said, “Customer service, have you received any feedback from Knight Industries recently?” Old Man Jenkins turned on his mic. “Yes, they sent a formal notification last week regarding the stability issues of the data analysis system. I forwarded it to the product department, but have not yet received a reply.” Silence in the meeting for two seconds. Eleanor’s voice changed tone. “What notification? I didn’t see it.” “Ms. Hayes, the email was sent last Wednesday. I cc’d you.” Eleanor didn’t address this. She said, “For technical issues reported by clients, customer service should first pacify them. Specific technical details will be followed up by the product department. Luna, you were previously responsible for this client and are familiar with their habits. Please cooperate with Adrian to handle client pacification.” Cooperate. Pacify. Credit to the product department, dirty work to customer service. I pressed the microphone button. “Ms. Hayes, the client’s feedback isn’t about usage habits; it’s a concurrency handling flaw at the system’s core. I’ve compiled the past six months of complaint data, and three hundred and nine tickets point to the same module. This isn’t something pacification can solve.” Eleanor’s voice grew cold. “Luna, technical judgments are for the product and technology departments to make. Customer service should stick to your responsibilities.” “Understood.” I turned off my mic. Old Man Jenkins glanced at me, saying nothing. After work, I didn’t leave. I reorganized all the complaint data, creating a comprehensive analysis report. Charts, timelines, fault frequency curves, number of affected clients. Twelve pages. I saved two copies. One in the customer service shared folder on the company server. One in my own cloud drive.

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1 Ben and I were notorious in our social circle as the “Eight-Time Divorcees.” After our ninth remarriage, I reined in my temper, and he settled down. For a time, we became the model couple of our set. At my birthday dinner, he received a call, his face etched with urgency. “Hannah, something urgent needs my attention. I have to go deal with it.” I didn’t mind, continuing to enjoy myself with friends. That is, until my arch-rival, James Forrester, sent me a photo of Ben embracing a woman at the airport. I stared intently at the couple on the screen. I dialed Ben’s number: “Darling, will you be home tonight?” He was silent for a moment before replying, “The situation is a bit complicated. Don’t wait up for me.” After hanging up, I immediately had someone investigate the woman’s identity. … At three in the morning, I stood by the window, looking at Penelope Hayes’ file. All the women he’d kept as mistresses before looked just like her. I smoked one cigarette after another. Our first divorce was because he’d given a deal to a competitor, and I slapped him. The second was when he called out the wrong name while drunk, and I burned down our marital home. The ninth remarriage, at the doors of the registry office. He said, “Hannah Lieberstein, are we insane?” I laughed, tears choking me. Just before dawn, Ben returned, carrying the scent of jasmine. He frowned, snatching the cigarette from my hand: “Smoking again? Who said they were trying to conceive six months ago?” I looked up at him. A year ago, after my parents’ plane crash, he found me, holding me and saying, “I’m here, don’t be afraid.” So I curbed my temper, and he settled down. Now, for his long-lost love, his heart had wandered again. But the word “divorce” caught in my throat. “Ben Morgan, will you cheat again?” He paused, then embraced me from behind: “Talking nonsense again. Who’s been filling your head with stories?” His failure to answer was the best answer. I pulled away from his embrace: “I’m going to the office.” After my parents’ passing, Lieberstein Industries was left in my hands. All morning, I kept a stern face, scolding two ineffective directors. By five in the afternoon, I had finished processing documents. I called Ben: “Dinner at the family estate tonight. Don’t forget.” “Alright.” I arrived at the Morgan family estate on time. But Ben was late. As Mr. Morgan’s face darkened, I calmly dialed Ben’s number. A woman’s voice answered: “Hello, Mr. Morgan is busy. I’m his assistant. If there’s anything, you can tell me.” I paused, stunned. He actually let Penelope answer his phone. He never allowed me to touch his phone, claiming it contained company secrets. Apparently, it wasn’t that no one could touch it; it was just that I wasn’t the exception. I pretended to accidentally press the speakerphone button. Ben’s voice came through the speaker, with the sound of running water in the background. “Penelope, the showerhead’s been replaced, throw the old one away.” Penelope’s tone was so natural. The living room was deathly silent. Mr. Morgan violently smashed his teacup. I lowered my head, my shoulders trembling slightly. When I looked up again, my eyes were appropriately red-rimmed. “Dad, Mom, since Ben’s true love has returned, I’m willing to step aside. I’ll have my lawyer prepare the divorce agreement.” “Nonsense!” Mrs. Morgan interrupted me, coming over to grasp my hand. “The only daughter-in-law of the Morgan family will always be you. As for that… person, and that scoundrel son, the Morgan family will give you an explanation.” That evening, Ben was mercilessly given ten lashes by Mr. Morgan and forced to kneel all night. The next day, Mrs. Morgan personally came to my office, placing two hundred-million-dollar contracts on my desk. She sighed: “Hannah, you’ve been wronged. This is the Morgan family’s compensation.” I took the contracts, smiling meekly: “Mom, let’s not talk business among family.” Mrs. Morgan left, satisfied. But I gripped the contracts tightly. 2 All day, Ben didn’t send a single message. I pushed down the disappointment in my heart. I resumed processing documents. Assistant Miller stood beside me, holding a stack of files, hesitant to speak. “Go on, what’s the bad news now?” “Ms. Lieberstein, Morgan Group has refused to pay the two hundred million dollars for the cooperation, citing a breach of protocol.” I slowly looked up: “Give me the documents.” I drove to the Morgan Group building. I walked to Ben’s private elevator, swiped my card, no response. Tried again, still nothing. Just then, the receptionist, Daisy, hurried over. Her face was flushed with embarrassment and tension: “M-Ma’am, Ms. Hayes said that for the CEO’s security and efficiency, the access permissions were reset last week. Now, only Mr. Morgan and her cards can use this elevator.” “Ms. Hayes?” I raised an eyebrow, my voice calm, “Penelope Hayes?” Daisy lowered her head, not daring to look at me: “Y-yes.” I smiled, gently placing the elevator card back into my bag: “Alright, got it.” I walked to the employee elevator. Upon reaching the top floor, I headed straight for Ben’s office. “Ms. Lieberstein, please stop.” Penelope stood up, blocking my path. “Do you have an appointment? Mr. Morgan is currently…” I directly slapped her across the face. “What are you, get out of my way.” Before she could react, I reached out and pushed open the door. Ben was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, on the phone. Hearing the commotion, he turned around. Seeing it was me, he frowned, hurriedly giving a few instructions into the phone before hanging up. “Hannah, why are you here?” I threw the documents in my hand onto his desk. “Explain.” He picked up the documents and flipped through them. At this moment, Penelope looked at him, her face full of grievance. He frowned slightly, looking at her swollen red cheek. I thought he was going to scold me, but he just gently took my hand. “Hannah, your hand isn’t hurt, is it?” “Ben Morgan, you know me. I’m someone who holds grudges and can’t tolerate any slight.” “Especially on my territory. I don’t want to see her at Morgan Group again.” He was silent for a few seconds, eventually sighing, his tone indulgent: “Alright, I understand. I’ll arrange for her to leave.” As his words fell, Penelope ran out, crying. Ben’s body unconsciously took two steps towards her, then stopped. Watching her retreating figure, he suddenly remembered that rainy night years ago. Penelope had unhesitatingly shielded him from an opponent’s bottle. But later, Mrs. Morgan forcibly sent her away. From then on, she became the untouchable love of his heart. So now, whatever she wanted, he gave. “Come on, let’s go home together.” All the way home, he was distracted. He answered several questions incorrectly. His heart really had wandered again. During dinner, his phone rang repeatedly. Eventually, he answered it. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” He hung up, grabbed his jacket, and left. “Hannah, I’m going back to the office.” After he left, I followed him to the restaurant indicated by his phone’s GPS. My eyes immediately fell upon the intimately entwined pair. Watching their intimate scene, I fiercely dug my nails into my palms. This was the first time I had seen him so passionately, so desirous of another person. Penelope shot me a defiant smile. I took pictures of the two of them wrapped in each other’s arms. Then, I sent the video to Mrs. Morgan and to Ben. [Ben Morgan, let’s get a divorce.] 3 After sending the message, I returned home. I looked at the wedding photos hanging on the wall. I took them down, cut them into pieces, and scattered them on the floor. He returned as I was clearing things away. I handed him the divorce agreement. “Ben Morgan, sign it.” Having said that, I no longer looked at him. I rose to leave, but my vision suddenly went black, and I collapsed to the floor. When I next woke, I was in a hospital. The entire Morgan family was in the room. Mrs. Morgan grabbed my hand: “Hannah, such a big thing as pregnancy, why didn’t you tell us?” My mind instantly went blank—pregnant. The careful counting of days for the past few months, filled with anticipation, now only left a bitter irony. Because of the pregnancy, Ben and I couldn’t finalize the divorce. I heard Penelope had been sent away. He seemed to have returned to the time when we were deeply in love. The night before leaving for Port City, I felt an inexplicable unease and pushed open the door to Ben’s study. He was staring blankly out the window, a long ash accumulating on his cigarette, a habit he adopted when he was troubled. Neither of us spoke. The next day, my arch-rival James Forrester invited me to Port City for a collaboration discussion. I didn’t want to go, but then I remembered Ben was also in Port City. So I agreed. This collaboration with James went unusually smoothly. After signing, he leaned back lazily on the sofa, his phone screen lighting up. He glanced at it, a wicked smile playing on his lips. “Ms. Lieberstein, would you be interested in seeing something interesting? It’s right next door.” “I guarantee you won’t be disappointed.” In the adjoining private room, Ben and Penelope sat in the center. Compliments abounded: “Mr. Morgan and his wife are truly devoted; even in Port City, he doesn’t forget to bring his wife.” I composed myself, then pushed open the door. The laughter and conversation abruptly ceased. Everyone looked at me. My gaze fell on Ben. “What a coincidence. I just finished talking with Mr. Forrester next door. Hearing Mr. Morgan was here, I came to say hello.” I raised my wine glass towards him: “Mr. Morgan, long time no see.” Then I smiled at the others: “Hello everyone, I’m Hannah Lieberstein of Lieberstein Industries. Nice to meet you. Welcome to collaborate with Lieberstein Industries in the future.” I took a small sip of wine, put down my glass: “I won’t disturb you all. I’ll take my leave now.” Penelope stared at my retreating back, fiercely digging her nails into her palms. A slight smirk, however, played on her lips. James laughed softly: “Hannah Lieberstein, you truly haven’t changed. You never concede an inch.” I turned my head and smiled faintly: “Mr. Forrester, you flatter me. It was a pleasure working with you.” After getting into the car, I directly instructed the driver to take me home. On the way, I called my lawyer, Mr. Wright. “Mr. Wright, please draft a divorce agreement for me.” After hanging up, I rubbed my temples. Suddenly, an intense light shone directly at us. The car began to swerve erratically. I gripped the handle tightly. Bang—! My vision blurred in waves. I struggled to open the car door and crawled out. I dialed Ben’s number. “Ben Morgan, I’ve been in…” Before I could finish, Penelope’s voice came through the receiver. Then the call was disconnected. I refused to give up and dialed his number again. It was hung up repeatedly. Rain fell on my face, and I suddenly remembered him saying on our wedding day, “I’ll never hang up on you in this lifetime.” Apparently, vows can expire. Just then, my phone lit up. It was a text message from Penelope. A photo of them passionately kissing. Below it was a single sentence. [Hannah Lieberstein, you lost. He chose to abandon you again.] I gasped for air. The pain in my chest made me ignore the physical pain. I curled up on the ground, my vision beginning to blur, able to see only a figure rushing towards me against the light. “Hannah—!”

