Category: English

1 The ultrasound jelly was still cold on my belly when I opened a local mom’s forum. A new post caught my eye. In the photo, a woman held a rosy-cheeked toddler, flashing a peace sign. But it was the man cooking in the background that froze my blood. Behind his ear was a familiar, faded tattoo—my initials. The sweater he wore was the same cable-knit pullover I spent weeks knitting for my husband, Dominic. At home, the mansion was silent. The butler brought soup, his expression polite. “Mr. Dominic is working late again. He said not to wait up, ma’am.” This was the seventh day he hadn’t come home. I slid off my wedding band, opened the safe, and pulled out the divorce papers. I signed my name. I was done waiting for a man who’d forgotten the way home. My fingers trembled. I stared at our wedding photo, trying to recall the last time Dominic spoke to me directly. He always claimed the company kept him busy. Lately, there were no texts, no photos—only messages through the butler. “The company is swamped today.” “Don’t wait up. Take care of yourself and the baby.” … Large tears spilled over my lashes, hot and heavy. I didn’t know how long I sat there in the dark, but the sky outside the window was beginning to turn a bruised purple when the bedroom door clicked open. Dominic walked in, his brow furrowing instantly. He crouched in front of me and took my hands in his. “Didn’t I tell you not to wait up?” “You never listen.” He sighed. Feeling how ice-cold my hands were, he scooped me up into his arms and tucked me firmly beneath the heavy duvet. My eyes burned terribly. I watched in silence as Dominic meticulously filled a hot water bottle for me and began massaging my swollen calves. I suddenly wanted to ask him. Dominic, have you fallen in love with someone else? Dominic, do you remember the vow you made, promising to hold my hand until our hair turned gray? But the words felt like crushed glass in my throat. I didn’t dare ask. I was terrified that if I did, I would unravel into a hysterical, screaming mess. Noticing my sinking mood, Dominic gently picked up my hand and pressed it against his chest, right over the sweater he was wearing. “See? I’m wearing the love you made for me.” “Don’t throw a tantrum now.” Last night, I had scrolled through every single post on that woman’s account. The Dominic she documented was endlessly patient and tender. Dominic was a notorious germaphobe, yet he willingly rolled around in the grassy park to fly kites with her and the boy. Dominic was strictly disciplined with his diet, yet he would drive thirty miles at midnight just because she craved spicy takeout. They had chased the Northern Lights in Norway and kissed beneath towering, snow-capped mountains. Meanwhile, I was left to guard a beautiful, empty house. Dominic’s phone suddenly buzzed. I took the opportunity to wipe my eyes, but my gaze inadvertently caught the screen. He was texting her. After ten years together, I was simply saved as ‘Hazel’ in his contacts. But that girl. He had her saved as ‘Baby’. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted copper. My voice came out hoarse. “How did you find the time to come back today?” Dominic didn’t even look up. He opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out a velvet box. “Just came back to grab something.” I had opened that box a few days ago. Inside was a diamond ring, featuring a stone the size of a quail egg. Before I could say another word, Dominic pressed a quick kiss to my forehead and hurried out the door. The tears finally broke free. When I first discovered that ring, I had been so thrilled I immediately called my best friend to share the news. She had laughed, saying she didn’t know Dominic had a romantic bone in his body. She said he must have remembered that he never gave me a proper ring back when we were broke, and was finally making up for it with a massive diamond. I had hoped so desperately that he would remember today was our tenth anniversary. I had waited for him to get down on one knee, slide that ring onto my finger, and heal the regrets of our past. I had longed for him to press his ear to my belly and whisper to our unborn child. 2 But he forgot. His heart only had room for the girl he kept hidden in the shadows. Half an hour later, my phone pinged. The girl had updated her social media. It was a video. On the screen, Dominic and a little boy were clapping and singing Happy Birthday. Then, Dominic got down on one knee. He pressed a reverent kiss to the girl’s ring finger before slipping the massive diamond onto it. The speaker picked up her delighted, high-pitched scream. With her big, doe-like eyes brimming with tears, she threw herself into Dominic’s arms. “You’re the absolute best, hubby.” But as she laughed, a fragile vulnerability entered her voice. “More than the diamond, I just want all of your love.” She stuck out her pinky finger like a child. “Promise me. Promise you’ll love me the most in this lifetime.” The little boy hugged Dominic’s leg, his voice sweet and milky. “Daddy, you have to love me and Mommy forever.” What a picture-perfect family of three. The tears flowed freely now. I suddenly thought of the Dominic from ten years ago. We had just graduated college. We poured every single cent we had into his startup. During the darkest days, we lived in a cramped, damp basement apartment. Dominic would hold me in the dark, crying out of pure guilt. “Hazel, I swear I’ll make it.” “I swear I’ll give you a beautiful life.” But the only thing I ever wanted was his unwavering love. When the freezing winter wind howled through the cracked window, I would curl up against his chest for warmth, listening to his strong, steady heartbeat. “I don’t need you to give me the world.” “Just give me all your love, Dominic. Promise you won’t ever make me cry.” When his company finally started turning a profit, a rival business hired local thugs to trash our office. I saw the glint of a knife swinging toward Dominic’s back, and I threw myself in front of him without a second thought. It hurt. God, it hurt so much. That was the day we lost our first baby. Dominic cried like a broken man, cursing me for being so stupid. But I was so terrified of seeing him consumed by guilt that I forced myself to smile. I swallowed my tears and told him I was fine. Look at him now. The rising star of the industry. We moved into the most exclusive neighborhood in the city. He hired top-tier specialists to nurse my battered body back to health. Diamonds, designer clothes, rare handbags. They flowed into my life like water. Everyone told me I had an incredible eye, that I had bet on the right horse. Yet I missed the old Dominic so fiercely it felt like an open wound. The boy who, no matter how exhausted or how late it was, would always rush home just to coax me to sleep. Tears? I didn’t even know how many I had shed over the years. In the final second of the video, fireworks exploded outside the window. The bright flashes illuminated a very familiar skyline in the distance. Moonridge. My heart was suddenly seized by an invisible hand, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. I knew that view. It was the view from the tiny, rundown house my late grandmother had left me. My only inheritance. Without a moment of hesitation, I dug through my vanity drawer, grabbed the rusted key, and drove straight to Moonridge. I kept one hand on the steering wheel and called Dominic. Call declined. I called again. After an agonizing amount of attempts, Dominic finally picked up, his voice laced with heavy irritation. “Make it quick. I’m in the middle of a crucial meeting.” It felt like someone was carving a chunk of flesh straight out of my chest. I swallowed the thick lump in my throat. “I miss my grandmother. I’m going to Moonridge to look around.” Dead silence on the other end. After a long pause, his tone softened into something resembling coaxing. “The place is still under heavy renovation. You’re pregnant, you shouldn’t be running around.” “Once the construction is completely done, I’ll take you there myself.” A faint female voice drifted through the receiver, urging him to come cut the cake. My nails dug so deep into my palms they nearly drew blood. I let out a long, shaky breath and spoke with absolute finality. “I just miss her too much.” “I’m going to take a look tonight, even if it’s just from the outside.” 3 I hung up before he could say another word. The moment my car rolled to a stop outside the property, the lights inside the house abruptly flicked off. I marched up the front steps, only to collide right into Dominic. A fine layer of sweat coated his forehead. He grabbed my hand and immediately started pulling me back toward the driveway. “Didn’t I tell you it’s a construction zone?” “The fumes are toxic. It’s dangerous for you and the baby.” Dominic was rarely a talkative man. His sudden barrage of excuses was a glaring cover for his panic. I violently ripped my hand from his grip and pushed past him. “I said I just want to look.” He shifted his weight, completely blocking the doorway. His eyes darkened, pooling with a heavy, dangerous emotion. We stood in a suffocating stalemate. Then, he stepped forward and pulled me into a tight embrace, patting my back like a child. “Be good. Listen to me.” My cheek was pressed against his neck, and my eyes fell on the tattoo right behind his ear. Five years ago, a horrific car crash left me in a coma. Dominic knelt outside the ICU for three straight days, begging whatever god was listening to spare my life. Maybe the universe took pity on him. I survived the critical window, but I wouldn’t wake up. The doctors warned him that if I stayed under much longer, I might be trapped in a vegetative state forever. Desperate and losing his mind, he listened to an old superstition that said carving a loved one’s name behind your ear could absorb their misfortune. He was notoriously sensitive to pain, but he refused the numbing cream so he could get back to my bedside faster. He let the needle bite into his skin, etching my name into his flesh. I finally woke up. But five years had passed, and the ink had faded into a blurry grey. Just like his love for me. Fading. Disappearing. A tidal wave of betrayal and grief crashed over me. I lost my mind. I started thrashing, hammering my fists against his chest, and then I sank my teeth right into his neck. A sickeningly sweet vanilla perfume filled my nose, slicing through my heart like a serrated blade. I didn’t let go until the strong, metallic taste of his blood flooded my mouth. I pushed him hard. My vision was completely blurred by tears. I couldn’t even see his face. “Dominic, if you don’t love me anymore.” “You can just tell me. I would leave.” He grabbed my wrists with crushing force and yanked me back against his chest, holding me so tightly it felt like he was terrified I would vanish. Like he wanted to crush my bones into his own. “Don’t say stupid things. How could I ever stop loving you?” Maybe he did love me. Otherwise, why would he hide that girl away like a shameful secret? But his love was so incredibly cheap now. It was something he could just casually slice up and serve to someone else. Once my breathing finally leveled out, he drove me home. On the way, we passed a boutique florist. He pulled over abruptly. The owner was already flipping the open sign to closed, but Dominic bent down, pleading with the man. Just like he used to do. For every anniversary, he would cancel every single meeting. He would burst through the door right at midnight, holding a delicate pastry and a bouquet of the most vibrant roses. I used to cry tears of pure joy. He would tell me how he had to beg the florist to open up, asking for a kiss as his reward. But that girl didn’t have to wait until midnight. She just snapped her fingers and got the entirety of his devotion. I unlocked my phone and sent a quick text to my best friend, Stella, asking her to pick me up on Wednesday. The car door opened. Dominic handed me the bouquet, his eyes briefly flicking down to my illuminated screen. “Who are you talking to?” I locked the screen and took the flowers, not even bothering to look at the petals. “Just a friend.” A suffocating silence filled the rest of the drive. After dropping me off at the mansion, he claimed there was an emergency at the office and sped off into the night. I ordered a cab and followed him. I watched as the darkened windows of Moonridge lit up once again. The woman was waiting by the front steps, holding the child. Dominic jogged over, wrapping her in a tight hug. He laced his fingers through hers. The three of them leaned into each other, walking toward the front door. It was the exact image I had pictured in my head a thousand times. Me holding Dominic’s left hand, our baby holding his right, walking into our forever home.

