Category: English

My husband, earning a paltry five thousand a month, brazenly moved his pregnant mistress into my multi-million dollar penthouse, which I’d bought outright. Not only did he try to kick me out, but he also allowed his mother to steal and use my special chemical cream, leading to her disfigurement and baldness. His sister even demanded I pack my bags and clear out for the mistress. Watching this self-righteous family of fools, I laughed, chillingly. They seemed to have forgotten that I was not only the owner of this luxury apartment but also the CEO of the company that held his fate in my hands. Since you’re so comfortable spending my money, then you’ll return it all, with interest. You can spend the rest of your lives reflecting on your mistakes in prison! After seeing my mother-in-law, Brenda, sneak into my master bedroom on the security camera countless times, I finally snapped. On the screen, she was sitting at my vanity, her eyes gleaming at a plain white ceramic jar on the table. Her rough fingers scooped out a large glob of white cream, preparing to smear it on her face. I took a deep breath and opened our SnapChat family group, sending a voice message. “Brenda, whatever you do, don’t touch the white jar on my vanity. That’s an industrial-strength depilatory and decolorizing cream our R&D department just formulated. It’s extremely corrosive and will cause severe burns if it touches your skin.” Less than thirty seconds after I sent the message, my sister-in-law, Ashley’s voice message popped up, sharp and shrill. “Sophia, who are you trying to scare? It’s just some skincare cream, right? What’s wrong with my mom using a little of your stuff? Do you really have to make up such a malicious lie to curse her with disfigurement?” Immediately after, my husband, Mark, jumped in with a text message. “Sophia, you’re being a bit much. My five-thousand-a-month salary goes entirely to support this family. You eat and drink off me, and you’re still stingy about your mom using a bit of your skincare? Don’t be so selfish!” I looked at the words on the screen and laughed, purely out of anger. Five thousand a month to support the family? This multi-million dollar penthouse in the city center was my pre-marital property, bought entirely with my own money. Mark’s measly salary wasn’t even enough to cover the monthly property management fees and utility bills. The car he drove, the designer clothes he wore – wasn’t all of it paid for with my secondary credit card? My generosity, mistaken for weakness, had only attracted a pack of greedy leeches. Fine. Since good advice was wasted on the undeserving, I wasn’t going to bother with more words. I slowly typed a line: “I’ve warned you. Consequences are on you.” Ashley instantly replied: “Pfft, cut the act! My mom just said the cream has a faint fragrance and feels cool on her face – it’s definitely high-end stuff! You can just stay at work and be jealous. When my brother gets home, he’s going to teach you a lesson, you selfish, wicked woman!” I locked my phone, took a sip of my iced Americano, and my gaze turned cold. Teach me a lesson? We’d see who was teaching whom a lesson today.

At six in the evening, I pushed open the front door. Before I could even take off my shoes, I heard a bloodcurdling scream from the living room. “Oh, my face! It hurts so much! Help me!” I slipped on my slippers and slowly walked into the living room. The scene before me was ten times more spectacular than I’d imagined. Brenda was rolling on the floor, clutching her face with both hands, letting out heart-wrenching wails. Her already sparse hair was falling out in clumps, scattered across the wool rug like weeds. More horrifying was her face; the areas where she’d applied the white cream were now swollen and almost distorted. Her entire face looked terrifying, glowing with an eerie redness, and yellowish tissue fluid was even starting to seep out. “Brenda! What happened, Brenda!” Mark and Ashley rushed out of the kitchen, gasping in shock at the sight of Brenda on the floor. “Mark! Brenda’s hair is all gone! Her face is ruined!” Ashley shrieked, her voice trembling. Mark suddenly turned, his eyes bloodshot, glaring at me like a furious beast. “Sophia! You witch! What poison did you use on my mom!” He stomped towards me, raising his palm to slap my face. I stood my ground, not even blinking, staring at him coldly. “Try to touch me.” My voice was quiet, but it carried immense pressure. “If that slap lands, I guarantee you’ll receive a court summons tomorrow, along with a divorce agreement that leaves you with nothing.” Mark’s hand froze mid-air, the muscles in his face twitching. He was clearly intimidated by my presence. “You dare threaten my brother?!” Ashley shrieked, hopping next to him. “It’s obvious you’re twisted, deliberately leaving poison on the table to harm my mom! I’m calling the police!” I sneered, walked over to the sofa, and sat down, crossing my legs. “Call the police? Go ahead. I’d love for the police to see who ignored a warning and secretly stole and used someone else’s property.” I took out my phone, pulled up the SnapChat family group chat history, and waved it in front of them. “It’s all here, in black and white, voice messages included. I clearly told you it was industrial depilatory cream, but you insisted on thinking it was high-end skincare and smeared it on your faces. So now your face is ruined, and your hair is gone – and that’s my fault?” Brenda was rolling her eyes in pain on the floor, almost passing out. “Stop talking! Call an ambulance!” Mark panicked, yelling at Ashley. The ambulance wailed as it arrived. The paramedics frowned at Brenda’s horrific state. “The burns are too severe. She needs to be taken to the emergency room for debridement immediately!” As Brenda was being carried away on a stretcher, Mark pointed at my nose, gritting his teeth as he delivered his ultimatum. “Sophia, you just wait! If anything happens to my mom, I’m not done with you! When I get back from the hospital, you’re getting out of this house!” The front door slammed shut. I looked at the empty living room, my cold smirk deepening. Make me leave this house? Mark, you must still be dreaming.

At ten o’clock that night, the front door opened again. I was sitting on the sofa, replying to company emails on my tablet. Mark walked in first, his face not showing the slightest bit of anxiety or sadness from the hospital, but rather a smugness, like a villain getting his way. Following him, besides Ashley, was a young woman in a tight-fitting dress with a slightly bulging belly. “Crystal, slow down, watch the step.” Mark carefully supported the woman, his voice dripping with tenderness. The woman called Crystal leaned coquettishly into Mark’s embrace, her critical gaze sweeping across the living room. “Oh, Mark, is this your multi-million dollar penthouse? The location is great, but the decor is too cold and hard, not cozy at all. Let’s find someone to throw out all this black, white, and gray furniture tomorrow and replace it with the French cream style I like, okay?” “Yes, yes, whatever you want. You’re carrying our family’s grandchild, so you’re the boss,” Mark said, fawning, acting like a servant to royalty. Ashley quickly joined in, eagerly carrying Crystal’s bag. “Don’t be mad, Crystal. This awful decor was chosen by that useless old hag who couldn’t give Mark a child. Once she’s gone tonight, this place is all yours!” “Hag?” I raised an eyebrow, put down my tablet, and watched the drama unfold with interest. Mark settled Crystal on the other end of the sofa, then turned to me, his face morphing into a fierce scowl. “Sophia, you still have the nerve to sit here?” He pulled a hospital diagnosis report from his pocket and slapped it onto the coffee table. “My mom has severe chemical burns on her scalp; all her hair follicles are dead. She’ll never grow hair again! Her face is ruined! I’m settling this with you today!” I glanced at the diagnosis report without even lifting an eyelid. “So? How do you want to settle it?” “So I don’t need to be polite anymore!” Mark straightened his back, righteously pointing at Crystal. “Crystal is three months pregnant with my son! You’ve been married to me for three years and couldn’t pop out a single kid, and now you’ve done this to my mom!” “This apartment will be considered compensation for my mom’s medical expenses and for Crystal’s pregnancy! Now, get out, immediately, clean out, and make space!” I looked at his shameless face, feeling only one thing: the diversity of the human species was truly astonishing. A five-thousand-a-month loser, living off me to support his whole family, finds a mistress, gets her pregnant, and then shamelessly brings her back to *my* entirely-paid-for house, even distributing *my* property as if it were his own. “Mark, why isn’t she leaving yet?” Crystal covered her nose, looking at me with disgust. “The sofa she sat on feels dirty. What if she infects my son with bad luck?” “Exactly! Get out! Don’t be an eyesore!” Ashley chimed in, hands on her hips. “Do you really think our family cares about you? My brother is a senior manager at your company now, with a bright future ahead! He can more than support all of us!” I calmly glanced at the security camera next to the TV cabinet, which was blinking red. “Alright.” I stood up and straightened the creases in my clothes. “Since you’re all so ‘loving,’ I won’t interrupt your family bliss.” Mark paused, clearly not expecting me to agree so quickly, without even an argument. “Smart move.” He suppressed the wild joy and greed in his eyes, feigning generosity. “Pack your few old clothes and leave. Don’t even think about taking anything valuable from this house!” I ignored him, walked straight into the walk-in closet, grabbed a small suitcase, and casually packed a few changes of clothes and important documents. At the entrance, I stopped and turned back to look at the two on the sofa, still being all lovey-dovey. “Mark, I hope you remember what you said tonight. You and your family had better enjoy this apartment.” With that, I opened the door and walked out without looking back. As the door closed, I clearly heard Crystal’s seductive laughter. “Mark, you’re amazing! You got rid of that old hag with just a few words! Now this big house is ours!” “Of course! In this house, I call the shots!” Mark boasted proudly. I stepped into the elevator, pulled out my phone, and a cold smirk played on my lips. The show had only just begun.

I pressed the 18th floor on the elevator. The 18th floor of this building was also my property, which I’d converted into a private studio and lounge. Mark and his family had no idea. I poured myself a glass of red wine and walked to my computer, pulling up the security camera feed from upstairs. On the monitor, the group who had taken over my apartment was already eagerly starting their new lives. Crystal was directing Ashley to throw my belongings out the door. “That vase’s color is too dark, it looks like an urn, throw it out!” “What’s with that messy painting? It’s bad luck, take it down and use it as trash lining!” Ashley, like a diligent minion, unhesitatingly swept the antique vase I’d bought at Sotheby’s for over one hundred fifty thousand dollars into the trash. “Crystal, how’s this?” Ashley asked, smiling obsequiously. “It’ll do, I guess,” Crystal said arrogantly, patting her belly. “Mark, tomorrow I want to throw a baby shower and invite all my best girlfriends to see our new home.” “No problem! Whatever my wife wants, she gets! I’ll transfer you money tomorrow, spend as much as you like!” Mark puffed out his chest, grandly. I watched his pathetic attempt to play the big shot on the screen, a cold sneer on my face, as I opened my mobile banking app. First step: I stopped all automatic payments linked to this apartment, including utilities and the hefty property management fees. Second step: I immediately reported the credit card linked to my account, which Mark held with a one million dollar limit, as lost and froze it. Initially, I had ignored the board’s opposition and secretly arranged a figurehead managerial position for him at a branch company. Even that credit card was given to him to save face and maintain his ridiculous ego when he was out. I never imagined he’d mistake my charity for his own capability. Using my money to support another woman, and trying to seize my apartment? Pure fantasy. After doing all this, I sent a message to Mr. Clark, my company’s CFO. “First thing tomorrow, initiate a comprehensive financial audit of Mark’s department at the branch company. Investigate all accounts he handled; not a single cent should be missed.” Mr. Clark replied instantly: “Received, Ms. Sophia.” I swirled the red wine in my glass, watching the scumbag and mistress embracing and sleeping on the monitor, my eyes chillingly cold. Enjoy your last hurrah.

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I was kidnapped 99 times by my husband Caleb Hayes’s enemies. The hundredth time, I cut my ropes and escaped home, just wanting to fall into his arms and cry. But at the door, men’s and women’s clothes were strewn across the floor. The tie I’d given him for our anniversary was draped over a piece of sexy lingerie. From the bedroom, Willow Fairmont’s voice drifted out. “Caleb, you have Mia kidnapped every time you want to avoid taking her out, and then you sleep with me. What exactly is she to you?” Through the crack in the door, Caleb’s low chuckle echoed. “What can Mia compare to you? She doesn’t even have a high school diploma. She’s too embarrassing to bring out.” “Besides, even if she found out, what could an orphan with no money or power do?” I froze, my blood running cold. It turned out that every single kidnapping over the past five years had been orchestrated by him. But he didn’t know that my billionaire parents had just reconnected with me three days ago. Mia POV I was kidnapped 99 times by my husband Caleb Hayes’s enemies. During the 100th kidnapping, I used a small knife hidden in my shoe to cut the ropes and escape. Stumbling and scrambling to my feet, my first thought was to go home. Caleb must be frantic, searching for me. But when I opened the door, what I saw were men’s and women’s clothes scattered from the entryway into the living room. Among them was the tie I’d given Caleb for our fourth wedding anniversary. Draped over the tie was a piece of sexy lingerie. My mind went blank, and my breath hitched. I stiffly walked toward the bedroom, the intimate sounds growing clearer as I approached. “Caleb, every time you need a date for a public event, you have Mia kidnapped and send me in her place. I’m the one you’re sleeping with, so who’s really your wife? Aren’t you afraid she’ll find out?” “Or is it that Mia just can’t satisfy you?” The voice belonged to Willow Fairmont, Caleb’s former arranged marriage partner, and supposedly his enemy. Yet now, despite her provocative words, her tone was clearly triumphant. Then, Caleb’s husky, satisfied voice came from behind the half-closed door. “What can Mia compare to you?” “Her embarrassing appearance at her first formal event cost me a major project and made me a laughingstock for a year.” “Business is war, and the woman by a man’s side reflects his capability. I can’t have a woman without even a high school diploma standing beside me. She just lacks the refinement I need.” “Besides, even if she found out, what could she do?” Caleb sounded supremely confident. “She’d never give up the status of Mrs. Hayes now.” “I only have her kidnapped because I’m afraid she’ll make a scene if she knows. It’s a hassle.” Willow chuckled. “Then why not just drug her? We could even do whatever we want while she’s incapacitated. Wouldn’t that be more exciting?” “Drugging her…” Caleb mused for a moment, then replied lightly, “Drugging her would be too harsh on her body. Kidnapping is more straightforward.” He laughed, teasing, “What, are you jealous? Want a title? How about being my mistress?” “You think you qualify as my lover?” Willow wasn’t offended. “Don’t forget who called me a bitch and then crawled into my bed.” “Yes, I fell first. From the first time I saw you, I was captivated.” “Willow, I’ll tell them to keep Mia for a few more days… will you stay with me for another week?” The atmosphere grew increasingly intimate, and I couldn’t bear to listen anymore. I fled from what, just a second ago, had felt like my safest haven. I ran faster and faster, but my leg injury, still not fully healed from a previous kidnapping, flared up. With a thud, I fell into the mud from the recent rain, splattering myself from head to toe. My elbow scraped raw, leaving me utterly disheveled. “Don’t cry.” I bit down hard on my lower lip, forcing myself to hold back the tears. “Mia, there’s nothing to cry about!” From childhood, when I was homeless with no parents, I didn’t cry. When I was robbed of food and beaten on the ground, I didn’t cry. Every time I fell, I never cried. I shouldn’t cry now either. But tears welled up uncontrollably. It turned out that all my suffering over the past five years had been inflicted by Caleb. From the first kidnapping, I was pushed from a third-story window, breaking my leg. During the second kidnapping, I was so traumatized that I miscarried the baby I was carrying, making it impossible for me to conceive again. The third kidnapping left me with claustrophobia. I nearly suffocated. By the 99th kidnapping, I was suffering from severe PTSD. I was terrified of strangers, the dark, ropes. Any small fright would send me into trembling fits and make me vomit. At my worst, I spent three months in the hospital, surviving only on IV drips, unable to eat anything. My stomach churned. Even though I was safe now, the illness struck, and I couldn’t stop dry heaving. I began to sob softly, then burst into uncontrollable tears. It was as if I needed to release all the love I had for Caleb. It started twenty years ago, when I was six and saved a dying Caleb. We scavenged for food together, hid from human traffickers, and then entered the same orphanage. When I was in tenth grade, the orphanage closed, and we ended up on the streets. Our teacher said Caleb’s grades meant he had a good chance of getting into a prestigious university like Harvard. I couldn’t bear for him to miss a life-changing opportunity, so I started working to support his education. During our poorest times, I gave him all my money, surviving on instant noodles once a day for three months. Caleb watched me waste away, his eyes red as he promised, “Mia, I will give you the best life possible.” His promise was fulfilled in another way. After graduating from Harvard, the Hayes family found him. Still with grease stains from the kitchen on my pants, I was brought by Caleb to their opulent mansion. The Hayes family was extremely displeased with me, threatening Caleb with disinheritance if he didn’t break up with me. “Who are you to be his wife?” Caleb immediately took me to register our marriage. “My Mia deserves all the best things in the world. I can disown myself from your family, but I will only marry her in this lifetime.” So, when Caleb said he was worried I’d be kidnapped by more enemies and therefore never appeared with me in public or in the media, I understood. No matter how much pain I suffered because of him, I never blamed him. But I failed to notice that Caleb had changed long ago. From the first formal event I attended, where, unaccustomed to high heels, I was intentionally tripped, and a champagne tower spilled all over me. I became a laughingstock. But that wasn’t my last public embarrassment. Some people laughed because I didn’t understand French and deliberately taught me to insult myself in the language. They mocked my cheap food, called my name old-fashioned, and covered their noses, saying I smelled. I endured it. I thought as long as Caleb didn’t find me embarrassing, it didn’t matter. But now, his heart belonged to another woman. All that was left for me was deceit and pain. If that’s the case, then I don’t want him anymore. I don’t want our twenty years together. Wiping away my tears, I stood up and borrowed a stranger’s phone to call his mother. “As you wish, I agree to divorce Caleb.”

Mia POV Afraid I would change my mind, she demanded I come sign the divorce papers the next day. “You don’t need to worry about Caleb. Don’t tell him about this. Just wait a month until the divorce is finalized, and then leave immediately.” “And of course, you won’t get a penny.” I had no objection. No sooner had I hung up than a Maybach screeched to a halt on the roadside. Caleb got out of the car and strode quickly to my side, not caring about the dirt on me as he hugged me tightly. “Mia, I was so worried about you!” He held me as if he wanted to absorb me into his body, his voice trembling with obvious urgency. In the past, every time I was rescued, I only felt safe in his arms. But now, as I smelled Willow’s perfume on him, I only felt revulsion and a chill throughout my body. “Worried about me?” My voice was cold. “Were you really worried?” When he laughed about having me kidnapped for a few more days, was he worried about me, or was he savoring Willow’s kiss? Caleb keenly sensed I was different from usual, assuming it was just because I was traumatized. When he saw the scratches on my hand, his expression changed. “How did you hurt your hand? Did you get injured while escaping? Does it hurt?” “I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I failed to protect you again. Don’t be afraid, we’re going home.” Without waiting for my answer, Caleb picked me up and placed me in the car. Less than an hour later, the mansion was spotless, with no trace of another woman. After applying medicine to my wounds, Caleb was about to hold me and sing my favorite songs repeatedly, as he had the ninety-nine times before. But I refused his touch. “I want to be alone today.” Caleb paused but didn’t seem to suspect anything. The next morning, after signing the divorce papers, I went to the orphanage to sort things out before my departure. After Caleb brought me back to the Hayes family, I gradually used my savings to build an orphanage. Even when my condition wasn’t suitable for work after being kidnapped, I continued to serve as director, personally managing its affairs. But now that I was leaving, I needed to arrange for the children’s future. The vice-director was the best candidate. We grew up in the same orphanage, and I trusted her character and ability. Things were a bit sudden, but Chloe eventually solemnly promised not to let me down. “Mia, you’re leaving? Where are you going?” I shook my head. “I don’t know, I just want to live in a different city.” “Are you going with Caleb? I still remember when he was ten, someone wanted to adopt him, but he clung to you and refused to leave, saying he couldn’t be separated from you.” I paused, not answering. But Caleb had changed. Once a person changes, all their past promises mean nothing. Now, I just wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Chloe was about to say something else when a girl suddenly rushed into the office, smiling and bowing to me. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you personally. I got an internship at Hayes Corporation. If Mr. Hayes hadn’t given me an interview opportunity because of you, my qualifications would have surely been screened out at the resume stage.” I was a bit taken aback. “An interview?” Chloe explained, “You didn’t know? Caleb has actually been helping you all along.” “Not just with the internship. Last month, when you were hospitalized, a girl who had been abandoned was taken back by her parents. If Caleb hadn’t intervened, that girl would have been sold to Southeast Asia. Several children in the orphanage who needed surgery, he connected us with hospital specialists and paid for their treatments.” “Yes, yes!” Lily, the girl next to us, chimed in. “Mr. Hayes cares so much about you! He’s been secretly donating to the orphanage and said you weren’t well and he didn’t want you to worry too much about the place.” “He said he would prepare everything for you.” I was stunned for a long while. In the five years since returning to the Hayes family, Caleb had not truly gained his parents’ approval or real power within the company. Therefore, I wouldn’t trouble him with my own affairs. Even during the early days of establishing the orphanage, when funds were scarce, I never asked for his money. It turned out Caleb had done so much behind my back. But then I thought, what else had he hidden from me?