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I took him, a scholarship student, by force. He remained distant and aloof, but I didn’t care. Every day, I’d demand hugs, kisses, and piggyback rides. Until, on our wedding night, subtitles suddenly appeared before my eyes. [The male lead has a germ phobia! He washes eight hundred times every time the side character touches him.] [So cute, the male lead has been saving himself for the female lead.] [Oh my goodness, is the side character going to force herself on him again tonight?! I can’t wait to fast forward to the ending where she loses everything!] I was horrified. I quickly unlocked the handcuffs on Hayes’s wrists. “Um… I suddenly feel that, in terms of our married life, a platonic relationship might be better.” Hayes’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He asked in a hoarse voice, “What position is platonic?” 1 On our wedding night, I cuffed Hayes to the bedpost. I was getting ready to do what I usually did, quite expertly. Red marks already bloomed on Hayes’s wrists, his shirt open to reveal a lean, sculpted torso. His Adam’s apple bobbed, his eyes shrouded in an unreadable darkness. I straddled him, using the small leather whip I held to lift his chin. Hayes’s breathing grew heavy, his muscular chest subtly rising and falling. His pale skin was flushed with a strange, delicate pink. My desire surged, and I pounced like a famished lion. The next second, countless subtitles materialized before my eyes. [AHHHHHH! Can the side character just disappear?!] [GERM PHOBIA ALERT! GERM PHOBIA ALERT! He washes eight hundred times every time this woman touches him!] [My heart aches! Hayes has been saving himself for the female lead, only to be forcibly taken by this crazy woman.] [On their wedding night, is this evil side character going to force herself on him again? The male lead’s first time belongs to the female lead!] [I wish I could fast forward to the ending where the side character’s family is ruined!] I froze, my brain crashing from the sheer volume of information. The whip slipped from my hand, landing on Hayes’s abs. He let out a soft groan, a sound that was indescribably sexy. The subtitles kept scrolling. [Almost there, almost there! The female lead will appear soon to save him!] [Does this evil side character think she’s amazing just because she has some money? The male lead hates arrogant, spoiled rich girls like her the most.] [Countdown to ruin: Side character’s dad’s company explodes, she goes bankrupt, and has to beg on her knees at the male lead and female lead’s wedding, hahahahaha!] I was horrified. A handsome man was precious, but money was more valuable. I immediately fumbled to uncuff Hayes’s wrists. “Um…” I said, unable to meet his gaze, my voice wavering. “Even though we’re married…” “I suddenly feel that, in terms of our married life, a platonic relationship might be better.” Hayes was free, but he remained in his original position, unmoving. After a moment of silence, he licked his lips, asking in a husky voice, “What position is platonic?” I choked, stammering, “It’s… it’s hard to explain right now.” “You… you can look it up yourself.” Never mind, just run. I swiftly grabbed my duvet. “I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight.” As I was about to leave, I heard a rustling sound behind me. I turned to see Hayes picking up the black lace lingerie I’d left by the bed, which I hadn’t had a chance to put on. “What are you doing?” He didn’t look up, calmly stating, “Didn’t you say you’re sleeping in the guest room?” “I accidentally… wasn’t careful and soiled the sheets here.” My face instantly burned. My palms still felt hot and damp. Remembering the sensual scene just moments ago, my mind was filled with Hayes’s restrained gasps. Desire had clouded my judgment. It took several seconds to realize he’d misunderstood me, and I quickly explained: “I’ll go alone; you don’t need to follow.” “It means we’ll be sleeping in separate rooms from now on.” I took a deep breath, trying to look sincere. “I was wrong before, I didn’t respect your wishes or feelings. I won’t do that anymore.” Without waiting for Hayes’s reply, I fled. 2 I rushed into the guest room. I locked the door, leaning against it, still breathless and shaken. Thankfully, I’d slammed on the brakes in time. Otherwise, it would have been irreversible. The subtitles kept scrolling: [OMG, the side character actually let the male lead go???] [She’s playing hard to get, isn’t she? Scheming women are best at that!] [Male lead, run—no, female lead, appear!] [When will the side character realize the male lead doesn’t like her at all! He’s only staying with her to repay a debt!] I buried my face in the pillow, deflated. So, every time I initiated physical contact with Hayes, he would immediately go shower. It wasn’t because Hayes was naturally aloof or abstinent, but because he found me… dirty. And his passive acceptance of my demands? It was all for the sake of repaying a debt, enduring humiliation. Even marrying me was born out of sheer desperation. Though I knew this was all part of the plot, that the male and female leads were destined to be together, tears still pricked at my eyes, betraying me. Hayes had been the only scholarship student at our elite boarding school. The first time I saw him was in the summer of our freshman year. He wore a white shirt, speaking as the top student under the school flag. Strands of hair swayed gently in the wind, his nose bridge high, his brow bone deep-set. The moment our eyes met, my heart skipped a beat. On graduation day, I cornered him outside his dorm to confess my feelings. Hayes looked down at me for a long time, then calmly said, “We’re not suited for each other.” “Why not?” I pressed, my eyes welling up. Hayes’s tone remained calm. “Nowhere are we suited.” I, having been spoiled since childhood, tasted rejection for the first time. In an instant, I was furious and anxious. And, having read too many novels at a young age, my brain was a bit scrambled. I don’t know where I got the courage, but I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him hard. Then I declared defiantly: “A bitter fruit is still a fruit!” “Even if you don’t like me, I’ll still have you.” Later, I learned Hayes’s father had a gambling problem and owed a lot of money, and his mother had fallen seriously ill and was hospitalized due to stress. I paid off his father’s debts and moved his mother to the best nursing home. From that day on, Hayes no longer resisted my presence. I had genuinely believed he felt something for me, even if it was just gratitude. I rolled over, wiping away my tears. Forget it. Whether he liked me or not, the most important thing now was to save myself. 3 Lying in bed, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Usually, I’d cling to Hayes like an octopus, burying my head in his neck, inhaling the faint scent of his shower gel, and quickly drifting off. Now, hugging empty air, I stayed awake until 2 AM. The next morning, I woke up with dark circles under my eyes and headed to work early. I deliberately avoided any chance of seeing him, and didn’t pester him to drive me as usual. All day, I surprisingly didn’t send Hayes any messages. Before, I’d call him eight hundred times a day to check in. Every ten minutes, I’d ask him, “What are you doing?”, “Do you miss me?”, “Send some hot pics.” Today, I stubbornly set his chat to Do Not Disturb. By noon, I couldn’t resist checking my phone. No messages. Eleven o’clock, checked again. Still no messages. Twelve o’clock, lunchtime. My phone finally rang. My heart skipped a beat. I eagerly picked it up— It was the delivery driver. “Hello, your takeout is at the front desk.” “…Oh.” I hung up, telling myself: Good, just like this. Slowly wean yourself off him. He’s not contacting you, which saves you the trouble of figuring out how to reply. This is a good thing, a great thing. The subtitles flared up again: [The side character isn’t bothering the male lead today? The sun must be rising in the west.] [It’s an act, she’s definitely planning something bad.] [The male lead finally has some peace today, hooray!] I pretended not to see them and ate my lunch. 2 PM, a meeting. 3 PM, replying to emails. 4 PM, reviewing documents. 5 PM, quitting time. I didn’t leave. I lingered in the office until six, seven, eight. The sky outside had turned completely dark. My phone suddenly rang. Caller ID: Hayes. I stared at the name for five seconds, then hesitantly answered. “Hello?” Hayes’s voice, low and calm, came through. “Busy today?” “Ah, yes, overtime,” I said, picking at my fingers, my voice soft. “Then I’ll come pick you up.” “No, no need.” I refused without thinking. In the past, I would have jumped for joy. But now, keeping my distance from Hayes and not annoying him was paramount. “My assistant is driving me.” “No need to trouble you.” Silence stretched for a few seconds on the other end. I thought he would hang up. But he didn’t. The silence continued. I heard his breathing, soft, steady. “…Hayes?” “Hm.” After a long pause, he spoke again. “Then be careful on your way.” “I’ll wait for you at home.” “Okay.” “Text me when you’re off work.” “…Okay.” I looked at my phone screen, feeling a pang of sadness. I finally lingered until eleven before I had to go home. Pushing open the front door, the living room was pitch black. I thought Hayes had already gone to bed, so I tiptoed to switch on the light. Instead, I was startled. Hayes was sitting alone on the sofa. No TV on, no phone in hand, just sitting there. The light caught his profile, half-illuminated, half-shadowed. His expression was unreadable. He wore loungewear, his hair a little messy, as if he’d showered and then waited for a long time. I clutched my chest. “What are you doing? You scared me.” He was silent for a moment, then finally spoke. “Today, I logged into your account.” “I noticed many people calling you ‘baby’.” When he said this, his voice was calm, but his eyes never left me. My heart skipped a beat. That WeChat account, constantly sending “baby” messages, was actually my best friend Clara’s second account. She and her younger boyfriend recently had a unique dynamic, where she used a male avatar and called herself “husband,” and he used a female avatar and called himself “wife.” I was about to explain, but the subtitles scrolled past again: [The male lead was just using the study computer for work and logged into the wrong account!] [Is the side character overthinking again? Who told her to set the male lead’s phone and computer passwords to be the same as hers, just to check up on him? Otherwise, he wouldn’t have logged in wrong.] [LOL, the queen of self-pity.] The subtitles were right. He couldn’t be jealous of me. He was just stating facts. Or perhaps he was unaccustomed to my aloofness, just making conversation. I took a deep breath, absently giving a vague answer: “I’ll change it.” Hayes seemed surprised by my candor, freezing for a moment. “What?” I patiently explained: “The password.” “I’ll change the password.” The usually composed man suddenly darkened. I looked at him, bewildered, and mumbled, “Don’t worry, I won’t use your computer indiscriminately anymore.” “All those pop-up messages today must have disturbed your work, right?” “Sorry, sorry, I’ll be more careful next time.” The subtitles were full of question marks: [Hold on! Hold on! What did the side character just say she’d change? She said she’d change the password?] [No, is this right? Is it the password that needs changing?] [I’m actually dying of laughter, sounds like the side character’s delirious after too much overtime.] The atmosphere was a bit heavy. Seeing he didn’t reply, I prepared to discreetly leave. “Then I’ll go back to my room and sleep.” Just as I turned to walk to the guest room, Hayes suddenly called out, “Wait.” I turned back. He stood in the center of the living room, the light casting a long shadow behind him. “No kisses, hugs, or piggyback rides today.” This was a rule I had set for Hayes before. Every day, he had to give me kisses, hugs, and piggyback rides. I thought it would foster intimacy. But ever since I learned Hayes actually found me repulsive, I didn’t dare dance on his landmines anymore. My head shook like a rattle, and I quickly said, “No need.” “Not anymore?” Hayes frowned slightly, emotions churning in his eyes. I nodded furiously. “No need for any of it.” “It’s too childish, it was my fault for always dragging you into my silly games.” Hayes hummed, his eyelashes fluttering. “Then… good night.” “Good night,” I said. Hayes paused, then said in a low voice, “Good night.” I turned and went upstairs. At the corner, I couldn’t resist looking back. Hayes was still standing there, looking in my direction. When he saw me look back, his eyes seemed to brighten. The subtitles immediately exploded: [Was the male lead waiting for the side character to regret it and go back to kiss him? No way, right?] [How could that be? The male lead is probably trying not to laugh, hahahahahahaha, afraid he’ll burst out laughing!] [Exactly, exactly. He finally got rid of this troublesome side character, he must be overjoyed.] I snapped back to reality, disappointed, and walked into the guest room. A dull ache settled in my chest.