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Liam, my boyfriend, deliberately locked me on the rooftop the day before my piano competition finals, just so his childhood friend could win. He stared at me intently, his voice low: “You’ll have plenty of other opportunities later. What’s the big deal about letting her have this one?” Later, to secure his childhood friend a spot in the orchestra, he even shattered my fingers with his own hands. I angrily confronted him, demanding to know why, when we were the couple. He replied: “Willow, Eloise’s mother saved my life back then. I have to fulfill this wish for her.” But what he didn’t know was that, without my hands, I was as good as dead. When I decided I no longer loved him, he smashed his own hand, begging for my forgiveness. … “Please, Liam, please don’t hurt my hands!” I pleaded, tears streaming down my face, twisting and struggling, shaking my head desperately. In this moment, I had no dignity, begging Liam to spare me. All because tomorrow was the day for orchestra auditions. If I performed exceptionally, I wouldn’t only secure a spot in a renowned orchestra, but I’d also have the chance to become a student of the legendary piano master, Mr. Fletcher. For tomorrow’s performance, I had tirelessly practiced in the music room, all to seize this once-in-four-years opportunity. Because this wasn’t just my dream; it was also the heartfelt wish my late mother had entrusted to me. With the long-awaited opportunity finally within reach tomorrow, my boyfriend, Liam, was paving the way for his childhood friend, Eloise Clark. Right now, he was using two bodyguards to hold me down, intending to smash my hands. All to ensure I couldn’t participate in tomorrow’s orchestra selection, thus allowing his childhood friend to win the competition. I knew Liam was biased, but I never imagined he would be this biased. Liam clearly heard my pleas, yet he still approached me step by step, a dark expression on his face, holding a stool. He stared at me intently, his voice low: “I’m sorry, Willow. You’re a genius, everything has come easily to you, so you don’t understand how difficult Eloise’s path has been. You’ll have plenty of other opportunities later. Just let her have this one, alright?” Just because Eloise’s path was difficult, did that mean mine wasn’t? I stared at him in disbelief, my heart filled with anguish: “So, for her, you’re going to smash my hands?!” “Do you remember? You once said you’d protect me and cherish me for life. But now, for Eloise Clark, you’re doing this to me.” Hearing my words, Liam’s body stiffened, his expression visibly wavering. I noticed his hesitation and felt a flicker of hope, quickly continuing: “Liam, for the sake of all these years we’ve been together, please let me go. Playing the piano has always been my dream too.” The next second, Liam’s phone rang. I caught a glimpse of “Eloise” on the screen, and my heart sank. Liam put it on speaker, and Eloise’s pitiful voice clearly reached my ears. “Liam, I get so nervous thinking about tomorrow’s performance, what should I do?” “I know I’ve always been no match for Willow all these years, but entering the orchestra is my dream, and it’s also my mother’s dream. I…” Hearing Eloise’s voice, a trace of heartache involuntarily flashed in Liam’s eyes. He lowered his voice, gently comforting her: “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it for you.” I stared at him, my unease intensifying. With that, Liam hung up. His gaze returned to me, cold once more. “I’m sorry, Willow. Eloise’s mother saved my life back then, so I have to fulfill this wish for her.” “Don’t worry, I’ll compensate you.” I was so terrified my voice trembled: “Liam, you… you can’t do this to me!” But Liam had already raised the stool in his hand, and meeting my terrified gaze, he brought it down heavily. “Ah!” Ten fingers, ten pains. The searing agony made me unleash a desperate scream. My fingers were instantly a bloody, mangled mess. I stared blankly at my hands. The physical pain, however, was far less than the emotional torment. Ruined… Everything was ruined… My hands, and my mother’s dream, all vanished with Liam’s single blow. Large tears streamed down my cheeks. At this, Liam rushed forward and embraced me. I leaned quietly against his broad, warm chest, but the voice above my head was chilling: “I’m sorry, Willow, just forgive me this once.” “I know this isn’t fair to you. But Eloise’s mother died saving me. Once she successfully joins the orchestra, I’ll have repaid my debt.” “Repaid your debt?” I repeated bitterly. “Liam, so your way of repaying Eloise Clark’s debt is to hurt me.” I pushed him away with all my might, holding up my blood-soaked hands, a flicker of hatred in my eyes: “Do you know how long I’ve worked tirelessly for tomorrow’s opportunity?” Perhaps startled by the hatred in my eyes, Liam’s face actually showed a hint of guilt. But quickly, he became impatient again, his voice cold: “Enough, what are you still making a fuss about? This has always been Eloise’s dream, and her mother’s dying wish.” In that moment, I finally, completely gave up on this callous and ungrateful man. I sneered: “How dare you destroy me for her dream?” Liam spoke indifferently: “It’s alright, Willow. I know you’re upset. Don’t worry, I’ll compensate you well. Once Eloise is in the orchestra, I’ll bring you into the Thorne family, ensuring you’ll be well-provided for for the rest of your life.” Hearing those words, my stomach churned with disgust. I took a deep breath, speaking each word distinctly: “Alright, then let me tell you, I don’t need your so-called compensation. From now on, I’m breaking up with you.” “Are you serious?” Liam’s face suddenly changed, and he said darkly: “I don’t agree.” He frowned, glaring at me, almost gritting his teeth: “Willow, I’ll let this slide this time. If you dare to say that again, I really will break up with you.” With that, Liam no longer looked at me, turning angrily and walking away. I watched his retreating back, helplessly collapsing onto the cold floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Liam and I met in college. He pulled me out of the way when I was lost in thought crossing the street, saving me from being hit by a car. I looked up, still shaken, and met a handsome, aloof face. It was because of his life-saving grace that I fell uncontrollably in love with him. With my fervent pursuit, Liam agreed to be with me. But as our relationship progressed, I gradually discovered that in Liam’s heart, there seemed to be someone more important than me. That was Eloise Clark, his childhood friend, who had grown up with him. Each time Eloise made a call, Liam would rush to her side without a second thought. He even, for Eloise, tricked me onto the rooftop and locked me in, the day before a major piano competition final. And so, I was locked on the rooftop for an entire night, not only missing the competition the next day but also developing a fever of 104 degrees Fahrenheit. Eloise, meanwhile, smoothly won first place. Afterward, Liam lightly explained that he did it only to repay a debt. Eloise came from a single-parent family; her mother was the Thorne family’s housekeeper. She had lived with her mother at the Thorne estate since childhood. During a large fire, Eloise’s mother had already escaped, but she returned to the burning building to save Liam. Ultimately, Liam was rescued safely, but Eloise’s mother suffered severe burns and passed away in the hospital not long after. Out of this gratitude, the Thorne family raised Eloise almost as their own daughter. They cherished her, sympathized with her. And whenever Eloise had a request, Liam would fulfill it. Just like now, to prevent me, Eloise’s most formidable competitor, from appearing in tomorrow’s audition, Liam ruthlessly shattered my fingers. But why should his debt to Eloise be repaid with my hands, with my dreams? Whenever I questioned his relationship with Eloise, Liam would furiously tell me that he only saw Eloise as a sister. He told me not to overthink things. Before, for Liam’s life-saving grace and the admiration in my heart, I had chosen to forgive him again and again. But now, looking at my bloody, horrific hands, I cried and laughed, laughed and cried. At six years old, my father had an affair and abandoned my mother and me. My mother was devastated, driven to self-harm by his departure. Her profound depression, coupled with the scars on her hands, once made her abandon her dream of playing the piano. Until one day, my despondent mother heard me playing a song at the piano and her eyes lit up. She began to pick herself up, working tirelessly to earn money. She personally taught me piano and hired renowned teachers for me, sending me to various competitions. My mother delivered food, washed dishes, and single-handedly raised me with great difficulty. Perhaps because she suffered so much to raise me, my mother died prematurely of cancer during my college years. On her deathbed, she held my hand and told me her dying wish. It was for me to continue to pursue piano, to join an orchestra, and to become a student of the great Mr. Fletcher. But now, because I fell in love with Liam, I missed the competition, my hands were ruined, and perhaps… I would never be able to play the piano again. I used to not understand why my mother was so despondent and even self-harmed because of my father’s departure. So, Mother, is this the price of loving someone? Then this time, I truly don’t dare to love again…