Mia POV After spending a week completing the handover, I returned to the mansion with a complicated heart, only to see Willow standing in my room. She held a lighter, using it to set fire to a stuffed doll. “What are you doing?!” My face instantly drained of color. I ran over, snatched the doll, and extinguished the flames with my bare hands, but it was too late. The cloth doll, once ignited, burned quickly. Even with my desperate attempts to save it, only a few charred cotton remnants and shredded fabric remained. This doll was the only thing I had carried with me during my homeless days, and my only connection to my birth parents. I had carefully preserved it for twenty years, and now it was gone, just like that. “How dare you destroy my property?!” Willow, however, merely chuckled dismissively. “Oh, I thought it was just some trash.” “You’re getting so worked up over a piece of garbage. How can you be Caleb Hayes’s wife and still be so common?” “Did you get addicted to picking up trash when you were a kid?” I frowned. “What nonsense are you talking about!” The commotion attracted Caleb and Willow’s mother, but before they reached us, Willow suddenly slapped herself. By the time I realized what she was doing, Willow had completely changed her expression, her face a mask of grievance as she rushed into her mother’s arms, who had just entered the room. “Mom, Mia suddenly lost it and slapped me because of a broken doll.” Willow’s mother’s gaze instantly turned icy. “Caleb, are you trying to insult us? My daughter finally forgave you for breaking off your engagement, and now you let her suffer such humiliation? Do you still want our families’ collaboration to continue?” Caleb’s face darkened. “Mia, what are you doing? Apologize at once!” The blisters on my hand from the fire stung, and I gritted my teeth. “Apologize for what? Can’t you see this blatant setup? I didn’t hit her; she burned my doll!” “You know that doll was the only thing my parents left me!” Willow, her eyes red and swollen with tears, said, “I’m sorry, Mia. That doll was so tattered, I thought it was garbage. I didn’t know what it meant to you.” “But your parents didn’t want you, and keeping that doll won’t make them want you now.” Her words completely infuriated me. I bristled, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, and lunged forward, wanting to slap Willow’s provoking face. But before I could even touch Willow, Caleb shoved me away. My head slammed directly against a table, the pain so intense that my vision blurred. “Enough, Mia! Look at where we are!” “This isn’t a big deal; why would you hit her?” Caleb’s face was grim. “Besides, is she wrong? It’s been over twenty years. If your parents really wanted you, they would have found you by now.” “Hitting someone over a broken doll. When did you become so unreasonable?” “You may not have parents to care for you, but others do! Apologize!” The man before me spoke the most hurtful words. He had personally witnessed people pinning me down, forcing me to admit I was unwanted trash. I was beaten until I coughed blood, but I never broke down. Yet, he would still, for Willow, stab a knife into my heart. And the sharpest blade, no less. I suddenly laughed. Laughed at my own foolish self-pity. He said he would prepare everything for me, secretly handling the orphanage’s problems. I had thought he at least held a little genuine feeling for me. Slap! I landed a harsh blow across Caleb’s face. Before anyone could react, I raised my hand again. Another slap! “Caleb, this is unreasonable.” My voice was ice-cold. Caleb’s face darkened, and he, too, was enraged. After all, even during his time on the streets, no one had ever hit him like that. And after five years with the Hayes family, he was no longer the orphan who had to endure to survive. “I’ve spoiled you too much, allowing your old bad habits to fester into this. You’re due for a bit of hardship.”

Mia POV Caleb locked me in the basement and didn’t even send food down. “Go reflect on your mistakes. You’ll come out and eat when you admit you were wrong.” Over the years of being kidnapped, I had developed severe stomach problems. I also had nyctophobia; I had to sleep with the lights on, or I would tremble uncontrollably. Caleb knew all this. He had seen me white-faced with stomach pain and had stayed up all night caring for me; he had cried with concern when he saw me huddled in a corner, shivering. Yet, he still did this to me because of Willow. I laughed, a truly bitter laugh. This stalemate lasted three days. On the evening of the third day, huddled in the corner, I received an audio message from Willow: “Back then, I was afraid of her rude and unreasonable personality, which is why I faked her kidnappings.” “You wouldn’t believe it, there was a girl who sent Caleb a love letter once, and Mia had her face disfigured.” “Honestly, I somewhat regret impulsively rushing into marriage with her back then.” My heart felt a dull ache, and I gritted my teeth, suppressing a surge of bitterness. Caleb only remembered me disfiguring that person’s face but forgot that the girl had deliberately pushed me down the stairs first. At the time, that girl had sent him a love letter only because she had made a deal with someone. To date him and sabotage his grades to knock him from the top of his class. I hadn’t told him these things. But it made him wrongly believe I was jealous. After he got involved with Willow, he feared I would harm her, so he chose to hurt me instead. I suddenly felt like a complete joke. As if the audio wasn’t enough, Willow continued. “Mia, that day you escaped, you heard the sounds from the mansion, didn’t you?” “Your husband plans to take me to Australia to buy a vineyard as compensation. Guess what, will you be kidnapped again?” She sent me details of all the places she and Caleb had visited over the years and what they had done. Last month, they drank wine under the Eiffel Tower. At that time, I was abandoned in a desolate area, listening to wolves howl for nights. Last winter, they went to the Southern Hemisphere to enjoy spring. At that time, I was being harassed with lewd comments by kidnappers, too terrified to sleep, clutching my clothes in fear for a week. They traveled the world. And these locations were all places Caleb and I had wished to visit together when we were kids, huddled under blankets. It turned out that the wishes two people made together could be fulfilled with someone else. While I prayed countless times for Caleb to save me from my predicament, he was gently kissing Willow, laughing so happily. The contrast was too stark; my stomach clenched physiologically, the pain making me break into a cold sweat. Eventually, I even threw up a mouthful of blood. I fainted. I woke up again in a hospital, with an IV drip in my arm. Caleb sat by my bed, his eyes shadowed with dark circles, clearly having stayed up all night to care for me. We looked at each other in silence. After a long time, he sighed deeply and was the first to lower his head. “Alright, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have said such harsh things. My mistake.” “But you also have to understand me. You slapped me in front of our guests; where does that leave my dignity?” “But you can’t bully Willow anymore. You’re so strong; how could a fragile young woman like her withstand your slap?” He still thought it was my fault, but I no longer bothered to explain. Whether he believed me or not, it didn’t matter anymore. Seeing my silence, Caleb thought I was still angry. He took my hand and coaxed, “Alright, don’t let this affect our relationship. Your birthday is in two days. For the past few years, you were either kidnapped or I was busy, so we never celebrated properly. This year, how about I take you to your favorite restaurant for your birthday?” I pulled my hand away, closed my eyes, and said nothing. There were still twenty days until the divorce was finalized. Just twenty more days to endure. On my birthday, a driver picked me up and took me to a private dining room at a restaurant. After sitting down, it wasn’t Caleb who arrived. “Well, well, isn’t this Caleb Hayes’s little… woman? Why are you alone? Did Caleb leave you lonely?” I looked over; it was Victor Thorne, a business partner of Caleb’s. He seemed to have been drinking, his face flushed, as he steadily advanced towards me. I immediately realized his intent, and my scalp tingled with dread. “What are you doing? Get away! Or I’ll call for help!” My threat had no effect. He lunged at me, pinning me to the ground with one hand and fumbling with my clothes with the other. “Blame your husband! He’s ruined my plans too many times. Today, I’m going to make him taste what it’s like to have his wife humiliated!”

Mia POV “Let go! Let go of me!” “Help!” I struggled, landing a punch on Victor’s face, which completely enraged him. His eyes were vicious, and he clamped his hands tightly around my throat. “You want to die, don’t you?!” A sudden wave of suffocation washed over me. He really intended to kill me, and I couldn’t break free. Gradually, I lost my strength. Just as I despaired, the private room door was kicked open. The next second, Victor was yanked up by Caleb, his fists smashing into bone with increasing force. Caleb’s voice was as cold as ice. “Who gave you the guts to lay a hand on my person?!” Caleb was in a frenzy, his eyes blazing with a terrifying crimson. After dealing with Victor, he carefully took off his jacket and draped it over me, his hands shaking as he held me. “Mia, are you okay? It’s over, I’m here.” Tears streamed uncontrollably from my eyes. I tried to say something but passed out. When I woke up, it was night. The marks on my neck had been treated with medicine. Caleb stood a short distance away, talking on the phone. “Mom, Dad, I will press charges against Victor. Even if you object, even if it jeopardizes our collaboration with his family and costs the company, I will make him pay.” “I can’t let Mia be wronged.” On the phone, his parents vehemently opposed him, but Caleb was no longer listening to them as he usually did. His mother, furious, blurted out, “Mia is about to divorce you! Are you still going to jeopardize the company’s development for her?” My heart skipped a beat at her words. Caleb frowned. “Mom, what are you talking about?” “I told you, even if Mia can never have children, I will not divorce her.” “She only has me now.” With that, he hung up the phone. Seeing me open my eyes, he walked to the bedside, his coaxing voice so gentle it could melt ice. “You’re awake? Does anything hurt?” “It’s okay; the bad guy has been dealt with. No one will hurt you again.” My throat was terribly sore, and I couldn’t speak for a moment. “Throat hurts? Here, the doctor said drinking this medicine will help.” Caleb held the medicine and personally fed it to me. For a moment, I was lost in a haze, feeling as if I had returned to the days when we relied on each other. “Oh, right, I prepared a birthday gift for you.” After feeding me the medicine, Caleb pulled out a beautifully wrapped gift box. Inside was a thick gold bangle, with roses carved all around its surface. “You always said you’d buy gold when you had money. It’s a bit late, and I didn’t expect tonight to turn out like this, but… happy birthday, Mia.” He put the gold bangle on my wrist, held my hand, his expression sincere. “I hope my Mia is always happy and joyful.” I was speechless. If it had been before, I probably would have been moved to tears. Moved that he remembered my casual remark. But this gift came truly too late. My throat injury wasn’t severe enough to require hospitalization. Back home, I collapsed from exhaustion and fell asleep. I woke up in the middle of the night due to discomfort in my throat and got out of bed to get a glass of warm water. Passing Caleb’s study, I overheard him talking on the phone with his lawyer friend. “Caleb, I didn’t realize you’d sacrifice your own wife to get revenge for Willow.” “But your plan was brilliant: drug Victor, make him lust after Mia and sexually harass her, then you swoop in as the hero, taking the moral and legal high ground to punish him.” “After this incident, the Thorne family is doomed, and he’ll never dare to offend Willow again.” I was stunned, my blood freezing in my veins. “But why didn’t you let Willow handle Victor herself? With the Fairmont family’s connections, Victor could have gotten a harsher sentence.” Caleb frowned. “That method, while effective, carries risks.” “Victor is quite strong, and Mia has been good at fighting since she was a child, so she wouldn’t truly be harmed. Unlike Willow; she’s never even gotten a scratch since she was little, how could she endure a beating?” “Aren’t you afraid your wife would get hurt? No matter what, she’s still a woman. Victor was so brutal then, what if…” Caleb pressed his lips together, and there was a moment of silence. After a while, he spoke softly: “But what you said didn’t happen, did it? Mia has always been strong. A few injuries are nothing. A little hardship, and I can compensate her.” “Besides, Mia offended Willow a few days ago, so this was a good opportunity to make amends to her.” “Willow is different.” His voice carried a note of preciousness. “She’s a princess; how could I bear to let her suffer any hardship?”

Mia POV Outside the door, I felt as if an invisible hand was squeezing my throat again. I rubbed my dry eyes. Looking at the gold bangle on my wrist, I smiled bitterly. So, this was compensation. So, resisting his parents to sue Victor wasn’t for me after all. In his eyes, what was I? Injured, but it wouldn’t hurt; wronged, but it was nothing. I meant nothing at all! Even though my heart ached, I was already numb. I didn’t rush in to confront him; I just quietly returned to my room. During my recovery, Caleb cared for me meticulously, except when he was at work. Meanwhile, I began to deal with the things Caleb had given me. I sold the gold bangle and all the luxury items Caleb had given me, converting everything into cash and depositing it into the orphanage’s account. With fifteen days left until the divorce was finalized, Caleb took me for a follow-up check-up at the hospital. Willow came with us. “I need a check-up, too. Caleb, can you give me a ride on the way? Mia, you don’t mind, do you?” Without waiting for my answer, she opened the car door and sat directly in the front passenger seat. Caleb frowned slightly. “You should sit in the back. It’s not appropriate for you to sit in front.” Willow pouted. “Oh, is that Mia’s exclusive seat? But I always sit in the front passenger seat. Otherwise, I won’t go.” “Mia, do you mind if I take your seat?” I ignored her and got into the car. Willow paused for a moment, then smiled. “See? Even Mia doesn’t care. Caleb, I don’t care, I’m sitting in the front.” On the way, the car was filled only with Willow’s sweet, delicate voice. Caleb, however, responded distractedly, constantly checking me in the rearview mirror. “Mia, what do you want to eat after your check-up? Should I cook for you personally?” “Whatever.” Caleb was about to say something else when Willow suddenly reached into his suit pocket and exclaimed. “Caleb, so my lipstick was here all along! No wonder I couldn’t find it.” “It must have fallen in when you slept over at my place, I wasn’t careful.” Her words were intimate, and Caleb instinctively looked at me, but I showed no reaction. He hastily said, “Mia, I stayed overnight at Willow’s house to discuss a project; it wasn’t for any other reason. Don’t misunderstand.” Willow also smiled and explained, “Yes, Mia, there’s no way anything could happen between Caleb and me. Even though we’re collaborating now, he and I will always be enemies.” I heard the provocation in her words. I could foresee that if I hadn’t discovered the truth about the kidnappings, if we hadn’t divorced, then scenes like today, designed to cause ‘misunderstanding,’ would play out countless times in the future. Once I questioned Caleb, I would be labeled as an unreasonable, crazy woman. But I didn’t want to be a crazy woman. “Understood.” Caleb saw my cold reaction and was about to speak when suddenly, BAM! Our car was rear-ended directly by a large truck. Through the rearview mirror, I saw the driver was Victor Thorne, who had escaped. “Caleb Hayes, you want to send me to prison, you want to ruin me, right? Then let’s die together!” His eyes were savage, and his car sped wildly, clearly intending to take us all down with him. Just as we were about to collide with the vehicle ahead, Caleb swerved the steering wheel sharply. Our car slammed into the roadside barrier, and Victor’s truck careened into the opposite lane, crashing into a large concrete barrier. Victor died instantly. A dull pain exploded in my abdomen. In the second before I lost consciousness, I saw Caleb quickly shield Willow beneath him. When I regained consciousness, I felt as though my internal organs had shifted. The immense pain made every breath feel like torture. “Caleb, I’m in so much pain.” Willow’s face was covered in blood, and she cried piteously. “I’ve lost so much blood; am I going to die?” “But I don’t want to die…” I saw Caleb tightly holding her hand, hooking his pinky finger to promise, “No, you won’t. I won’t let you die.” Beside me, there was no one. All three of us were injured. Caleb’s injuries were the lightest, and he could still walk. Willow and I, however, were both lying on stretchers. Nurses rushed over after checking our blood. “Doctor, both patients are O-negative, but the hospital blood bank is out of O-negative blood. It’ll take at least half an hour to get emergency blood delivered.” The doctor frowned. “That’s too long.” Caleb quickly stepped forward. “I’m O-negative; I can donate blood to them.” “Doctor, he’s also injured. We can’t take too much. Right now, it’s only enough for one patient.” “Which one first?” The doctor pointed at me. “Give Mia the transfusion first. Willow can still speak and can wait for the blood to arrive. But Mia has lost too much blood. If she doesn’t get a transfusion soon, she’ll die.” At these words, Willow clung to Caleb, her wails suddenly escalating. “Caleb, I hurt! Save me! I feel like I’m going to die!” I strained against my heavy eyelids. I felt myself teetering on the edge of death. Only Caleb was familiar in this chaos; I wanted him to hold me. I wanted to say I was scared, I was so cold. And I hurt, too. But I didn’t even have the strength to speak. In the silence, my eyes met Caleb’s. I also saw him hesitate, then point at Willow. “Save her first.” The doctor tried to persuade him further, but Caleb insisted, “It’s my blood. I say who gets saved first. Otherwise, I won’t donate.” In that instant, I stopped myself. I didn’t want to say anything. It was pointless. In Caleb’s eyes, I was no longer important. It was a good thing I didn’t love him anymore. I would never love him again in this lifetime. After a brief stalemate, the doctor didn’t dare wait any longer. She told Caleb to get ready while urging the nurses to rush the emergency blood delivery. That day, waiting for the blood, I felt like I was going through all the pain I’d ever experience in my life. Every breath tugged at the wound in my abdomen, every tiny movement hurt so much it made my vision blur. I could hear Caleb constantly encouraging Willow. I wanted to cry, but my tears seemed to have dried up along with my blood.

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I was ten minutes late to the movie theater, stuck in the pouring rain and unable to get a ride. I quickly apologized to my boyfriend, Liam Walker. He impatiently said, “What’s the point of apologizing?” I froze. Every time I apologized, he never forgave me. I’d pulled three all-nighters working non-stop and forgot to snag concert tickets for him. He coldly pulled his hand away from mine. “What’s the point of apologizing? You can’t even handle a simple task.” I accidentally stained his favorite white shirt, and he flew into a rage. “What’s the point of apologizing? This is my favorite shirt!” But when his intern, Chloe Davis, spilled coffee and ruined his proposal, he didn’t get angry. Instead, he wiped her tears. “You don’t need to apologize. It hurts me to see you cry.” Watching him get angry now, I finally let go of our seven-year relationship. I was tired. From now on, I wouldn’t apologize anymore. I was drenched, rain trickling from my hair onto the carpet. Liam didn’t even glance at me. He walked straight to the VIP lounge. His intern, Chloe Davis, was sitting there. She held two steaming cups of coffee in her hands. Seeing Liam, she immediately broke into a sweet smile, then nervously peered past him. “Liam, isn’t Alice here yet? Should I not have come to drop off these files? Am I interrupting something…?” Her voice, not far away, reached my ears perfectly. Liam naturally took the coffee. “She’s late. Someone with no sense of time doesn’t deserve to be on a date.” “But the movie’s about to start…” “Since you’re here, take this ticket and watch it with me.” Liam’s tone was flat, as if he were talking about the most ordinary thing. I froze. That wasn’t just any movie ticket. To qualify for this exclusive limited-time premiere, I’d pulled three all-nighters, doing the entire marketing and publicity campaign for the organizers for free. All because Liam had casually mentioned, “I really wish I could see it on the big screen just once.” I used to think this movie would be a milestone in our seven-year relationship. But now, he had casually handed my hard work over to an intern he’d only had for three months. I took a deep breath, choking back the bitterness in my throat. Squelching in my rain-soaked heels, I walked step by step towards them. Hearing my footsteps, Liam turned sharply. When he saw it was me, his brows furrowed instantly. He instinctively shielded Chloe behind him. His eyes were filled with undisguised defensiveness and disgust. “Alice Linwood, if you dare make a scene here, we’re over.” “Alice, please don’t misunderstand, I just came to drop off some urgent files…” Chloe cowered behind him, her eyes instantly welling up with tears. I didn’t cry, nor did I question him. I simply took the two tickets from my bag and handed them over. Liam was stunned. He looked at my expressionless eyes, his frown deepening. “What game are you playing now?” “Nothing.” I slipped the tickets into his coat pocket, my voice as soft as the wind. “Liam Walker, enjoy the movie.” With that, I didn’t hesitate for a second. I turned and walked out of the cinema. Until the glass doors closed behind me. I could still feel his incredulous gaze. He probably couldn’t fathom it. The Alice Linwood who loved him so much she lost herself. Why today, there wasn’t even an apology after the fact.

