Category: English

On Christmas Eve, my sister, Chloe, had a mild allergic reaction to mangoes. My parents frantically rushed her to the emergency room. Yet, I had been severely allergic to fish since childhood, but fish was served on our dinner table every single day. My parents always told me: “Allergy? That’s just a weak immune system. Eat more of it, and once your body gets used to it, you won’t be allergic anymore.” Staring at the Christmas dinner slowly turning cold on the table, I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. I didn’t even realize my face was already drenched in tears. Suddenly, a notification popped up on my phone. It was a Snapchat message from Mom: [Summer, Chloe refuses to get a blood test. She says she’s terrified of needles and is crying for you. Get over here now.] I pulled at the corner of my mouth. Terrified? No, she wasn’t. She just didn’t want them to find out she was pregnant. Mom, Dad, your precious little golden child isn’t just pregnant. I walked back into the hospital. At the ER entrance, Nurse Lily looked up in surprise. “Dr. Miller? I thought your shift ended. Why are you back?” I gave her a weary smile. “My sister was admitted. Allergic reaction.” I headed toward the trauma bay. Behind me, I heard Lily muttering to herself, “Weird. Isn’t Dr. Summer a doctor here? Why do her parents need to bring her sister to the ER for a mild allergy?” To my parents, Chloe’s allergy was a life-or-death crisis. How could they ever risk their “golden child” when they had me—their “trial run”—to experiment on? Outside the treatment room, Mom was buried in Dad’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably. “Richard, we are such terrible parents. How did we not know Chloe was allergic to mangoes?” They had actually been perfect parents to Chloe. There had never been a single allergen in our house since the day she was born. But Chloe was pregnant. The pregnancy had triggered a new, sudden allergy, and they simply didn’t know yet. The moment Mom saw me, she grabbed my arm roughly, her voice dripping with blame. “What took you so long? Don’t you know a severe allergy can kill someone?” “She refuses to do the blood test, so they can’t start the IV. She kicked us both out of the room. Go in there and do something!” I looked into her tear-filled eyes. For the first time in my life, I talked back. “I know exactly how deadly allergies are, Mom.” “So tell me—why is it that when I was allergic to fish, you mashed a whole bowl of cod into my rice and forced me to eat it?” Not only that, but when my throat began to swell, they told me to “tough it out” so I could eat fish normally in the future. It was only when a neighbor visited, gasped in horror, and screamed at my parents for being criminally negligent that I was finally rushed to the ICU. The doctor said if I had arrived five minutes later, I would have been brain-dead. Mom froze for a second. Then, her face flushed with deep annoyance. “What nonsense are you talking about? I never did that!” “Even if I did, why bring up the past now? Look at your sister! She’s breaking out in hives!” With that, she pushed me into the hospital room, shutting the door behind me. Chloe was sitting on the gurney, scratching her neck frantically. “Summer! Thank God you’re here. You have to save me. Only you can help me now.” I pulled back her collar to inspect the rash. “You need an IV antihistamine. It’ll clear up faster.” She glanced nervously at the closed door and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Summer, cut the crap. I know you found the folic acid pills in my vitamin bottle.” “I know I can’t hide it from you. Please, Summer, help me. I can’t take any medication that might hurt the baby.” I stared at her, my expression completely flat. “So? You’re going to keep it? You’re only a sophomore in college…” “Summer!” she interrupted, her voice snapping with irritation. “Just because Mom and Dad ruined your relationship when you were in college doesn’t mean you get to rain on my parade.” “Mom and Dad actually allowed me to date. I just haven’t figured out how to tell them about the pregnancy yet.” Right. She had to remind me. When I fell in love in college, my parents threw a massive scene at the Dean’s office. They used the most vicious language to humiliate me and that boy at school. They even threatened to report him to the police for sexual assault, despite me screaming that we hadn’t even kissed. They wouldn’t let it go. In the end, unable to bear the public humiliation and pressure, the boy withdrew from college. His entire future, which he had worked so hard for, was destroyed by my parents. After that, no one at school dared to be my friend. And I never dated again. But when Chloe went to college, my parents saw that I had become an “old maid.” Fearing they had been too strict, they suddenly became open-minded and encouraged Chloe to date.

To ensure she had a “healthy social life,” they raised her allowance to $1,000 a month. They claimed they didn’t want her “begging boys for money.” Meanwhile, when I was in college, they gave me exactly $150 a month. I had to work three part-time jobs just to afford groceries and textbooks. Later, Mom actually bragged on Facebook about how she “fostered independence” in her eldest daughter. The post was flooded with mockery from local moms. [If you don’t want to cherish your daughter, someone else will.] [Treating your kid like that is how you end up in a cheap nursing home.] Panic-stricken by the online backlash, they immediately added another $500 to Chloe’s monthly allowance. Every wrong decision they made with me, they corrected by doubling the love on Chloe. “Summer!” Seeing me space out, Chloe gave me a hard shove, her tone reverting to her usual bossy self. “I looked it up on Google. There are allergy meds safe for pregnant women. Prescribe me that. I’m itching to death!” “I’m not lying for you, Chloe. Tell Mom and Dad yourself.” I turned to leave. “Summer! Don’t you want to know what Grandma Sarah said right before she died?” I stopped dead in my tracks. Grandma Sarah was the only person in this world who had ever truly loved me. When I was little, I proudly brought my report cards and academic awards home, taping them to the living room wall to surprise my parents. They only gave them a cold, passing glance. “Take them down. It looks messy. You think this deserves a trophy? Summer, you’re still far from good enough.” But Grandma Sarah would bake blueberry muffins to celebrate my B-plus. She would hug me and say, “My Summer is the smartest girl in the world.” She carefully taped together the certificates my mother had ripped down. “Bring them all to Grandma’s house, sweetie. Seeing them makes me happy.” Eventually, my awards covered an entire wall in Grandma’s living room. She boasted about me to every neighbor who walked by. But when Grandma was terminally ill, my parents hid it from me. They claimed they didn’t want to “distract” me from my medical school entrance exams. Because of their lie, I never got to say goodbye. Yet, when Chloe was stressed during her junior year of high school, they let her take a gap year to travel across Europe. How was I ever supposed to forgive them for that? Suppressing the sharp ache in my chest, I turned back to Chloe. “Fine. I’ll write the prescription.” The moment I stepped out of the room, my parents swarmed me. “How is she? Is Chloe okay?” “I’m getting her meds.” I averted my eyes and walked past them quickly. They immediately pressed their faces against the glass window of Chloe’s room. “Chloe? Sweetie, are you okay?” “Okay, okay, Daddy and Mommy won’t come in. Just don’t scratch your face, okay? It’ll scar, and we can’t have our beautiful girl scarred!” I forced myself to block out their voices. But my chest felt like a hollow cave, with cold wind howling through the empty space. From childhood to adulthood, they had nothing but criticism for me. Even when neighbors complimented my looks, Mom would scoff: “Beautiful? Her eyes are as small as a mouse’s. And she has such a gloomy personality. I don’t know who she got those genes from.” Only Grandma Sarah ever told me I was beautiful. I’m sorry, Grandma. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there at the end. Back in the room, I handed the pills to Chloe. “Take three. We need to keep you overnight for observation.” The moment she swallowed them, I asked, “What did Grandma say before she passed?” “Do you really want to know?” Chloe arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. “No wonder Mom and Dad say you’re an ungrateful leech who only cared about that old lady.” I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. “Tell me.” She slid back down onto the pillows. “Tell Mom and Dad to go home first. You stay here and nurse me tonight.” “Chloe.” “Don’t think your pregnancy is the only secret I know.”

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At our Thanksgiving dinner, I happily announced that Chloe was pregnant. My dad, Arthur, immediately proposed: “Chloe, let me hire an eight-pack male housekeeper for you.” “You’re pregnant, you shouldn’t be doing any chores. Having a handsome male housekeeper will not only keep the house clean but also satisfy your physical needs. We wouldn’t want you to feel frustrated during pregnancy!” Chloe almost choked to death on her turkey. I slammed my fork down in displeasure: “Dad, what kind of sick joke is that!” Arthur glared at me with a sinister look: “I’m not joking. What woman doesn’t cheat?” “When your mother was pregnant with you, she hooked up with our male housekeeper. Every woman in this world cheats, so why would your wife be any exception?” A sudden surge of anger rushed to my head. Just because his wife cheated on him, why the hell did my wife have to cheat on me too! Chloe looked like she was sitting on pins and needles. She nervously wiped her sweat, then tightly held my hand. “Arthur, please don’t test me. I promise I will never do anything to betray Ethan!” My dad’s smile froze on his face. Jealousy quickly crept into his eyes. “Oh, my silly daughter-in-law, Ethan has already betrayed you a long time ago. Why are you being so loyal to him?” My eyes widened in disbelief. “Dad, what nonsense are you talking about now? I have never done anything behind Chloe’s back!” Arthur smirked triumphantly. As if he had been prepared for this, he pulled a crumpled piece of loose-leaf paper from his pocket. He slid the paper into Chloe’s hands and lowered his voice: “This is the creepy letter Ethan wrote to a girl back in high school. I intercepted it. I even made a hundred copies of it and plastered them all over his school.” “Harassing a girl at eighteen—I would never do something so shameless. What does this prove? It proves Ethan is a degenerate creep. He’s definitely messing around behind your back.” “Even a good man like me got cheated on. You don’t need to treat a trash guy like him like a king. If you want to cheat, just do it.” My dad let out a cold snort. His expression was filled with utter contempt. I clenched my fists so hard that my nails dug deep into my palms. The sharp pain was burning, but I couldn’t feel it over the numbness in my chest. Those suffocating memories instantly flooded back to me… Growing up, my dad’s favorite phrase was: “If I didn’t have it, why should you?” “I didn’t even have clean underwear when I was a kid, why should you? Just wrap yourself in any old rag!” “I’m not buying you a razor. No one bought me one when I was young, so why should you use my money? Figure it out yourself!” I grew up with no new clothes, no decent underwear, and not even a proper razor. When I was eighteen, a kind girl in my class noticed my struggle. She hesitantly handed me a bag one day. Inside were clean underwear, shaving cream, and a brand-new razor. She quietly told me to ask her for help if I ever struggled again. I was so moved that I wrote her a heartfelt thank-you letter. But my dad insisted it was a “harassment letter.” He called me shameless and claimed the girl only bought me those things because I had threatened her. My dad dragged me to a clinic for a reproductive exam. He yelled in the hallway for everyone to hear: “Check if he’s even functional, or if he’s just a sexually frustrated freak!” When the results came back completely normal, he looked dazed, almost utterly disappointed. But quickly, he changed his narrative. “So what if you’re physically normal? You wrote creepy letters to a girl at eighteen. Your mind is already filthy. You’re just a lowlife. No decent girl will ever want you.” “I was clean and decent, yet I ended up with a woman like your mother. A piece of trash like you is only fit to marry a worthless whore.” My dad heavily edited my thank-you letter, turning it into a truly disgusting, explicit note. He posted a hundred copies of it around the school. From then on, that girl avoided me like the plague. My classmates looked at me with disgust and mocked me daily. I didn’t have a single friend. Even the teacher who used to like me the most started looking at me with pure loathing. Later, I worked hard and escaped that small, run-down town. My career took off, and I started earning more and more. My dad actually apologized to me back then. He said he was only trying to prevent me from dating in high school so I wouldn’t ruin my future. I thought he had finally changed. But now, he was bringing up the past again just to trash me in front of my wife! After reading the “letter” with a look of utter confusion, Chloe looked at my dad as if he were a lunatic: “Arthur, whether this thing is real or fake, it’s ancient history.” “I don’t care about the past. I only care about our future.” “I am very happy with Ethan. Don’t worry, I will never betray him.” 2 Chloe squeezed my hand. Her warmth slowly melted the icy chill in my bones. Most of my anger faded away. Ever since the letter incident, my dad kept drumming it into my head that I didn’t deserve a good girl. After I started working, he kept setting me up on horrible blind dates. A girl under house arrest, a convicted scammer, a woman who had been divorced three times… My dad always said that since he couldn’t get a good woman, I certainly didn’t deserve one either. But Chloe had never let go of my hand from the very beginning. Chloe’s loyalty only made my dad furious. No matter what lies he spewed, Chloe stayed by my side. So, he turned his target back onto me. “Ethan, how many months along is she?” I answered warily, “Almost four months.” My dad smiled, looking relieved. “Four months… Heh, then you’re about to become impotent soon.” “Ethan, you’re finally going to taste this misery. When your mother was pregnant, I worked myself to the bone to support the family. My body broke down, and your mother called me a useless excuse of a man. That’s why she slept with the male housekeeper.” “Once you ruin your own body from stress, Chloe will definitely find someone else.” Looking at the satisfaction in my dad’s smile, I couldn’t help but shiver. A cold, desolate sadness washed over me. We were father and son, not enemies. Why was my dad so eager to see me fail? Why did he desperately want my wife to cheat on me? Shouldn’t a father want his son to be happy? At the thought of me being betrayed, the excitement on my dad’s face was completely unmasked. He gestured wildly as he rambled on: “Being impotent is nothing. That’s the least of your worries.” “With Chloe pregnant, you’ll have to work like a dog to support the family. You’ll go bald, get wrinkles, grow a beer belly, and look so ugly that Chloe will want to throw up just looking at you! Once you turn into that monster, Chloe will naturally jump into another man’s bed.” “I had to go through all that pain. Why shouldn’t you experience it too?” Even Chloe, with her gentle temper, was thoroughly enraged now. She glared at my dad coldly: “Arthur, that’s not going to happen.” “My family has money. Ethan doesn’t need to destroy his health to work. He only needs to do what he loves. I am going to use my entire trust fund to support his startup.” “Besides, even if Ethan does end up looking like that, I would only feel heartbroken and blame myself. Why would I ever cheat on him?” My dad opened his mouth, his eyes turning blank. I thought he was going to throw another tantrum. Tantrum about how hard he worked in his youth to the point of ruining his body, and why I got to have it easy. But he didn’t. My dad silently kept putting food onto Chloe’s plate, muttering, “Eat more.” In his eyes, there was jealousy, but even more, there was deep loss and misery. My heart suddenly gave a sharp, painful throb. No matter what, my dad had raised me all by himself. His jealousy was real, but his twisted love didn’t seem entirely fake either. He was old. Chloe and I should try to tolerate him as much as we could. The Thanksgiving dinner ended in a bizarre, tense silence. Soon, Chloe reached her second trimester. Chloe took me to see the office space she had rented for my startup, but we were stopped by the property manager. “Mr. Miller, the lease was canceled by your father.” “If you have any questions, you should talk to him.” With a loud *thud*, my heart sank to the bottom of my chest. I rushed back home immediately to confront him. The moment I stepped through the door, my eyes were blinded by the brand-new Rolex on my dad’s wrist. I didn’t even have to guess where the money came from. Furious, I grabbed his wrist and demanded: “When I got married, you said you didn’t have a new watch when you married, so why should I. I felt bad for you, so I gave you the watch Chloe bought for me without a second thought.” “Dad, if you wanted a new watch, you could have just told me! I would have bought it for you! Why did you cancel my office lease?!” Hearing the words “office lease,” my dad’s eyes instantly turned bloodshot. 3 He gnashed his teeth and glared at me, a terrifying hatred emanating from his eyes. He slapped me hard across the face: “You have the nerve to ask?!” “When I wanted to start a business back then, nobody helped me! I had to be a slave to corporate America my entire life! Why? Why is Chloe willing to give you her trust fund to support your startup? You don’t deserve it!” I held my burning cheek, completely dazed. That phrase again. I felt incredibly wronged and helpless. Why did my dad lose his mind every time my life got slightly better? Could a father really envy his own son to this extent? While I was lost in thought, my dad suddenly lunged at me and violently yanked at my pants. His eyes shone with a manic, excited light, filled with twisted anticipation: “Chloe is over five months pregnant now. You must be exhausted. Let me see how pathetic and shriveled you’ve become!” The moment he saw that I was perfectly healthy and functional, the wild grin froze on his face. He rubbed his eyes, staring in absolute disbelief. Finally, he had to accept the bitter truth that my body was perfectly fine. My dad burst into tears, ripping open his own shirt to point at his worn-down, frail chest, glaring at me with pure hatred: “To raise you, I ruined my own health! Your mother called me a useless piece of trash and cheated on me!” “I became a broken man, so why the hell do you get to be perfectly fine?!” My dad roared. Amidst my anger, a wave of pity washed over me. His life had indeed been bitter. Perhaps it was the decades of misery that had twisted him into this monster. Trembling, I opened my arms, wanting to hug my dad, wanting to repair this broken father-son relationship. “Dad, everyone’s body is different.” “I’ll take you to a specialist. We can slowly get you treated, okay?” My dad opened his arms too. I thought he was going to hug me, to accept my peace offering. But I was dead wrong. In the next second, my dad raised his foot and violently kicked me straight in the groin. He used all his strength, stomping on me repeatedly. “To hell with your ‘different bodies’! You just had it easy, enjoying all the luxury!” “I became a useless wreck just to raise you. If the father is a wreck, the son must be one too!” My dad stood over me, panting heavily, the tip of his shoe stained with my blood. That kick had landed directly on my most sensitive part with maximum force. My vision went black from the agonizing pain, and I collapsed onto the floor, curling into a ball. I looked down; my inner thigh was already swollen, bruised a horrific shade of purple and red. To make me just like him, my dad was actually trying to castrate me. Enough. This was enough. As if the pain and despair weren’t enough, my dad raised his foot again, preparing to stomp down once more. In absolute terror and despair, I screamed for help: “Chloe!” Chloe burst through the door, horrified by the bloody scene. She flew to my side. I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Clutching my bleeding groin, I blacked out. In the hospital, Chloe held my hand, her voice trembling with lingering fear: “Don’t worry, Ethan, you’re going to be okay.” “Your dad is insane. I’m already looking into some reputable psychiatric facilities. We are cutting him off after this.” I nodded in agreement. When we returned home from the hospital, we found my dad sitting in our living room. I instantly regretted ever giving him a spare key to our apartment. Seeing my hospital gown, my dad rolled his eyes in annoyance: “I didn’t even go to the hospital when I chopped off my finger at work, and you ran to the ER over a little scratch? Why do you get to go to the hospital?” “Chloe, you need to control him. Going to the hospital is a waste of money. He has absolutely no backbone!” My already shattered heart stabbed with pain once more. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. My dad happily got up to answer it. He respectfully welcomed a young man inside. The guy was young and handsome, dressed in flashy clubwear, with his eight-pack abs faintly visible through his semi-sheer shirt. Chloe and I exchanged a confused look. 4 Like presenting a prize, my dad pushed the young man toward Chloe with a sly grin: “Chloe, this is Justin. The personal assistant I hired for you guys.” “Look at him, he’s fit and capable. Isn’t he a million times better than that pale, sickly husband of yours?” Justin licked his lips and gave a suggestive, charming smirk. I stared at them coldly, my heart dropping into a bottomless ice cave. My dad was doing it again. Just because my mother cheated during her pregnancy, he was hell-bent on making my wife cheat too. Before I could even lose my temper, Chloe’s face darkened, and she began pushing them out: “Dressed like that? Does he look like he’s here to do housework?” “Arthur, I will hire a professional service myself. As for this ‘gentleman,’ please take him and leave immediately.” With that, Chloe shoved them toward the door. But my dad was stubborn. He grabbed the doorframe, refusing to budge. He gave Chloe a highly suggestive look: “Oh, Justin is very ‘capable’ in more ways than one!” “You have to give him a one-day trial. If he really is useless, I’ll take him away. But you can’t judge a book by its cover and rob this poor young man of a job opportunity!” Justin also blinked his large, puppy-dog eyes and pleaded in a deep, sultry voice: “If I don’t find a job soon, my family is going to sell me to offshore illegal casinos to pay off their debts.” “Chloe, Ethan, please, just give me a chance!” My head was throbbing from their badgering. Fine. It was just one day. What could they possibly do in twenty-four hours? If they refused to leave tomorrow, I would just call the police. Seeing my silent compliance, my dad and Justin exchanged a knowing smile. Though they smiled brightly, a chill ran down my spine. The next morning, I woke up to find the bed beside me empty. I called out Chloe’s name, but there was no response… until I checked the guest bedroom. Chloe and Justin were lying in bed together, completely naked. Their faces were flushed, their bodies tangled in an extremely intimate position. Even with my eyes closed, I could guess what had happened. An overwhelming wave of agony crashed over me. I roared in fury, grabbing a glass mug from the nightstand and smashing it onto the floor. My dad walked in, looking at me with absolute triumph, as if he had just won the lottery. “Your mother cheated when she was pregnant, so why shouldn’t your wife?” “Hmph, I had to live with a cheating whore my whole life, why do you get to have a perfect woman like Chloe? Now look at you, your wife is a cheater too.” My dad grabbed my arm: “Come on, don’t embarrass yourself here. Stop ruining their post-sex bliss.” “Divorce Chloe. I’ll introduce you to a woman who is actually a perfect match for you. I think Scarlett would be great.” I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat feeling like a razor blade. I knew Scarlett. She had been married five times, divorcing each husband immediately after taking their money. She had had countless abortions, and she even had a severe, incurable STI! I thought my dad was just jealous of me. This wasn’t jealousy. This was pure, unadulterated hatred! He hated seeing me happy, and he only felt joy when I was dragged down into the mud. My eyes fell upon a bottle of heavy-duty liquid aphrodisiac sitting on the corner of the table. My heart seized. To force my wife to cheat, my dad had actually resorted to drugging her. I violently shook off my dad’s hand, casting away the very last shred of familial affection I had left. Unlocking my phone, I dialed 911: “Yes, I’d like to report a crime. Someone has been poisoned and physically assaulted. The address is…”