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Noah and I had been dating for five years. Just one day before our wedding, I discovered his private cloud drive. It was filled with over ten thousand photos of the exact same girl. Alongside them were thousands of flight itineraries, all round trips to the same city in Europe. I did not say a single word. I simply packed my bags and left on the day we were supposed to get married. The bride vanished, just as he secretly hoped. Yet, when I was actually gone, he lost his mind. 1 I stared at the glowing monitor. My pupils trembled, and my heart slammed against my ribs so hard I could barely breathe. Tens of thousands of photos. Endless screenshots of flight tickets. “Are you really getting married? You are not waiting for Luna to come back from overseas? I thought you were going to wait for her forever.” Mason’s drunken words from a few weeks ago echoed in my ears. He had let it slip when he first heard about our engagement. That was the very first time I had ever heard the name of Noah’s first love. Tragically, it took me until this exact moment to understand what Mason truly meant. The cloud drive was updated every single month. The photos Noah and I had taken together over our entire five year relationship did not even add up to a fraction of what he uploaded for her in a single folder. Whenever we went on dates and I wanted to take a picture to capture the memory, he always found an excuse to brush me off. He would say we were together every day. He would say we had the rest of our lives to take pictures, so there was no need to force it. Sitting in front of his computer, the freezing truth finally washed over me. It was not that taking pictures was unnecessary. I was just unnecessary to him. I stared at the timestamps watermarked in the corners of the photos. Pulling out my phone, I cross referenced the dates with our old text messages. Without fail, every single time a photo was taken, Noah had told me he was out of town for a corporate training seminar or a grueling business trip. The camera he kept in his study always conveniently vanished during those trips too. The smooth, effortless lies in our chat history made my chest physically ache. I abruptly shut down his computer, stood up, and rushed into the bedroom to pack my bags. I needed to get out. But the moment I pulled open the closet doors, a suffocating wave of familiarity hit me. Every single dress, every sweater, every coat hanging in my closet had appeared on Luna in those photos. And every single one of these clothes was a “surprise gift” from Noah. I slammed the closet doors shut and sank to the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees in absolute helplessness. Tears completely blurred my vision. My hands shook violently as I typed out a message to my boss, Arthur. I told him I wanted to apply for the open position at our overseas branch in London. He called me immediately. He was silent for a long moment before letting out a soft sigh. “It is good for young people to be cautious. Marriage is not something you should rush into. I will submit your paperwork right now. Take some time to rest while we wait for the final approval.” His voice held relief and a quiet sense of understanding. The only thing missing was surprise. It seemed that everyone around us already knew Noah and I were never going to make it to the altar. I hung up the phone and opened a travel app, preparing to book a one way ticket for tomorrow morning. Right then, the sound of the front door unlocking echoed through the apartment. I pushed myself off the floor and walked out into the living room. The absolute adoration that used to fill my eyes whenever I looked at him was entirely gone. Noah walked in and, just like always, pressed a soft, habitual kiss to my forehead. Only today, he was holding a small bakery box. “I got off work early today, so I picked this up just for you. Try a bite. I have a college reunion tonight, so I have to head out soon.” I glanced at the box. Through the clear plastic window, I saw a rich chocolate mousse cake. A sharp, mocking gleam flashed through my eyes. “No thanks. I lost my appetite. Besides… I am allergic to chocolate.” For a fraction of a second, he looked dazed. Then, it clicked. It was the same sentence I told him every single year. And every single year, he completely forgot. Seeing my blank expression, he assumed I wasn’t actually mad. He smiled and affectionately ruffled my hair. “My bad, babe. Work has been absolutely insane lately. I promise I will buy you a different one tomorrow after the wedding.” In the past, trapped in my blind ignorance, I believed every excuse that fell from his lips. But after seeing those photos, I finally understood his obsession with chocolate. It was Luna’s absolute favorite. And “work has been insane” was the ultimate, foolproof shield he used for everything. 2 The last upload to his cloud drive was exactly three days ago. I looked into his eyes. They were completely devoid of any real emotional depth. I nodded slowly, choosing not to rip off his mask just yet. I wanted to leave us with a final shred of dignity. Seeing that I wasn’t throwing a tantrum like I used to, his lips curled into a pleased smile. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a velvet jewelry box, snapping it open in front of me. A silver necklace with a crescent moon pendant encrusted with crushed diamonds caught the light, making my eyes sting. I accepted it with a completely blank face, turned around, and walked back into the bedroom. I opened my nightstand drawer and tossed the necklace inside. Then, I slipped the silver promise ring off my finger. It had a tiny moon engraved on the inner band. I tossed it into the drawer too. Inside that drawer lay a matching moon bracelet, moon studs, a moon hairpin… I used to wonder why he was so wildly obsessed with moon motifs. Now that I knew Luna’s name, the translation was obvious. Everything revolved around the moon. As I closed the drawer, Noah’s upbeat, expectant voice drifted in from the hallway. “You should wear the jewelry I bought you for the wedding tomorrow! The whole moon set will look gorgeous on you.” “Anyway, be a good girl and stay home tonight. I am heading out to the reunion. It is my last night as a bachelor, so I might be back a bit late. Do not wait up.” I didn’t answer. I stayed huddled in the bedroom like a ghost. I repeated a silent mantra in my head. We were never having a wedding. Not tomorrow. Not ever. As soon as the front door clicked shut, I walked into the kitchen and threw the chocolate cake directly into the trash can. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the glass display cabinet. Inside were all the cute little bakery tags and ribbons from every single cake he had brought home over the last five years. They sat there, silently mocking my pathetic, one woman play. I treasured the literal garbage he handed me, treating it like gold, while I was nothing but a disposable convenience to him. I opened the cabinet and swept every last piece of it into the garbage. Then, I finally started packing for London. Aside from my clothes and my own jewelry, the only things going into my suitcase were basic daily necessities. As I dug through the cabinets, I stumbled upon even more harsh truths. Over the last five years, every carefully selected gift I had ever given Noah was shoved into random, dusty corners of the apartment. Many of them were completely expired, the plastic wrapping still fully intact. No wonder he always dodged the question when I asked how he liked my gifts. He always claimed they were too precious to use. Looking back, he probably just tossed them aside and genuinely forgot where he put them. Meanwhile, all of his premium grooming products and colognes were imported from the exact same city in Europe. The city where Luna lived. I gathered all his imported bottles and swept them directly into the trash bin. I was throwing away my love for him, right alongside the pathetic, desperate version of myself. The exact second I zipped my suitcase shut, my phone rang. It was Mason. “Audrey, Noah is completely wasted. Do you think you could come pick him up? I will text you the address.” Through the receiver, I could clearly hear Noah’s hoarse voice chanting a name in the background. “Luna…” His voice was dripping with pure desperation, religious devotion, and the euphoric joy of finding something he thought he had lost forever. But it was not slurred. He wasn’t drunk at all. My breath caught in my throat. My heart flatlined for a full second. Mason panicked, quickly covering the microphone before hanging up the call. I stood by my suitcase, staring at the wall. I hesitated for a couple of seconds before grabbing my coat and calling a cab to the address Mason sent. This was the final night. Since I had already decided to walk away forever, I needed absolute closure. No lingering doubts. No regrets. When I reached the heavy oak doors of the VIP lounge, the muffled sounds of laughter and teasing spilled through the cracks. “I can’t believe Luna actually flew back today! Did you hear some news about our boy Noah? We are definitely not letting you leave tonight!” Looking through the narrow glass panel in the door, I saw an expression on Noah’s face I had never witnessed in five years. He looked vibrant, reckless, and completely alive. His eyes were absolutely glued to the woman sitting across from him. The woman whose face I had just scrutinized in tens of thousands of photos. 3 Around her neck rested a crescent moon diamond necklace. It was the exact same design Noah had handed me an hour ago. Except hers was noticeably larger, custom made, and infinitely more brilliant. I took a deep breath and pushed the lounge doors open. The chaotic noise in the room died instantly. Noah clearly had no idea I was coming. His brows snapped together in deep confusion, a flash of irritation crossing his features. Mason was the first to jump up and play the mediator. “Oh, hey! Audrey! Let me introduce you. This is Luna, our old college classmate. She moved to Europe five years ago and literally just landed today. What crazy timing, right?” Mason’s eyes darted back and forth between Noah and Luna, practically glowing with amusement. He called me here on purpose. It was a sick game to him. If this were the old me, I probably would have lost control. I would have screamed, demanding to know why they were meeting up the night before our wedding, begging to know why no one stopped this. But now, I just stood there, offering a perfectly calm, polite smile. When Mason finally got around to introducing me, he used the word “fiancée.” The second the word left his mouth, Noah started violently coughing into his hand. Luna seamlessly reached over, grabbed a napkin, and gently dabbed the corner of his mouth. Her movements were fluid and entirely natural. After a long, agonizing moment, Noah’s face flushed deep red as he finally spoke. “She is just a really close friend.” My eyelashes fluttered. Under the burning, entertained gazes of everyone in the room, I smiled and nodded in agreement. My fingernails were digging so deeply into my palms the skin was breaking, but I refused to let a single tear fall. He never wanted to acknowledge my title publicly. I was used to it. Even our wedding invitations were just a mass text message sent out to his acquaintances. No engagement photos. No mention of the bride’s name. I used to fabricate endless excuses for his behavior. I foolishly thought that if I just bet my entire heart on these five years, I would eventually win. But time after time, I was always the loser. I forced my smile to stay bright as I looked directly at Luna. “You are even more beautiful in person than in pictures. And your necklace… is stunning.” The entire room fell into a suffocating, awkward silence. Terrified that I was going to cause a scene, Noah quickly grabbed a cocktail from the table and shoved it into my hand to keep me quiet. I looked down at the dark liquid. It was a Black Russian. A chocolate liqueur cocktail. My smile completely froze. I looked him dead in the eye, enunciating every single word. “I cannot drink chocolate…” I had literally reminded him two hours ago in our living room. He had already erased it from his memory. A flash of genuine panic crossed Noah’s face. Just as he reached out to swap my drink, Luna intercepted. She smoothly lifted the glass from my hand. “I will take it. I am not picky.” Noah’s panic instantly shifted into deep concern. “Wait, the bartender mixed lemon juice into that one. You hate the taste of lemon, remember?” In that split second, it felt like a grenade detonated inside my chest. Razor sharp shrapnel pierced my lungs. Every breath I took felt like inhaling broken glass. He didn’t have a bad memory. He just couldn’t be bothered to allocate a single brain cell to my existence. Luna let out a soft, musical laugh and reached out, playfully tapping Noah on the nose. “I drank these all the time in Europe. I am used to it now. It is fine.” She placed the glass in front of her and stood up to use the restroom. Only then did Noah lean in, lowering his voice to desperately whisper in my ear. “I am so sorry, I completely forgot. I swear I will pay more attention next time. But everyone is watching. Could you just take one sip to be polite? I will run out and buy your allergy medicine right after, I promise.” “Please do not overthink this. She is just an old friend I haven’t seen in years. She has no idea we are getting married tomorrow, and explaining it would just ruin the mood, so…” Before he could even finish his pathetic excuse, I simply nodded. He had absolutely no idea that I had been on a strict no sugar diet for months just to look perfect in my wedding dress tomorrow. He had no idea that I treated my severe allergens like literal poison. 4 The tears pooling in my eyes finally spilled over as I turned my head. He honestly believed I didn’t know who his first love was. He thought he was a masterful liar. Fine. I would give him exactly what he wanted. Playing the clueless fool was the one thing I was truly an expert at. “I know. You don’t need to explain.” He let out a massive, visible sigh of relief. To break the suffocating tension, Mason loudly suggested they play a drinking game. Spin the bottle. The moment Luna walked back into the room and sat down, the bottle spun and landed dead center on Noah. The guys started howling, demanding that Noah hand over his phone and open his photo gallery for everyone to see. Their eyes darted between the three of us, hungry for drama. Noah looked visibly cornered. One of the guys groaned, waving his hand. “Come on, you guys realize Noah is getting married soon, right? His gallery is just going to be boring photos of his future wife. Let’s make him open his texts instead. That is where the real dirt is!” Another guy laughed. “Why didn’t you say that sooner? Next round! Next round!” Noah’s face flushed. He instinctively shot a nervous, completely transparent glance at Luna. He pulled out his phone to unlock it. The VIP room was too dark, and the facial recognition failed three times in a row. With the phone about to lock him out completely, he was forced to type in his passcode in full view of the table. Six digits. As soon as he finished, Luna’s eyes flickered with a strange, satisfied light. A teasing whistle came from the corner of the booth. “Hold up. Those numbers look super familiar. Whose birthday is that? Wait… Luna, isn’t that yours?” Noah cleared his throat, refusing to make eye contact. “I don’t know. I just got used to the muscle memory and forgot to change it.” Mason lost his patience and snatched the phone right out of Noah’s hand. The next second, Noah’s entire camera roll was projected onto the smart TV on the wall. A collective wave of disappointment washed over the guys’ faces. There were no pictures of me. There were no boring work documents. There wasn’t any scandalous gossip to laugh about. There was nothing but the moon. Five years. Nineteen hundred photos. Noah and Luna locked eyes across the table. The air between them practically hummed with an exclusive, deeply romantic tension. The rest of the guys and I were completely walled off, existing in an entirely different dimension. My heart crashed into an endless abyss. The blood rushing in my ears was so loud it drowned out the music. Luna meant “moon” in Latin. Every single photo was a silent love letter to her. Finally, Mason sighed in disappointment. “Bro, what is wrong with you? Why are you taking so many pictures of the sky? You trying to be a photographer?” Luna smiled, her eyes melting into pools of liquid affection. “I think photography is a much more sophisticated hobby than playing video games. I actually really appreciate it.” It was as if she were declaring to the room that out of everyone there, she was the only one who truly understood his soul. The first round ended. When the second round finished, the loser was Noah again. This time, the dare was to choose a woman in the room and kiss her. The mastermind behind the dare was, unsurprisingly, Mason. Luna and I were the only two women in the booth. The guys started chanting, slamming their hands on the table. Noah gritted his teeth, glaring daggers at Mason for a full minute. Finally, he grabbed his jacket and stood up. “I’m drunk. I’m going home.” Seeing the show was over, the rest of the group started filtering out of the lounge. The three of us walked out to the curb to hail a cab. Suddenly, a speeding sports car drifted dangerously close to the sidewalk. Without a single second of hesitation, Noah grabbed Luna by the waist and violently yanked her into his chest to shield her. The sheer force of his movement knocked me off balance. I crashed hard onto the concrete. The palms of my hands, right where my nails had dug in earlier, scraped violently against the pavement. Blood instantly welled up from the torn skin. The stinging pain made me bite down hard on my lip. I forced the tears back into the corners of my eyes. This was my last night before I vanished. I absolutely refused to show him any vulnerability. Noah looked down at me. A fleeting shadow of guilt finally crossed his face. He reached down to help me up. Just as he opened his mouth to apologize, I shook my head and pulled my arm away.