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1 My husband’s mistress and I share the same birthday. So, at dinner, my son, Charlie, asked, “Mom, are we celebrating your birthday a day early again this year?” My husband, Sean, didn’t look up from his plate. “No time for that.” “This year, Ms. Harris is turning twenty-five, and I’m taking her diving in Bora Bora. We need to take swimming lessons in advance these few days, so there’s no time.” I hadn’t expected that after five years of celebrating my birthday a day early, this year, there would be nothing at all. Charlie, however, perked up. “I want to go diving too! Dad, can you take me with you?” Sean nodded, silently agreeing, then looked at me. “Hannah, send me your birthday wishes on my phone. Whatever you want, I’ll make it happen.” My birthday wish was for a divorce. … As I cleared the table, Sean made a call to Sarah Harris. “Charlie wants to come along too, is that okay with you?” Sarah giggled in response. “What’s not okay? Are you planning something naughty?” Sean leaned lazily against the kitchen cabinet. “Naughty, huh?” He chuckled, fiddling with the new shelf I’d just bought. “Alright, you just wait till I see you.” While they bantered, I looked at Charlie. “Are you really going? Not spending Mom’s birthday with me?” Charlie tapped on his phone. “Yeah, it’ll be more fun with Dad and Ms. Harris.” I said nothing, went back to the bedroom, and took out a suitcase to pack their clothes. Suddenly, I remembered Sean and my first trip together. We were eighteen, and we were scammed out of 500 dollars just to hang a “love lock.” Sean comforted me. “When I make money, I’ll buy all these locks. You can hang them however you want.” Our love story had been so passionate, so grand, why had it turned into this? I still remembered when I found Sean’s flirtatious texts with Sarah on his phone. I cried, demanding a divorce, and Sean was so terrified he knelt before me. “Baby, I was wrong. I promise it won’t happen again. I’ll make her leave the company tomorrow.” Later, Sean openly gave Sarah the status of his girlfriend. Dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, he told me, “Hannah, don’t worry, I know how to separate home life from outside life. I won’t let her affect your life.” I was so angry I smashed the matching mugs we’d bought when we got married. That night, I thought a lot. I thought of Sean’s awkward confession, his wedding vows, and his eyes, red and pained, when I gave birth to Charlie. I looked at our son, sleeping soundly in his crib. The next day, I bought two acrylic mugs and accepted Sarah’s existence. My thoughts were interrupted by Charlie, who rushed into the room. “Mom, I don’t want to wear these ugly clothes you bought.” I held Charlie’s small hand. “You have a sensitive respiratory system; the wind at the beach is strong, you need something warm.” “No, I don’t!” Charlie’s crying brought Sean into the room, his phone put away. “Alright, Hannah, it’s hot in Bora Bora. These clothes are too much. The three of us will go shopping tomorrow.” “You don’t need to pack anymore.” With one sentence, he negated a whole night of my efforts. I took out the nasal spray I had prepared for Sean and Charlie from the suitcase. Since they didn’t need it, I wouldn’t give them anything. 2 When I dropped Charlie off at his after-school class, he bragged to the other kids. “My dad and mom are going diving in the Philippines soon!” A child glanced at me. “Your mom doesn’t look like she can dive.” Charlie let go of my hand. “Not this mom.” He quickly explained. “It’s another mom, prettier and younger.” “If you don’t believe me, wait after class. My mom is taking me shopping.” So, after class, Charlie pointed to Sarah, with her big wavy hair in a Rolls-Royce, and shouted. “She’s my other mom.” Charlie ran to Sarah, bathed in the envious glances of the other children. “Mom.” Sarah smiled in response. “No shame,” Sean said, his hand on the steering wheel, laughing. “You, a twenty-year-old girl, wanting to be a mom.” “What? You don’t want to be my baby daddy? Then I’ll find someone else.” Sarah raised an eyebrow, and Sean pulled her into his arms, giving her waist a playful pinch. “You dare?” She immediately pouted, feigning weakness. “I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t.” Her laughter reached my ears. Watching the two most important people in my life gathered around Sarah, I turned my back in self-mockery. I once thought that as long as I didn’t leave, Sean’s true love would still be me, and I could give Charlie a complete family. But now, it seemed I was the superfluous one. As I walked home, a downpour began, and I took shelter under a bus stop. I remembered the last time I took a bus, it was with Sean, carrying our suitcases after graduating from university. There were no empty seats on the bus, so Sean had me sit on a suitcase, his hand tightly gripping the pole, shielding me in front of him. Back then, our destination was a rented room. Today, we had our own home, but we no longer shared the same destination. Thinking of this, I got onto the bus that had just stopped. My rain-soaked hands couldn’t unlock my phone, and as the driver impatiently frowned, Sean’s calls kept coming in. The phone vibrated and slipped from my hand. I scrambled into the rain, and the driver cursed, “Wasting time.” As the bus pulled away, water splashed onto my pants, leaving dark mud spots. On the phone, Sean’s voice was accusing. “What are you doing? Why aren’t you answering your phone?” “It’s raining outside, I…” “Enough.” Clearly, Sean wasn’t truly interested in my situation. “I just wanted to tell you Charlie won’t be home for dinner. Sarah’s taking the little rascal out for pizza.” “You tell her.” Charlie’s childish voice came through. “I’m going to eat pizza with Ms. Sarah. Don’t make me that disgusting multigrain porridge.” Then laughter erupted, Sarah sounding a bit smug. “I told you no kid likes porridge, but you wouldn’t believe me!” “Alright, you win,” Sean said dotingly. “You’ll be in charge of the house from now on.” I could almost picture Sarah’s unrestrained, smiling face, a stark contrast to my current humiliation. I simply said, “Got it.” As I put my phone in my pocket, I accidentally felt two coins. It suddenly dawned on me that Sean had once craved candied hawthorn from the elementary school gate, and the old vendor didn’t use mobile payments. I had specifically exchanged cash to go find him. But that string of candied hawthorn was later forgotten by Sean on the dining table, leaving a sticky mess of syrup that was incredibly hard to clean. I laughed at myself self-deprecatingly. The bus I couldn’t get on, I wouldn’t ride. I didn’t go home; instead, I went to a lawyer’s office. 3 I waited on the sofa until ten at night. When I saw Sean put the sleeping Charlie on the bed, I brought up the topic of divorce with him. “Sean Davies, I will no longer interfere with your relationship with Sarah. Let’s part amicably.” Sean’s usually impassive face rarely showed emotion. “Hannah, if this is because I didn’t celebrate your birthday this year, I apologize.” “It’s just that Sarah is still a young girl, so it’s right for me to prioritize her a bit.” But I also followed Sean when I was young, burning through my youth until I became a worn-out wife. I shook my head. “It has nothing to do with her. I just don’t want to be with you anymore.” Sean tightened his grip on the water glass. “I don’t understand. We’ve been through five years, why are you making a scene now?” “We’re going abroad tomorrow; do you have to pick a fight tonight?!” The moment the cup hit the floor, I was only grateful it was acrylic. Sean put on his jacket and walked out of the room. “Going down for a cigarette, don’t wait up for me.” I next saw him at the airport. I ran into him, Charlie, and Sarah. She still had that same smiling expression. “Hannah, I specifically sent Sean home last night to pack, but he suddenly showed up in the middle of the night and clung to me for a while. Did you two have a fight?” “From now on, just let him stay with you.” I pushed Charlie towards Sarah, and Charlie happily grabbed her hand. “Sean too, I told him we could celebrate my birthday casually, but he went and planned a trip abroad.” I looked at Sean, who was checking in ahead. “When we get back, I’ll have him make it up to you with a proper birthday celebration.” Sarah’s face held a triumphant boast, and I suppressed all the words I wanted to say deep down. I couldn’t compete with that young body, so I wouldn’t. Sean took Sarah’s hand, with its extra-long manicure. “Hannah, we’re leaving.” A rare hint of guilt appeared in his eyes. “Remember to send me your birthday wishes. I’ll make sure to fulfill whatever I can.” “Dad, hurry up! Don’t waste time with her. I want to ride the big airplane.” Charlie pulled Sean and Sarah, skipping towards security. After returning home, I developed a high fever. Feeling disoriented, I just hid under the covers. In a daze, I dreamt of Sean. He was still twenty years old, holding my hand, playfully calling me his wife. “Good girl, sweetheart, take your medicine so you can get well.” He held the prepared medicine to his lips to test its temperature. “Perfect, drink it now.” When I woke up, all I heard was the loud ringing of my phone. I croaked a hoarse reply. “Hannah Davies, why didn’t you bring the nasal spray?” “Don’t you know the wind is strong at the beach? Charlie and I will get sick!” Sean dragged me back to reality, yelling impatiently. “Alright, just text me the medicine’s name. I’ll buy it myself. You’re such a hassle.” The phone went dead, and the tears I thought had long since dried finally flowed again. I profoundly understood one thing: Sean and I could never go back. I itemized all income and real estate since my marriage to Sean. I decided not to fight for Charlie’s custody, with only one condition: Sean must not have any more children, a promise he had made early on. I handed these documents to my lawyer, and the divorce agreement was quickly drafted. 4 Before deciding to leave, I went to visit Sean’s mother. When I was in school, she would always have Sean bring me home, constantly piling food onto my plate. “Eat more, little Hannah, you’re so thin.” Those words, to me, an orphan, brought the warmth of a home. My marriage to Sean was natural, almost devoid of any heartache from love. That’s why I swallowed my pride for those five years, nearly losing myself completely. When I entered, my mother-in-law was on a video call. She looked at Sean and Sarah on the screen, an unstoppable smile on her face. “You rascal, Sarah is still young, you should be more considerate.” Sean ruffled Sarah’s hair. “She’s only young, but she has a bigger temper than anyone. She gets mad if she eats one more bite.” My mother-in-law’s tone was doting. “Little Sarah, you should eat more, look how thin you’ve become.” My movement to take off my shoes paused. When my mother-in-law looked over, I hastily lowered my head, hiding my bloodshot eyes. My mother-in-law put away her phone and called out, “Little Hannah, come in quickly.” “No, Mom, I haven’t changed my shoes. I won’t go in.” I opened my umbrella and walked through the park where Sean and I used to stroll during university. Under the most lush tree there, we had buried our hamster, which we had raised together for three years. Sean wiped away my tears, calling me useless. “If I were gone one day, how much would you cry?” He sprinkled the last handful of dirt, then hugged me. I would forever remember his soft voice saying, “Hannah, I’ll always be with you.” He knew better than anyone that my parents had died young, and I had lived alone for over a decade. He was already my entire world. But his world didn’t belong to me alone. I sat on a wooden bench in the park, watching the time. At midnight, I sent him the divorce agreement. “Sean, this is my birthday wish.” The next moment, my phone rang. I had never seen Sean so furious. “Hannah Davies, why are you sending messages now? Because I was looking at your damn message, I didn’t hold onto Sarah, and now she’s in the hospital from drowning!” “I don’t care what you’re doing, you get over here now and take care of Sarah until she’s out of danger!” After the call ended, I received flight information: a 2 AM flight, with two layovers. It was the fastest way to get to the Philippines. When I saw them, Sarah had already regained consciousness. The first to rush up was Charlie. “Bad mom! It’s all your fault Ms. Sarah is like this!” “I hate you!” I let his small fists hit me, but my eyes were on Sean. He clearly hadn’t slept all night and was now carefully feeding Sarah water. “Good girl, drink more water, you’ll recover faster.” Sarah looked at me. “Hannah, you actually came. I don’t blame you; it’s my own lack of skill.” “After three days of diving lessons, I still didn’t dare to let go of Sean’s hand. I’m so clumsy.” “Even if you’re clumsy, I’ll take care of you. I’ll never let go of your hand again.” Sean’s eyes were overflowing with tenderness. “I was so scared, I almost lost you forever. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t live either, Sarah.” Sean leaned his head against Sarah’s face. Even though I was used to it, I couldn’t help but get red eyes, touched by their love and saddened by my own fate. The doctor walked in with the test results. “Ms. Harris, blood tests show you’re pregnant, estimated to be six weeks along.” This news hit me like a bomb, my mind going blank. “That’s wonderful!” “Sean, we’re going to have our own baby!” “No!” I rushed forward. “Sean Davies, what did you promise me?!” I looked at Charlie; he didn’t understand what all this meant. “Hannah Davies, do you have a say here?” “Get over here!” Sean dragged me into the hallway. “Sean Davies, you promised me you’d never have children with another woman!” Sean scoffed. “You have my child, why can’t Sarah have one?” “What about Charlie?! Your money, your company, will it go to Charlie or to Sarah’s child?” “Can you be fair to both?!” “I can.” Sean’s tone softened, and I exhaled. “Sean Davies, I don’t want Charlie to turn out like me. Make Sarah get an abortion.” The words had barely left my lips when a slap landed on my face. “No one is going to hurt Sarah again!” My ears buzzed. I saw Sean extend his hand. “Get out! Get out of my sight!” “Sean Davies,” I looked at him. “It’s my birthday today.” “You promised you’d fulfill all my wishes.” “All I know is it’s Sarah’s birthday today!” His eyes were filled with disgust. “I don’t have time to look at your stupid wishes now. Get out, I never want to see you again!” Charlie, hearing the commotion, also rushed out. He mimicked Sean, yelling at me, “Get out! Get out!” But I smiled. “Okay.” “Sean Davies, remember what you said.” I walked out of the hospital, and in the Philippines, I did the last thing I had planned for Sean. Half a month later, Sean received a phone call. “Hello, is this Mr. Davies? This is the Chinese Hospital in the Philippines. It has been confirmed that a deceased person is your wife, Hannah Davies.”