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After my wife reached a seven-figure salary, she put me in her slide presentation of life shames during her speech at the annual industry summit. On the massive screen, she projected photos of me wearing an apron, frying fish, and kneeling on the floor scrubbing the toilet. Next to the photos, she wrote in bold, humiliating letters: “A depreciating asset!” “A stumbling block to progress!” “An obstacle that must be cleared on the road to success!” In an instant, I became the laughingstock of the entire venue. But what she didn’t know was that I used to be a legendary algorithm genius in the tech world. I only hid my brilliance and returned to the kitchen because I loved her. Now, this marriage? I’m done with it. My wife, Vivian, was giving a keynote speech titled “My Decade” at the prestigious Annual Tech & Industry Summit. The presentation slides had finally reached the “Acknowledgments” section. I remembered her telling me last night that she wanted to give me a special thank-you today. I secretly wondered if she would show a sweet couple photo of us. However, the first slide popped up. It was a photo of me wearing a grease-stained apron, looking messy and flustered while frying fish. Giggles and whispers immediately rippled from the back rows. Then, the second photo appeared. It was a shot of my back as I knelt on one knee, scrubbing the toilet bowl. The angle was awkward, making me look incredibly submissive, as if I were worshiping the toilet. The entire hall erupted into laughter. And there I was, sitting in the front row, invited as the “supportive spouse.” The camera panned to my face, which had gone completely pale. I could clearly hear the whispers from the seats next to me. “Is that Vivian’s house husband? The one living off her?” “No wonder she’s so successful. She cut off the dead weight to fly higher.” “It couldn’t have been easy for Vivian, climbing to the top with a useless drag like him.” The voices were loud. They wanted me to hear them. I froze in my seat, feeling every gaze in the room burning into my skin like flashlights. On stage, Vivian looked radiant, her voice confident and sharp. “In the career growth phase, we must learn to subtract. We have to identify and clear out the burdens that slow us down…” For the next ten minutes, she dissected my daily chores—cooking, cleaning, taking care of our daughter—as if they were corporate business cases. Sunk cost, opportunity cost, negative return on investment… Every business term she used felt like a cold knife twisting in my heart. The audience erupted in thunderous applause as her speech ended. Vivian smiled and bowed gracefully on stage, basking in the spotlight. She was glowing. Meanwhile, I slouched my shoulders and quietly walked out of the hall, blending into the shadows. When I got home, I sat on the dark sofa. I didn’t turn on the lights. I just stared at the silhouettes of the furniture in the silence. We had been married for five years. When Vivian said she wanted to push for her career, I said okay, I’ll handle the home. When she said she hated chores, I said okay, I’ll do them. When she said having a baby would ruin her career path, I said okay, I’ll raise Lily. I thought this was a partnership. I thought this was what a family was supposed to be. Only today did I realize that in her eyes, I was just a parasite, a “depreciating asset” holding her back. The front door clicked open. Vivian stumbled in, smelling of alcohol. Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes still held the excitement of her big night. She flipped the light switch and frowned when she saw me. “Leo, why are you just sitting there in the dark? Go make me a black coffee. I have a massive hangover.” I didn’t move. I just stared at her. “Vivian, what am I to you, really?” Vivian pushed past me impatiently. “Leo, what is your problem now?” “Today’s slides. Those photos. Those words.” I questioned her, my voice trembling but steady. “In your heart, I’m just a burden, aren’t I?” Vivian turned around, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. I knew that posture. It was her negotiation stance, the one she used when dealing with difficult clients. “Leo, today was the biggest day of my career. I don’t want to fight. Those were just case studies for the presentation. I needed them for the stage effect.” I let out a dry laugh. “Case studies? Using photos of your husband scrubbing toilets as a joke?” “What did you want me to do?” Vivian raised her voice. “Show a cheesy couple photo? Tell everyone my success is because I have a great husband? Who would buy that in our industry?” She walked closer, her breath smelling of wine. “Leo, this is my moment. Can you please not ruin it?” I looked at her, suddenly feeling like she was a complete stranger. The woman who had shared my bed for five years was someone I didn’t know at all. “So, to you, I really am just a negative asset that needs to be cleared out of your way?” Vivian went silent for a few seconds. “So what if you are? What if you aren’t? Leo, grow up, will you?” She turned and walked toward the bedroom. “I’m exhausted. I have a meeting with investors tomorrow.” The bedroom door slammed shut. I stood up and went into the study. At the very bottom of the bookshelf, there was a dusty cardboard box. I pulled it out and opened it. Inside were relics of my past life: my collegiate coding championship medals, a faded team photo, and an old black phone. I plugged it into a charger. As soon as the screen lit up, a five-year-old text message popped up. “Leo, are you really not joining us? Name your price. The offer stands.” The sender was Cole Sterling—the man who was now the billionaire founder of the tech giant Apex Tech.

Five years ago, Cole’s company was just a team of five people, including me, operating out of a cramped rented apartment. He had told me we were going to change the world. But I had told him I was getting married, and Vivian needed me. Cole had tried to convince me. “Leo, think about it. Opportunities like this only come once in a lifetime.” I had replied without hesitation, “A marriage also only comes once.” He had been silent for a long time before replying, “Alright. But I will always keep a spot open for you. Come back whenever you’re ready.” Later, his company, Apex Tech, became a global tech giant. And I became the pathetic back profile scrubbing a toilet on a slide screen. After a moment of hesitation, I dialed his number. It rang only once before it was picked up. “Hello?” Cole’s voice came through, sounding slightly tired but alert. “Cole, it’s me. Leo.” The other end went dead silent. A few seconds later, Cole’s voice exploded with disbelief and excitement. “Leo?! Is that really you?” “Yeah, it’s me.” “Man! You finally woke up!” Cole’s voice sounded like fireworks. “The shares I promised you back then? I’ve kept them untouched. Where are you? Tomorrow—no, right now, I’ll send a car to fetch you. We’re actually stuck on a major security protocol loop right now, and your brain is exactly what we need…” He talked incredibly fast, his familiar passion warming my cold heart. My eyes grew misty. “Cole, I can’t come over just yet,” I interrupted him, my voice a bit raspy. “Why?” Cole’s excitement died down, replaced by confusion. “I need to handle some personal stuff first. But you can send me the files of that security loop. I’ll take a look.” “Awesome!” Cole didn’t ask further. “Leo, with you on this, we’re already halfway to solving it!” Minutes later, the data was transferred to my laptop. The dense code, the complex architecture… it was so familiar, like riding a bike. For the next three days, life went on as usual. I took Lily to preschool, did the groceries, cooked, and cleaned. Vivian still left early and came home late, completely absorbed in her work. We barely spoke. The atmosphere in the house was colder than living with a stranger. But during the late nights when Lily was asleep, and in the brief pockets of time between chores, my brain was running at maximum speed. On the third night, I sent a security patch and a detailed analysis report to Cole. A few minutes later, Cole called back, his voice cracking with pure excitement. “Holy shit, Leo! You’re a freaking god! Not only did you patch the leak, but you optimized the entire defense logic! My senior devs are literally staring at your code right now like it’s a miracle!” Listening to his praise, I managed a small smile. But my heart was surprisingly calm. It felt like I had just done something as natural as breathing. “Send me your bank account details. I’ll wire your payment.” I hesitated for a second, then agreed. I needed the money now. Not to prove anything, but to buy back my own life. Soon, my phone buzzed with a bank notification: $5,000,000 had been deposited. I gasped. I called Cole back. “Cole, this is too much. It was just a patch.” “Too much?” Cole yelled through the phone. “Leo, do you know how many millions we would lose a day if our competitors exploited that bug? It’s easily double this amount. I actually feel like five million is insulting your genius. Just take it, or I’ll be pissed!” After hanging up, I stared at the long string of zeros. For the first time, I realized how ridiculous my five years of “sacrifice” had been. Vivian had worked her ass off for five years to reach a million-dollar salary. And I had made three times her annual income in just three days, in the middle of doing chores and raising our kid. With the money, I started to change. First, I went to a high-end boutique and got myself a few tailored suits. I joined a premium gym, hired a personal trainer, and started working out again. I also bought a luxury watch—a brand only true connoisseurs would recognize. When I stood in the living room looking completely transformed, Vivian was visibly stunned. She looked me up and down, her eyes lingering on my watch for a second before she let out a mocking laugh. “Leo, since when did you care about brand names? Wearing a fake watch out? Aren’t you afraid of getting laughed at? What, having a midlife crisis and trying to feel important?” Her words were like cold needles, but they couldn’t pierce the emotional armor I had built over the last few days. However, the real blow came without warning. A few days later, I was playing with Lily at the community playground until a bit late. As we walked back, I saw a black Mercedes-Maybach parked near our building. Vivian got out of the passenger seat. From the driver’s seat came a wealthy-looking, middle-aged man. The man naturally reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Vivian’s ear. Then, they shared a brief, intimate hug. It was a gesture too practiced to be their first time. The man drove off. Vivian turned around with a lingering smile on her face, which instantly froze when she saw me standing in the shadows. A flash of panic crossed her face, but she quickly masked it with her usual defensive attitude. “My company is bidding for a massive contract worth over a hundred million dollars,” she said defensively. “That was Robert, the head of the procurement committee. In business, sometimes you have to play the game.” I didn’t say a word. I just watched the tail lights of the Maybach disappear. At that moment, the very last spark of hesitation in my heart died. If that’s how it is, Vivian, let me show you what you’ve actually thrown away and trampled on. The “depreciating asset” who only knew how to clean toilets in your eyes is about to become the mountain you will never be able to climb.

I pulled out my phone and sent a Snapchat message to Cole. “Help me look up Starlight Corp’s biggest bidding project recently, and find out what technical issues they are facing.” Starlight Corp was Vivian’s company, a publicly-traded electronics manufacturer. Within two hours, Cole sent me a highly detailed report. The report showed that while Starlight Corp looked successful on the outside, they were under massive pressure. Their revenue and net profit had plummeted over the past year, and their stock price was tanking. They desperately needed a win to restore investor confidence. The multi-million smart IoT terminal project from Omni Group was their holy grail. It wasn’t just a lucrative contract; more importantly, Starlight wanted to secure a long-term partnership with a giant like Omni Group. The core requirement of the bid was to design a smart management system that could seamlessly integrate with Omni’s standards while maintaining flawless quality control. Starlight’s tech team had been working day and night, but they couldn’t solve the integration lag. On top of that, another company was eyeing the project. Vance Technologies, a smaller but highly innovative firm. However, Vance Tech was also stuck on the exact same technical bottleneck. I closed the file and leaned back, closing my eyes to think. Since Starlight and Vivian had bet their entire future on this, I would strike them exactly where they were weakest—their technology. Once my plan was set, I contacted Cole again and asked him to introduce me to Marcus Vance, the CEO of Vance Technologies. Cole’s efficiency was unmatched. The next afternoon, I met Marcus Vance in a private VIP room of an exclusive club. I didn’t waste time on small talk. I pushed a technical proposal across the table. It contained the exact solution for the Omni Group project. Marcus, having a strong engineering background himself, scanned the paper. I watched his expression go from skepticism to absolute shock. He sat straight up, his eyes wide. “Mr. Miller… this is genius! This system doesn’t just solve the compatibility issue; it increases the overall efficiency by twenty percent! How did you develop this so quickly?” I replied calmly, “How I did it doesn’t matter. What matters is, can this proposal win you the Omni Group contract?” “Yes! Absolutely!” Marcus said, his voice shaking with excitement. He looked at me eagerly. “Mr. Miller, please join Vance Tech. The Chief Technology Officer position is yours. We can start at a million-dollar base salary plus stock options!” It was an offer that would tempt anyone, but I shook my head. “Thank you, Mr. Vance, but I have no interest in joining full-time. However, I can act as your special technical consultant for this project to help your team implement it.” “I have only one condition: my identity must remain strictly confidential until the contract is signed.” Marcus nodded vigorously. “Deal. I’ll personally handle the NDA. Having you on our side is the best thing that ever happened to Vance Tech.” On the day of the bidding event, I arrived early and sat in a quiet, dimly lit corner at the back of the auditorium. Vivian, representing Starlight Corp, was the lead presenter. She wore a sharp white suit, her makeup was flawless, and she exuded authority. She stood on stage, demonstrating her polished slides and explaining Starlight’s solution. Her delivery was perfect, her data was solid, and her confident aura had the judges and Omni Group executives nodding in approval. Everything seemed to be going exactly as she had planned. Until the Q&A session. Marcus Vance raised his hand. He took the microphone and skipped the pleasantries, pointing directly at a flaw in Vivian’s presentation. “Vivian, your high-concurrency data solution might look good on paper, but under real-world testing, it will cause severe latency on Omni’s assembly lines.” The question was highly technical and sharp. Vivian’s face paled for a fraction of a second, but she quickly forced a bright smile. She adjusted her headset and responded smoothly. “Thank you, Marcus. Our team actually anticipated that risk. We have designed a three-tier dynamic buffer to handle it. In our industry right now, this is the absolute best solution available.” Vivian’s quick thinking was impressive, and she quickly regained control of the room. But Marcus just smiled, a sharp edge in his eyes. “The best solution? I beg to differ. Ladies and gentlemen, Vance Tech has developed a brand-new system architecture. It doesn’t just fix the latency; it boosts overall system efficiency by over twenty percent. I’d like to invite our special technical consultant to explain the details.” A murmur ran through the crowd. Vivian’s brow furrowed, a trace of anxiety flickering in her eyes. But mostly, she looked annoyed. She didn’t believe Vance Tech could have a better solution, let alone some random “consultant.” Under the spotlight, I slowly stood up, straightened my suit jacket, and walked toward the stage under a sea of curious eyes.

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At the Thanksgiving dinner table, my mom slid the best piece of garlic butter lobster onto my plate—Audrey’s favorite. She smiled, but her eyes were heavy with expectation. “Coco, Julian has been mourning your sister for three years now. And now that you’re finally back home…” She hesitated, looking at my dad before continuing. “We think it’s time. You two should get married.” My dad nodded in solemn agreement. I froze. Across the table, Julian—my first love, my sister’s husband, my brother-in-law—kept his head down. He was silently, meticulously cracking open another lobster claw. He didn’t say no. My fork hovered in mid-air. I stared at Julian sitting right across from me. My first love. My sister’s widower. He kept cracking the shell, acting as if he hadn’t heard a single word. When the sweet, pink meat came free in one perfect piece, he placed it gently on my plate. Then he reached for another claw and started again. From beginning to end, he never looked up. He never said a word. He didn’t say no. My dad raised his glass, his face already flushed from the wine. “You’re both not getting any younger. You know each other’s families inside out. Back when Audrey…” He paused, swallowing the painful memory. “Now that you two are here, this is the best way to move forward. It’s what Audrey would have wanted.” Hearing those words, I dropped my fork. It hit the porcelain plate with a sharp, echoing clink. “I’m full.” “Coco—” my mom called out, her voice pleading. I didn’t look back. I walked straight into my room and slammed the door. The walls in this old house were paper-thin. Thin enough for me to hear my mom’s heavy sigh from the hallway. “That girl… the older she gets, the more stubborn she becomes.” My dad’s low voice followed. “Don’t rush her. We’ll take it slow. At least Julian agreed.” But there was no sound from Julian. Not a single word. I leaned my back against the door, slowly sliding down until I was sitting on the cold hardwood floor. Audrey had only been gone for three years. On this night meant for family reunion, my parents couldn’t wait to hand me Audrey’s husband, Audrey’s estate, and Audrey’s life. They wanted to “transfer” her existence to me, all to construct some sick, fake version of a happy ending. Even this bedroom was exactly the same as it was seven years ago. On the bookshelf sat three framed photos: a picture of Audrey and me laughing, a candid shot of Julian and me by the high school basketball courts, and their wedding portrait. She was wearing a stunning white gown, her veil catching the wind. Julian was looking down at her, his eyes filled with endless warmth. But… that was supposed to be my wedding. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Emily, my assistant back in New York: “Hey Chloe, a huge opportunity just popped up. The London branch is desperately looking for a Project Director. The headhunter wants to hop on a call with you.” Below the text was a PDF link and a contact number. I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over the glass. Outside, I heard quiet footsteps stop right before my door. Three gentle knocks. “Coco,” Julian’s voice came through the wood, soft and hesitant. “I warmed up some milk for you.” I stayed silent. He waited for a moment. “I’m leaving it by the door. Get some rest.” His footsteps faded away. I waited a long time before finally opening the door. Sure enough, a mug was sitting on the floor. The milk was still warm, a thin film forming on the surface. I picked it up, walked straight to the kitchen, and poured the white liquid down the drain. As I turned around, I almost collided with Julian. He had been standing in the doorway the whole time. Wearing a gray sweatshirt, his tall frame looked incredibly thin under the dim kitchen light. His gaze fell on the empty mug in my hand, then slowly drifted up to meet my eyes. “Why didn’t you drink it?” “I don’t like milk anymore,” I said, setting the mug on the counter. “I got used to black coffee in New York.” His lips pressed into a tight line, a nervous habit that made him look suddenly defenseless. “We need to talk,” he said. “About what? About how you and my parents planned to ‘give’ me to you?” I spat the words out, letting the sarcasm cut deep. Julian’s face went pale. He stepped inside and shut the kitchen door, shutting us off from the living room. “Your parents are just… they’re getting old, Chloe—” “So I have to sacrifice my life to keep them happy? To give them a show?” “That’s not what I meant.” He reached his hand out, wanting to touch my shoulder, but froze halfway and let it drop. “Coco, I know you’re angry. But can you just…” “Julian,” I interrupted, my voice cold. “We ended years ago. There is nothing left between us.” His eyes snapped up, wide and searching. “But Audrey—” “Don’t bring up my sister,” my voice began to tremble. “This is between us. Don’t use her as your shield.” Julian fell silent for a long time. He stared down at his hands—hands that had once clumsily braided my hair, hands that had later worn a wedding band and held my sister’s hand. “I just… I don’t want to lose any more family,” he finally whispered. Looking at him, a wave of exhaustion hit me. “Julian, the day you chose Audrey was the day you and I became impossible.” His eyes brimmed with red, but he didn’t say another word. I brushed past him and opened the kitchen door. In the living room, my parents had already cleared the table. The TV was still on, playing reruns of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. The cheerful music and canned applause felt incredibly mocking. I walked straight back to my room, shut the door, and this time, I locked it. I pulled out my phone, tapped the headhunter’s number, and typed two words: “I’m interested.” Sent.