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Simon’s best friend opened a swanky new club. He sweet-talked me, saying it was just a one-time thing to support his friend. But then “one time” turned into many. “Ann is so pitiful, unloved by her parents, forced to make a living here at such a young age.” That’s why he needed to go often, to “support” her. I couldn’t understand, so I decided to visit the club myself. There, I unexpectedly stumbled upon Leo, who was being bullied. Similarly unloved by his parents, he also had a sickly younger sister. Seeing the boy’s cold, broken demeanor, I thought, perhaps I could be his supporter. 1. Originally, I had no intention of meeting Ann. As my husband’s suspected, or actively ongoing, affair partner, we were destined to be on opposing sides. Unless, of course, she was completely oblivious, but the reality was clearly otherwise. So, I despised her. And meeting someone you dislike is an utterly draining experience. I refused to put myself through that. But today—it was my birthday, and our seventh wedding anniversary. The candlelight dinner, the exquisite cake… neither had been touched. Ann’s call came through. “They’re all forcing me to drink, but I really can’t. I’m so scared, brother, please come and save me, okay?” The girl was crying hysterically. Fragile, pathetic. It instantly ignited Simon’s protective instincts. He hung up the phone, mumbled an apology to me, and got up to leave. Without a moment of hesitation. I stopped him: “Do you have to go?” The same excuse, time and again. I was tired of hearing it. Yet, Simon remained consistently worried. Stopped by me, his usual composure vanished. His tone even carried obvious impatience. Every word a reprimand. “I’ve told you repeatedly, Ann is unloved by her parents, forced to make a living in that kind of place. She’s already so pitiful.” “Celeste, don’t be so heartless. Have a little more sympathy, alright?” With that, he disregarded my protests and left decisively. I watched his retreating back, and then the dining table. The birthday candles he had just lit, then abandoned. The candlelight flickered, beautiful. But wax had dripped onto the cake. It was ruined. I had a slight germ phobia, so I couldn’t eat it anymore. As for the candles, I leaned down and gently blew them out. Then I made a wish: “Celeste, don’t feel wronged, and don’t run away.” 2. The club was lavish, and clients were strictly invitation-only. Fortunately, I had the backing of my parents. The Harrington family was one of the most prominent in the city. They wouldn’t dare block my entry. Initially, I intended to go straight to Ann. But as I stepped into the main hall on the ground floor, I noticed several tipsy socialites. They were circling a young man, laughing and teasing. They even poured their drinks all over his head, tormenting him for amusement. I happened to know a bit about these young men. Because of their shared preferences, they often ganged up, ruining one pretty boy after another. This time, I supposed, was no exception. I hadn’t planned to help. There were too many pitiful people in this world. I wasn’t a saint. I couldn’t save everyone. Donating a large sum to orphanages every year was enough for my conscience. So, I hadn’t intended to interfere. Until he suddenly pushed through the crowd, stumbled, and then tripped deliberately. He fell right in front of me. How to describe it? He was utterly captivating. His delicate features were beautiful, and that went without saying. He was originally dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, thin and slender. But with several drinks spilled on him, the defiant, handsome boy now had an added air of cold, shattered vulnerability. What was subtly visible beneath his shirt only made one want to explore further. The term “fragile beauty,” usually reserved for girls, suited him perfectly. Humans, with their inherent flaws, always show more patience towards beautiful things. I was no exception. “Leo, we’re doing you a favor by letting you serve us drinks! Don’t you dare disrespect us!” the leader of the group shouted, rushing over. He looked down at Leo, who was sprawled on the floor, his eyes full of anger and menace. But as he recognized Leo’s face, his expression shifted to lust and greed. He even reached out, uncontrollably, to touch the boy’s face. Leo tried to dodge, but he seemed to have twisted his ankle. He struggled several times but couldn’t get up, his eyes filled with helplessness and humiliation. Finally, his pleading gaze fell upon me. His voice was soft. He said, “Help me.” Looking at Leo’s face, more beautiful than any girl’s, now pale from the bullying, his lips even bruised. He looked up at me, his eyes red-rimmed, vulnerable and utterly endearing. It was hard to be heartless and not help him. In that instant, I thought of Ann. The girl Simon described as—equally fragile and pitiful, needing protection. So, this was the so-called protective urge. It was indeed hard to refuse. I tugged at the corner of my mouth. A little self-deprecating, but I still stepped in front of Leo. Facing those detestable socialites, I declared my identity directly: “My name is Harrington, Celeste Harrington.” No need for further words. Customers who could afford to patronize Moonlight were all influential figures in our circle, and the Harrington name spoke for itself. The young men exchanged glances. Finally, they backed down. But as they left, they couldn’t help but look back at Leo with resentment, a sinister smile playing on their lips. “Miss Harrington already has a husband. Even if she’s interested in you now, it’s only temporary. One day, you’ll still fall into our hands!” This wasn’t untrue. If my marriage to Simon hadn’t been troubled, and with the Harrington family’s strict upbringing, even if I saved Leo temporarily, at most I’d help him leave this place. I wouldn’t interfere much beyond that. After all, everyone has their own fate. He and I were not related; helping once could be considered a kindness. But I had no obligation to manage his future. He seemed to understand this. Struggling to get up from the floor, he ignored the menacing socialites. Instead, he sincerely thanked me. “Thank you, big sister, no matter what.” He was likely young, eighteen or nineteen, radiating youth and freshness, perfectly complemented by that captivating face. The address “big sister” touched my heart somewhat. However, just as I was about to speak, a loud commotion suddenly erupted nearby—drawing the attention of almost everyone in the lobby. 3. Simon had gotten into a fight. Three against one. While fighting, he didn’t forget to shield the young woman behind him. Three executives whose names I knew. In no time, Simon had kicked them all to the ground, even stepping on one’s chest, his eyes ruthless. “Ann is under my protection. How dare you force her to drink?” At his words, the executive with a black eye, fuming, retorted, “If she doesn’t drink, then what is she selling?” Another executive, still bleeding from his nose, also accused, “Besides, we had an agreement! She said for every drink she had, we’d buy a bottle. She’s the one who told us to buy ten bottles!” The executive with Simon’s foot on his chest was the most aggrieved. He practically roared, “She tricked us into buying a million dollars worth of alcohol, then didn’t drink a single drop, making it seem like we were bullying her! Do we look like such suckers?” In clubs like this, it was an unwritten rule: to get customers to buy drinks, you had to at least have a few with them. After all, with a 10% commission, a million dollars in alcohol meant a hundred thousand for her. If you wanted to make money fast, you couldn’t have it both ways. Of course, not drinking was fine, it just meant it would be hard to sell much alcohol and earn significant commission. But Ann’s behavior—making an agreement with customers and then going back on it—I had never seen before. Others likely hadn’t either. So, the crowd in the lobby, after hearing the executives’ accusations, couldn’t help but whisper among themselves. But it didn’t matter, in this circle, it was all about power. So Simon could be unreasonable. Because his name was Harrington, and he was the heir to the Harrington family, one of the top elite families. He naturally spoke up: “Ann is pitiful, unloved by her parents. She just wants to earn some money for her tuition. Do you really need to pressure her like this? Can’t you be more understanding?” At his words, not only were the executives dumbfounded, but even I couldn’t help but want to laugh. Ever since Simon first “accidentally” rescued Ann at Moonlight, he had learned about the stubborn and tragic fate of this girl. The young woman’s delicate face, streaked with tears, made his heart ache. That’s why he repeatedly came to Moonlight to stand up for her. He even declared to me, emphatically, that he was merely pitying a young girl. Even when I suggested: “If he’s truly honorable and genuinely wants to help her, he could offer her a small clerical position in one of our companies. Wouldn’t that be better than working here?” A Fortune 500 company, even a minor clerical role, was an offer countless students from top universities would claw their way to get. Now, it was being offered directly to her. Wasn’t that enough? No. Not only was it not enough, it was an insult. Ann said: “Here, I earn money with my own skills and hands. I live with integrity. If I went to your company, that would be through favoritism. I don’t want to be a hothouse flower; I can grow into a towering tree on my own!” Her words were firm and ringing, and Simon admired her even more, turning to scold me. “Celeste, don’t insult people with your money and connections!” That was the first intense argument Simon and I had. Then came the second, and the third. Even now, I still couldn’t understand Ann’s claims of independence and relying solely on herself. After all, she called Simon two out of three days, asking him to come to Moonlight to rescue her. The remaining day, under the guise of gratitude, she spent twenty-four hours by his side, acting as a dutiful “little maid.” Whether it was genuine gratitude or a form of flirtation, only they knew. However, at this moment, Ann, hiding behind him, couldn’t help but speak up: “I really didn’t mean to deceive you. I just wanted to save up for tuition and living expenses, which is why I came here to make a living. But I genuinely can’t drink; I get dizzy, I get sick.” Ann cried as she spoke, also eighteen or nineteen, full of youthful collagen, and her crying was truly pitiful. Simon’s heartache was almost expected. He pulled her into his arms, then took out a black card from his pocket, looking at the Moonlight manager standing nearby. He simply said coldly: “I’ll cover all of Ann’s future earnings.” Ann shook her head, biting her lip stubbornly. “Brother, I know you mean well, but I still want to earn money with my own abilities. Besides, you’re already married. If you spend more money on me, your wife would be unhappy.” Hearing this, Simon’s eyes softened even more, tinged with helplessness. “I offered you a job at my company before, where I could protect you. It would be safer than here, wouldn’t it? Why did you refuse?” “Because I don’t want people saying I got in through favoritism. I want to earn money with my own skills.” Ann shook her head, her attitude still firm. Simon chuckled, his tone impossibly doting: “How can there be such a stubborn, silly girl in the world?” With that, he dropped his smile, then leaned down and publicly kissed Ann on the cheek. In front of everyone, he declared: “Ann has me to back her up from now on. Let’s see who dares to bully her again.” 4. Ann was well-behaved, leaning against Simon, her face flushed. She then playfully punched Simon a few times, her lips slightly pouted: “Who needs your protection? I can live very well on my own.” Simon coaxed her: “Yes, yes, Ann is the most amazing.” They laughed and played around so brazenly. Many people recognized Simon’s identity. And the marriage between the Harrington and Sterling families. The grand wedding seven years ago was known to almost everyone in the city. So, while teasing Simon about his new conquest, they couldn’t help but mention me. “In our circles, which husband doesn’t have a few women outside? But I thought Simon would be an exception.” “Who wouldn’t agree? Celeste and Simon, childhood sweethearts, a truly perfect match. I remember Simon offered his entire fortune as a dowry just to marry Celeste, which finally convinced Old Man Harrington to agree.” “And that’s not all. A few years ago, when the Cloudhaven Mall caught fire and Celeste was trapped inside, Simon didn’t care about his own life and rushed into the blaze just to save his wife.” “For these past seven years, Simon and Celeste’s relationship has been incredibly good. How many aspiring actresses and models tried to gain favor, only to be firmly rejected by Simon?” “Ultimately, it’s just that he hadn’t met the right person before.” “Miss Harrington is going to be heartbroken this time.”