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It was the fifth year of my marriage when I met my eighteen-year-old husband. He sized me up, a puzzled frown on his face. “Why would I marry you ten years from now?” I asked him what he wanted to do. The young man, with an air of complete conviction, replied: “Get a divorce. The sooner, the better. I can’t let my future self marry someone I don’t love.” I nodded, agreeing to his terms, and began to subtly distance myself from Matt. Until one day, I left work early and heard a violent brawl erupting from inside the house. “Spreading rumors about me? You little punk, you think a thirty-three-year-old me can’t see through your eighteen-year-old schemes?” A younger voice roared back, “You’re ancient! Why do you get to eat so well?” “Hate your future self, just die!!” My response: ? 1 The first time I saw Matt, I knew something was off. He was so… young. Too young. None of the effortless poise, none of the deep, unfathomable cunning I was accustomed to. He sat sprawled on the couch like a mere kid, his face still holding a touch of youthful plumpness that softened his otherwise sharp features, making them less intimidating. His first words stunned me. “Who are you?” “Laura,” I replied. Matt wore a casual hoodie and designer sneakers. The arrogance on his face seemed genuine, not a pretense. It was obvious. Either my husband of five years had de-aged, or this was his identical twin brother. I pondered for a moment, then pointed directly to our huge wedding portrait. “As you can see, I’m married to you.” Matt exploded. He shot to his feet, already showing the subtle bearing of someone used to authority. “Married?” “To you?” His tone dripped with disdain, his words laced with shock, his expression pure disgust. I subtly pulled my gaze away, calmly stating, “It’s my turn to ask questions.” Matt seemed taken aback by my composure, visibly pausing. His eyes lingered on my face a little too long before he cleared his throat, rubbing his nose and looking away. “Uh… go on, ask.” Three minutes later, I understood. The person before me was an eighteen-year-old Matt. No wonder he was so arrogant. I couldn’t help but stare intently at this younger version of my husband. It was, honestly, a fascinating experience. Matt rarely spoke of his past, and all I knew of him came from our married life. Perhaps my gaze was too open, too undisguised, because the Matt on the couch grew visibly flustered. He awkwardly drew in his long legs, trying to focus on the faint music playing in the background. After several attempts, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Look, can you stop staring at me?” I peered down at his face. His fair skin was flushed with pink, even his earlobes were red. As he wished, I turned away expressionlessly to get fruit from the fridge. Despite the shock, I was adapting well. Still, I found it hard to imagine what would happen if the two Matts ever met. Lost in my thoughts, the young Matt suddenly spoke. “Why would my future self marry you?” I was speechless for a moment. The boy’s gaze was direct, even somewhat scrutinizing. Before I could answer, Matt continued, “Knowing myself, my future self wouldn’t like someone like you.” I instinctively retorted, “What ‘like me’?” Matt’s next words caught in his throat. His lips parted, then closed again. I watched as his face reddened and his eyes darted away. Finally, unable to articulate anything coherent, Matt gave up, throwing caution to the wind. “Just… your kind of flashy!” Flashy? Me, flashy!? I had braced myself for him to call me ugly, or old, but flashy? Maybe I had been a little headstrong and bold in my youth, but ever since marrying Matt, I’d transformed into the perfect daughter-in-law, a pillar of refined grace. “Flashy” was the last word anyone would use to describe me now. My expression soured, and my pleasant tone vanished. “So, what exactly do you want?” Matt, seemingly oblivious to my change in mood, didn’t miss a beat. At my question, he jumped to his feet, a strange mix of excitement and joy in his voice. “Divorce, of course!” Then, he added, almost as an afterthought, “The sooner, the better. I can’t bear the thought of my future self marrying a woman he doesn’t love.” 2 I pretended to agree. The main thing was to stabilize this eighteen-year-old Matt first. I settled him in a small villa I owned, handing him a phone. “You can reach me anytime, but you must not show yourself to the other Matt.” The young Matt visibly scoffed. “You care about him that much?” I blinked. “…” It wasn’t a matter of caring. It was a matter of two identical people existing in the same reality. Anyone would find it absurd. Besides, Matt was currently preoccupied with a crucial international partnership. I didn’t want to disrupt his work or burden him with this sudden, bewildering appearance of his younger self. Thankfully, young Matt agreed. But he had one condition. I was shocked. “You want to hug me??” Matt, as if stating the obvious, said, “What’s the big deal? You hug him all the time, don’t you?” I was a bit slow to react, struggling to keep up with a teenager’s logic. But young Matt didn’t wait. He simply pulled me into his arms. His hand on my waist felt incredibly warm. I squirmed uncomfortably, but Matt held me tighter. He seemed to take a deep breath, then slowly said: “He’s thirty-three now, isn’t he? Does he smell like an old man? I bet I smell pretty good, right?” He? Oh, older Matt. “…He’s only thirty-three, not fifty-three,” I murmured. Before I left, Matt frowned, reiterating, “Remember, divorce him quickly.” I nodded dismissively, thinking to myself: He is you, you know. 3 When I rushed home, older Matt had just finished showering. He stood leaning against the doorframe, a towel wrapped around his waist, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he tilted his head at me. “Busy day?” I nodded subtly, fabricating a quick excuse. “My studio just landed a big project. It’s been quite hectic.” A simple exchange. After that, we both fell into a comfortable silence, a habit of ours. Matt looked down at me, lost in thought. He didn’t speak, and I didn’t ask. This had been the norm for our five years of marriage. People often said the honeymoon phase faded after three years, and a couple’s relationship would gradually morph into a familial bond, with communication dropping off a cliff. But Matt and I had been like this since the start of our marriage. To put it nicely, we were respectful partners. To put it less so, we were glorified roommates. Our routine was a symbolic check-in, then we’d each go about our own business. After I came out of the bathroom, I noticed Matt was lost in thought. I raised an eyebrow, a little surprised. He was usually a master of time management, always maximizing every moment. It was unusual to see him simply daydreaming. I slipped into bed. Matt, as was his custom, turned off the lights. My mind was a whirlwind. One moment, I was thinking of the eighteen-year-old Matt. The next, a headache brewed at the thought of the word “divorce.” Did I really want a divorce? 4 Matt and I met five years ago. I had just graduated a year prior and, with startup funds from my family, established my design studio. Attending a gala to expand my client base, Matt approached me, complimenting the necklace I wore. At the time, Matt was known for his extensive romantic history and numerous rumored conquests. A man with many companions naturally purchased a lot of jewelry. I, harboring intentions to profit from him, exchanged contact information. But strangely, for a full six months, Matt never bought a single piece of jewelry from my studio. I felt all those dinners with him had been a waste. So, I stopped initiating contact and silently labeled him a cheapskate. About three months after our last contact, my studio ran into financial trouble. My pride wouldn’t allow me to ask my family for money. While scrambling for investors, I bumped into Matt at a dinner party. I pretended not to know him, playing along with the charade. Matt, too, followed my lead. After the party, I squatted by the roadside, sobering up. Matt’s car pulled up beside me. He got out and squatted down with me, his voice gentle. “Miss Laura, I’ve always wanted to ask, what did I do wrong for you to block my number?” I ignored him. Matt, despite being brushed off, didn’t seem annoyed. “Alright, then let’s say it was my fault. May I have the honor of driving you home?” I agreed. In the car, Matt and I discussed my studio’s operations. Though I considered him stingy, his insights into my problems were remarkably sharp. I listened, mesmerized, my eyes unconsciously drawn to his profile. Frankly, Matt had every right to be considered the most eligible bachelor in high society. I wondered who would finally make this playboy settle down. Perhaps my gaze was too obvious; Matt chuckled softly. “Laura, reel in your stare. I’m driving.” My face flushed, and I looked away, belatedly embarrassed. I intended to doze off, but Matt suddenly asked, “What were you thinking about just now?” Perhaps I was truly drunk. I actually blurted out my honest thoughts. “I was wondering who you’d marry.” Matt abruptly pulled the car to the side of the road. I looked at him, puzzled, then heard him say, “Laura, if it were possible, I’d really like to marry you.” At that moment, I must have lost my mind. Without thinking, I asked, “What are the benefits of marrying you?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt I sounded too mercenary. I was about to explain, but Matt, after a serious pause, spoke. “Money, resources, social standing — I can give you all of it.” “And if that’s not enough, I’m willing to let you step on everything I have to get what you desire.” 5 Perhaps it was my father’s constant belittling during my childhood that made me so desperate to prove myself. Or perhaps Matt’s charm truly was captivating. I agreed. He seemed afraid I’d change my mind and, the very next day, took me to get our marriage license. I was absently reliving the events of five years ago. I didn’t even notice when Matt had moved closer until his hand suddenly closed around my thigh, jolting me back to reality. His lips brushed my neck. “The collaboration is wrapping up. It’s been a while since we… you know.” “A while?” Was he referring to four days? That seemed like a perfectly normal frequency to me. In the past, I might have readily agreed. But today, with the eighteen-year-old Matt occupying my thoughts, I was worried he might suddenly cause some trouble. So, I stopped his hand from moving further down. “I’m so tired.” Matt’s movements paused. After a few seconds of silence, he pulled my nightgown back down. “Alright. How about we go on a vacation once I’m done with work?” I neither agreed nor refused, instead falling back on my usual noncommittal reply: “We’ll see.” 6 Laura slept. But Matt couldn’t. He had always possessed a keen sense of smell. The moment Laura returned, he’d detected the scent of another man’s cologne on his wife. If it had been a women’s fragrance, he might have dismissed it. But it was distinctly male cologne. Usually, men’s fragrances weren’t overpowering, yet the scent on Laura lingered even after she’d come home. Had they shaken hands? Or embraced? A long-dormant surge of possessiveness stirred within Matt. He let out a soft, humorless chuckle, then carefully slipped out from under the covers. On the cologne shelf in his walk-in closet sat a familiar bottle. It was a scent he’d favored in his wilder youth. Without a second thought, Matt tossed it into the trash. “Disgusting.” “Appalling taste.” Having finally disposed of the offensive cologne, Matt returned to the bedroom. He gently pulled Laura into his arms. His wife. His wife. He took a deep breath. It’s fine, Matt reassured himself. Laura loves him. She’d actively sought his contact information the first time they met. Later, she’d initiated invitations multiple times. Even after their initial misunderstanding, she always showed up at events where he was present. Laura had even been willing to marry him. If this wasn’t love, then Matt’s perception was as reliable as an old, worn-out shoe. So, what he needed to do was be patient. Give Laura enough time to resolve whatever trouble was threatening their marriage. This cologne was a blatant provocation from the outsider. If Matt were to confront Laura over a mere scent, he would be falling right into the third party’s trap. He wasn’t that foolish. But if his wife truly became entangled in external chaos, Matt wouldn’t hesitate to use less than savory methods to teach that presumptuous kid a lesson. 7 The next morning, Matt had already left for work. I slowly went through my morning routine, eating breakfast. When I finally picked up my phone, it was bursting with notifications. Assuming it was urgent client matters, I quickly checked, then couldn’t help but roll my eyes. From the moment I’d arrived home last night until now, young Matt had sent hundreds of messages, non-stop. At first, they were normal, asking a variety of random things. But as time went on, they grew increasingly peculiar. I even suspected he was trying to pry into every detail of my life. Just before I fell asleep, the messages had peaked. [Are you asleep? Are you with him? Are you sharing a bed?] [Why aren’t you replying, Laura? What are you doing?] [You need to remember you’re getting a divorce. Be modest and proper, got it?] [LAURA!!!] … It was too much. My eyes stung from scrolling. I skimmed through them, finally letting out a soft scoff. “Childish,” I mumbled. 8 I’d initially assumed young Matt’s behavior was merely due to his sudden displacement in time. But I was wrong. Later that afternoon, I finished a meeting. Walking into my office, I found Matt sprawled on my single sofa. He’d changed clothes today, opting for a crisp white shirt and dark trousers, the top two buttons undone, revealing the sharp line of his collarbone. I paused. That face, paired with this attire, made him look almost exactly like older Matt. Except for his eyes. Older Matt’s eyes held a restrained depth, a quiet wisdom forged by years and experience. Young Matt’s eyes, however, were wide open, like a raging fire, making one feel disoriented. Noticing my unwavering gaze, he grumbled, “What are you staring at?” “Never seen a young man before?” Okay. Still arrogant as ever. “…What are you doing here?” I asked, exasperated. “You dumped me in that rundown villa for a day and a night, didn’t even reply to a single message.” Young Matt strolled over to me, then casually plopped himself onto my desk, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’m here to supervise your divorce progress.” My temple throbbed. “Get down.” “No.” “Get down.” “Won’t.” I took a deep breath, reaching out to pull him. But he used the momentum, pulling me into his lap. The familiar scent of cologne filled my nostrils—a youthful aroma, a burning body heat, and a thumping heartbeat. I couldn’t tell if it was his or mine. “Laura,” he murmured against my hair, his voice muffled, “you smell like him.” I struggled to get up. “Of course, we live together.” “No.” Young Matt’s arms tightened, holding me in a vice-like grip. “I forbid you from smelling like him.” I let out a mirthless laugh. “Matt, are you out of your mind?” Perhaps it was truly ill-advised to speak ill of someone behind their back. The moment I cursed him, Matt’s phone rang. I shot young Matt a warning glare, then answered. “Should I pick you up today? I booked a restaurant, heard the view is quite nice.” I was about to answer when I felt a sudden chill at my waist. My eyes darted down. I saw a mischievous, playful grin on young Matt’s face. In his hand, he held my fountain pen. The icy touch made me instinctively flinch, but the boy didn’t stop. As my heart hammered in my chest, the pen slid down my side. My breath hitched. I stared at young Matt in disbelief. He, however, calmly mouthed a command: “Reject him.” Then, the pen poked me threateningly. “…My appetite hasn’t been great lately. You should go eat by yourself.” A long silence stretched on the other end. Finally, Matt simply said, “Alright.” 9 After finally coaxing young Matt back to the villa, I prepared to collapse onto my bed at home. Opening the door, the house was dark. Matt must have gone to that restaurant alone. A strange pang of guilt pricked at my heart. I sighed heavily. As I made my way towards the stairs, passing the sofa, Matt’s voice suddenly startled me. “Laura.” “Your assistant said you left at six, but it’s nine now.” A cold sweat broke out. I quickly explained, “Had dinner with a client.” My tone was even, my excuse perfect. He shouldn’t suspect anything… right? Matt didn’t say anything, just nodded faintly. My heart pounding, I went to shower. Halfway through, the door suddenly opened. My response: ? Matt walked directly in, standing by my side, staring at me. His gaze made my scalp tingle. I tried to find a topic to ease the tense atmosphere. “Cough, cough… Did you eat?” Matt’s reply was concise. “No.” I was speechless. I was about to suggest he get something to eat, but the next second, Matt pulled me into his arms, burying his face in my wet neck. “Didn’t eat, but I want something else.” … I was eventually carried out of the bathroom. Matt seemed to be in a slightly better mood, but not by much. I lay sprawled on the bed, watching him move about. The phone on the table suddenly buzzed. Before I could reach for it, a large hand picked it up ahead of me. Matt’s voice, cool and indifferent, resonated through the room. “Young Matt? New friend?” 10 My already muddled brain immediately froze. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Just as Matt waited for me to speak, the call disconnected. I let out a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, my relief was premature. I opened my mouth, about to explain, when the phone buzzed again. A message popped up on the screen. [Laura, I can’t sleep. Are you asleep?] Matt’s gaze fell on the screen. Silence. A deathly silence. My heart stopped. An inexplicable sense of guilt and remorse washed over me. I tried to explain, but Matt suddenly interrupted. “Should I reply?” He didn’t even give me a chance to answer. “Your new friend seems to need some melatonin. I don’t mind ordering him some delivery.” My response: “…” Damn it. If Matt saw the delivery address was my villa, that would be disastrous. So, I calmly said, “It’s fine. Just a casual friend. I’ll reply tomorrow.” Matt’s expression remained placid, showing no emotion. But his next move sent a shiver down my spine. “Wait!” “Didn’t you say just once?!” 11 The next morning, Matt was already dressed in a suit. I looked at him, puzzled. Matt smiled gently. “I’m going on a business trip, about a week.” A business trip? A week? Although Matt often had impromptu business trips, this one seemed unusually sudden. Besides, hadn’t he just finished a major international collaboration? A sense of unease settled in my stomach, but seeing Matt’s refined profile, I didn’t say anything. I simply whispered, “Take care of yourself, don’t overwork.” As soon as I spoke, I realized how hoarse my voice was. I winced. Matt finished tying his tie and walked towards me, inexplicably caressing my collarbone. “I will. You rest up.” Matt left. I lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. After a while, I checked my phone. Surprisingly, young Matt hadn’t sent any messages since the one last night. He’d been completely silent. I considered it, then typed a reply: [I fell asleep very early last night, didn’t see your message.] Just as I sent it, the doorbell rang. Opening the door, Matt stood outside, dressed in a suit. I was a little surprised. “Why are you back? Did you forget something?” The Matt at the door stared intently at me, his gaze slowly moving from my face down to my neck and collarbone. I looked at him, bewildered. Matt’s jawline was tight, his lips pressed into a thin line. He suddenly reached out, tracing a path from my neckline to the hollow of my throat, then lightly pressed on the hickey there. His voice was chillingly quiet. “Laura, is this what you meant by divorce?” 12 The moment the words left his mouth, I realized the person before me wasn’t older Matt. But why… Why was he wearing a suit!? Perhaps sensing the shock in my eyes, Matt slowly withdrew his hand. “Oh, just a suit I bought randomly.” I couldn’t help but marvel: They really are the same person; even their taste in suits is identical! Matt seized on the flaw in my words, his tone casual. “He left?” I stepped aside to let him in, softly humming in affirmation. As soon as I closed the door, Matt pulled me into his arms, his palm pressing hard against my lower back, kneading it meaningfully. His voice was deep. “You’re so unwilling to divorce him? What exactly do you see in him, huh?” I suddenly had a headache because of this kid. Before I could think of a suitable excuse, Matt unleashed his sharp tongue. “Do you like him because he’s old? Because his legs aren’t nimble anymore? Because in a few years, his birthday cake will be replaced with a longevity bun? Or because he gets foam at the corners of his mouth if he talks too much?” My response: “…” What a poisonous tongue. Who talks about themselves like that? Seeing my silence, Matt’s pretense of composure finally crumbled. “You like him that much?!” Like? I couldn’t help but fall into contemplation. From the very beginning, our marriage wasn’t built on love. Yet, over these five years, Matt had given me all the prestige of being Mrs. Thorne. I’d climbed step by step, using him as a stepping stone, achieving everything I desired. But, as they say, marriage is where novelty goes to die. Even without love, I’d grown tired. Tired of the mundane, day-in, day-out routine. Matt suddenly bit me, jolting me back to attention. He snarled, “Laura, do you know the flower language of sweet pea?” I rubbed my aching cheek, instinctively asking, “What?” Matt enunciated each word: “Too old to keep.” It wasn’t until the young man’s ardent, clumsy kiss descended that I fully grasped Matt’s intentions. Oh. He was stealing from his own home. I stared at the handsome young face so close to mine, feeling a momentary disorientation. Was this the arrogance and aggressiveness of Matt in his youth? I was in a daze. I suddenly recalled the rumors before our marriage: charming, passionate, untamed. But the Matt before me now was pure, childish, and petty. This stark contrast was strangely intoxicating. Unconsciously, I ran my hand through his soft hair, giving his earlobe an encouraging squeeze. To be honest, I didn’t have a preference for virgins. But if I could choose, who wouldn’t prefer a blank slate? Besides, this was still Matt, just from a different timeline. Essentially, the same person. I thought, I need to add something new to my dull life.