The next morning, I stood in the middle of my room. Looking at this space that hadn’t changed in a decade, I felt a sudden urge to reclaim my life. I unzipped my suitcase and began hanging my clothes in the closet—strictly on my side. My sharp-cut blazers, silk blouses, and cashmere coats hung right next to Audrey’s soft, pastel cardigans. Then, I turned to the bookshelf. I grabbed a stack of my old college textbooks and walked to the living room. My mom looked up from the kitchen. “You throwing those out?” “Yeah.” “Oh, what a waste…” She walked over, flipping through a textbook on advanced accounting. “These cost a fortune.” “They’re taking up space,” I replied. My mom didn’t push. Her eyes just went a little dim. Back in my room, the shelf was half-empty. I knelt down and looked at the bottom shelf. Those were Audrey’s books. A few medical journals, some classic novels, and several thick, leather-bound notebooks. I pulled one out. It had a dark blue cover, the edges worn thin. Embossed on the front were the words: Hospital Residency Journal. I hesitated, then opened it. The first entry was from eight years ago. “March 12. Sunny. Today was my first solo night shift. A patient with severe cardiac arrest came in at 2:00 AM. We tried resuscitating him for an hour, but we lost him. His family was screaming and crying outside. I hid in the breakroom and cried, too. My supervisor said I’m too emotional to be a doctor. But if I can’t even cry, how can I truly feel my patients’ pain?” I flipped forward. “May 20. Overcast. My little sister called today. She got accepted for an exchange program in New York. I’m so incredibly happy for her, but I feel a little left behind. She’s flying so high and so far, while I’ll probably be stuck in this small town forever. Julian tells me I’m silly. He says everyone has their own path. But…” The entry ended abruptly after “But.” There was a small, faded watermark on the paper, where a tear had once smeared the ink. I kept reading. The entries became sporadic, sometimes with months in between. Then, the date jumped to five years ago. “February 14. Snowing. I got the diagnosis today. Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis. ALS. Lou Gehrig’s disease. The doctor said there is no cure. I asked him how long I have left. He said three to five years. When I left the clinic, I sat on the hallway bench for a whole hour. Snow drifted in through the open window, melting cold against my hand.” The handwriting here was shaky, the pen pressing so hard in some places that it tore the paper. My fingers began to go numb. “February 28. Cloudy. I finally told Mom and Dad. Mom cried all night, and Dad smoked one cigarette after another. I didn’t tell Chloe. She’s writing her graduation thesis. I can’t let her lose her focus. Julian came to see me. He swore that no matter what happens, he will stand by me. I held him and sobbed, but all I could think was: What about Chloe? When she finds out, will she hate me?” “March 15. Sunny. I made a very selfish decision today. Julian came to the hospital. I had a sudden panic attack and couldn’t breathe. He was terrified, his eyes completely bloodshot. I grabbed his hand and begged him: ‘Julian, I’m scared. Please… don’t leave me.’ He said okay. He promised he’d never leave. I knew it was a promise born of pity, but I chose to believe it. Because I am so, so terrified of dying alone.” There was a gap of almost ten months after that. The next entry was in the fall. “September 3. Windy. Chloe emailed me today. She got a job offer at Columbia University. She is amazing. I lay in my hospital bed, crying tears of pride and grief. Julian asked me why I was crying. I told him I didn’t know. But I did. I was mourning the dream of standing on the streets of New York with her—a dream that will never come true.” “September 20. Overcast. I had a nightmare. I dreamed Chloe came back, stood over my hospital bed, and screamed at me for stealing Julian. I woke up shaking. Julian was asleep beside my bed, holding my hand with the IV drip. Looking at his face, I realized that the two people I’ve hurt the most in this lifetime are the ones right beside me.” “October 5. Light rain. The disease is progressing fast. My fingers are stopping to work. This might be my last entry. Chloe, if you ever find this notebook, please don’t forgive me. I was a terrible sister, a terrible daughter, and a terrible lover. But I was just… so afraid of going into the dark alone.” The very last page had no date. There was only one sentence, written in a jagged, barely legible scrawl: “I hope my little sister flies high and flies far. Never look back.”

I closed the journal. Outside, the afternoon sun was bright and warm, but I felt freezing cold. A soft knock came from the door. “Coco,” my mom’s voice was gentle. “I cut up some fruit. Come have some?” I took a deep breath, slid the journal back onto the bottom shelf, and opened the door. My mom was standing there with a plate of neatly sliced apples and oranges. Her eyes wandered past me to the bookshelf. “Clearing things out?” “Yeah.” “Your sister’s books…” She hesitated. “Do you want to pack them up?” I stared into her eyes. “Mom, you and Dad knew about Audrey’s diagnosis from the very beginning, didn’t you?” The warm smile on her face froze. The plate in her hands trembled, an apple slice sliding to the edge. She walked into my room, set the plate on my desk, and stood with her back to me for a long time. “We knew.” “Audrey begged us not to tell you. She didn’t want to ruin your future in New York.” “And Julian?” I asked, my voice cracking. “When did he find out?” My mom turned around, her eyes instantly red. “Right after she was diagnosed. That boy… he sat in the hospital hallway all night. The next morning, his eyes were so swollen he could barely open them. He told us he would take responsibility.” “Responsibility?” “Coco, don’t blame him,” my mom begged, grabbing my hands. “Your sister… she was in a dark place. If Julian hadn’t been there, she wouldn’t have survived those years. He gave her peace.” I pulled my hands back slowly. “I don’t blame him.” I just finally understood what Julian meant when he said, “I just don’t want to lose any more family.” To him, Audrey’s illness, her death, and my parents’ aging grief were chains wrapping tightly around him. And my return was just another chain. That evening at dinner, my mom suddenly put down her fork and went into her bedroom. When she came out, she was holding a faded cream-colored envelope. The edges were completely frayed. “Audrey left this for you,” she said, her voice immediately thick with tears. “I never found the right time to give it to you.” I took the envelope. Julian stopped eating. He stared at the paper, his throat muscles tightening, but he remained silent. “You guys keep eating. I’ll read it in my room.” “Just read it here,” my mom pleaded. “We’re all family anyway—” “Mom,” I cut her off, my tone leaving no room for argument. Back in my room, I sat on the edge of my bed for a long time before carefully tearing open the envelope. Inside was a stack of letter paper, about ten pages long, covered in Audrey’s handwriting. It started neat and organized, but toward the end, the letters became jagged and distorted. “Chloe, If you’re reading this, I’m already gone. I’m sorry for writing this. I never had the courage to tell you to your face—but Julian’s choice back then wasn’t his. I forced him into it.” My hands began to shake. “The day I got my diagnosis, my mind went completely blank. The doctor said three to five years, and the only thought in my head was: I’m going to die. I was only twenty-six. I had so much left to do. And then, I thought of Julian. I know it was pathetic. But when you’re facing death, you become a monster of selfishness.” I took a deep, shaky breath and kept reading. “Those three years of marriage were the most painful, yet happiest years of my life. Painful because of the ALS, happy because of him. Julian was a perfect husband. He took care of my every need, did physical therapy with me, read me poetry, and held my hand through the night when the pain was too much to bear. But I knew he wasn’t happy. So many nights, I’d wake up to find his side of the bed cold. I’d crawl to the window and see him standing on the balcony, smoking in the moonlight, looking so incredibly lonely. Once, I overheard him on the phone with your university advisor, asking how you were doing in America, making sure you had everything you needed. After he hung up, he stood on that balcony until dawn. That’s when I realized what a horrible thing I had done. Chloe, if you hate me, I understand. You should. I stole your first love. I stole the years that belonged to you. But please… don’t hate Julian. He’s just a fool trapped by his own sense of duty, a coward who was too afraid to admit where his heart truly belonged. He didn’t marry me because of love. He married me because of a wicked, desperate trap I laid that night.”

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I was born with a feral desire. As the only daughter of the Silvervein Pack’s Alpha, my instincts demanded a high-intensity, deeply matched mate. Ordinary wolves couldn’t handle my passion. I needed someone who could match my hunger. When it came to choosing a mate, I chose Silas. He was the younger brother of the deceased Alpha of the Shadowspine Pack, and the next in line to lead. He was just as wild as me, and in bed, we were a perfect match. I had expected our mating to be full of endless, breathless nights. But three months into our marriage, we had barely finished a single night together. Every single time we got close, we were interrupted. And the person interrupting us was always Sienna. She was the widow of Silas’s late brother, Mason. For the twentieth time, right when things were heating up in the middle of the night, Silas’s phone rang. It was Sienna. “Silas, the power went out at the villa. It’s pitch black, and I’m scared to be alone.” I wrapped my legs tight around Silas’s waist, trying to suppress the anger that had been building up for months. “Silas, don’t you dare leave tonight.” But he was already pulling away, grabbing his clothes and dressing quickly. He looked at me like I was being unreasonable. “My brother just passed away. Sienna is still drowning in grief. I have to be there for her. I need to help her through this.” I watched him walk out. He didn’t even look back. This time, I didn’t try to stop him. Three days later, I slammed the divorce papers right in front of him. “We are done. If you can’t satisfy me, don’t waste my time. I’ll find an Alpha who can.”

Silas and I had been in a cold war for two full months before I finally agreed to give him another chance. Two months of built-up tension and hunger erupted like wildfire the moment we touched. We were tangled in the sheets, lost in each other. But just as we reached the point of no return, his personal phone started buzzing relentlessly. I tried to ignore it. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, my voice thick with heat. “Silas… forget the phone.” But no amount of passion could drown out that ringtone. The heat in Silas’s eyes vanished. He pushed me off him, sat up, and answered the call. My body was still burning, and I glared at him with pure resentment. Sienna’s sweet, whiny voice drifted from the speaker. “Silas, the power went out at the cabin… I’m so scared of the dark…” Without a second thought, Silas started putting on his pants. Unsatisfied and furious, I grabbed him from behind, holding him tight. “Silas, it’s just a phone call. Can’t it wait? Do you really have to leave right now?” He peeled my hands off him, one finger at a time. Then, he calmly buttoned his shirt, covering the marks we had just left on each other. His voice was cold and distant. “Willa, you know the situation. Mason is barely in his grave. I can’t just abandon his widow.” I snapped. “Silas! The Shadowspine Pack has dozens of guards and maids! Why can’t she call any of them? She calls you on the nights she knows I’m exhausted, and she finds an excuse every single night. Don’t you see how suspicious that is? Why is it always late at night? Why is it always right when we are together?” “Shut up!” Silas’s face darkened instantly. His eyes were cold and foreign. “Stop making up these ridiculous stories.” I stared at his tense face. For the first time, this man I had loved for seven years felt like a complete stranger. Seeing the anger in my eyes, his expression softened slightly. He tried to soothe me. “Don’t worry, this is the last time. My mother is already on her way to stay with her. I’ll just go check on them and come straight back.” Silas walked out, leaving me alone in the silent room. As I cooled down, things started to feel wrong. Silas had a high sex drive, just like me. During our first month of marriage, we were interrupted constantly. Then we had a cold war for two months with zero touch. By all logic, tonight should have been wild and uncontrollable. Yet, the moment he got that call, he checked out instantly. He left without a single regret. A horrible realization gripped my chest: His desires were already being satisfied elsewhere. I jumped out of bed, intending to follow him, but a text from Silas popped up on my phone. “The stairs had a wiring issue. Sienna tripped in the dark and sprained her ankle. My mother and I are taking her to the medical clinic. I won’t be home tonight.” I drove straight to the medical clinic. The hallway outside the room was empty. Elaine was nowhere to be seen. Through the small window of the dimly lit room, I saw Sienna. Her face was buried in Silas’s neck, crying softly, her body pressed tight against his. Silas was leaning down, his lips almost brushing her ear, whispering something to her. This was the twentieth time. Every time we got intimate, she interrupted. Every time I followed him, I saw this exact kind of boundary-crossing behavior. There was a reason Silas protected Sienna so blindly. Six months ago, during a pack gathering near the lake, Silas had fallen into the deep water. Mason had jumped in to save him and drowned. At that time, Sienna was heavily pregnant. Only days after the burial, she gave birth to a baby boy. She became the respected widow of the pack, and everyone walked on eggshells around her. At first, I understood Silas’s guilt. I thought helping his brother’s widow and child was the right thing to do. I never complained. Until our wedding night. That was when I realized Sienna’s intentions were far from innocent.

We had just gotten into bed, the heat rising in the bathroom, when she knocked frantically on our door wearing a sheer, lace nightgown. “Silas, the baby has a high fever! He won’t stop crying, and I don’t know what to do!” Without saying a word, Silas got dressed and rushed her and the baby to the clinic. Though I was upset, I tried to be understanding. She was a grieving single mother. I swallowed my frustration and followed them. But when I reached the hospital room, the scene made my chest tight. Sienna was practically hanging off Silas, weeping dramatically. “Silas, if anything happens to the baby, I won’t be able to face Mason in the afterlife.” Silas comforted her gently, over and over. “Don’t worry, I’m here.” They were too close. Their body language was intimate, crossing every boundary of what was acceptable between a brother-in-law and a widow. My female instinct told me she wanted him. After that night, Sienna invaded our lives completely. During the day, when Silas was busy with pack business, she stayed in her room and never showed her face to me. But the moment Silas came home, she would change into revealing clothes, lingering in the hallways and courtyard, trying to catch his eye. On many mornings, right when Silas and I were waking up and getting intimate, she would barge into our bedroom under the pretense of “cleaning,” just standing there staring at us. Even worse, she never covered herself when breastfeeding the baby if Silas was in the room. It sickened me. I dropped hints to her to keep some boundaries, but she either pretended not to understand or immediately started crying, making me look like the bully. I got tired of it. I told Silas about my discomfort multiple times, but he always dismissed it, saying I was just being paranoid and jealous. One night, Silas was out late for a pack meeting and didn’t return. I got up at midnight to get some water and passed her bedroom. I heard her clear, breathless voice from inside, whispering his name over and over. “Silas… oh, Silas…” It was filled with pure lust. I stood there, feeling physically sick. Once I was sure of her dirty thoughts, I demanded we move out or get a divorce. But Silas accused me of making trouble out of nothing. “We have a perfect house. What are you throwing a fit for now?” I didn’t have solid evidence, so I couldn’t voice my wild suspicions. I had to swallow my anger. But my silence only made Sienna bolder. She figured out my cycle and stayed quiet during the days she knew Silas and I wouldn’t be intimate. But every other night, she found a reason to call him. “Silas, the bathroom pipe burst.” “Silas, the heater is broken. It’s freezing.” “Silas, my chest feels tight, I feel so sick…” Every single night. Finally, I snapped and confronted her face-to-face. “Sienna, Silas is my mate. He is the next Alpha of the Shadowspine Pack. He is not your personal plumber or your doctor. If something breaks or you feel sick, call the pack maintenance or the pack doctor.” Sienna bit her lip, her eyes pooling with tears, looking incredibly victimized. Silas immediately yelled at me. “What is wrong with you? I told you, she just lost her husband. What is wrong with me helping her? Even if you’re jealous, have some decency!” “Fine. I won’t be jealous anymore. You two can live together!” Furious, I packed my bags and drove back to the Silvervein Pack. That was our second major fight in our seven years together. The next day, Silas showed up at my pack house with flowers. He knelt before my parents and the Silvervein elders, swearing he would keep his distance from Sienna. But I refused to forgive him. He came back day after day, sucking up to my family. Even his mother, Elaine, stepped in. She promised she would move in with Sienna, and Silas and I could move into a private villa far away from them. Looking at the man I had loved for seven years, seeing the desperation in his eyes, my heart softened. I remembered our college days. He had jumped in front of a drunk guy to protect me. He had carried me through a thunderstorm to the hospital when I had a severe allergic reaction. Those memories were still so vivid. “This is your last chance,” I told him, taking the flowers. “One more boundary crossed, and we are completely over.”

Although I went back with him, the wall between us remained. I was distant and rarely let him touch me. During that time, Sienna did behave. She kept her distance during family dinners and acted politely. After two months of cold shoulder, our relationship finally started to thaw, and we began to get intimate again. But just as I thought life was getting back to normal, she started her tricks again. It was laughable. The Shadowspine Pack had endless money, maids, drivers, and technicians. Why did a minor issue always require the Alpha to run over in the middle of the night? I had stayed silent the first nineteen times. But this twentieth time, I was done. “Silas.” My voice echoed in the quiet hospital hallway. He looked up, startled. He instantly pushed Sienna away, trying to create distance between them. The fragile smile on Sienna’s face vanished, replaced by a flash of annoyance. “Willa? What are you doing here…” “I came to watch and learn,” I said, letting out a cold laugh. “To watch my mate take such good care of another man’s wife.” Sienna’s face turned pale. She gripped the bedsheets, her voice trembling. “Willa, don’t get the wrong idea. I just fell…” “Fell?” I walked slowly to her bedside, staring down at her. “Tripping down the stairs at 1:00 AM? Right when Silas and I were in bed? What a convenient accident.” Sienna lowered her head, her eyes red, looking like she was about to cry. “Enough! Stop it!” Silas stood up, grabbing my wrist tightly, and dragged me out of the room. His voice was thick with anger. “Are you crazy? My brother has only been dead for six months. Do you have to be this cruel?” “Oh? So you remember she is your brother’s wife? Then why don’t you know how to keep your hands off her?” “There is nothing going on between us! I am just doing my duty to my pack and my brother. I swear to you.” Silas was furious. He pulled me toward the elevator. “Let go of me! You’re hurting me!” I struggled, scratching the back of his hand with my nails. The elevator went straight to the underground garage. Inside the quiet car, only our heavy breathing could be heard. The air was suffocating. He shoved me into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut. After a few seconds of silence, his tone suddenly softened. “Willa, listen to me. Sienna really hurt her ankle. My mother is too old to carry her, so I had to help. That’s all.” “Does helping her require holding her in your arms? Does it require whispering in her ear?” I rubbed my red wrist, looking at him with pure disgust. “Silas, how long are you going to lie to yourself?” “Enough!” He slammed his fist onto the steering wheel, making the horn blare loudly. “Can you stop having such a dirty mind? She is my sister-in-law! My brother died saving my life! What is wrong with me taking care of his widow?” I stared at his red eyes. It was so pathetic. Before I could speak, his phone buzzed. The name “Sienna” flashed on the screen, hurting my eyes. Silas froze. He hesitated for a second, then picked up. After a brief conversation, he looked at me with a complicated expression. “They need to pay the medical fees, and my mother didn’t bring enough cash. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” “So you’re leaving me here alone again?” I leaned back, a mocking smile on my face. “Just ten minutes.” He reached out to touch my face, but I flinched away. “Wait for me in the car. I’ll be right back.” “Get lost,” I said, closing my eyes. The car door opened and closed. His hurried footsteps faded away. The cold wind from the garage crept into the car, making me shiver. I opened my eyes and noticed a spare phone lying under the passenger seat. It was the phone Silas used for private matters. Prompted by some dark instinct, I reached down and picked it up. The screen lit up. The lock screen was a blurry silhouette of a couple holding each other tightly. I entered his usual password. It unlocked. And what I saw on the screen made my blood run cold.

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Ethan missed our engagement party. He missed it to help my best friend, Chloe, rescue a stray dog that had been hit by a car. He told me, “The dog was dying, Hazel. I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.” I believed him. But after that, he started running over to her apartment all the time. His excuse? “The dog only recognizes me. It won’t eat unless I’m there. I can’t just let it starve.” Chloe would roll her eyes in annoyance. “Who asked you to come? I wish it would forget you already.” Every time they met, they bickered. Yet, through all that bickering, he somehow got a spare key to her apartment. He knew exactly how long her water heater had been broken. He knew her menstrual cycle and how she couldn’t sleep from the cramps. He even skipped our second attempt at an engagement party. He sent a text: “The dog is having surgery today. She can’t handle it alone.” At the venue, all our friends and family looked at me with pity as I stood there alone in my gorgeous white dress. I couldn’t take it anymore. I drove straight to Chloe’s apartment. When I pushed the door open, the living room was spotless. It was too clean. There was no dog food, no dog bed, not a single trace of a pet ever living there. Instead, there was a messy pile of clothes—belonging to a man and a woman—thrown over the sofa. In the bathroom, a pair of matching couple’s toothbrushes sat in a cup. And on the fridge, a sticky note was stuck to the door. It was Ethan’s handwriting: Hey dummy, dinner is ready. Remember to eat.