Outside, the heavy rain continued. I didn’t carry an umbrella, letting the icy rain pour over me. My body, exhausted from three days of non-stop work, was wracked with painful stomach cramps. As I passed a flooded intersection, a delivery scooter ran a red light and skidded violently. The handlebars slammed hard into my side. I was thrown through the air, crashing hard onto the asphalt road. Excruciating pain swept through my entire body. The delivery guy was terrified and repeatedly apologized. I was in too much pain to speak, only able to tremble and wave my hand, signaling him to go. Rainwater mixed with mud seeped into my wounds, making me shiver uncontrollably. I lay in a puddle, my vision blurred. Instinctively, I fumbled for my phone and dialed the pinned number. Seven years. It was my reflex. When in danger, when wronged, Liam was the first person I’d call. The phone rang for a long time. Just as it was about to go to voicemail, it connected. “Liam, I was hit by a car…” “Alice Linwood, haven’t you caused enough trouble?” Liam’s voice was low, filled with barely suppressed anger. “Did you time this perfectly to ruin the mood?” “Do you have any idea the movie just got to the most touching part? Chloe was crying because it was so moving!” “Do you seriously have to use this pathetic stunt to guilt-trip me right now?” I opened my mouth. Rainwater poured into my mouth, bitter and acrid. The severe pain in my side made it almost impossible for me to make a sound. But I could still faintly hear the end credits rolling on the big screen from his end of the call. That was the Easter egg I’d shamelessly begged the organizers to add, just to get the tickets. At the very end of the acknowledgments, there would be a small line of text: [To Liam Walker: Our seventh year. May you always swim free like a fish in the deep blue sea. – Alice] I had imagined that when that line appeared, I’d be leaning on his shoulder, listening to him tell me he loved me. Instead, he was sitting in that very seat, with another girl by his side. He didn’t even have the patience to glance at the screen, only caring about wiping away someone else’s tears. “Speak up! Are you mute?” Liam’s patience completely ran out. “I’m warning you one last time, drop the spoiled princess act.” “When I get home, I expect you to apologize to Chloe. You really scared her today.” The call was mercilessly cut. I looked at the black screen and suddenly laughed. A raw, gut-wrenching sound, tears mixing with the rain as they streamed down my face. It pulled at my wounds, making me gasp from the pain, but I couldn’t stop. It felt like a ball of cotton was lodged in my throat. I painfully dragged myself out of the muddy water, limping back home. But the Alice Linwood who always carefully tried to please him. She had died in that downpour.

Pushing open the door, the house was silent. I groped my way into the bathroom in the dark. The person in the mirror was disheveled and pathetic. The bruise on my side was swollen and purple, and the slightest movement sent a sharp, stabbing pain through me. I found the first-aid kit, and trembling, I pressed an iodine swab to my knee. The keypad lock clicked open at the entrance. Followed by Liam’s deliberately lowered, gentle voice: “Watch your step. You can sleep here tonight. I’ll find someone to fix the leak in your dorm tomorrow once the rain stops.” “But, Alice will be angry if she sees me…” Chloe’s voice was timid. “What right does she have to be angry?” Liam sneered. “There’s no way I’d let you stay alone in an apartment with no power.” The overhead living room light flared on, filling the room with blinding white light. Liam walked in, one arm around Chloe, the other carrying her duffel bag. He turned his head and saw me, slumped on the bathroom floor. The curve of his lips instantly vanished. His gaze swept over the bloody swab, his eyes filled with disgust. “Alice Linwood, what kind of stunt is this now?” He walked over, towering above me. “I wondered why you hung up so fast. Turns out you were cooking up some grand scheme at home.” “You dabbed on some antiseptic, made a huge mess, and you think that’s going to make me feel sorry for you?” Antiseptic. The heavy rain outside had washed away the blood on my body. Seeing my silence, Liam grabbed my arm and forcefully pulled me up. His hand clamped down hard on my bruised side. A jolt of excruciating pain shot through my brain. My legs gave out, and I collapsed back onto the floor. “Ah!” Chloe flinched back in fear. Liam abruptly let go, as if touching me for another second would contaminate him. “Alice Linwood, haven’t you made enough of a scene?!” “Chloe’s been startled and got wet from the rain. Do you have to give her grief right now?” I was covered in cold sweat, trembling from the pain. He clearly saw that I was drenched. But he only felt pity for Chloe getting wet. “I’m not making a scene.” Clutching the doorframe, I shakily pulled myself up, my voice hoarse. “I just accidentally fell.” Liam paused for a moment. Perhaps my lifeless gaze made him uneasy. “Good. Go change the sheets in the master bedroom. Chloe has a fever; she’ll sleep in there tonight. You can sleep in the guest room.” That sentence, like a dull knife, severed our last remaining connection. The master bedroom contained the bed I’d chosen, the custom-embroidered pillows with my name, all my personal belongings. Now, he wanted me to give it to another woman. “That’s my room.” I looked at him. “This is my apartment!” Liam pointed to the front door. “If you feel so wronged, then get out now! Don’t stand there bothering me!” Chloe tugged at his sleeve, her eyes brimming with tears. “Liam, I can just sleep on the couch…” “Don’t mind her. She just doesn’t know her place!” Liam squeezed her hand reassuringly. A sweet, metallic taste filled my throat. I didn’t cry, nor did I argue. I turned, dragging my aching leg, and walked into the master bedroom. From behind me, Liam let out a cold snort: “See? If you’d just listened earlier, you wouldn’t have to make such a fuss.” I pulled out the black suitcase from under the bed. I didn’t change the sheets, didn’t tidy the room. I only took my documents, a change of clothes, and my work laptop. Seven years of my youth, it weighed so little. A small suitcase couldn’t even fill it. When I walked out dragging the suitcase, Liam was pouring Chloe a glass of water. Seeing the suitcase, his pupils contracted sharply, then he let out a sneering laugh. “What? Can’t sleep in the master, so you’re playing the runaway game?” He walked towards me, blocking my path. “Alice Linwood, you tried that three years ago. Do you think I’ll chase after you and beg you to come back?” He pointed to the stormy rain outside. “If you’ve got the guts, then get out today.” “If you step foot out that door, even if you beg on your knees, I won’t let you step foot in this apartment again!” My fingers gripping the handle were white, and my legs were so sore I could barely stand. “Okay.” Without a second’s hesitation, I walked past him and pulled open the front door.

I don’t know how long I walked before my phone vibrated in my pocket. The screen lit up. It was a text from Liam: [I canceled your joint credit card. If you don’t have money for a hotel, stop being dramatic and come back to apologize.] I looked at the words on the screen and gave a stiff, humorless smile. That card was for buying our future home. For seven years, I’d faithfully deposited my entire salary into it every month. In his eyes, it was all his money. He could cut off my livelihood at any time, just to force me to yield. I didn’t reply. I immediately blocked his number, pulled out the SIM card, and tossed it into the gutter by the road. Along with it went seven years of my youth, utterly wasted. It was two in the morning. Gritting my teeth, half-dead, I checked into the emergency room at City Hospital Two. The ER doctor held up my X-ray, his brows furrowed in a tight knot. “A comminuted fracture of the right scaphoid bone, and severe soft tissue contusion in your lower back.” “Why did you wait so long to come in for your hand?” The doctor glanced at my medical record. “You’re a concept artist, aren’t you? Your finger joints show long-term strain from holding a pen.” “You need surgery for steel pins immediately, or else this hand won’t even be able to lift heavy objects in the future, let alone hold a pen.” I was drenched, sitting on the cold plastic chair, my mind blank. I was a concept artist. My right hand was my life. “Doctor, please schedule the surgery.” My voice was horribly hoarse. “Go pay the fees. A twenty thousand dollar deposit.” I took the paper and walked with difficulty to the payment window. I searched all my pockets and found only an old payroll card, not linked to Liam. Balance: thirteen hundred dollars. This month, to get those two exclusive movie tickets for Liam, I’d used up all my savings, even overdrafting my food money for next month. I clutched that thin bank card tightly, suddenly feeling despair. I pulled out my phone, wanting to ask someone for money. Scrolling through my contact list, I realized how pathetically barren my life was. To accommodate Liam’s schedule, I had canceled all my social engagements and outings. My closest friend, Chloe Davis. She was currently lying in my master bedroom, sleeping in my bed. At twenty-seven years old, I was homeless, penniless, and nearly an invalid. “Are you going to pay or not? There are others waiting behind you.” The cashier impatiently tapped on the glass. I stiffly stepped aside. Leaning against the pale hospital wall, I slowly slid down, squatting on the floor. I buried my face in my knees, a broken laugh escaping my throat. I trembled with laughter, tears splashing onto the muddy floor. It was too ridiculous. Alice Linwood, you truly live like a joke. Just as I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe. The harsh fluorescent light overhead was suddenly blocked by a shadow. “Alice.” The voice was familiar, yet filled with an undisguised tremble of panic and concern. I slowly lifted my head. Ethan Reed stood before me, breathless. He must have just come from a business function, but his hair was wet with rain. “I was just in the neighborhood for a project, and I saw someone who looked a lot like you walking in the rain…” He crouched down, his gaze falling on my right wrist and my blood-stained knees. His eyes immediately reddened. “What have you done to yourself?” I looked at him, opened my mouth, but no sound came out. The nerves that had been taut all night. Upon hearing that long-lost concern, they completely snapped. My vision went black, and I lost consciousness. In the last second before I passed out, I faintly heard Ethan’s furious roar: “Doctor! Help her!” Meanwhile. New York, our old apartment. Liam Walker stood by the floor-to-ceiling window. Looking at the overwhelming downpour outside, he impatiently tugged at his tie. Half an hour. Alice Linwood hadn’t cried and knocked on the door in the hallway as usual. Nor had she sent any begging texts. “Liam…” Chloe Davis, wearing Alice’s silk pajamas, walked over timidly. “Alice went out so late, will she be okay? Maybe you should call and check?” “What could happen? She has no money, and I canceled that joint credit card.” Liam snorted, his voice certain. “Don’t worry about her. The rain’s so heavy outside, she’ll come crawling back, crying and begging me to open the door, in less than half an hour.” He turned and walked towards the couch. His gaze suddenly caught something on the table, tucked under a glass. It was the velvet ring box he’d bought for his proposal next month. And next to the box, a set of keys lay quietly. Alice Linwood’s apartment keys. Liam’s heart suddenly, inexplicably, skipped a beat.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “409058”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

When the rogue attacked, my Fated Mate, Alpha Jackson, shielded Phoebe without even a glance my way. My son, Thomas, clung to Phoebe’s leg, screaming “bad woman” at me. In the chaos, a chilling numbness spread through me. The pregnancy test report clutched in my hand had long since fallen into a puddle. Just ten minutes ago, I thought it was just another accident. Until Alpha Jackson chose to protect Phoebe. Until my son, Thomas, shoved me, leaving me exposed to danger. It turned out Jackson’s love for me was a lie from the start. I was nothing more than a full-time nanny Jackson hired while Phoebe was away. And I had seven days left until I completely vanished from this world. Scarlett POV After the chaos subsided, the pack’s lead medic was already on site. They swarmed around Phoebe, who was hiding behind Jackson, checking on her and offering treatment. Jackson followed close behind, his brows furrowed in a tight knot. The hand wearing his wedding ring was now clasped tightly around Phoebe’s wrist. Thomas stood beside them, crying so hard his voice was hoarse, repeatedly sobbing, “Phoebe, please don’t die.” Phoebe, the Beta’s daughter who grew up with Jackson. She had only recently returned from the Werewolf Academy. Her mere presence was enough to command his full attention. I stood alone, unnoticed by anyone. The wind dried the blood on my clothes, making the fabric stiff and chafing my skin raw. My abdomen throbbed faintly where Thomas had kicked me hard. Before I could even move, Jackson suddenly turned back. His gaze, cutting through the throng of people, landed on me. It was cold, filled with impatience. “Scarlett, don’t just stand there.” He called my name, his tone like scolding an incompetent subordinate. “Phoebe’s shaken. Go back home, make her a soothing hot tea, and bring it to the hospital.” I wanted to say I was hurt too. I wanted to say my stomach ached. I wanted to say that the ruined paper showed I was six weeks pregnant. But a metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I swallowed it down. “Okay.” I heard my own voice, eerily calm. Jackson seemed satisfied with my obedience. He turned and followed the medics away. The crowd gradually dispersed. I returned alone to the Alpha’s residence in Frostveil Pack. As I walked in, Gamma Lena was pouring a pot of freshly brewed calming tea into a thermos. Seeing me enter, disheveled and covered in mud, she froze, her eyes darting away. “Luna Scarlett… Alpha Jackson called, he asked me to bring Ms. Phoebe a hot drink. He didn’t mention you were also…” She didn’t finish, but I understood. In the werewolf world, pack members must obey the Alpha’s orders. I ignored her awkwardness and went straight upstairs. Passing Thomas’s room, toys were still scattered everywhere. His favorite limited-edition wolf plushie lay alone on the rug, an arm torn off. I had queued all night six months ago to get that limited edition for him. This morning, before we left, Thomas had thrown a huge tantrum because I accidentally knocked over that toy. He pointed a finger at me and yelled, “I knew you weren’t my real mom! If it were Phoebe, she’d never ruin my stuff!” Back then, I just dismissed it as childish talk. Now, it seemed, children’s instincts were often the most accurate. He had known all along who the outsider in this house was. I went back to the master bedroom and locked the door. The bathroom mirror reflected a pale face. A scar marred my forehead, a wound from the chaos. It had healed, leaving only a small mark. I lifted a hand to touch it, feeling nothing. Stripping off my blood-stained clothes, I balled them up and tossed them directly into the trash. Along with the crumpled report, its words now illegible. The wounds on my body had already healed, but the hot water brought a fine sting as it hit my skin. I looked down at my flat lower abdomen. A tiny life had once grown there. Just hours ago, I had been overjoyed, wanting to tell Jackson the good news. Now, there was nothing. That kick had been hard. Compounded by the cold and the shock. Blood streamed down my thighs, forming winding rivulets on the white tiles, before spiraling into the black hole of the drain. I didn’t cry. I just felt tired. After my shower, my phone screen lit up. It was a message from Jackson. Just one short line: Is the soup here yet? Phoebe’s hungry. He didn’t ask if I was hurt. He didn’t ask how bad that kick had been. I stared at the screen for a long time until my eyes ached. Then, I replied: On its way. After sending that message, I pulled open the bottom drawer of my nightstand. Inside lay a one-way ticket to Europe and a bottle of mate-bond breaking potion I’d bought from Elara the Witch. I had thought I wouldn’t need them anymore. With a child on the way, I’d wanted to give this relationship another chance. But now, I was glad I hadn’t destroyed them. I took out the ticket, my thumb tracing the date. It departed in seven days. That was Jackson’s birthday, and the deadline I’d set for myself. I picked up a pen and drew a heavy circle around the date on the calendar. The countdown began.

Scarlett POV The next morning, I was woken by noise downstairs. Jackson was back. He’d brought Phoebe and Thomas with him. I stood at the top of the stairs, watching the cozy scene in the living room. Phoebe wore Jackson’s shirt, its oversized hem covering her thighs, making her look small and delicate. She sat on the sofa, a mug of warm milk in her hands. Thomas nestled in her lap, mouth open, waiting for her to feed him. Jackson sat next to them, cutting fruit. His knife skills weren’t great; the peel broke several times. But he was patient. Before, if I wanted fruit, he’d just frown and say, “Cut it yourself. I’m not your servant.” “Scarlett’s awake?” Phoebe noticed me first. She started to stand, but Jackson pressed his hand to her shoulder. “Sit still. The doctor said you’re weak, don’t move around.” Jackson’s voice was deep. When he turned to me, it immediately turned cold. “Since you’re awake, come down and make breakfast. Lena’s off today, and Phoebe wants your seafood chowder.” My fingers tightened on the railing, knuckles white. Seafood chowder. Everyone in the Pack knew Phoebe was allergic to seafood. Was he testing me, or trying to humiliate me? Or perhaps, between me and Phoebe, he simply forgot who had the allergy. “She’s allergic to seafood,” I said blandly. Jackson’s hand, cutting fruit, paused. The knife blade nicked his thumb. A bead of blood welled up. Phoebe gasped, quickly taking his hand and putting it to her lips. Jackson didn’t pull away. Instead, he looked at her with tender eyes. “Phoebe, you’re so thoughtful.” Then, he looked up at me, his eyes filled with blame. “So you got it wrong. No need for excuses. You weren’t this forgetful before.” Before? How did I live before? Every meal, I had to cater to everyone’s tastes. Jackson didn’t eat garlic; Thomas wouldn’t touch carrots or bell peppers. If even a hint of something they disliked appeared in a dish, the entire spread would be dumped directly into the trash. I remembered everyone’s preferences, yet no one remembered I didn’t eat cilantro. “Maybe I got it wrong.” I didn’t argue, turning to enter the kitchen. If he wanted his darling to drink seafood soup, I’d make it. Cleaning the lobster, chopping onions, simmering the broth. I performed each step methodically. The kitchen’s glass door wasn’t fully closed. Fragments of conversation drifted in from the living room. “Jackson, is Scarlett angry?” It was Phoebe’s voice, laced with a hint of grievance. “Maybe I should move out. I’m not as clingy as Thomas, it’s fine.” “This is my home, and it’s your home. Stay as long as you like.” Jackson’s voice was firm. “As for her, don’t worry about it. Taking care of pack members is the Luna’s responsibility. Just ignore her.” “But…” “No buts. Thomas can’t be without you. Look at him this morning, has he asked for Scarlett even once?” Thomas’s childish voice followed immediately: “I don’t want that bad woman! I want Phoebe to be my mom!” Whoosh— I turned the faucet to full blast. The water rushed over the cold ceramic bowl, washing away those grating voices. I looked down at the sink. A blank face stared back from the reflection. Before, hearing these words would have made me sad. I would have cried all night, buried under my blankets. I would have wondered if I wasn’t good enough, not gentle or considerate enough. But now, my heart was surprisingly calm. It was like watching a clumsy performance. Only laughable. Half an hour later, I carried the steaming soup pot out of the kitchen. Jackson was leaning over, feeding Phoebe freshly cut apple slices. Seeing me, he didn’t even lift his gaze. “Just put it down. Let it cool before serving.” I placed the soup on the dining table, said nothing, and turned to go upstairs. “Stop.” Jackson called out. He put down the apple, pulled a napkin to wipe his hands, and said carelessly, “Clear out your fragrance lab. Phoebe wants to use it for yoga.” My steps froze. That fragrance lab was my only private space in this house. It held my unfinished perfumes. That was my red line. “There’s a gym downstairs,” I said. “The gym doesn’t get enough light.” Jackson frowned. “Just clear it out. Why so much fuss? Your blending stuff isn’t worth anything, it’s just taking up space.” “Blending stuff.” That was my passion. It was the only thing that proved I was once a werewolf warrior with exceptional herbal talent, not just a nanny. But in the eyes of this powerful Alpha, it was just space-wasting trash. “Got it.” I heard myself say. No argument, no hysteria. Jackson seemed somewhat surprised by my obedience, but he didn’t dwell on it. He just waved me away. I went back to my room and pulled out a large black trash bag. Entering the fragrance lab. The bottle of perfume I’d spent three months blending, named “Deep Sea,” stood silently on the workbench. I picked it up. I slammed the bottle to the floor. Glass shattered, a jarring sound. My carefully blended essential oils flowed across the floor, and the scent of herbs instantly permeated the air. I scooped the shards into the trash bag, along with the essential oils, measuring cups, and droppers. Everything was cleaned up. It took less than ten minutes. The once-full room became instantly empty. Only a faint, lingering mixed scent remained in the air. There was no trace of Scarlett left here. Just like in this house.