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I once willingly became his mistress to save my mother, even carrying his child that he had so desperately wanted. I thought it was love, until I was forced to kneel before his wedding and lost my child. He passed me off to others in public, crushing whatever dignity I had left. I left with a broken heart, but he came chasing after me like a madman, saying he only loved me. But by then, I was already in a wedding dress, holding another man’s hand. I watched him break down, and I merely smiled faintly. “You? You dare talk about love?” Aria’s POV In my third year with Julian Ashford, I ran into him and his newly married wife at the hospital. In the obstetrics corridor, Julian wore a haute couture suit that clashed with his surroundings, his arms protectively wrapped around a woman. I heard him say to her. “I can bring any doctor you want to the house. Why must you come to the hospital?” The woman replied coolly. “Isn’t there a top-tier private doctor stashed away in your house? I wouldn’t dare ask you to bring her home.” I knew the private doctor she was talking about was me. Three years ago, I went to Julian’s mother, Helena, and asked to be with Julian without any title or status. To the public, my identity was his private physician. But in truth, I was his mistress. I watched Julian’s lips press into a tight line. “Ours is just a business marriage. Don’t interfere in my business with Aria. We’re already married. I’ll handle her appropriately. She won’t be a problem for you.” The woman’s lips curved upward. “You have one month before the wedding ceremony. You’d better clean up all your loose ends. Otherwise, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The doctor called the woman’s name, and they walked into the examination room. I stood frozen in place, my entire body feeling as if it had been plunged into ice water. Julian had once sworn to me that he would make Helena accept me into the family, that being his mistress was only a temporary measure. But now, without me knowing, he had not only married someone else but also had a child with her. Helena was right. Julian would love many people. I would never be the special one. Five years ago, Julian was stabbed and collapsed on the roadside. I was still a university student then, and I gave him basic first aid before sending him to the hospital. When he woke up, he began pursuing me with great effort. A wealthy man falling for an innocent medical student became the latest gossip in high society circles. I couldn’t withstand such an offensive and quickly fell for him, accepting his confession. But Helena didn’t accept our relationship. And Julian wasn’t the devoted, infatuated prince I thought he was. Long hairs in his pockets, lipstick marks on his shirts, long periods of being unreachable. Combined with increasingly vicious rumors at school, I eventually chose to break up with him. But no one expected that after the breakup, Julian would become frantic about getting back together with me. He swore he would never be ambiguous with any other woman again, even tattooing my name on his body. Though I was moved and couldn’t let go of our relationship, I knew clearly the gap between us. The biggest obstacle was Helena’s opposition. Until my mother was diagnosed with acute leukemia. With no other options, I went to Helena and offered to become Julian’s mistress, nothing more. This way, I could stabilize him while keeping everything under Helena’s control. Helena agreed to this transaction, giving me a one-time payment of thirty million dollars and promising to send me to a top research institute to continue my studies when I left. Helena’s words still echoed in my ears: “Julian won’t have only you. He’ll love many people. You won’t be the special one. But you’re doing me a favor. Rather than letting him get involved with questionable women, having only you is more reassuring.” “If you can get pregnant with Julian’s child, letting you into the family isn’t impossible.” During these three years with Julian, he gave me promises and favoritism. We were no different from an ordinary married couple. Hope had secretly grown in my heart. Now it seemed I had been overthinking. I raised my phone, took a photo of them walking out of the examination room, and sent it to Helena. “Julian Ashford is already married to another woman and has a child with her. There’s no reason for me to stay. Please fulfill your promise and send me to Dr. Shaw’s research institute.” My mother’s illness had been under control for a year now. My savings could completely support both of us. I had only stayed because I couldn’t let go of my feelings for Julian. The phone screen lit up with Helena’s reply. “Even if you hadn’t discovered this, I would have told you eventually. The family business needs the South family’s support. This is an obligation Julian must fulfill.” “Julian still has feelings for you. You have three days. Find a way to make Julian completely let you go, and you’ll get everything you want.” Just as I finished reading the message, someone tapped my shoulder. “Aria? It really is you. What are you doing at the hospital?” Only then did I remember I had come to pick up my ultrasound report. I was pregnant with Julian’s child. Two months along.

Aria’s POV Hearing my name, Julian’s gaze turned toward me. The instant our eyes met, he quickly withdrew his hand from around Vanessa South’s waist, his brow furrowing. “Aria, she and I aren’t-” Vanessa smiled and stepped forward, cutting off his words. “I’m Julian Ashford’s wife. If I’m not mistaken, you must be the private doctor Julian’s been hiding at home, keeping from me, right?” I didn’t want to engage with her. I knew my position was disgraceful, and I didn’t want to humiliate myself. I turned to leave. But Vanessa grabbed my hand first. “Don’t rush off. I’m quite curious about you. Dr. Aria, coming to obstetrics-you’re not pregnant too, are you? Who’s the baby’s father? I hope you’re not one of those classless girls who becomes someone’s mistress.” She could say anything about me, but she couldn’t insult my mother! My mother raised me alone from childhood. She was my bottom line. I turned back. “I don’t know how old this lady is, but why do you gossip about other people’s business like a nosy neighbor? I’m a doctor. Coming to the hospital is normal work. If you have time, you should manage your own husband better instead-stop letting him drop your hand the moment he sees someone else.” Vanessa’s face darkened, her expression so fierce it looked like a storm was brewing. “You’re just a mistress. How dare you speak to me like this?” I smiled coldly. “Get your timeline straight. Julian Ashford’s obsessive love for me was common knowledge five years ago.” I wouldn’t swallow my anger when someone bullied me. Vanessa glared coldly at Julian. “Julian Ashford, I’m the South family’s pampered daughter. In the business world, my word is law. No one dares speak to me like this. Your mistress has quite the nerve. If she hadn’t made a scene in front of me, I could have turned a blind eye. Today, you must give me an explanation.” Julian stepped forward, his eyes as deep and affectionate as always, but his tone brooked no argument. “Aria, Vanessa’s status is different from yours. Apologize to her.” “I should apologize to her?” I laughed coldly. “First, she provoked me. Second, the person who should apologize most in this whole situation is you, isn’t it? Julian, have you forgotten all the promises you made me these three years?” “Whatever I promised you, Vanessa is now my legally registered wife. You should respect her.” His gaze turned cold and severe, scanning me up and down. “You need to know your place. Apologize to Vanessa.” Know my place? What place is that? His lover? His mistress? Or someone completely insignificant? I bit my lips tightly. “What if I refuse?” Julian raised his hand in a signal, and two bodyguards immediately stood behind him. He pinched my chin, his fingers caressing my face. “Aria, weren’t you always so obedient before? Be good, and I’ll compensate you.” I used to be obedient because I still dreamed of becoming his wife. Now he wants me to be obedient? Vanessa had insulted my mother, crossing my bottom line. I would never bow my head to her. “Then don’t blame me.” Julian’s expression turned cold as he waved at the bodyguards. “Go easy. Don’t hurt her.” The next second, two bodyguards twisted my arms behind my back, kicked hard at my knees, forcing me to kneel on the ground, and pressed my head toward the floor. Sharp pain shot through my knees. I couldn’t help but groan. I saw Vanessa leaning against Julian. “Looks like you still know what’s important. I’m satisfied. The family won’t hear about this. Let’s leave it at that. I hope next time Miss Aria sees me, she’ll remember her place.” After they left, the bodyguards finally released me. I moved my neck, dusted off my knees, and limped toward the examination room to get my ultrasound report. My phone vibrated. It was a message from Julian. “Aria, the family needs the South family’s support right now. I’m sorry you were wronged. I’ll compensate you.” I swiped left and deleted it. I had already decided to leave. From now on, Julian’s affairs had nothing to do with me.