I stared at that sticky note on the fridge for a long time. He cooked for her. Ethan used to tell me that he would only ever cook for his girlfriend. Now, he was cooking for my best friend. Suddenly, the bedroom door opened. Chloe walked out, wearing an oversized grey men’s T-shirt. I recognized it instantly. It was a limited-edition shirt I had waited in line for five hours to buy for Ethan’s birthday last year. Then, it went missing. I had searched everywhere for it. Ethan had shrugged it off, saying, “It’s just a stupid shirt, Hazel. I probably lost it at the gym.” When Chloe saw me, her face drained of color. But quickly, she forced a smile and reached out to grab my hand, just like she always did. “Hazel! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming over?” “I just took a shower. The place is a total mess.” I pulled my hand back. “Where is the dog?” She froze for a microsecond. “At the clinic,” she said smoothly. “I told you, it’s having surgery today.” I looked around the pristine living room. No pet bowls. No toys. No stray hairs. Just the tangled pile of male and female clothes on the sofa. And a pair of men’s boxers hanging on the drying rack on the balcony. Following my gaze, Chloe scrambled for an explanation. “Oh, Ethan got soaked when he helped me take the dog to the vet last time. I just washed his clothes for him.” Her voice softened, turning sweet and pleading. “Hazel, I’m your best friend. You don’t honestly doubt me, do you?” Before I could answer, Ethan’s voice echoed from outside the door. “Chloe, did you order takeout sashimi again?” The sound of a key turning in the lock followed. Before he even stepped inside, his tone was full of scolding frustration. “Does your stomach not hurt anymore? Are you trying to kill yourself?” Chloe’s expression tightened. She shot me a panicked look. The next second, Ethan walked in holding a bag of groceries. Steak, broccoli, butternut squash, and a carton of milk. Everything Chloe loved. Chloe quickly rolled her eyes, forcing her voice back into that familiar, annoyed bickering tone. “Who asked you to care? Gosh, you are so annoying.” Ethan dropped the groceries on the floor and let out a dry laugh. “If I didn’t care, who would? You called me three times last night crying because your stomach hurt so bad.” I stood by the fridge, feeling like a complete ghost in the room. They had always been like this. Fighting the moment they saw each other. Chloe complained about his bad temper, and Ethan complained about how high-maintenance she was. Back then, I used to laugh and try to make peace between them. I thought it was nice that they became friends because of me and that stray dog. I just hoped they would stop bickering so much. Finally, Ethan noticed me. The coldness on his face flickered. He quickly walked over. “Hazel? Why are you wearing so little outside? It’s freezing.” He took off his coat, intending to drape it over my shoulders. But before the coat could touch me, Chloe’s eyes welled up with tears. Ethan’s hands froze in mid-air. His tone suddenly turned defensive. “I told you I’d come over to your place as soon as the dog’s surgery was done,” he said. “Why did you come all the way here?” I looked at his hovering coat and let out a quiet, empty laugh. “Where is the dog, Ethan?” Ethan frowned. “I literally just told you.” I unlocked my phone and held it up to his face. The message from the building management was crystal clear. “Unit 1502 has no registered pets under Ms. Chloe’s name. In fact, Ms. Chloe is severely allergic to dog dander. She filed a complaint last month about a stray dog in the hallway.” The apartment fell dead silent. I looked at both of them. “Ethan, the dog that supposedly only eats when you’re around… where is it?” Chloe’s tears finally spilled over. “Hazel, I didn’t mean to lie to you. I’ve just been going through a really hard time lately…” Ethan said nothing. His silence was louder and more humiliating than any excuse. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was my mom. “Hazel, did you find Ethan? Your dad says all the guests have left.” My throat tightened. They had waited for three hours. Waiting for me to bring my fiancé back to our own party. I looked at Ethan and spoke into the phone, “Mom, don’t wait up.” “He’s not coming. Not today, not ever.” Ethan snapped his head up. “Hazel, what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Chloe sobbed, reaching out to grab my arm. “Hazel, I’m so sorry! Please don’t fight with him because of me!” I yanked myself away from her touch, stepping back. In my haste, the back of my hand scraped hard against the sharp corner of the shoe cabinet. Blood immediately bubbled up. Ethan instinctively reached out to help me, but Chloe started crying even louder, gasping for air. His hand stopped. He looked back at her. In that single second of hesitation, I saw everything with absolute clarity. I pulled my hand back. “Ethan, we’re done. Let’s break up.”

Ethan’s face darkened completely. “Hazel, don’t use a breakup to threaten me.” I didn’t look back. As the elevator doors began to close, I saw him take a step forward to chase after me. But behind him, Chloe whimpered, “Ethan…” And he stopped. When I got home, my dad was still wearing the sharp suit he had bought specifically for my engagement party. My mom was still in her formal dress. Mom looked pale, her eyes filled with worry as she watched Dad. Dad had just undergone heart stent surgery a few weeks ago. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before, anxious and excited for my big day. Seeing me walk in alone, they both stood up immediately. “Where’s Ethan?” I hid my bleeding hand behind my back. “Something came up at work.” Mom froze. Dad forced a small, weak smile. “It’s okay. Young people are busy these days.” Watching them make excuses for Ethan made a lump form in my throat. I didn’t dare tell them we broke up. I was terrified the shock would trigger my dad’s heart condition. I just whispered, “Dad, Mom, I want to go back to our hometown for a while. Just to clear my head.” Mom immediately held my arm. “Did you two get into a fight?” “No.” I lowered my head and started packing up the untouched engagement cake from the table. “I just miss home.” An hour later, the doorbell rang. I was in the middle of throwing Ethan’s things into a cardboard box. I opened the door. Chloe was standing there, cradling a long-haired dog in her arms. Her neck was covered in angry red hives, and her eyes were severely swollen. “Hazel, look, I brought the dog to show you.” “Please don’t be mad at me anymore, okay?” The dog was squirming wildly in her arms, its claws scratching her wrists and leaving bright red marks. Ethan rushed out of the elevator behind her, his face pale with fury. He snatched the dog from her arms. “Chloe, are you insane?!” “You know you’re severely allergic to dogs! Why would you hold it?!” Chloe’s tears flowed freely. “I just… I just wanted Hazel to believe me.” Ethan snapped his head toward me, his eyes blazing with accusation. “Are you happy now?” My mom gasped, terrified. “What is going on here?” Before I could speak, Chloe suddenly clutched her chest, her knees buckling as she slid toward the floor. Ethan caught her instantly. “Chloe!” He turned and screamed at me, “Get the car keys! We need to go to the hospital!” My parents were completely panicking. I didn’t want them to see any more of this mess, so I grabbed my keys and followed them downstairs. The entire drive to the ER, Ethan held Chloe tightly in his arms. She leaned against his shoulder, whispering weakly, “Hazel, please don’t hate me…” Ethan kept scolding her in a low, trembling voice. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?” “If something happens to you, how am I supposed to face Hazel?” On the surface, he was blaming her. But every single word dripped with deep, agonizing worry. At the hospital, Chloe was rushed into the emergency room. I stood outside in the hallway. The scratch on my hand had started bleeding again. Ethan finally noticed it. He frowned and grabbed my hand. “Why is this still bleeding?” I tried to pull away. But he held on tight, pressing a sterile gauze pad against the cut, his tone finally softening. “Hazel, stop fighting me. I know I messed up.” He sighed, and then, he dropped a set of keys into my palm. I stared at them, confused. He leaned down and kissed my forehead gently. “I’ve sorted everything out.” “To make sure you don’t keep worrying about Chloe and me crossing boundaries, I rented the apartment directly across from yours for her.” “That way, you can keep an eye on her whenever you want.” I froze, my entire body turning cold. Yet, Ethan smiled, genuinely believing this was a generous peace offering. “She’s in no state to live alone right now. It’s not safe.” “Since you guys are best friends, you can look after her too.” “And since your parents are in town, and they love to cook, they can just make an extra portion for her when her stomach acts up.” I stared up at him, wondering if I was experiencing some sick hallucination. Last winter, when my parents’ health was declining, I wanted to bring them to the city to live near me. I found a cozy little apartment right across the hall from ours. I was going to pay the rent myself. I just wanted them close so I could take care of them. But Ethan had frowned and shut down the idea immediately. “Hazel, we just started living together.” “Having parents right across the hall destroys all boundaries. I don’t want to feel like I’m being watched by elders every single day.” So, I deleted the agent’s number. My parents stayed in our hometown. But now, he had rented that exact apartment for Chloe, and he expected my parents to cook for her. I threw the keys hard against his chest. “Ethan, do you honestly think my entire family exists just to be walked all over by you?” His face instantly hardened. “You’re throwing a tantrum again.” “Have you forgotten everything Chloe has done for you?” “Who drank with you at those miserable corporate dinners? Who brought you medicine when you were sick?” “She lied to you once, with me, and now you’re trying to use some moral high ground to ruin her life?” I stared into his eyes. “What about you, Ethan? Whose boyfriend are you actually supposed to be?” The question caught him off guard. But he quickly suppressed his irritation, his voice cold. “I am your boyfriend, Hazel. But the way you’re treating Chloe is hurtful. When she wakes up, you need to go in there and apologize to her.” I let out a bitter laugh. “I need to apologize to her?” “Yes.” He glared at me, his voice dropping an octave. “She is in the hospital because of her allergies.” “Don’t make me think you’re completely heartless.” I turned on my heel and walked away. Ethan grabbed my wrist in a vice grip. “Hazel, if you walk away today,” he threatened, “you’ll regret it.”

I barely slept that night. My dreams were filled with tiny, forgotten fragments of the past. I remembered a company dinner at a Japanese restaurant. Chloe sat next to me. The moment she reached for the salmon sashimi, Ethan frowned. “Don’t eat raw food.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Mind your own business.” But he ignored her, putting a piece of cooked beef from the hot pot onto her plate anyway. “Don’t come crying to me in the middle of the night when your stomach hurts.” At the time, I had laughed, saying, “You two fight literally every time you meet.” I also remembered a rainy afternoon. Neither Chloe nor I had an umbrella. Ethan had only brought one. He shoved the umbrella into her hands, his voice harsh. “Take it. If you catch a cold, you’ll complain for weeks.” Chloe snapped back, “Who wants your stupid umbrella?” I had stood under the awning, watching them bicker all the way to the parking lot. In the end, I had run out into the pouring rain to hail a cab by myself. Back then, I made excuses for them. One was my boyfriend. The other was my best friend. But now, looking back, the clues were everywhere. By the time I woke up, the sun was barely rising. My phone buzzed. It was a Snapchat notification. Chloe had posted on her story. In the photo, her hand had an IV line in it. Ethan’s coat was draped gently over her knees. Her caption read: Someone scolded me all night. Underneath, our mutual friends were commenting and teasing: “Scolded you, but still gave you his coat?” “Ethan’s attitude is trash, but he clearly cares about you.” Chloe had replied with a blushing emoji: “Ugh, he’s so annoying. I told him to go comfort Hazel, but he insisted on staying here.” I stared at the screen for a long time. When it was time for work, I got dressed and went to the office. The moment I entered the breakroom, the whispering stopped. A colleague brushed past me with her coffee mug, murmuring to someone else under her breath: “Her best friend is literally in the hospital with an allergic reaction, and she’s still making a scene.” “Yeah, her boyfriend was just trying to help. This petty jealousy is so toxic.” My grip tightened around my mug. I turned around, walked straight to the HR office, and handed in my transfer request. “I want to transfer back to the hometown branch.”

The HR manager looked at my request, an awkward expression on her face. “Hazel… I don’t think we can process this right now.” “Why not?” She closed the file. “Ethan told us that you’ve been emotionally unstable lately. He gave instructions to hold off on any of your transfer requests.” I let out a cold laugh. “What else did he say?” She avoided my gaze. “He said you should take a few days off to calm down at home.” “And that you can return to work once you’ve sorted out your personal issues.” As I walked out of the office, I heard more gossip floating from the breakroom. “Ethan is honestly so professional. He doesn’t even play favorites with his own girlfriend.” “Right? He explained that Chloe has been struggling with depression and anxiety, which is why he was helping her. He didn’t want everyone blaming her.” “He said Hazel is just overly sensitive and blew the whole dog thing out of proportion.” “No wonder Chloe feels so guilty.” Standing outside the door, I finally understood. All the gossip, the side-eyes, the whispers—Ethan had orchestrated it all. Just to protect Chloe’s feelings and make her feel better. I turned to leave, but as I passed the stairwell, I heard Chloe’s voice from inside. “Ethan, why would you say those things about her?” “You know Hazel did nothing wrong.” Ethan’s voice was low and soothing. “If I didn’t say that, you’d just hide away and cry yourself to sleep again, wouldn’t you?” Chloe choked up. “But… she’s your girlfriend.” “She’ll get over it,” Ethan said, his voice brimming with confidence. “Hazel has a soft heart. Especially when it comes to you.” Chloe went silent for a long time. “There was never a dog,” she whispered. “Why did you keep up the lie for me?” I leaned against the wall, my fingers turning icy cold. Ethan didn’t answer right away. After a few excruciating seconds, he murmured, “Because I wanted an excuse to see you, too.” The air in the stairwell went dead silent. I could hear the frantic pounding of my own heart. Chloe’s voice trembled. “Then… on her birthday… her parents waited for three hours. Did you know that?” “Yes,” Ethan said. “She’ll make an excuse for me. She always does.” The transfer request paper slipped from my fingers, fluttering silently to the floor. Suddenly, the voices in the stairwell cut off. When I looked up through the crack of the door, I saw Chloe clutching Ethan’s collar, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. Ethan froze for a split second. But in the next moment, his hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her in deeper. I stood at the entrance of the stairwell, watching my fiancé and my best friend make out. All that bickering. All that feigned annoyance. It was nothing but a game. A cheap curtain to hide behind. Ethan saw me first. His face turned instantly pale. “Hazel!” I bent down, picked up my paper, and turned to walk away. He bolted out of the stairwell and grabbed my arm. “Hazel, let me explain.” I looked at him. “Explain how you two have been playing me for a fool this entire time?” Chloe stood behind him, her face white as a sheet. “Hazel, I’m so sorry…” I ignored her. Ethan lowered his voice, his grip tightening on my arm. “That was just a heat-of-the-moment thing. I swear, nothing else has ever happened between us before this.” “Why are you looking at me like that?” I sneered and yanked my arm out of his grip. That afternoon, HR returned my transfer request. Stamped: DENIED. Attached was a sticky note in Ethan’s handwriting: You can have your job back when you apologize to Chloe. I stared at those words for a long time. Then, I opened my laptop and started a new document. The subject line: Resignation Letter. After hitting send, I took off my ID badge and placed it on my desk. A colleague gasped nearby. “Hazel, are you seriously quitting?” I didn’t look back. If they wouldn’t let me transfer, I would just resign. Ethan didn’t want to let me leave with my dignity. Fine. I would carve out my own path. A path that would never cross with his again.

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All these years with my boyfriend, Simon Stone, he had trampled me into the dirt, and I had still taken it without complaint. I booked restaurants for every girlfriend he had, picked out gifts for them, and even went to hotels late at night to deliver ultra-thin condoms for him. Everyone snickered, calling a wealthy heiress a selfless unpaid errand girl who acted far beneath her station. Even when Simon announced right in front of me that he was going to marry the substitute for the one who got away, he was certain I would not leave. But Simon did not know that I was getting married too. My new husband was someone Simon could not afford to offend, and could never hope to reach. Wendy Wilson POV At ten o’clock that night, Simon called. “Tiramisu from Oceanview Patisserie. Deliver it to Riverside Club within an hour.” I had just been about to ask why he wanted it so late, but he had already hung up. Oceanview Hotel had closed long before ten. I dug out the owner’s private number and paid triple the price to have them make a new tiramisu. Over the past few years, my phone had filled up with numbers like this. Famous cake shops, Michelin-starred restaurant managers, VIP concierges at jewelry stores. All of them were contacts I had accumulated while running errands for Simon’s girlfriends. At eleven, I stood outside the private room with the takeout box in my hand. Just as I raised my hand to knock, I heard bursts of laughter from inside. “Simon, you really have the nerve to order her around. Making an heiress deliver dessert for you in the middle of the night? She’s your official fiancée, you know.” “So what if she’s my fiancée? A fiancée should know her place even more. She’s willing.” “She really is. An heiress acting like a simp—first time I’ve ever seen it. Last time, Simon pretended to be drunk, and she came running over with hangover medicine. You poured it into the trash right in front of her, and she actually smiled and said she’d buy something else next time.” “More than that. Simon’s girlfriends’ birthday gifts, breakup payoffs—which one hasn’t she handled? Every time Simon changes girlfriends, she knows whether the girl likes sweet or spicy better than his secretary does.” The laughter grew louder. “Enough.” Simon’s lazy voice sounded. My grip tightened around the gift box. Was Simon stepping in for me? “Phoebe wanted the tiramisu. Don’t fight over it later.” So he was not defending me. He just thought the topic was not worth continuing. I gave a self-mocking smile, laughing at myself for never learning. Phoebe Ford, I silently repeated the name. Another new girlfriend. I had already lost count of which one this was. Simon changed girlfriends more often than he changed clothes, and every one of them looked somewhat like Chloe Harris. For each one, I, his fiancée, was responsible for figuring out her lipstick shade, dietary restrictions, and preferred handbag brands. When those women had birthdays, I was in charge of ordering cakes and choosing gifts. When they threw tantrums, I was in charge of ordering flowers and booking restaurants. When Simon wanted to break up with them, I was the one who took a check to negotiate and smooth things over. The worst of it was that Simon would even send me a hotel room number in the middle of the night and tell me to deliver ultra-thin condoms. When the woman opened the door for me, she would not even be wearing clothes. I had never told Simon’s mother, Mrs. Stone, about any of this. Mrs. Stone had a heart condition. I was afraid she would not be able to take it. Mrs. Stone thought Simon and I had only had a fight and that there was a little distance between us. Every time she saw me, she would hold my hand and say, “Simon has you in his heart. He just hasn’t figured it out yet. Wait a little longer. Once he matures, everything will be fine.” For five years, I had been waiting. I took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the private room. The room was packed with Simon’s friends. The looks they gave me were full of contempt and schadenfreude. On the main sofa, Simon sat with his long legs crossed, Phoebe in his arms. He had his head lowered and was kissing her as if no one else were there. One hand gripped the back of Phoebe’s neck, while the other moved back and forth over her thigh. Phoebe’s pale legs were curled over his knees. She tried to dodge but did not really get away, her face flushed as she let him do as he pleased. Hearing the door open, Simon lifted his head. Phoebe’s lipstick was still smeared on his lips. When he saw it was me, he pecked the corner of Phoebe’s mouth again. “Put it on the table.” I placed the food box on the table, opened it, and set out the tiramisu. Phoebe sat up from Simon’s arms and timidly called out, “Wendy Wilson.” I looked up at her. Phoebe’s face was still flushed, and so were her eyes. She looked like a startled little deer. Phoebe really did look like Chloe Harris. At least seventy percent similar. Among all the substitute girlfriends Simon had found, she was the one who resembled Chloe the most. “Oh, Wendy Wilson delivered it herself. Phoebe, you’d better thank Wendy properly.” Simon’s buddy Gary Walsh jeered in a mocking tone. “Thank her for what?” another person laughed. “Wendy is so generous. She’s used to it.” Laughter rose and fell around the room. My face showed no expression. I had heard things like this too many times. After putting away the takeout box, I turned to leave. “Stop.” Simon spoke unhurriedly. “Who said you’re free to leave?” I halted and looked back. “Let me introduce you.” Simon pulled Phoebe closer into his arms. “Phoebe Ford, my girlfriend.” “You’re welcome to go complain to my mom again. But I’m going to marry her.” Phoebe’s eyes widened slightly at his words. Then she lowered her head, twisting the hem of her skirt between her fingers, looking as if happiness had struck her so suddenly she did not know what to do. “Phoebe isn’t like you. She’s innocent, clean, and doesn’t have so many schemes.” Simon warned me coldly, “If you dare use those dirty tricks again, I won’t let you off.” Dirty tricks. I stood where I was, my fingertips digging into my palm. I knew what he was referring to. Five years ago, Simon had cheated on me with Chloe Harris. That night, I had originally gone to find Simon and break up with him. But my father, Gordon Wilson, drugged Simon’s wine. In the end, I did not get to bring up the breakup. Simon took me in that hotel room for the entire night. When I woke the next day, the sky had fallen. Chloe cried as she broke up with him, then turned around and left the country, becoming the thorn Simon could never pull out of his heart. And the blame for drugging him was pinned on me. I explained, but Simon did not believe me. Mrs. Stone also told Simon that Chloe had not left in anger because of that incident. Instead, she had happily left after taking five million from Mrs. Stone. But after Simon heard that, he smashed up the study, saying I had colluded with Mrs. Stone to make up lies and smear Chloe. From then on, my nightmare began. It was not that I did not want to leave. But the specialty medication that kept my grandmother, Helen Shaw, alive was in Gordon Wilson’s hands, and Gordon forced me to please Simon. I had once foolishly hoped that if I waited until his anger faded, waited until he grew up, waited until one day he believed me. I waited for five years. All I got in return was him getting worse and worse, announcing in front of a room full of people that he would marry another woman. All of a sudden, I felt exhausted. The string that had been pulled taut in my heart for five years snapped silently. I nodded and said softly, “Don’t worry. I won’t.” Simon froze. I knew what he was thinking. I had not been like this before. In the past, at a time like this, I should have had red-rimmed eyes, speaking gently as I coaxed him and begged him. But now, I simply stood there calmly, as if I were looking at someone who had nothing to do with me. “Good.” He looked away and awkwardly added, “It’s going to rain. Have Leo drive you back. Don’t stand here being an eyesore.” I did not refuse. I turned and walked out. The car had not been on the road for ten minutes when the rain came pouring down. Sheets of rain battered the windshield. Even with the wipers on their highest setting, the road ahead was hard to see. “Ms. Wilson, something urgent suddenly came up at home. Get out at the intersection ahead and take a cab back. The rain is heavy and the roads are slippery, so I won’t make the detour.” When the driver, Leo Lewis, said this, he did not even turn his head. I looked at the curtain of rain outside the window and understood. This stretch of road was difficult to drive. He did not want to take the long way in such heavy rain to send me home. It was not the first time something like this had happened. Last time, when I rode in Leo’s car, we hit traffic on the way, and he dropped me off directly at the entrance to the overpass. Simon did not care about me, so naturally the people under him did not take me seriously either. They would only step on me harder than Simon did. “Fine. Stop here.” I got out of the car. The rain was so heavy I could barely stand steady. I held my umbrella and walked forward, the canopy almost flipped over by the wind. I stood in the rain for a long time, soaked through and shivering from the cold, before I finally managed to hail a taxi. The driver looked at me through the rearview mirror. “In rain this heavy, no one from your family came to pick you up?” I tugged at the corner of my mouth and did not answer. I took out my phone. The messages in the friend group were still from the afternoon. 【Breaking news! The Kingsley family has made an announcement. Julian Kingsley, the heir of the wealthy family, is taking a wife, with a wedding fund of ten billion!】 【Even with ten billion, no one would dare marry him, right? Ever since Julian Kingsley went blind in that car accident three years ago, his personality changed completely. He’s terrifyingly violent. I heard the last caregiver ran away after three days. No heiress from any family is willing.】 【Exactly. It’s not like we’re short on money. No matter how rich the Kingsley family is, it’s still a living hell. Marrying into that family is jumping straight into a fire pit.】 I thought of the ugly face Gordon Wilson showed when he used Helen Shaw’s medicine to bully me. I thought of the way Simon had said he was going to marry Phoebe Ford. I thought of the torrential rain outside. No matter how terrible that fire pit was, it could not be harder to endure than what I had now. At the very least, it was a way to leave Simon Stone and Gordon Wilson. I would be the Kingsley family’s daughter-in-law.