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On the eve of my wedding, my adopted sister was set to marry into the wealthiest bloodline in Manhattan, the Blackwood family. Victor Blackwood possessed a net worth in the billions. He was also seventy six years old. My fiancé could not bear the thought of my fragile sister marrying a man with one foot in the grave. That very night, he rushed over to our estate to propose to her instead. The following day, on what was supposed to be my wedding day, I stood completely alone in my bridal gown, thanking the guests who were awkwardly filtering out of the venue. Unexpectedly, an elderly man leaning on a silver tipped cane hobbled toward me. He reached into his coat and placed a priceless, flawless emerald signet ring on the table. “Miss Sinclair, your fiancé stole my bride. I need you to take her place. What do you say?” I gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Shall we get married right now? The venue is still booked.” 1 Victor chuckled, stroking his chin. “There is no rush.” He evaluated the cheap, tacky wedding setup around us. The tip of his cane poked lightly at the hem of my dress, tearing a small hole through the cheap fabric. My dress was already fraying at the seams. I had worn it for half the day, and the imitation rhinestones were scattering across the floor like cheap confetti. I should have known Oliver Prescott never truly intended to give me a proper wedding. Victor’s expression darkened. “Miss Sinclair, the Blackwood family prides itself on absolute grandeur. We will certainly not hold a ceremony in a third rate venue like this.” He turned slightly. A butler stepped out from the shadows and immediately handed me a heavy, crimson velvet invitation. “One week from now. The most exclusive hotel in the city. The guest list is already prepared, and your gown will be custom haute couture. How does that sound?” I offered a faint smile. “Whatever you say, Mr. Blackwood.” Not long after Victor departed, Oliver finally showed up. I gripped the cold emerald ring tightly in my palm and barely glanced at him. “My apologies, Mr. Prescott. The wedding has been canceled.” Knowing he was entirely in the wrong, Oliver lowered his voice, trying to sound soothing. “Violet, please do not be angry.” “Sophie suffers from severe depression. Old man Blackwood is seventy six years old. If she marries into that house, the stress will literally kill her.” “She relies on me so much. I absolutely could not stand by and watch her throw her life away to an old man.” “So you decided to sacrifice me instead?” I looked at him, finding his twisted logic almost comical. “Did you ever stop to think about how I was supposed to face the absolute humiliation of standing at the altar alone today?” Oliver furrowed his brows. “I thought you would be understanding…” He took a step closer, his tone softening into a patronizing whisper. “We have been together for years. Do you really have the heart to make things this difficult for me?” “Sophie is just a fragile young girl. She is weaker than you. She cannot handle being hurt.” I let out a cold, bitter laugh. “So your fiancée can be publicly abandoned and humiliated, but Sophie cannot suffer even the slightest inconvenience?” Oliver’s face hardened. “Violet, do not twist my words.” “You know Sophie is a clinical patient. If she has a mental breakdown and does something drastic, would you really be able to sleep at night?” He reached out, attempting to grab my hand. “You are still my woman. That fact will not change. I had no choice with Sophie, but I swear I will make it up to you.” He lowered his voice even further, leaning in. “I will set you up in a private penthouse. I will take care of all your expenses. Once you give birth to a son for me, I promise I will give you a proper title and bring you back into the Prescott estate.” I actually laughed. For a brief second, I genuinely hoped I was hallucinating. Then, I raised my hand and slapped him as hard as I could across the face. Oliver stumbled back, completely stunned. “You…” “So let me get this straight. You leave me here to be a public laughingstock on our wedding day, turn around to marry Sophie, and I am supposed to weep tears of gratitude while I stay in the shadows and breed for you?” I narrowed my eyes. “And once I am done, you will graciously grant me the title of your dirty little secret?” Oliver’s expression turned lethal, the fabricated warmth instantly vanishing from his eyes. “Violet, I was giving you a generous way out. Do you really think you are some untouchable royalty?” “Everyone in Manhattan knows you were mine. You are damaged goods. Who else would possibly marry you if you leave me?” “I have been more than merciful. If you know what is good for you, you will behave and do exactly as I say.” With that, he straightened his jacket, turned on his heel, and stormed off. I stood rooted to the spot. It took a full minute before I realized my hands were violently shaking. Oliver used to be different. We grew up together. Our marriage was arranged when we were practically kids. He used to be so gentle, so fiercely protective of me. But everything completely shattered the day my parents brought Sophie home as their newly adopted daughter. Sophie claimed she was emotionally unstable. She demanded Oliver be by her side constantly. Gradually, he began waiting on her hand and foot. He took her to her therapy appointments, drove her to the coast to clear her mind, and personally cooked her meals. Whenever her insomnia flared up, he would stay awake all night just to sit by her bed. Once, I was involved in a car accident. Bleeding heavily from a head wound, I dialed his number in a panic. His voice on the other end was dripping with sheer impatience. “Sophie just barely stabilized, and now you are causing a scene to get my attention? Call an ambulance yourself.” I had gripped my phone tightly, tears mixing with the blood on my face. Looking back, that was the exact moment I should have realized I had been completely erased from his world. 2 The very next day, Victor Blackwood’s betrothal gifts arrived at the Sinclair estate. An entire city block was shut down by a fleet of sleek, black luxury vehicles. When the trunks popped open, they revealed heavy gold bars, flawless emeralds, antique porcelain, and rare vintage paintings. It was a display of wealth most people could not even fathom. My mother clutched a heavy emerald necklace to her chest, her hands literally trembling with greed. “Look at this! This is a Colombian emerald! A real emerald!” My father cradled an antique purple clay teapot, his face practically splitting from smiling so hard. “Look at the sincerity of the Blackwoods. Violet marrying into that family is the best thing that could happen to us.” “What an incredible match! Just incredible!” I stood off to the side, watching their performance with dead eyes. They were cheering as if they had just won the lottery, completely ignoring the fact that I was the winning ticket being cashed in. My mother grabbed my hands tightly. “Violet, once you move into that mansion, you have to be obedient. Be a good girl. Do not do anything to upset Mr. Blackwood.” “He is getting up there in years. If you take good care of him, just imagine his will. Once the inheritance is divided, our Sinclair family will ascend to the absolute top of Manhattan’s elite!” I listened in silence. I did not say a single word. In that moment, I found the entire situation hilariously grotesque. Were these really my parents? Shouldn’t they be terrified that I was being sold off to an old man? When the news first broke that Sophie was arranged to marry Victor, they had sobbed and wailed as if the sky was falling. They acted like it was a death sentence. But now that my name was on the marriage certificate, it was suddenly a glorious blessing from above? From the corner of the room, I caught the hushed whispers of the household maids. “I heard the old man is knocking on heaven’s door. His health is completely failing.” “Tell me about it. Just a few days ago, he was in the ICU fighting for his life all night.” “He could drop dead at any moment.” “Miss Violet is going to have a miserable life. Becoming a widow right after the honeymoon? How cursed.” “Being a widow is the least of her worries. The Blackwoods are an ancient, ruthless bloodline. I heard his first two wives died under terrifying circumstances right after he passed. They say the family buries the wives alongside the patriarch to keep him company in the afterlife.” “Wait… you don’t think they will make Miss Violet…” Their terrified gossip drifted into my ears, but my expression remained completely flat. Buried alive with him? Fine. It didn’t matter. No one in this house loved me anyway. From the second Sophie stepped through the front door, she became the undisputed jewel of the Sinclair family. I was nothing but a burden. Her bedroom was lined with imported cashmere rugs. Her walk in closet was stuffed with limited edition designer bags. Meanwhile, my room was smaller than the servant quarters. The window frames leaked freezing air all winter, forcing me to sleep under two heavy wool blankets just to stop shivering. She loved premium caviar and truffles. My mother would personally prepare it and deliver it to her room on a silver tray. If I boiled a pot of water for tea, I was scolded for wasting the gas bill. When Sophie casually mentioned she liked pink diamonds, my parents immediately commissioned a custom, one of a kind necklace just for her. Meanwhile, I did not even own a basic string of freshwater pearls. But everything was different now. The betrothal gifts from the Blackwoods filled the entire grand hall. The luxury items I was never even allowed to look at were now piled up right in front of my feet. I casually reached into a velvet box and pulled out a stunning ruby necklace, letting the heavy stones catch the light. Seeing this, my mother immediately frowned. “What are you doing touching those? Put it down!” I shot her a freezing glare. “The Blackwoods sent these for me. Are you saying I cannot wear my own jewelry?” Her face turned a sickly shade of pale. She opened her mouth to argue but ultimately swallowed her anger. “Fine. Wear it. Just don’t break anything.” Absolutely pathetic. I sifted through the boxes, pulling out a tiara encrusted with brilliant cut diamonds. I placed it on my head, looking at my reflection in the gilded mirror, and forced a smile. No one in this world loved me, and marrying into the Blackwood family might very well be a death sentence. But at least for right now, all of these beautiful things belonged to me. If I was going to die, I was going to enjoy the absolute peak of luxury before I went out. Dripping in diamonds and rubies, I walked right out the front door. Just as I stepped onto the sidewalk, a familiar luxury car pulled up directly in front of me. 3 The car door swung open. Sophie, wearing six inch designer heels and clinging tightly to Oliver’s arm, stepped out onto the pavement. The moment she saw me, she paused, then covered her mouth to muffle a mocking giggle. “Violet, what exactly are you wearing?” She looked me up and down with exaggerated pity. “Is that rhinestone crown from a dollar store? Oh, it looks incredibly cheap on you.” As she spoke, she unclasped a thin, dainty chain from her designer purse and held it out to me. “Here. A street vendor gave this to me earlier. It is too low class for me to wear, but maybe you want it? At least if you wear this, people won’t laugh at you for wearing fake plastic jewelry.” I stared at her in absolute silence. She tilted her head, maintaining her sickeningly sweet, innocent facade. “Violet, I know you are furious with me. But Oliver treats me so well. I really cannot help it.” “We will still be a family, right?” “Besides, Oliver told me he has to marry me first. You will just have to endure living in a separate apartment for a while…” Listening to her nauseating performance made my stomach violently churn. I reached out and slapped her hand away. The cheap necklace hit the concrete. Sophie let out a piercing shriek and dramatically collapsed to the ground. Her eyes widened in horror, and tears instantly spilled down her cheeks. “Violet… why did you push me?!” “Do you hate me that much? But… but I really didn’t mean to steal Oliver from you… I am just so sick, and he felt sorry for me… he just wanted to take care of me…” Her voice was soft, trembling, and laced with thick sobs, making her look like the ultimate victim. Oliver stormed forward, his face burning with rage, and shoved me hard in the chest. “Violet, that is enough!” “You know Sophie suffers from depression! Why would you purposefully trigger her and assault her?” He glared down at me, gritting his teeth. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear. When you enter my house, I will personally ensure your life is a living hell.” “A vicious woman like you only deserves to sleep in the servant quarters.” “You will eat whatever scraps the maids eat.” “If you dare show Sophie even an ounce of disrespect again, I will throw you out into the streets.” With a final sneer of disgust, he bent down and gently helped Sophie to her feet. His tone instantly shifted into sickening sweetness. “Don’t cry, Sophie. Let’s go home.” I stood on the pavement, watching Sophie peer over Oliver’s shoulder. She flashed me a triumphant, arrogant smirk. I looked down at the ground and let out a self deprecating laugh. My title as the eldest daughter of the Sinclair family was nothing but a hollow joke. Sophie’s depression only ever seemed to flare up when it was convenient for her. In front of Oliver and my parents, she was a fragile, dying flower that would crumble in the wind. But the moment we were alone, she was a completely different monster. If I bought myself a new dress, she would instantly snatch it out of my hands. “You gained weight, Violet. You can’t fit into this anymore. Let me wear it for you.” Whenever I complained to Oliver, he would scold me for being petty. “Sophie has clinical depression. Why are you always fighting with her over stupid things?” Piece by piece, everything I ever owned was stripped away and handed to her. A few days before the Blackwood wedding, I went to a high end boutique to buy myself a plush fox toy. I had never celebrated a birthday in that house. No one had ever bought me a gift. I figured buying a stuffed animal might bring me a fleeting moment of comfort. But the second I reached the counter, I saw Oliver and Sophie. A mountain of plush toys was piled up in front of them. As I approached, Oliver wrapped his arm around Sophie’s waist and glanced back at me. “Sorry. Sophie claimed all of these.” Sophie leaned softly against his chest. “Violet, did you want a plushie too?” She picked up a beautiful, fluffy bunny and tilted her head in mock innocence. “But… do cute things really suit you?” “You know what they say. Ugly people shouldn’t try to act cute.” “Do you really think holding a cute toy will magically make you lovable? It’s honestly kind of gross.” She blinked her large eyes as if a brilliant idea had just struck her. “If you really want one that badly, I guess I can spare one for you.” She dug through the clearance bin at the end of the counter and pulled out a dusty, hideous green toad plushie. She dangled it by one leg right in front of my face. “Here, Violet. This one is perfect for you. Look, it matches you perfectly. Bug eyes, bloated stomach… hahaha!” I had stared at her, feeling no anger, only a bone deep, freezing numbness. Without bothering to argue, I simply turned around and walked out of the store. Now, back in the present, I returned to the estate and collapsed exhaustedly onto the sofa. A maid rolled a massive cart into the living room. “Miss, the Blackwood family just sent over another gift.” It was a giant, waist high pink box wrapped in a silk ribbon. I opened the lid. Inside lay a massive, incredibly soft fox plushie. Its fur gleamed under the chandelier, soft and beautiful beyond words. Tied around its neck was an elegant, custom embroidered tag with a single word: Blackwood. I ran my fingertips gently through the soft fur. For the first time in years, a tiny spark of warmth flickered in my chest. Someone in this world was actually willing to give me exactly what I wanted. Who would have thought this Victor Blackwood actually had a romantic side?

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Three years into reconciling with Vernon Cumming, he cheated again. His mistress was the same woman from three years ago. When we ran into them at a restaurant, he lied and said she was a client. The next moment, he shielded his “client” behind him, watching me with defensiveness and wariness. I knew he was afraid I’d lose my temper again and hurt the woman he held dear. But I simply stepped forward, straightened his slightly crooked tie, and said gently, “Alright, I understand.” “Don’t get too drunk. Remember to use protection.” After saying that, I suddenly felt my admonitions were unnecessary, so I changed my mind. “Or don’t, it’s fine.” I considered myself gentle and considerate enough. But for some reason, Vernon’s face darkened anyway. 1. The restaurant was quiet. Even conversations were deliberately hushed. Only occasionally could one hear the faint clink of cutlery against plates. The decor was thoughtful, with roses being the only flowers visible. Of course, those dining here were lovers. Perhaps some were like Vernon. But both sides were discreet, playing the part of a loving couple. As if I hadn’t noticed Vernon’s darkening face, I gave the lady he was shielding a slight nod and turned to leave. My friend, walking with me, whispered, “Why aren’t you angry?” Angry? It seemed I genuinely wasn’t. Perhaps I had been before, but it hadn’t done any good. And I had paid a heavy price for it. Such a price, for the current me, was one I couldn’t afford a second time. I smiled calmly. “There’s nothing to be angry about. He’s just meeting a client.” My friend looked at me silently, her gaze complex. I knew what she was thinking. But I couldn’t tell her that this was the first lesson Vernon had taught me: To learn to turn a blind eye to his affairs. When dinner ended, Vernon was waiting for me in his car outside the restaurant. Seeing the long queue on the ride-hailing app, I didn’t refuse. I opened the back door and got in. Sure enough, the passenger seat was occupied. She turned, smiling at me with a reserved yet haughty air. “Excuse me, Mrs. Cumming, I get carsick.” “Vernon felt sorry for me, so he let me sit here. No other meaning, don’t misunderstand.” Vernon opened the car door, got into the driver’s seat, and explained casually, “It’s just a seat. If you mind, I’ll have Selena switch with you.” I nodded gently, still appearing kind and understanding. “It’s alright, I understand.” “I have motion sickness patches. Miss Quinn, would you like one? It might help you feel better.” Selena Quinn didn’t speak. Vernon also fell silent. The car instantly returned to quiet. Outside, it had started raining at some point, and it looked rather cold. My friend texted me, asking if I had gotten into a car, or if she should pick me up. I looked down to reply, not noticing Vernon gripping the steering wheel tightly. After a long moment, he finally started the car before the rain grew heavier. Selena spoke again. “Drop Mrs. Cumming off first. Her place is closer.” Hearing this, Vernon and I spoke almost simultaneously. “Okay.” “No need.” I paused, then understood Vernon’s intention and quickly interjected, “Indeed, it’s too late today, and raining heavily. It would be too much trouble to go back and forth.” “Why don’t you stay over? I just texted the housekeeper to prepare both the master bedroom and the guest room…” Before I could finish, Vernon suddenly slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched against the asphalt. My forehead hit the back of the passenger seat hard. Before I could even register the pain, I heard Vernon say in a low voice, “Get out!” I realized I had once again misread his mood, so I shut my mouth. Then I decisively took a folding umbrella from my bag, opened the car door, and got out. The rain was heavy, and the folding umbrella couldn’t cover me completely. I was soon drenched. Vernon drove past me, and the splash from the puddles soaked my pants. I looked down, and when I looked up again, even the exhaust fumes were gone. Finally, I had no choice but to sheepishly text my friend, asking her to pick me up. My friend appeared quickly. She looked at my soaked self, her eyes filled with frustration. “You deserve this!” I forced a smile. “Clara, thank you.” “I know you mean well, but I can’t. I can’t leave him.” It wasn’t that my emotions prevented me from leaving him. It was the harsh reality that forced me to stay. 2. I finished showering. When I emerged from the bathroom, Vernon was back. He sat on the sofa, head bowed, smoking—he had probably been at it for a while, as the living room was thick with smoke. My motion of wiping my hair paused. I suddenly felt this scene was a re-enactment of three years ago. That was the day before our first divorce. He chain-smoked, cigarette butts nearly filling the ashtray. Finally, shrouded in a haze of smoke, he handed me the divorce papers, his expression resolute and cold. I walked over somewhat stiffly, smiling as I gently removed the cigarette from his mouth. “Don’t smoke so much, it’s bad for your health.” Vernon looked up, his eyes holding a complex emotion I couldn’t decipher. I forced a smile, trying my best. “Don’t worry, I haven’t misunderstood anything about you and Selena.” “If you say she’s a client, then she’s a client.” “You already had plans with her. It was only right to have her in the passenger seat and drive her home. I was the unexpected one.” “Don’t worry, I won’t cause any trouble for her.” I was considerate and generous, thinking from Vernon’s perspective. But for some reason, Vernon still looked displeased. His lips were pressed into a tight line, his face incredibly grim. I grew anxious, almost panicking as I told him, “If you want to bring Miss Quinn back, I don’t mind.” “If she finds me annoying, I can move out…” “Enough!” Vernon suddenly spoke, his voice sharp, cutting off my words. He gripped my hand tightly, staring at me with bloodshot eyes. “Since you’re so gentle and considerate, why don’t you just give up the title of Mrs. Cumming?” I gritted my teeth, enduring the pain in my wrist, and looked at Vernon, asking, “Then will you stop my mother’s medication?” Vernon’s eyes suddenly widened. Receiving no answer, I pressed on, unwilling to give up. “If I give up this position, will you still continue to pay for my mother’s treatment?” “Vernon, I can give it up, as long as you keep paying for my mother’s medicine, okay?” Vernon’s pupils constricted, then he violently flung my hand away, standing up from the sofa with a dramatic movement. He stared intensely at me, scrutinizing every expression on my face. I wasn’t lying. It was all true. I could give up my place for Selena. Really. Vernon didn’t know what he saw on my face. He laughed to himself. “Still saying you haven’t misunderstood?” He walked over again, took my hand, and gently rubbed the spot he had just squeezed red. “Selena is my client. I’m not lying, truly.” “Elara, don’t be jealous. It’s annoying. You know I’m not in the mood to coax you.” I looked down at the spot he was rubbing, wanting to say I wasn’t jealous. But it seemed pointless. So I didn’t defend myself at all. I simply followed Vernon’s words and nodded gently. “Mm, I understand.” 3. From that day on, Vernon seemed like a changed man. He suddenly stopped going out, returning home early. In the mornings, he would have me see him off at the entryway. After he put on his shoes, he would turn back to kiss my forehead. In the evenings, he would bring me a bouquet of flowers—sometimes pansies, sometimes irises… Different every day. Then he would kiss the corner of my lips and tell me, “Today, I missed you very much.” Yet, the man who said he missed me spent his days shopping and going to spas with Selena. He pretended to be in love, and I pretended to be in love, asking no questions, saying nothing. Until Mrs. Cumming’s birthday. Vernon said he wanted to take me along to celebrate. I agreed. When he came to pick me up that evening, the passenger seat was already occupied. It was Selena. She smiled at me, completely unapologetic. “Excuse me, Mrs. Cumming, I get a little carsick.” Was this Vernon’s test for me? I smiled faintly, nodding gently, not caring. “It’s alright, carsickness is terrible. I understand.” With that, I opened the back door, about to get into the car, when Vernon got out. He opened the passenger door and looked at Selena. “Get out.” Selena’s face changed. She tried hard to force a smile. “Mr. Cumming, I…” Vernon leaned against the car door, his face cold. “Don’t make me drag you out myself.” Selena’s face grew even uglier. The atmosphere was tense. Just as I was about to speak to break the awkward silence, Vernon pulled Selena out. “Either sit in the back, or call a cab yourself.” He said this, not looking at Selena’s expression, but instead shielding me as I got into the passenger seat. I felt a little awkward, but I also knew this wasn’t the time to contradict Vernon. So, I said nothing. Selena didn’t call a cab; she got into the back seat. Once the car started, Vernon handed me a gift box, explaining simply, “It’s for my mother. Give it to her later.” I hummed softly. Before I could speak, Selena interjected, “It’s an emerald necklace. I went with Vernon to pick it out. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I felt the gift box, smiling faintly. “Yes, it’s very beautiful.” See? The man who said he missed me. His body was always with someone else. How could I possibly believe him? 4. Mrs. Cumming’s birthday wasn’t a grand affair, just a few family members. She really liked Selena, finding her articulate and endearing. I heard that when Vernon and I first divorced, she had actively tried to set him up with Selena. But Vernon hadn’t agreed. Perhaps he thought a secret affair was more exciting. Today was no different. Vernon bypassed me, reaching directly for Selena’s hand. “I’ve been waiting for you.” “You child, you rarely come to visit me. Without you, I don’t even have anyone to confide in here.” She took Selena’s hand, making her sit beside her. She didn’t spare me a glance the entire time. Accustomed to this, I calmly placed the gift on the table. “Vernon’s gift for you, chosen by Miss Quinn.” Mrs. Cumming, who hadn’t looked at me once, unexpectedly glanced my way. After a moment, she picked up the gift box, examined it, then had Selena put it on. “Your taste is so good.” “Unlike some people, not only do they have bad taste, they lack common sense.” “Such an eyesore.” If it were before, I would have certainly been unable to bear it and would have turned and left. However, I simply stood by, listening quietly, reacting like a dead person. Vernon frowned, suddenly feeling something was off. It seemed that ever since that incident at the restaurant where Elara ran into him and Selena, she had been like this. Overly calm. Or rather… indifferent. For the first time. Vernon got drunk in his own home. For some reason, Elara remained in his mind: standing to the side, head down, silent, seemingly indifferent to everything. Was she truly… indifferent? Vernon drank even more. Unable to return home, he had to stay overnight at the ancestral estate. Selena also stayed overnight. In the room next to Vernon and mine. A deliberate arrangement. I understood Mrs. Cumming’s intention. So, when Vernon, fueled by alcohol, pressed me down that night, trying to kiss me, I pushed him away. I straightened his lapel, smiling faintly. “Wait a moment.” Then I went out and called Selena over. Under Selena’s shocked gaze, I closed the door on her and Vernon. Afterward, I drove away from the Cumming ancestral estate. Ten minutes later, I received a call from Vernon. He suppressed his voice and asked me, “What do you mean by this?” I looked at the road illuminated by the car headlights and said softly, “Last time when you were drunk and held me, you called out Miss Quinn’s name all night.” “I thought this time would be the same.” Vernon roared into the phone, “I didn’t call her name this time!” My voice remained soft. “Hmm, I know.” “But what if you did call her name midway? I was thinking of you.” The call ended. He never called again.