Aria’s POV Outside the examination room, my emotions were too agitated. I slipped and tumbled down the stairs. The baby was gone too. For this child, I’d endured countless injections and treatments, willing to hurt myself just to hold on. But now it seemed some things simply couldn’t be forced. Two hours later, I was supporting myself against the wall, slowly walking through the hospital corridor. The stabbing pain in my lower abdomen kept reminding me of what I’d just been through. When I got home, under the influence of medication, I slept straight through until the next afternoon. Looking at the time, anxiety rose in my heart. Helena had given me little time. I took two painkillers, caught a cab to Nightfall, the club Julian frequented. Watching the men and women dancing wildly on stage, I removed my coat, revealing the sexy outfit I’d deliberately chosen underneath, and walked onto the stage with cash I’d prepared in advance. I snatched the DJ’s microphone and threw the money into the air. “Whoever makes me happy tonight gets all this money.” The venue exploded. Men of all types surrounded me, using every trick they had. I wasn’t sure if Julian was here today, but it didn’t matter. Someone would tell him. Because our relationship was common knowledge in this city. Sure enough, twenty minutes later, Julian appeared, fury blazing in his eyes, and yanked me out. “Aria, are you really this cheap? You can’t live without a man?” I smiled. “Of course. You’re already married-are you really going to control who I find?” My fingers traced circles on his chest restlessly. “Though if Mr. Ashford still wants to sleep with me, I won’t refuse. After all, who would refuse the richest man in the city?” Julian’s eyes turned bloodshot, his grip suddenly tightening. I felt like my hand would be crushed. “Aria, you’ll sleep with anyone who has money? Do you have any shame at all? Being my mistress isn’t enough for you? With your status, being able to be with me is incredible luck. How dare you look for other men behind my back?” His words were like a sharp blade stabbing my heart. He finally stopped pretending and said what was really in his heart. He had always looked down on me. He could give me money, coax me, but he would never respect me. Then Vanessa emerged from behind him, removing his hand from mine. “The butler said you were here, so I came to check.” Vanessa looked at me with arrogant eyes. “People of low birth are like this. Even if they glimpse a higher level of life, they can’t change their inherent inferiority.” Julian was silent for a few seconds, then spoke. “I was wrong about her.” Watching the two of them sing in harmony, I could only find it laughable. Julian had power and wealth, so being with me while marrying someone else was “unavoidable”? Vanessa getting pregnant before marriage and inserting herself into our relationship somehow became “noble”? Julian looked at me holding my head high, refusing to admit fault, seemingly remembering something. Finally, his tone softened. “Aria, I know you’re unhappy that I married someone else, but don’t stimulate me this way, okay? I know you’re not this kind of person. I admit I broke my promise. I can’t marry you. I have responsibilities I can’t escape.” Looking at the hypocritical expression on the man before me, I laughed. “How do you know I can’t live without you? Don’t be so confident. You’re pretty average in bed.” Julian’s face darkened. He took Vanessa’s hand and turned to leave. But then Vanessa suddenly collapsed on the ground in pain. “Julian, the baby…” Julian panicked, holding Vanessa with bloodshot eyes as he looked at me. “You’re a doctor-check on her quickly!” He added another line. “Don’t try anything. If something happens to her, I guarantee every hospital in the city will refuse to treat your mother!” I was angry too. “If you want her well, shut up.” I was a doctor. I would absolutely never do anything harmful to a patient. I quickly assessed the situation. After a simple massage, Vanessa’s breathing became steady. Julian immediately picked her up and rushed toward the hospital. This scene was exactly like two years ago when I had an acute appendicitis attack and Julian sent me to the hospital with bloodshot eyes. “Aria, nothing will happen to you. I won’t allow it.” But now, another woman was in his arms. I left the bar and took a cab to the Ashford residence. I still had some things there. In the car, I received a message from Helena. “You did well, but it’s not enough. You have one more day.” Helena always had people around Julian, monitoring his every move. I put away my phone and got out of the car. As soon as I entered, I could feel the servants looking at me strangely. I walked straight toward my room. Passing Julian’s room, I saw Vanessa half-lying on the bed with Julian pressed against her stomach-the picture of a happy family. “Vanessa, it’s so amazing. I’m going to be a father.” Vanessa stroked his hair, showing a blissful smile. “With a father who loves him so much, the baby will definitely be very happy.” I didn’t disturb them, just silently walked to the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and calmed my emotions. Soon this would all be over. My mother’s illness was under control, and I could continue my studies. But the next second. Julian suddenly appeared outside the door, looking at me with confusion. “What are you doing here?” I didn’t answer, but asked instead. “Is Miss South asleep?”

Aria’s POV Julian nodded, then spoke with slight apology. “I’m sorry, I went too far earlier. The doctor told me that without your treatment, Vanessa might have lost the baby.” I shook my head. “Your affairs have nothing to do with me. I just came to pack my things.” “You’re not angry?” He asked. You have to understand-before, I had resolutely broken up with him over his ambiguous behavior with other women. “It’s fine. I respect your choice.” I looked up at him and suddenly asked. “Julian, when did you get together with her? When you were with her, did you feel guilty toward me at all?” Julian suddenly stepped forward and pulled me into his embrace. “Aria, I only love you. My feelings for Vanessa, for that child-they’re just out of responsibility. This is something I must bear being born into this family. You can understand, right?” “But I promise you, besides Vanessa, you’ll be my only woman. I won’t be like those men who have affairs everywhere. Aria, you can accept this, can’t you?” His tone was too matter-of-fact, as if he were stating some universal truth. But he was wrong. I was still the same Aria who wanted one person for one lifetime. I took a deep breath and stepped out of his embrace. The instant I left his arms, I seemed to see Vanessa’s figure by the door, but she disappeared the next second. “I need some time.” Whoever wants to accept this can accept it. I’ll be completely gone the day after tomorrow. “Then will you stay tonight?” He asked. I thought for a moment and agreed. Helena said I hadn’t done enough. I could use this opportunity to talk clearly with Vanessa and get her to control Julian. At 2 AM, I was woken by knocking on my door. Getting out of bed to answer it, I found Vanessa. Before I could actively seek her out, she came to me first. Perfect-it saved me the trouble. “Miss South, if you’re here to talk about Julian, you can rest assured. I’ll be leaving here the day after tomorrow, completely leaving him. In this matter, you and I are both victims. Everything stems from Julian Ashford’s irresponsibility.” I had no issue with Vanessa. From a certain perspective, we were both victims. But Vanessa laughed disdainfully. “What are you to be mentioned in the same breath as me?” Seeing my goodwill trampled, I changed my tone. “Miss South got pregnant before marriage. Quite the scandal. Is this how wealthy families raise their daughters? Well, I’ve learned something new.” “You!” Vanessa flew into a rage and slapped me. I wasn’t one to be bullied-I slapped her right back. “Miss South, instead of arguing with me here, you’d be better off controlling Julian Ashford. Otherwise, without me, there will be others.” With that, I shut the door and returned to bed. I tossed and turned in bed. I don’t know how long it took before I finally fell into a deep sleep. The next morning, before I was fully awake, I was startled by the sound of Julian kicking down the door. The next second, he kicked the door open, strode in, and grabbed my throat. He used such force that I could barely breathe. “What did you say to Vanessa? She already told me she’s willing to accept you, so why would you do this?” Julian’s eyes were bloodshot, the force on his hand gradually increasing. I used all my strength to push against his hand and finally broke free. “I didn’t do anything.” He cut me off. “I thought you really were willing to coexist with her. Turns out you were lying to me all along! You really think I’d still be with you after you’ve done these things? Still won’t admit it? Look at this!” He threw a card at me. On it was Vanessa’s “suicide note.” “Julia, I originally thought my sincerity and this child in my belly could make you love me. But Miss Aria is right. You love her. You caused such a scene over her for the whole city to see. Even if I have the title of Mrs. Ashford, I’ll never have your heart. If that’s the case, our fate has ended. Let’s meet again in the next life. Vanessa.” I never said any of this to her. “I didn’t-” “Still making excuses! If anything happens to Vanessa or the baby today, I’ll make you pay with your life!” Julian wouldn’t listen to my defense. He roughly dragged me down the stairs. My knees were scraped raw and bloody. “My people sent word that Vanessa is on the TV station rooftop right now. You’re going to kneel and apologize to her! If she doesn’t forgive you, you’ll kneel on that rooftop until you die!” He tied my hands and shoved me into the trunk, racing all the way to the TV station rooftop. The bodyguards carried me up with him to the rooftop. There were also TV station staff on the rooftop doing a live broadcast. I was thrown to the ground. Cameras and flashing lights immediately focused on me. I knew no one would come to save me.

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I’d been with Ethan Pierce for five years, thinking I was the person he trusted most. Five years of obedience, humiliation, and sacrifice. In his eyes, I was nothing but a shadow, a stand in for Claire Sullivan, the one he truly loved. The day Claire came back, he made me kneel on the floor to wipe her shoes. My dignity was crushed again and again. Even when I left, my freedom was restricted by his power and influence. Then came the day when he deliberately made out with Claire right in front of me, repeating over and over that she was the woman he truly loved. I dialed a phone number I’d kept buried for so long. “Come pick me up and take me home. Also, I want the Pierce family bankrupt.” Sophia Bennett POV I’d been with Ethan Pierce for five years. Everyone in our circle knew I was the most obedient pet Ethan kept by his side. If he told me to go east, I’d never go west. He didn’t let me wear dresses, so for five years I only wore pants. Everyone thought I was madly in love with Ethan, and Ethan himself thought so too. Late night. Pouring rain. I’d just finished cleaning up the company’s mess and came back to the villa soaking wet. The living room lights were off. The smell of smoke was suffocating. A crimson glow flickered in the darkness. Ethan sat on the sofa, his expression cold and hard. “You’re back?” His voice was hoarse. I set down my bag and went to change into slippers out of habit. “Why didn’t you turn on the lights? Is your stomach bothering you again? I’ll go make you some-” “Claire’s back in the country.” My movements froze. The air seemed to freeze. Claire. The one woman Ethan had always wanted but could never have. Because my face looked like Claire’s, especially my eyes. After a long moment, I straightened up, my fingertips curling slightly. “So?” Ethan stubbed out his cigarette, not even glancing at me. “She’s settling down here and hasn’t found a suitable place yet. This villa is close to her company. She likes it.” I lowered my eyes. “You’re telling me to move out?” “Move to that apartment in Regent Bay.” Ethan’s tone was casual. “Don’t bring too much stuff. Claire is obsessive about cleanliness. I don’t want any sign that someone else was living here.” Traces of other people. Five years. Over eighteen hundred days and nights. Turns out in his eyes, I was just an “other person” leaving my mark on his space. I smiled. “Okay.” I didn’t cry or make a scene. He finally looked up at me, frowning slightly. “What kind of compensation do you want? A check, or resources?” “No need.” I turned and headed upstairs. “I’ll go pack now.” “Sophia.” He called after me. I paused. “Don’t blame me.” Ethan’s voice was cold. “When we got together, I made it clear there were rules. Now that the real one is back, the stand in should naturally step aside.” I didn’t turn around. “Don’t worry, Mr. Pierce. I understand the rules very well.” That night, I packed quickly. Actually, I never had much that belonged to me anyway. The expensive jewelry, clothes, and bags-Ethan had bought them all based on Claire’s preferences. I only took a few old clothes and a photo album. Before leaving, I placed a spare key on the entry table. It made a crisp sound. Like something breaking. The day after I moved into Regent Bay, I was called back to the company. I was Ethan’s executive assistant. Even after breaking up, business still had to be handled. These five years, I’d kept work and personal life completely separate. Even if he left me so exhausted the night before that I could barely get out of bed, I still showed up the next day in heels to go over his schedule with precision. “Mr. Pierce, here’s today’s meeting agenda.” I placed the documents on the desk, my expression calm. Ethan glanced at me. “There’s an auction tonight.” Ethan finished signing and tapped his pen on the marble desktop. “Come with me.” I gave a professional smile. “Sure, I’ll arrange for a stylist.” “No need.” Ethan tossed me a gift box. “Wear this.” I opened the box. It was a white mermaid gown with a daring cut, the back almost completely bare. This not only didn’t fit my usual style, but more importantly, I had a scar on my back. From three years ago when Ethan was targeted by a rival. During the car accident, I threw myself over him to protect him and got cut by glass shards. Back then, Ethan held my bloodied body with red-rimmed eyes, saying he’d protect me for life. Now, as soon as that woman came back, he’d forgotten. “What? Don’t like it?” Ethan raised an eyebrow. I closed the box, my fingers gripping the edge tightly. “Mr. Pierce, this dress is backless. I have a scar. It might not look appropriate.” “A scar?” Ethan seemed to pause for a moment, then smiled carelessly. “That old scar must have faded by now, right? Besides, Claire likes this style. I want to see how it looks when worn.” I see. Another fitting model. I felt like my heart was being squeezed by a giant hand, the pain suffocating. I took a deep breath, maintaining my polite smile. “Understood.” That evening, at the auction, I entered on Ethan’s arm, turning heads. The dress was beautiful, but it was also revealing. I’d covered the scar on my back with concealer, but under the lights it was still faintly visible. People around whispered, their gazes filled with amusement. But Ethan seemed oblivious, only focused on exchanging pleasantries. Until the auction began. The finale was a set of pink diamond jewelry with a starting bid of eighty million dollars. Ethan bid without hesitation. I sat beside him and heard him say in a low voice: “Claire has fair skin. Pink looks good on her.” The price soared to two hundred million dollars. Eventually, Ethan won. After the event ended, staff brought over the jewelry box. Ethan took out the necklace and turned to look at me. “Try it on.” I froze. “It’s for Miss Sullivan. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to try it, would it?” “Just try it when I tell you to.” Ethan’s tone was impatient. “Your neck is slender, about the same as hers.” In front of everyone. I was forced to lower my head as cold diamonds touched warm skin. Ethan examined it for a moment and nodded with satisfaction. “Not bad.” The next second, he reached out and removed the necklace, putting it back in the box. His movements were efficient, not giving me even one extra second of warmth. “Alright, send this to Claire.” He shoved the box into my arms and strode away. I held that priceless box, standing in the cold wind, feeling like a joke.