Wendy Wilson POV By the time I got home, it was already one in the morning. I stood at the entrance of the walk-in closet, looking at the display wall dedicated to jewelry. Simon loved gifting me jewelry. He claimed dresses and handbags fell out of fashion fast, but fine jewelry lasted a lifetime, and once promised I’d own more pieces than his mother. It could be worn for a lifetime. Mrs. Stone had an entire cabinet full of jewels, all of them gifts from Simon’s father, Michael Stone. Simon once said, “I’m going to make sure you have even more jewelry than my mom.” So on my birthdays, he gave me necklaces. On Valentine’s Day, he gave me bracelets. On anniversaries, he gave me earrings. Not a single year was missed. I opened the cabinet door and took the pieces out one by one. The ruby choker was something Simon had put on me himself on my eighteenth birthday. The clasp was too small. He fumbled with it several times, and I laughed so hard I bent back and forth. The pink diamond bracelet was carved from a rough gemstone he’d traveled fourteen hours to Myanmar’s mines to handpick, before flying all the way to Antwerp for custom cutting—the entire process took a month and a half. Then he flew to Antwerp to find someone to process it. The whole thing took him a month and a half. When he came back, his flight was delayed, and he did not arrive downstairs at my place until four in the morning. He was so sleepy he could barely keep his eyes open, but he still insisted on stuffing the box into my hands before going back to sleep. The sapphire earrings were won at Christie’s. At the time, the bidding had reached thirty million, and everyone in the room thought he had lost his mind. Even the auctioneer confirmed it more than once. Simon held up his paddle without changing expression and only said, “My girlfriend likes them.” I took them off one by one and placed them into a box. There was also a butterfly brooch, a long pearl necklace, a full-diamond bracelet… I remembered the origin of every single piece. I remembered the look on his face when he chose them. I remembered him personally putting them on me and saying, “Beautiful.” Back then, Simon only had eyes for me. The same person could fly halfway across the world for me five years ago, yet five years later, he had his driver abandon me in a rainstorm. These heavy pieces of jewelry proved that Simon had once loved me. But only once. I put the jewelry box away, took a hot shower, and slept soundly. Early the next morning, I was shaken awake by my phone. Message notifications came one after another, ringing nonstop. I opened Moments, and Simon’s post was at the very top. The photo was a group picture from the private room last night. Phoebe was nestled in his arms, her face still red. Simon had an arm around her shoulders, his chin resting against the top of her head. The caption read: 【Getting ready to bring her home as my wife.】 The comments section exploded. Some people were sincerely offering congratulations, some were asking about Phoebe’s background, but even more were making snide remarks. 【What about Wendy? Is he officially dumping her for good?】 【Hahahaha, finally separated from the personal nanny who followed him around for five years.】 【Wendy’s probably crying her eyes out in the bathroom after seeing this.】 My private messages were even uglier than the comments. Plenty of people had specifically come to ask me: “Did you see it?” “Are you okay?” “I told you a long time ago he didn’t like you.” There was not a shred of concern in their words. They were all just watching the show. I placed my phone face down on the bed, and that familiar dull ache came back in my chest. I thought I had already let go last night, but when I saw that photo, my heart still spasmed with pain. A habit built over five years could not be quit in a single day. But this time, I had already decided to leave. Before I even had time to put down my phone, Gordon Wilson barged in. I hurriedly stood up. Before I could steady myself, Gordon’s slap landed across my face. The blow knocked my head to the side, my ears buzzing. “Useless.” Gordon cursed at me without pause. “You can’t even hold on to a man. What use are you to me?” I slowly lifted my head. My face burned with pain, and I tasted blood in my mouth. Ever since Simon grew disgusted with me, Gordon had either beaten me or cursed at me. Every time Simon was unhappy, Gordon would withhold Helen Shaw’s medicine from me. All these years, for Helen’s medicine, I had endured it. But today, without even thinking, I raised my hand and slapped him back. Gordon froze. Then his entire body trembled with rage. In the next second, furious, he instinctively looked around for something to hit me with. “You actually dare hit me—” “You’re just short on money, aren’t you?” I interrupted him. Gordon’s movements stopped. “Julian Kingsley is looking for a wife.” I looked at him. “The wedding fund is ten billion. I’m willing to marry him.” Gordon’s expression changed from rage to wariness, then from wariness to greed. Finally, he studied me suspiciously. “Are you playing me? Who doesn’t know Julian Kingsley is blind and has a violent temper? Marrying him would be like going to prison. You’d be willing?” “I have conditions.” Gordon narrowed his eyes and sized me up. “Go on.” “The day I go to the Kingsley family, you give me the formula for Helen Shaw’s medicine.” Gordon stared at me. I knew what he was thinking. The Kingsley family’s status and power were beyond even the Stone family’s. If I could marry into the Kingsley family, his Wilson Group would certainly be able to reap plenty of benefits as well. And he knew very well how much that formula was worth. At most, it could earn him one billion. Trading one billion for ten billion—no matter how he calculated it, he would not lose. “Fine.” The anger on Gordon’s face disappeared completely. “I’ll contact the Kingsley family. Once you get into the Kingsleys’ car, I’ll give you the formula. But if you dare try anything—” “Helen Shaw won’t get another pill.” I finished the sentence for him. Gordon looked at me with satisfaction, then turned and left.

Wendy Wilson POV I went to Simon’s company. I wanted to return the love token from when we were together, give back what should be given back, and make a clean break. When the receptionist saw me, she did not even put on a polite smile. “Mr. Stone is in a meeting. Please wait.” I sat down on the sofa in the lobby and called Simon. No one answered. I waited for a while, then went to ask the receptionist again. The receptionist did not even raise her head. “Mr. Stone is still busy. Please keep waiting.” So I sat back down. One hour passed. Two hours passed. Employees came and went through the lobby. When they saw me, their eyes held subtle judgment and avoidance. I knew what they were thinking. The news that Simon was going to marry Phoebe Ford had already spread through the entire company. In the past, when I came here, the receptionist would at least inform him for me. Today, she had not even done that. This was not exactly new. Simon had never given me a pass. Every time I came to see him, I had to register in the lobby and wait for the receptionist to notify him. Simon knew, but he never asked about it. At six in the evening, people began leaving work one after another. In the end, it was the janitor who could not stand watching anymore. She secretly told me, “Ms. Wilson, Mr. Stone didn’t come to the office today.” I froze. I had sat here for an entire afternoon, and the receptionist had known from beginning to end that Simon was not here. In the past, although they had been neglectful toward me, at least they would not openly toy with me like this. Today was different. Simon was going to marry someone else, so they could not wait to come up and stomp on me a few more times. I looked at the name tag on the receptionist’s chest. “I’ll remember you.” The smile on the receptionist’s face stiffened for an instant. I turned and left, then called Simon. It was still the familiar unanswered call. With no other choice, I could only go to the Stone family home to find Mrs. Stone. The car stopped at the entrance of the Stone family villa. I had just gotten out when my phone rang. It was Gordon Wilson. “The Kingsley family agreed. They’ll send a car to pick you up in half a month.” Gordon could not hide his excitement. “Don’t try anything with me. When the time comes, you’ll obediently marry into that family.” “Okay. It’s a deal. In half a month, I’ll be there on time.” “Go where?” Simon’s voice came from behind me. I turned around. Simon got out of the car, one hand in his trouser pocket and the other holding Phoebe Ford’s hand. He was still wearing the same black shirt from last night, two buttons undone, looking like he hadn’t come home all night. “Who were you calling? Where are you going?” I put my phone into my bag and said calmly, “I’m getting married.” Simon Stone glanced at me and couldn’t help letting out a scornful laugh. “Married? Besides me, who would want you?” He let go of Phoebe Ford’s hand, took a few steps forward, and looked down at me from above. “Playing hard to get? Useless.” Phoebe followed him and said softly, “Simon, maybe Wendy Wilson just likes you too much. That’s why she’s saying things out of anger.” Simon turned back to look at her, his gaze softening. He reached out and ruffled Phoebe’s hair. “Whether she likes me or not, I don’t care. I only care about you.” Phoebe lowered her head with a blush and obediently leaned into his arms. I didn’t say anything else and walked straight inside. The maid opened the door. I entered the living room and asked the butler where Mrs. Stone was. The butler said Mrs. Stone had left yesterday for a trip and wouldn’t be back until next week. Simon came in behind me and tossed his jacket onto the sofa. “What do you need my mom for? Going to tattle again?” I gave a bitter laugh inwardly. Every time Mrs. Stone spoke up for me, Simon decided I must have been complaining behind his back. The less I said, the more Mrs. Stone pitied me. The more Mrs. Stone pitied me, the more Simon hated me. “Since Mrs. Stone isn’t here, I’ll ask you for it.” I took a jewelry box out of my bag and held it out to Simon. “You’re getting married. I’m returning this bracelet to you. Give me back my mother’s cross.” Simon lowered his head and glanced at the pink diamond bracelet inside the box. He had put it on me himself back then. He said that once I wore it, I was part of his family. Simon’s expression shifted uncertainly. After a long while, he suddenly let out a cold laugh and snatched the bracelet. “Your wrist is thick. It never looked good on you anyway.” He turned and walked toward Phoebe, took her slender wrist, and fastened the bracelet around it. “It fits Phoebe perfectly.” Phoebe hurriedly shook her head. “Simon, this belongs to Wendy Wilson. I can’t—” “If I give it to you, you wear it.” Phoebe bit her lip, lowered her eyes, and obediently stopped refusing. “Once you wear our family heirloom, you’re mine.” Phoebe blushed again, smiling shyly. I watched that bracelet encircle another girl’s wrist, as if something had finally been ripped out of my chest by the roots. It hurt, but I also felt relieved. It’s all over now, I thought. “I’ve returned the bracelet. What about my mother’s cross? Give that back to me too.” Simon leaned back on the sofa and crossed his legs. “I gave it to Phoebe.” I froze. “That was something my mother left me.” “I know.” Simon tilted his head and watched my expression. “If you want it back, fine.” He pulled Phoebe’s hand over and said carelessly, “Phoebe wants mango mousse. Go make it. Once it’s done, I’ll give it back.” Phoebe tugged gently at Simon’s sleeve. “Simon, isn’t it a little inappropriate to make Wendy Wilson make mango mousse?” “She loves doing servants’ work like this.” Simon said it casually. I knew arguing was meaningless. I only wanted to get my mother’s keepsake back, so I turned and went to the kitchen. As I peeled mango flesh, painful red rashes bloomed across my arms—Simon knew perfectly well I had a severe mango allergy. I was allergic to mangoes. Simon knew that. That was why Simon had deliberately asked for mango mousse. The sap got on my skin, itching and stinging, and soon a patch of red, swollen bumps rose up. I kept peeling. In the living room, Phoebe leaned against Simon’s shoulder while watching TV, and Simon kissed her forehead every now and then. When the first mango mousse was brought out, Phoebe took a bite and frowned. “It’s a little too sweet.” Simon glanced at me. “Make it again.” When the second mango mousse was brought out, Phoebe shook her head again. “Too sour.” “Make it again.” For the third mango mousse, Phoebe said, “The mango is a little underripe.” For the fourth mango mousse, Phoebe said, “The mango is a little overripe.” When I brought out the fifth mango mousse, the rashes on my arms had already connected into one angry patch, and my wrist was so swollen I could barely hold the bowl. I walked up to Phoebe and bent down to hand her the mango mousse. Phoebe reached out to take it, but the tip of her foot silently stretched forward. Caught off guard, I tripped and fell forward. The porcelain plate shattered on the floor. The porcelain dish smashed against the tiles. I crashed onto the jagged fragments, shards slicing my palms and knees as blood trickled freely. Simon’s gaze fell on my bleeding hand. His pupils tightened, and he was just about to move. “Simon!” Phoebe covered her finger and screamed. “My hand is bleeding…” Simon’s eyes instantly shifted to Phoebe. There was a shallow little cut on her fair finger, with a tiny bead of blood seeping out. Simon took her finger into his mouth, frowning, his voice low and hoarse. “Does it hurt?” Phoebe leaned in his arms and nodded pitifully. Simon lifted his head and looked coldly at me, still kneeling on the floor. “Look what you’ve done.” “If anything happens to Phoebe, you’ll regret it.” I knew Simon had clearly seen Phoebe stick out her foot to trip me, but he didn’t care. If he hadn’t allowed it, how would a poor college student dare trip up the heiress of the Wilson family?

Wendy Wilson POV “It’s not Wendy Wilson’s fault,” Phoebe said quickly, her voice soft and gentle. “It was all my own carelessness.” She took out the cross and handed it over. “This belongs to Wendy Wilson. Give it back to Wendy Wilson.” I reached out to take it. The instant my fingertips were about to touch it, Phoebe’s hand loosened. The cross slipped from her grasp, clattering to the tiled floor and splitting its central gemstone into three jagged shards. Phoebe covered her mouth, her face full of panic. “I’m sorry, Wendy Wilson. My hand slipped…” I stared at the shattered cross on the floor. This was the only keepsake my mother had left me. “You did that on purpose.” I raised my hand and slapped toward Phoebe’s face. Simon grabbed my wrist, his grip so hard my entire arm went numb. “Enough.” With a cold face, he flung my hand away. “Isn’t it just a cross? It’s broken, so what? We’re not getting married anymore. What meaning is there in keeping a love token?” “The love token doesn’t matter.” I clenched the broken pieces and looked at him. “But this was my mother’s keepsake.” When Simon heard me actually say the love token didn’t matter, he became inexplicably irritated. He suddenly swung his hand and shoved me away. I stumbled back a few steps and fell to the floor. The shards pierced into my back, and blood spread through my clothes, blooming into a dark red stain. Simon had already bent down, lifted Phoebe into his arms, and strode upstairs. He didn’t see it at all. Phoebe lay against his shoulder and glanced down at me over it. I supported myself against the wall and stood up, then went to the hospital. After my wounds were bandaged, I called Mrs. Stone. “Mrs. Stone, I’m getting married to someone else.” “Wendy Wilson, don’t rush. I’ll be back tomorrow. We’ll sit down and talk properly when I get home. Did Simon bully you again? Tell me. I’ll make him apologize to you!” “There’s no need, Mrs. Stone. The marriage has already been decided. I’ll be leaving in half a month.” Mrs. Stone fell silent. “I always thought you could become my child. Simon is the one who failed you.” Her voice was dry. “Wendy Wilson, you won’t wait for him anymore?” “Mrs. Stone, he doesn’t like me. I won’t wait anymore. I won’t force him anymore.” “Our family has wronged you,” Mrs. Stone said. “How am I supposed to face your mother in the future…” I gripped the phone and tried hard to keep my voice sounding normal. “Mrs. Stone, you’ve been very good to me. All these years, you’ve been the person who treated me best.” After my mother passed away, Mrs. Stone was the only elder who had taken care of me over the years. But once I got married, I would have to cut off ties with this elder too. I couldn’t have any more involvement with my ex-boyfriend’s family. Over the next few days, I stayed home to recover. I watched Phoebe’s Moments become livelier by the day. Simon took her to a high-end Japanese restaurant. That was where he had promised to take me two years ago. Simon took her to see the northern lights. That was where he had promised six years ago that he would go with me. Simon arranged a private advance screening of the year’s most anticipated film for her. I had begged him for half a year to see that movie, but he always said he didn’t have time. Simon gave her a full set of haute couture. That was what he had promised me for my birthday last year, before it went nowhere. I couldn’t tell whether Simon was doing it on purpose, or if he had truly forgotten who he had made those promises to. His kindness was as careless as his cruelty. The latest post was Simon’s proposal video. The luxury yacht was filled with flowers, and Simon got down on one knee to present the ring. Phoebe was crying as she nodded yes. I forcefully exited Moments and went to the hospital to see Helen Shaw. Helen leaned against the hospital bed and looked behind me. “Why didn’t Simon come?” Before, no matter how much Simon disliked me, he would still accompany me once a month to visit Helen. When we were little, Helen had been just as close to him as she was to me. But ever since Phoebe appeared, Simon had completely forgotten about this too. I sat by the bed and held Helen’s hand. “Helen, Simon isn’t good. I don’t want him anymore. Is that okay?” Helen reached out and pulled me into her arms. “If Wendy Wilson doesn’t want someone, then don’t want him. No one can force you.” Helen took a card out from under her pillow and stuffed it into my hand. “I saved a wedding fund for you. Don’t worry about me. Go do whatever you want. I’m old, and I don’t even know how many years I have left. But your life is still long.” I clenched that card, my eyes burning. “In a few days, I’m going out of town. Will you come with me?” Helen thought about it, then smiled and nodded. “Okay. Wherever you go, I’ll go.” After leaving the hospital, I went to the auction. I wanted to prepare a gift for Julian Kingsley. The moment I entered the auction hall, I felt gazes coming at me from every direction. Whispers surged over me like a tide. “Isn’t that Wendy Wilson? She really is a personal nanny. They’re already planning a wedding, and she still chased them all the way here.” “Right? She’s clung to him for five years. How could she give up that easily?” So Simon and Phoebe were here too. I found a corner and sat down, ignoring the mockery completely as I quietly looked at the lots on the big screen. Today’s auction featured nineteenth-century European aristocratic collections. Simon was lavish with his money. As long as Phoebe looked at something one second longer, he raised his paddle without even blinking. He bought a diamond necklace for three times its market price, winning applause from the entire room. Everyone said Mr. Stone was serious this time, that he spoiled Phoebe beyond limit. When a pair of antique sapphire cufflinks appeared as the finale lot, I finally picked up my paddle. “Two million.” “Five million.” A voice followed immediately after. It was Phoebe. I didn’t look at her and continued bidding. “Six million.” “Eight million.” Phoebe didn’t back down at all. The two of us kept bidding, and soon the price reached thirty million. That was almost all my personal savings. Any higher, and I wouldn’t be able to afford it. “Thirty-two million.” I raised my paddle for the last time. Phoebe had just been about to raise her paddle and keep bidding when Simon stopped her. “If she wants to be an idiot, don’t bother with her.”