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After my best friend passed away in a tragic accident, I took in his younger sister, Kate. Everyone knew she meant more to me than my own life. To raise her and give her a stable home, I even stayed unmarried for years. On her eighteenth birthday, Kate stood before me and delivered a deeply emotional, tearful confession of love. My eyes welled up with tears of overwhelming joy. But the moment I reached out to accept the bouquet of roses from her hands, over a dozen writhing snakes slithered out from the petals. The crowd erupted into roaring laughter. Her college senior stepped up, wrapping an arm around Kate’s waist with a smug grin. “Sorry about that, David. Kate only did it to make me laugh.” Kate looked at me, her eyes dripping with pure disgust. “Did you really think raising me for a few years gave you the right to demand my body in return? You are incredibly pathetic.” My heart turned to ash in my chest. Without a word, I turned my back on her and married the girl next door who had been secretly in love with me for years.

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Beauty invites jealousy, doesn’t it? As the undisputed queen of the entertainment industry, the highest peak and the longest river of trending topics, I could post a selfie, and the comments would casually break a hundred million. Topping the trending list was a daily affair. People would either call me a pure pretty face, or blast me for sensationalizing trivial matters just for attention. I don’t care! The most crucial thing to dominate this industry wasn’t my acting skills or talent, but my devastatingly beautiful face. While the entertainment world never lacked stunning women, there’s a difference between a pretty swan and a gorgeous swan. Even if my acting was a train wreck, my singing off-key, my dancing a stumble, my professional skills abysmal, and my emotional intelligence nonexistent, audiences just ate up my face! 1 My social media backend crashed again. My assistant, Liam, called, his voice on the verge of tears: “Aurora! You have to see the trending topics!” “Selene Blackwood just shaded you in an interview!” I was examining my freshly manicured nails in the vanity mirror. At his words, I simply hummed lazily. Oh, a rival trying to stir up trouble? Just another Tuesday. Beauty invites envy, always. “She said, ‘An soulless facade won’t get you far’!” “Now her fans and ours are tearing each each other apart online!” “The PR department’s phones are ringing off the hook, they say this is a tough one. They’re asking how we want to respond.” On the other end of the line, Liam was frantic, like a cat on a hot tin roof. I held my hand up to the light, admiring the sparkle of the shattered diamonds on my nails, and asked casually, “Those photos I shot yesterday, are they retouched yet?” “Aurora! What time is it?!” Liam sounded like he was losing his mind. “Selene just won a Golden Trinity Award, she’s absolutely red-hot right now, what she says carries weight!” “The entire internet is mocking us as a pretty face, saying you have nothing but your looks!” “Oh,” I finally showed some interest, lowering my hand. I opened my phone’s front camera, tilting it left and right to find the best angle. “Isn’t that perfect?” “The more they curse, the more it shows how much they care about this face.” Online, Selene Blackwood’s fans cited literary references, elevating her to an artist untainted by worldly desires. My fans, on the other hand, were simple and direct. They flooded the internet with iconic images of me from past red carpets, captioned: “Beauty is enough. Does your idol have this face?” A war between “talent and looks” raged across the internet, turning it upside down. Selene’s team was clearly pleased with the outcome, seizing the opportunity to buy up a flurry of marketing accounts, pushing the hashtag “#Actor’sConviction” to the top of the trending list, attempting to nail me to a pillar of shame. Liam reported over the phone: “Aurora, they’ve jumped into the fray again. The public opinion is really against us right now.” “Should we release a statement, just saying…?” “No need,” I cut him off, having already selected nine perfect selfies. “Post this set of pictures. The caption should read: ‘Today’s face, also looking pretty good.’” “Huh? That’s it?” “That’s it.” Minutes later, “#AuroraSterlingNineGrid” descended, obliterating everything in its path, directly snatching the number one trending spot. The server, predictably, crashed again for ten minutes. By the time the tech team restored it, seven of the top ten trending spots bore my name. #AuroraSterlingDivineBeauty #GoddessCreationAuroraSterling #SawAuroraSterlingNowIWantFaceSurgery As for Selene Blackwood’s “#Actor’sConviction,” it had long been pushed beyond the twentieth spot, utterly ignored. Liam’s call came in again, this time his voice filled with glee and adoration: “Aurora! Selene’s PR director reportedly threw their phone in rage!” I chuckled softly, turned off my phone, and picked up the mirror again. Dear Selene, in this industry, being beautiful truly allows you to do whatever you want. Especially when you’re a dazzling, unbelievably gorgeous woman like me. PR? Not needed! After all, there’s a persistent rumor in the industry: people watching me act only want to poke out their own eyes. But then they remember that if they blind themselves, they’ll never see my face again. And thinking, ’Oh, what a waste,’ they give up. 2 It was an unfortunate coincidence: Selene and I ended up in the same production, an annual S-tier blockbuster titled Chronicles of Grandeur. She was the leading lady, and I was the confirmed second female lead. At the launch ceremony, her team’s press release listed her name followed by a long string of acting awards. My name was followed by only four words: “Queen of Trends.” On the first day of shooting our scenes, she flubbed her lines seventeen times. When the director asked what was wrong, she rubbed her temples, looking at me with an agonizing expression. “Director, facing Miss Sterling’s face, I simply can’t get into character.” The entire set went silent. Her reason was that my face was too “modern,” my features too perfectly sculpted, like a soulless piece of art. It disrupted the period authenticity and sense of vulnerability the film required. As she spoke, her gaze was cool and detached, as if discussing some profound artistic dilemma. Over the next few days, this became her routine. Whenever she had a scene with me, she would endlessly flub her lines. Either she’d get distracted by my face while delivering dialogue, or she’d suddenly call for a halt mid-scene, claiming my beauty made her “break character.” While my mouth uttered, “Oh, but I’m not that pretty~” In my heart, I was cursing this pretentious woman, knowing she was deliberately making things difficult for me. After the production schedule was severely delayed, the producer and director’s expressions finally changed. Their gazes towards me held displeasure, only to soften once they landed on my face. Liam stomped his foot in frustration. “Aurora, she’s doing this on purpose!” “What actor complains their co-star is too pretty? She’s using this to get back at you!” I was reading my script, not even looking up. “Let her play her part.” Liam was puzzled. “Play what?” “Play a dedicated award-winning actress pursuing art, whose progress is hindered by a pretty face.” Sure enough, a few days later, various on-set sneak peeks surfaced online. The topic #SeleneBlackwoodDedicated trended, and marketing accounts gushed about her pursuit of artistic perfection, even at the cost of offending a trending star backed by capital. And I, naturally, became the “villain” who “weaponized her beauty,” “lacked any acting skill, dragging down the entire crew.” Eventually, the director called me for a talk. The meeting was held in Selene’s luxury van. She and her junior colleague, fresh out of film school, were also present. The director rubbed his hands, looking troubled. “Aurora, you see… Selene’s really not in her best state.” “For the artistic integrity of the entire film, we’ve discussed it…” Selene leisurely sipped her pour-over coffee beside him, not even raising an eyelid. I looked at the director, waiting for him to continue. “The second female lead role we offered you might have to be changed.” “We’d like Selene’s junior to try it out. They’re from the same school, so they might have better chemistry.” Liam was about to explode on the spot, but my gaze held him back. Of course, I knew this was aimed at me. I subtly glanced at the junior colleague’s face. She was pretty, the sweet, girl-next-door type. Most importantly… she didn’t seem to overshadow Selene. Instead, she subtly enhanced Selene’s sophisticated, classic actress aura. I put aside my thoughts and asked calmly, “What about me?” “The production team still hopes you can stay,” the director’s posture became even more deferential. “There’s a maid role in the script. Although the screen time isn’t much, it has some great moments.” “There’s even a pivotal scene where the lead actress slaps her, which demands significant emotional outburst…” The humiliation was now laid bare. Everyone watched me, waiting for me to explode, waiting for me to break my contract and walk away. Then they could legitimately label me a “diva.” Selene finally put down her coffee cup, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips. I ignored her, simply saying calmly to the director, “Alright, I’ll take it.” The air in the car seemed to solidify in that instant. The director was stunned, and the junior colleague’s expression froze. Even Selene’s triumphant face showed a faint crack. The day the slapping scene was filmed, the entire crew was present. They weren’t there to watch a scene; they were there to watch me. The director called action. Selene’s palm swung out, no cheating, no trickery – it was a solid impact of skin against skin. Crisp, loud, and stinging hot. “Cut!” The director’s voice held a hint of hesitation. “Selene, the emotion is good, but… you can dial back the force a little.” Selene rubbed her wrist, looking at me with an innocent expression. “Director, for the sake of realism, the immediate reaction to being hit can’t be faked.” “Miss Sterling, what do you say?” She threw the question to me. All eyes on set focused on my face, waiting for my reaction. My assistant, Liam, clenched his fists, his eyes red. I raised a hand, signaling him not to move. I smiled at the director. “Selene is right. For the sake of the scene, it’s fine. Let’s do it again.” And so, there was a second take, a third, a fourth… Each time, Selene demanded a retake, citing “insufficient emotion” or “not real enough reaction.” And each time, her slap was harder than the last. By the eighth take, I could even taste the metallic tang of blood welling up at the corner of my mouth. My left cheek was numb, swollen high like I had a hot bun stuffed in it. “Print!” The director finally called a stop. Liam immediately rushed over, holding an ice pack to my face, his voice choked with tears. “Aurora, they’re going too far!” I stopped him, calmly telling the makeup artist nearby, “Please touch up my makeup, cover the bloodstain at the corner of my mouth.” Then I turned to the director, still looking unperturbed. “Director, is the effect satisfactory?” The director looked at my swollen face, his gaze complex, and finally just nodded. The incident quickly spread. The internet was flooded with press releases touting Selene Blackwood’s professionalism, claiming she was willing to offend others for artistic authenticity. And I became the useless actress who couldn’t even convincingly take a slap, my public image plummeting. My team was in a frenzy, but I had no time for it. Because the endorsement deal with the international luxury brand V&L was in its final stages of contract signing. This was my best weapon for a comeback. Once announced, it would prove that my commercial value was unshakable. But the night before the signing, Liam burst into my room, his face white. “Aurora, V&L just announced… the endorser isn’t us.” My hand, which was removing my makeup, paused. “It’s Selene Blackwood,” Liam’s voice trembled. “I found out she personally flew her team to V&L headquarters yesterday.” “She told the brand that she was willing to sign a five-year, no-pay, ironclad contract.” A Golden Trinity Award winner, lowering her status to earn nothing. No brand could refuse such a temptation. She wasn’t doing it for the money, nor for the endorsement itself. She was doing it simply to snatch it away from me. Suddenly, the entire internet erupted in celebration. “Hahaha, a pretty face is still just a pretty face. Her commercial value is crushed by a true talent.” “Even her sugar daddy has abandoned her. Looks like Aurora Sterling is really finished.” “She used to be able to live off her looks, but now her face is swollen, and her rice bowl is gone too.” The hashtag #PrettyFaceShattered surged to number one on trending topics within an hour. Liam, looking at the cruel comments on his phone, fretted. “Aurora, what do we do now? The PR department’s phones are being blown up!” I looked at my swollen face in the mirror, clearly showing five finger marks. My phone screen lit up with a news notification. “Star-studded! Nominations for the Annual Entertainment Gala announced.” I tapped it open. In the list of nominees for “Artist of the Year with the Most Commercial Value,” I saw two names listed side-by-side: Aurora Sterling, Selene Blackwood. The Annual Entertainment Gala. Selene and I met face to face. We were both nominated for the “Artist of the Year with the Most Commercial Value” award. The cameras at the event were very cooperative, switching back and forth between our faces. Selene sat poker straight, chin slightly raised, a faint, confident smile playing on her lips. She had just won an international film festival award, and then snatched the global endorsement for V&L from me. She was at the peak of her popularity. The entire venue, no, the entire internet, assumed the award was already hers. When the camera cut to me, I was looking down, adjusting the hem of my dress, not giving it any extra expression. But the other artists around me looked at me with a mix of pity and schadenfreude. A mere pretty face, whose face had been slapped raw, and whose livelihood had been stolen. Now, to be dragged onto the stage for public humiliation, it truly was the joke of the year. The presenter was a highly respected veteran of the industry. He slowly opened the envelope, deliberately drawing out his words, building up the suspense. “The winner of this year’s Artist of the Year with the Most Commercial Value is…” All the spotlights instantly converged on Selene. She was already preparing to stand, the draft of her acceptance speech written clearly on her face.