Scarlett POV I was woken by urgent knocking. I opened the door, and Thomas stood there, holding his wolf plushie with the broken arm, a fierce look on his face. “Bad woman, who told you to touch my toy?!” He threw the plushie hard at my leg. The sharp plastic edge hit my kneecap, a piercing pain. I looked down at my son at my feet. Five years old, and he was the spitting image of Jackson. His eyes, his nose, even that entitled, bossy demeanor were identical. I remembered when he was first born, a soft, cuddly bundle. Jackson disliked his noise, never wanting to hold him. It was me, pacing the room all night, humming lullabies to get him to sleep. His first “Mama,” his first steps, his first time eating with a spoon. Every single moment, I was there with him. But from the day Phoebe returned, everything changed. Phoebe only needed to give him a piece of candy to earn a sweet “thank you.” Yet a whole meal I painstakingly prepared would only earn me a “this tastes awful!” “I didn’t touch your toy.” I bent down, picked up the plushie, and offered it to him. “You broke it yourself yesterday.” “You’re lying!” Thomas slapped my hand away. “Phoebe said you were jealous her gift to me was better than yours, so you ruined it when I wasn’t looking! You’re a wicked witch!” Wicked witch. How could a five-year-old know such a term to describe someone? No need to guess who taught him. I looked at his flushed little face and suddenly felt exhausted. I didn’t even have the energy to explain. “Think what you want.” I walked past him, heading downstairs for water. Thomas clearly hadn’t expected this reaction from me. Before, if he threw a tantrum, I’d frantically comfort him, agreeing to all his unreasonable demands. The anger of being ignored made him instantly lose control. He rushed forward and bit my calf hard. His sharp baby teeth pierced through the fabric, digging into my flesh. I gasped in pain, instinctively pushing him away. It wasn’t a strong push. But Thomas stumbled backward, sat heavily on the floor, and started to wail. “Wah—Daddy! The bad woman hit me!” The laughter downstairs ceased abruptly. Hurried footsteps approached. Jackson stormed up the stairs, saw his son crying on the floor, and me standing nearby, observing coldly. His face immediately darkened. “Scarlett, what are you doing?” He strode over, pushed me aside, and pulled Thomas into his arms. The force was strong. I staggered a few steps, my lower back hitting the stair railing, making me gasp in pain. “She pushed me! She tried to push me down the stairs!” Thomas huddled in Jackson’s embrace, pointing at me and complaining, crying crocodile tears. “I didn’t.” I straightened up, holding the railing, and looked at the father and son. “Didn’t?” Jackson scoffed, his gaze on me filled with disgust. “Thomas is only five. Does he lie? Scarlett, I never realized you were so vicious, you can’t even stand a child?” Vicious. Can’t stand. So that’s what he thought of me. Phoebe also rushed up then, her face anxious, peering at Thomas. “Did you get hurt? Let me see.” She wiped Thomas’s tears, then turned to me, her eyes full of reproach. “Scarlett, children can be difficult. You should just talk to him, why would you hit him? What if he really got hurt…” “Enough.” Jackson cut her off, standing up with Thomas in his arms. He looked down at me, as if I were a criminal. “Apologize to Thomas.” I froze. “I did nothing wrong. Why should I apologize?” “Do I need to repeat myself?” Jackson’s voice was laced with suppressed fury. “Apologize.” I looked into his cold eyes. Five years of shared life, and in his eyes, it meant nothing compared to Phoebe’s manipulation, or Thomas’s lie. I suddenly smiled. A soft, bitter smile. “Fine.” I nodded, looking at Thomas’s little face, contorted with triumph. “I’m sorry.” As those words left my lips, I felt something inside me break completely. It was the last thread connecting me to this family. Thomas snorted, turning his head away from me. Jackson’s expression softened slightly, but still looked grim. “Don’t show your face to Thomas these next few days. You just upset him.” With that, he walked downstairs with his son and Phoebe. A family of three. Such a harmonious sight. I stood there, watching them disappear around the stairwell. The wound on my knee had healed, but the bloodstains remained, and the bite mark on my calf was already bruised. The only things that could harm a werewolf, besides silver, were other werewolves. I should treat myself with herbs quickly. But then I decided not to. Let it be a reminder of what had happened. I returned to my room and pulled a suitcase from under the bed. Opened the closet. Most of the clothes were black, white, and gray — Jackson’s preferred colors. He said bright colors made me look frivolous, and only muted tones suited the Luna’s status. I didn’t take any of them. Only a few outfits I’d bought before we were together, and the photo album hidden deep in the closet. I opened the album. The first photo was of Jackson and me. In the picture, his face was stern, his brows slightly furrowed, as if he was very unwilling. I, on the other hand, smiled like an idiot, my eyes full of light. That was me five years ago. Back then, I believed that if I tried hard enough, loved him enough, this stone would eventually warm up. Now I knew. A stone would never warm up. Especially when that stone’s heart was already occupied by someone else. I took out scissors. Snip— Along the center of the photo. The woman with the happy smile and the ice-cold man were completely separated. I threw Jackson’s half of the photo into the trash can. Only keeping the half with myself, eyes full of light. Though that light, now, was extinguished. But I would rekindle it. Somewhere without Jackson.

Scarlett POV It was late when I finished packing. The suitcase was light, barely half-full. I’d lived here for five years, yet I could take so little with me. I pushed the suitcase to the deepest part of the walk-in closet, covering it with old coats. As I straightened up, the door opened. Jackson walked in. He’d just showered, smelling of shower gel mixed with a faint hint of tobacco. It was the brand of cigarettes Phoebe had given him. He didn’t even look at me, walking straight to the bed and sitting down. As he dried his hair, he said, “There’s a Full Moon Gala tomorrow night. You’ll come with me.” If this were before, I would have been too excited to sleep. Because it meant he acknowledged my status. But now, I only felt sarcasm. “Phoebe’s back, isn’t she?” I walked to the vanity table, picked up my face cream, and applied it. “She’s probably more suitable for such an occasion than I am.” Jackson’s hair-drying paused. He looked at me through the mirror, his brows furrowed again. “Scarlett, are you done with this?” He threw the towel onto the bed impatiently. “Phoebe hasn’t fully recovered. She can’t handle the noise of such an event. You’re my mate, the pack’s Luna. This is your responsibility.” Responsibility. So that’s why I existed. A shield, a tool, a nanny. Anything but a lover. “I’m not going.” I capped the face cream and turned to face him. “I don’t feel well.” Jackson seemed surprised by my refusal. This was probably the first time I’d said “no” to him since becoming his Luna. He stood up, strode over to me, and gripped my jaw. His grip was tight, making me wince in pain. “Scarlett, don’t think I don’t know what games you’re playing.” His eyes were sharp as knives, as if trying to see through me. “Though I don’t know why you smell so weak… but as Luna, don’t be so dramatic. Intentionally not cleaning up your bloodstains and trying to gain sympathy in front of me, what, feeling threatened now that Phoebe’s back?” Threatened? I couldn’t help but let out a short, bitter laugh. Seven days ago, maybe I would have. But now, facing a dying relationship, where was the threat? “Jackson.” I looked him straight in the eyes, my voice so calm it surprised even myself. “I really don’t feel well. And I’m exhausted.” Jackson stared at me for a few seconds. As if trying to find traces of a lie on my face. But he failed. There was no emotion in my eyes—no jealousy, no anger, just a stagnant pool of calm. This serenity felt alien to him, even a hint of inexplicable irritation. He released my jaw and scoffed coldly. “Suit yourself.” With that, he turned to leave. At the doorway, he paused again. “Since you’re not going, don’t regret it. Tomorrow, I’ll take Phoebe. Don’t come crying to me if people start gossiping.” It was a threat. He knew I cared about my standing, about the respectability of this relationship. Unfortunately, he miscalculated this time. “I won’t.” I looked at his back and said softly, “As long as you’re happy.” Jackson’s body stiffened. But he didn’t look back, merely slamming the door shut. Bang! The wall clock trembled. I looked at the closed door and let out a long breath. I hadn’t lied. I really didn’t feel well. The dragging pain in my abdomen hadn’t disappeared; instead, it grew more intense. I found the medicine cabinet, pulled out some painkillers, and swallowed them. The bitter taste of herbs spread across my tongue. I lay in bed and turned off the light. In the darkness, my phone screen suddenly lit up. It was a notification of funds received. Fifty thousand dollars. Immediately followed by a message from Phoebe: Scarlett, thank you for clearing out the fragrance lab for me. This money is compensation for your perfume materials. Jackson asked me to send it, said he didn’t want you to work for nothing. I stared at the long string of numbers. In Jackson’s eyes, my dreams, my dignity, were worth this much. Or rather, it was a hush money of sorts, enabling Phoebe to comfortably usurp my things. I didn’t reply, nor did I refund it. I kept it. Why shouldn’t I? It was what I deserved. Consider it five years of nanny wages, and emotional damages. There would be many expenses in the human world after leaving the pack. I placed my phone face down on the nightstand and closed my eyes. Six more days. Just six more days to endure. Then I’d be completely free. Just as I was drifting off to sleep, a commotion erupted downstairs. It sounded like something shattered, accompanied by Phoebe’s shriek. I rolled over and pulled the blanket over my head. Even if the house collapsed, it had nothing to do with me. That night, I had a dream. I dreamt I was a bird. Trapped in a golden cage, I plucked out all my feathers to please my owner. Finally, the owner opened the cage. Not to release me. But to put in a more beautiful peacock. The featherless bird was carelessly tossed into the trash. Gasping its last breath. When I woke up, my pillow was soaked. Not with tears. With cold sweat.

Scarlett POV I don’t remember how I walked out of the mansion. Only that the sunlight outside was blinding, yet held no warmth against my skin. I went to the Pack’s medical center. It was more like a small clinic. Since werewolves rarely needed extensive treatment, it was quiet and empty. I registered, underwent some necessary exams, and finally found the doctor. “Scarlett?” The doctor, an older woman, pushed up her glasses, her gaze falling on my report. Her brows immediately drew together. “Your condition is very dangerous. You have an incomplete miscarriage, with retained tissue, and you’ve got a wolf venom infection. You need surgery immediately.” Surgery. I knew what that meant. Cold instruments probing my body, scraping away that unformed blood clot, along with all my hopes for the past. “I won’t have surgery.” I heard my own calm voice. “Just give me some strong painkillers.” The doctor looked up sharply, staring at me as if I were insane. “Are you trying to die? This kind of infection is very hard to heal on its own, and it will harm your wolf…” She paused, pointing to the alarmingly low number on the lab report. “Are your wounds healing slower recently? And has your wolf been responding less?” I instinctively pulled down my sleeve, covering the bruise on my wrist. It was from Jackson’s grip yesterday, still not healed. Normally, it would disappear quickly. “I know what I’m doing.” I stood up, didn’t wait for the doctor to say more, and walked out of the examination room. Only I knew that this body was broken. It couldn’t be fixed. Even if I fixed this, there would be something else waiting for me. Rather than let my wolf and I endure this torment, I’d rather finish these last few days with dignity. While picking up my medication, the wall-mounted TV in the lobby was broadcasting news from the werewolf world. “Frostveil Pack’s Alpha Jackson attends Full Moon Gala with a mystery lady, spending millions on a pink diamond necklace…” On screen, Jackson stood tall in a perfectly tailored formal suit. Phoebe clung to his arm, the shimmering pink diamond necklace adorning her neck, smiling blissfully. The reporter’s microphone was practically shoved into their faces. “Mr. Jackson, is this lady your mate?” Jackson didn’t deny it, only looking down at Phoebe, his eyes so tender they could drip honey. “She is the most important person to me.” Many in the lobby were watching, some envious, some gasping. No one remembered that I was the true Luna. I stood behind the crowd, clutching a bag of painkillers, a bitter taste of bile in my mouth. The most important person. Then what was I? Five years of shared life, I stood by him from Alpha heir to true Alpha. To garner support, I fought alongside him until I collapsed from exhaustion; to care for his ailing mother, I stayed by her bedside for three months, missing my own mother’s final moments. In the end, I was just an invisible person, not even worthy of a name. I lowered my head, popping a pill into my mouth. I swallowed it dry, without water. The rough tablet scraped my throat, leaving a burning pain. But this pain felt good. At least it reminded me that I was still alive.

Scarlett POV By the time I returned to the mansion, night had fallen completely. The living room was brightly lit. Thomas was sprawled on the rug, drawing, while Phoebe sat beside him, sharpening pencils. Jackson was reviewing documents. If not for the few large cardboard boxes piled in the corner, this would indeed be a picture of a warm family scene. Those were my things. My books, my tea set, even the few coats I often wore. All haphazardly stuffed into cardboard boxes, like a pile of garbage waiting for disposal. “What’s all this?” I changed my shoes and walked over to the boxes. Gamma Lena, who was sealing a box with tape, startled when she saw me, making the tape rip with a sharp, grating sound. “Luna Scarlett… Ms. Phoebe said the house was too cluttered, easy to collect dust, and not good for Thomas, so…” “I asked Gamma Lena to tidy up.” Phoebe put down her pencil, stood up, and looked at me with an innocent expression. “Scarlett, don’t overthink it. I saw you hardly ever use these things, they were just taking up space. Besides, the doctor said Thomas has a bit of allergic rhinitis, and the house needs to be kept clean.” Allergic rhinitis. Though children at that age often got sick, I didn’t recall him having that condition. I looked at the unsealed box. Inside was a bedtime storybook, its corners worn from use. That was the storybook I read to Thomas every night when he was three. Now it was an allergen. “Just throw them out.” Jackson didn’t even look up, turning a page of his document. “They’re useless anyway.” I looked at the man’s profile. Cold, entitled. As if he wasn’t throwing away my belongings, but me. “Okay.” I bent down and picked up the box. It was heavy. Lena started to help, but I dodged her. “I’ll do it myself.” I carried the box and walked out. As I passed Thomas, he suddenly looked up, holding out his drawing, and called out to Jackson, showing off, “Daddy, look! My family portrait!” Jackson put down his document, took the drawing, and a smile touched his lips. “That’s good.” I instinctively glanced over. There were three people in the drawing. A tall daddy, a pretty mommy, and Thomas in the middle, holding hands. The “mommy” wore a pink dress and a sparkling necklace. That was Phoebe’s outfit today. I wasn’t in the drawing. I felt the box in my arms suddenly weigh a thousand pounds, suffocating me. “Thomas is so talented.” Phoebe patted Thomas’s head, giving me a defiant look. “How about I take you to art classes later?” “Yes! I love Phoebe the most!” Thomas hugged her neck and gave her a loud kiss on the cheek. I averted my gaze and quickened my pace. I walked out the front door, all the way to the open yard outside. I dropped the box heavily to the ground. Thud! A cloud of dust rose. Looking at the storybook, a corner peeking out. It suddenly felt ridiculous. Scarlett, look. The memories you cherished like treasure are, in others’ eyes, nothing but trash to be discarded at any moment. I pulled a lighter from my pocket. Click! A blue flame danced in the night wind. I lit a corner of the box. The fire spread quickly, the dry paper curling and blackening, turning to ash. The firelight reflected in my eyes, feeling hot. At some point, Jackson stood behind me. “What are you doing?” His voice was deep, tinged with surprise. He probably hadn’t expected me to burn my own things. After all, before, even a sticky note, if he’d given it to me, I would have carefully saved it. “As you said.” I watched the dancing flames, not turning around. “Cleaning up trash.” Jackson was silent for a few seconds. “Scarlett, you’ve been acting strangely lately.” He walked over to me, scrutinizing me. “If this is to get my attention, you’re overacting.” Overacting? I turned, looking at the man I had loved for seven years. In the firelight, his profile was still breathtakingly handsome. But my heart, like this pile of ashes, was utterly cold. “Jackson.” I called his name. “If I died one day, would you be sad?” Jackson froze. Then, he frowned, an obvious look of disgust appearing on his face. “Don’t say such morbid things.” He flicked his cigarette ash, his tone cold. “Someone like you, you’re tough as nails. How could you die so easily?” I smiled. Yes. Someone like me, like a wild weed. Stepped into the mud, burned by fire, as long as there’s a root left, I can cling to life. But Jackson. This time, I’m pulling up the roots too. “That’s good.” I said softly. “That’s good.” I won’t love you anymore, Jackson. You destroyed me with your own hands.

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At the Prom, my girlfriend Leah asked me in front of everyone, “Can I have the first dance with Leo Miller?” I agreed without hesitation. Leah immediately took Leo’s hand. The music started, and the two danced gracefully. I turned and walked away. Not long after leaving the school grounds, Leah called: “Leo is shy and too nervous to dance with other girls, that’s why I danced with him.” “If you get jealous again, we’re breaking up!” I just smiled. She didn’t know that just one day earlier, I had applied to a different university than her. I was already planning to break up with her anyway. Leah wore a long white dress, its skirt embroidered with delicate silver threads. Under the lights, she looked like a fairy stepping out of a fairytale. When she walked in, arm in arm with me, all eyes were on us, filled with envy. A few guys even gave me a thumbs-up, muttering things like, “Ethan, you lucky bastard.” But I couldn’t feel happy at all. From the moment we stepped into the hall, Leah’s attention wasn’t on me. She kept her head down, staring at her phone, tapping it open and closing it repeatedly. I offered her a glass of juice, which she took but didn’t drink. She casually placed it on a nearby table, her eyes still glued to the screen. I knew she was waiting for someone. Leo Miller, the guy who transferred to our class a year ago. He came from a tough background; his mother was constantly ill, and his father worked odd jobs to make ends meet. Leah, for some reason, had voluntarily signed up for the school’s mentorship program and became Leo’s contact person. At first, it was just helping him apply for scholarships and sending him study materials. Later, it turned into eating meals together, studying together, and walking around the track together. Some friends had warned me, saying Leah was being too nice to Leo. I remember saying it was fine, that she was just kind-hearted. But the line between kindness and genuine feelings can be incredibly thin sometimes. Ten minutes before the dance began, Leo finally arrived. He wore a dark blue suit, nothing fancy, but it was clean and neat. His hair was carefully styled, making him look quite different from his usual self. The moment Leah saw him, a smile instantly bloomed on her face. I knew that smile all too well. It wasn’t polite, it wasn’t courteous—it was the kind where her eyes truly lit up. “I thought you weren’t coming,” she said, walking toward him, a hint of a playful whine in her voice. “Sorry, I got held up on the way,” Leo chuckled, pulling a small box from his pocket and handing it to her. “For you.” Leah opened it; inside was a bracelet. A simple knot woven from a light pink string, with a few white beads threaded through the middle. The material and craftsmanship looked like something you’d find at a flea market for ten bucks. But she loved it. “It’s so pretty!” She lowered her head and began to unfasten the Givenchy bracelet from her own wrist. That bracelet was a gift from me: a platinum chain with a small, dark green enamel pendant. I had arranged for someone to bring it back from Paris for her sixteenth birthday and personally clasped it around her wrist. That day, she said something I remember to this day. “Ethan, I’ll wear this forever, and never take it off.” Now she was taking it off, so naturally, so casually. She raised her hand, admiring the cheap, handmade beaded bracelet in the light, a gentle curve on her lips.

