Category: English

At 3 AM on Valentine’s Day, my husband’s little mistress bought a trending hashtag on X. “The great Victor Harding just got my nickname tattooed on his ‘manhood.’ Please take good care of him over the next few days, Mrs. Harding.” Social media blew up. The whole of New York City was taking bets. Would I pay a fortune to bury the scandal like I did the year before last? Or would I show up at the mistress’s door to tear her apart, just like last year? Almost everyone was placing bets. Only my husband, the one who loved the drama most, replied lightly under that trending hashtag. “Don’t be jealous, wifey. No matter what they tattoo, they’ll never be as beautiful as you were back then.” Page Six immediately dug up a photo of me at eighteen, arriving in Manhattan with Victor Harding. He carried me off the yacht, bathed in the flashes of cameras and the stares of the crowd. That scene overlapped with the massive headline in the tabloids: [Knocked-Up Mrs. Harding is SO Forgiving!] I looked at the gossip and rumors, but I didn’t get angry like I usually did. I calmly picked up my phone and posted a photo under that explosive hashtag—a picture of me resting against a muscular man’s chest. “Deeply in love. Do not disturb.” … The photo went out, but I didn’t see the expected wave of mockery. Less than three minutes later, my account was banned for “spreading false information.” My iMessage thread with Victor, which had been empty all year, was suddenly flooded with his texts. “Who is that guy?” “Where are you right now? Get your ass home!” “Not replying? Fine. Don’t let me catch you two, or I’ll make you pay!” After seven years of marriage, this was the first time I had to think about how to reply to him, rather than finding an excuse to bother him. But looking at his profile picture—the fifth matching couples’ avatar he had changed to this month just for Ashley—my fingers paused. Suddenly, I felt it was all so meaningless. I simply turned off my phone, rolled over, and went to sleep. Half an hour later, the door to my Four Seasons hotel suite was kicked open. Before I could even react, an iron grip seized my arm. Victor was breathing heavily, his eyes sharp as an eagle’s. “Where is the guy?” I tried to pull my arm away, but I couldn’t. “He just left.” The moment the words left my mouth, he roughly dragged me into the bathroom and shoved me into the bathtub. With a cold face, he held the showerhead and blasted my body with freezing water. Watching me shiver from the cold, he used his free hand to rip open my collar, searching for marks. Smack! I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. Instantly, his cheek turned red, but it still wasn’t as red as the fresh hickeys on his neck. Victor laughed and threw the showerhead aside. Seeing the cold water mix with blood, I finally realized he had injured my wrist. “Wifey, I knew you were lying to me. You’re just jealous.” “What man would even want you? Everyone in New York knows you followed me here from the middle of nowhere when you were eighteen. Now, besides the title of ‘Mrs. Harding,’ what do you actually have?” He wrapped me in a bath towel and carried me to the sofa. The fruity cologne on his body mixed with the suite’s aromatherapy. It smelled absolutely nauseating. “I can allow you to be jealous, but you absolutely cannot hurt Ashley. You know full well who she is to me, aside from being my lover.” I lowered my eyes, watching his hand—the one wearing his family signet ring—press against my flat stomach. I said flatly, “Victor, how about I give the title of Mrs. Harding to…” “What?” Victor looked up, having just finished typing a text with a smirk. I shook my head. At that moment, both of our phones buzzed simultaneously. He had texted Ashley: “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. Love you forever.” I had texted an unknown number: “I want to go home. As soon as possible.” Victor looked at me with my wet hair, staring down at my phone, and inexplicably felt uneasy. In the past, every Valentine’s Day ended with me tearing apart whatever mistress he had, making the whole city know he married a fierce, unhinged woman. So much so that when I came home from fighting his battles, he’d look at me with disgust, retreating to his phone to flirt passionately with his other side pieces. And I would just look at him with pleading eyes, hoping he would quietly sit and share a simple late-night meal with me. Victor cleared his throat. “At the family Thanksgiving dinner yesterday… did you finally get approved for the family trust?” I froze. Getting voted into the family trust was a strict Harding tradition. Only the daughters-in-law who passed the board’s vote were considered true members of the Harding family. But I was the only one. I had waited nearly ten years, and I still hadn’t passed. Even the club dancers Victor casually brought home could easily get an approval vote. He always joked that it was because I was too abrasive and unrefined to blend into New York high society. Thinking of this, I shook my head. “Didn’t get it this year either.” A trace of confusion flashed in Victor’s eyes. “That shouldn’t be right…” If I didn’t know the truth, hearing those words right now would have moved me. I would have thought he was frustrated on my behalf. But his confusion wasn’t out of pity for me. I still remembered the phone call he had with his mother three days ago. At first, I thought he was just telling Ashley a bedtime story like usual. But the more I listened, the more wrong it sounded. “She’s pregnant. Let her into the trust this year. Otherwise, it won’t look good for her to be walking around the social circle with a big belly.” “Mom, I know you don’t like Rain… and I definitely won’t just forgive her either. Her first year, when she was supposed to pass the vote, didn’t I secretly swap her ballot for a veto?” “We’ve punished her enough for what happened back then. It’s time to stop.” Lying in the soft bed, my blood ran ice cold. So, all these years, he had been blaming me for her death (Sarah’s death). Victor seemed like he wanted to say something comforting, but before the words could come out, there was a knock on the door. “Mr. Harding, Miss Ashley says the equipment is ready. She wants you to personally go and… give her a matching tattoo.” Hearing this, Victor stood up so abruptly I was nearly dragged off the sofa. Lust surged in his eyes, and he completely forgot about me. Leaving behind a brief “take care of the baby,” he opened the door and left. My phone’s calendar notification popped up: [Day after Valentine’s Day: Get a divorce.] At the City Clerk’s office, I handed over my marriage certificate. A few seconds later, the clerk frowned and pushed it back. “Ma’am, this certificate is fake. The notary seal is forged.” My breath hitched. “That’s impossible. Please check again…” “There really is no record in the system. You and Mr. Harding are actually both listed as legally single…” The clerk turned the monitor around to show me. I suddenly felt overwhelmingly dizzy. Memories flashed frantically in my mind. One moment, it was our wedding day, when Victor impulsively took me camping on a private island and asked his family to handle the marriage paperwork. The next moment, it was returning from the island, taking the certificate from my mother-in-law’s hands, and noticing the strange look on her face. And then, there was the time after that incident happened. Victor was a mess for days, crying every night. I had heard his drunken confession. He said he didn’t want to get married. Only now did I understand. Maybe it wasn’t that he was afraid of marriage; he just never wanted to marry me. I stood up unsteadily. When I finally came to my senses, I was sitting outside a clinic room in the hospital. A few nurses pushed a cart past me. “Some people just have all the luck. You know Victor Harding’s ‘adopted sister’?” “Which one?” “Oh, you know, his little mistress they claim is his god-sister. Ashley. She’s got it made. Gets a paper cut and comes to the hospital for a full physical.” “Then look at some other people. Like her.” One of the nurses covertly pointed her chin in my direction. “Brought in the middle of the night a while back with heavy bleeding. From admission to discharge, the embryo was disposed of and not a single person came to check on her. So pathetic…” I subconsciously placed my hand on my stomach. That baby… Victor and I had both eagerly awaited her arrival once. Even after Victor stopped caring, I still hoped. But maybe it’s better this way. She left, so I could leave cleanly, too. I planned to go back to the house to pack my passport and IDs to return to the West Coast. But the moment I walked through the door, I noticed the atmosphere was wrong. Ashley was wrapped around Victor like a water snake. Her eyes were red, like she had just been crying. Seeing me walk in, she pointed at me and yelled. “Rain! Do you think just because you live with Victor, you can challenge my sister Sarah’s place in his heart?!” “Where did you hide my sister’s photo? Give it back right now!” Ever since I “married” Victor, Ashley had been finding trouble with me every few days. Either she claimed I hired thugs to ambush her, or she said I was the one leaking her scandals to the tabloids. At first, Victor still believed my explanations. Later, he would just watch me cry coldly, then assign a dozen more bodyguards to protect Ashley. He would brush me off, saying, “Her sister Sarah took care of me in the past. Now that she’s dead, I have to take good care of her little sister.” Even when I caught them in bed together, I was naive enough to believe his excuses. Seeing me standing there, supposedly unable to defend myself, Ashley smirked triumphantly. But then I said, “Who knows? Maybe your sister found out in the afterlife that you’ve been seducing her ex-fiancé, and she got mad.” “What did you say?!” Ashley stomped over in her Christian Louboutin heels, raising her hand furiously. Before the slap could land, I grabbed her wrist and gave her a light push. Exactly as I expected. I didn’t even use any force, but Ashley collapsed into Victor’s arms, acting like she had sprained her ankle. Her eyes filled with tears. “Victor, my ankle hurts so much! What if I can never dance again?” “But Sarah loved watching me dance…” The name “Sarah” was the ultimate taboo in the Harding house. Victor’s eyes instantly turned icy, chilling me to the bone. “Ashley is still young. Why are you picking fights with her?” “If she didn’t take it, she didn’t take it. Do you think she’d frame you?” I suddenly really wanted to ask: Has she framed me a few times? Try constantly. But thinking of our wedding night, when he secretly looked at that woman’s portrait behind my back… Thinking of how he actually went to a psychic to ask if marrying me had cursed that woman to death… I lost all my strength. “Apologize to Ashley. If you don’t…” Before Victor could finish his threat, I bowed deeply at the waist. “I’m sorry.” He froze slightly. He must have forgotten that in this house, my pride had been broken a long time ago. The last time I refused to apologize, the consequence was being forced to stand in the estate’s freezing lake for thirty-six hours in December. Ashley personally supervised, smiling as she watched me. “A homeless country girl coming to New York has to follow the Harding family’s rules.” Honestly, I really hate the cold. My bowing made Ashley smirk. She tilted her chin up. “Take off those emerald earrings and give them to me.” I took off the emerald earrings my mother gave me before I left the West Coast. Victor, of course, knew what they were. He frowned, a rare expression for him, and said, “I’ll have Ashley return them to you in a few days.” Return them? Of course she will. I thought to myself. Not only will she return them, but in a few days, I’ll make sure you both pay it back with interest. I ignored the two of them being overly affectionate in the hallway and went upstairs. They had clearly just had a wild round in the master bedroom. The maids were using glass cleaner to wipe handprints off the glass frame of our wedding photo. Others were carrying out tied-up garbage bags that smelled questionable. When the maids saw me enter, they bowed in greeting, their faces full of indescribable pity. I avoided their gazes and opened the safe. As I stuffed my IDs into my bag, a blank piece of paper fell out. I glanced at it, and an idea formed in my mind. Then, I took the wedding ring off my ring finger and placed it in its velvet box. “Everything is fine, why are you taking the ring off?” Before I could turn around, I felt the cold touch of metal on my neck. Looking down, it was a stunning sapphire necklace. “I’m afraid of losing it, so I’m putting it in the box for now.” I made a weak excuse and dodged Victor’s attempt to embrace me. He didn’t get the joyful expression he expected from me after giving a gift. He looked displeased, and a strange sense of foreboding hit him. “Isn’t this the Tiffany sapphire you wanted most? You’ve been talking about it for a month.” “Yeah, right. Thanks.” I did want it two years ago. But after seeing Ashley wear the exact same one for the last six months, I didn’t think it looked that pretty anymore. I gently pushed away Victor’s hand as he tried to rest it on my stomach. Just in time to meet Ashley’s hateful, doe-like eyes at the door. She swayed her hips as she walked in, bumping me out of the way. “Victor, Mom wants us to go back to the Long Island estate for dinner tonight. Let’s get ready.” Saying this, she glared at me triumphantly. Victor nodded. Usually, I’d go to the estate alone for a miserable, thankless dinner. Then the next day, my mother-in-law would have Victor bring Ashley for the real family dinner. Knowing my place, I calmly looked away. But out of nowhere, Victor said, “Rain, you should come with us tonight.” Those words made Ashley look like she was about to grind her teeth into dust. I thought about the antique safe hidden behind the painting in the Harding estate and nodded. It’s time to take back what belongs to me. Ashley dressed up dripping in jewels. I, however, picked an outfit from my closet that looked exactly like what I wore the day I first arrived in New York. This time, I didn’t desperately try to sit next to Victor and force my way into their conversations. Instead, I chose a seat far away and sat quietly. When we arrived at the Harding estate, Mrs. Harding greeted Ashley warmly. Then, she glanced at me from the corner of her eye and scoffed. “What are you doing here?” Victor, however, proactively took my hand. “Mom, how could we have family Thanksgiving dinner without my wife?” I looked down at our intertwined hands, a bit dazed. For a second, I couldn’t tell what year it was. Was it the year I loved him the most, or the year I still didn’t know someone else was living in his heart? Mrs. Harding said sarcastically, “Fine. Of course.” “But before you sit at my table, you have to follow tradition.” Tradition. The hazing. Years ago, when Mrs. Harding tried to use this to humiliate me—forcing me to serve her tea on my knees—I flipped the table. Back then, Victor laughed and called me rebellious and edgy. He said it was exactly his type. Today, he hesitated for a moment, then waved his hand. A servant shoved a cup of scalding hot tea into my hands. I endured the numbing pain in my palms. “Mrs. Harding, this is the last time I will ever serve you. After this cup, I want my blessed amulet back from the family vault.” “So petty. It’s just a cheap trinket. Our family doesn’t care about it.” Mrs. Harding didn’t notice the shocked look on her son’s face. That amulet was something I had climbed hundreds of cathedral steps on my knees to pray for, just to ensure Victor would live a safe and prosperous life. But today, I finally realized… This man was unworthy. Just as a servant retrieved the amulet and was about to hand it to me, Ashley suddenly raised her voice. “Godmother! My sister Sarah was supposed to be the real Mrs. Harding. Even though she passed away, she is still part of this family. By the rules, shouldn’t Rain serve her tea, too?” “At the end of the day, the first to arrive is the wife, and the latecomer is just the mistress!” With that, Sarah’s black-and-white portrait was brought out and placed at the head of the table. Looking at Ashley’s face, a fire suddenly surged in my chest. I pushed away the boiling tea they tried to hand me again. The hot liquid splashed, perfectly scalding Ashley’s foot. “Your sister and you are exactly the same—nobodies with no titles. Even back in the day, mistresses had to be invited in. You’re the only one throwing yourself at him.” I sneered and turned to scold the servant. “Give me the amulet.” “Don’t give it to her!” Ashley took a step forward. “Who are you to insult me and my sister? I bet you were the one who killed her! Otherwise, why would Victor have ever married you?!” I glared at her. “Don’t you know exactly how your sister died?” Ashley instinctively looked back at Mrs. Harding. In her panic, Mrs. Harding grew furious. “You bitch, what kind of nonsense are you spouting?!” In the chaos, Ashley suddenly leaned back, grabbing my sleeve, and knocked over the black-and-white portrait. Glass shards sliced my arm. The photo Ashley had been screaming about me “losing” earlier that day landed right at my feet. Ashley threw herself into Victor’s arms, wailing. “See! I told you Rain stole my sister’s photo! I heard they practice witchcraft in the countryside—she was definitely trying to curse Sarah!” “And now the portrait is broken! Those people were right, Rain killed my sister, and now she wants to kill me and my godmother!” I looked up and met Victor’s deep, dark eyes. He enunciated every word clearly. “Make my wife kneel. Make her bow and serve the tea.”