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I’m a zen Capybara, but I’ve transmigrated into the body of a tragic wife and inherited all her overwhelming emotions. My husband dotes on his childhood sweetheart, and even our son desperately wants her to be his mother. Perfect. I don’t want to do anything anyway. Late one night, when my husband received a call from her and tried to sneak out, I covered my subtly aching heart and offered him his jacket. 1 Kim’s hushed phone conversation woke me. He deliberately kept his voice low as he got up, soothing his childhood sweetheart on the other end. He quickly dressed, grabbed his car keys, and was about to rush out. “Wait.” Hearing my voice, his expression immediately shifted. “Liliana is home alone right now, and the power’s out. I…” “Put your jacket on before you go. It’s getting cold.” His impatient look morphed into shock, and he stared at me in disbelief for a moment. But I simply turned over sluggishly, absently rubbing my heart, which had been aching for a while. Seeing that I wasn’t crying or making a scene as usual, Kim walked over and kissed my forehead. “Don’t throw a tantrum. I’ll be back soon.” I nodded, feeling nothing in particular, though the pain in my chest intensified. I heard the door click shut, then lazily got up and took a painkiller. It still didn’t do much, but at least it offered some psychological comfort. I’d been in this world for over two months since the original owner’s suicide. Kim was always like this, and I couldn’t be bothered to get angry. Anger, for a Capybara, is a hassle. This was especially true because I still inherited all of the original owner’s emotions. Especially when I woke up early to make breakfast for Oscar. He complained my cooking was terrible, frowning as he tossed all the food he disliked into the trash. “Mom, I’ve told you so many times, I want a Western breakfast. Why does Aunt Liliana always remember, but you never do?” The disdain on his face was obvious. I should have been angry. But I just calmly sipped my fish porridge. “Then go eat with her.” Oscar, who had been full of complaints moments before, choked on his unspoken words. My well-meaning suggestion sounded like viciousness to him. He immediately burst into tears, sweeping his bowl and chopsticks off the table. “Bad Mom! You’re a bad Mom! Why did Dad marry you, you bad woman? I want Aunt Liliana to be my Mom!” His wailing echoed shrilly in the empty villa. I calmly drank my porridge, silently turning away. Capybaras don’t comfort people; not interfering is my ultimate boundary. Seeing I wasn’t reacting, Oscar cried louder, sweeping all the remaining dishes off the table. Children know best how to hurt. He cried, yelling that no wonder Dad liked Aunt Liliana and not me. I ignored him, though the pain in my chest was unbearable. I gently put down my bowl and sat on the sofa, watching the news. This was one of my main ways of getting information about this world; smartphones were too complicated. I’d only learned the very basics of messaging in two months. The TV was simpler. “What are you doing?” 2 When Kim walked in, he saw the mess on the dining table. Oscar, as if finally finding his protector, scurried over to Kim, tattling on my alleged misdeeds that morning. Kim, who hadn’t been home all night, picked him up and stormed over to me. “It was just a joke from your son, do you have to be so unreasonable? He’s so young, what if he hurts his throat crying? Willow Grey, if you can’t even handle such a small matter, then don’t bother taking care of our son.” I nodded softly, slightly tilting my head to continue watching TV. “What’s that supposed to mean? Don’t think pretending to be mute will work. If this happens again, I won’t hesitate to let Liliana move in with us.” “Okay.” Kim, who was still fuming, suddenly got even angrier. He nodded repeatedly. “Fine, you said it. Don’t you dare regret it.” Perhaps afraid I’d change my mind, he promptly made a phone call. As he was on the phone, the TV happened to be reporting on last night’s amusement park fireworks display. “Last night, our city’s largest amusement park was rented out by Thorne Industries CEO, Kim Thorne, who ignited all the stored fireworks at once to delight his girlfriend. The two were seen embracing passionately, a truly enviable sight.” Though the TV only showed two embracing backs, they still looked incredibly well-matched. Kim’s jacket was still on Liliana. He turned around at that moment, and the jacket he was wearing suddenly became a glaring symbol. Seemingly awkward, he nervously adjusted the glasses on his nose. “Let me explain, it’s not what you think, last night was just…” My face paled, and I urgently stood up from the sofa. “No need to explain. I believe you.” I tried my best to keep my voice flat, then hurried towards the bedroom. Kim, however, relentlessly followed me. “Willow Grey, what exactly are you making a fuss about? Liliana is just my sister, it’s only right for me to do these things for her. Can’t you stop believing what the TV says?” But with every word he spoke, my heart ached a little more. Standing on the stairs, I simply fainted from the pain. In a haze, I seemed to hear Kim’s condescending voice behind me. “Don’t think pretending to faint works on me. Get up now!” “Just keep pretending. Let’s see how long you can keep it up.” Before losing consciousness completely, I only heard a door closing. Kim truly didn’t bother with me. I quietly condemned his irresponsibility in my heart, still unable to understand why the original owner fell in love with such a person. But every time I wanted to suggest divorce, an unyielding obsession prevented me from speaking those words. When I woke from unconsciousness, the house was empty. But for some reason, I suddenly felt a sense of relief. I knew this state was very wrong. So I booked an appointment with a psychologist online to check if there was something wrong with this body. “Your condition is provisionally diagnosed as Emotional Syndrome, and it’s quite severe. Given your situation, we recommend you first try to redirect your emotions. All feelings can become a focus, but a person absolutely cannot be a mental crutch. If that truly doesn’t work, then we’ll have to consider MECT (electroconvulsive therapy).” On the way home from the hospital, the doctor’s words echoed in my ears. Pushing open the front door, I heard laughter from inside. 3 Liliana’s luggage was still in the living room, but she was already sitting on the sofa, sharing a cake with Kim and Oscar. Kim fed Liliana a piece of cake, and Oscar chuckled, saying Dad was playing favorites. They looked like a picture-perfect family of three. Until I walked in. Their smiles instantly vanished. Oscar snorted and turned his head away, and Kim’s expression also soured. “What? Not pretending to faint anymore?” I nodded calmly, my mood still peaceful. My chest didn’t ache, which even surprised me. I ignored them and walked straight towards the bedroom. The sound of a suitcase being dragged followed me. “Willow.” I turned around. Liliana looked at me, her cheeks slightly flushed with shyness. “Willow, I just toured the house, and I really love your and Kim’s room. Can you let me have it?” At her words, even the father and son standing nearby stared at me. Their eyes seemed to say that if I caused any trouble, they would immediately jump out and accuse me. But… throwing a tantrum was inherently difficult for me. “Okay. It’s yours.” Liliana’s face broke into a clear, challenging smile. “Thank you, Willow. I knew you wouldn’t mind. Could you help me pack up? My self-care skills are a bit weak; Kim always says you’re very good at housework. Thank you, Willow.” The naked sarcasm in her words still felt offensive. I calmly took her suitcase. And kicked it all the way down the stairs. Her smile hadn’t even faded when she heard the sound of the suitcase crashing to the floor. “Willow Grey, what are you doing?!” Kim rushed over immediately, accusing me. “If you didn’t want to, you should have just said so. Why kick Liliana’s suitcase?” Seeing Kim defending her, Liliana’s eyes instantly reddened. “Kim, I don’t want to make a big deal out of this, but the porcelain inside this suitcase is a year’s worth of my work, I…” She opened the suitcase, and as expected, the porcelain was shattered. Kim couldn’t stand to see his beloved cry, so he quickly pulled her into his arms, comforting her. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ll make her apologize to you. I’ll make her pay for this porcelain.” A simple ceramic jar wouldn’t be worth much. But Kim grabbed my hand. “Willow Grey, apologize.” Suppressing the glee in my chest, I shook my head. “Don’t make me say it a second time. Apologize!” “Miss Grey, if you’re angry at me, that’s fine, but please don’t wantonly destroy my work, I…” She trailed off, a mist forming in her eyes again, making her look utterly pitiful. “No apology. You deserved it.” I simply stated that she deserved it. Who in their right mind packs porcelain, not clothes, in a moving suitcase? “Willow Grey! If you don’t apologize now, we’re getting divorced today, and you can get out of this house right now!” I originally thought I would be very sad. Unexpectedly, my chest continued to beat steadily. “Okay.” I pulled my hand free and quickly went to the room to pack my luggage. “If you leave, don’t ever come back.” I nodded. As I passed Liliana, I took off my wedding ring and placed it beside her. “This is to compensate for your porcelain.” Seeing me take off my wedding ring, Kim finally panicked. “Willow Grey, what is the meaning of this?”