Leah beamed like a girl who’d just received her favorite candy. I looked at the bracelet she’d removed, and a dull thud echoed in my chest. No pain, just a heavy ache. I turned my face away, not wanting to see it anymore. “Ethan,” Leah said, her voice light, as if discussing something inconsequential, “I want to dance the first dance with Leo. Is that okay?” Before I could reply, Leo spoke up. “Leah, are you sure about this?” he said, his brow slightly furrowed, his tone perfectly pitched with hesitation. “Ethan’s your boyfriend. The first dance should be yours.” As he spoke, his eyes briefly flickered to me, then back to Leah. There was a thin layer of smugness hidden in that gaze, like an undercurrent beneath the surface of still water. He thought he was hiding it well, but everyone could see it. Leah didn’t look at Leo; she just watched me, waiting for my reaction. She probably expected me to frown, to ask “Are you serious?” She probably expected me to throw a tantrum, like the last time she went to the movies alone with Leo. “He just learned ballroom dancing, and he’s nervous about dancing with other girls,” Leah added, as if offering me an out. “You know his situation; we can’t just leave him standing there watching, can we?” I didn’t argue, I didn’t make a scene. I just looked at her for three seconds. In those three seconds, a lot of things flashed through my mind. I remembered the first time I saw her, when we were three years old. I remembered her shining eyes on her birthday, when I helped her put on the bracelet. I remembered the countless times she’d talked about her plans for Harvard University. We applied to the same school, the same major. She’d talked about riding bikes around campus together, grabbing snacks. She always smiled beautifully when she said those things, and I always believed they were real. Three seconds passed. I took a step back, silently giving up my place. Leah paused, surprised by my easy agreement. Her eyes held a hint of shock, even a touch of confusion, as if I’d thrown her off her script. But that surprise lasted less than two seconds before her attention returned to Leo. She took his hand and walked onto the dance floor. The music began—a slow waltz. The two danced gracefully. Leah’s white dress flowed like water in the lights, her steps light and airy. Leo’s movements were a bit stiff, occasionally missing a beat, clearly a beginner. But Leah didn’t care. She looked up at him, her eyes full of smiles. Everyone around them was watching. Some whispered, some took out their phones to snap pictures, and some searched for me. I could feel their gazes sweeping over me, filled with confusion and sympathy. I didn’t look back. I turned and walked towards the hall exit. The night air was chilly as it swept in. As I walked out of the school gates, I instinctively touched the watch Leah had given me on my wrist. The strap was old, the leather starting to crack. I looked down at it, smiled, but didn’t take it off. Not because I cherished it, but because it didn’t matter anymore. My phone screen lit up with a message from Leah. I tapped it open, but didn’t rush to read the content. First, I checked the time. A dance song usually lasts about three minutes. Adding in a minute for her and Leo to chat after their dance, it was exactly the right time for her to be free to contact me. “I told you Leo’s shy, and he just learned ballroom dancing, he’s nervous to dance with other girls.”

“Can you please get over your irrational jealousy?” “Otherwise, when we get to Harvard, I won’t dare tell anyone you’re my boyfriend!” Each message ended with an exclamation mark, each one delivered in that familiar, condescending, scolding tone. As if I had done something wrong again, overreacted again, and should apologize. I read them twice, then smiled. She didn’t know that just one day earlier, I had changed my Harvard application, switching to Stanford University instead. It was the most decisive choice I’d ever made in my life. Back home, I started clearing out everything related to her. A stack of ticket stubs, a jar filled with folded paper stars, and over a dozen birthday cards. Her messy handwriting, from elementary school to high school, always addressed to ‘Ethan.’ I piled all these things into a large cardboard box. Then, the wall. The photo of us at fifteen, standing outside the school in our school gear, her smile so sweet, me half a head taller than her. By my bed, a clumsy little ceramic cat she’d made herself. She’d said it looked like my face. I held that little cat in my hand for two seconds, then tossed it in too. The box was nearly full, but I didn’t seal it immediately. For every item inside, I could tell a story. One movie ticket stub was from the 3D re-release of *Titanic*; she cried so much during it. She leaned on my shoulder, wiping away tears, saying we couldn’t end up like Jack and Rose. One amusement park ticket was from a summer trip. She insisted on riding the roller coaster, then halfway through, she squeezed my arm so hard it left five bruises, making me wince. And a scarf she knitted in middle school. The stitches were uneven, with loose threads everywhere, but she insisted it was the prettiest scarf in the whole class. The box was overflowing, full of her traces. Fifteen years of traces, from three to seventeen, my entire youth. My phone suddenly vibrated; not a call, but a social media notification. I tapped it open and saw that Leo Miller had just posted on Instagram, with two pictures. The first was a hotel room: dim, yellowish lighting, white sheets. The second was a close-up of a pair of crystal high heels. The shoes lay tilted on the carpet, one upside down, sole facing up. I recognized those shoes instantly. Last year, for Leah’s birthday, I’d saved three months of allowance and borrowed money from my dad to buy them. The Swarovski crystal logo was visible on the sole. They were size 6, a perfect fit. She’d walked around the room in them several times when she first tried them on, saying they were the most beautiful high heels she’d ever worn. Leo’s caption read: “She said she drank too much and insisted I take her back to the hotel. Exhausting.” Below, a flurry of comments. “Dude, you’re so lucky!” “A goddess just throwing herself at you! Those shoes aren’t simple, and neither is the girl wearing them!” I stared at the shoes for a few seconds. I walked back to the cardboard box and wrapped sealing tape around it three times. I picked up the box, went downstairs, and threw it into the garbage bin outside our mansion. It landed with a muffled thud, then silence. In the following days, Leah didn’t send a single text or call. I was glad for the peace. A week later, our class rep, Chloe, sent a message in the group chat, suggesting a class dinner. She specifically DM’d me, insisting I had to come. She was Leah’s best friend, inseparable since freshman year. I could pretty much guess what she was trying to do. I told her I was busy, didn’t have time.

“Oh, come on, you’ve already applied to universities. What could you possibly be busy with? You have to come, or don’t call me your friend anymore.” At five in the afternoon, I arrived at the restaurant’s private room. I was about to knock, but my hand paused. Not because I was nervous, but because I heard my own name. “…That night, when you danced the first dance with Leo, weren’t you worried Ethan would get jealous?” Leah’s voice carried a laugh, and a careless indifference: “Worried about what? I fully expected it.” “He needs to be taught a lesson for that awful temper of his.” “He’s so bossy and controlling, he doesn’t give me any freedom.” “What’s the big deal if I dance with someone else? It’s not like I’ll lose a limb.” Someone else asked, “But what if Ethan actually got angry? He’s got so much going for him, and plenty of girls are after him, right?” Leah chuckled again. “Ethan and I have been childhood sweethearts for over fifteen years. I know exactly what kind of person he is better than anyone.” “Don’t worry, he’s just throwing a little tantrum. He’ll be fine in a few days.” “Just like last time, when I insisted on going to the movies with Leo.” She paused, then added, her tone even lighter: “Even if the sky fell, he would never break up with me.” “Of that, I am one hundred percent certain.” I stood outside the door, feeling no heartache, no anger, just exhaustion. It was the kind of exhaustion you feel after walking a very, very long road, finally reaching the finish line. She was right. I had argued, I had made scenes, but I had never brought up breaking up. Every time she crossed a line, every time she pushed my boundaries like they were elastic, every time she’d ask with a sly smile, “You won’t get mad, right?” I always gave in, not because I had no temper, but because I loved her. But now I knew that in her eyes, my patience wasn’t tolerance—it was proof that my boundaries could be endlessly retreated. She took my goodness towards her as proof that I couldn’t live without her. Just as I was about to turn and leave, someone patted my shoulder from behind. “Ethan, why aren’t you going in?” Leo Miller smiled at me. Before I could answer, he already pushed the door open. Everyone in the private room looked towards the entrance. Leah was sitting directly opposite the door, with an empty seat next to her. She saw me, paused for a moment, then quickly composed herself, even offering a small smile. Chloe was the first to react, standing up and waving me over: “Ethan’s here? Come in, come in, we were just waiting for you guys.” Leo half-pushed, half-coaxed me into the room. Chloe grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the empty seat next to Leah. I didn’t sit, saying I’d just stand for a bit. Chloe wouldn’t have it, telling me to listen to her and firmly pressing me down into the chair. Leah looked up at me and softly said, “You’re here?” Her tone was natural, as if nothing had happened. On her wrist, the Givenchy bracelet was back. The platinum chain shimmered slightly under the lights, the dark green enamel pendant resting against her slender wrist bone. But right next to the bracelet, there was a faint indentation, left by that cheap beaded string. Two marks pressed together, one new, one old. I said nothing, lowering my head to eat. I mechanically chewed my food, swallowed. The table was lively. Chloe bustled around pouring drinks, someone cut the cake, and others cheered, urging the birthday girl to make a wish. Leah was chatting with Leo, her laughter echoing intermittently. I didn’t look at them, didn’t speak.

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The spotlight at the concert’s song request segment danced between me and my boyfriend, Ethan, then settled right on me. I clutched the diamond ring in my pocket. It was the signal I’d pre-arranged with the organizers. During the request segment, I was going to propose to Ethan. I held the mic, looking at Ethan beside me. Just as I was about to speak, he snatched the mic right out of my hand. Then, he turned and handed it to Ashley, his assistant, who was sitting beside him. “This is Ashley’s first concert, Keira. Why don’t you let her have the song request?” Before I could agree, Ashley had already picked a love song. Ethan started applauding. I forced a bitter smile. Ethan didn’t know this was the last chance I was giving us. I’d planned it all out: if the proposal failed, I’d leave this city. The singer on stage paused for a few seconds, awkwardly cleared their throat, and started warming up the crowd again. My best friend, Louise, was already fuming. “What’s wrong with Ethan? Last time you guys went to see the New Year’s fireworks, he brought Ashley. Your birthday party? Ashley was there. And now the concert?” Louise stopped mid-sentence. “Keira, I didn’t mean it like that… don’t take it the wrong way.” I gave a weak laugh. She wasn’t wrong. Ethan really did bring that assistant, Ashley, everywhere, always claiming it was “to handle work stuff whenever needed.” Louise lowered her voice: “Everyone’s already at the restaurant, the balloons are all set up. And then Ethan pulls a stunt like this, it’s driving me crazy!” She paused, “So, are we still waiting for him?” I forced a smile. “Louise, no need to wait.” My fingertips touched the diamond ring box in my pocket, pressing painfully against my skin. One carat. I’d spent ages choosing the style. Back then, while Ethan was napping, I’d wrapped a string around his ring finger three times, then took it to the jeweler to get the size right. For today, I’d contacted the concert organizers two months in advance and recorded a three-minute video. Eight years of memories, all our friends recording heartfelt messages. The very last frame was me, looking into the camera, saying those words. I’d recorded it seventeen times, just to get one where my smile wasn’t shaky. Ashley’s chosen song ended, and applause erupted, mixed with enthusiastic whistles. It seemed everyone assumed she and Ethan were a couple. Ethan turned to glance at me, as if just noticing I wasn’t clapping. “What’s wrong?” I said it was nothing. When the concert ended, the crowd surged out. He walked beside me, naturally reaching out to cup my shoulder, shielding me from the crush of people. “Still sulking? Is it really that big a deal, just a song request?” He looked down at his phone, texting, his tone casual. “I’ll book a private venue for you sometime. You can pick as many songs as you want.” “Sometime,” “next time,” “later.” His three go-to excuses. “Ethan.” I stopped. He didn’t, walking a couple more steps before turning back. “We agreed. Eight years, you’d give me a commitment. It’s been eight years now.” He stuffed his phone back into his pocket, glanced at me, and smiled. That familiar “here we go again” smirk. “What’s the rush? I’m juggling a bunch of projects right now. Once the new year settles, I’ll properly plan our wedding.” New year, another postponement. He’d said the same thing three years ago. That was the first time I’d brought him home to meet my parents. The plane tickets were already booked. The day before we were supposed to leave, his secretary said there was an urgent bid they had to rush. He canceled the tickets. Back then, he’d said, “What’s the rush? Meeting your parents is bound to happen sooner or later.” I flew alone, carrying two thoughtful presents. My mom asked where he was, and I just smiled, saying he had an urgent business trip. The car pulled into the driveway and stopped. He turned, his thumb gently brushing my earlobe. The touch was light. “I’ll buy you that bracelet you liked tomorrow, as an apology. How about it?” I tilted my head, avoiding his hand. He froze. “Ethan, stop trying to smooth things over. I don’t need it anymore.” Ethan raised an eyebrow, hitting the steering wheel. “Alright, you’re upset again. Go get some sleep, you’ll feel better tomorrow.” He then glanced at his phone, muttering to himself, “Ashley says she left something at the concert, I’ll go back and help her find it.” I calmly nodded. “Okay.” I got out of the car. Closed the door. He stared at me from the driver’s seat for two seconds, seemingly sensing something was off. But then his taillights flashed, and he drove out of the neighborhood.

I went upstairs alone. Walking into the living room, his jacket was draped over the back of the sofa, the faint scent of cedarwood still clinging to the collar. The sliding door to the balcony was half open. A line of words was carved into the railing. He’d used his keys to carve it the day we moved in, crooked and messy, even scraping a small strip of paint off the railing. “Keira, one day I’m going to marry you.” Back then, he’d just secured his first round of funding, full of youthful vigor, and had spun me around in the empty living room. “Once I build my career, I’ll give you the most magnificent wedding.” I believed him. And waited eight years. The first year, he said the company was just starting, wait a little longer. The third year, he said they were in an expansion phase, he couldn’t get away. The fifth year, he said it would be soon, definitely next year. The eighth year. I stood on the balcony, my fingertips tracing the carved words. The peeled paint had already developed a thin layer of rust. The ring box in my pocket was hurting me so much. I took it out and opened it. The one-carat diamond shimmered in the faint light filtering in from the living room. I couldn’t wait for him to propose, I thought. So, I would. I’d spent three months preparing, mustering all my courage. Contacting the organizers, recording the video, ordering the ring, troubling Louise and our friends to decorate the celebration restaurant. And all I got to do was touch the mic. The lock clicked. I quickly put the ring back. Ethan walked in, tossing his car keys onto the shoe cabinet. He raised an eyebrow when he saw me staring at the carving on the balcony. “What’s so interesting? Come on, let’s go to bed.” I didn’t move, just asked him, “Did you find Ashley’s thing?” “Yeah.” He walked past me, starting to unfasten his watch. “Ethan,” I called him. “Let’s break up.” His movements stopped for a beat, then he let out a scoffing laugh. “You’re going to get like this over a song request at a concert?” “It was her first time seeing a live show, what’s wrong with letting her have it?” “Am I not allowed to have any other women around me besides you?” His tone was helpless. “Alright, I already said I’d book a private venue for you next time. Go to sleep, I have to meet investors tomorrow.” With that, he continued towards the master bedroom. I watched his retreating figure and spoke calmly: “There’s a party at the Walsh family home next week. Something will be announced publicly.” “After that announcement, we’re done.” Ethan stopped, turned around, and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Keira, let me be clear.” His tone switched from nonchalant to cold. “I won’t fall for your family trying to pressure me into marriage.” “Are you that desperate to get married?” “What do you mean ‘we’re done’? Are you threatening me? Or playing hard to get?” I didn’t reply. He didn’t know this party had nothing to do with him. The Walsh family was announcing that I was giving up my heir apparent status to join an eight-year national-level confidential project. From then on, I would live under an assumed name, never appearing in public. The party was the Walsh family’s official statement to the world. To let everyone know that Keira, as a person, was no longer to be watched or her whereabouts questioned. But he, of course, assumed I would always revolve around him. His temper flared, his voice dropping, which made it more intimidating than a shout. “What crazy ideas have your friends put in your head now? Does it have to be this year? Right now? Do you have any idea how busy I am?”

Busy, he certainly was. Too busy having 40-minute “work FaceTimes” with Ashley late at night. Too busy remembering Ashley’s coffee order, but he’d forgotten I was allergic to shrimp. Too busy having a balloon wall set up for Ashley’s birthday, and posting “Happy Birthday to our team’s youngest!” on Ins. His time, his thoughts, his attentiveness – they all had a destination. It just wasn’t me. “I’m in the final stretch of a project right now, I have three sets of investors to meet by the end of the year, and I can’t afford any missteps.” He rubbed his temples. “Why are you pulling all this now? What exactly do you want?” “Just calm down and think about what you’re doing.” He threw out his words and turned to leave. “Ethan.” He stopped. “Yes, I am playing hard to get.” I looked at his back. “So, will you marry me?” Ethan didn’t turn around. He was silent for a few seconds. “Get some good rest.” He walked into his study and closed the door. A layer of bitterness spread in my heart. Even though I knew the answer, I still asked the question. Perhaps, after eight years of my youth, I still couldn’t completely let go. But this was the last time. Late at night, I sat on the edge of the master bedroom bed and pulled open the nightstand drawer. A stack of papers lay quietly inside, their edges yellowed and curled. Two years ago, I’d printed them out, screenshot by screenshot, from online wedding inspiration boards: venues, floral arrangements, invitation fonts, vow templates. That day, I’d excitedly brought them to show him. He was on the phone, mouthed “I’ll look later,” and waved his hand at me. Two years had passed, and that “later” never came. My phone vibrated. Louise’s voice was still indignant: “They’ve taken down all the restaurant decorations. Keira, the concert thing, the more I think about it, the angrier I get. You prepared for three months, and he just… ” “Louise, it’s fine. I’m leaving anyway.” The other end was silent for a long time. “Are you sure? Eight years of feelings, and another eight years if you go. When you come back… everything will be different.” “Yes.” “You’re not even going to explain it to him?” “Louise, there’s nothing left for me to say to him.” Louise didn’t speak again. After a while, her voice grew thick with emotion. “I’ll keep the restaurant banner then, just in case… ” “Louise.” “Hmm.” “Throw it away.” Day four of the silent treatment. Ethan left early and came home late every day, heading straight for his study. Occasionally, we’d bump into each other in the living room; he’d look at his phone, I’d watch TV, neither of us saying a word. Under the same roof, we were like two estranged roommates. Louise, seeing I was in low spirits, dragged me out for dinner. “Don’t wallow. I booked a private room, you can cry or curse all you want.” We arrived and sat down. Before the food even came, laughter drifted from the next private room. It sounded very familiar. Louise’s face changed. “Maybe we should switch… ” I shook my head. Ashley’s soft voice came through. “Ethan, I still feel terrible about the concert. The mic was for Keira, and I was so thoughtless.” “Maybe I should apologize to Keira myself?” “What does it have to do with you?” Ethan’s voice was flat. “I gave it to you, you just took it.” He’d defended her in front of an entire table of people. Yet, when I used to visit his company, he would always deliberately keep his distance, saying there was “too much gossip.” One friend curiously pressed, “But Ethan, I heard Keira had something planned that night?” A brief silence. “I knew she was going to propose. Someone tipped me off over a month ago.” Ethan’s voice was still nonchalant. Louise looked up at me sharply. I clenched my fists.

“You knew, and you still gave the mic to Ashley?” The friend was clearly surprised. “What else was I supposed to do? The more she tries to corner me into making a statement like that, the more I refuse to let her get her way.” “Usually, when she throws a fit, I’ll humor her. But with something like marriage, I need her to learn that throwing a fit won’t always get her what she wants.” The friend sighed. “But seriously, Keira’s been with you for eight years, it’s understandable she’d be eager for a title.” Ethan was silent for a few seconds. “Of course I’ll marry her, but not because she’s forcing me.” “When I marry her is up to me.” Another friend lowered their voice. “Honestly, Ethan, Keira just loves to make a scene. She always has to go for a big spectacle, making things difficult for you.” “Exactly. Ashley is so much more sensible and hassle-free, she never gives you any trouble.” Ashley spoke up, her voice a little coy. “Oh, don’t say that about Keira… maybe she just loves Ethan too much.” “After all these years, she’s not getting any younger.” That last sentence, “after all these years,” carried just the right amount of pity in her tone. Ethan said nothing, and a shared laugh of understanding rippled through the room. Louise’s hand reached over and tightly gripped mine. Her fingertips were trembling. I patted her hand, picked up my bag, and stood up. “Louise, let’s go.” I pushed open our private room door and walked past theirs. The sound of clinking glasses and Ashley’s sweet laughter drifted out. It was drizzling outside. The streetlights flickered on, one after another, illuminating a long, wet road. I walked forward, not looking back. The invitation to the Walsh family banquet arrived in Ethan’s hands. The wording was formal: “The Walsh family cordially invites you to an important family announcement.” He flipped the invitation over, flicking it. “Important family announcement.” Ha. The Walsh family had some connections in the circle, hosting a respectable banquet to publicly announce their daughter’s engagement, forcing him to compromise in front of everyone. Keira wouldn’t do something like this, but her best friends and Keira’s parents might. Ethan carelessly set the invitation aside and opened his phone. Five days. Keira hadn’t sent him a single message. In past arguments, she’d usually find an excuse to contact him by the third day, asking if he’d eaten or if his jacket had been dry-cleaned. This time, nothing. An inexplicable irritation welled up in his chest, but he forcefully suppressed it. He wasn’t worried. She could throw her fit. She was always the one to back down in the end, wasn’t she? His friends discussed in their SnapChat group: “Ethan, are you, the groom-to-be, going to the Walsh family engagement party? Lots of people have received invitations, it’s quite the affair.” He scoffed, typing, “Yeah, I’ll go. Just a little late. Let her feel what it’s like to be waiting anxiously.” He imagined Keira waiting for him at the banquet, repeatedly looking at the door, trying to maintain her composure under the gaze of friends and family. He even felt a hidden sense of satisfaction. She needed to learn a lesson. After all this fuss, he’d still be the one to sort things out. On the day of the banquet, he didn’t rush out. First, he got a haircut and changed into a dark gray casual suit. Not formal attire, he wanted everyone to see that he was “just dropping by,” not part of their plan. Messages from his friends started coming in rapidly. “Ethan, the Walsh family’s setup is huge! Two rows of cars parked outside, flower arrangements everywhere.” “Keira is all made up today, absolutely beautiful.” Another added, “Keira’s looking… Ethan, if you don’t show up soon, I’m afraid someone might steal your wife!” The group chat exploded with laughter. He looked at the messages, a corner of his mouth twitching unconsciously. In his suit pocket was the invitation. He’d picked it up after reading it, not even realizing he’d carried it with him. A friend urged again, “Ethan, are you coming or not? Things are starting here, Keira’s parents are on stage!” He slowly started his car and replied with a voice message: “What’s the rush? What’s the point of starting if I’m not there?” His car had just pulled out of the parking lot. Another friend called, his voice clearly puzzled: “Ethan… the Walsh family party doesn’t seem to be an engagement. It’s a farewell party.”