Wendy Wilson POV The auctioneer brought down the hammer, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Simon stood up from his seat in the front row and walked toward me. With a look of disdain, he picked up the pair of cufflinks. “A birthday gift for me? The style is too old-fashioned.” He turned the cufflinks over in his hand and said casually, “But seeing as you’re so sincere, I’ll accept them.” In a few days, it would be Simon’s birthday. Every year for Simon’s birthday, I prepared a gift in advance. Simon naturally assumed these cufflinks were a gift for him. “They’re not for you,” I corrected. Simon’s face darkened. “What did you say?” “I’m getting married.” I put the cufflinks back into the box. “They’re for my future husband.” Simon stared at me, then suddenly slammed the cufflinks hard onto the floor. The cufflinks instantly shattered into pieces. “Wendy Wilson, you’ve really grown bold!” After throwing out those words, he dragged Phoebe away and left. I crouched down and picked up the broken pieces from the floor. I had used all my personal savings to buy these cufflinks. Now Simon had smashed them. I had no money left to buy Julian Kingsley another gift. But this matter couldn’t just be let go. I stood up and found an employee of the auction house. “Please take me to pull today’s surveillance footage.” The next day, the Kingsley family sent someone to notify me that the wedding dress and wedding ring had both been prepared. They asked me to go try them on, and if the sizes were wrong, they could still make adjustments. I went to a haute couture bridal salon downtown. As soon as I walked into the hall, I saw Phoebe trying on a wedding dress. “Simon, do you think it looks good?” I recognized that wedding dress. Six years ago, I had fallen in love with that vintage-style wedding dress and said I wanted to wear it when I got married one day. Back then, Simon said, Okay. You’ll wear it when you marry me. Simon saw me and stepped forward to wrap his arms around Phoebe’s waist. “It looks good. Only you can make this wedding dress look beautiful. On anyone else, it would be a waste.” Phoebe shyly buried her face in his chest. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Phoebe saw me, her eyes shifting before she immediately lifted a smile. “Wendy Wilson? Did Wendy Wilson come to look for Simon? Perfect. Wendy Wilson, help me see if this wedding dress looks good.” “I’m not here for you two,” I said. “I have something else to do. I don’t have time.” I turned to leave, but Simon spoke unhappily. “What could you possibly have to do?” He walked forward two steps unnaturally, took a box out of his pocket, and stiffly handed it over. “For you.” I took it and opened it. It was my mother’s cross. The gem that had broken into three pieces had been replaced. The craftsmanship was exquisite. It was clear a lot of effort had gone into it. But broken was broken. Even gold couldn’t change that. I put the cross into my bag and said nothing. Simon’s brows furrowed. “Wendy Wilson, you don’t have any other reaction?” “What reaction do you want?” I looked at him. “Your fiancée was the one who broke it. Isn’t fixing it what you should have done?” I didn’t pay him any more attention and walked straight toward the fitting room on the other side. The sales assistant was already waiting for me. The wedding dress hung in the very center of the fitting room, the lights falling over it, making the satin spill with a soft luster. The neckline was cut just right, revealing the line of my collarbones, and the skirt looked like an upside-down white rose. Luxurious, yet tasteful. After I changed and came out, even the sales assistant was stunned by me. “Ms. Wilson, you’re so beautiful.” I turned in a circle in front of the mirror. The waistline was perfect down to the last fraction, the skirt length was just right, and even the cuffs fit as though they had been tailor-made. The size of this wedding dress matched my figure perfectly. The sales assistant then brought over a tray. On it was a pink diamond ring, refracting gorgeous brilliance under the light. “This is the wedding ring Mr. Kingsley sent over. Please try it on as well.” I slid the ring onto my ring finger. The band size was exactly right too. I looked at myself in the mirror, and a long-lost warmth stirred faintly in my heart. Even if it was only a loveless marriage alliance, the Kingsley family had still given me enough dignity and respect. This kind of respect was something I hadn’t received in many years. I thought, marrying into the Kingsley family probably wouldn’t be worse than now. I was slightly turning sideways in front of the mirror when footsteps came from behind me. “Simon, I’m really fine. I don’t need Wendy Wilson to apologize to me. Let’s go.” Phoebe pulled Simon inside. The moment Simon saw me in the wedding dress, he froze. His gaze fixed on me, unable to move away. Phoebe quietly dug her nails into her palm. Simon came back to himself, tugged at the corner of his mouth, and let out a disdainful laugh. “Wendy Wilson, do you have any shame at all? I brought Phoebe here to try on wedding dresses, and you followed us here to try one on too? And you think that cheap imitation ring passes for a wedding band?” He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, looking me up and down. “Are you that desperate to lock me down? Are you planning to wear a wedding dress to crash the wedding?” Jealousy flashed through Phoebe’s eyes. I didn’t turn around. I looked at him through the mirror. “I told you. This isn’t for marrying you.” “And the diamond ring isn’t fake. I am getting married, but the groom isn’t you.”

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Three years into our marriage, a woman showed up at the Williams manor, dragging a five-year-old boy with her. The boy was a spitting image of my husband, Alexander. With swollen, tear-stained eyes, the woman sobbed, “Even if you hate me, Alexander, the child is innocent.” The little boy looked up at him, whimpering, “Daddy…” Alexander’s heart melted. He let them into the house. Later, he pulled me aside, explaining that the boy was just the result of a wild, drugged night from his college years—a mistake. “It’s just one more mouth to feed, Elena,” he promised, kissing my forehead. “It won’t change anything between us.” I agreed. But that child hated my guts. He called me a homewrecker, smashed my expensive perfumes, and locked me out of the house in the freezing rain. And every single time, Alexander would shrug it off with the same old excuse: “Elena, he’s just a child.” Until the day that “child” shoved me, six months pregnant, directly into oncoming traffic. I survived. My baby did not. Lying in the hospital bed, I looked up to see Alexander watching me with a cold, detached expression. “If you had treated Leo like your own son, he would never have done this,” he said. At that exact moment, the last piece of my heart withered away. As soon as he walked out, I dialed my brother’s number. “Daniel,” I whispered, my voice trembling but cold. “I’m divorcing him. Destroy the Williams family.”

Not long after I hung up, the heavy wooden door of the VIP suite was pushed open. Alexander walked in, holding Leo’s hand. The boy’s head was down, his lower lip jutting out in a stubborn pout. He looked completely unrepentant. “I didn’t do it on purpose,” Leo muttered. “She just didn’t stand still.” Alexander gave the back of the boy’s head a firm pat, his voice deepening. “Apologize, Leo.” “Daddy…” Leo’s eyes instantly filled with tears. “I’m not apologizing to her!” “She stole you from us! If it weren’t for her, my mommy would be Mrs. Williams!” “The baby in her tummy was a bad guy too!” He burst into tears and threw his arms around Alexander’s waist. “Daddy, I just want my mommy. Why don’t you want her anymore…” Silence stretched across the hospital room, heavy and suffocating. Alexander held the boy close, remaining silent for a long time. Eventually, he just stroked the boy’s back and murmured, “Alright, buddy. Stop crying.” He didn’t force Leo to apologize again. After the nanny took the boy out, Alexander walked over and sat on the edge of my bed. “He’s still young, Elena. He doesn’t understand.” “I’ve already scolded him.” I stared down at my flat stomach, my throat burning. “So, my baby deserved to die?” Alexander stiffened. I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Alexander, this isn’t the first time.” Since Leo moved into our house, my life had become a horror movie. He had secretly swapped my prenatal vitamins with unidentified pills. He had poured pesticide into my morning milk. He had even sneaked peanut powder into my salad when the chef wasn’t looking. I have a severe, life-threatening peanut allergy. How could a five-year-old child be so calculated, so evil? I wasn’t stupid. I had investigated that woman, Chloe. But every time I brought the evidence to Alexander, he would just rub his temples with an exhausted sigh. “Elena, Leo is just a kid. Don’t overthink things.” Later, when I demanded we send the boy back to his mother, Alexander spent the entire night smoking on the balcony. The next morning, he gave me a final answer. “No.” “That woman only came back for my money. Leo is only safe under my roof.” From that day on, Alexander stepped up as a devoted father. He drove Leo to school every morning. He read him bedtime stories. He built Lego sets with him and taught him how to ride a bike. Meanwhile, the time he spent with me dwindled to almost nothing. The only sound in the hospital room was the rhythmic, clinical beep of the heart monitor. Finally, Alexander sighed and spoke in a low voice. “I will make this up to you, Elena.” “Ask for anything you want. Just don’t ask me to send Leo away.” The corner of my mouth twitched. “Then we have nothing left to talk about.” Looking at my pale, ghost-like face, a flicker of guilt finally crossed his eyes. “Elena,” he said, taking my cold hand. “I’ve already lost and found one child. Are you asking me to abandon him again?” “You need to understand, no one can ever take your place as Mrs. Williams.” I stared at him, suddenly finding the whole situation pathetic. Three years ago, he spent millions at an auction just to buy back my late mother’s vintage brooch. He once rented out the entire harbor just to put on a private light show because I casually mentioned I liked the night sky. Back then, I thought he loved me. But the moment Leo appeared, I woke up from the fairy tale. Romantic love fades, but blood ties are forever. I gently touched my empty stomach, where a dull, tearing pain still lingered. I raised my eyes to meet his. “Let’s get a divorce, Alexander.” The room fell dead silent. Alexander’s eyes darkened, and he let out a low, mocking chuckle. “A divorce? Over a kid’s mistake?” He looked at me, his disappointment palpable. “Elena, I know you’ve never accepted Leo. I know you hate Chloe. But I’ve told you a thousand times.” “You are my only wife.” “What could a five-year-old child and a woman who will never set foot in the Williams social circle possibly do to threaten you?”

Alexander always referred to Chloe as “that woman.” As if by erasing her name, he could erase their past. But he didn’t realize that a mother would do absolutely anything to secure her child’s future. The day of the incident, my chauffeur had parked the car right outside the mall entrance. Being six months pregnant, my movements were slow and heavy. Suddenly, Leo pointed across the street and squeaked, “Elena, look! A kitty!” I instinctively turned my head. In that split second, a pair of small hands pushed hard against my lower back. I stumbled forward, losing my balance, and tumbled straight onto the busy road. The screech of brakes echoed in my ears. A speeding sedan couldn’t stop in time. Following a violent impact, warm, sticky blood began to flow down my legs, soaking my dress. As my consciousness faded, I saw Leo standing on the sidewalk. He wasn’t crying. He was looking down, whispering into his smart-watch. “Mommy… she’s bleeding a lot.” From the other end, Chloe’s voice sounded chillingly calm. “Stay back. Wait a few minutes before calling for help.” “Remember, Leo. We can’t let her have that baby.” “Only then will everything your father owns belong to you.” “Once I’m back with your dad, we’ll be a real family again.” I closed my eyes. The mall entrance, the sidewalk, the parking lot… there were security cameras everywhere. If Alexander had cared to look, the truth was right there. But he never did. Or maybe he knew all along and just chose to cover it up. Because Leo was his flesh and blood, the son he felt he owed a debt to. He would always soften his stance toward Chloe because of their son. On the day I was discharged, the nurse looked around the empty room, confused. “Where is your husband?” I looked down at my phone. A text from Alexander had arrived minutes ago: [Leo says his mom is sick. Don’t worry, I won’t go see her. I’m just setting her up with a private doctor.] I took a deep breath, swallowing the bitterness. “He’s dead.” The nurse gasped, but seeing my expression, she offered a sympathetic smile. “Congratulations on your new beginning.” Once I was physically recovered, I immediately began auditing our joint assets. When we got married, my family’s conglomerate, the Franklin Group, had injected nearly a billion dollars into the Williams Group. Detangling our finances was going to be a messy, brutal war. Carrying a stack of legal documents, I walked out of my family’s office building. On my way back, I got caught in heavy school-hour traffic. My car happened to be stopped right in front of an upscale private kindergarten. “Daddy! You came to pick me up today!” I gripped the steering wheel, glancing at the rearview mirror. Leo had just hopped into the backseat of my SUV. It was Alexander’s usual car, and the boy hadn’t even looked before jumping in. When he realized I was the one in the driver’s seat, his face turned pale. “Ah! Elena…”

Before I could say a word, a woman rushed over, yanked the door open, and snatched Leo into her arms. “What are you doing? Why are you trying to take my son!” “Just because you lost your own baby doesn’t mean you can steal mine! Leo didn’t mean to do it!” I narrowed my eyes. It was Chloe. Leo’s eyes darted around, and he buried his face in her neck, sobbing. “Mommy, she always hits me when you’re not around!” “She starves me and won’t let me talk to Daddy!” Chloe gasped, looking horrified. “How can you be so cruel? How could you abuse my little boy!” “He might not be your biological son, but he is my absolute world…” The surrounding crowd consisted of wealthy moms waiting for their kids. Hearing this, they began whispering and glaring at me. Some even threw half-eaten snacks at my car window. “Gosh, stepmothers are always evil. She’s clearly taking advantage of the poor boy because his real mom isn’t around.” “Exactly. Look at her driving that luxury car. She probably used dirty tricks to squeeze the real mother out of the picture.” Chloe held Leo tight, weeping as if she were the ultimate victim. I calmly rolled up the window, picked up some tissues, and wiped my hair. Then, I sent a text to Alexander: [Get over here.] The text showed “Read,” but there was no reply. I followed up with: [Leo’s kindergarten.] He instantly requested my location and arrived within ten minutes. After assessing the situation, Alexander cast a cold glance at the mother and son clinging to each other. Chloe swallowed hard, looking terrified. “I-I’m sorry, Alexander. I was just so worried about Leo. I misunderstood your wife…” Alexander didn’t even look at her. He turned to me. “I know you’re angry. I’ll make her apologize.” Chloe took the hint immediately. She bowed her head, looking utterly humiliated. “I am so sorry, Mrs. Williams.” Alexander waved his hand dismissively, signaling her to take the boy and leave. I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, letting out a cold chuckle. “That’s it?” Alexander watched Chloe’s retreating figure. After a long moment, he sighed. “She’s still the boy’s mother, Elena. Don’t push her too hard.” I looked away, my chest tightening. When I first found out about Chloe, Alexander had told me: “I was only nineteen when she drugged me.” “She did it for the money. If I ever see her again, I’ll make sure she pays.” And yet, here he was. Staring into the eyes of the woman who shared his son’s face, his resolve had crumbled. An old flame, rekindled through their shared child. I hit the gas and drove off, leaving him standing in the rain. Water droplets began to splatter against the windshield, mirroring the silent tears building in my eyes. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a message from the legal team at the Franklin Group: [All assets and personnel have been accounted for. We are ready to pull our capital from the Williams Group at your command.] I typed back without hesitation: [Do it tomorrow. The faster, the better.] When I got home, I began reviewing the divorce papers, checking the asset distribution line by line. Before our wedding, I had made Alexander sign a prenup. One clause was non-negotiable: If either party fathered or mothered a child outside of the marriage, they would walk away with absolutely nothing. Back then, under the harbor fireworks, he had signed it without a second thought. I still remembered how my heart leaped that night. But now, looking at the same signature, I felt absolutely nothing. The bedroom door opened. Alexander walked in, the faint scent of a woman’s perfume clinging to his jacket. “Still mad?” He sat on the edge of the bed. “I sent Leo to his mom’s place for the night.” “I know you love kids, Elena. I’ll talk to Leo. I’ll make him call you ‘Mommy.’” Without looking up from my laptop, I replied coldly, “He will never be my child.” Alexander’s face hardened. He walked to the window and lit a cigarette. “Elena, I don’t get it. Why can’t you just accept Leo?” “It seems like you’ve hated him from the very beginning.” He was wrong. Leo was the one who hated me. When we first met, I had bought him an expensive toy car to welcome him. In return, he used that very toy to trip me down the stairs, killing my unborn child. Thinking of this, I shut my laptop and looked him dead in the eye. “You know exactly why, Alexander.” “What?” “Every time you look at that boy, you see his mother.” Alexander’s hand shook, almost dropping his cigarette. After a long pause, he let out a harsh laugh. “If there were still anything between Chloe and me, do you really think you’d be sitting here as my wife?” My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a cold hand. He looked down on Chloe’s cheap tricks, but that didn’t stop him from using her to hurt me. Seeing that I remained silent, a smug smile returned to his face. “Be good, Elena. Didn’t you want to see the Northern Lights? I cleared my schedule for a three-day trip. We leave tomorrow, okay?” I turned my head away, refusing to engage. The next morning, Alexander saw my packed suitcases by the door and smiled softly. “You already packed? And here I thought you didn’t want to go.” Just as I was about to pull out the divorce papers, Leo came bursting through the front door, crying. “Daddy! Today is the School Open House!” “All the other kids have their moms and dads there. They laugh at me because my parents aren’t together…” “Daddy, please come with Mommy. Just this once, please?” Alexander looked at the boy, then at me. After a long silence, he nodded. The trip to see the Northern Lights was postponed. Again. He couldn’t even look me in the eye as he walked out the door. A few minutes later, a text popped up on my phone: [I’m only doing this for Leo. I’ll just drop him off and leave.] I stared at the screen, laughing silently. This time it was a school event. What would it be next time? A family portrait? A family dinner? A family vacation? With Leo bridging the gap, Alexander and Chloe would never be truly separated. But luckily, I had already built my exit ramp. At 2:00 PM, my bags were packed. I was waiting for the Franklin family’s private car to pick me up. But as I opened the front door, I ran straight into a sweating, panicked Alexander.

In his arms was a pale, whimpering Leo. The boy’s leg was covered in blood, looking horrific. Alexander was frantic, completely blind to my suitcases. “Leo got hurt during the school event! Go get the first-aid kit and call our family doctor, quickly!” Leo whimpered, reaching out his hands toward Chloe, who was sneaking in right behind them. “I don’t want Elena! I want Mommy! I only want my mommy…” Outside the door, Chloe looked up with tears in her eyes. “Alexander, please let me in. Just let me be with my boy!” Alexander creased his brows. Five years ago, he had kicked her out of his life. But today, for the sake of his son, he stepped aside. “Come in.” A flash of triumph crossed Chloe’s eyes. She quickly put on shoe covers, nervously playing with her worn-out shirt. Alexander looked at her, his voice softening slightly. “Have you had a hard time raising him alone all these years?” Chloe looked down, presenting her most vulnerable, fragile angle. “As long as our boy didn’t suffer, it was worth it.” It wasn’t until the doctor arrived that Alexander seemed to snap out of his trance. He stared at Chloe’s back as she followed the doctor into the bedroom, lost in thought. I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Can’t you see what she’s doing, Alexander?” Alexander was a grown, highly educated businessman. Of course he knew she was playing him. But he just sighed. “She is Leo’s mother. Preventing her from seeing her injured child would be inhumane.” “Her little schemes… they are understandable. At least her love for her son is real.” He rubbed his forehead. “Whatever. I don’t need to explain this to you.” “You’ve never been a mother, Elena. You wouldn’t understand.” Whenever Alexander was frustrated, he knew exactly which words would cut me the deepest. I looked down, my hands trembling as I thought of my lost baby. Maybe it was a blessing that my child was never born into this mess. Alexander felt the awkward silence and was about to say something when Leo’s voice called out from the bedroom. “Where’s Daddy? I want Daddy!” “My leg hurts! I want Daddy and Mommy to kiss it make it better!” Alexander immediately turned and walked toward the bedroom. The door was left wide open. The three of them looked like a perfect, happy family sitting on the bed. I clutched the small urn necklace resting against my collarbone—it held the ashes of my unborn child. A car horn honked from the driveway, pulling me back to reality. “Ma’am, your ride is here,” the butler whispered, looking at me with pity. I took a deep breath, tossed my phone’s SIM card into the trash, and walked out the door without looking back. Inside the house, Alexander stayed by Leo’s side until the boy fell asleep. Slumping onto the sofa, he suddenly realized his words earlier might have been too harsh. His wife had just lost their baby a few months ago. She had been so excited for that child. “Alexander, where are you going?” Chloe asked. “None of your business.” Alexander stood up and walked out to find me. As he looked around the empty living room, it finally clicked. Half of the house’s decor was gone. The only thing left on the coffee table was a signed divorce agreement. Alexander scoffed, thinking I was just using this to threaten him again. But then, his phone rang. “Elena?” he answered quickly. “Mr. Williams, it’s not Mrs. Williams. It’s the board of directors!” The voice on the other end was hysterical. “The Franklin Group has officially pulled all their investments! And Mrs. Elena has taken all her top tech experts with her! Our system is crashing!”