Sophia Bennett POV Claire’s birthday party was set on a yacht. I didn’t want to go, but as secretary, I had to be there to coordinate. Top deck of the yacht. Lights and glamour everywhere. Ethan stayed by Claire’s side the whole time. The two of them standing together drew envious looks. I hid in a corner checking the guest list, trying to minimize my presence. “Isn’t this Ethan Pierce’s secretary?” A few rich kids came over with wine glasses, teasing. “I heard Mr. Pierce cleared out his villa for the goddess Claire to live in. So where are you living now?” “Miss Bennett, you used to seem so proud. How are you like a dog now?” One of them reached out to touch my face. “After five years with him, it must’ve been quite an experience, huh?” I turned my head to avoid him, saying coldly. “Show some respect.” “Stop acting so high and mighty!” The man flew into a rage and splashed red wine on me. My white shirt instantly soaked through, clinging to my skin. I looked completely disheveled. The man, emboldened by alcohol, reached to pull at my collar. “Stop!” Ethan’s voice rang out. The group immediately scattered, apologizing with nervous smiles. “Just joking around…” Ethan walked over, his gaze falling on my soaked clothes, a flash of disgust in his eyes. He took off his suit jacket, but not to give to me. Instead, he draped it over Claire’s bare shoulders next to him. “It’s windy. Don’t catch cold.” Claire held onto his arm, looking at me with surprise. “Oh my, Miss Bennett, what happened to you? Go change quickly, don’t catch a cold.” I bit my lip hard, saying nothing. “What are you standing there for?” Ethan frowned. “Get out of here. Don’t embarrass yourself.” I turned to leave. Suddenly, the boat lurched violently. Someone screamed. “Someone fell overboard!” In the chaos, I was shoved by panicking people, lost my footing, and toppled over the railing. At the same moment, Claire was also knocked off balance, hanging precariously on the edge of the railing. “Ethan! Save me!” Claire screamed. I gripped the outer edge of the railing. Below my feet was dark, churning seawater. I couldn’t swim. Ethan knew this. Five years ago, I nearly drowned trying to retrieve documents that fell into a pool for him. He was the one who pulled me out. At this moment, Ethan was only six feet away. He glanced at Claire, then at me. Just one second of hesitation. He rushed toward Claire and grabbed her wrist. “Save her! Pull Claire up first!” Ethan yelled at the arriving security guards. My fingers slipped on the railing, bit by bit. My nails broke. Blood dripped. I watched that man who once said he’d protect me for life hold another woman tightly, soothing her gently. While I was like a withered leaf, unnoticed by anyone. “Ethan…” My voice was barely audible, scattered in the sea breeze. Before my last bit of strength ran out, I let go. Cold seawater instantly engulfed me. As suffocation set in, I actually felt relieved. If this was the end, then so be it. But I was lucky. I was pulled up by a police rescue boat. Water in my lungs. High fever that wouldn’t break. I was unconscious in the hospital for three days. During those three days, Ethan never came once. When I woke up, only a nurse was changing my bandages. “Your boyfriend is so heartless.” The young nurse felt indignant for me. “I heard that woman just scraped her skin a bit, and he stayed by her side for three days and nights. You almost died, and not a single person came to see you.” I stared at the ceiling and laughed. “He’s not my boyfriend.” Right. He never was. Just a sugar daddy and his plaything. My phone vibrated on the bedside table. It was Ethan calling. I watched that name flash for a long time before answering.

Sophia Bennett POV “You’re awake?” The background noise on the phone was chaotic, like he was still at the hospital. “Once you’re awake, come back to the office and do the handover. These past few days without you, the schedule’s been a complete mess.” No concern. No guilt. The first thing he said was about work. My throat was painfully dry. “I’m in the hospital.” “Stop being dramatic.” Ethan said impatiently. “The doctor said you just swallowed some water. You’re not dying. Claire’s been traumatized and is still getting psychological counseling. Hurry over and handle the PR. The media got photos of the incident that day.” I closed my eyes. Tears slid down from the corners into my pillow. “Ethan.” “What now?” “Let’s end this.” Silence on the other end for a few seconds, then came a scoff. “Sophia Bennett, playing this trick once was enough. Want a raise or want a bag? Just say it.” In his eyes, all my pain and struggle were nothing but tactics to gain benefits. My hand holding the phone trembled slightly. “I’m serious. I’m resigning, and I’m… leaving you.” “You dare?” Ethan’s voice turned icy. “Sophia Bennett, did you forget who pulled you out of the gutter? Without me, what are you?” “You’re right. I’m nothing.” I pulled out the IV needle from the back of my hand. Blood immediately welled up, but I couldn’t feel the pain. “So I’m done serving you.” With that, I hung up and blocked that number I knew by heart. I climbed out of the hospital bed, ignoring the nurse’s attempts to stop me, insisting on checking out. Back at Regent Bay, I packed up everything Ethan had given me and called a courier to send it all back to the villa. Then I booked the earliest flight to San Diego. That was my grandmother’s hometown, and where I’d originally wanted to go. Before leaving, I went to the company one more time. The HR director looked shocked to see me. “Miss Bennett, Mr. Pierce said without his signature, we can’t process your resignation.” I slapped my resignation letter on the desk, along with a bank card containing five hundred thousand dollars. “I’ll pay the penalty. There’s five hundred thousand dollars on this card. That’s enough compensation, right?” “Tell Ethan Pierce that these five years, consider it me paying for his services. Transaction complete. We’re even.” The moment I walked out of Pierce Corporation’s building, the sunlight was blinding. I looked back at that towering skyscraper. That was the cage that had trapped me for five years. Now, I was finally free. But I couldn’t leave. At the airport security checkpoint, red lights flashed piercingly. The ground staff handed back my passport, their eyes carrying both sympathy and the look of watching a show. “I’m sorry, Miss Bennett. Your identification has been restricted from leaving the country. If you have questions, please contact the police or… the relevant restricting party.” The relevant restricting party. Besides Ethan Pierce, who else could it be? My fingers holding the passport turned cold. I walked out of the airport terminal and called that number I’d just blocked. The phone was answered after just one ring. A man’s casual voice came through, accompanied by the crisp sound of a lighter. “Finally willing to call?” “Why did you restrict my travel?” I stood in the wind, my voice trembling. “Sophia Bennett, you think five hundred thousand can buy out five years? You think the company’s a flea market where you can come and go as you please?” Ethan exhaled a smoke ring, his tone mocking. “The company’s been dealing with a leak case recently. You’re the executive assistant, so you’re the top suspect. Until we get to the bottom of it, you’re not going anywhere.” I closed my eyes. “Ethan Pierce, what exactly do you want?” “Nothing much.” He chuckled, cruel and arrogant. “I don’t like it when a dog I’ve trained well starts barking at its master. When you learn to wag your tail again, then we can talk about resignation.” The call ended. I looked up at the gray sky, feeling a bone-deep chill. I didn’t go back to Regent Bay, and I didn’t beg him. I found a cheap motel in the old district for a few dozen dollars a night. The room was damp, with the smell of mold mixed with cheap disinfectant. I curled up on the hard bed, stomach cramping painfully. I thought once I left, I’d be free. Turns out in his eyes, I didn’t even have the right to escape.

Sophia Bennett POV Over the next three days, I deeply understood what “absolute power” meant. I submitted dozens of resumes online, even lowering my standards to apply for administrative assistant and receptionist positions. At first, the conversations went well, but as soon as they verified my social security number, attitudes would do a complete one-eighty. “Sorry, Miss Bennett, we’ve filled the position.” “Miss Bennett, we don’t dare hire someone from Pierce Corporation. Please don’t make this difficult for us.” Some even threw my resume in the trash right in front of me. “You offended Mr. Pierce and still want to work in New York? Naive.” My last bit of savings was almost gone. I stood on the street, looking at the exquisite, expensive cakes in the display window. I touched my empty stomach, turned around, and bought two nearly expired loaves of bread. I used to dine at high-end restaurants with Ethan. Now I had to carefully budget just to get a full meal. This was the price of leaving him. Evening. Pouring rain. I returned to the motel soaking wet, but the owner threw my luggage out. “Get out! Someone called and said anyone who lets you stay is going against the Pierce family! I run a small business. I can’t afford that kind of trouble!” The suitcase tumbled in the muddy water. The zipper burst open. A few old clothes scattered everywhere. That was all the dignity I had left. I crouched in the rain, picking up each piece of clothing one by one. Rainwater mixed with tears ran into my mouth, so bitter it nearly made me gag. A black luxury car slowly stopped in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing Ethan’s cold face without a trace of warmth. He looked down at me from above, like looking at a stray dog. “Hungry?” I clutched the mud-stained clothes in my arms, biting down hard and saying nothing. “Get in.” Ethan’s voice was indifferent. “Claire wants cake from that shop in the south district. You used to buy it all the time. You know which flavors she likes. Go get some, and I’ll let you move back to Regent Bay.” I got in the car. Not because I wanted to move back to Regent Bay, but because I had nowhere else to go, and the pain in my stomach was so sharp I felt like I was about to pass out. The car’s heater was on full blast. Claire sat in the passenger seat, wearing Ethan’s coat, holding a hot water bottle. Seeing my bedraggled state in the back seat, Claire covered her nose and frowned. “What a strong musty smell… Ethan, I feel a bit carsick.” Ethan glanced at me in the rearview mirror, saying coldly. “Open the window.” Outside was heavy rain. Cold wind mixed with raindrops poured in, hitting me directly. I shivered from the cold. Ethan acted as if he didn’t see, even reaching over to turn up Claire’s seat warmer. “Bear with it. We’ll be there soon.” His tone when speaking to Claire was impossibly gentle. We arrived at the cake shop. Ethan didn’t get out. He didn’t even have the driver go. “Go ahead.” He gestured to me. “Get the strawberry one. She loves that.” I pushed open the car door and stumbled out into the rain. There was a long line at the cake shop entrance. I was soaking wet, my hair plastered to my face, my clothes covered in mud. People around me gave me strange looks and kept their distance. Half an hour later, I returned to the car with the bakery box. Just as I was about to open the door, Claire suddenly rolled down the window and said in an apologetic tone. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Ethan just said he suddenly doesn’t want cake anymore. He wants Japanese food. This cake… you can keep it for yourself.” With that, the window rolled up. The luxury car spewed exhaust and sped away. All it left me was a body splattered with muddy water. I stood there, holding that box of fresh cake. I looked down at it. This was what I’d waited half an hour in line to buy. I let go. With a “splat,” the cake spilled all over the ground, cream mixing with muddy water in a mess. Just like my five years of genuine feelings.

Sophia Bennett POV I collapsed on the roadside from a high fever and was taken to the hospital by a kind stranger. I had no money for hospital admission fees. The nurse, helpless, searched through my contacts and found only one number without a name saved. Half an hour later, Ethan’s special assistant arrived. Not to pay the fees, but to take me away. “Miss Bennett, Mr. Pierce said if you go to one place, he’ll count this medical expense as a work injury.” I was delirious with fever and was taken to “Nightshade.” New York’s largest club. In the private room, the lighting was dim, the air thick with alcohol. Ethan sat in the main seat with Claire in his arms. A circle of rich kids sat around, ready to watch the show. Seeing me enter, someone whistled. “Well, well, if it isn’t the once untouchable Miss Bennett? How’d you end up looking like this?” Ethan played with a lighter in his hand, his gaze lingering on me for two seconds, full of disgust. “I heard you need money?” He threw a card on the coffee table. “There’s a hundred thousand dollars here.” I stared at the card, my nails digging into my palms. “What do you want me to do?” “Claire’s shoes got dirty.” Ethan raised his chin slightly, pointing to Claire’s high heels that had a bit of dust on them. “Clean them.” The room instantly fell silent. Claire pulled her feet back in surprise. “Ethan, this isn’t right… She did follow you for five years.” “Precisely because she followed me for five years, she should know the rules better.” Ethan’s voice was hard. “When you do something wrong, you get punished. Sophia Bennett, you chose to run away. Can’t handle this little bit of suffering?” The high fever made my vision blurry, but Ethan’s cold face was seared into my mind. Clean shoes. In front of all these people, I was supposed to clean his woman’s shoes. This was his “punishment” for my “betrayal.” “Don’t want to?” Ethan picked up the card. “Then get lost. Figure out the medical expenses yourself, or go to jail. Leaking trade secrets? That charge alone carries ten years.” A threat. A naked threat. I slowly bent down. My knees hit the carpet with a dull thud. I knelt in front of Claire, my trembling hands using the tissue that kind stranger had given me to wipe the dust off Claire’s shoes, bit by bit. Mocking laughter surrounded me. Phone camera shutters clicked. Claire looked down at me from above, undisguised triumph in her eyes. Ethan took a sip of wine, watching me. After wiping away the last bit of dust, I braced myself on the floor to stand up, but swayed from exhaustion. “Enough.” Ethan kicked the card toward my feet, somewhat irritated. “Take the money and get lost.” I picked up the card. This time, I didn’t refuse, and I didn’t throw it back. Because I understood one thing: in front of this man, dignity was worthless. Only by staying alive would I have a chance to escape completely. I clutched that card tightly and turned to walk out of the room. My back was resolute. I didn’t look back once. I took that hundred thousand dollars. I paid the medical expenses, bought fever medicine. The rest of the money, I donated entirely to an anonymous charity. Ethan’s money burned my hands. I didn’t want to keep a single cent. The day I was discharged, New York had rare clear weather. I didn’t go back to the motel or Regent Bay. I went straight to the top floor of Pierce Corporation. That was where I’d worked for five years. The receptionist tried to stop me. I looked at her. “I’m here to get my personal belongings and to deliver a big gift to Mr. Pierce.” In the office, Ethan was frowning at a report full of errors. Seeing me enter, his tone was mocking. “What, spent all hundred thousand already? Back to wag your tail?” I didn’t speak. I slammed a thick envelope on the desk. “What’s this?” Ethan raised an eyebrow. “You said I leaked trade secrets?” My voice was flat. “This is all the evidence from the past five years of you using the Bennett family’s offshore accounts for money laundering and tax evasion. The originals are with a lawyer. If anything happens to me, these documents will be in the tip line within half an hour.” Ethan’s face changed drastically. He shot up, staring at me. “Sophia, you’re threatening me?” “It’s a transaction.” I met his eyes without fear. “Lift the travel restriction. Cancel the resignation obstacles. From now on, there’s no Sophia Bennett in New York, and no secretary by your side.” Ethan laughed in fury, his long fingers pressing down hard on the envelope, knuckles white. “To leave me, you’d even use this kind of tactic?” The corner of my mouth twitched. “Learned it from you, Mr. Pierce.” The air was deathly silent. “Good. Very good.” He spat out these words through gritted teeth. “Get lost. Get lost right now!” I turned and walked away without looking back. I went to the downstairs restroom, cut up that access card, and flushed it down the toilet. Walking out of Pierce Corporation, I dialed a number I had buried long ago. “Come get me. I’m done playing.”