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I made ninety-nine calls. My brother, Caleb Reed, lay in the emergency room. He had a rare blood type, and only my husband, Nathaniel Thorne’s, private medical facility’s blood bank had a matching supply. Every call went unanswered. Finally, his phone went straight to voicemail. At 3 AM, Caleb stopped breathing. I knelt in the hallway, my hands still stained with his blood, when my phone screen lit up—Nate Thorne’s assistant had sent me a photo. In the picture, Nate was embracing his assistant, kissing her hair, with a fervor in his eyes I’d never seen in our three years of marriage. Her name was Sophia Smith. She was his first love, the student he’d funded for ten years, “the only woman he ever wanted to marry” in his diary. And I? I was just a stand-in who resembled her, a free, top-tier private physician, used to prolong Sophia’s life. The next day, he rushed back, apologizing while holding me: “Evelyn, my phone fell in the water, I didn’t see your calls.” I didn’t make a scene. I just smiled and handed him two documents. He signed them without even looking. He didn’t know they were divorce papers.

Evelyn Reed POV I had just finished a surgery. I peeled off my gloves, wearily rubbing my temples. As the youngest Associate Director of Urology at a top New York hospital, I was long accustomed to high-intensity work. The moment I pushed open my office door, a jacket with a familiar perfume scent was draped over my shoulders. Nate Thorne stood behind me, holding a lunchbox, his eyes so tender they could drown you: “Evelyn, did the surgery go well? Did you skip lunch again?” For three years, Nate had doted on me, making me the envy of every socialite in New York. He would cancel transnational meetings to be with me when I worked night shifts. If I casually mentioned “wanting to see the ocean,” he’d charter a private jet that very night to take me to Los Angeles. He respected my profession, even donating an entire urology research center in my name. Aside from the fact that during intimacy he always preferred to hold me tightly from behind, insistently demanding I repeat his name and never close my eyes, he was almost a perfect husband. I once believed I was the luckiest woman in the world. Until three days ago, when my younger brother, Caleb, suffered acute renal failure complicated by cardiac arrest. That day, New York was hit by a rare torrential downpour. I knelt outside the emergency room, my hands covered in Caleb’s blood, trembling as I dialed Nate’s number. Caleb had a rare blood type, and only Nate’s private medical facility’s blood bank had a matching supply. I made ninety-nine calls. Every single one was cut off. Finally, his phone went straight to voicemail. Caleb stopped breathing at 3 AM. I didn’t even have the strength to cry, sitting stiffly outside the door like a shell drained of its soul. My phone screen lit up. It was a photo from Nate’s personal assistant. Perhaps an accident, perhaps intentional. In the picture, the streets of San Francisco were bathed in bright sunshine. Nate had shed his suit, wearing a casual white shirt, tightly embracing a woman in a white dress. Her face was buried in his chest, and Nate, head bowed, was kissing her hair. The fervor in his eyes, the relief of having something lost finally found, was something I’d never witnessed in our three years together. The woman’s name was Sophia Smith. She was Nate’s first love, and the student he had funded for ten years. The cold draft in the hallway chilled my thin dress to the bone. I repeatedly zoomed in on the photo, meticulously examining every detail, suddenly feeling a wave of nausea. I leaned against the wall, dry-heaving. So that was it. He wasn’t busy. He was simply with the woman he truly loved. Nate returned to New York the day after Caleb’s funeral. He pushed open the front door and saw me sitting on the sofa, noticeably thinner, with sunken eyes. I saw a flicker of panic in Nate’s eyes. He hurried over, pulling me into his embrace, his voice thick with self-reproach: “Evelyn, I’m so sorry. There was an emergency at the San Francisco branch; I flew over immediately. My phone fell in the water and broke. I couldn’t be with you for Caleb’s funeral, and it’s all my fault.” He kissed my forehead, his tone humble: “You can hit me, yell at me, whatever you want, any compensation, I’ll give it to you.” I didn’t struggle, letting him hold me. My face rested against his expensive shirt, and I caught a faint scent of rose perfume that wasn’t mine. It was Sophia’s favorite scent. It felt like a piece had been brutally gouged from my heart, a pain so profound it left me numb. I calmly pushed him away, took two documents from my bag, flipped to the last page, and handed him a pen. “Nate, I just need you to sign these two documents.” Nate exhaled in relief. Without even glancing at them, he signed his name on both papers. “Evelyn, what’s mine is yours. Forget signing; I’d give you my life.” He smiled, touching my stomach. “You’ve been throwing up a lot lately. Are you having stomach issues? I’ll take you to the hospital for a check-up tomorrow.” I looked at the signed documents, my eyes devoid of all emotion. “No need,” I stood up, my voice as light as a whisper, “I’ll go by myself.”

Evelyn Reed POV The next morning, I went to the hospital alone. Not to my urology department, but to obstetrics and gynecology. On the ultrasound report, a tiny gestational sac was securely implanted. Four weeks. This was Nate’s and my child. For three years of marriage, Nate had been meticulous about birth control. He said he couldn’t bear for me to suffer through childbirth, wanting a few more years of just the two of us. This unexpected pregnancy was because of his birthday a month ago; he’d gotten drunk and uncontrollably made love to me all night. I sat on a bench in the hospital corridor, holding the report, my hand gently resting on my flat abdomen. If Caleb were still alive, if I hadn’t seen that photo, I would probably be excitedly throwing myself into Nate’s arms right now, telling him the good news. But now, I only felt a bitter irony. My phone vibrated. It was Nate calling. “Evelyn, are your tests done? I’ll come pick you up.” His voice was still gentle. Before I could speak, a delicate female voice suddenly came from the other end: “Nate, I can’t find my medicine…” Nate’s breathing hitched, and he immediately covered the mouthpiece, but I still caught his hushed cooing: “Don’t worry, it’s in the second drawer on the left. I’ll be right there.” When he spoke to me again, his tone held a hint of urgency: “Evelyn, there’s an emergency company meeting. Can you go home by yourself? Be careful.” “Okay.” I hung up abruptly. I didn’t go home. Instead, I went to Nate’s private apartment downtown. It was Nate’s forbidden territory, cleaned only by trusted hourly workers. I had never interfered with his privacy before, but today, I used a spare key Nate had casually left in his car to open that door. The apartment was spotless, arranged warmly and full of a lived-in feel. I pushed open the bedroom door, and my whole body froze. The walls were covered with photos of Nate and Sophia. From high school to college, from innocent to mature. In every photo, Nate’s smile was so unrestrained, a vivacity I had never seen in him. The dresser was laden with Sophia’s favorite rose perfumes; the closet held custom-made dresses in Sophia’s size. My hands trembling, I pulled open the nightstand drawer. Inside lay a thick diary and a stack of medical records. The name on the medical records was Sophia Smith. Diagnosis: Congenital renal insufficiency. My breath caught in my throat. As a urologist, I was all too familiar with this condition. I opened the diary, Nate’s handwriting stinging my eyes. “Sophia got married and moved to San Francisco with that man. She said she didn’t want to burden me. How could I ever resent her?” “I met a woman named Evelyn Reed. She wore a white coat, and in some ways, she resembled Sophia. More importantly, she was the best urologist in New York.” “I married Evelyn Reed. I funded a research center for her, established a dedicated fund. As long as her team could achieve this medical breakthrough, Sophia would be saved.” “Every day, I hold Evelyn Reed, closing my eyes and imagining the person in my arms is Sophia. Only then can I endure the nights without Sophia.” The last page of the diary was dated three days ago. “Sophia got divorced, and her illness flared up. I flew to San Francisco to pick her up. I just need her to be alive.” *Smack!* The diary fell to the floor. I covered my mouth, gasping for air, tears scalding as they hit my hand. So that was it. No wonder he always held me from behind. No wonder he poured money into my research. No wonder he never let me into his private circle. I wasn’t a wife; I was just a free, top-tier private physician who resembled his first love. I wasn’t even a stand-in; I was just a tool he meticulously cultivated to save Sophia! I laughed, my body shaking, tears streaming down my face. I stood up, stumbling down the stairs, preparing to leave. Suddenly, my foot slipped, and I tumbled headfirst down the stairs, hitting each step with brutal force. The moment my body slammed against the steps, a tearing pain erupted in my abdomen. With my years of medical experience, I instantly realized my baby might be in danger. Panic flooded my heart. I clenched my teeth against the dull pain throughout my body, pulled out my phone, and dialed 911. My consciousness began to fade amidst waves of agonizing pain.

Evelyn Reed POV After being rushed to the hospital, I was immediately pushed into the emergency room. Doctors quickly began resuscitation and hemorrhage control. Cold examination instruments probed my body, each touch pulling at the searing pain. I bit my lip, feeling the dull ache of life draining from within me. As a doctor, I’d seen countless deaths, but when the knife cut into my own flesh, that tearing sensation almost ripped me apart. After a long and grueling rescue, the devastating news finally came: the baby couldn’t be saved. Half an hour later, supported by a colleague, I walked out of the emergency treatment room, my face pale. I refused my colleague’s help and went home alone. The empty mansion was cold as an icebox. I swallowed two painkillers, forced myself to drag a suitcase from the storage room. I packed up all the jewelry and custom-made dresses Nate had bought me, contacted a luxury consignment shop, and sold them off that very night. Looking at the suddenly empty walk-in closet, I felt like I could breathe easier. At ten o’clock that night, Nate returned. He brought in the cold air with him, holding a cake from my favorite restaurant. “Evelyn, I’m home. The meeting ran late today; you must be starving, right?” He changed his shoes, intending to embrace me. I turned away, my gaze falling on the faint smudge of lipstick on his shirt collar. “I’m not hungry.” My voice was flat, without a hint of emotion. Nate paused, seemingly noticing my coolness. He put down the cake, walked over, and forcibly took my hand, his brows furrowed: “Why are your hands so cold? And you look so pale. Are you sick?” “No,” I pulled my hand away, “Just a little tired.” Nate sighed, his eyes full of helpless affection: “Are you still mad at me for not making it back for Caleb’s funeral? Evelyn, don’t be difficult. The dead can’t be brought back. You still have me. It’s the weekend tomorrow, I’ll take you out to clear your head, okay?” He was always like this, using the gentlest tone to say the cruelest things. Caleb was dead, and in his mouth, it was just “the dead can’t be brought back.” I looked at his handsome face, suddenly feeling utterly estranged. “Nate,” I called his name, “Tomorrow night, the department has a get-together. I won’t be home.” A flicker of guilt crossed Nate’s eyes, but he quickly concealed it: “Okay, don’t drink too much, and come home early.” He especially wanted me not to be home, so he could go be with Sophia. The next evening, I didn’t go to the department dinner. I put on elegant makeup to conceal my post-miscarriage pallor and went to a Michelin-starred restaurant. This was the address Nate’s assistant had inadvertently revealed over the phone. I pushed open the slightly ajar private room door and, through the gap, coldly watched the scene inside. Nate had taken off his suit jacket and was patiently peeling a shrimp. He dipped the peeled shrimp into a sauce and naturally fed it to the woman beside him. Sophia, in a white knit sweater, looked pale, exuding a sickly fragility. She took the shrimp from Nate’s hand, her eyes slightly red: “Nate, am I just a burden? I’m divorced, and now I’m sick. I can only come back to you…” “Don’t talk nonsense.” Nate’s voice was dripping with tenderness, laced with undisguised heartache. “Your return makes me happier than anyone. I’ll find a way to treat your illness. New York has the best urology specialists; I’ll make sure she cures you.” “But you’re married,” Sophia bit her lip, tears threatening to fall, “Won’t Evelyn be angry if she knows about me?” Nate scoffed, his tone chillingly indifferent: “She doesn’t need to know. She’s just a doctor. She took my money, so she should do her job well. Once your illness is cured, I’ll give her a sum of money and send her away.” Outside the door, I clutched the doorknob, my nails almost digging into my flesh. Though I had long guessed the truth, hearing him say those words shattered my heart like a sledgehammer, making every breath taste of blood. “Give her money and send her away?” I silently repeated the phrase to myself. Nate, you think you control everything, but you don’t know, I stopped wanting you a long time ago. I didn’t storm in to confront him. I took out my phone and snapped a photo of their intimate backs in the private room. Then, I turned and walked into the night. Soon. Just twenty more days, and I would leave him. Then, I would give him a big surprise.

Evelyn Reed POV My body was severely weakened after the miscarriage. After performing two surgeries back-to-back at the hospital, I almost fainted at the washbasin. The head nurse lovingly held me: “Dr. Reed, you’ve looked so pale lately. Mr. Thorne cares about you so much, why doesn’t he get you some tonics to help you recover?” I forced a smile, saying nothing. Nate had been “very busy” lately. Busy finding a kidney donor for Sophia, busy accompanying her to dialysis, busy holding and comforting her when she cried in pain. He hadn’t been home for three consecutive days. Each time I called, his assistant answered, always with the same excuse: “Mr. Thorne is in a transnational video conference.” I changed out of my white coat and walked out of the hospital entrance. A black Maybach was parked by the roadside. Nate leaned against the car door, a cigarette between his fingers, looking somewhat fatigued. Seeing me, he immediately stubbed out the cigarette and quickly walked over, pulling me into his embrace. “Evelyn, you’re off work. Things have been too hectic at the company these past few days; I’ve neglected you.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead, the gesture as practiced as a ritual. I caught the strong scent of disinfectant on him. It wasn’t the smell of our hospital; it was the scent of Sophia’s private hospital. “It’s fine,” I said flatly, pushing him away. “Let’s go home.” The atmosphere in the car was heavy. Nate tried to strike up a conversation several times, but I deflected him each time. As we passed a newly opened restaurant, Nate suddenly slammed on the brakes. “This restaurant’s desserts are famous; I remember you used to love them. Shall we go down for a bite?” Nate looked at me, a hint of pleading in his eyes. I looked at the restaurant, feeling a wave of nausea. Sophia had posted its location on Ins. “I’m not hungry.” “Just a little bit. You’ve lost too much weight lately.” Nate unbuckled my seatbelt directly, half-forcing me out of the car. The restaurant’s lighting was dim, and the atmosphere intimate. Nate ordered a table full of dishes, all light and bland. He solicitously pushed the food towards me, as if returning to his role as the perfect husband. Just then, a waiter approached, carrying a fresh pot of hot soup. Perhaps the floor was slippery; the waiter tripped, and the entire pot of scalding soup splashed directly towards Nate and me. “Watch out!” In a split second, Nate sprang to his feet. I thought he would protect himself as he always had. But Nate’s body instinctively lunged to the left—where Sophia, who had just returned from the restroom, was standing. Nate shielded Sophia tightly in his arms, his back to me. “Splash!” Most of the scalding soup landed on my lower leg. “Ah!” I gasped in pain, collapsing back into my chair. Through the thin fabric of my pants, my skin instantly turned bright red, blistering in large patches. The piercing pain made me break out in a cold sweat. Meanwhile, Nate was anxiously cradling Sophia’s face, examining her up and down: “Sophia, did you get burned? Are you uncomfortable anywhere?” Sophia had only a few drops of soup on her skirt, but she was visibly shaken, her face pale, clinging to Nate’s sleeve, trembling: “Nate, I’m scared…” “Don’t be scared, I’m here.” Nate cooed softly, his eyes filled with urgency. The waiter repeatedly apologized, bringing ice and towels. I gritted my teeth, rolling up my pant leg myself. The shocking redness and blisters alarmed the people around us. Only then did Nate suddenly snap back to reality. He turned, saw my lower leg, and his pupils constricted. “Evelyn!” He released Sophia, intending to check my injuries. “Don’t touch me!” I violently swatted his hand away, my eyes as cold as ice. Nate’s hand froze in mid-air, his face grim. He looked at the trembling Sophia, then at me, drenched in cold sweat, and gritted his teeth: “Evelyn, just put some ice on it for now. I need to take Sophia to the hospital first; she’s not well and can’t handle shocks. I’ll be right back to pick you up!” With that, he unhesitatingly scooped Sophia into his arms and strode out of the restaurant. I sat there, watching their retreating backs, and suddenly let out a low laugh. I laughed until tears streamed down my face. The pain in my leg was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. I was a doctor; I knew perfectly well that Sophia hadn’t been hurt at all. I had suffered second-degree burns. But in Nate’s eyes, a single strand of Sophia’s hair was more important than my life. I didn’t wait for Nate to return. I took a cab to the hospital myself, saw to my own treatment, cleaned the wound myself, and endured the excruciating pain of having the blisters clipped. I didn’t take any anesthetic. I wanted to remember this pain. Remember the pain Nate had given me.