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[Ding—Mission accomplished. Would you like to extract from this world?] The moment the mechanical system voice chimed in my head, I had just stepped out of the prison gates. Today was my thirtieth birthday, and it was also the day I regained my freedom. Outside the heavy iron gates, three women were already waiting. Laura, Maria, and Sophie. Ten years ago, one swore she’d marry no one but me, another threatened to crash my wedding to steal me away, and the third promised to shield me from the world forever. Now, their eyes were icy, looking at me as if I were a piece of trash. “You paralyzed Julian. Did you really think serving two years in prison would wipe the slate clean?” Laura sneered. “Do you finally regret what you did?” Maria added. Julian. The little angel they kept close to their hearts. I smiled faintly, remaining silent. I bent down and rolled up my left pant leg. The metallic prosthetic leg gleamed coldly under the harsh afternoon sun. “I do,” I whispered. My only regret was being blind back then. My only regret was trusting them. What they didn’t know was that Julian’s legs didn’t even have a scratch on them. The one who had actually lost a leg, the one who had been tortured to the brink of death in prison for two years, was always me.

Before I was thrown into prison, I had shown them my prosthetic leg, just like I did today. But they didn’t believe me. “You’re a professional dancer, Davis. If you were really crippled, you’d rather die than live like this. Stop faking it,” Sophie had said back then. To avenge Julian, Laura used her family connections to make sure I was thrown into a cell block with the most violent offenders. Those inmates didn’t dare to kill me, but they found every possible way to break me. A dislocated jaw, a broken nose, parts of my scalp ripped off—that was my daily routine. The prison doctor would patch me up just enough to keep me alive, only to throw me back into the pit. Over and over again. Yet, the official reports sent to the guards always read: Inmate 44 is in perfect condition. Now, the fact that I was standing here, breathing the fresh air, was a miracle in itself. Suddenly, Maria grabbed me by my hair. Her fingers dug right into the spot where my scalp hadn’t fully healed. I clenched my jaw, breaking into a cold sweat from the blinding pain. Startled by my reaction, she quickly let go, but her brows immediately knitted into a frown of disgust. “Do you still think you’re some kind of prince, Davis? I barely touched your hair. Why the dramatic reaction? Is it really necessary?” I could feel warm blood slowly trickling down my scalp. The pain was numbing. I didn’t want to waste another second on them. I just wanted to find a cheap clinic, patch myself up, and use the system to leave this godforsaken world. I was a transmigrator, a soul traveling through parallel universes on love-conquest missions. And Laura, Maria, and Sophie were the most unusual targets I had ever encountered. I didn’t even have to try to win them over. The moment they met me, they did a complete u-turn and chased after me like crazy. Thinking back to those ridiculous memories, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. I had traveled through so many worlds and met people far better than them. How did I end up throwing my heart away on these three? But they obviously had no intention of letting me leave. Sophie grabbed my wrist. Her grip was tight, her eyes completely devoid of warmth. “Julian knows you’re getting out today, and he’s in a terrible mood. You’re coming with us to get on your knees and beg him for forgiveness. Make him feel better.” A sickening crack echoed in the quiet air. My wrist was broken. Again. Laura frowned slightly. “Sophie, watch your strength.” Sophie quickly pulled her hand back, looking at her palms in genuine confusion. “I barely touched him.” She was right. She didn’t use much force. But she didn’t know that the inmates in prison had broken my wrists so many times that the bones were fragile. They would snap at the slightest pressure. “Whatever. It’s just a fracture. It’ll heal. Let’s take him to Julian first,” Laura said, waving her hand dismissively. At that moment, Maria pulled out three envelopes from her purse. She took a quick glance at them, and after getting a nod from the other two, she tossed them straight into a nearby trash can. They were the love letters they had written to me years ago. Now, they found their own past words disgusting. “If I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t have wasted a single second on you, Davis. Only Julian deserves my love.” The blood from my scalp was still dripping, making my head spin. My vision started to blur. Sophie was the first to notice something was off. “Why is his forehead bleeding?” The blood dripped down my forehead, splashing onto the dusty pavement, blooming like tiny red flowers. My body swayed. I felt a strange sense of relief. Finally, they noticed. Maybe now they would take me to a clinic. Instead, Laura let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Playing the pity card? That trick doesn’t work twice, Davis.” “You weren’t like this when you were twenty.” “Over the years, under our protection, you didn’t keep your innocence. You just became more toxic and manipulative day by day.”

Laura mentioning my twenty-year-old self brought back a rush of memories. At twenty, I was the guy every boy in college wanted to be. I came from a wealthy Boston family and had the looks to match. More importantly, I had three stunning girls constantly by my side. Laura, Maria, and Sophie grew up together. Perhaps because their lives were so intertwined, their taste in men was identical. They all fell head over heels for me at the same time. However, they didn’t tear each other apart. Instead, they made a pact to compete fairly. They all had different ways of pursuing me. At twenty, I admired independent, confident women. I couldn’t resist Laura’s elegant, self-assured charm. So, I chose Laura. Everyone at school thought that once Laura and I got together, Maria and Sophie would move on. But they didn’t. They still put me above everything else. If Laura was even slightly neglectful as a girlfriend, they would call her out on my behalf before I could even say a word. Our dynamic was unconventional, but it worked. This lifestyle lasted until I turned twenty-six. That year, my family went bankrupt. My parents passed away shortly after, and I went from a wealthy heir to a nobody overnight. I refused their financial help. I wanted to stand on my own feet, so I got a job as a professional theater dancer. During a cast dinner one night, I ran into Julian, who was being severely bullied by some corporate sponsors. He was four years younger than me, a fresh graduate, looking completely helpless and terrified. I couldn’t stand bullies. Having been protected my whole life, I acted on impulse. I grabbed a beer bottle and smashed it over the bully’s head. The man let go of Julian, but his bodyguards immediately lunged at me. The restaurant turned into absolute chaos. Since I was outnumbered, I got beaten to a pulp. Fortunately, Laura and the girls arrived with their own security detail just in time. Their bodyguards pinned the fat, middle-aged bully to the floor, forcing him to beg for mercy before he was dragged away. Once the air cleared, Julian fell to his knees in front of me. His eyes were red as he cried, “I’m so sorry, Davis. This is all my fault.” I thought I would never see Julian again. But while I was recovering in the hospital, he showed up with a bag of cheap, bruised fruit. I was staying in a luxury VIP suite arranged by Laura, and Julian looked incredibly out of place. He rubbed his hands nervously. “Davis, if it weren’t for you that night, I don’t know what would have happened to me…” “I asked Laura, and she said you like exotic fruits. I bought these. I hope you recover soon.” The fruit he brought was actually half-rotten. But to spare his feelings, I ate it anyway. That night, I ended up with severe food poisoning, throwing up and suffering from acute gastroenteritis. Laura and the girls scolded me for being too naive, then went to confront Julian. Julian, who had never faced such fierce women, panicked. He apologized to me in tears while venting about how he had just been fired from his internship. Back then, I thought he was just a sweet, helpless kid. I felt sorry for him and wanted to help. So, I pulled some strings at the theater and hired Julian as my personal assistant. It was the single worst decision of my life.

“What are you zoning out for?” Laura’s voice snapped me back to reality as she shoved me into the back seat of the SUV. The four of us were sitting in the same car again, a setup that felt like a sick mockery of our past. I was exhausted. I leaned my head against the cold glass window, closing my eyes to endure the throbbing pain in my wrist and head. In the confined space of the car, the metallic scent of fresh blood quickly filled the air. Sophie frowned, sniffing the air. “Is that… blood?” Laura, who was driving, glanced at the rearview mirror with a deep scowl. “Ask him,” she snapped. Sophie nudged my shoulder. I forced my eyes open, looking at her with a dazed, empty stare. Sophie reached out and wiped a bit of the blood from my forehead with her fingertip. “Is special effects makeup really this realistic nowadays?” she asked, her voice laced with skepticism. Looking at her clueless face, the corner of my lip twitched into a bitter smile. “What’s so funny?” she demanded. I shook my head and closed my eyes again. I was laughing at how stupid they were. No, these three women were highly intelligent Ivy League graduates. They were just so blinded by their hatred for me that they refused to see the truth. Since I didn’t say anything, they stopped asking, assuming I was just playing a pathetic prank with fake blood. Soon, the car pulled up to a familiar luxury high-rise. Looking at the building, I felt as if I had been struck by lightning. Before my family went bankrupt, we owned the penthouse here. My parents had to sell it to pay off their debts. From the passenger seat, Maria spoke in a casual tone. “Don’t look so shocked. Julian said he loved this place, so the three of us bought it as a gift for him.” A wave of cold dread washed over me. Standing before the doors of my childhood home, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I stared at the three women who had once promised to stand by my side forever. “You knew I was saving every penny to buy this place back for my parents.” “Yet you bought it and gave it to Julian?” My parents loved this place. It held all our family memories. That was the whole reason I worked so hard as a dancer—I didn’t want to rely on these women’s money to buy it back. I was so close to having enough. Then, I was thrown into prison. And during those two years, they handed my home to Julian on a silver platter. My chest felt suffocatingly tight. The three of them exchanged glances, their expressions hardening. “Julian wanted it for his twenty-fourth birthday. Of course we were going to make his dream come true,” Laura said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “There are plenty of other penthouses in this building. If you like it so much, buy a different one.” “Besides, you made Julian a cripple two years ago. What’s wrong with giving him this apartment?” Sophie added. “We’re just helping you pay for your sins, Davis.” Was I supposed to thank them for stealing my home to pay for a crime I didn’t commit? How pathetic. Just then, the front door opened, revealing a pale, handsome young man. He was wearing loose white sweatpants, sitting in a high-tech wheelchair. When he saw me, Julian let out a soft gasp and quickly shielded his face. “He… why did you bring him here…?” Tears instantly streamed down his face. Two years, and he was still a master of crying on cue. If I had known he was this good at acting, I would have introduced him to a Hollywood agent instead of making him my assistant. Julian’s sudden panic immediately triggered the protective instincts of the three women. They glared at me like lionesses, ready to pounce if I even breathed in Julian’s direction. My head throbbed violently from his crying. Staring at his “paralyzed” legs hidden beneath the loose fabric of his pants, I spoke quietly. “Why don’t you roll up your sweatpants, Julian? Show them your prosthetic leg.”

Before my voice could even fade, Laura’s hand whipped across my face. Slap! The force of the blow made my ears ring sharply. Laura looked at me with deep disappointment. “Do you have to keep tormenting him, Davis? How did you become so heartless?” It was almost comical. My ears were ringing so loudly that their shouting sounded like they were underwater. Julian didn’t have to do a thing. All he had to do was sit in that chair and cry, and these three powerful women would fight his battles for him. When Julian first became my assistant, he was like a shadow, following me twenty-four hours a day. Whenever I hung out with Laura and the girls, Julian was always there. The balance of our four-person group was completely shattered by his presence. My dancing career was taking off back then, and within a year, I was headlining solo tours. Because of this, I was barely in Boston. Julian always found excuses to stay behind instead of traveling with me. Though I wasn’t happy with his work ethic, I didn’t make a big deal out of it. But gradually, I noticed that our active group chat had gone completely dead. Soon, I found out why. Julian had created a separate group chat with the three of them. They were talking and laughing in their new group every single day, leaving me completely in the dark. I could accept Julian joining our circle, but I couldn’t accept being pushed out of my own life. Especially when one of those people was my girlfriend, Laura. I had a massive fight with Laura about it. In a desperate attempt to get her attention, I used fake blood to stage an accident. When she saw through it, her eyes were filled with disgust. “I never realized how crazy and manipulative you are, Davis.” That fight led to a cold war. I stopped talking to Laura, and I ignored Maria and Sophie too. Then came my next tour. Julian tried to back out again, but this time, I insisted he come with me. And during the dress rehearsal, disaster struck. The opening act required me to descend from a harness fifty feet in the air. When Julian was checking my harness, I felt something was loose. I repeatedly told him to double-check and tighten the straps. But he smiled and assured me everything was perfect. At that time, the rest of the crew had gone out for dinner. Only the two of us were in the arena. Julian said, “Davis, if you’re scared, I can put on a harness and go up with you.” But he only put on the gear; he didn’t actually rise with me. The moment I reached the highest point, the harness failed. The safety latch snapped, and I plummeted fifty feet, crashing brutally onto the wooden stage. That height was equivalent to a five-story building. I didn’t die, but my body felt like it had been shattered into a million pieces. My screams of agony echoed through the empty arena. Instead of calling an ambulance, Julian dragged my broken body into a taxi and took me to a remote, poorly equipped hospital hours away. Because of the delay in treatment, my legs couldn’t be saved. The day they amputated my leg was my twenty-eighth birthday. And the only person by my side was Julian. He told me Laura and the girls were too busy to come. Though my heart ached, the physical pain was so overwhelming that I couldn’t think straight. Two days before I was discharged, Julian disappeared. When I finally went home with my new prosthetic leg, the police were waiting for me. Laura, Maria, and Sophie had teamed up to put me behind bars. They claimed that out of jealousy, I had tried to murder Julian by rigging his harness, resulting in his permanent paralysis. I was too broken, both physically and mentally, to defend myself. Before they dragged me away, I tried to show them my prosthetic leg. But they looked at me with cold indifference, mocking my “disgusting lies.” I shook my head, trying to clear the fog in my brain. With the massive blood loss and my weakened state, my body finally gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor. Before darkness claimed me, I heard Laura’s cold, mocking voice.

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Julian Sterling framed me for corporate espionage in front of the entire city’s media. He shoved a check in my face and told me to take the money and get lost. No one in that press room knew that the woman in the gray janitor uniform, the one my own husband was publicly crucifying, was terminally ill. I couldn’t even afford a basic IV drip at the ER. The real thief was Melanie Crawford, the woman he cherished. With just one sweet whisper from her, Julian made me take the fall for everything. I bit back the blood in my mouth. I told myself I just needed to survive long enough to get the clinical trial payout for my surgery. I just wanted to live a few days longer. But I died on the cold metal table in the emergency room. It was only after I was gone that Julian finally looked at the security footage from the fire escape. He saw the truth. He saw Melanie pushing me down the stairs. Later, he ruined Sterling Enterprises trying to avenge me. He even paid with his own life. But when we finally met again, we were nothing but two fading souls drifting in the morning light. He knelt before my grave, sobbing, begging for forgiveness. I knelt down and wrapped my arms around him. “Julian, I did love you. But it’s too late. We’re both dead.”

Eva’s POV Julian Sterling framed me for stealing corporate secrets in front of every major media outlet in the city. Nobody in the crowd knew that the woman on stage, dressed in a faded gray janitor uniform and labeled a thief, was actually his legal wife of three years. I was Evangeline Vance. And after the Vance family went bankrupt, I became the scapegoat carrying the debt of my family’s blood. Julian hated me to my very core. Meanwhile, Melanie Crawford, the thief and the girl Julian actually loved, sat in the VIP section below the stage. She watched my humiliation with a smug, victorious smile. “Mr. Sterling, is she really just a janitor at Sterling Enterprises?” “I heard she used to be the heiress of the Vance family. Why did she resort to theft?” The reporters pushed forward like a pack of hungry wolves, their microphones raised, camera flashes blinding my eyes. Julian stood at the podium in his custom-tailored suit, looking down at me. His eyes were as cold as ice, staring at me as if I were a piece of trash. “She used to have ties to the Sterling family,” Julian’s voice echoed through the microphone, completely ruthless. “But Sterling Enterprises will never harbor a thief. Evangeline Vance is suspected of stealing core data. I will personally file police charges and see this through to the end.” A simple “ties to the family.” With those words, he erased our three years of marriage and my years of devotion, turning me into nothing but a background nuisance. I bit my pale lip so hard it bled, my hand tightly clutching my lower abdomen. The stitches from my surgery had only been taken out last night, and the rough fabric of the janitor uniform was rubbing against the wound, making it bleed again. Melanie sat in the front row, her manicured fingers gently resting on her expensive white designer handbag. She threw a mocking glance my way. My throat felt tight. Just last night, Melanie had shoved the stolen files into my locker and whispered in my ear, “Take the fall for me, Eva. Julian will only give you the money for your surgery if you cooperate. Aren’t you desperate for cash? Aren’t you dying?” Yes. I was desperate. I was so broke that the hospital receptionist had thrown the unpaid bills in my face three times in public. I was so broke that I almost pawned the last photo of my late father. So here I was, stomping on my own dignity to take the fall for his mistress, all for the “experimental drug trial” money Julian had promised me. I needed that blood money to buy myself a few more days of life. Under the cynical stares of the crowd, I pushed past the security guards and stepped onto the stage. Each step tore at my surgical wound, and cold sweat poured down my back. I didn’t look at Melanie. My lifeless eyes were locked entirely on Julian. “Mr. Sterling.” I picked up the microphone from the table. My voice was dry and raspy, like I had swallowed sand. Julian’s brows furrowed in pure anger. “The evidence is clear. What else do you have to say for yourself?” “My payout,” I croaked. “The money for participating in the clinical drug trial. When will I get it?” The room went dead silent for a second, then erupted into whispers. “Clinical trial? Did she just say payout?” Melanie’s expression instantly shattered, her fingers digging hard into her bag. Julian stared at me, his disgust turning into raw, unshielded fury. “You stole from us, and now you have the nerve to blackmail me on live television?” “I only want the money you promised,” I said, looking him dead in the eyes. “The trial observation period is over. Pay me what’s in the contract, Julian. I earned this.” Julian’s face turned pale with rage. Dozens of cameras pointed straight at me. I could see myself on the massive screens behind the stage. Standing next to Julian in his expensive, glowing aura, I looked like dirt. I used to be Mrs. Sterling. I used to wear designer gowns, holding his arm at high-end charity galas. Once, he had taken a glass of champagne from my hand and whispered softly, “She’s not feeling well. I’ll drink for her.” But now, those memories were dead. Now, he looked at me like I was a disease. Julian let out a cold laugh. He snatched his checkbook from his assistant and quickly scribbled a figure. His pen pressed so hard it almost tore the paper. He ripped the check out, but he didn’t hand it to me. Instead, like tossing scraps to a stray dog, he threw it right at my feet. The thin piece of paper drifted through the air, landing right in front of my dirty sneakers. “Is that enough?” Julian lowered his voice, but the microphone was still on. His cold, mocking words echoed through the hall. “Take the money and get lost, Eva. Don’t ever use these cheap tricks to dirty my company again.” The camera shutters sounded like rapid gunfire. I stared at the check on the floor and slowly bent down. The sudden movement squeezed my wound, and my vision went black for a second. I didn’t kneel. I just trembled, pressing my hands against the cold floor, and slowly pinched the paper into my palm. Melanie let out a long sigh of relief in the front row, her eyes filled with victory. Julian, watching me bend over for money like a beggar, looked even more disgusted. “You really have no dignity left when it comes to cash, do you?” I folded the check and slipped it into my pocket, right against my bleeding wound. The paper pressed against my warm blood, crushing the very last urge I had to explain myself. I forced myself to stand straight and looked at the husband I had loved for three years. “Thank you, Mr. Sterling.” Julian’s throat bobbed, his brow knitting tightly. Maybe he expected me to cry. Maybe he thought I would scream and beg him to believe me, just like I used to. But I did nothing. I was just an empty shell. All my cries for help had died last night. Last night, when I was curled up on a freezing bench in the hospital corridor, I had called Julian ten times. He didn’t pick up once. On the eleventh try, Melanie answered the phone. Her voice was sweet and dripping with venom. “Julian is busy with me, Eva. Grow up.” Right. I had to grow up. So I came to the press conference. I took the fall for his mistress. I let my husband publicly ruin my life. I turned around, dragging my bleeding body off the stage. Security cleared a narrow path through the reporters. I walked steadily, though my fingers were shaking uncontrollably at my sides. Just as I reached the exit, Julian’s ice-cold voice rang out behind me. “Call the police.” I froze. The assistant next to him whispered in confusion, “Mr. Sterling, she… she already took the check.” “I don’t care,” Julian said, his voice carrying clearly over the speakers. “The money was to give her a bit of dignity. But she still has to pay for her crime!” I didn’t look back. I squeezed the check in my pocket so hard that the edges began to tear. At that moment, I realized Julian hadn’t given me dignity at all. He had only given me humiliation.