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Right in the middle of dinner, Liam suddenly put down his fork, looked at me, and asked, “Who is Jack Falcon?” My fork stopped in mid-air. My heart skipped a beat. Jack Falcon. That was a fake name my best friend, Chloe, and I had come up with one night when we were drunk. We made a pact. If either of us ever got into trouble and couldn’t be reached, we would use “Jack Falcon” as our distress signal. Besides her and me, no one else in the entire world knew this name existed. And Chloe had been missing for exactly one month. She said she was taking a vacation to Thailand. She never came back. I looked at Liam’s casual, unbothered face, and my heart sank inch by inch. How does he know that name? … The name Jack Falcon was born the year Chloe and I graduated from college. After finishing a whole bottle of cheap red wine, we were lying on the roof of our apartment building, just talking nonsense. The moon was huge that night. Chloe threw her arm around my neck, slurring her words, “Harper, let’s make up a secret code.” “What kind of code?” “Like… if one of us ever gets into deep trouble and goes completely off the grid, and someone else brings up this specific name, the other one will know something is terribly wrong.” I laughed at her for being so dramatic. But we still spent half an hour brainstorming until we finally landed on “Jack Falcon.” Because the name was so incredibly cliché and fake, there was no way someone actually had that name. In the entire world, only two people knew the meaning of those two words. Me. And Chloe. And Chloe had been missing for exactly thirty-one days. She had told me she was going to Chiang Mai, Thailand, for a few days to unwind. Before her flight, she even FaceTimed me from the duty-free shop at the airport, yelling, “Harper! What do you want? I’ll buy it for you!” That was the last time I saw her face. After that, my texts went unread. My calls went straight to voicemail. Her Instagram feed stopped updating after a single picture of a night market in Chiang Mai. I called the police. Her family called the police. The Thai authorities were supposedly investigating. But there was no trace of her. Alive or dead. It was like Chloe had completely evaporated from the face of the earth. And now. My husband, Liam. A man who theoretically had absolutely zero connection to Chloe. A man who wouldn’t even “like” one of Chloe’s Instagram posts. Just casually dropped those two words in the middle of dinner. “What’s wrong?” Liam asked, noticing my frozen state. He gave a small smile. “Why do you look so weird?” “Nothing.” I looked down and shoved a piece of chicken into my mouth, tasting absolutely nothing. “I’ve just never heard that name before. Where did you hear it?” “Oh, a friend mentioned it.” Liam picked up his water glass and took a sip. “Just asking.” He seamlessly changed the subject, moving on to talk about something happening at his firm. But I didn’t hear a single word he said. There was only one thought screaming in my head. How does he know that name? How the hell does he know? After dinner, Liam went to take a shower. I sat on the living room sofa, my palms sweating. The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom. I glanced at the bathroom door, stood up, and walked over to his phone resting on the dining table. I knew his passcode. It was our wedding anniversary. I unlocked the phone, my fingers trembling as I scrolled through his texts, his call logs, his Notes app. Nothing. It was perfectly clean. Unnaturally clean. A normal person’s phone is never this empty. I moved to his laptop. It was sitting on his desk in the study. I knew the password to that, too. Or rather, he had never bothered to hide it from me. I checked his browser history, his file folders, his downloads, scrutinizing everything one by one. Until I opened the cached data for a flight booking website. My hand froze on the mouse. One month ago. Liam told me he had to go to Chicago for a three-day business trip. I had even packed his suitcase for him. But the booking records showed a different story. He didn’t buy a ticket to Chicago. He bought a ticket to Chiang Mai, Thailand. His departure date was one day before Chloe’s. His return date was two days after Chloe went missing. The shower stopped running. I immediately shut the laptop, rushed back to the living room, threw myself onto the sofa, and pretended to be mindlessly scrolling through TikTok. Liam walked out, drying his hair with a towel. He glanced at me. “Not asleep yet?” “Yeah, just gonna scroll a bit longer.” I forced a smile. He walked into the bedroom and turned off the lights. I stared at the dark, closed door of the bedroom, my fingers slowly digging into the fabric of the sofa armrest. Liam. What were you doing in Thailand? The next morning, I told Liam my company had an emergency project and I needed to travel for a few days. He was tying his tie, not even turning around. “Where to?” “Seattle.” “When are you back?” “Not sure. Maybe three or four days.” He finally turned to look at me, flashing a gentle smile. “Be safe.” I smiled back. It was a midday flight. I didn’t go to Seattle. I flew to Chiang Mai. When the plane landed, it was 4:00 PM local time. The air in Chiang Mai was hot and sticky, and the unfamiliar scents hitting my face made me dizzy for a second. The last photo Chloe sent me was taken in this exact city. Night markets, neon lights, crowds of people. She was standing in front of a mango sticky rice stall, smiling like a kid. But I didn’t have time to be sentimental. I took a cab straight to the hotel Chloe had booked. I had looked it up before leaving. She had sent me a screenshot of her booking confirmation before her trip. It was a boutique hotel called the Lotus Courtyard, right on the edge of the Old City. When I got to the front desk, I pulled out a picture of Chloe and asked the receptionist in English. “Did this girl stay at your hotel a month ago? Do you remember her?” The receptionist looked at the photo and shook her head. “Her name is Chloe. She’s American,” I added. The receptionist typed something into her computer, then nodded. “Yes, we have a record of her. She stayed for three nights. She didn’t extend her stay, but she also never officially checked out. Her luggage is still in our storage room.” My heart violently twisted. Her luggage was still here. But she was gone. I steadied my breathing and asked the question I was most terrified to ask. “A month ago… did this American man also stay at your hotel?” I slid a picture of Liam across the counter. The receptionist took a look, then typed into her computer again. When she looked up, her expression was hesitant. “Yes. He stayed for five nights.” Five nights. Two nights longer than Chloe. “What room was he in?” “Room 312.” “And Chloe?” “Room 315.” The same floor. Separated by only two rooms. I stood frozen at the front desk, a loud ringing filling my ears. My first thought was the most cliché one: They were having an affair. Chloe and Liam, booking rooms next to each other in Thailand for a secret getaway. But the moment that thought surfaced, another voice in my head violently slapped it down. Impossible. Chloe despised Liam. It wasn’t just a polite, behind-the-scenes kind of dislike. It was the kind of dislike where she would mercilessly roast him to his face. Whenever I dragged Liam to group hangouts, Chloe completely ignored him. Once, when she was drunk, she pointed right at him and said, “Harper is perfect in every way, except her taste in men is absolute garbage.” Liam’s face had turned green. Since that day, they had refused to even look at each other. How could two people who hated each other be sneaking off to Thailand for an affair? Then why was he staying right next door to her? What the hell was he doing? I took a deep breath and looked at the receptionist. “I need to see your hotel’s security footage from that week.” She looked extremely uncomfortable. “Um… we would need to get authorization from the manager for that.” “Please ask.” “And it might require a police warrant.” “My best friend is missing.” I cut her off. My voice was calm, but my hands were shaking violently. “It’s been a month. No one has seen or heard from her. Your hotel might be the last place she was ever seen alive. Do you really think your manager is going to refuse to cooperate?” The receptionist stared at me, stunned into silence. Then, she picked up the phone. Twenty minutes later, the hotel’s head of security took me to the surveillance room. It was a cramped room with screens covering three of the walls. The security chief pulled up the footage from a month ago, starting from the day Chloe checked in. I sat in the chair, staring at the screen, my palms slick with cold sweat. Day One. Chloe dragged her suitcase into the hotel lobby and checked in at the front desk. She was wearing a white sundress, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, chatting and laughing with the receptionist. My eyes suddenly burned with tears. Then, in the bottom right corner of the screen, at the lobby entrance. A man pushed through the doors. Dark blue t-shirt, a baseball cap pulled low, and a black face mask. I knew that posture. I knew that walk. It was Liam. He didn’t go to the front desk. Instead, he sat down in the lounge area, picking up a magazine to shield his face. But his eyes were locked onto Chloe. From the moment she checked in, to when she grabbed her keycard, to when she stepped into the elevator. He watched her the entire time. A cold shiver crawled down my spine. “Fast forward,” I said. The security chief increased the playback speed. Day One, Afternoon. Chloe left the hotel to go exploring. The camera switched to the exterior of the hotel. About two minutes after Chloe walked out, Liam followed her. Same baseball cap. Same mask. He kept a distance of about sixty feet. Day One, Evening. Chloe was eating dinner at the hotel’s ground-floor restaurant. Liam was sitting in the darkest corner of the restaurant, ordering a single coffee. His seat offered a perfect, unobstructed view of Chloe’s table. Chloe never noticed him. Day Two. Chloe went out to visit a temple. Liam followed her. Chloe went to a night market. Liam followed her. Chloe stopped by the side of the road to buy coconut water, crouching down to pet a stray cat. Liam stood across the street, pretending to be engrossed in his phone outside a convenience store. Every single camera angle. Every single frame. He was there. My hands started to shake violently. This wasn’t an affair. People having an affair don’t act like this. Wearing a mask, keeping a massive distance, tracking her every move. People having an affair walk side-by-side, eat together, touch each other. But he didn’t. From start to finish, he never spoke a single word to her. From start to finish, Chloe had absolutely no idea he was there. This wasn’t romance. It was stalking. “What about the third day?” I asked, my throat painfully dry. The security chief pulled up the footage for Day Three. On the morning of the third day, Chloe checked out. Or rather, she left the hotel with a backpack. She was holding a physical map, looking like she was in a great mood. The footage showed her walking out the main doors and heading east down the street. Two minutes later. Liam exited through the hotel’s side door, walking in the exact same direction. And then, the screen went blank. The hotel’s cameras only covered the immediate perimeter of the building. The world beyond those fifty yards was a blind spot. “Do you have any other cameras?” I asked. The security chief shook his head. “That’s all we have. For street cameras, you’d have to go to the local police.” I sat in silence for a very long time. Then I stood up, muttered a thank you, and walked out of the security room. Standing outside the hotel entrance, I opened the maps app on my phone. Chloe’s final direction was east. If you kept walking east down that road, you’d pass a few residential streets, an outdoor market, and a gas station. And at the very end of that road, you hit the ocean. Specifically, a stretch of jagged cliffs overlooking the sea. I stared at that marker on the map, my fingers turning to ice. She went there. He followed her there. And then she disappeared. I rented a scooter and rode down that road for forty minutes. The road ended at an expansive, desolate coastline. The cliffs were terrifyingly high, with nothing but jagged rocks and violently crashing waves below. The wind was howling, so strong it was hard to stand still. This wasn’t a tourist spot. There were no guardrails, no warning signs, just an overgrown dirt path leading right up to the precipice. I stood at the edge and looked down. Nothing but loose gravel, thick brush, and a narrow beach constantly battered by the tide. If someone fell from up here… I couldn’t let myself think about it. I started knocking on doors in the area. There was a tiny, impoverished fishing village near the cliffs with a handful of scattered houses. I held up Chloe’s picture, asking every single resident I could find. No one had seen her. I asked more than a dozen households. Nothing but head shakes. Just as I was about to give up and leave, I spotted a little boy sitting under a massive banyan tree at the edge of the village. He looked about seven or eight years old. He was wearing a filthy blue t-shirt, sitting barefoot in the dirt, playing with something in his hands. I squinted. It was a smartphone. With a pink case. And a pop-socket shaped like a cat’s paw. My brain completely short-circuited. That phone case… I gave that exact case to Chloe for her birthday.

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Before my family went bankrupt, out of a plea from Mrs. Sterling and a bit of my own selfish desire… I chose Alexander Sterling, a man who vowed to stay single forever, as my partner for a strategic marriage. His face turned livid. He sneered, “I didn’t realize you were so desperate for a man. To think I actually treated you as a friend.” After our marriage, he completely dropped his usual aloof demeanor and started bringing girls home frequently. Whenever I tried to get angry, he would simply toss our marriage contract onto the floor. “Don’t forget, you’re the one who forced me into this ten-year arrangement. What made you think I’d play the loving husband?” “Being Mrs. Sterling is enough for you. Don’t wish for anything else.” My hands dropped weakly to my sides. Until the day my family went bankrupt and my father passed away. I couldn’t even scrape together enough money for his cremation. I had no choice but to beg Alex for help. He just replied lazily. “Your father died, why are you asking me for money? Though, out of respect for our marital ties, I suppose I can send over a cheap plastic tarp.” While Alex’s men delivered the tarp, the media was reporting that he had just bought a private island for his new flame. My heart died in my chest. I decided to sell my wedding ring. On the same day I laid my father to rest, I booked an appointment for an abortion. ………….. When I handed the wedding ring over to the auction house, I could hear the mocking whispers around me. “Look at her. The former Miss Hayes. How pathetic she is now. That’s what happens when you cross Mr. Sterling.” “Exactly. No one will even lend her a dime. She insisted on forcing a marriage with him back then. Bet she never expected the Hayes family to fall from grace while the Sterlings rose to the top.” “I heard she didn’t even have the cash to cremate her dead dad. Tsk tsk, talk about karma.” Listening to their undisguised malice, my heart felt entirely numb. After the Hayes family lost everything, with Alex’s tacit approval, everyone wanted to kick me while I was down. The auction began. I dragged my numb feet and stood at the side of the auction hall. As long as the diamond ring sold, I would have the money to pay for my father’s cremation, whose body was still resting in the funeral home’s holding room. Enduring a few sarcastic remarks from these people was nothing. But when it was my ring’s turn to go up, the whole room fell stunned, their eyes shifting to the center of the floor. I looked over in a daze. To my shock, I saw Alex and Chloe Davis. And Alex had clearly recognized the wedding ring. His face was ashen, his eyes locked intensely onto the diamond. No one else dared to place a bid. For the first time in the auction house’s history, not a single bid was made. The atmosphere was suffocating. If no one bid soon, the item would be passed. My father had been kept at the funeral home for too long; I desperately needed this money! I was on pins and needles, cold sweat seeping from my tightly clenched palms. Finally, someone raised a paddle. I looked over gratefully, only to freeze when I saw it was Chloe. She leaned coquettishly into Alex’s embrace. “Alex, honey, it’s still a gemstone worth a million dollars. Plus, it’s your wedding ring. Why don’t I buy it so we can wear it together?” The moment Alex looked at her, his expression softened instantly. “You like this? It’s old and used. Why don’t I just buy you a new one?” But Chloe shook her head. “No, I want this one!” Alex chuckled helplessly, his gaze full of indulgence. “Alright, then I’ll buy it for you.” Alex raised his paddle, but he only bid ten thousand dollars. The starting price was ninety thousand. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford to spend money; he just felt that anything I had worn was utterly worthless. I felt like a bucket of freezing water had been poured over my head. And after Alex bid, no one else dared to compete. This ring, worth over a million dollars, the ring my mother had cherished so dearly, was sold at the rock-bottom price of ten thousand dollars. The ring was delivered straight to Chloe’s hands on the spot. She slipped it on smugly. “Doesn’t this ring look so much better on me than on her?” The crowd immediately chimed in to flatter her: “It looks absolutely perfect on you, Mrs. Sterling.” “It’s like it was custom-made for you.” “Some people have occupied a position that didn’t belong to them for years. It’s time things returned to their rightful owner.” Alex wrapped his arm around Chloe’s waist, leaning down to whisper something in her ear, making her giggle endlessly. It was a tenderness I had never received. Clutching the ten thousand dollars, I numbly returned to the funeral home and smiled. “You can proceed with the cremation now.” After collecting my father’s ashes, I sat exhaustedly on the steps outside. Suddenly, a sharp pain ripped through my abdomen. I clutched my stomach, my face turning deathly pale. I had found out about this baby two weeks ago. I smiled bitterly. What terrible timing. So, gripping my last thousand dollars, I went to the hospital alone. “Hi, I’d like to schedule an abortion.” “At your current stage, the abortion pill is seven hundred, and the surgical procedure is eighteen hundred.” I hugged my stomach tightly, feeling a wave of grim relief. Thank God I found out early. Otherwise, I wouldn’t even be able to afford to get rid of it. “The pill is fine.” “Go down to the department for a physical exam first.” The obstetrician confirmed my intrauterine condition and wrote me a prescription. Just then, a chaotic flurry of footsteps echoed from the hospital corridor. I stared blankly out the door. A group of men in black suits was escorting a man who was carrying a woman in his arms. A swarm of doctors and nurses urgently crowded around them. Just as I looked over, the man seemed to sense something and glanced back toward my exam room. One look was all it took. It was Alex. He seemed to notice me, a flash of confusion crossing his eyes. The next second, the woman in his arms let out a frail whimper. Alex immediately turned back, his voice tense but incredibly gentle: “Don’t be afraid. We’re at the hospital now. You and the baby are going to be perfectly fine.” The doctor in front of me hung up her phone. She casually mentioned to me, “That’s Mr. Sterling’s partner. She just found out she’s pregnant, and he ordered every OB-GYN in the building to attend to her.” Saying that, she handed me the prescription. “Take the pills according to the instructions. The pregnancy will pass by the third day.” On my way out of the hospital, I kept hearing passersby gossiping in awe. “Oh my god, it must be nice to be rich. He got every doctor to drop what they were doing just for a check-up.” “Mr. Sterling is so incredibly sweet to her. I heard they’ve been together for three years now.” Three and a half years, I answered silently. Besides me, she was the woman who had stayed by his side the longest. Alex used to treat me as a friend. To me, he was uniquely considerate and gentle. No matter where he traveled, because he knew I loved stones, he would carefully select local gemstones and bring them back for me. He once orchestrated a breathtakingly romantic fireworks display just to make up for the fact that I missed the Fourth of July show. Everyone, including myself, thought Alex harbored at least a tiny bit of affection for me. Yet, when the marriage was arranged, he roared that I was the type of woman he despised the most. And Chloe was exactly his type. He would never allow his friends—the ones who always marginalized and hated me—to gossip about Chloe’s poor background, always fiercely protecting her pride. Ever since Chloe appeared, there were no other women around him. He even moved her into our home. When I had questioned him hysterically about it… Alex thoughtfully sent Chloe back to her room first. Then he looked at me dismissively. “Sarah, I love her. What exactly are you throwing a tantrum for?” “Have you still not realized that our relationship is nothing but a ten-year contract? The minute the time is up, I will divorce you immediately.” Hearing his cruel words, my eyes turned red. With disheveled hair, I slumped onto the sofa. Alex looked down at me from above. Suddenly, he trapped me beneath him. His hand gripped my neck—not tight enough to choke, but enough that I couldn’t break free. His eyes were bloodshot, carrying a faint trace of agony. He murmured against my ear with lover-like intimacy: “Isn’t this what you wanted? Are you happy now, Mrs. Sterling?” After saying that, he stood up, wiped his hands in disgust, and walked into Chloe’s room. After leaving the hospital, to save money, I walked two miles home. The first snow of early winter began to fall. I looked up, the tears on my face already freezing to my cheeks. Snowflakes landed in my eyes, making them water. But as I pushed open the door to the mansion, a blast of warm heating hit my face. Seeing me standing in the doorway, Alex’s expression turned frigid. “Close the door. Chloe is pregnant. Do you want her to catch a cold?” Chloe looked at me provocatively. “Sarah, what do you think? Doesn’t your ring look lovely on me?” I pretended not to hear her. Alex blocked my path, and that’s when I saw a dazzling diamond ring on his finger. In all our years of marriage, I had never seen him wear it. He had dug it out specifically for today. “Chloe is talking to you. Are you deaf?” I swallowed the burning sensation in my nose and replied with a tremble, “It looks lovely.” Only then did Alex step aside to let me pass. I walked upstairs, only to find the door to my bedroom locked. Alex spoke with a slow, deliberate drawl: “I’m converting that room into a nursery.” “Then where am I supposed to sleep?” “You can have the basement.” I widened my eyes, staring at him in disbelief. “Alex, my family put money into this house when we bought it. Why should I have to sleep in the basement?” Alex sneered, looking at me with pure contempt. “Your family was drowning in debt. If I hadn’t bailed you out, this house would have been auctioned off long ago.” “Sarah, you still owe me over five million dollars. How exactly do you plan on paying that back?” I stumbled a half-step back, my body trembling uncontrollably. Seeing my pain seemed to give Alex a twisted sense of satisfaction. He gripped the banister next to