Evelyn Reed POV I was admitted to the hospital’s burn unit. The burn on my leg was extensive, and coupled with my weakened state after the miscarriage, I developed a high fever. In a daze, I felt someone wiping my forehead with a warm towel. The touch was light, carrying a cautious, almost pleading, gentleness. I opened my eyes and saw Nate’s bloodshot eyes. “Evelyn, you’re awake?” Nate’s voice was hoarse, his hand shaking slightly as he held mine. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know your burn was so severe. After I took Sophia to the hospital yesterday, I came back for you, but you were already gone…” I looked at him coldly, as if at a stranger. “Is Sophia okay?” I suddenly asked, my voice hoarse. Nate paused, seemingly unprepared for my question, and his eyes darted away: “She’s fine, just a little shaken.” “Is that so?” I forced a smile, a trace of mockery in my voice. “Being shaken requires you to stay with her all night? Nate, you truly disgust me.” Nate’s face instantly turned ashen. He abruptly stood up, trying to explain: “Evelyn, listen to me. Sophia has a severe kidney condition; she can’t handle any stress. It was just an instinctive reaction at the time…” “Instinctive reaction?” I cut him off, my gaze as sharp as a knife. “Your instinct was to abandon your wife, scalded by hot soup, to embrace a woman who was completely unharmed. Nate, don’t use her illness as an excuse; you simply don’t love me.” “No, that’s not it!” Nate desperately refuted, taking a step forward to embrace me. “I love you, Evelyn, I truly do. Sophia is just like my sister; my care for her is purely out of responsibility…” “Enough!” I violently swatted his hand away, pointing towards the door. “Get out. I don’t want to see you.” Nate stood frozen, his face ashen. “Okay, I’ll go out. You get some rest; I’ll come back later to see you.” Nate conceded, turning and walking out of the ward. The moment the door closed, I shut my eyes, a single cold tear tracing a path down my cheek. For the next few days, Nate stayed by my side in the hospital like a madman. He canceled all his work, personally feeding me, wiping me down, and changing my dressings. He humbled himself to dust, trying to atone for his mistakes in this way. But I remained silent, treating him as if he were invisible. On the fifth day, the ward door opened, and Sophia walked in. She wore a patient gown, her face pale, carrying a fruit basket, looking utterly pathetic. “Dr. Reed, I’m so sorry.” Sophia walked to the bedside, her eyes red. “It’s all because of me that you got such serious injuries. Nate has been taking care of you these past few days; he feels terrible. Please don’t be mad at him, okay?” I leaned against the headboard, coldly watching her performance. “Sophia, your acting is quite good,” I said, my voice flat. “It’s a shame you’re not an actress.” Sophia’s face stiffened, then she bit her lower lip, tears falling: “Dr. Reed, I know you hate me. But Nate and I really have nothing going on; we’re just like siblings who grew up together. Please don’t let me ruin your marriage.” “Siblings?” I scoffed. “Do siblings plaster each other’s photos all over their bedroom? Do siblings fill their diaries with declarations of love for each other?” Sophia’s face instantly turned deathly pale. She looked at me in disbelief, clearly not expecting me to know so much. “You snooped in Nate’s diary?” “That’s my husband’s home. Why shouldn’t I look?” I looked at her, my eyes disdainful. “Sophia, you’re truly pathetic. You think Nate loves you? If he truly loved you, why didn’t he marry you back then? He married me, using my professional expertise to save your life. In his eyes, you’re nothing more than a beggar in need of charity.” This remark struck Sophia’s sore spot with precision. She lunged forward, grabbing my wrist, her voice sharp: “You’re lying! Nate loves me! You’re just a stand-in!” My leg injury hadn’t healed. Her sudden tug made me gasp in pain. I forcefully shook Sophia’s hand off: “Get away from me!” Sophia, seizing the opportunity, stumbled backward and fell heavily to the floor, letting out a cry of pain. “Sophia!” The ward door was violently flung open, and Nate rushed in. Seeing Sophia on the floor, he scooped her into his arms. “Nate, I’m in so much pain…” Sophia clutched her stomach, cold sweat beading on her forehead. Nate’s head snapped up, his gaze fixed on me, filled with anger and disgust: “Evelyn Reed, are you insane? She’s a patient! If anything happens to her kidney, I swear I won’t let you off!” I looked at his murderous expression, and my heart died completely. “Fine,” I said to him coldly. “Nate, I’ll be waiting.”

Evelyn Reed POV Sophia was rushed to the emergency room. The look Nate gave me before he left was as if he were looking at an enemy. Silence returned to the ward. I sat quietly on the hospital bed, watching the yellowed leaves outside the window being carried away by the autumn wind, feeling an unusual sense of peace. No anger, no grievance, only a kind of liberation. Two hours later, Nate’s assistant pushed open the ward door. He looked at me with a complicated expression and handed me a document. “Mrs. Thorne, Mr. Thorne said… Miss Smith’s condition has worsened, and she urgently needs a kidney donor. Your blood type and various indicators are a high match with Miss Smith’s. Mr. Thorne hopes you can… donate a kidney to Miss Smith.” The assistant’s voice grew softer and softer, almost inaudible by the end. I looked at the “Organ Donation Consent Form” and suddenly laughed out loud. My laughter echoed in the empty ward, tinged with boundless desolation and mockery. “He wants me to donate a kidney?” I pointed to myself, tears streaming down my face from laughter. “Does he know I just had a miscarriage? Does he know my leg burns haven’t healed? He wants me to save his mistress?” The assistant lowered his head, not daring to meet my eyes: “Mr. Thorne said that if you agree, he is willing to transfer thirty percent of the company’s shares to you and guarantees that he will never have any inappropriate contact with Miss Smith again.” “No more contact?” I scoffed as if I’d heard the biggest joke. “He means he wants to trade my life for Sophia’s!” I grabbed the consent form and, in front of the assistant, tore it into shreds. “Go back and tell Nate that if he wants my kidney, it will be over my dead body.” The assistant sighed and silently backed out. That same night, Nate came. He looked utterly exhausted, with a five o’clock shadow on his jaw. He walked to the bedside, looking down at me, his tone carrying an unquestionable command. “Evelyn Reed, Sophia can’t wait. You can live with one less kidney, but she’ll die without it.” I looked into his eyes, as if at a monster. “Nate, do you think that because I loved you, I deserve to be trampled on?” My voice was soft, but full of disappointment in him. “When my brother died, you were with her. When I was pregnant and you drove me to a miscarriage, you were with her. When I was scalded by hot soup, you were still with her. Now, you even want to take my kidney to save her?” Nate’s eyes flickered with a hint of panic, but it was quickly masked by cold ruthlessness: “Miscarriage? When were you pregnant? Why didn’t you tell me?” “What’s the use of telling you?” I sneered. “Evelyn Reed!” Nate roared, suddenly grabbing my shoulders. “Don’t be unreasonable! Sophia’s illness can’t be delayed! You’re a doctor, are you just going to let her die?” “I am a doctor, but I am not your tool!” I forcefully broke free from his grip, pointing to the door. “Get out! I never want to see you again in my life!” Nate stared at me, his eyes terrifyingly sinister. “Evelyn Reed, don’t be stubborn. In New York, I have ways to get you onto that operating table to donate a kidney.” He flung those words at me, then turned and strode away. I sat on the bed, trembling, my hands gripping the bedsheets tightly. I knew Nate’s words were real. He had money and power; if he truly went mad, I wouldn’t be able to resist. I had to leave. Immediately. I pulled out the IV needle from the back of my hand, gritting my teeth against the searing pain in my leg, and changed into my clothes. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number hidden at the very bottom of my contacts. “Ethan Miller, it’s me. Arrange for me to go to San Francisco. As soon as possible.” The other end was silent for two seconds, then a deep male voice replied: “Okay. See you at the hospital’s back entrance in half an hour.” After hanging up, I looked at the ward that had held me captive for seven days, turning to leave without a single trace of nostalgia. Nate Thorne, it’s completely over between us. I will never look back at you again.

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Everyone said I hit the jackpot. I was an orphan, yet the Vance family picked me out at a glance and took me in as their foster daughter. From then on, I was treated like royalty, just like Brittany Vance, the Vance family’s true eldest daughter. We had the same lavish lifestyle, the same upbringing, the same everything. After a big family dinner on a holiday evening, my adoptive mother, Eleanor Vance, smiled and presented a box, asking us to draw slips. “There are two slips here. One says ‘Study Abroad.’ If you draw it, you’ll go overseas for further education and eventually take over the family business.” “The other says ‘Stay Home.’ If you draw that, you’ll stay here with me.” Brittany was absolutely confident. As a Vance by blood, it was only natural for her to study abroad and inherit the family. And I, the foster daughter, was meant to be a convenient pawn, staying by her mother’s side, serving tea and water, keeping her amused. I thought so too. But to my surprise, I drew the “Study Abroad” slip. Brittany’s face instantly contorted, and she shrieked, insulting me. “Did you cheat?! Everything in the Vance family is mine! You illegitimate mongrel, who knows where you came from, how dare you even think of inheriting the family business?!” “Mom, are you really going to let an outsider steal my life?!” Normally, whenever Brittany threw a fit, Eleanor would compromise, giving her whatever she wanted, even my parents’ keepsakes. This time, however, Eleanor’s face was devoid of expression as she slapped the screaming Brittany hard across the face. “Rules are rules. Whoever draws it, gets it.” “From now on, the Vance family business will be inherited by Alice.”

Brittany clutched her face, staring at Eleanor in disbelief. “Mom! How could you hit me for *her*?! I’m your own daughter! What kind of spell has that little brat, who knows where she came from, cast on you?!” Eleanor seemed not to hear her cries, not even sparing her a glance. She simply turned to me, her voice calm as she instructed. “Alice, go get all your documents ready. I’ll take you to process the paperwork tomorrow.” Seeing that her crying and screaming had no effect, the hurt on Brittany’s face was replaced by venomous resentment. She spun around abruptly, glaring at me through gritted teeth. “Alice Vance, you just wait! You think you can steal what’s mine? No chance in hell!” She then shrieked at Eleanor again, attempting a final threat. “Mom! If you really give everything in the Vance family to this outsider today, I’ll… I’ll disown you! I’m leaving right now!” A flicker of heartache crossed Eleanor’s eyes, but she merely pressed her lips together, ultimately saying nothing to stop her. She didn’t even look at Brittany as she slammed the door and left. Eleanor just softened her voice when she spoke to me. “Alice, don’t take it too hard. I’ll talk to Brittany later.” I nodded obediently on the surface, but a sense of dread filled me. I knew Brittany’s personality better than anyone. In the past, without direct conflicts of interest, she enjoyed tormenting me. The bruises and scratches that appeared on me every other day were already commonplace. Now that I had snatched away the inheritance she considered her birthright, how could she possibly let it go? I took a deep breath, putting on a sensible facade, and walked towards Eleanor. “Mom, the Vance family has raised me for so many years. I’m already so grateful; I never dared to dream of inheriting anything.” “That study abroad spot, and the inheritance, rightfully belong to Brittany. Please, don’t let me ruin your mother-daughter relationship with Brittany.” Eleanor turned, her gaze lingering on my face for a moment, a complex emotion flashing in her eyes. She sighed, her tone, however, was firm. “Alice, you’re just too sensible. Brittany, she’s been spoiled by me. I know in my heart that you are the one truly suited to carry the Vance family’s legacy.” “Since destiny decreed that you draw the slip, this is your fate, and the Vance family’s fate. Accept it with peace of mind. I’ll handle everything else and won’t let Brittany mess things up.” Seeing her resolve, the words I was about to say died in my throat. I truly didn’t care about the Vance family’s vast wealth, but that study abroad spot was the only key to escaping my suffocating life. In the Vance household, I was ostensibly a glamorous foster daughter, but in reality, the hidden bullying and exclusion were harder to bear than in the orphanage. With this study abroad spot, I could leave the Vance family openly and legitimately. At most, I would just go along with Eleanor’s wishes for now, leave this place, and once the plane landed, I could find an opportunity to explain to her and give up the inheritance. It wouldn’t be too late. Thinking this, I lowered my eyes and meekly agreed. At Eleanor’s urging, I went back to my room to pack my essential documents. Just as I opened the drawer and took out my passport, my door was violently kicked open. Brittany stood in the doorway, her eyes bloodshot, but those eyes were fixated on the passport in my hand. “Alice Vance, are you actually planning to take my family’s money and go live it up overseas? Don’t you have any shame? Any decency? How can you feel so smug about stealing someone else’s things?!” As she spoke, she rushed over and snatched my passport.

I reached out to grab it back, but Brittany shoved me with even greater force. My back slammed against the wall, and I gasped in pain, sliding to the floor. She loomed over me, clutching the passport in her hand. “You want to steal my things to study abroad? Alice Vance, I’m telling you, dream on! You dirt-poor wretch, rotting in the mud, how dare you compete with me?!” To my horror, she tore the passport in half with both hands. I endured the pain and questioned her, my voice trembling. “Brittany Vance! Mom decided this herself! Aren’t you afraid Mom will be angry if you tear up the passport?!” Brittany casually tossed the torn passport pieces onto my face and sneered. “Angry? I’m her only biological daughter! No matter what I do, she’ll always side with me in the end! Didn’t she say nothing when I treated you like that before?!” Although I had suspected it for years, Eleanor probably wasn’t entirely unaware of Brittany’s bullying. Perhaps she simply thought an adopted child could serve as a useful punching bag for her biological daughter. But hearing her say it so bluntly still sent a chill down my spine. Tearing up the passport wasn’t enough for Brittany; she started rummaging through my room, determined to destroy all my documents. I didn’t want to lose this opportunity. Enduring the pain, I struggled to my feet and stood between her and the cabinet. “Get lost! You dare block me?!” Seeing my defiance, Brittany’s rage intensified. She raised her hand, ready to slap me across the face! “Stop that!” Eleanor’s sharp shout suddenly came from the doorway. My body instantly froze. Brittany’s action paused for only a moment, then she ignored Eleanor, not only failing to pull back but even escalating, slapping me hard to the ground. Eleanor stormed into the room, her eyes immediately falling on the pile of passport fragments on the floor. Her face darkened instantly. “Brittany, you’ve gone too far! I’ve made my decision on this, and I won’t change my mind, no matter how much you fuss!” She wasted no more words, directly calling the servants outside the door to take the still-raging Brittany back to her room. Quiet returned to the room, leaving only me, a displeased Eleanor, and the mess scattered across the floor. Eleanor’s gaze fell on me, her tone carrying a hint of dissatisfaction. “Alice, you’re going to lead the Vance family someday. How can you not even hold onto a passport?” “Forget it. I’ll have someone fast-track a replacement passport for you. Keep your other documents safe, and be ready to leave with me tomorrow, don’t mess this up.” I lowered my head, not offering any explanations, just quietly agreeing. Eleanor gave a few more instructions, telling me not to provoke Brittany further, and to be more yielding with her, before turning and leaving. I slowly knelt, tidying up the mess on the floor, silently counting down the days until my departure. Just a little longer, just a few more days, and I would be free. Before the appointed time, I locked myself in my room, doing my best to avoid any potential contact with Brittany. My door was locked, and even my meals were delivered directly to the entrance by the servants. However, the next day, at the agreed-upon time, as I tried to quietly leave the house, I found my door wouldn’t open. My heart sank. I twisted the doorknob harder, even tried to ram the door with my shoulder, but the lock didn’t budge. I pounded on the door, screaming for help. But the servants passing by outside seemed not to hear a thing.

I screamed until my voice was hoarse. Finally, a voice full of reluctance sounded from outside the door. “Miss Alice, please don’t shout, it’s no use…” It was Maria, the housekeeper who usually cleaned this floor. Her voice came through the door, tinged with fear. “It’s Miss Brittany’s strict order. She said anyone who dares to open your door will be fired immediately. We have no choice.” My last sliver of hope extinguished. I slid down the door to the floor, my body turning cold. The servants all knew perfectly well that Brittany was the rightful eldest daughter of this house, and I was merely a foster daughter who could lose favor at any moment. I watched the sky outside the window slowly dim. I stopped shouting, just sat with my knees hugged, my hope fading with time. Just then, Eleanor’s voice, full of suppressed anger, suddenly came from outside the door. “You’ve all gone mad! Who gave you the nerve to lock Alice in her room? I’m still alive and well in this house! Who are you to give orders?!” “Open that door immediately!” The door was quickly opened. Outside, several servants stood in a trembling line, heads bowed, not daring to breathe. Brittany, hearing the commotion, also burst out of her room, screaming at Eleanor. “Mom! What are you doing?! I just don’t want this mongrel to steal my things! Why are you helping her?!” Eleanor looked at her daughter’s hysterical state and said nothing more. She simply ordered James, the butler, standing nearby. “Take Miss Brittany back to her room and keep her there. She’s not allowed to step out until Alice and I return!” Brittany’s screams were cut off behind the door. Eleanor then turned to me, not saying much, and hurried me into the car. The atmosphere in the car was suffocatingly heavy during the drive. Eleanor kept staring out the window, her brow furrowed. I knew she was worried about Brittany; after all, this was the first time she had spoken such harsh words to her beloved daughter. Sure enough, not long after we arrived at the office, Eleanor’s phone rang. It was James, the butler. “Madam, it’s terrible! Please come back quickly! Miss Brittany, she’s… she’s threatening to jump! She’s sitting on the windowsill now, refusing to come down no matter who tries to persuade her!” Eleanor’s face instantly went pale. She abruptly stood up from her seat, grabbing her bag in a panic, not even sparing me a glance. She just hastily tossed out a single sentence. “Alice, you finish the rest of the paperwork yourself!” My heart sank heavily. Brittany had indeed resorted to the most extreme measure. I was afraid Eleanor would soften and compromise again under her daughter’s suicide threat, so I didn’t dare to delay for a moment. I rushed through all the procedures as quickly as possible. Even with the plane ticket and documents firmly in my hand, I felt a little dazed. Had it really gone through? Brittany hadn’t managed to sabotage everything at the last minute? It was almost too smooth, leaving me with a faint sense of unease. I took a deep breath and walked out of the office lobby. The next second, I froze in place. Right at the main entrance of the building, Brittany stood leisurely, a triumphant sneer replacing her earlier frantic expression. And behind her, five or six muscular men in black suits blocked all my escape routes. “Alice Vance, so eager to take what you stole and fly off? As expected, trash is trash. You steal things and act so righteous.” She lifted her chin and commanded the men behind her. “Go, teach her a good lesson. Teach her that other people’s things are not to be touched.”

At her words, the men’s faces twisted into grim smiles as they closed in on me. My heart pounded. I turned to run, but they quickly surrounded me, blocking every exit. Seeing no escape, I steeled myself, curled into a ball, and clutched the document bag containing my ticket and papers tightly to my chest. I was pressed to the ground. Someone yanked my hair, and slaps rained down on my cheeks. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. I bit down hard, not making a sound, enduring the punches and kicks raining down on me, my vision blurring. Brittany stood a few steps away on the stairs, arms crossed. Seeing me curled up, protecting the document bag, her voice was petulant. “Alice Vance, aren’t you so capable? Daring to snatch things from me, daring to process paperwork behind Mom’s back. Why aren’t you so tough now?” “Keep hitting her until she lets go. I want to see just how hard this wretch’s bones are.” I don’t know how long it lasted, but the one-sided beating finally stopped. My whole body ached, and I could only lie on the ground, gasping for breath. Brittany squatted down, nudged my shoulder disdainfully with the tip of her shoe, then snatched away the document bag. She casually flipped through the ticket and papers inside, then pulled a lighter from her pocket. “No!” My eyes burned with fury. I found a burst of strength from somewhere and desperately grabbed her pant leg. Just as Brittany kicked me away and was about to ignite the folder, Eleanor finally arrived. She rushed over, panting. The bodyguards following her quickly subdued the thugs and Brittany. “Brittany Vance! You’ve even learned despicable tricks like faking suicide by jumping?! I’m telling you, from today on, none of your schemes will work on me!” Back at the Vance home, Eleanor dragged a crying and struggling Brittany into the study for a lecture. I, dragging my aching body, returned to my room. The next morning, I sat in the car, waiting. After a long time, Eleanor finally emerged with a red-eyed, swollen-faced Brittany. “Alice, Brittany knows she was wrong. I specifically asked her to see you off today and apologize properly. After all, you two are sisters, you’ll always need to support each other in the future.” Saying this, she nudged Brittany. “Go, help your sister with her luggage. Consider it an apology.” Under Eleanor’s unwavering gaze, Brittany grudgingly walked over, snatched my backpack, and deliberately slammed her elbow into yesterday’s wound. I gasped in pain, a cold sweat instantly breaking out on my forehead. But I bit down hard, swallowing my cry of pain. No more complications, I told myself. Just endure a little longer, everything would be over soon. At the airport, Brittany seemed to have adjusted her mood. She was laughing and chatting with Eleanor as if she hadn’t been the frantic person of yesterday. And I, seeing the boarding gate so close, couldn’t help but let out a faint smile. Finally, the announcement for my flight to begin boarding echoed through the speakers. I took a deep breath, stood up, and extended my hand to Brittany for my backpack. However, at that very moment, Eleanor suddenly stood up. She clamped one hand tightly on me, holding me in her embrace. With her other hand, she used all her strength to push Brittany forcefully towards the boarding ramp. Eleanor’s voice suddenly rose, her eyes filled with reluctance as she looked at Brittany. “Alice! Study well over there! Mom will wait for you to come back and inherit the family business!” Before I could react, a group of fully equipped police officers surrounded Eleanor and me.

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Five years after my divorce, I received an old diary from my ex-husband. It contained things he couldn’t let me know until he died. [An arranged marriage? Seriously? Over my dead body!] [Chloe Sterling just had a kidney removed, she’s not dying. She’s just being overly dramatic.] [Ridiculous. She actually thinks she’s special, that this will make me want her back?] [Where are you? Please, come back.] [Chloe Sterling, I was wrong.] [In the next life, I hope you never meet Liam Thorne again.] I was getting Leo ready for preschool when Liam Thorne’s package arrived. I tossed the delivery box onto the entryway table without a second thought. My heart, which I thought had long been calm, still rippled with emotion. Back home, I hesitated for a long time. Eventually, I opened that old diary. [July 25, 2015, Saturday, Sunny to Cloudy My old-fashioned father actually wants me to get into an arranged marriage with that naive Sterling girl. Doesn’t he know how much I can’t stand her? And an arranged marriage with her? You’ve got to be kidding me. (Unless it was her sister, Willow Sterling, then maybe I’d consider it.)] Only these few lines were on the first page of the diary. The handwriting was light and messy, reminding me of our younger days. Our families, the Sterlings and the Thornes, had been intertwined for generations. So Liam and I were practically childhood sweethearts. Too bad I was raised as a daughter of the prominent Sterling family but wasn’t their biological heir. Willow Sterling was the true Sterling daughter, found after being separated from the family for years. But after all, I was the daughter the Sterlings had raised for eighteen years, and I had a compliant personality. The Sterlings decided not to send me away, letting me stay as the younger Sterling daughter. The Thorne family also continued to treat me warmly. Except for Liam Thorne. He always picked on me, ever since we were kids. At three, he pulled my pigtails. At thirteen, he pulled my bra strap. Now he was mocking me for being a fraud. He was utterly annoying. At my eighteenth birthday party, a fallen candle ignited balloons, causing a fire. Unexpectedly, the annoying Liam Thorne was the first to rush over, shielding me from the flames and getting a large burn on his back. From that moment on, I fell hopelessly in love with my hero. For four years in college, I did everything to pursue him. Friends in our circle called me Liam Thorne’s biggest simp, but I didn’t care. I loved it. After college, I begged my father for half a year before securing an arranged marriage with Liam Thorne. I knew he wasn’t happy; he scowled throughout the entire engagement party. He only spoke to Willow. Back then, I was foolish enough to believe. Even if Liam was an iceberg, I could slowly melt him, making him fall in love with me. It wasn’t until after we were married that I found him and Willow kissing in our marital home. The heartbreak felt like a dagger twisting in my chest, making me refuse to admit it. He really didn’t love me. “Chloe Sterling, our marriage is purely to maintain family interests.” “As you can see, the one I love is your sister, Willow.” “How about, from today on, we live separate lives?” I sat dejectedly on the floor, watching the mockery in his eyes, my hands clutching the carpet, feeling utterly powerless. He left with Willow and didn’t come back for six months. I searched the city like crazy for him. I became the talk of the town as a deserted wife, scorned and ridiculed by everyone. Until that night, I saw a drunken Liam Thorne outside a private club room. He’d been dumped. Willow had broken up with him. I took him back home and nursed him back to health, treating him like he was the most precious thing. “Chloe Sterling, are you really that stupid?” “I think you’re just pathetic. Saving you back then was a mistake.” “You’re like a leech, impossible to shake off.” During that time, Liam drank all day long. Drunk or sober, he’d always say something to hurt me. I took it all in. What else could I do? I loved him, hopelessly so. I put down my car keys, walking to the living room while reading the diary. I opened the fridge and grabbed an ice-cold soda. Curling up on the couch, I turned to the next page.

[December 8, 2017, Friday, Light Rain Married Chloe Sterling for two years now, and she’s still so boring, always just circling around me. It’s really annoying. Besides, I’m the city’s most notorious playboy, so what if I go out with some girls? What’s the big deal? She’s just like my dad, always trying to control me, so old-fashioned. I, Liam Thorne, swear, I will never love Chloe Sterling even a little bit in this life. If I ever do, may I rot in hell.] A mouthful of soda nearly choked me. I tossed the remaining half bottle. Anyway, I didn’t even like the stuff. It was Liam’s favorite, though. Liam loved thrills, adventure, and everything challenging. That’s how he fell for Willow, too. Willow was brought back home from the countryside when she was eighteen. She was different from me. She was fiery, daring, and willing to try anything new and exciting. Liam loved her bravery and detested my timidness. Later, the brave Willow also found Liam timid and boring, so she dumped him. She called me that day. “Chloe Sterling, I never loved Liam. I just purely envied you for living my heiress life for eighteen years. So, I took Liam from you purely for the thrill of it. Now, I’m giving him back. We’re even from now on.” She was as impulsive as ever. Before I could say a word, she hung up. But how could Liam, who had once loved Willow, settle for ordinary? So he started his own challenges. Challenges like collecting twelve zodiac girlfriends, and twenty-four seasonal girlfriends. I remember December 8, 2017, was the hundredth time I caught him out cheating. His left arm was around a young model, and his right hand was getting cozy with a B-list actress. When I arrived, I smashed his table, drenching him in whiskey. “Chloe Sterling, you’ve gone too far!” He surged to his feet in a rage, clutching the liquor bottle tightly, but he didn’t throw it. I gave him a cold stare, grabbed the bottle from his hand, smashed it on the floor, and yelled. “Come home with me!” For the first time, he actually listened to me. It was drizzling outside the bar, and I just dragged him, stubbornly walking him all the way home. “Liam Thorne, how long are you going to keep playing these games?” “None of your business!” “We’re married.” “Pfft, you think I wanted that?” I stared at him. He stripped off his clothes right in front of me, not caring one bit, and walked into the bathroom. Two years married. He had never touched me, yet he had no qualms about letting me see his body. I knew he was trying to disgust me, to insult me. From that day on, I started trying to change. Liam loved soda, so I filled the fridge with it. He loved to see my pained expression when I drank soda, so he forced me to drink can after can. My throat burned like fire, and I looked at Liam through teary eyes. Over time, I actually started to like soda. Liam, then, found it boring. Later, on our fourth wedding anniversary, he unexpectedly gave me a motorcycle. “Here, Chloe Sterling. Since you love me so much, come ride with me!” “You’re not scared, are you?” My heart churned as I touched the motorcycle, but I kept a brave face. “What’s there to be scared of? I’ve already gone skydiving with you, this is nothing!” Liam’s lips curved into a smile, and he took me to the most dangerous cliffside road in the city. I followed him on my bike, the wind making my legs tremble. Liam was definitely doing this on purpose. He knew I had a fear of heights. “Chloe Sterling, if you can follow me around this track today, I’ll promise to be a proper husband. Do you dare?”

He looked at me provocatively, his contemptuous and disdainful gaze clearly visible through the helmet visor. “What, what’s there to be, to be scared of? Let’s go!” The roar of the engine drowned out his mockery, and the motorcycle exhaust stung my nostrils. I revved the engine and sped up, determined to fight for a new life. Cleaning up the soda spilled on the table, I picked up Leo’s leftover sandwich, eating it as I turned to the next page. [May 20, 2020, Sunday, Cloudy What right does Chloe Sterling have to demand I spend Valentine’s Day with her? That incident was just an accident, I don’t feel guilty at all. Besides, Chloe Sterling just had a kidney removed, she’s not dying. Why are both the Sterling and Thorne families fawning over her? I think she’s just being overly dramatic.] I closed the diary, shaking my head with a bitter smile. Thanks to Liam Thorne, I’d had one kidney removed, making my life much more inconvenient afterward. My memory drifted back to that cliffside road. The winding mountain road was narrow and winding; for a novice, completing the entire route was impossible. I could only cling to Liam’s trail, staring at the back I had chased for years, trying to boost my own spirits. But fate, however, had other plans. After a sharp turn, a large pothole appeared on the road. I slammed on the brakes in fright, and the inertia sent me flying off the bike. When I woke up again, I was already on the operating table. Under the glaring fluorescent lights, several doctors stood, their faces grim, operating on me. Eight hours of surgery. I passed out, woke up, passed out again. It wasn’t until I was moved to a regular ward that I fully understood. After I was thrown off the cliff, a tree branch had punctured my left kidney. Mom held my hand, crying uncontrollably. “Chloe, don’t blame me. If your left kidney isn’t removed, you won’t live!” I looked at her swollen, red eyes, my heart aching as I gently stroked her hand. Later, I stayed in the hospital for three months. During this time, Liam only came once, secretly peeking at me from the doorway before leaving. Actually, I knew it all. I was taken back to the Sterling family estate to recover, and Mom and Dad still doted on me like I was their precious gem. But my heart felt hollow. I understood then: it no longer beat for Liam Thorne. Two days before May 20, 2020, I sent Liam a SnapChat message. “Spend Valentine’s Day with me, and I’ll set you free.” On May 20, I waited for him at the restaurant where I had held my coming-of-age party. I thought he’d rush over, eager to get his freedom. But by the time the restaurant closed, he still hadn’t arrived. I called him, but the line was busy. I laughed at myself bitterly. I’d overestimated my importance. Stepping out of the restaurant, a blast of cold air hit me, making me sneeze. “Chloe Sterling, it’s so cold, why aren’t you dressed warmer?” A familiar scarf was slipped around my neck. I looked up. It was Liam. He still looked so impatient. But he had come, to claim his freedom. That night, we drank a lot. He spent the entire night telling me how much he detested me. He hated me so much he couldn’t even find a comfortable way to kiss me. He hated me so much he was afraid of hurting me when we got intimate. Yes, after that night, we finally started acting like a married couple. He would occasionally wake up early to make me breakfast. He would sometimes join me for walks by the river. I finally lived the life I had dreamed of for a while. But… why did I suddenly find it so boring? On August 20, 2020, our fifth wedding anniversary. That day, I kept my promise and divorced him. There was no cooling-off period; the day after we finalized the divorce. I vanished.

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The day Caleb Thorne’s high school sweetheart returned to the States marked exactly three years of me playing Support for him. He told me to step aside and advised, “Your macro awareness is just too poor. Riley is a much better fit for me.” Everyone in the league said that if it wasn’t for Caleb, someone of my skill level would never have made it onto a pro roster. They said I was dragging him down. And Riley? She was the one who actually had a chance to help him win the World Championship. So, on the day I packed my bags and left, a friend asked him, “You’re not going to go after her?” Caleb just laughed it off, completely unbothered. “Let her learn her lesson. She’ll be back.” Until one day, someone jokingly suggested they wanted to hear me grovel and apologize to him over the phone on speaker. Uncharacteristically, Caleb agreed and dialed my number. But the moment the call connected, a lazy, raspy male voice answered instead: “She’s in the shower. “In… my room.” Rumor has it that Caleb shattered his wine glass right then and there, bolting from the banquet like a madman. 1 The day Caleb’s high school sweetheart flew back from the European circuit was exactly our three-year anniversary as a bot-lane duo. He threw a massive welcome party for her at the team facility. He invited everyone. Except me. He told me to stay in my room and “reflect on my mistakes.” Pop— Confetti cannons erupted in the living room downstairs. Every word drifting up the stairs was dripping with praise for Riley Mercer. “You’re a legend, Caleb! You actually managed to poach the top female Support in the West!” “With Riley backing us up, next year’s World Championship is practically in the bag!” “Cheers to the birth of our new golden bot-lane couple!” Riley Mercer. The star female Support player. She had a glowing track record and great mechanics. Though she hadn’t secured a World title yet, the entire organization believed her addition would be the push Frost Wolves (FW) needed to break their bottleneck. After all, everyone assumed that if I hadn’t been dragging them down, the championship trophy would already be sitting on Caleb’s shelf. Even Caleb himself had said it: “Your macro awareness is just too poor, Chloe. Riley is a much better fit for me. “Only Riley has the potential to help me win Worlds. “Chloe, give up your starting roster spot.” …… 2 Caleb knew exactly what a starting roster spot meant to a professional esports player. Yet, when he heard me refuse, he just stared at me with cold, calculating eyes. “Chloe, can you stop throwing a tantrum for once? “Can’t you be a team player? Just stay in your room and think about your attitude.” Because of that, when I walked out of my room and appeared suddenly at the top of the stairs, Caleb’s eyes flashed with the impatience of someone whose authority had been challenged. “What are you doing down here?” Riley peeked out from behind him, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Caleb, who is this?” “No one,” Caleb frowned, his tone instantly softening to reassure her. “Just a substitute.” As he spoke, he subtly took a step forward, using his body to block my line of sight to Riley. It was a defensive posture, as if I were some kind of monster about to strike. Just a substitute… My hands balled into fists at my sides, a sharp, suffocating ache spreading through my chest. Satisfied with Caleb’s answer, Riley let out a soft “Oh,” then stepped out from behind him and enthusiastically extended her hand toward me. She smiled. “Hi, I’m Riley Mercer. I’m FW’s new starting Support.” Her smile was laced with condescension, and she made sure to heavily emphasize the word starting. Looking at her bright, beautiful face, and then at Caleb standing in front of her with a warning glare fixed on me, my mind flooded with memories. I remembered the countless fights Caleb and I had after Riley announced her return to the States. “Look at other teams’ Supports, and then look at you! “Chloe, why can’t you just learn from Riley? “If you had even a third of her game sense, we wouldn’t have lost that last match!” He had probably been planning to replace me for a long time. Suddenly, the questions I had been agonizing over didn’t need to be asked anymore. I already had the answers. A strange sense of relief washed over me. I had known Caleb for ten years. Chased the esports dream with him for seven. Dated him for five. Fought alongside him on the professional stage for three. I thought we’d be partners forever. I never expected the cord to snap this easily. …… 3 I raised my eyes and looked at Riley calmly. “Hi, I’m Chloe Bennett. I’m nobody’s substitute. As of this exact second, I am officially leaving FW.” The entire team house went dead silent. Caleb’s head snapped toward me, his brows knitted in fury. “Do you even know what you’re saying?” His expression was dark. I knew exactly why he was furious. He was warning me not to test his patience. If this were the past, out of respect for his position as Captain and to avoid causing drama for the team, I would have lowered my head and backed down. But now… “I’ve already spoken with upper management to terminate my contract.” I bypassed him, handing a stack of folders to Manager Davis. “These are all the signed release forms. Keep them safe.” “Chloe!” Caleb’s sharp voice stopped me in my tracks. “Think this through. If you leave me, what organization is going to want you? Do you have any idea—” “I know,” I chuckled lightly, cutting him off. I shot a meaningful glance at Riley standing behind him and answered a question he hadn’t asked. “Don’t worry. I won’t bother you anymore.” The subtext was clear: We’re breaking up, Caleb. I’m dumping you. Caleb’s face turned an ugly shade of pale. He was so furious he practically gritted his teeth as he delivered his final warning: “I’m not going to tolerate your little temper tantrums this time, Chloe. If you walk out that door, do not regret it!” He honestly believed this was just a bluff, that I would eventually crawl back and apologize like I always did. The only answer he got was the sight of my back as I walked away. In every single argument we’d ever had, the conflict only ended because I was the “good girlfriend.” Whether it was our synergy in the game or our dynamic in real life, Caleb had never compromised for me. Not even once. So what was this about him tolerating me? As I pushed open the front doors of the facility, I raised my hand to block out the blinding sunlight, walking away without a single ounce of hesitation. Behind me, I could faintly hear the sound of something shattering violently against the floor. …… 4 After leaving the FW facility, I wandered the streets aimlessly for three days. During that time, I reached out to numerous teams, but every single one of them gave me polite, evasive rejections. It wasn’t until a female manager from a mid-tier team took pity on me that I found out the truth. She called me privately and confessed that Caleb had already put the word out. He had blacklisted me across the league. No one was going to take me in. After hanging up, I clenched my fists until my knuckles turned white, eventually letting out a hollow, self-deprecating laugh. So this was what he meant by “do not regret it.” Caleb came from old money. His family was rich and deeply connected. When he first started playing professionally, it was little more than a hobby for a bored rich kid. But as he started winning, that hobby evolved into a dream. Even though more and more female players have been entering the esports scene in recent years, the mountain of prejudice still forces most women into the Support role. The community loves to act magnanimous, patting themselves on the back for allowing a woman on the roster. But at the same time, they are incredibly stingy. They only feel comfortable placing women in roles they perceive as “low-impact.” It’s an unspoken rule: everyone just assumes female players are biologically inferior to men when it comes to mechanical skill. They’d rather strip women of their infinite potential than trust them to carry the game. Just like with Caleb and me. No matter what actually happened on the server, whenever we lost a match, the vitriol was always aimed at me: “This is why girls shouldn’t play. Why did they draft a female Support?!” “Is she sleeping with the managers to keep her roster spot?” “Go back to the kitchen, stop ruining our games!” Not once did anyone question if Caleb made the wrong macro call. Compared to other male ADCs in the league, Caleb faced almost zero criticism. And the only reason for that was because his Support was me—and I happened to be a woman. …… 5 On the fifth day of my fruitless job hunt, just as I was starting to doubt whether I was truly cut out for esports, someone completely unexpected showed up. Captain of Ghost Town (GT) and FW’s biggest rival. Hunter Vance. Before I could even process what was happening, he casually greeted the owner of the local burger joint, grabbed two cans of soda from the cooler, and slid into the booth across from me. He cracked one open with one hand, slid it over to me, and lounged back, sipping from the other. He looked so relaxed you’d think he was nursing a cold beer on a beach. I just stared at him, totally bewildered. Seeing me frozen, he lazily lifted an eyebrow. “Our org bans alcohol during the season.” He paused, frowning slightly. “Did you want a beer? I mean, I can pay the fine if we get caught…” He muttered something else under his breath that I didn’t catch. The whole situation felt absurd. “What are you doing here?” I asked. Hunter and I weren’t exactly friends, but we weren’t strangers either. As opponents, we’d nod at each other backstage and shake hands after matches. That was the extent of it. But I knew his reputation. Just like Caleb, he was the face of his franchise. A superstar. But where Caleb played the gentle, polished nice guy for the cameras, Hunter had a very different label: “A serious face hiding a totally chaotic, trash-talking esports bad boy.” And he had a venomous tongue. Just like right now. He set his soda down, looking at me with a half-smile. “Unemployed? Packing up to go work on a farm? “Getting too old? Hands too slow? “Honestly, watching you and Caleb play the bot lane… I could scatter birdseed on my keyboard, and a pigeon would have better movement than you two.” Me: “……” And here I thought he came to comfort me. Hunter seemed to read my mind. He scoffed, giving me a side-eye. “What are you expecting? I’m not that fake nice-guy Caleb, playing to the cameras and running a charity.” Me: “……” In the span of thirty seconds, he absolutely verbally dismantled me. It was a stark reminder of why pro players are often called “keyboard warriors.” I tried to argue back at first, but eventually, I was reduced to just nodding aggressively like a turtle, deeply agreeing with his roast. Hunter found this highly amusing. He laughed and muttered, “Useless.” Then, he pulled an unlit cigarette from his pocket, held it between his lips, and asked me with the casualness of discussing the weather: “Hey, loser. Wanna join our team?” I nodded numbly, taking a solid ten seconds to process the words before my head snapped up. I stared at him in utter shock. “W-what did you just say?” My heart started hammering against my ribs. I was terrified. Terrified that he was just mocking me in my lowest moment, but also terrified that my own cowardice would make me miss this lifeline. I nervously fumbled for words. “B-but your roster is full, isn’t it?” GT was a stacked roster. They didn’t even need substitutes. “Management is making some roster changes,” Hunter said smoothly. He picked up his soda again. But when he met my wide, panicked eyes, he slowly set it back down. He ground his teeth. “What is that look? Give me a straight answer. Yes or no. Or I’m taking the offer off the table.” He looked incredibly annoyed, like a dad scolding his disappointing kid. But I didn’t care. The only words that registered in my brain were taking the offer off the table. Instinctively, I lunged forward and grabbed his hand across the table, shouting, “I’m in! I’m in! Please don’t take it back!” My yelling earned us some weird looks from the other tables. Hunter just stared down at where my hands were gripping his for a solid thirty seconds. Then, he cleared his throat awkwardly and muttered, “Keep it down.” Thinking he was disgusted by the physical contact, I quickly pulled my hands back and sat up perfectly straight. But as I followed him out of the diner and walked behind him toward the GT team house, I noticed the back of his neck was violently red. Hunter reached up, rubbed the back of his neck, and cursed under his breath, “Damn heat. It’s too hot today.” ……

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