Eva’s POV Less than half an hour after the press conference ended, I dragged my pale, exhausted body toward the side alley of Sterling Enterprises. Before I could make it out, the sharp click of high heels sounded behind me. “Why are you running so fast?” Melanie stood under the hallway light, draped in an expensive, light-colored designer coat. The gentle smile she had worn for the cameras was gone, replaced by a venomous sneer. I stopped and pressed my hand tightly over the bloody check in my pocket. “I got the money. Leave me alone.” “You got a check that’s basically pennies to us, and you think this is over?” Melanie stepped closer, looking down her nose at my dirty, gray janitor uniform. “Evangeline Vance. You used to be the great Vance family heiress. Now look at you, begging Julian for scrap money in front of the whole city. No wonder he looks at you like you’re garbage.” My fists clenched, my knuckles turning white. “You put those files in my locker, Melanie. You know it was you.” Melanie laughed, not even bothering to deny it. “Yeah, I did. So what?” I snapped my head up, staring at her. Melanie stepped closer, whispering in my ear. “But do you have proof? The cameras in that hallway conveniently broke. The locker only has your fingerprints on it. And now, the entire media just saw how greedy you are. Who would believe you? Julian?” Just then, a couple of employees walked past the other end of the hallway. Melanie’s eyes flicked over, and she instantly reached out, gently smoothing down my dirty collar like a caring friend. But the moment they were out of sight, her fingers dug deep into the skin near my collarbone, pinching me hard. “You better keep your mouth shut! Julian already thinks you’re a pathetic thief. He hates even hearing your name.” She shoved me hard. My back slammed against the rough brick wall. A dull, agonizing pain shot up from my abdomen as my surgical wound stretched. I broke out in a cold sweat, but I didn’t make a sound. I just glared at her. “You’re scared. You’re scared I’ll talk about the clinical trials.” Melanie’s face darkened, but she quickly recovered with a cold smirk. “Why would I be scared? You signed the papers yourself. You went into that test group voluntarily. Even if you die on the operating table, it’s just a ‘normal complication’ listed on your consent form!” My heart skipped a beat, feeling like it was filled with shattered glass. Satisfied by my silent despair, Melanie reached into her designer bag, pulled out a gold credit card, and slapped it against my cheek. “Aren’t you desperate for money to save your life? Here’s a little extra.” I didn’t reach for it. So Melanie grabbed my collar and shoved the card down the front of my shirt. “Tomorrow is Sterling’s Annual Charity Gala. I want you to go on stage and give a speech.” “About what?” “Tell everyone how you went from the high-and-mighty Vance heiress to a pathetic janitor at Sterling Enterprises. Tell them how it feels to be stepped on.” Melanie’s voice was light, airy, and dripping with malice. “Make it sad. Make it real. The rich folks at the gala love a good story about someone falling from grace.” My hands shook. “That’s public humiliation.” “Exactly,” Melanie giggled. “I want to humiliate you.” The alley was dead silent, save for the howling wind. Melanie tapped my cheek. “Eva, do you really think you’re in any position to say no? If you don’t take this money, the hospital will cut off your treatment tomorrow. Besides, your job isn’t done yet. I still have the rest of your payout.” My fingertips were freezing. Melanie was like a snake, biting exactly where it hurt. I needed the money. I was dying. I had to pay the hospital bills. And somewhere deep inside, a stupid, pathetic part of me still hoped Julian would search for the truth. But today, Julian had thrown that check at my feet. He wasn’t going to look for the truth. He just wanted me gone. I reached down and gripped the gold card in my chest pocket. Melanie smiled. “That’s a good girl. Play the clown nicely tomorrow, and don’t ruin the mood.” “How much?” I asked. Melanie blinked. I gripped the card tighter. “I want to know the exact amount. Verbal promises mean nothing to me.” “Always about the money. You really are cheap,” Melanie spat. “Yes,” I looked at her with empty eyes. “I only care about the money.” Melanie looked at me like I was a stray dog. “There’s fifty thousand on this card. Do a good job tomorrow, and I’ll give you another hundred thousand.” “Write it down,” I demanded, holding my ground. “Julian promised me dignity today, and look how that turned out.” Annoyed, Melanie raised her hand to slap me. But I grabbed her wrist! I used every ounce of strength I had left. The wound in my abdomen ripped completely, and warm blood began to soak through my gray uniform. My face was as white as a ghost, but my grip didn’t loosen. “Write. It. Down.” Terrified by the sheer desperation in my eyes, Melanie took a step back. She wrenched her wrist free, pulled a notepad and a pen from her bag, scribbled a note, and slapped it onto my chest. “A hundred thousand after the gala! Happy now, you freak?” Melanie turned and walked away in her high heels. After a few steps, she looked back with a wicked smile. “Oh, by the way. Julian will be there tomorrow.” “When you’re up there begging like a dog, make sure to look him in the eyes. Let him see what his ex-wife is willing to do for a few bucks.” I didn’t look back. The cold wind blew down the alley, plastering the bloody uniform against my skin. The pain was so bad I couldn’t even stand straight, but I held the note and the card tightly in my hand. Pain didn’t matter. Humiliation didn’t matter. As long as the money was real, I could take it. As soon as I walked out of the Sterling building, my phone buzzed violently. It was a final notice from the hospital. I glanced at the screen, turned it off, and kept walking. I had to go to the gala tomorrow.

Eva’s POV Before the charity gala started, Melanie pushed me into a dark corner near the backstage entrance. “When the host calls your name, you get up there.” I clutched the thin note in my hand. “Do you have the remaining hundred thousand?” Melanie’s smile instantly vanished. “Do you think I’m going to run off on you?” “Yes.” Melanie stared at me and let out a cold laugh. “Fine. If you beg well enough up there, you’ll get your money.” From the main hall, loud applause echoed. The host’s voice boomed through the high-end speakers. “Tonight, besides our new project launch, we have a very special guest. We have the former heiress of the Vance family. She’s here to tell us what it feels like to fall from the clouds straight into the dirt.” The crowd erupted into laughter. Melanie patted the dust off my shoulder with fake kindness. “Go on. Show the high society of this city how cheap your life is.” I walked onto the stage like a robot. The bright spotlights hit me, making my vision go blurry. The first person I saw in the front row was Julian. Melanie sat right next to him, tilting her chin up at me. Julian, however, was looking down at his tablet, not even sparing me a glance. The host handed me the microphone, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Ms. Vance, I heard you used to be a high-society socialite, but now you’re cleaning toilets at Sterling. How do you handle such a massive fall?” The crowd laughed even louder. I held the microphone. The cold metal felt freezing against my sweaty palm. “I have no choice but to handle it.” The laughter grew louder. I looked at the crowd with an expressionless face. “The Vance family is broke. My father is dead. I have no other skills, so I clean. I do the dirtiest work.” Some people pulled out their phones, recording me like I was an animal in a zoo. “I used to sit where you are sitting, listening to others. Now, I stand here as a stepping stone. I am your entertainment.” The laughter in the room slowly died down. Melanie’s smile stiffened, and she glanced nervously at Julian. Julian’s hand paused over his tablet. He finally raised his head and looked at me on the stage. Our eyes met. His eyes were cold, filled with disgust. He looked at me as if my public humiliation was entirely my own fault. The wound in my abdomen was throbbing violently. I could barely stand. But I gripped the microphone and kept going. “I need money. I will do anything for money. Cleaning, experimental drug trials, taking the fall for others… as long as you pay me, I will do it.” When I said “taking the fall,” the room went completely silent. Melanie’s face turned pale. Julian’s fingers gripped his tablet so hard his knuckles turned white. The host, sweating profusely, tried to salvage the situation. “Ms. Vance, you have a… unique sense of humor. So, what is the biggest lesson you learned from your recent theft?” I stared directly into Julian’s eyes through the glaring lights. “The lesson is… never treat someone else’s promise as your lifeline.” Julian’s eyes darkened completely, a terrifying aura radiating from him. Melanie couldn’t sit still anymore. She stood up, flashing a perfect smile as she grabbed a microphone. “Eva is just nervous. She’s talking nonsense. Please don’t mind her.” She walked quickly onto the stage, standing right beside me. She put a loving hand on my arm. But out of the crowd’s sight, her sharp acrylic nails dug deep into the flesh of my arm! “We brought her here tonight to show everyone that even when people make mistakes, Sterling Enterprises is generous enough to give them a second chance.” My arm was bleeding from her grip, turning numb with pain. The crowd erupted into applause, praising Sterling’s generosity. This wasn’t a charity event. This was Melanie stripping me of my last shred of humanity, cutting me piece by piece. The moment the gala ended, Melanie shoved me into an empty dressing room. The second the door closed, her fake smile vanished, and she slapped me hard across the face! Slap! My head spun. I tasted copper in my mouth as my lip split open. “Who gave you permission to talk about the drug trials and taking the fall?!” Melanie screamed, her face contorting with rage. I wiped the blood from my lip, my eyes dead. “I didn’t mention Sterling. I didn’t mention you.” Melanie sneered. She grabbed a stack of cash from her bag and threw it at me. The bills scattered all over the floor. “Take it and get out!” I looked at the scattered money. “We agreed on a hundred thousand. This is barely twenty thousand.” “You signed a note,” I said, pulling out the paper. Melanie snatched it from my hand, tore it into pieces, and threw the shreds in my face. Then, she stepped on the pieces. “Now there is no note,” Melanie whispered maliciously. “Eva, look at yourself. You get what I decide to give you. A cheap life is easy to keep alive. This is enough to keep you breathing!” Suddenly, the door was pushed open. Julian stood at the entrance. His eyes swept over the scattered cash on the floor, finally landing on my bleeding lip. Melanie gasped, her eyes instantly welling with tears. She immediately put on a helpless, crying voice. “Julian! I was just trying to give her some extra help because I felt bad for her, but she said it wasn’t enough… She almost ruined our project launch on stage…” Julian stepped into the room, looking down at me. I didn’t argue. I knew exactly who he would believe. I bent down. Under Melanie’s mocking gaze and Julian’s disgust, I picked up the cash, bill by bill, folded them neatly, and put them in my pocket. My desperate, pathetic behavior for money completely set Julian off. His cold voice cut through the air. “Eva, you really have no shame left.” I paused. I looked up, wiping the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand, and looked at him calmly. “Shame doesn’t pay for my medical bills, Julian.” Julian’s eyes turned ice-cold. He pointed at the door. “Take your money and get the hell out.” I dragged my heavy feet past him. As I walked by, Melanie whispered, “Spend it wisely, Eva. You won’t get another chance like this.” I didn’t stop. I pressed the twenty thousand dollars deep into my pocket, even though my hands were covered in my own blood. Twenty thousand was still money. It was still a chance to live. I couldn’t cry. I wouldn’t cry.

Eva’s POV By the time I finished at the clinic, the money I had left wasn’t even enough for a basic painkiller shot. The nurse at the counter pushed the bill back to me with a cold look. “Since you can’t pay the balance, we’re stopping your antibiotics and pain meds today.” I nodded quietly, folded the bill, and put it in my pocket. My abdominal wound had started leaking pus and blood. The rough gauze was stuck to my flesh, and every step felt like a rusty knife twisting in my stomach. I couldn’t afford a taxi, so I had to walk all the way back to the Sterling building in the freezing rain. My old backpack was still in my locker at the back entrance. It held everything I owned, including the last photo of my father. By the time I reached the back gate, it was pitch black. I leaned against the cold brick wall, trying to slip through the employee entrance, but two security guards blocked me. “Stop right there! Aren’t you the janitor who got fired yesterday?” one of them sneered. “Management gave strict orders. A thief like you isn’t allowed anywhere near this property.” My throat was so dry it felt like it was on fire. “I just want my backpack…” “How do we know you’re not trying to steal more stuff?” The guard shoved my shoulder hard. “Get lost! Don’t die on our doorstep. It’s bad luck.” I was already weak from the fever, and the shove sent me crashing against the rough brick wall. My vision went black, and I slid down onto the wet pavement. My gray uniform was covered in mud. I tried to stand up twice, but my legs gave out. Just then, footsteps came from inside the building. The guards immediately put on fake, polite smiles. I forced my head up, looking past the guard’s legs. It was Julian. He was walking out with his mother, Victoria. She was draped in an expensive wool shawl, looking as arrogant as ever. Julian saw me on the ground. But his glance lasted only a fraction of a second. Before I could even beg for help, he looked away in disgust, as if looking at me would dirty his eyes. Victoria frowned, not hiding her disgust. “Why is she still lingering around like a stray dog?” The guard quickly tried to take credit. “Ma’am, she claims she’s here for her bag. We were just about to kick this thief out!” “Her bag?” Victoria sneered, walking over to stand right in front of me. “The Vance family is dead and broke. What could possibly belong to you? You stole from our family, and now you’re trying to sneak back in?” My fingernails dug into the cracks of the pavement. “My bag… has my father’s picture…” “Julian,” Victoria turned to her son, her voice annoyed. “Melanie is waiting for us at the restaurant. Don’t waste your time on trash like her.” Julian was silent for two seconds. Then, he spoke coldly. “Let security handle it. Throw her out of the property.” Those few words crushed the very last ounce of hope I had left. The guards immediately grabbed my arms, lifting me up roughly. The sudden movement ripped my wound completely. Warm blood and pus began to run down my leg. I bit my lip hard, tasting iron. I looked at the man in the expensive suit. “Julian.” He stopped. “Are you really… not even going to ask?” My voice was as fragile as cracked glass. Julian didn’t turn around. But Victoria snapped at me, “Ask what? Ask how you beg for money on stage? Eva, if you had any decency left, your dead father would be rolling in his grave seeing you like this!” My face went pale. Julian finally turned his head. There was no pity in his eyes, only a cold warning. “Enough. Don’t mention her father. He doesn’t deserve it.” Those words hurt more than any slap Victoria could have given me. My father had loved Julian like his own son. He used to pat his shoulder and say, “Julian is a good, honorable boy.” My father trusted him, and so did I. But now, Julian was stepping on that trust, grinding it into the mud. “Throw her out,” Julian ordered coldly, walking away. The guards dragged me like a dead dog and tossed me onto the cold concrete sidewalk outside the main gates. My knees hit the curb hard, skinning my palms. The cash in my pocket spilled out, fluttering in the wind toward the street. One of the guards kicked the loose bills toward my face. “Get lost! You make me sick!” The heavy iron gates slammed shut behind them. The city traffic hummed in the distance, headlights flashing over my bleeding body. I crawled on the cold pavement, picking up the dirty bills one by one, smoothing them out, and tucking them back into my pocket. With trembling hands, I pulled out the worn photo of my father. The edges were white and frayed. He was standing in front of our old house, smiling so warmly. I pressed the photo against my bleeding palm, my body shivering like a leaf in the wind. “Dad…” My voice was choked with blood. “I can’t… do this anymore.” Julian’s car drove off into the night. No one looked back.

Eva’s POV I woke up from the freezing wind on the street corner. My hand was still clutching the crumpled photo of my father. Suddenly, my phone screen lit up. It was a text from an unknown number. It was an address in the old industrial district, with a simple signature: An old friend of your father. I stared at the message for a long time. My fever had gone down slightly, but my body felt completely hollow. I didn’t go back to the clinic. Instead, I used my last few dollars to take a bus to the address. I had to see this person. The shop in the old district was run-down, the metal shutter half-open. When I pushed the door open, a white-haired man was wiping down picture frames. He turned around, and when he saw my state, he froze. “Are you… Eva?” I nodded quietly, holding out my father’s photo. “You knew my dad.” The man was Tom Miller. He took the photo, his eyes turning red. “Back when your father was at his peak, everyone in this city respected him. How did you end up like this?” I held onto the edge of the desk, my knuckles white. “Tom… why did my dad go bankrupt? Why did he jump from that building?” Tom’s face fell. He sighed, reached into the deepest drawer of his cabinet, and pulled out a dusty, yellowed folder. “The night before your father passed, he came to see me. He said if you never asked, I should keep this a secret forever. But if you ever came looking for the truth, I should give this to you.” I stared at the folder. Tom looked at me, his voice shaking. “Eva, for the past three years, have you really believed that the Vance family went bankrupt because of bad management? Have you really believed you owed Julian Sterling?” My throat closed up. Yes. Julian told me, Victoria told me, the whole city told me that my father had left a mess that almost ruined the Sterling family. That was why I kept my head down. Why I took the blame. Why I let them stomp on my dignity! Tom shoved the folder into my hands, his teeth clenched in anger. “Your father didn’t owe them a single dime! He put up the entire Vance family’s assets as collateral to save the Sterlings when their project ran out of funding!” “But when the project failed, the Sterling family pulled out to save themselves! Your father was hunted by banks and loan sharks until he had no choice but to end his life!” “The Sterlings saved their company, and your father became their scapegoat!” Boom. It felt like a bomb went off in my head. My hands shook violently as I tore open the folder. Inside was a property transfer document and several old receipts. Every single page had my father’s signature and the Sterling family’s stamp. The documents clearly stated: The Sterling family agrees to cover all subsequent project losses. But that line had been crossed out with black ink. A liability waiver page had been added to the back. And on that page, there was no signature from my father, only the Sterling family’s stamp! I stared at the red stamp, my vision going black. My chest ached with pure hatred and despair. The Sterling family took everything my father had, bled us dry, and then brainwashed me into thinking I was the one who owed them?! “Your father wasn’t a criminal,” Tom sobbed. “He was set up by the Sterlings!” The sharp edges of the paper cut into my palm, my blood dripping onto the documents. I remembered Victoria sneering, “You stole from us.” I remembered Julian telling the guards to throw me out like trash. I remembered him throwing the check at my feet. This time, the pain wasn’t from my surgical wound. It was in my bones. It was the pain of being skinned alive and serving the very people who destroyed my family. “Does Julian know?” My voice sounded like it was coming from a grave. Tom paused. “Julian was young back then. He might not have known the details. But his mother definitely did!” I let out a laugh. It was a dry, raspy sound, and blood leaked from my split lip. “Just because he didn’t know, he had the right to drag me through the dirt?” Tom couldn’t answer. With red eyes, he pulled a heavy metal box from his desk. “Your father left this for you. He said inside are all the proofs that the Vance family never owed anyone anything.” I took the metal box. At that moment, my body reached its absolute limit. “Eva, you look terrible. Let me take you to the hospital!” Tom said, trying to help me. “No,” I pushed his hand away, holding the folder and the metal box tightly against my chest. “I need to go to Sterling. I need to ask him myself.” I turned and walked out. The afternoon sun was blinding. As soon as I crossed the street, the sounds of the city began to fade. The metal box felt heavier and heavier, and a wave of pain hit my abdomen like a tsunami. I couldn’t fall. Not yet. I had to throw these papers in Julian’s face! I had to clear my father’s name! I had to tell Julian that I didn’t owe him a damn thing! It was his family that owed us a life! I bit my lip hard, gripping the metal railing by the sidewalk. My fingernails bent back, drawing blood. But my broken body couldn’t hold on any longer. Clatter. The heavy metal box fell onto the hard asphalt. My world went black, and my body collapsed onto the street. The documents slipped out of the folder, fluttering in the wind. Bystanders screamed and rushed over. “Call 911! Someone collapsed!” In the last second of consciousness, my fingers were still gripping the edge of the documents. I was not a criminal.

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