me. “Chloe is pregnant. You serve her. Keep her happy. I’ll give you three thousand a month to pay off your debt. How about that?” Even a basic housekeeper made a decent salary, but he wanted me to be Chloe’s plaything, offering me pennies. He knew perfectly well that right now, I couldn’t find a job anywhere else. I bit my lip so hard I tasted the faint metallic tang of blood. “Fine. I will make sure Ms. Davis is happy.” Alex seemed caught off guard by my submission. The rest of his insults died in his throat. He narrowed his eyes. “Whatever. Go make some pregnancy-friendly food for her. Keep it mild. She doesn’t like ginger, so mince it finely and hide it in the dish.” I nodded shakily. As I turned around, I caught sight of Chloe’s venomous glare from downstairs. Suddenly, my legs gave out, and I pitched forward over the second-floor railing. In a split second, Alex lunged, wrapping his arms fiercely around my waist and yanking me back. We crashed hard against the wall. Alex’s arms were locked like a vice around my waist, his chest heaving violently. It wasn’t until Chloe ran upstairs that he snapped out of it and quickly stood up. Chloe threw herself into Alex’s arms, sobbing. “Alex, are you okay? You scared me to death!” Alex glanced down at me, still sitting on the floor. I happened to look up. As our eyes met, I could have sworn I saw a flash of genuine panic in his gaze. But he quickly hugged Chloe back and comforted her. “I’m fine.” Chloe looked up, sniffled twice, and then glared viciously at me. She marched over, and before I could even process what was happening, she viciously kicked me twice—right in my stomach. “You bitch! If you want to throw yourself off a balcony, go ahead, but don’t drag Alex down with you!” I clutched my agonizingly painful stomach, unable to stand. Alex gave me a cold, indifferent look before pulling Chloe away. “Let it go, I’m fine. Didn’t you say your heart was racing? I’ll have the family doctor come check your heart rate.” When the doctor arrived, he noticed me curled up in agony on the floor upstairs and asked out of concern. Alex didn’t even cast a glance my way. “She just took a couple of kicks. What could possibly be wrong with her?” Hearing those words, the last ember of hope in my heart turned to ash. My gaze slid down to the carpet. The carpet felt warm, but my hands and feet were freezing cold. The pain in my abdomen refused to fade, and dark patches began spotting my vision. My consciousness faded into darkness. When I opened my eyes again, I was wrapped in a blanket, lying on the living room sofa. A broad figure sat at the foot of the couch. Alex was hunched over, elbows on his knees, his fingertips rubbing a foil blister pack of pills. I didn’t make a sound. He was facing away from me, but he knew I was awake. “You’re pregnant.” He turned around, his gaze dark and dangerous. “And these are abortion pills.” I looked at him expressionlessly. “Yes. That’s right.” Alex closed his eyes, forcing down a sudden, inexplicable surge of rage, trying to keep his voice level. “You don’t want to have a baby? Why?” I smiled bitterly. “Let’s get a divorce, Alex.” Chapter 2 Alex stared at me intensely, then suddenly laughed. “Divorce? How is that possible? You racked your brains, even threatened my mother, just to marry me. Just so you could be Mrs. Sterling.” “It’s only been five years. Why on earth would you want a divorce now?” Back then, when the Sterling family was facing ruin, it was his mother who had pleaded with me, begging me to marry Alex for the sake of our past friendship to save their company. So Alex actually thought I had threatened his mother. I let out a miserable, hollow laugh. He casually tossed the blister pack of pills onto my chest. “You left this out for me to find on purpose, didn’t you? Trying to make me go soft on you?” I picked up the pills, clenching them so tightly in my hand that the sharp foil cut into my skin, but I didn’t let go. Alex didn’t notice. He chuckled softly. “Playing hard to get?” “I’m clearing out the position for Chloe. Isn’t that what you want?” “Do you think I need you to clear it for her?” he sneered mockingly. It finally dawned on me. He was right. Chloe already had everything of Alex’s except the marriage certificate. Alex tucked the blanket around me, but his voice was vicious: “Sarah, I’m not divorcing you until the ten years are up. As for this baby, do whatever you want with it.” “However,” he added smoothly, “if you have the kid, I can knock off some of your debt. Fifty thousand for a boy, twenty thousand for a girl. Not a bad deal for you, right?” He patted my cheek condescendingly. “If you want to pay off your debt, have the baby.” With that, he stood up and walked away. He thought I would use this child to cling to him desperately. But as soon as Alex left, I swallowed the first pill. No. A child without its parents’ love shouldn’t be brought into this world. It would never be happy. I would rather be a slave to Chloe Davis than force this child to suffer. The next day, Chloe threw a tantrum, demanding lobster bisque. “Sarah, I really want something special today.” She blinked and lowered her voice mockingly. “But you’re pregnant too. It must be so hard to go out in this freezing weather.” A heavy blizzard was raging outside. Alex chuckled softly. “Three thousand dollars, Sarah. Do you want to earn it or not?” I put down my bowl and met his teasing gaze with dead calm. “I’ll go.” Alex’s smirk vanished instantly. I braved the heavy snow, running to several different upscale grocers before I finally found the fresh seafood Chloe demanded. When I pushed the door open, my hands frozen around the icy plastic bags, I heard her casually mention she wanted red velvet cupcakes from a bakery all the way across town. Alex looked at my boots, which were packed with snow, and frowned. He opened his mouth to speak. But I didn’t wait to hear it. I turned right back around and walked out into the blinding snowstorm. By the time I returned with everything Chloe asked for, my feet were red and swollen from the cold. Alex kept his face blank, but his tone carried a hint of reproach. “You insist on doing this to yourself. You never listen.” He grabbed a tube of ointment, intending to apply it to my feet. I dodged his hand, my voice distant. “I don’t need it.” Alex’s hand froze in midair. Seeing this, Chloe purposely called out for his attention. Alex’s face darkened. “Ungrateful.” He turned his back on me and went to coddle Chloe. By the third day, Chloe couldn’t stand being cooped up anymore and insisted Alex take her out to a club. Alex couldn’t talk her out of it, so he grabbed his keys. I was just getting ready to head to the hospital for my follow-up check. As he draped a thick down jacket over Chloe’s shoulders, he glanced at my thin coat. “Hold on.” Alex blocked my way. “Where are you going?” I obviously wasn’t going to tell him the truth. “The grocery store.” “Get in the car. Keep Chloe company at the club, and I’ll drop you off after.” I stared at him evenly, refusing to move an inch. Alex quickly lost his patience. “It’s a blizzard out there. Do you seriously want to pass out in the snow just so people can say I abuse you?” He forcefully dragged me into the car. Chloe was visibly displeased, but once we got to the VIP lounge, she was in her element. The others at the table didn’t dare force her to drink, so whenever they lost a game, they shoved the shot glasses in front of me. “Sarah, you should be fine to drink this, right?” Chloe smiled at me. “Yeah, Sarah, take the penalty for me. I’m pregnant, you know.” I clenched my fists under the table, my fingernails digging deep into my palms. I was pregnant, too. I didn’t move. The atmosphere at the table grew cold. Chloe frowned, tugging on Alex’s arm and whining. “Alex, make her drink it.” Alex looked over in silence. I said, “I’m allergic to alcohol.” “There’s barely any alcohol in this. It’s just sweet mix.” When I still didn’t move, Chloe’s face darkened. “Not gonna drink? Fine, then I’m not playing anymore.”

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In December 1975, I had a miscarriage at the military base hospital. When the nurse came out to find my husband, Arthur, to sign the paperwork, he was crouching at the end of the hallway, gripping the payphone. “Clara, please don’t cry. I’ll figure out the money for the baby formula…” After he finally signed my papers, he barely glanced at me. “Hazel, just hold on for a bit. Clara’s kid is sick.” And then, he left. I lay on the hard wooden bench in the corridor all night long. What I eventually got was a freezing, congealed bowl of cafeteria macaroni. I didn’t cry. Because I had already died once. In my past life, I waited for Arthur for thirty years. I waited until he climbed the ranks and got rich. I waited until Clara got severely ill and he stayed by her hospital bed, refusing to leave her side for even a second—while I was left to die alone in our freezing house with a 104-degree fever, completely ignored. Reborn into this life, I took that bowl of cold macaroni and dumped it straight into the trash can. “Arthur, we’re getting a divorce.” He froze. His metal thermos dropped to the floor with a loud clatter, splashing cold soup all over his boots. Arthur couldn’t believe it. “Hazel, what kind of nonsense are you talking about?” He stood in my hospital room, legs planted apart, arms crossed over his chest. He wore that classic Hazel, you’re being unreasonable again expression. I knew that look too well. I had stared at it for thirty years in my past life. “I’m not talking nonsense. We don’t have a kid now, so the paperwork will be simple.” “Is this because of last night?” He furrowed his brows. “Clara’s kid was genuinely sick. I just ran to the clinic to help out—” “And gave her the cash for the baby formula?” His jaw dropped, but no words came out. “That was the money I saved up for six months. A few dollars every week, hidden under my pillow. I counted it over and over.” I looked at him, my voice dead quiet. “I figured when our baby was born, I couldn’t let him go hungry.” “But my baby died last night. He never even got the chance to use it.” Arthur’s arms slowly dropped to his sides. “About that formula money—” “I’m not just talking about the formula money.” I threw off the thin blanket and got out of bed. My knees were weak, and I had to grip the bedframe to stand steady. “Arthur, when I married you, my mother gave me five hundred dollars in savings, a bolt of imported blue velvet, our emergency grocery fund, and an antique silver bracelet. Where are those things now?” His face changed color. “You took the velvet, saying you were going to have winter coats made for your unit. But on Christmas, Clara wore a brand-new dress. The exact same shade of blue as my fabric.” “You took our grocery fund last month, saying the squad was pitching in for a banquet. The mess hall never had a banquet.” “You stole my silver bracelet and pawned it for a hundred and twenty-five bucks. On Clara’s son’s hundredth day, he was wearing a brand-new pair of leather shoes that cost exactly a hundred and twenty-five bucks.” “As for that five hundred dollars, you claimed you mailed it to your parents our second month of marriage. Your brother wrote to us last year saying they hadn’t received a single dime.” He went from red to white, and from white to a sickly green. After a few seconds of dead silence, he managed to choke out one sentence. “How do you know all that?” Even though I had mentally prepared myself, my nose still stung. “You don’t need to explain.” I bent down and slipped on my shoes. “I’ll write the divorce application. You just need to sign it.” “Hazel!” he roared. “Over a few material things, you’re really going to divorce me?!” I straightened my back and glared at him with dead eyes. “That silver bracelet was slipped onto my wrist by my mother right before she died. She told me to wear it, to pretend she was still with me.” “You pawned it for a hundred and twenty-five bucks. To buy Clara’s kid shoes. He outgrew them in a month, and she threw them in the trash.” “My mother’s last memory of me. A hundred and twenty-five bucks. One month. The garbage dump.” “You tell me—is it worth a divorce?” His mouth hung open. He couldn’t force out a single syllable. I grabbed my duffel bag from the bedside and walked out. At the military base housing. I pushed open the front door to pack my things. Someone was sitting in the living room—Clara. She was wearing a vibrant, aqua-blue blouse. I recognized the color instantly. It was the exact shade of the last few yards of my blue velvet. Seeing me walk in, she stood up, her face plastered with the perfect blend of fragility and apologetic concern. “Hazel, I heard you weren’t feeling well. I came to check on you.” “Clara, your intel is pretty fast.” I walked right past her, crouching down to pull my trunk from under the bed. The trunk was completely empty. The grocery cash was gone, the fabric was gone, the wages I had saved up were entirely wiped out. All that was left was a few worn-out clothes and an enamel washbasin. Clara stood behind me, her eyes sweeping over the empty trunk, the corners of her lips twitching into a micro-smirk. “Hazel, I heard you and Arthur got into a fight?” “Not a fight. A divorce.” Her eyes lit up for a fraction of a second. Then, she quickly lowered her eyelashes, swapping her expression for one of deep worry. “Hazel, you need to think this through. Arthur is a military officer; a military divorce isn’t easy. With your health like this, if you leave, you’ll be all alone—” “Clara.” I stood up, dusting off my knees. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” “Go ahead.” “You’re wearing clothes made from my fabric, spending the cash he pawned my wedding gifts for, and eating the groceries I skimped and saved for—and you have the nerve to stand here and tell me to think it through?” Her face stiffened. “I—those weren’t—Arthur said they were issued by the military—” “Issued by the military?” I pointed at her blouse. “My mother bought that fabric in town right before she passed. Blue velvet, imported. The local tailor only got one shipment. Clara, do you want me to dig out the receipt and show it to you?” Clara’s lips drained of color. She took a half-step back, subconsciously tugging at the hem of her shirt, as if trying to hide it. “Hazel, don’t just spit venom at people—” “What venom am I spitting? You’re literally wearing my stolen property, flaunting it in my face. Pointing that out is spitting venom?” I took a step forward. She took another step back, her spine hitting the wall. “Clara, your brother saved Arthur’s life. I acknowledge that debt. But Arthur should be the one paying that debt, not carving the flesh off my bones to do it. If you want to eat well, dress well, and live the good life, go ask Arthur for his own paycheck. What right do you have to take mine?!” “I never asked for it! Arthur gave it to me himself—” “Himself? When he was stealing my dowry behind my back, you didn’t know? When he pawned my dead mother’s bracelet, you didn’t know? When your son was running around the yard in those expensive leather shoes, you didn’t know where the money came from?” Tears spilled from Clara’s eyes. I had seen those tears too many times. In my past life, every time she cried, Arthur would rush over to shield her, then turn around and berate me for being petty. But in this life, Arthur wasn’t here. It was just the two of us women in this room. “What are you crying for?” My voice turned to ice. “Do you have any right to cry? The one who should be crying is me. I lost my baby yesterday, and my husband ran off to call you about baby formula. I lay bleeding in a hospital hallway all night, and all I got was a bowl of cold macaroni. What right do you have to cry in front of me?” My words choked Clara’s sobs right back down her throat. She glared at me. The layers of her fragile facade peeled away, revealing what lay beneath—pure hatred. “Hazel, you’ve changed.” “I’ve changed? Good. The old, unchanging Hazel was almost bled dry by you two parasites.” I stuffed a few old clothes into my duffel bag and pulled the drawstring tight. As I walked to the door, her voice chased after me from behind. “Do you think you’ll have a good life after you divorce him? You have nothing! The second you walk out that door, you’re just a—” I didn’t look back. “It’s true that I have nothing. But at least from now on, every bite of food I eat and every inch of fabric I own will belong to me. And nobody will ever take a single thread from me again.” I slammed the door behind me. There was an old elm tree by the gates of the base housing, its bare branches dusted with snow. A man was standing under it. It was my cousin, Wyatt. He was wearing a heavy winter coat, a layer of snow settling on his broad shoulders. “Hazel!” He ran over to take my heavy bag, his thick brows knotting together. “I heard what happened. Arthur, that son of a bitch—” “Wyatt, let’s just go. We can talk on the way.” Wyatt drove his rusted Chevy pickup, and I sat in the passenger seat. Aunt Martha was already bustling around the house when we arrived. Seeing my face as pale as a ghost, she didn’t say a word. She just pushed me onto the warm sofa and went straight to the stove to bring out a massive bowl of hot chicken stew. It was a rich, golden broth, steaming hot and comforting. I took one sip, and a tear dropped right into the bowl. How long had it been since I had a hot meal? Married to Arthur for six years, every penny and grocery I saved went straight into Clara’s stomach. I ate stale bread and pickles every day, leaving me weak and anemic, barely able to stand while doing chores. Aunt Martha watched me devour the soup, wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and turned to Wyatt. “Go! Butcher that fat hen in the yard! I’m making Hazel a proper chicken roast tomorrow!” “You got it!” Wyatt rolled up his sleeves and marched out the back door. That night, Aunt Martha brought out a freshly made quilt for my bed. She sat on the edge of the mattress, gripping my hand tightly. “Hazel, this is your home. You stay here as long as you want.” I nodded. My throat was too tight to speak. I rested at my aunt’s house for two days before Arthur finally came looking for me. He wasn’t alone. Clara came with him. Aunt Martha was in the yard feeding the chickens. When she heard the noise at the gate and saw who it was, her face instantly darkened. Arthur stood in the front. Clara stood a half-step behind him, holding Toby, her head bowed like a fragile flower about to be blown over by the wind. “Martha, I’m here to take Hazel home,” Arthur said. Aunt Martha didn’t even put down the chicken feed bucket. She looked him up and down. “Take her home? What kind of nerve do you have to show your face here and say that?” “Martha, what happened between me and Hazel—” “What happened between you and Hazel is the talk of the entire base!” Aunt Martha slammed the feed bucket onto the ground, her voice booming. “You took her dowry to feed a woman on the side! You left her to miscarry alone! What right do you have to stand at my door and demand to take her back?!” Clara gently tugged at Arthur’s sleeve from behind, whispering something in a low voice. Arthur’s face shifted. He glanced back at her, then turned back to my aunt. “Martha, there’s a huge misunderstanding here—” “What misunderstanding?” I stepped out of the house. I hadn’t planned on coming out. But hearing Clara’s voice made me change my mind. Some things are better handled face-to-face than gossiped about behind closed doors. Seeing me, Clara’s eyes immediately reddened. “Hazel, I know you’re angry, but you can’t just—” I completely ignored her. I looked straight at Arthur. “Why did you bring her here?” “She said she wanted to explain things to you—” “Explain what? Explain where the clothes on her back came from? Or explain whose money bought the shoes on her son’s feet?” Clara’s face went white, and the tears immediately began to fall. Aunt Martha let out a cold scoff, marching over to stand beside me, hands on her hips. “I recognize that blue blouse you’re wearing. That fabric was bought by Hazel’s mother right before she passed. She only bought a few yards. Do you think our family is blind?” Clara’s tears fell like a broken string of pearls, but she kept defending herself. “I really didn’t know…” Aunt Martha snorted, turning her crosshairs to Arthur. “Arthur, you’re a military man. You’re supposed to have honor and logic. You steal your wife’s wedding gifts to subsidize an outsider, refuse to admit it when you’re caught, and then bring that outsider to our doorstep to put on a soap opera? Do you think our family has nobody left to defend her?!” Arthur’s face turned the color of bruised liver. “Martha, I didn’t steal—” “Then what do you call it? Borrowing? Did you ever pay it back?!” Arthur was struck dumb. Clara suddenly stepped forward, her voice pitching higher. “Hazel! What makes you so special?! So what if a few of your things were used? Arthur helped me because my brother saved his life! Since you married him, you should be willing to stick by him through thick and thin!” “Through thick and thin?” My voice overpowered her crying. “Clara, touch your conscience when you say ‘thick and thin’. Where was the ‘thick’? I was married to him for six years. I wore patched clothes and ate stale bread. And you? You wore brand-new winter coats, and your son wore imported leather shoes. Where was the ‘thin’? I swallowed all the suffering, and you swallowed all the sweetness. And you have the audacity to lecture me about sticking through thick and thin?” I backed Clara into a corner with my words. The toddler in her arms, Toby, got scared and started wailing. “You—you’re crazy!” “I’m not crazy. I’m completely sober.” I looked at her, enunciating every word. “Clara, what exactly did you come here for today? Did you come to persuade me to go back, or did you come to confirm that I’m really leaving so you can comfortably take your place as Mrs. Arthur?” That sentence acted like a scalpel, slicing off the very last layer of her disguise. Her lips trembled. The tears were still falling, but her eyes had changed. There was no more grievance in that gaze—only the furious resentment of being completely exposed. “Hazel, don’t think you’re going to live a good life just because you divorce him. You have nothing—” “It’s true that I have nothing. But at least I have myself. What about you? Even the tears on your face are fake.” Aunt Martha grabbed my arm and pulled me behind her, waving her hand at Clara. “Alright, alright! You’ve done your crying and you’ve done your acting. Now get lost! Our family doesn’t welcome you!” She pointed at Arthur next. “You leave too! If you want to take your wife home, start acting like a real husband! If you can’t do that, sign the papers and let her go! Stop wasting Hazel’s time!” Arthur, his face ashen, opened his mouth several times, but not a single word came out. Clara, clutching the screaming Toby, turned and stormed off. After a few steps, she looked back and shot me a vicious, venomous glare. Arthur stood there for a moment longer, before finally turning and leaving as well. Aunt Martha slammed the yard gate shut, dusted her hands off, and looked back at me. “That woman is bad news.” “I know.” “You were right to leave him.” “I know.” After resting for three days, I got down to business. I found a notebook and listed every single dollar, every single item, and every single grocery run Arthur had taken from me over the last six years. The date, the quantity, the destination—I wrote it all down, line by line. Wyatt helped me corroborate the list—he had helped me transport some of those items originally, so he remembered them clearly. On the fifth day, Arthur showed up again. Wyatt blocked the doorway, refusing to let him in. Arthur’s lips were purple from the freezing cold. Standing in the snow, he yelled into the house, “Hazel! Come back with me! It’s completely inappropriate for you to be living in someone else’s house!”

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I have been married twice in my life. The first time was a shotgun wedding to my childhood sweetheart, Arthur Vance, the heir to a massive New York real estate empire. Back then, I was young, proud, and completely uncompromising. When I discovered he had started looking twice at his new, young assistant, I had an abortion and filed for divorce. The second time was a marriage that grew into love with Ethan Sterling, a self-made tech billionaire in Silicon Valley who claimed it was love at first sight. After I remarried, my ex-husband Arthur sent me a birthday gift every single year. I never signed for them, and I never replied. I was determined to prove that I could live a wonderful life without him. Until the third year of my marriage, when I accompanied Ethan to his college reunion. A drunk former classmate gave him a thumbs-up. “When it comes to devotion, out of all of us, you take the crown.” “Back then, Chloe dumped you because you were broke. She took all your savings and ran off to Europe.” “You said you were going to tear her limb from limb. And then what happened?” “The woman you ended up marrying… isn’t that still her?” I turned to look at Ethan beside me. He feigned composure and explained, “He’s drunk and talking nonsense. You actually believe him?” The classmate grumbled in protest. “How am I talking nonsense?” “I still remember the night you guys broke up. You cried the entire night…” Ethan abruptly stood up, his voice cracking like a whip. “Shut your mouth!” The classmate sobered up halfway, his gaze lingering on my face for a long time. From his bizarre expression, I pieced everything together. No wonder this rising Silicon Valley star fell in love at first sight with a divorced woman like me. No wonder he never let me curl my hair and always preferred me in long white dresses. No wonder he was infinitely tolerant of my occasional mood swings. It turned out that before me, he had an unforgettable college sweetheart. I grabbed my phone and stood up to leave. My wrist was suddenly grabbed. It didn’t hurt, but it felt sickening. I yanked my hand free and slapped Ethan hard across the face. The entire room gasped. Ethan wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, but a faint smile touched his lips. Knowing him for three years, I was intimately familiar with this—it was the precursor to his fury. When I first moved to California to marry him, my ex-husband had followed. Arthur would show up at our mansion’s gates every day with a new stunt, begging for a reconciliation. When Ethan saw it, he smiled and asked if I wanted to go back to my ex. Before I could answer, he rolled up his sleeves and got into a physical brawl with Arthur. That very night, he launched a ruthless, scorched-earth corporate war against Vance Enterprises. That was what finally forced Arthur to retreat back to New York. But now, what right did he have to be furious? I was the one being used as a stand-in. Just as I was about to leave, a woman in a white dress walked into the private room with a radiant smile. One look was all it took for me to guess she was Ethan’s first love. The exact same white dress. The exact same long, straight black hair. Chloe noticed me as well. A glimmer of understanding slowly surfaced in her eyes. I bit my lip in humiliation, my nails digging hard into my palms. Chloe brushed past me and greeted Ethan with familiar ease. “New girlfriend?” “She looks so much like me. Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on me?” Ethan’s face turned even colder. “This is my wife. Show some respect!” She lowered her head, her voice beginning to tremble. “I didn’t know you were married. Why are you being so mean to me?” Ethan instinctively crouched down slightly, his tone becoming panicked. “Don’t cry. I’m sorry…” Before he could finish, Chloe covered her mouth and giggled. “Three or four years have passed, and you’re still so easy to fool.” Ethan ground his teeth. “Chloe!” He was annoyed, she was laughing. The others in the room went back to their drinks, accustomed to the display. I couldn’t take it anymore and stormed out the door. From behind, I heard Chloe’s malicious teasing. “Aren’t you going to chase her?” My footsteps paused. But I heard the man’s breezy reply. “Her temper isn’t as bad as yours. She’s easier to coax.” I don’t remember how I got home. As soon as I walked in, the wedding photo hanging in the living room looked blindingly painful. When Ethan told me it was love at first sight, I hadn’t believed him at all. After all, my childhood sweetheart of over twenty years had betrayed me. Let alone a stranger I had only met once. But after the messy divorce with Arthur, my parents blamed me and cut off my credit cards. And because I lacked hard evidence of Arthur’s infidelity, the tabloids tore me apart, labeling me a high-maintenance drama queen. The socialites in my circle were just waiting to watch me become a joke. Everyone said I would never find a better husband than Arthur. I refused to believe it. I was determined to prove them wrong. And luckily, I bet right on Ethan, a man with limitless potential. His devotion to me allowed me to make a stunning comeback. Those who mocked me for throwing away a diamond for a pebble were forced to shut their mouths. But it wasn’t until tonight that I realized his so-called “love at first sight” was built entirely on the lingering feelings for his first love. My stomach began to churn. I ran to the bathroom and threw up violently. When I came out, I walked into his home office—a room I had never set foot in. Among the rows of economics textbooks, a battered old journal stood out. With trembling hands, I opened it. A photograph fell out. Ethan, wearing his graduation gown, was looking with deep devotion at the girl beside him. The man I remembered as being incredibly calm—even in a fistfight—was, in this journal, just an ordinary guy who got jealous and heartbroken. [She said staying with me was a dead end. She wants to break up and move to Europe.] [I said no, but she left anyway. She took all my money with her.] [That heartless woman. When she comes back, I’m going to make her wish she was dead.] The ink on this page was smeared by water stains, the paper slightly crinkled. I turned the page. [I met a woman who looks exactly like her.] [The day we got our marriage license, I texted her.] [If she comes back, I’ll marry her.] [She didn’t show up. I’m not waiting for her anymore.] My vision blurred. So, while I was excitedly planning our wedding, Ethan was waiting for another woman to crash it. The sound of keys turning in the lock echoed from the front door. I didn’t move. Until Ethan rushed into the room. Seeing the journal in my hands, his voice dropped to freezing temperatures. “Who told you to touch my things? Give it back.” The day he proposed, Ethan did it to give me peace of mind. He voluntarily transferred half of his company shares to me as a gift. After we married, he was completely transparent with me. No passcodes on his phone, real-time updates on his whereabouts. But now, just because I touched something related to Chloe, he was furious. I offered a slight smile. “If your heart is already occupied, why are you afraid of me looking?” He didn’t answer, just reached out to snatch it. I gripped it tightly, refusing to let go. He started prying my fingers open, one by one. The sound of joints popping was clearly audible. I went pale from the pain and violently threw the journal at his chest. “If you love your first love so much, why did you marry me?” He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “That’s all in the past. Stop being unreasonable.” “Then look me in the eye and tell me you married me because you love me.” I didn’t look away, staring straight at him. Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His eyes flickered away for a second. The next second, he let out a cold laugh born of humiliation and anger. “You want the truth?” “Fine. I’ll tell you.” “I married you because you look like her.” “But haven’t I treated you well enough these past three years?” It was precisely because he treated me too well. So well that I thought he indulged me because he loved me. But what was the reality? Arthur loved the new and threw away the old. Ethan was nostalgic. But the person he was nostalgic for, the person he loved, was always his first love. Watching him carefully put the journal away, I only felt a sickening sense of irony. “Ethan. Let’s get a divorce.” Ethan’s movements paused, his tone impatient. “Evelyn, can you stop throwing a tantrum?” “As the lady of the Sterling household, who in Silicon Valley doesn’t treat you with respect?” “Throwing a fit about divorce now will only make us a laughingstock.” Those words sounded incredibly familiar. When I was divorcing Arthur, he said the exact same things. He said he just had “a little crush” on that assistant. He said there was no physical cheating, told me to stop making a scene. But I refused to be with a man who had someone else in his heart. If I could leave Arthur back then, I could definitely leave Ethan now. “Tomorrow morning, 9 AM. At the courthouse.” After saying that, I turned to walk past him. Ethan grabbed my shoulder. “Evelyn, don’t be so childish.” “Nobody wants to marry a woman on her third marriage who’s had an abortion.” I suddenly couldn’t see the man in front of me clearly. When I cried and told him about my past with Arthur, he had held me tightly, saying he wished he had met me sooner. Perhaps the heartbreak in my eyes was too obvious. Ethan’s tone softened slightly. “I’m sorry, I was just…” Before he could finish, his phone rang. I glanced down. No caller ID saved. Ethan hesitated, but ultimately chose to answer. “Arrested for a DUI? I’m not coming to bail you out.” “When you took all my money and ran off to Europe, you didn’t care about my situation either!” Every word was laced with disdain, yet every syllable betrayed how much he cared. Even though I had just demanded a divorce a second ago, it wasn’t as important as a phone call from Chloe. Seeing how desperate he was to go bail her out, the corner of my mouth twitched. “In such a rush to see your old flame? At least let’s finalize the divorce details.” Ethan frowned deeply. “Stop overthinking things.” “She just got back to the States. She doesn’t know anyone here.” “I’m her ex-boyfriend, after all. I’m just doing her a small favor.” He grabbed his car keys and hurried out the door. After the door slammed shut, I was left alone in the study. I went back to the bedroom and started packing my things. Not long after, a friend request popped up on my phone. The profile picture was a simple doodle of a kitten. Ethan’s profile picture was a puppy. After all this time, he still couldn’t bear to change his matching couple profile picture. After accepting the request, Chloe didn’t send a single message. I clicked on her social media feed and saw a completely different Ethan. He would let a woman draw all over his face with lipstick; He would go to the amusement park with her and take those cheesy photo booth pictures; He would even cook for her, making hot cocoa when she had cramps. These posts were from three years ago. Before Ethan even met me. Just then, Chloe posted a new update. [The bad girl gets everything.] The location tag was the most famous boutique hotel in the city. The photo attached was of two hands with interlocked fingers, clearly taken post-coitus. The man wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. But there was a pale indent on his ring finger. Ethan couldn’t even wait out the mandatory cooling-off period for the divorce. I bit my lip until it bled. In a moment of pure impulse, I called an Uber and headed straight to the hotel. The front desk refused to give me the room number. So I searched room by room. Apologizing over and over again. When I reached the very last door, I couldn’t bring myself to knock. What was the point of catching them in the act? Have a screaming match like a hysterical banshee? And become the laughingstock of the tabloids all over again? After a moment of hesitation, I didn’t knock on that door. I went home, dead inside. I consulted a divorce lawyer about the process, then fell into a heavy sleep. But early the next morning, I woke up to find myself trending: Evelyn Sterling Caught Sneaking into Hotel for Midnight Rendezvous with Ex-Husband. Before I was fully awake, an enraged Ethan yanked me out of bed. He shoved his phone in my face. The picture showed me standing outside the hotel, looking anxious. “Evelyn, running back to let your ex screw you—do you have no shame?!” My head was spinning, but I instinctively fired back. “I haven’t even seen Arthur.” “But what about you? Weren’t you also at the hotel last night?” A flash of panic crossed Ethan’s eyes, quickly covered up by furious indignation. “Nothing happened between me and her!” “But what the hell is this midnight rendezvous with Arthur?” I let out a bitter laugh, deciding to just lean into his accusation. “Then just assume I went to see him.” Seeing his pupils shrink in shock brought a twisted sense of vindictive pleasure. “I didn’t just see him. I told him I regretted divorcing him.” “Because no matter how garbage he was, he never treated me as a stand-in.” Ethan’s breathing instantly grew heavy, his fingers digging into my shoulders turning white. “You think I don’t regret it?” “No matter what Chloe did to me, she was never touched by another man.” “I married used goods for my first marriage. Do you have any idea how many people mock me?” A sharp smack echoed in the room. My palm stung. Ethan’s head jerked to the side, violent red veins instantly flooding his eyes. He raised his hand to hit me back, but froze mid-air. I tilted my chin up. “Hit me!” “If you have the guts, hit me back!” Ethan stared at me for a long time. Suddenly, he reached out and dragged me all the way into the bathroom. He turned the tub on full blast with freezing cold water. Ignoring my struggles, he forced my head under the icy water. “Cough… Ethan! You’re crazy!” He scrubbed violently at my skin. “Evelyn, I don’t hit women, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a temper.” “This is your one and only warning. I never want to see you contact your ex-husband again.” The icy water cut to the bone, but it was a fraction of the chill in my heart. “Ethan, what gives you the right to be such a hypocrite?” “You and Chloe were alone in a hotel room last night. You expect me to believe nothing happened?” He held me down in the tub, his voice dark. “You don’t have the right to question my business!” Water rushed into my nose. Panic and suffocation set in instantly. Just as I thought I was actually going to die by his hands, the pressure on my head suddenly vanished. I shot up, gasping desperately for air. Ethan looked down at me from above. “You stay in here and think about what you’ve done.” I scrambled up, instinctively trying to run out. But I was locked inside the bathroom. “Ethan, you can’t do this to me! Let me out!” Through the door came his cold voice. “I’ll let you out when you realize you were wrong.” A sudden, violent cramp ripped through my lower abdomen. A warm stream of liquid slid down my inner thigh. With trembling hands, I reached down. My fingertips came back covered in a horrifying crimson. “Ethan… my stomach hurts. Let me out…” I weakly pounded on the door, my voice trembling uncontrollably. Footsteps approached. Just as I thought he was going to open the door, I heard a scoff. “Evelyn, the lengths you’ll go to just to get me to open this door.” “Faking sick this time. Are you going to fake your death next?” The red pooling beneath me grew darker. Scalding tears mixed with the bathwater on my face. I had never been so terrified in my life. Even when I had the abortion with Arthur, it happened under anesthesia. Now, I was watching my own child dissolve into a pool of blood with my own eyes. “Ethan, I’m not lying.” “I’m having a miscarriage. Please… take me to the hospital.” The silence outside the door lasted only a second. “Evelyn, do you think I’m an idiot?” “You’ve had an abortion before. The doctors said it would be nearly impossible for you to ever get pregnant again!” “And even if you are pregnant, I have no intention of keeping that bastard child.” It felt like a knife plunged straight into my heart. Even drawing breath brought a dull, agonizing pain. I couldn’t hold on any longer, and I slipped completely into darkness.

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I was in the middle of something when I happened to glance at my husband’s phone and saw a text message pop up. [Dear Sunshine Academy Parents! Please remember to bring your little ones to the school’s opening ceremony on time tomorrow morning. Don’t be late!] I froze. My husband and I had been married for five years, and we didn’t have any children. Why on earth was he receiving a message like this? I initially thought it was just a wrong number. But a second later, another notification popped up. [Leo’s Dad, the children are going to absolutely love the million-dollar playground you donated!] [Also, the academy has prepared a grand thank-you presentation for you and Mrs. Sterling. Feel free to arrive a little early tomorrow! ~] Leo. Wasn’t that the name of my husband’s secretary’s son? I took a deep breath and quietly put the phone back exactly where I found it. Then, I sent a quick text to my assistant: [Pick me up tomorrow morning. We’re going to Sunshine Academy.] … A few minutes later, Arthur Sterling walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He picked up his phone, checked the screen, and a subtle, almost imperceptible smirk touched the corners of his mouth. Right after, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. Instead of answering, he started getting dressed and turned to me. “Honey, there’s a minor emergency at the company I need to handle. Don’t wait up for me tonight.” I pretended I hadn’t seen a thing. I nodded and walked him to the front door. But the moment he left, I pulled out my phone and opened the GPS tracking app for his car. That limited-edition Rolls-Royce was the five-year anniversary gift I had given him a week early. I didn’t expect him to use it to drive straight to his mistress this fast. Half an hour later, I followed the GPS signal to the most exclusive, ultra-luxury gated community in the city. I watched as Arthur smoothly pulled the car into the driveway of a massive mansion. Almost immediately, his secretary, Mia, ran out the front door. She threw herself into Arthur’s arms, whining playfully. “Arthur, I specifically dropped Leo off at my mom’s house today. Why are you so late?” My breath hitched in my throat. It really was her. Suddenly, I heard the voices of a few neighbors taking an evening stroll nearby. “That young couple is so in love. They’re so loud every night.” “I know, right? Once I even saw them doing it in their private pool…” “Well, that mansion cost thirty million dollars. Rumor has it the guy paid cash and put the deed entirely in his wife’s name. Don’t be jealous of young love.” I couldn’t help but let out a bitter, hollow laugh. The truth was, six months ago, I had found a real estate brochure for this exact neighborhood in Arthur’s briefcase. Back then, I was stupidly thrilled, thinking he was planning to surprise me with a new home for our anniversary. I never imagined he was actually buying it for Mia. Before I could fully process the sting, Arthur’s doting voice drifted over. “Did I not feed you enough in my office this morning? You’re that impatient?” Mia playfully slapped his chest. “I bet Mrs. Sterling keeps you on a tight leash, doesn’t she?” Arthur scooped her up into his arms effortlessly. “What Mrs. Sterling? You are my Mrs. Sterling.” “Besides, how could she ever compare to you?” What? Even though I had braced myself, hearing him say those words out loud still made my heart cramp with pain. When Arthur first met me, he was a broke kid with absolutely nothing to his name. My dad was fiercely against our relationship. To stay with Arthur, I eventually caved and agreed to my dad marrying his new girlfriend, Sarah. Only after I accepted Sarah as my stepmother did my dad finally stop opposing our marriage. Because of that compromise, I felt so guilty that I knelt in front of my biological mother’s headstone for three days and three nights, begging for her forgiveness. And this… this betrayal and humiliation was what I got in return. I bit my lip, pulled out my phone, took several clear photos of the mansion, and sent them directly to my private investigator and my lawyer. If I had the power to turn Arthur Sterling into a rising star in the business world, I certainly had the power to strip him of absolutely everything. Once that was done, I dialed Arthur’s number. It rang for a long time before he finally answered. His tone was laced with impatience. “Honey, didn’t I tell you there was an emergency at the office? Why are you calling me?” “Oh, right, how could I forget you’re at the office,” I said softly. “I just wanted to let you know that my dad is on his way to your office right now. He said he wanted to drop by and see you since he was in the area.” There was a dead silence on the other end, followed by the sound of frantic rustling. “Dad is coming?! Okay, I’ll get ready.” He hung up immediately. I let out a cold laugh. I looked up and watched him sprint out of the mansion, his shirt half-unbuttoned and his tie askew. Mia stood at the doorway, her eyes red, looking incredibly reluctant to let him go. I smirked. Why would my dad randomly drop by his office at this hour? I was just messing with him. But so what? I just couldn’t stand seeing them happy. After Arthur drove off, I walked up and knocked on Mia’s door. Thinking Arthur had come back, she threw the door open and lunged forward playfully. “Arthur! I knew you couldn’t bear to leave me!” But the moment she saw it was me, she froze solid. She stumbled backward in a panic. “Mrs. Sterling… no, please don’t misunderstand!” “What I just said was… no, it’s not what you think…” I looked at her, my face twisting with instinctive disgust. “All the ambition of a thief, but none of the guts?” “Secretary Mia, if you’re this pathetic, what am I supposed to do with you?” She wavered for a second, then finally straightened her posture and stared at me. She let out a laugh. “Mrs. Sterling, if you already know everything, why are you here asking questions?” “Don’t you think you look completely pathetic right now?” I raised an eyebrow. I didn’t expect her to have the nerve to talk back to me. “Pathetic? What’s pathetic about me?” Mia lifted her chin. There wasn’t a shred of guilt in her eyes; instead, they were filled with contempt. “You know Arthur doesn’t love you, yet you refuse to let go.” “Do you really think you can buy a man’s heart with money?” She seemed to gain confidence as she spoke, her voice rising. “Arthur has been sick of you for a long time! Otherwise, why do you think he hasn’t let you get pregnant in five years?!” “Heh, you don’t even know, do you? To make sure you never had a baby, he’s been secretly slipping birth control into your drinks every single day!” “If I were you, I would have packed up and left a long time ago!” I listened quietly, not interrupting her. Actually, I found it a little amusing. I crossed my arms, looking past her to take in the sprawling mansion, and then raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face. “So what if you gave him a child?” “As long as he hasn’t divorced me, you and your son are nothing but a dirty mistress and an illegitimate bastard who can never see the light of day!” “And this house behind you? It was bought with my money!” “If anyone is packing up and leaving, it’s going to be you!” “You!” Her head snapped to the side from the force of the slap. She looked at me in absolute shock. “You! You dared to hit me?!” I smiled, pulled the massive diamond wedding ring off my ring finger, and tossed it into the drainage gutter by the driveway. “Congratulations. You just picked up a piece of trash I don’t want anymore.” Her face turned pale, but she stiffened her neck and spat back, “What are you so smug about?!” “Arthur is the famous CEO of Sterling Enterprises now! He doesn’t need you anymore!” “Believe it or not, all it takes is one word from me, and he’ll divorce you!” I laughed out loud. “Is that right? Then let’s see exactly what he chooses tomorrow morning.” Without giving her a chance to retort, I turned and walked away. Arthur didn’t come home the entire night, but he didn’t try to contact me, either. It seemed Mia was a coward after all. She didn’t even have the guts to tell him I had confronted her. I slept incredibly well. Bright and early the next morning, I got into my assistant’s car. “Let’s go. Sunshine Academy.” I was genuinely curious to see what Arthur looked like playing the role of a loving father. By the time we arrived, the street in front of the kindergarten was already lined with luxury cars. A few minutes later, Arthur’s car pulled up. Right on cue, Mia stepped out of the backseat, holding her son, Leo. “Mr. Sterling! Mrs. Sterling!” The kindergarten principal rushed forward to greet them with a beaming smile. “You’re here! Please, come right in. The thank-you presentation is about to begin.” A crowd instantly formed around them. “So he’s the CEO who donated the new playground!” “Mr. Sterling really spares no expense for his child!” “I know, right? I heard he built his company from scratch and is worth over a hundred million in just a few years. Incredible!” Hearing the praise, Arthur looked incredibly smug. He took Leo from Mia’s arms and said with a doting smile, “If it weren’t for my wife building this empire by my side, I wouldn’t be where I am today.” “As long as my wife and Leo are happy, no expense is too great.” I found it utterly hilarious. Mia built an empire by his side? Did he forget that if my dad hadn’t invested fifty million dollars, he’d still be a low-level sales rep at a nobody firm? If I hadn’t leveraged my family’s network and resources, he never would have landed any of those massive contracts. Just as they were about to walk through the academy gates, I let out a cold laugh and stepped out of my car. I pulled off my sunglasses, staring directly at Arthur, and spoke loudly enough for the crowd to hear: “A man who married into his wife’s money actually has the nerve to keep a mistress and a bastard child on the side. You’ve got some real guts.” The moment Arthur saw me, his entire body went rigid. Mia, however, was quick on the draw. She immediately linked her arm tightly through Arthur’s. I walked up to them with a mocking smile. “CEO Sterling really goes above and beyond to take care of his employees, doesn’t he?” “Taking care of your secretary to the point of getting her pregnant, and then dropping a million dollars on a playground to keep her happy. What a generous boss.” The crowd exploded into gasps and whispers. The way they looked at Mia changed instantly—from envy and admiration to blatant disgust and contempt. “What? That woman is his secretary?!” “So she’s a homewrecker! Does that mean Leo is an illegitimate kid?” Mia’s face drained of color, and tears began to stream down her cheeks. “I’m not a mistress! Arthur and I have been together for six years! Leo is five years old!” She looked up at Arthur with a pitiful, tear-stained face. “Arthur, tell them. Isn’t that true?” Arthur finally snapped out of his shock and glared at me fiercely. “Chloe, why are you here?” “What exactly are you trying to pull?!” He wrapped his arm tightly around Mia, then turned to the crowd with an apologetic look. “Everyone, I am so sorry you had to witness this.” “This woman is our family’s maid. She’s suffered from severe delusions for years. She genuinely believes she is my wife.” “I kept her employed out of pity because she’s taken care of our household for so long.” “I never imagined she would follow us here today and cause a scene.” What? I couldn’t believe my ears. He actually called me his maid? The parents in the crowd immediately rallied behind them, pointing at me and whispering loudly. “So she’s just a crazy maid.” “The help these days is out of control. Delusional enough to think she’s the lady of the house.” “Look at her clothes. How could a maid afford that? She definitely stole them from Mrs. Sterling’s closet!” “Shameless trash! How dare she slander the real Mrs. Sterling by calling her a mistress!” Right then, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Mia: [See that? Arthur chose me!] [Why didn’t he come home last night? Hmm, so hard to guess. 😉] [I was going to let you off the hook and not tell Arthur you hit me, but you just had to come here and humiliate yourself.] Immediately after, a video file popped up in the chat. In the video, Arthur and Mia were in his office… in extremely compromising, explicit positions. No wonder Arthur didn’t come home last night or call to interrogate me. What I didn’t understand was where Arthur found the audacity to treat me like this. I looked up, staring dead into his eyes, and asked coldly, “Arthur, aren’t you afraid my dad will find out about this?” Hearing that, Arthur’s brow furrowed. Then, he actually leaned in close to my ear and sneered in a low voice, “Your dad? Your stepmother is about to pop, and rumor has it she’s having a boy.” “Do you really think you’re still getting a piece of the Davis family fortune?” So that was it… But what he didn’t know was that long before I agreed to let my dad marry Sarah, they had already signed a bulletproof prenuptial agreement. The contract explicitly stated that everything belonging to the Davis family would go to me. To put my mind at ease, Sarah had even convinced my dad to transfer all his voting shares in the company to me on the spot. Thinking of that, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. I quickly forwarded the explicit video and chat logs directly to my dad. Seeing me stay silent, Arthur’s face darkened. “Are you going to get lost or not?” “If you ever dare to pull a stunt like this in front of my wife and son again, don’t blame me for what happens next!” Hearing his threat, the crowd felt fully validated. The principal immediately rushed forward, eager to please. “Mr. Sterling, please don’t worry! I’ll have security throw this crazy woman out right now!” The other parents chimed in in agreement. “Hurry up and leave! Stop embarrassing yourself!” “Seriously! If you’re that desperate for a man, go stand on a street corner! Coming to a kindergarten to try and steal a child’s father—you have no shame!” Within seconds, several security guards carrying batons marched up to me. I instinctively took two steps back. “Don’t you dare touch me!” Suddenly, someone in the crowd reached out and tried to yank my handbag off my shoulder. “Isn’t this the new limited-edition bag that’s been sold out for months?!” “You psycho! Give that back to Mrs. Sterling right now!” “Stealing clothes is one thing, but trying to steal a husband?! Who do you think you are?!” “I say we strip her right here! Let the kids learn exactly what happens to thieves!”

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My boyfriend of three years, Liam, always looked down on my job as an Uber driver. He said it was a dead-end gig. That night, he told me he was hanging out with some guys from work. He said they’d probably be out late and he’d just grab a Lyft home, telling me not to wait up or pick him up. Around 10:30 PM, the app pinged with a new ride request. I accepted it out of habit, pulled up to the pickup spot, and waited in the driver’s seat. In the rearview mirror, I saw a man and a woman get in. The guy was hammered, slumping heavily against the woman. She had her head down, her hand casually slipping under the waistband of his pants. He tilted his head back, seeking a kiss, a deep flush spreading across his cheeks. He didn’t recognize me. As he moved, the necklace around his neck slipped sideways against his collarbone. It was the necklace I had personally clasped around his neck for our three-year anniversary. He had told me it was the best gift he had ever received in his entire life. 1 I pulled out my phone and deliberately dialed his number. A ringtone went off in the backseat. His body went rigid for a second. He turned his head slightly to squint at the glowing screen of his phone, then immediately flipped it face-down onto the leather seat. He buried his face back into the woman’s chest, not even bothering to look up. The phone rang six times before it went to voicemail. I called again. It rang out again. The third time, he reached down and hit “Decline” with swift, practiced efficiency, as if he were hanging up on a telemarketer. I slid my phone back into my pocket. Both my hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. The woman in the backseat looked up and barked at me: “Hey, Uber! What the fuck are you staring at? Keep your eyes on the road!” “Three miles took you twenty minutes. Are you intentionally taking the long way to milk the meter?” I didn’t say a word. Liam chuckled softly, patting her chest playfully. “Come on, Sarah. You know how these gig apps are. They just give rides to anyone. She drives like a fucking snail.” He paused, not lowering his voice a single decibel. “And she keeps staring at my abs in the mirror. It’s disgusting.” He said it with a smile. It was a tone I had heard for three years. It was the exact same flippant, dismissive tone he used when complaining about delivery drivers or sneering at waiters. Like he was talking about a stray dog blocking his path. Sarah, apparently a senior exec at his firm, snapped at me again: “The AC. Set it to 72. Do you not know how to work a dial? Your hands are shaking. Did you buy your license off the internet?” I adjusted the temperature to 72 degrees. I didn’t say a word. “I asked you a question. Are you deaf? Where is your customer service?” Liam chimed in from the backseat, his voice lazy and drawling: “What kind of class do you expect from an Uber driver? Don’t let her ruin your mood, Sarah.” “These bottom-feeders… they just don’t know any better. Let her drive. Don’t expect her to understand what decency is.” Bottom-feeders. The word slipped out of his mouth so casually, as flatly as if he were commenting on the weather. Sarah smiled, clearly satisfied. Her arm tightened around his waist, her thumb slowly tracing circles against the skin under his dress shirt. He didn’t pull away. He leaned deeper into her embrace. I kept my eyes locked on the road ahead. Without uttering a single syllable, I pulled the car smoothly up to the entrance of their luxury hotel. Sarah stepped out first. She reached into her designer bag, pulled out a few crumpled dollar bills and a handful of loose change, and tossed it casually through my open window, aiming right at my face. The paper bills hit my forehead and fluttered down. The coins slammed against the dashboard, bouncing loudly. One quarter rolled and wedged itself deep into the crevice of the passenger seat. “Take that and buy yourself a coffee. Maybe it’ll wake up those few brain cells you have left. Think about how pathetic you are.” She clapped her hands together, as if dusting off something filthy. “With your driving skills, you’re only fit to deliver DoorDash. Letting you drive actual people is an insult to the profession.” Liam slowly got out of the car. As he walked past my window, he stopped. He looked down and spat on me. The spit landed on the sleeve of my jacket, seeping into the fabric and leaving a dark, wet stain. Then, he linked his arm through Sarah’s. The two of them pushed through the heavy glass doors of the hotel and disappeared inside. I sat in the driver’s seat, completely motionless. I slowly bent down, picking up the crumpled bills from the floor mat, one by one. I dug my fingers into the seat crevice, prying out that single quarter, and clenched it tightly in my fist. I opened the dashcam app on my center console and replayed the interior footage from the very beginning. The video quality wasn’t cinematic, but it was more than enough. His face, her hands, that specific necklace catching the light—it was all crystal clear. I saved the video file directly to my phone. Then, I sent a text to my company’s legal department: [Run a full forensic audit on Sarah Jenkins’s accounts for the past two years. I want every single detail.] Three years. From the first time he told me my Uber job was a dead-end embarrassment, to tonight, calling me a “bottom-feeder” in my own rearview mirror. I had spent all this time waiting for him to say something different. To be someone different. I waited for nothing. The legal team replied the next day. Their tone was highly cautious. Sarah Jenkins had authorized a massive transfer of funds from the corporate petty cash and expense accounts. It was a substantial sum, signed off and wired directly into a private, external checking account. The name on the receiving account… I stared at the line of text three times to make sure I was reading it right. Liam Sterling. 2 I set my phone face-down on the counter and walked into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. The water was ice cold, but I didn’t feel it as it slid down my throat. I sat back down and pulled up my calendar. I cross-referenced every single “late-night team meeting,” every “staying at my buddy’s place,” and every “networking event” Liam had claimed to attend over the past three years. I opened Sarah’s corporate travel and expense logs and compared them line by line. Match. The second date, match. Third, fourth, fifth… almost every single date matched perfectly. The timestamps aligned within a fifteen-minute margin of error. It was choreographed. I pulled up the “selfies” he had sent me over the years. I had never bothered to scrutinize the backgrounds before. Zooming in on one photo taken in a hotel hallway, I saw a reflection in a decorative mirror behind him. A sliver of a silhouette, the collar of a blouse, the hem of a skirt. It was the exact outfit Sarah had posted on her Instagram that very same day. I saved every single screenshot and dumped them into a master folder on my desktop. My father had been calling me relentlessly for the past few days. Our luxury auto group was expanding into its third major metropolitan market. The West Coast division desperately needed an executive who could make the hard calls. He called me, skipping the pleasantries entirely: “How much longer are you going to play around driving Ubers?” “Do you have any idea how many critical decisions are bottlenecked right now waiting for you to come back?” I said, “Just give me a little more time.” He went silent for a moment. “Are you still hung up on that boy?” I didn’t answer. He sighed, his voice softening. “Your mother told you years ago that boy was shallow and short-sighted. We tried to stop you, but you insisted on slamming your head against a brick wall. Are you finally done?” I said, “Dad, as soon as I finish cleaning up the mess here, I’ll head back and take over the West Coast division. Send Chloe over to me first.” He was quiet for a while before finally saying, “Alright. I’ll have Chloe fly out to you tomorrow.” After hanging up, I got a text from Liam. He said he had to stay late at the office to finish a pitch deck. He asked if I had eaten, told me not to wait up, and said he’d be home very late. He ended the text with “Be a good girl and wait for me at home,” followed by a kissing emoji. I replied with a simple “Okay.” Then I grabbed my coat, walked out the door, and called an Uber. I gave the driver the address of Liam’s “office.” When I arrived, the corporate building was completely dark. The entire floor was deserted. I walked across the street, found a concrete planter to sit on, and waited. Ten minutes later. Sarah’s sleek Audi turned the corner and pulled to a stop on the side of the road. Liam approached from the opposite direction, walking quickly. He opened the passenger door and slid in. The windows rolled up. The car stayed parked. It didn’t drive away. I pulled out my phone, switched to video mode, and pointed the camera directly at the Audi. Ten minutes. Thirty minutes. A full hour. The car just sat there under the amber glow of the streetlight, the engine idling. The chassis was shaking. The movement wasn’t violent, but it was rhythmic and continuous. I saved the video, stood up, dusted off the back of my jeans, and called a ride home. He walked through the front door at 1:00 AM. As he entered, he sighed heavily and said, “Working late is brutal.” He tossed his briefcase onto the sofa, kicked off his shoes, and went straight to the shower. When he came out, his hair was still damp. He leaned against the headboard, scrolling through his phone, a look of profound, lazy satisfaction on his face. It wasn’t the exhaustion of a long workday. It was the heavy, satiated relaxation of someone who had just gotten exactly what they wanted. He looked up and noticed I was still awake. “Why are you still up? Don’t you have to drive tomorrow?” I said, “Couldn’t sleep.” He gave a noncommittal “Hmm” and didn’t ask anything else. He turned off his lamp and lay down. Three minutes later, his breathing was deep and even. Over the past three years, how many of those “late nights at the office” were actually spent sweating in the passenger seat of that Audi? I sent Chloe a text: [Fly in tomorrow. We need to talk.] Chloe arrived the next afternoon. She sat down across from me, her first words being: “Boss, have you finally snapped out of it?” I slid my phone across the table to her. The screenshots of the forensic accounting, the hour-long video of the shaking Audi, the dashcam footage from the Uber ride. I showed her every single file, one by one. She watched it all in silence. A long silence. Then, she slid the phone back to me. “How do you want to play this?” I said, “The annual corporate gala. We’ll end it there.” 3 A week before the gala, Liam suddenly became incredibly, suffocatingly attentive. Before I even woke up in the morning, a hot matcha latte and fresh pastries from my favorite bakery were waiting on the nightstand. When I got home from “driving,” the apartment was spotless. My clothes were neatly folded on the bed, and my house slippers were perfectly aligned, pointing toward the door. At night, he would actively pull me against his shoulder while we watched TV, his fingers lightly tracing circles on my waist. He would look down at me and smile randomly, looking exactly like the sweet, devoted guy I met three years ago. I knew exactly what he was doing. He needed to bring me to the corporate gala. He needed my cooperation. He needed me to look stable, compliant, and supportive, so I wouldn’t cause any drama. He needed me to continue playing the role of the oblivious, devoted girlfriend, just like I had for the past three years. I played along perfectly. I smiled as I took the water he offered, asking him, “Why are you being so sweet lately?” He wrapped his arms around my neck, pressed his cheek against mine, and whispered, “Because I love you, obviously.” The necklace hung from his neck, catching the light and sparkling brightly. Over the weekend, he dragged me to a high-end mall. In a designer boutique, he picked out a silk blouse for me. It cost over eight hundred dollars. While paying at the register, he casually mentioned to the sales associate: “She doesn’t really care about fashion. If I don’t force her, she’ll just wear the same old faded t-shirts everywhere.” The sales associate offered a polite, professional smile but didn’t respond. Her eyes flicked over my casual clothes for a split second. I understood that look. It was the look of someone wondering why a guy like him was wasting his money on someone like me. On the drive home, he kept his eyes on the road and delivered a steady stream of instructions: “At the gala, just keep a low profile. Don’t mention the Uber driving. If anyone asks, just say you’re ‘transitioning careers’.” “Don’t try to make conversation with anyone at Sarah’s table. They operate on a different level; you won’t be able to keep up.” “Don’t go around offering toasts, don’t wander off. Just sit quietly and look nice.” He delivered these instructions with a casual, natural authority. It wasn’t a discussion; it was a mandate. Like he was instructing a slightly slow-witted child on how to behave in public so they wouldn’t embarrass the family. Patient, but overwhelmingly condescending. I sat in the passenger seat and nodded. “Understood.” He patted my hand approvingly, a satisfied smile on his lips. Then, he looked down to reply to a text. He tilted the screen slightly away from me so I couldn’t see it. But in the reflection of the passenger window, I caught a glimpse of the contact name. Sarah, followed by a red heart emoji. The night before the gala, he told me he had to go to the venue early to coordinate logistics. I didn’t follow him this time. I had enough evidence; I didn’t need any more. I called Chloe and told her to double-check the master file we had prepared: The dashcam footage, the hour-long Audi video, the forensic accounting breakdowns, and the petty cash transfer agreement bearing Liam’s signature. I told her to compress it all into a single file and have the broadcasting equipment ready to go. Chloe asked, “Boss, are you absolutely sure you want to drop this at the gala?” I said, “I’m sure.” She was quiet for two seconds. “Alright. Consider it done.” Liam came home past midnight. As usual, he walked through the door complaining, “I’m exhausted.” He took a shower, slid into bed, and just before falling asleep, rolled over to look at me. His tone was purely instructional: “Make sure you wear that blazer I bought you tomorrow. No sneakers. Stay close to me.” “I’ve already given Sarah a heads-up about you. Just don’t say anything stupid.” I said, “Okay.” He turned off the lamp and lay back down. His breathing leveled out almost instantly. The morning of the gala, he woke up early, styled his hair meticulously with pomade, and put on a brand-new, tailored casual suit. He stood by the door, waiting for me. I walked over. He picked up a delicate brooch and pinned it carefully to the lapel of my blazer. His fingers adjusted it a few times, pressing it flat. He looked at it, then adjusted it again. “Perfect.” He patted my chest lightly, smiling. “Don’t embarrass me today, okay?” I looked down at him. I wanted to say, “I won’t.” But instead, I just nodded. Because today, I wasn’t going to be the one getting embarrassed. As we walked into the grand ballroom, Liam linked his arm through mine and walked quickly, almost as if he were afraid of being seen. A female coworker walked toward us. Her gaze swept over me from head to toe. She didn’t bother lowering her voice as she said to Liam: “Is this your girlfriend? The Uber driver?” She wrinkled her nose, not even trying to hide her disdain. “She reeks of cheap gas station coffee.” Before Liam could respond, a guy next to her laughed and chimed in: “Liam, seriously man, Sarah thinks so highly of you. Bringing an Uber driver to a corporate event? You’re dragging your own brand through the mud. And here I thought you were a smart guy.” A few people standing nearby snickered quietly. Liam kept pulling me forward. He didn’t defend me. He didn’t say a word. He just walked faster, his fingers digging painfully into my arm. He wasn’t holding me tight because he felt protective; he was holding me tight because he was terrified I was going to open my mouth and ruin his image. 4 After delivering her keynote speech, Sarah stepped off the stage and began mingling with the crowd. She spotted me instantly and stopped. Right in front of a circle of executives and colleagues, she spoke loudly and clearly: “Well, well. So this is Liam’s girlfriend? The Uber driver?” She looked me up and down slowly, shaking her head. Smiling, she turned to the VP of Sales standing next to her: “Look at this. I guess Liam really does have terrible taste, bringing an Uber driver to a black-tie event.” “He’s our top luxury auto salesman. Isn’t this just humiliating himself? And to think, I actually believed he had some ambition.” The VP offered a sycophantic, awkward laugh, nodding in agreement. Sarah turned back to me. She patted my shoulder. Her touch wasn’t friendly; it was heavy, condescending, pressing down on me. “Little girl, what kind of future do you think you have driving a cab?” “Life is short. Don’t drag Liam down with you. If he stays with you, he’s going to be eating dirt for the rest of his life.” I didn’t say a word. Liam kept his head down, staring at the floor. Not a single syllable escaped his lips. Liam’s younger sister, Emily, squeezed through the crowd holding a champagne flute. She yelled out loudly: “Sister-in-law! Oh, wait, I guess we don’t know if you’ll actually make it that far yet!” She looked around the room, making sure she had everyone’s attention, then raised her glass with a mocking smile. “Everyone, my brother is the top salesman in this entire company. Does anyone else think he’s absolutely blind for dating an Uber driver?” The crowd erupted in laughter. Someone murmured, “Yeah, he could definitely do better.” Others shook their heads or sipped their drinks, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. Emily turned to look at me. Her fake smile vanished, replaced by blunt, naked contempt. “Look, lady, I’ll just be honest. Are you worthy of him? In what universe do you deserve my brother?” “What do you actually have? Do you have money? Do you have connections? All you have is a driver’s license.” “Uber drivers are the absolute bottom-feeders of society. The kind of trash that will never, ever climb out of the gutter. Do you seriously lack that much self-awareness?” Another wave of laughter rolled through the crowd. This time, Liam finally spoke up. He muttered, “Emily, that’s enough.” But his tone was as flat and unemotional as if he were commenting on a mild breeze. Then, he raised his glass, turned his back to me, and went to clink glasses with a coworker. He didn’t look at me once. I sat in my chair, my hands resting quietly on my knees. I didn’t touch my drink. I thought about the past three years. Every single time he told me, “Can you please show a little ambition?” I thought about the smirk on his face when he sat in the backseat of my car and said, “Bottom-feeders belong at the bottom.” I thought about Sarah throwing crumpled dollar bills in my face. I thought about that Audi parked under the streetlight for an hour, the engine idling. I thought about the forensic accounting screenshot. Payee: Liam Sterling. His mother, Mrs. Sterling, suddenly stood up from a nearby table. Her voice was shrill and grating, loud enough for the entire section to hear: “What can a filthy Uber driver possibly offer my son?! Can she buy him a mansion?! Can she buy him a Porsche?!” “Her entire monthly salary is less than the commission my son makes selling one car!” Her finger was practically jabbing me in the eye. The people around us were laughing openly, pointing and sneering. Right at that exact moment, Chloe slipped into the ballroom through a side door. She didn’t look at anyone. She walked smoothly and silently to the AV booth in the corner. She bent down and plugged the HDMI cable directly into the main projector interface. The massive LED screen behind the stage flared to life. The first image: The official corporate business license for the National Luxury Auto Group. Under the “Legal Representative / CEO” section, it read clearly: Evelyn Vance. The second image: The corporate organizational chart. Sarah’s name was listed under the “Regional General Manager” bracket. My name was sitting directly at the very top. Above hers. The entire ballroom went dead silent. [The color drained from Sarah’s face in less than a second.]

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I found out Arthur Sterling was keeping another woman on the side. I was much calmer than I ever imagined I would be. After tracking down her address, I headed straight for her house, fully intending to lay all my cards on the table. But when I actually stood in her living room, I froze. “This condo cost $1.65 million. Arthur paid for it in full, in cash. The deed is in my name.” The woman’s expression was perfectly serene, as if she had been expecting me for a long time. She walked into her bedroom and brought out a marriage certificate, placing it right in front of me. “We got married last month.” “So,” the woman looked at me, her eyes brimming with sheer contempt, “legally speaking, you’re the dirty little mistress who can’t see the light of day.” The marriage certificate stung my eyes. It reminded me that Arthur and I had been together for fifteen years. Fifteen years. I never got a marriage certificate, but I did end up with a label: Mistress. Chapter 1 “Chloe Davis.” The woman tapped her manicured acrylic nail against the section of the certificate that bore Arthur’s name, her tone mocking. “You have no right to be here, and you certainly have no authority to strike a pose in front of me. Understood?” She held the marriage certificate like a hard-won trophy. She stood there, looking like a flawless, expensive porcelain doll. I recognized the diamond bracelet on her wrist. It was the exact one Arthur and I had won at a charity auction last month. Arthur had told me he was going to give it to me as our fifteen-year anniversary gift. But the day before our anniversary… Arthur had come to me in a panic, telling me the bracelet had been stolen. His eyes were full of guilt—so much guilt that they were red-rimmed and teary as he spoke. “Honey, I promise I’ll give you something even better.” He gently rubbed the calluses on my palms, his tears falling out of sheer heartbreak. “I’ve made you suffer so much over the years building this life with me. Once the company’s IPO goes through, let’s get married, okay?” “Chloe,” Arthur had hugged me tightly. “I want to marry you. I want us to have a real family.” And I had actually believed him. I thought Arthur and I were finally reaching the finish line. I thought that after all the years of grinding from absolutely nothing to immense wealth, I had handed in a satisfactory answer sheet for my life, and we would just live peacefully from then on. But now. I stared at the crushed diamonds on her bracelet. They sparkled brilliantly, like tiny, invisible needles piercing straight into my heart, hurting so much I could barely stand. Yet, I fought to maintain my dignity. “And so?” I snatched the marriage certificate from her hand. I looked at the bride’s name: Mia Harper. I met her perfectly made-up face and her visibly stunned expression, and I smiled. “Are you trying to tell me that after fifteen years with Arthur, it’s time for me to step down so you can enjoy the high life?” “Mia,” I rubbed my thumb over her photo on the document and smirked. “What makes you think I would just hand over the empire I bled to build?” I watched Mia panic. She lunged at me to snatch the certificate back, but I sidestepped her. Losing her balance, she crashed into a display cabinet and let out a sharp scream. “Chloe Davis!” “Are you insane?!” I watched Mia finally rip off her elegant mask and scream at me. “Are you trying to ruin my relationship with Arthur?! Are you going to be a shameless homewrecker?!” “Chloe!” “Have you no shame?!” Before Mia could lunge at me for a physical fight… I calmly pulled out my phone, snapped a crystal-clear photo of the marriage certificate, and immediately texted it to Arthur. “Arthur.” “I heard you got married.” “Why wasn’t I invited to the reception?” “Chloe!” “Honey!” The call connected instantly. Arthur’s frantic voice echoed through the living room. “I can explain!” “It’s all a massive misunderstanding!” “Chloe!” I heard a commotion on Arthur’s end, followed by the sound of a car door slamming. “I’m coming over right now.” “Don’t do anything rash.” “Just wait until I get there, we’ll talk!” While Arthur was still rambling… Mia, consumed by rage, screamed into the phone like a lunatic. “Arthur Sterling! Whose husband are you?! Who the hell are you protecting?!” Mia’s hysterical screams bounced off the walls. I took another look around the condo. The decor was warm and luxurious—blush pink silk drapes, a cream-colored cloud sofa, an entire wall dedicated to designer blind-box figurines. There were even cute couple’s magnets on the smart fridge. The plush blue cartoon slippers by the shoe rack perfectly matched the pink ones on Mia’s feet. Even the pristine white walls were covered in framed photos of Mia, mixed with several shots of Arthur’s back. It was obvious. Whoever decorated this place poured their entire heart into it. A $1.65 million condo. Paid in cash. In Mia’s name. A $3 million diamond bracelet. That was supposed to be my anniversary gift. Plus the authentic silk robe she was wearing, the expensive custom manicure on her fingers, the artisanal tea set resting on the coffee table, the premium tea leaves… not a single thing in this room was cheap. Every single item reeked of elite wealth. Every single item. I looked down at my own bare nails, devoid of any polish or decoration. I looked at my palms, rough with calluses from years of hard labor. I looked at my outfit—my clothes and shoes combined cost less than a hundred dollars. Suddenly, I found it all incredibly hilarious. So hilarious that I actually laughed out loud. “Arthur.” I cut him off mid-sentence. “Since you’re already married,” I took one last glance at the certificate clutched in Mia’s hands, “then we have absolutely nothing left to talk about.” I didn’t wait for Arthur. I didn’t need to hear his explanations. All I knew was that the fifteen years of blood, sweat, and tears I had given him were reduced to a monumental joke. And Arthur was the one who made me the biggest clown in it. Sitting in my best friend’s law firm, I dropped the photo of the marriage certificate on her desk and relayed everything I had just witnessed. Then, I asked her one question. “In a situation like this.” “What are my odds?” My voice was terrifyingly calm, as if discussing the weather. “Arthur and I built the company from scratch. Our equity is split down the middle. All our assets are shared and transparent. But Mia is the wildcard.” I tapped my knuckles against the mahogany desk, thinking of the $3 million bracelet and the $1.65 million condo. “I refuse to let anyone off easy.” “Stepping on my flesh and blood to sit back and enjoy the spoils? There is no such thing as a free lunch in this world, and I refuse to accept that logic!” I looked my best friend, Riley, dead in the eye. “I want them to pay.” “But,” Riley sighed, fighting her own anger to maintain her professional stance, “your company is at a critical stage for the IPO. If a massive scandal breaks now—” “I don’t care.” “Then that’s all I need to hear!” Riley patted her chest confidently. “I will fight this for you until the bitter end.” Walking out of the bank, I sat in my car, staring at dozens of pages of bank statements. The amounts Arthur had transferred to Mia ranged from tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands of dollars. And next to every single transaction was a memo: [Voluntary Gift]. It felt like my chest was caving in. A suffocating grip seized my throat, and my eyes burned with hot tears. I remembered a time when I had envied other women for having beautiful manicures and dressing up. Wanting to feel like a normal girl, I had booked a salon appointment, gotten my nails done, and gone home, purposely flashing my pretty hands in front of Arthur, waiting for a compliment. Instead… Arthur had met my hopeful gaze with a chilling coldness. “Chloe.” “I know our lives are getting a little better now.” Arthur grabbed my hands, looking at my nails and shaking his head in disapproval. “But the scariest thing a person can do is forget their roots.” “We can’t just start throwing money away just because we have a little extra, right?” “What if times get tough again? How will you cope?” “Honey,” Arthur had pulled me into his arms. “I prefer you when you’re simple and unadorned.” My heart full of hope shattered into bubbles. Arthur’s words were like a bucket of ice water over my head. I froze, forgetting to even react, as I watched him ruthlessly pick off the rhinestones from my freshly done nails. “Flashy, useless things. What’s the point?” Yeah. Flashy, useless things. What’s the point? Yet, Mia was draped in those flashy, useless things, dressed up like a perfect porcelain doll from an entirely different universe. The cruelest irony was that every single cent used to dress Mia up was paid for by the blood and sweat I had shed over the years. Why should she get it? The tears fell despite my best efforts. I wiped them away aggressively, staring at Arthur’s relentless incoming calls, and finally swiped to answer. “Chloe?!” “You finally picked up!” “Thank God!” Arthur’s frantic voice blasted through the speaker. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Where are you? Whatever it is, let’s talk face-to-face, okay?!” “Chloe, we’ve been together for fifteen years! Not fifteen days! You can’t just hide from me—” “Arthur.” I forced down the lump of acid in my throat, keeping my voice level. “Let’s meet.” I gave him the location. “At the old Northside apartment. We’ll meet there.” There was a clear pause on his end. Silence for a few seconds. “Okay.” “Honey, I’m heading there right now.” Arthur sounded relieved, almost thrilled. “I’ll stop by and grab those soup dumplings you love so much and bring them over!” Before I could decline, Arthur hung up. I turned to meet Riley’s worried gaze. “I’m fine.” I forced a smile. “Don’t worry about me.” It had been almost five years since Arthur and I moved out of that old Northside apartment. Staring at the chipped, peeling paint on the front door, I remembered how we had poured our hearts into decorating this place after finally upgrading from a windowless basement. Arthur had said back then, “Honey, this is our very first real apartment. It means everything!” “When we get old, if you want, we can retire here!” “Let’s come back and stay here for a few days every year, okay?” Back then, my heart was so full of joy. I thought my life was perfectly complete. Now, only a few years later. Everything had turned to ash. I pushed the door open. Arthur jumped up from the sofa. “Honey!” Looking like a child seeking praise, he held up the bag of hot soup dumplings and offered them to me. “They’re still warm.” In the past, I used to say how much I loved these dumplings, and how I loved that Arthur would wake up before dawn to wait in line for them. Later on, whenever I mentioned the dumplings… Arthur only had dismissive excuses. “Chloe, time is money. Do you really think I have the luxury of standing in an hour-long line just to buy you breakfast?” Now, the dumplings were right in front of me again, but somehow, they completely lost their appeal. “Arthur.” I ignored his desperate fawning, walked past him, and sat on the old couch. The worn-out springs groaned under my weight—nothing compared to Mia’s cloud sofa. “Do you remember this couch?” I looked up at him. “You and I went to the flea market and hunted for two days to find it.” “Because we were too cheap to pay for delivery,” I recounted the memory like it was just a mundane Tuesday, “you borrowed a flatbed cart, and I held the armrest to keep it steady. In the middle of summer, in hundred-degree heat, we walked for two and a half hours to drag it home.” “Back then, you said even if we became billionaires, we would never replace this couch.” “Because it was the ultimate proof of our love.” Arthur’s eyes darted around, unable to meet my gaze. I casually picked up the TV remote from the coffee table. It was wrapped in a layer of duct tape. Arthur had drunkenly dropped it once and shattered the back; I couldn’t bear to spend money on a new one, so I taped it together. I rubbed my thumb over the duct tape. “But the truth is, people change, and everything fades, doesn’t it?” “No!” Arthur rushed forward, dropping to his knees. “That’s not how it is!” His eyes turned red. Just like always, whenever he was desperate, he would cry. “Mia was just an accident! I don’t love her! I swear to God!” Arthur knelt before me, reaching out to grab my hands, but I shifted sideways to dodge him. I watched the flash of hurt in his eyes as he continued. “There was a business dinner, I drank too much, and I have no idea how Mia ended up in my hotel room! When I woke up, I was terrified! I’m not lying to you!” His tears spilled over. “I was so scared you’d find out, that you’d break up with me, that you’d hate me! I didn’t know how to face you! So I—” “How long?” “What?” “How long,” my voice remained chillingly flat, “have you been with Mia?” Arthur suddenly fell dead silent. He stared into my eyes for a long time before choking out the words. “Three and a half years.” I remembered Arthur promising we would come back and stay here for a few days every year. But as time went on, Arthur was always “too busy.” Turns out, he wasn’t too busy. He was just spending all his free time on someone else. A sharp, stabbing pain twisted in my chest. Then, Arthur offered his ultimate defense. “I wanted to break up with her! But she clung to me, crying about how poor her family was, how her parents favored her brothers and abused her… I just felt sorry for her…” Arthur’s voice trailed off. He lacked the courage to say the final sentence out loud. “Mia… got pregnant.” It felt like a bomb detonated right next to my ear. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. Even though I had already deduced the truth before I got here, hearing it from his mouth still sent ice-cold chills down my spine. While I was eagerly waiting for our wedding… Arthur had already given someone else his name, turning me into the outsider. And now, I had to listen to Arthur say: “I thought… since you’re getting older, having a baby would take a toll on your body…” Getting older. Take a toll on my body. What an absolute joke. “So,” Arthur looked up at me, “I figured letting her have the baby was actually for your own good.” For my own good. My nails pierced my skin, but I couldn’t feel the pain. “As long as you forgive me! I’ll agree to anything you want!” “Really?” I forced down the volcanic rage boiling in my chest and locked eyes with him. “Really!” I suddenly smiled. I stood up from the creaky couch, walked over to the front door, and pulled it wide open. I stared at the person standing outside, my smile growing even wider. “So, did you catch all that?” “Who’s the mistress now?” I looked at Mia’s horrified face, then pulled out my phone, which was on an active video call with Riley. “Don’t bother editing this video. Send it directly to the media, word for word!” “I don’t care how much money you have to burn, I want this to be the biggest scandal of the year!” Before I could finish. Someone grabbed my wrist and yanked me backward. I met Arthur’s furious, panic-stricken eyes and laughed. “Arthur.” “You made your bed.” “Did you really think you could walk away clean?” “How do you like these consequences?”

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There was a whiteboard in our house. Written on it was my countdown. “Days until Lily’s estimated heart failure: 47.” Every morning, my mother would carefully erase yesterday’s number and write a new one. Like a grocery store counting down to a clearance sale. Precise, cold, and full of anticipation. My name is Lily Brooks. I am twelve years old. I have congenital heart disease. The doctors said without surgery, I wouldn’t live past six months. The surgery costs three million dollars. My father, Edward Brooks, is a real estate tycoon worth two billion dollars. But he said, “Three million. It’s not worth it.” Because there was another, perfectly healthy child in the house. My little brother, Noah. Eight years old, smart, beautiful, plays the piano, and knows exactly how to charm adults. He was the only one in this family considered “worth it.” … The first time I heard them discussing my death was on a Wednesday night. The study door wasn’t closed all the way. I was walking by, clutching my pill bottle, when I heard the conversation inside. My mother Victoria’s voice was calm, like she was discussing a stock investment. “The insurance company confirmed it. Lily’s policy is worth five million. In the event of her death, we are the sole beneficiaries.” Edward flipped through some documents. “Five million? The premium we paid back then was only eighty thousand. That’s a solid return on investment.” Victoria nodded. “And since it would be death by natural illness, there’s no waiting period for the investigation. They pay out directly. I’ve already had the lawyers confirm it.” “Then skip the surgery.” Edward put his pen down. “Three million for a surgery with only a sixty percent success rate. We might as well save the cash, wait for the insurance payout, and net five million.” “That five million will perfectly cover Noah’s European summer camp and that new penthouse in Manhattan.” Victoria hesitated for a moment. “But people will gossip.” “Saying what?” Edward sneered. “She has a congenital heart defect. The doctors already said it’s a difficult case. We are simply respecting medical reality.” “When the time comes, we tell the public we tried everything, but it was God’s will.” “We’ll throw a beautiful, high-profile funeral, invite the press. It’ll be great PR for the company.” The pill bottle slipped from my hand. It hit the floor with a loud clatter. The study instantly fell dead silent. I picked up the bottle and turned to walk away. Victoria’s voice called out from behind me: “Lily? Why are you out in the hall?” I didn’t turn around. “I was just getting my medication.” “Take your pills and go to bed early. We have your hospital checkup tomorrow.” “Okay.” I went back to my room and closed the door. I looked at the whiteboard on my nightstand. 47 days. It turned out this wasn’t my countdown. It was their “payout date.” That night, I made a decision. Since they were waiting for me to die. I would give them the show of a lifetime. But not the kind of death they were hoping for. Chapter 2 The next day, I didn’t go to the hospital for my checkup. I went to the insurance company. The receptionist was taken aback when she saw a twelve-year-old girl walk in alone. “Sweetie, who are you looking for?” “Miss, I want to check on my insurance policy. My name is Lily Brooks. The policyholder is Victoria Brooks.” The receptionist hesitated but looked it up for me anyway. “Your policy… the death benefit is five million dollars. The beneficiaries are your parents, Edward and Victoria Brooks.” “Miss, can the beneficiaries be changed?” “Yes, but it requires the policyholder’s consent. That would be your mother.” I nodded. “And if the policyholder doesn’t agree?” “Then it can’t be changed.” I thought for a moment. “What if I buy my own insurance policy? Can I name someone else as the beneficiary?” The receptionist looked stunned. “Sweetie… you’re only twelve. You can’t buy life insurance yourself. And… why are you asking these things?” I offered a small smile. “Nothing. I just wanted to know if, when I die, the money could go to someone other than my parents.” The receptionist’s face fell. She knelt down, looking me in the eye. “Sweetie, is something going on at home?” “No. Thank you, miss.” I turned and walked out of the insurance company. Standing on the street, the sun felt wonderful. But I knew I probably wouldn’t see many more sunny days like this. Not because of my heart. But because I had decided that before they could touch that five million, I was going to make sure they got nothing. I would make sure they didn’t see a single dime. When I got home, my brother Noah was in the living room practicing the piano. Seeing me walk in, he didn’t even look up. “Lily, Mom said you skipped your checkup. She’s really mad.” “Oh.” “She said if you don’t behave, she’s going to cut your medication.” I stopped in my tracks. “What does that mean?” Noah played a chord, speaking casually: “Exactly what it sounds like. Your pills are really expensive, right? Like twenty thousand a month. Mom said if you don’t cooperate, she’ll just stop buying them. Anyway—” He paused, seemingly realizing his next words were a bit harsh. “Anyway what?” I asked. “Anyway, you can’t be cured.” When my eight-year-old brother said those words, his tone was exactly like our father’s. Light, dismissive, treating it as a matter of fact. I looked at him. This boy who had been pampered since the day he was born. He wasn’t inherently evil. He just genuinely believed my life had no value. Because from the moment he entered this world, everyone in this house had taught him one thing: His sister was a burden, a financial drain, a defective product that could break down at any moment. “Noah.” “Yeah?” “You play beautifully.” Noah finally looked up, glancing at me in surprise. “…Thanks.” I went upstairs to my room. I opened the old iPad my dad had given me—the only electronic device in the house that belonged to me, and only because it was an outdated model Noah didn’t want anymore. Chapter 3 I started searching: “Can a minor write a will?” “How to stop parents from collecting a life insurance payout?” “Slayer rule in life insurance.” The search results gave me one crucial piece of information: If a beneficiary intentionally causes the death of the insured, the insurance company will deny the claim. I stared at that sentence for a long time. Then, I started keeping a diary. But not an ordinary diary. It was an evidence log. Using that old iPad, I began recording audio and video. Every time they discussed my insurance. Every time they reduced my medication. Every time they updated the countdown on the whiteboard. I recorded it all. Three days later. The number on the whiteboard changed to 44. And just as promised, Victoria cut my medication. I used to take three pills a day. Now, she only gave me two. “Mom, I’m missing a pill.” Victoria was peeling an apple for Noah, not bothering to look up. “The doctor said you can reduce your dosage at this stage.” “The doctor never said that.” Victoria’s knife paused. “I am your mother. If I say we reduce it, we reduce it.” I didn’t say anything else. I went back to my room and turned on my voice recorder. I saved the conversation I had just captured. File name: “Evidence_004_Med_Reduction”. That evening, Edward came home. He brought a stranger with him. A man in a sharp suit, carrying a briefcase, wearing a professional smile. “Lily, this is Mr. Sterling. He’s a claims advisor for the insurance company.” Edward’s tone was exceptionally gentle. Whenever he was gentle with me, it meant he needed my cooperation. “Mr. Sterling needs to do a quick health assessment for you. Be a good girl and cooperate, okay?” Mr. Sterling knelt down and smiled. “Hey there. I’m just going to ask you a few quick questions, alright?” “How are you feeling these days? Any discomfort?” I glanced at Edward. His eyes carried a distinct warning. I smiled back at the advisor. “I feel pretty good. Just a little chest tightness sometimes.” “Are you taking your medication? Right on schedule?” “Yes, on schedule. Three pills every day. I haven’t missed a single one.” The corners of Edward’s mouth twitched upward. Victoria visibly exhaled a sigh of relief. Mr. Sterling finished his notes and shook Edward’s hand. “Don’t worry, Mr. Brooks. I’ll have the paperwork sorted immediately. If… God forbid… something unfortunate were to happen, I’ll make sure the payout is expedited.” “Thank you, Mr. Sterling.” After seeing the advisor out, Edward patted me on the head. “You did great today. As a reward, you can watch an extra thirty minutes of TV tonight.” Thirty extra minutes of TV. That was my compensation for cooperating in the “rehearsal of my death.” Chapter 4 I went back to my room and exported the files from my recorder. File name: “Evidence_007_Insurance_Pre_Claim”. I backed up all the files in three places. One copy on the iPad. One copy on a USB flash drive hidden under my mattress. The third copy… I needed to give to someone I could trust. But I didn’t have anyone I could trust. Classmates? They only knew me as the rich, sick girl. None of them were close friends. Teachers? Once, a teacher asked about a bruise on my arm. Victoria made one phone call, and the teacher never brought it up again. Relatives? They all worked for Edward’s company. No one dared to cross him. I thought about it all night. The next morning, I saw a man by the gates of our gated community. A homeless man. He sat on the bench across the street every day, holding a dirty, scruffy cat. Security chased him away constantly, but he always came back. I walked over to him. “Sir, what’s your name?” He looked up, his cloudy eyes focusing on me. “…Henry.” “Henry, do you have a phone?” “No.” “Do you know how to read?” “…I used to be a teacher.” I was stunned. A homeless man who used to be a teacher? “Henry, can I come talk to you every day?” He didn’t speak, just gave a slow, gentle nod. From that day on, I visited Henry after school every day. I brought him a bottle of water and a sandwich. Food I had secretly saved from my own meals. Henry used to be a high school English teacher. After his wife died of cancer, medical debt bankrupted him, and he ended up on the streets. We gradually became friends. One day, I pulled the USB drive from my backpack. “Henry, if I die one day, can you take this to the police for me?” Henry’s hands began to shake. “What… what are you talking about?” “My parents bought a five-million-dollar life insurance policy on me. If I die, they get the money. So they aren’t treating my illness, and they are lowering my medication.” “This flash drive has all the evidence. As long as the police prove they intentionally denied me care, the insurance company won’t pay out.” “They’re waiting for me to die. But instead of five million dollars, they’re going to get a prison cell.” Tears streamed down Henry’s dirty, weathered face. “I can’t let you die. You’re only twelve years old!” I crouched beside him, gently patting his back. I was the one who was dying. Yet here I was, comforting a stranger who was crying for me. Chapter 5 The number on the whiteboard changed to 31. My body was failing faster now. Before, it was just occasional chest tightness. Now, I was gasping for air after walking just a few steps. Victoria looked at my pale face, but there was no heartbreak in her eyes. Only calculation. “One month left,” she whispered to Edward in the kitchen. “The insurance company is prepped. When the time comes, we just say her condition rapidly deteriorated and she passed naturally.” “What about the pills?” Edward asked. “I’ve cut it down to one a day. In a few days, I’ll stop them completely.” “Good. Make sure nobody outside the house notices.” I stood outside the kitchen door, the voice recorder silently spinning in my pocket. File name: “Evidence_015_Stopping_Meds”. That afternoon, I collapsed at school. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. My attending physician was Dr. Emily Carter, a woman in her forties. She looked at my chart, her face grim. “Your medication levels are entirely wrong. Based on your condition, you should be taking Amiodarone three times a day. Why are you only taking one?” I didn’t say anything. Dr. Carter stayed silent for a moment, then sat on the edge of my bed. “Lily, tell me the truth. Is something going on at home?” I looked at her. Her gaze was earnest, not just going through the motions. “Dr. Carter, if I tell you something, can you keep it a secret?” “What is it?” “My parents want me to die.” Dr. Carter’s pupils dilated in shock. “They bought a five-million-dollar life insurance policy on me. They are the beneficiaries. They’re cutting my meds, waiting for my heart to fail so I die naturally, and then they’ll collect the money.” “I have proof. Audio recordings, videos, diaries. I have everything.” Dr. Carter’s hands began to tremble. She had practiced medicine for twenty years. She had seen countless life and death scenarios. But she had never seen a twelve-year-old child describe her own parents plotting her murder with such chilling calmness. “Why… why haven’t you called the police?” “My dad is Edward Brooks.” Dr. Carter froze. Edward Brooks. The biggest real estate developer in the city. The brand-new inpatient tower we were currently in was funded by his donations. His name was literally on the building—The Brooks Pavilion. “Lily, I’m going to keep you admitted for a few days. I’ll use observation as the medical justification.” “In these few days, I’m going to contact someone for you.” “Who?” I asked. “A friend from college. He’s a District Attorney at the state level. Your father’s hands are long, but they can’t reach the state.” Chapter 6 I looked at Dr. Carter. This was the second person willing to help me. The first was Henry, the homeless man. The second was this doctor. Both were complete strangers with no blood relation to me. “Dr. Carter.” “Yes?” “Thank you. But… if my dad finds out, will he do something to you?” Dr. Carter offered a small, fierce smile. “On my first day as a doctor, I took an oath to save lives and do no harm.” “Your father donated a building. That’s very impressive. But a building can’t buy my conscience.” Victoria came to the hospital to pick me up. She wore her picture-perfect “doting mother” expression. “Lily, Mommy’s here to take you home.” Dr. Carter blocked her path. “Mrs. Brooks, the child’s condition is highly unstable. I strongly recommend keeping her for further observation.” Victoria’s smile stiffened for a fraction of a second. “Dr. Carter, we can take perfectly good care of her at home.” “Then why are the child’s medication levels incorrect?” Dr. Carter stared directly into her eyes. “Given her condition, she should be taking three doses a day. But the drug concentration in her blood is only one-third of the normal level. Unless, of course, someone deliberately reduced her medication.” Victoria’s face drained of color. “What… what are you implying?” “I’m not implying anything. I am stating medical facts.” Dr. Carter closed the chart. “The child cannot be discharged right now. If you insist on taking her, you must sign an ‘Against Medical Advice Discharge Declaration.’ This document will be kept on record. If anything happens to this child, the hospital will submit it directly to the authorities.” Victoria stood there, her lips trembling. She knew that signing that declaration would leave a massive paper trail. “…Then she can stay for now.” She turned to leave. As she passed my bed, she leaned in and whispered: “Lily, don’t think for a second you can pull a fast one on us.” I didn’t look up. But beneath the blankets, I pressed the save button on my voice recorder. File name: “Evidence_019_Hospital_Confrontation”. It was enough. Without any hesitation, I zipped all the evidence files and hit send. I watched the progress bar complete. Mom, Dad, this is my final gift to you. I hope you’re ready to catch it.

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I touched my empty stomach, trembling uncontrollably, surrounded by the mocking laughter of his friends. “Commander Harrison Brooks, just because Audrey Sinclair said one word, you really aborted the child you had with Evelyn?!” “Haha, look at the princess, all the color drained from her face! What, are you gonna hit someone?!” Harrison merely pulled Audrey into his arms, his tone impossibly gentle. “I told you I would never have a child with her. Do you believe me now?” The ice on Audrey’s face finally melted into a sweet smile. I tried to step forward to demand an answer, but I was violently held back by my three older brothers. My eldest brother, State Senator Bennett Vance, frowned in disgust. “Audrey finally smiled. Stop acting like the grim reaper and ruining the mood.” My second brother, Oliver, Director of the National Research Institute, spat at my feet. “She suffered so much in the brutal foster system before we found her. Just give Harrison up to her! I’ll find you another guy!” My third brother, Miles, Director of the National Arts Company, practically poked his finger into my eye. “They are the ones truly in love! Were you really going to bring a child into a loveless household?! Stop committing a sin!” They dragged me back to the family estate and locked me inside, forbidding me from ruining the happiness of their precious golden girl. It was then that the System, which had been silent for years, finally spoke. “Host, detecting that the strategy mission has been completed! Would you like to return to your original world immediately?” I hung a rope over the exposed ceiling beam. My eyes were completely out of focus, but my heart was screaming with wild ecstasy. I finally didn’t have to act anymore! …… Before I was fully dead, the bedroom door was kicked open. Oliver rushed in, and his security details frantically cut me down. Oliver was absolutely furious. “When did you learn to throw these pathetic tantrums?! Crying, screaming, hanging yourself?! Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re causing this family?!” But all my attention was focused on the System’s voice in my head. “Detecting that the Vance brothers and the male lead’s affection levels reached 90%. The mission to conceive a child with the male lead, Harrison Brooks, is complete!” “Once the host’s physical body dies, you may return to your original world, receive your cash reward, and cure your cancer!” I suppressed the overwhelming joy bubbling in my chest. I could finally go home! I looked up and met Oliver’s eyes. A guard leaned in and whispered something into his ear. The fiery rage in Oliver’s eyes instantly vanished, replaced by a soft, gentle warmth like a spring breeze. Unsurprisingly. He only ever looked like that when it came to Audrey. Catching my gaze, he immediately stiffened and cleared his throat. “What? Did you think you could use death to scare Harrison?! How could you be so malicious?!” “Do you have any idea how much Audrey suffered bouncing around the foster system?! She finally found us. What’s so wrong with letting her be a little happy?!” I clenched my fists tightly, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. If “suffering” meant having three powerful men orbiting you, ready to pluck the stars from the sky if you asked for them… Then I would gladly suffer too. Perhaps seeing how ghastly pale I looked, Oliver softened his tone slightly. “Just go apologize to Harrison. Stop being so stubborn.” He reached out to pull me up, but I lightly dodged his hand. I sneered. “Why should I apologize? What exactly did I do wrong?” Oliver froze. Then, his brows knitted together in renewed anger. “Evelyn Vance! Are you really trying to push your luck?! Do you want to be sent away to a disciplinary facility?!” I closed my eyes. Even if I only did this for a mission, after so many years, I had developed real feelings for them. I had genuinely cried over their coldness before. But now, it was all over. “Once Audrey finishes her performance for the President and gets promoted to Principal Dancer, you will go and apologize to her.” I no longer held a single shred of hope for him. I simply communicated with the System in my mind. “As long as this body dies, I can go back, right?” “Yes.” I let out a slow sigh of relief. I scanned the room, looking for the fastest way to kill myself. Oliver immediately realized what I was doing and roared. “Evelyn, what twisted scheme are you plotting now?! Can’t you understand a word I say?!” I ignored him. Locking my eyes on the heavy mahogany dresser, I steeled my heart, closed my eyes, and sprinted headfirst toward the sharp corner. The wind rushed past my ears. I felt a fleeting sense of lightness. But the next second, a strong arm clamped around my waist. I was hoisted into the air by a pair of large hands. I let out a yelp before I was violently slammed onto the hardwood floor. The security guards immediately surrounded me. Furious, Oliver pushed through them and delivered a vicious kick to my side. “You’re crazy! You’re completely insane! I say one sentence to you, and you try to kill yourself?! We spoiled you too much!” I let out a muffled groan, feeling nothing but annoyance that I hadn’t died. I ignored him completely. Seeing my apathy, Oliver grew even more enraged. “Doing this just to get our attention again, right?! Put away your pathetic little tricks!” Turning a deaf ear to his screaming, I staggered to my feet and dusted off my clothes. The guards boxed me in tightly, terrified I would cause more trouble. A heavy, bizarre silence filled the room. I don’t know how long passed. But the moment I caught them looking away, I seized the opening and threw myself out the second-story window. “I jumped on my own! Don’t take your anger out on anyone else!” I shouted the words as I plummeted. “Evelyn!” Oliver screamed in absolute despair. He and the guards were a second too late. I was filled with hope, welcoming death with open arms. Even though returning to my world meant facing the agony of cancer again, I didn’t want to spend another second in this hell. But unexpectedly, I was met with a violent, piercing pain. I thought I was dead, but the agony radiating through my torso told me otherwise. I opened my eyes. I was impaled and caught in the thick branches of an oak tree just outside the window. The commotion drew the attention of all our wealthy neighbors in the gated community. They quickly gathered around. “Isn’t that the Vance family’s daughter? Why is a girl that young trying to end her life?” “Oh, please. Everyone knows how horribly the Vance family treats her in her own home… Sigh, it’s a sin!” I was stuck in the branches, unable to move. I dropped my head in defeat. “You’re insane! Evelyn, have you completely lost your mind?!” Oliver’s eyes were bloodshot. He shoved through the crowd, stumbling and falling to his knees beneath the tree. Soon, the estate’s security brought a cherry picker and carefully brought me down. Oliver immediately started checking my body. “Does it hurt anywhere?! Talk to me!” My gaze inadvertently fell on Oliver. A man who was usually obsessed with his immaculate appearance was missing a shoe, limping heavily. His right ankle was swollen to the size of a baseball. He must have twisted it rushing out of the house in a panic. If this were the past, my heart would have ached terribly. I would have demanded he go to the hospital immediately. But now, I just apathetically looked away. “What? Do I need your official permission to die, too?” Oliver froze, his face stricken with disbelief. I scoffed, walked around him, and politely thanked the security guards. “I’m sorry for causing you all so much trouble.” I also bowed to the gossiping neighbors. “Please don’t tell anyone about this. If word gets out, my eldest brother will curse me out again.” Oliver dug his fingernails into his palms. The corners of his eyes turned bright red. I frowned slightly, confused by his reaction. “Don’t worry,” I assured the neighbors. “Everyone in the compound knows each other. You won’t spread it. If you need me to, I’ll apologize door-to-door so you don’t have to bother Bennett or Oliver…” “Evelyn!” He cut me off, unable to bear it anymore. And then, to my utter shock, a flash of genuine grievance appeared on his face. “You are the only daughter of the Vance family! You’re the youngest! We three brothers want nothing more than to lift you up! Why are you speaking to us like we’re strangers?!” I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. “Do you even believe the words coming out of your own mouth?” He trembled, as if he had just been slapped awake. Because the one living with the Vance family, the one treated like their daughter now, was Audrey Sinclair! As for me? I had been banished to a dusty storage room at the Arts Company. I was originally supposed to live in the dorms, but because Audrey hated the sight of me, my third brother Miles expelled me from the company entirely. As an act of “charity,” he let me sleep in the storage closet. I looked at Oliver with completely dead eyes, but a deep sense of sorrow bled through. Outside of the arts company, I used to love studying biology in my spare time. Oliver was a leading expert in the field. Seeing my talent and passion, he used to love mentoring me. We would discuss scientific problems until the sun came up. But now? Now he only looked at me with cold disgust, ordering me to yield to Audrey in every single aspect of my life. Oliver lowered his head in resignation, his voice as quiet as a mosquito. “Once Audrey finishes her performance and gets promoted to Principal Dancer, you can move back home… Audrey turned your bedroom into a dance studio. This is a critical time for her career. You’ve always been so understanding. You get it, right?” “Everything that happened before… it was all just a misunderstanding…” I couldn’t be bothered to respond. I just sneered and walked away. Before I transmigrated, I was an orphan. I lived meal to meal, starving half the time. To make matters worse, after coughing up blood on the street, a kind stranger took me to the hospital, where I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I lay in that hospital bed, slipping into a coma from the agonizing pain. When I opened my eyes again, the System had brought me to this world, placing me in the body of a nine-year-old child. That was the first time I heard the System’s voice. “Reach an 80% affection level with the three Vance brothers and the male lead, Harrison Brooks, and conceive a child with Harrison. Once complete, you may return to your modern world and your cancer will be cured!” Then, it vanished. I thought the pain had given me hallucinations. But looking down, I was indeed in the unformed body of a nine-year-old. I adjusted quickly. I had no ties in my old world, and having a healthy body here was a blessing. Now, Oliver and I sat in the grand living room of the estate. To ease the tension, he started recounting funny stories from before Audrey came to our house. I hadn’t felt that kind of warmth in almost ten years. There was a time when Oliver’s smile almost made me want to abandon the mission and stay here forever. But after I brought Audrey—a fellow orphan from my school—home out of pity, she stole all of Oliver’s favoritism. I went from angry, to acting out, to absolutely hysterical. And all it earned me was his cold reprimand: “Stop throwing a tantrum. Look at how pathetic you’re acting.” Seeing that I wasn’t responding to his stories, Oliver’s voice took on a pitiful, pleading tone. “Evelyn, I hurt my foot trying to save you. Can you please get the first-aid kit and help me…” I cut him off, my face blank. “Your security detail is standing right there. If it’s serious, call a doctor. Why are you telling me?” Suddenly, heavy, powerful footsteps echoed from the porch. I knew immediately it was Harrison. And the steady, authoritative footsteps beside him belonged to my eldest brother, Bennett. Bennett’s voice was dark and threatening. “Audrey has been so worried about you she hasn’t eaten or slept. She’s lost weight! You better treat her with respect, or don’t blame me for what happens next!” Audrey quickly stepped between everyone, playing the perfect peacemaker. “Bennett, Harrison, I’m really fine! It was all a misunderstanding. As long as we talk it out, everything is okay.” I sat on the sofa, admiring their sickeningly sweet display of sibling devotion. I rubbed my face, only to realize my cheeks were wet and freezing. I hadn’t cried in a very long time. Oliver limped over to me. He was just about to speak when the front doors swung open. Seeing Oliver’s condition, Audrey immediately rushed over. “Oliver! How did you get hurt so badly? You…” She didn’t get to finish her sentence before my fist connected squarely with her jaw, knocking her to the floor. Audrey panicked, collapsing onto the rug, looking up at me in utter shock. Almost simultaneously, a massive, bruising force clamped down on my shoulders. The pain forced me to my knees. Bennett nodded approvingly at his guards. He shot up from his chair, pointing at me furiously. “Evelyn Vance! We have spoiled you beyond repair! Apologize to Audrey!” I kneeled pathetically on the floor, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “I apologize? What exactly did I do wrong? My husband cheated on me, and I’m not allowed to hit his mistress?!” Bennett grew even more enraged, his voice turning shrill. “What kind of delusional nonsense are you spouting?! Audrey and Harrison are a couple! Have you forgotten?! You and Harrison never signed the marriage papers! You aren’t husband and wife!” “How could I have such a shameless, classless sister?! You’ve humiliated the Vance family!” I looked at him like he had just told the funniest joke in the world. “Shameless? Have you forgotten that Harrison was the one who coaxed me, saying we would sign the papers after I got pregnant?! He treated my love like garbage, and I’m the shameless one?!” Harrison stared at me with eyes like ice. “Thank God I didn’t marry you. Thank God I had the foresight. The Brooks family would never accept a wife like you!” Miles, who had just walked in, stormed over and slapped me hard across the face. “Evelyn! Apologize!” I didn’t speak. I just slowly, coldly swept my gaze over all of them. Bennett’s eyes were indifferent. Miles’s face was full of disgust. Harrison looked like he wanted me dead. Oliver frowned, his lips moving slightly, but in the end, he didn’t say a single word. Just like three years ago. Audrey had snuck into Oliver’s lab and destroyed years of his life’s work by messing with the equipment. The government demanded Oliver give them an explanation. Oliver begged me to take the fall, and pleaded with Bennett to cover it up. But Audrey intentionally leaked the scandal to the public. I was publicly disgraced and could no longer stay at the Arts Company. So Miles fired me. And my bedroom was converted into a dance studio, simply because Audrey wanted to “soak up the aura” of the former Principal Dancer. “You have security guards following you everywhere! Audrey is all alone! She lives in the house so she can communicate easily with Miles! Can’t you be a little more mature?!” I had screamed at them hysterically back then. And the way they looked at me then was exactly how they were looking at me now. Today, I couldn’t be bothered to defend myself. I grabbed the fruit knife resting on the coffee table. Oliver’s eyes widened in terror. He tried to lunge forward, but Audrey tightly locked her arms around his waist. “Evelyn, what are you doing?!” I looked at Audrey with a mocking smile. “Didn’t you want an apology?” I ignored the panic-stricken men around me. In one swift motion, I dragged the blade across my own throat. Screams erupted in the room. I was crying and laughing at the same time. “I’m paying her back with my life! Is that enough?! Are you happy now?!” Warm, thick blood violently sprayed from my neck. The dizzying wave of blood loss made my legs give out. Amidst the chaotic, indistinguishable roars, my vision went dark. The last thing I saw was the absolute, unadulterated horror on the men’s faces. Oliver broke free and caught me against his chest. “Call an ambulance!”

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