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On the day of the divorce, my husband Cedric gave me an old, run-down little house and told me to get lost. He said, “You haven’t worked a single day since we got married. Giving you this house is already more than generous.” But he forgot—it was his idea for me to quit my job and be a stay-at-home wife in the first place. After marriage, all the household chores fell on me. Since his father Anderson got seriously ill, I’d been the one taking care of him. Now, for the sake of his first love Alice, he wanted a divorce. But I calmly took the property deed without shedding a single tear and signed readily. “Deal.” He was stunned and scrutinized me. “Wesley, you better not try anything funny.” I smiled. He had no idea that a real estate developer had contacted me last week—this run-down house was about to be demolished for redevelopment, and they’d offered compensation of up to ten million dollars. What he knew even less was that I’d just received a report confirming I was the only person in the world with the same blood type as his critically ill father.

I put away the divorce agreement and property deed and stood up. Alice clung intimately to his arm and said in a saccharine voice, “Wesley, please don’t blame me for speaking out of turn. These past few years you’ve been at home living off Cedric. It’s only because Cedric is kind-hearted that he’s willing to give you a house at all—otherwise you’d be out on the streets.” I ignored her and looked at Cedric. “Is that what you think too?” Cedric looked completely at ease. “Is Alice wrong? You’ve been enjoying an easy life at home every day while having no idea how exhausted I am at the company.” Looking at him, I felt nothing but bitter irony. These past three years, living in this so-called wealthy family mansion, I’d been treated like a high-class housekeeper. My father-in-law Anderson had serious patriarchal attitudes. Because my first child was a daughter, he’d never given me a single kind look. My mother-in-law Judith was a status-obsessed snob who looked down on my ordinary background and resented that I was no help to Cedric’s career. As for my husband Cedric, at first I thought I’d found a good man. He said I made him feel the warmth of home. He said I only needed to take care of the household for him, and I didn’t need to worry about anything else. I agreed. Outsiders all thought I was living the good life. Only I knew he gave me just ten thousand a month to cover all household shopping and social obligations—even the housekeeper’s wages had to come out of that. Meanwhile, he could turn around and buy his first love Alice a boutique studio in the city center. After our daughter Betty was born, they got even worse. Using the excuse that girls were delicate, they forbade me from taking the child to visit my parents, yet never bothered to help care for her themselves. “Oh, by the way,” Alice smiled maliciously at me, “Wesley, you absolutely must keep Betty under control. Don’t use Betty’s issues to bother Cedric.” She placed a hand on her belly. “After all, I’m carrying Cedric’s family’s eldest grandson. I’m afraid the family might not have enough attention to spare afterward.” So that’s why they were in such a rush to divorce me. I suppressed my emotions and responded calmly, “Don’t worry. Once I walk out this door, my daughter and I will have nothing more to do with Cedric.” I turned and left without looking back at their reactions. The demolition household communication notice with its bright red stamp in my bag was all the confidence I needed right now. Taking my daughter with this fortune about to land in my hands, completely rid of this family of horrible people—it was like winning life’s biggest lottery. The taxi stopped with my daughter and me in a narrow alley. I got out and looked at the dilapidated two-story building before me. This was the wedding gift my parents had scraped together everything to prepare for me when I married Cedric. They feared I’d be mistreated at my in-laws’ and wanted me to at least have a way out. At the time, to give me face in Cedric’s family, both our names were on the property deed. Now, it had returned to my hands. I took out the key and opened the rust-covered door. Betty asked in her sweet little voice, “Mommy, aren’t we going back to Daddy’s house anymore?” Holding her small body, my heart ached. “That’s right. From now on, we’ll have our own home.” The next day, I took all my documents to the real estate company. After verifying my information, the staff warmly received me. “Ms. Wesley, your property’s size and location are both excellent. According to current compensation policy, you can receive around ten million dollars.” I chose the latter without hesitation. “I want the money.” That afternoon after signing, I took Betty for her favorite strawberry cake. Watching Betty’s happy face covered in cream, I felt more at peace than ever before. Thank you for your charity, Cedric. You used a run-down house you looked down on to buy out our three-year marriage. And I used the key you handed me to open the door to a new world.

Cedric probably assumed I’d take that broken-down house and come crawling back home in tears, or return begging him when I had nowhere else to turn. So when his assistant told him that house had already completed demolition procedures, he froze for a moment. “Lucky for her.” Cedric’s brow furrowed tightly. This was completely different from the script he’d envisioned. The feeling of things spiraling out of his control made him very uncomfortable. Just then, his first love Alice pushed the door open, carrying a bowl of elegant bird’s nest soup. “Cedric, still busy? I made you bird’s nest soup—drink it while it’s hot. You haven’t rested properly these past few days dealing with your father’s situation.” She spoke gently and considerately, naturally nestling beside him. Cedric smelled her expensive perfume, but the irritation in his heart didn’t dissipate—it only grew stronger. His mind involuntarily flashed to images of Wesley. She always carried a faint scent of soap. She never disturbed him while he worked, always quietly placing warmed soup by his side before silently leaving. “What are you thinking about?” Alice playfully pushed him. “Nothing.” Cedric collected his thoughts and accepted the bird’s nest soup. “Alice, about my father—has the hospital found suitable bone marrow?” At this mention, Alice’s expression grew heavy too. “Not yet… The hospital says the blood type is too rare. On top of that, finding suitable bone marrow with a successful match probability is almost negligible. The doctor told us to prepare ourselves mentally.” Cedric’s heart sank bit by bit. Anderson was the anchor of Cedric’s family. Once he fell, those circling vultures in the corporation would definitely seize the opportunity to strike. His position as heir wasn’t secure at all. “Cedric, don’t worry.” Alice grasped his hand. “I’ve already mobilized all my connections to search. There will be a way.” Cedric looked at her and forced out a smile. He didn’t know that his only real solution had already been pushed away by his own hands. Meanwhile, after receiving the first demolition payment, I immediately rented a large flat in a quiet neighborhood downtown. Next, I used this money to take over a ceramics studio near the west side of the city that was on the verge of closing. In college, I’d studied sculpture. Opening my own ceramics studio was a dream I’d shelved for years. I renovated the shop, added new pottery wheels and kilns, using half the space to sell pottery I made myself and the other half for pottery experiences. I registered a social media account and shared daily pottery-making content and cute moments with Betty. No sob stories, no complaints—just love for life. The warm tones and healing content quickly attracted my first batch of followers. Late at night, I’d sit by the window watching the city lights in the distance. I no longer had to watch anyone’s face, no longer had to hear those harsh comments about bearing sons, no longer had to face a husband who never came home. This freedom made me feel richer than that twelve million dollars.

Alice’s path to integrating into Cedric’s family was proving exceptionally difficult. She thought driving me out as the legitimate wife would let her smoothly take my place, but she underestimated Judith’s fighting power. That day, she accompanied Judith to the hospital to visit Anderson. In the doctor’s office, the attending physician gravely informed them, “Mr. Anderson’s condition isn’t good. We’ve tested samples from all direct and collateral relatives—not one matches. The bone marrow bank has also reported that there are currently no suitable donors.” Judith’s body swayed, nearly unable to stand. Alice quickly supported her and asked urgently, “Doctor, is there really no other option?” The doctor sighed. “No. Currently we can only gradually expand the search starting from people he’s had contact with. Though the hope is slim, it’s the only hope.” Leaving the hospital, Judith’s expression remained terrible. Alice tried to comfort her, saying carefully, “Don’t worry too much. Cedric has already brought in expert teams from abroad. I’m sure…” “What do you know!” Judith suddenly cut her off sharply, her gaze cutting like knives. “Besides spending Cedric’s money, what can you do? I must have been blind to think you were better than Wesley!” Alice’s smile froze on her face. Judith seemed to have opened a floodgate and began criticizing indiscriminately: “Wesley may have come from a poor background and wasn’t good with words, but at least she knew how to take care of people! Look at you—you don’t even know to pour a glass of hot water! Before Anderson got sick, Wesley personally prepared all those medicinal meals for him every day. And you? You just buy flashy, useless things!” These words woke Alice up. She finally understood that in the eyes of people like Judith, there was no such thing as true love—only utility value. When she couldn’t provide practical help, she wasn’t even as good as me. That night, Alice and Cedric had a huge fight. “Cedric! How did your mother treat me today! She actually compared me to Wesley! Didn’t you say that as long as I came back, you’d make her accept me?” Cedric was already overwhelmed by company and hospital matters. Hearing Alice’s tearful complaints now only made him feel irritated. “My mother is just anxious about my father’s illness. Can’t you be understanding?” “Understanding? How am I supposed to understand? Every word out of her mouth was praising Wesley! Are you regretting this too? Do you also think Wesley is better than me?” “Can you stop being so unreasonable!” Cedric slammed the door and left, not turning back to comfort her for the first time. He drove aimlessly through the streets. Almost as if possessed, he opened my social media account. He’d had his assistant go through some trouble to find it. On the screen was my latest video. In the video, I wore a simple cotton apron, sitting at a pottery wheel with my hands covered in clay, focused on shaping the beginnings of a vase. Sunlight streamed in from the window, my profile soft, my gaze calm and bright. Betty sat on a small stool nearby, also clumsily kneading a lump of clay, humming an off-key tune. The comments section was peaceful. “The shop owner is so gentle!” “This is what life should be like!” “The daughter is so cute. The blogger seems really happy now.” The word “happy” stabbed painfully at Cedric’s eyes. In his memory, I always had a hint of sadness and humility in my expression that wouldn’t dissipate. But this woman in the video was composed, confident, radiant. This huge contrast stirred an unprecedented sense of loss and panic in him. He irritably closed his phone and called his assistant. “How’s the hospital screening going? Has everyone been notified?” “Almost everyone, but… there’s one person we haven’t been able to reach.” “Who?” “Your ex-wife, Ms. Wesley. She’s changed all her contact information and hasn’t responded to private messages on social media.” “Useless!” Cedric roared and hung up, punching the steering wheel. The horn let out a piercing long blare, like mockery of his current state of mind. He didn’t know why he was so angry. He was the one who initiated the divorce. So why, when she truly disappeared without a trace, did his heart feel so panicked?

The turning point appeared in a place no one expected. At the blood bank center conducting bone marrow screening for Anderson, an elderly professor about to retire happened to see my name while doing final file archiving. Wesley—the name seemed familiar to him. He pulled up my blood donation records from years ago and my registration with the bone marrow registry. When he saw my blood type report, his eyes behind reading glasses widened instantly. “Quick! Pull up Mr. Anderson’s matching data immediately!” he shouted excitedly to his assistant. The two sets of data were placed side by side. The loci—a complete match. A miracle with odds of one in hundreds of millions had just occurred. The news reached Cedric’s ears immediately. After a brief moment of wild joy, he immediately fell into even deeper panic. Wesley, the ex-wife he’d dismissed with a broken-down house, was actually the only hope for saving his father. He immediately mobilized all his resources, even hiring a private investigator at great expense, searching frantically for my whereabouts. Two days later, the investigator placed a stack of photos and documents on his office desk. The photos showed my little shop, me playing on a swing with Betty in the yard, me shopping and eating ice cream with my best friend. In every photo, I smiled so happily, so relaxed. Cedric grabbed his car keys and practically tumbled out of the office. He sped all the way, running several red lights, finally parking on that quiet street corner half an hour later. He saw my shop. Through the glass window, he saw me sitting inside, head lowered, patiently teaching a young woman how to throw pottery. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Wind chimes rang out crisply. I looked up. The moment I saw him, I wasn’t surprised. I knew he’d find his way here eventually. The smile on my face didn’t even change. I just said to the young woman, “Feel it out on your own for now. I’ll be right back.” Then I wiped my hands and walked toward him, as if approaching an ordinary customer. “Sir, how may I help you?” My voice was calm and flat. Cedric looked at this face so close yet utterly unfamiliar, his throat tight. He spoke with difficulty, his voice hoarse. “Wesley, let’s talk.” “Sure.” I pointed to the small stone table in the yard. “Let’s talk here. I’m busy in the shop.” We sat across from each other. He looked at me with complex emotions in his eyes. He pulled a document from his suit pocket and pushed it in front of me. “Wesley, I know you hate me. But this time, I’m begging you. As long as you’re willing to donate bone marrow to save my father, I’ll agree to any condition. This is an asset transfer agreement. My large flat in the city center, plus twenty million in cash from my personal account—it’s all yours.” He thought this was the greatest sincerity he could offer. I didn’t even glance at the document. I simply picked up my teacup, blew on the steam, then raised my eyes to look at him calmly. “Cedric, did you forget? We’re already divorced.” “According to the law, we’re strangers now.” “What makes you think a stranger has any obligation to undergo a risky major surgery for your father?” My words drained all color from his face instantly.

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