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I went undercover to work at a company under my family’s corporation. I didn’t expect to run into Sophia Smith, a manager who worships men and despises women. I was trembling from menstrual cramps and went to ask her for leave. Sophia took a leisurely sip of her coffee and rolled her eyes at me: “Young women are so dramatic. It’s just period cramps—grit your teeth and get through it.” Just then, intern Kevin pushed the door open. “Miss Smith, I need to take the day off. Didn’t sleep well last night, want to go home and catch up on some sleep.” Behind me came Sophia’s saccharine voice: “Oh my goodness, you work so hard. You men need to take care of yourselves while building your careers.” I laughed. Him, hardworking? He writes sixty lines of code and twenty of them are wrong! Just as I was about to leave the office, Sophia called out to me. “Laura, the group leadership is coming for the KDD project presentation. Let Kevin present instead of you—men command more authority.” I froze mid-step. I turned to look at Sophia and spoke without hesitation: “I refuse!” The KDD project was a promise I made to Grandpa three years ago. If I succeeded with the KDD project, Grandpa would agree to let me start my own company. And this project presentation was my moment to deliver! Seeing my refusal, Sophia’s face instantly darkened. “Don’t be so selfish. You’re a veteran at the company—give the younger people some opportunities. Kevin’s about to be converted to full-time, he needs some decent achievements to show.” I turned around. The persistent cramping pain in my lower abdomen made it impossible to stand straight, forcing me to lean against the door frame. I suppressed my discomfort and explained: “This presentation is very important to me.” I hoped she would back down after hearing this. Instead, what I heard was her raised voice scolding me: “Important? What isn’t important? Don’t think I don’t know you want to show off in front of the group leadership! You’re just a woman—what are you trying to prove!” She raised her chin arrogantly, her gaze scanning over me like an X-ray. She sneered: “Why are you so competitive as a woman? I think you look decent enough—just dress yourself up pretty every day and find a rich man to marry. Wouldn’t that be better?” Then she looked at intern Kevin, her tone suddenly turning coquettish. “My husband says women should be like me, a pretty little princess~” I really didn’t have the mood or energy to watch her affectation. I just replied flatly: “If there’s nothing else, I’ll head back to my desk.” Sophia seemed to feel her dignity was challenged. She slammed her coffee cup down on the desk with a harsh clatter. “Don’t you dare brush me off!” “I’m advising you to be smart! The group leadership is coming personally this time. If you screw it up, you can’t handle the consequences!” She stood up, clicking toward me in her four-inch heels. Looking down at me: “Look at you, you can barely stand. Letting you present—wouldn’t that embarrass our company image?” She beckoned to Kevin: “Look at Kevin, handsome young man with good presence and a strong voice. The leadership will be impressed! Go organize the data and send it to Kevin so he can familiarize himself with it.” Before I could speak, Kevin quickly chimed in: “Thank you, Laura! I really appreciate it. Don’t worry, I’ll memorize all the data in advance and won’t let you down.”

He spoke quickly, as if afraid I would refuse first. Another sharp pain twisted through my abdomen, cold sweat forming on my forehead. But I still lifted my head to look at the two people in front of me. “This project, from planning to execution, every line of code, every piece of data, even every client meeting—I handled all of it myself! Kevin doesn’t even understand the project background. Are you sure you want him to present?” Sophia’s expression grew even uglier. “What do you mean? Questioning my decision?” Her tone became sharper: “Let me tell you! I’m in charge of this department. Whoever I say presents, presents. Do you think you own this company?” The commotion had drawn quite a bit of attention, with several colleagues poking their heads out from their desks. I frowned, unwilling to engage in meaningless arguments with her. “You can fight over anything else, but this KDD project presentation must be mine.” My tone was calm but carried unwavering determination. But Sophia suddenly laughed. “I understand now.” She covered her mouth exaggeratedly, her eyes filled with unconcealed contempt and disgust. “You’re so insistent on presenting because you want to show off in front of the group leadership, looking for a chance to sleep your way up, right?” Her words were cutting, her voice shrill and piercing. As soon as she said this, I clearly felt more and more colleagues casting hostile glances my way. Before I could say anything, Sophia continued in her raised voice: “You young girls nowadays are so shameless, always trying to take shortcuts with your bodies. No wonder you always dress up so flashily at work—turns out you’re just fishing for men.” “Watch your mouth!” The soreness in my lower back combined with the cramping pain already had me irritated. Hearing this made anger surge in my chest. “You need evidence when you speak. Making baseless accusations and slander like this—I can sue you!” Sophia snorted and took two steps closer to me. She crossed her arms, shrugging her shoulders dismissively. “Am I wrong? Why are you pretending to be innocent? Don’t think I don’t know what you do in private. Seducing men—you’re a professional, aren’t you?” She reached out, rubbing the fabric of my clothes between her fingers, pursing her lips: “This brand, costs at least a hundred thousand dollars, right? You’re a fresh graduate—where’d you get that kind of money!” “What, got hooked on servicing old men, now planning to seduce our group CEO?” As soon as she said this, a commotion rippled through the office. Several colleagues huddled together and started whispering. “No way, Laura’s actually that kind of person? She always seemed like such a good kid.” “That’s what you don’t understand. These women are the best at playing innocent. Those rich old men love that type.” “I knew it—wondered where she got the money for all those clothes and bags at her age. So that’s how she earns it. It’s easier for women to make money.” Listening to the vulgar gossip around me, my fists clenched involuntarily. “Dirty-minded people see everything as dirty!” The outfit Sophia mentioned was a gift I bought myself when I earned my first pot of gold from entrepreneurship in my sophomore year. It was the first thing in my life I bought without using a cent of my family’s money. This outfit held extraordinary meaning for me. But in others’ mouths, it became “spoils of war” I’d earned by selling my body. As if a woman’s value could only be defined by the men beside her.

I had no interest in arguing with these idiots. Right now I just wanted to finish the presentation and leave this place reeking of old-world misogyny. But my patience and retreat, in Sophia’s eyes, became a signal for her to continue her attack. She extended her hands with their long artificial nails and dug them viciously into my chin. Her tone contemptuous: “Women like you, I’ve seen plenty! Pretty enough to flaunt yourself and seduce men—you’re cheap trash. Sharing the same space with you disgusts me!” “Still want to show off in front of the group leadership? Kill that dream! Don’t go up there and embarrass the company!” “Be smart and get lost now, before I have to do it myself.” She shoved me away violently, her nails scratching a red mark across my chin. I was already unsteady on my feet. This push made me stumble and crash hard into the door frame. I clutched my arm in pain and turned to glare at Sophia. “Malicious slander! Workplace bullying! Your days as department manager are numbered! You better wait—I hope you won’t be begging me on your knees later!” With that, I ignored these people and turned toward my desk. Behind me came Sophia’s mocking laughter: “Ooh, I’m so scared. I’d like to see who ends up kneeling to whom!” The manager’s office door slammed shut. I walked to my desk under everyone’s judgmental stares and opened my computer. A message popped up in the bottom right corner. It was from HR director Rachel Norton. “Laura, come to my office.” Looking at those words, my heart sank. I walked into Rachel’s office. She was organizing files in her hands. Seeing me, she spoke without looking up: “You’ve been fired. This is the termination agreement. Take a look, and if there’s no problem, sign it.” She handed me the document. I skimmed through it, my fingers gripping the papers so hard they turned white. “What’s the reason?” I slapped the agreement on the desk. Rachel raised an eyebrow at me, then after a long moment, sighed: “Laura, we’re all civilized people. Some things are better left unsaid for everyone’s sake. Listen to me, sign it and leave early. Don’t make it ugly for everyone in the end.” She spoke with apparent concern, but I couldn’t help laughing. “Let’s be direct then. I’m asking you—what grounds do you have to fire me? I haven’t been late, left early, or been absent. My work ability speaks for itself. I haven’t violated any company rules or regulations!” Rachel looked at me, her tone calm: “Your personal morals are questionable and would tarnish the company’s image. Is that reason enough?” She spoke as calmly as if stating the most ordinary fact. I was shaking with anger. I leaned on the desk, speaking word by word: “What evidence do you have? You want to condemn me based on slander?” Seeing my agitation, Rachel patted my hand. “I know you’re unwilling, but this is a directive from above. I have no choice either. We’re all just workers—don’t make this hard for me…” Still that calm tone, calm to the point of numbness. At that moment I deeply understood the phrase “those who wrong you know your grievance better than anyone.” She wasn’t unaware that I was being slandered, but she chose cold indifference. I took a deep breath, suppressing my anger. “I won’t make it hard for you. Just tell me the truth—this is Sophia’s doing, isn’t it?” Rachel glanced carefully at the door. She nodded slightly and spoke quietly: “Mr. Miller sent the email personally…”

Mr. Miller, Marcus Miller, Sophia’s husband and the general manager of this subsidiary. “Fine!” I straightened up: “I’m not signing this termination agreement!” With that, I walked straight out of the office. But when I returned to my desk, I was completely dumbfounded. My once fully-stocked workspace was now completely empty! Even my computer monitor and tower had been removed! “Who moved my stuff?” I asked my nearby colleagues. They exchanged glances, but no one spoke. “What’s all the noise? The company is reclaiming office resources. Is there a problem?” Sophia’s voice came from behind me. She clicked over in her heels, head held high. Intern Kevin followed right behind her. “You’ve already been fired. Why are you still shamelessly hanging around the company?” I ignored her mockery and asked directly. “Where are my things?” She snorted coldly: “That pile of junk? Thrown away, of course.” “Who gave you the right to touch my things without my permission?” Being maliciously targeted again and again, I had no patience left for tolerance. Seeing I was standing my ground, Sophia lost her temper too. “Who do you think you are? Company property is mine to handle! Including you!” I laughed coldly and pointed at my desk. “The pen is a Faber-Castell Count series annual limited edition. The mouse pad is Bottega Veneta. The cup is Baccarat. Plus all the other items, they add up to about half a million dollars.” I looked at Sophia and smiled. “Miss Smith, you’d better explain this to the police.” With that, I picked up my phone, preparing to call the police. But before I could unlock it, Sophia rushed forward and snatched my phone from my hand, smashing it hard on the ground. “Who the hell are you trying to scare?” She grabbed my hair and her palm came down. The change happened too fast for me to react. And as if deliberately, she raised her knee and rammed it hard into my lower abdomen. My already cramping abdomen now felt like it had been run over by a truck. The stabbing pain shot through to my lower back. My face turned deathly pale instantly, cold sweat pouring out. As if still not satisfied, she shoved me hard, and I crashed to the floor. I curled up on the ground in pain, clutching my stomach and unable to stop groaning. Sophia crouched down and grabbed my hair again. The tearing pain in my scalp forced me to lift my head. She gripped my chin, her tone vicious: “I knew you were a slut! Who are you moaning for?” I forced myself to look up at Sophia, speaking word by word: “You just wait!” “Hah, cheap bones are always tough. Let’s see how long you can keep that up!” She snorted through her nose, grabbed my hair, and slammed my head against the floor. The intense pain blanked my mind instantly. Ringing filled my ears and my vision blurred. I bit down hard on my tongue, trying to stay conscious. “Miss Smith, forget it. No need to get angry over this kind of trash.” Kevin laughed as he tried to calm Sophia down. I looked up at him. He was watching me with amusement, his words sounding like advice, but his eyes were full of satisfaction and excitement. Sophia seemed afraid things would escalate. Hearing this, she released my hair. She stood up, looking down at me: “Get the hell out now and stop looking for trouble!” Kevin stepped forward pretending to help me, but at an angle no one could see, he leaned close to my ear and spoke in a frivolous tone: “Laura, why bother? If you’d agreed to be my girlfriend back then, none of this would have happened. I definitely wouldn’t have competed with you for these meaningless titles.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “375913”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster