Category: English

In the fifth year of my banishment to a lawless, off-the-grid compound deep in the backwoods, my brother finally showed some mercy and came to pick me up. He arrived in a private helicopter, stepping out in immaculate designer clothes alongside the “real” sister of the family. He stood before me, looking at my withered, hollowed-out face. To make this so-called “welcome” a spectacle, Maya even invited people who used to be my friends. Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, she gasped dramatically. “Sister, what happened to you?” she asked, her voice dripping with venomous intent. “Is this what happens when you miscarry over thirty babies?” Disgust and mockery flashed in the eyes of the onlookers. I slowly raised my eyes and stared at her, my gaze as cold as ice. Maya instinctively went quiet, shrinking behind my brother’s back and whining, “Arthur, she’s looking at me so meanly.” Only then did the man, who had been frowning in silence this entire time, finally speak. “Do you know what you did wrong now?” I nodded. Of course I knew. Being kind was my mistake. Loving him with all my heart and soul was my gravest mistake. A complex emotion flashed through his eyes, instantly replaced by a look of grim satisfaction. “It seems these five years have been effective. You’ve learned your place.” I forced the corners of my mouth to twitch upward. I wouldn’t scream or throw a hysterical fit anymore. And I certainly wouldn’t beg for his love ever again. The moment I stepped onto the helicopter, a sharp beep echoed in my mind, followed by a mechanical voice. [Host has successfully survived twenty-five years in the body-swap mission. Mission complete. Soul extraction will commence in three days. Reward: $100 Million USD.] I lowered my eyes, clenching my twisted, deformed fingers, and smiled. …… Sitting across from me, Arthur stared intently. He caught the fleeting smile on my lips. His tone was freezing cold. “When we get back, as long as you behave and don’t try to hurt Maya, I won’t send you back to this place.” “And I promise to keep the… punishments you endured here a secret from high society.” I finally lifted my head, taking a long, careful look at the brother I once loved and relied on the most. He wore a perfectly tailored suit, his hair styled without a single strand out of place. He was just as radiant and untouchable as he was five years ago, the day he ruthlessly dumped me in this hellhole. Meanwhile, my eyes were dead. I was so emaciated I looked like a walking corpse. I was utterly unrecognizable. “Okay,” I replied, my voice completely devoid of emotion. The other people on the helicopter perked up their ears. The people I once called friends covertly pinched their noses, terrified the stench radiating from me would pollute their lungs. Maya did the same. Suppressing her disgust, she sat next to me and put on a sickeningly fake performance. “Sister, is your body holding up okay? Miscarrying over thirty times… you must have suffered so much.” Hidden beneath my mud-caked sleeves, my hands slowly clenched into tight fists. Five years ago, Maya, the true biological daughter of the Sterling family, was found. The very next day, she framed me, claiming I tried to kidnap and murder her. Arthur, who had just been reunited with his long-lost sister, flew into a blind, explosive rage. Showing absolutely no mercy, he banished me to a brutal, lawless compound deep in the wilderness. He told the savage men there to punish me well—as long as they kept me breathing. On my very first day there, at eighteen years old, I was violently stripped of my innocence. A month later, I was pregnant. They beat and kicked me until I miscarried. I got pregnant again. They beat it out of me again. This cycle repeated until I lost exactly thirty children. Today, my body is nothing but a hollow shell on the verge of collapse. I ignored Maya, afraid that if I engaged, I might accidentally rip her hypocritical face clean off. Arthur spoke up from the side. “I’ve arranged for the best private hospital and doctors for you. Focus on your recovery. As long as you’ve learned your lesson, the past is in the past.” A flash of mockery crossed my eyes. “Thank you so much, brother.” His brow furrowed slightly. He looked like he wanted to say something, but swallowed the words back down. I turned my head and looked around the cabin. Only then did I realize something. This private jet was the birthday gift he gave me when I turned eighteen. It was the only custom model of its kind in the world. I never even got the chance to enjoy it before Maya showed up with her blood test results. And now, look at what I’ve become. By my ear, Maya’s obnoxiously affected voice chimed in again. “Arthur, let’s have the jet deep-cleaned when we get back,” she pouted. “It smells a bit foul in here.” She covered her mouth, looking at me with feigned apology. “Sister, I’m just the kind of person who speaks her mind. Please don’t take offense.” Arthur coaxed her in a soft, gentle voice. “Alright, whatever my princess wants. And you’re not wrong, the smell is unpleasant.” Maya giggled, throwing herself into Arthur’s arms like a spoiled child, but shooting me a provocative glare. My eyes didn’t shift. There wasn’t a single ripple of emotion in my gaze. Five years ago, I would have screamed, demanded answers, and fought desperately for his affection. Five years later, I couldn’t care less. Arthur thought of something and turned to me. “If you want a jet, I’ll buy you a new one. This one belongs to Maya now. Don’t fight her for it.” I met his gaze, genuinely confused. “Did I say I was going to fight her for it? If she likes it, she can keep it. I don’t care.” His eyes instantly darkened. He even pushed Maya out of his arms. He scrutinized me, a complex look washing over his face. “You don’t care? I picked this jet out myself for your eighteenth birthday. Didn’t you treasure it above all else?” I smiled, my tone flat. “People change.” Just like how he used to treat me like I was more important than his own life. And then threw me away without a second of hesitation. He choked on his words, his chest suddenly feeling inexplicably heavy. I turned my gaze out the window. Suddenly, the System’s interface appeared. [Because the original owner of this body failed her life mission and died long ago, her physical vessel must be destroyed before your soul can return to your original world.] My fingers paused. I nodded, understanding what it meant. It just meant I needed to die a dramatic death. That was easy enough to arrange. Two hours later, the jet touched down on the helipad of the Sterling estate. As Maya stepped off, a swarm of servants immediately rushed forward, offering her water and showering her with excessive care. A young maid rolled her eyes at me. “The fake heiress who stole the nest actually has the nerve to come back? Shameless.” Maya heard it and smiled, not reprimanding her. Instead, she accept a cup of hot tea from the maid as a silent reward. Seeing this, the other servants instantly understood the dynamic. They started whispering and gossiping loudly about me. “I heard Mr. Sterling’s assistant say she was passed around by all those backwoods hicks and miscarried thirty times…” “That many?! She must be carrying some kind of filthy disease! Is it contagious?!” Hearing that, the crowd hurriedly backed away, frowning and covering their mouths in disgust. My footsteps halted. I turned a dark, icy glare toward them. I slowly walked up to the maid who spoke first. “W-What are you doing?” She panicked slightly but kept her chin raised. “I didn’t say anything wrong! You’re ruined goods!” My fingers itched, but I didn’t slap her. I just let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Bridget, six years ago, when your family went bankrupt and you were about to be put on the streets, don’t forget who brought you into the Sterling estate and gave you a job to survive.” “If you speak too many words that go against your conscience, be careful lightning doesn’t strike you dead.” Her breath hitched instantly. “I…” Maya opportunistically interrupted me. “Sister, they’re just gossiping. There’s no need to get so angry.” As she spoke, her eyes turned red with manufactured grievance. “Or… do you just have a problem with me? Do you still think I stole your place…” Arthur, who had just stepped off the jet behind us, heard this. He rushed forward, pulling Maya into his arms to comfort her. “What silly things are you saying? You are my blood sister. You can have whatever you want in this house. No one has the right to say you stole anything!” Then, he turned a dark, warning glare at me. “Acting up the second you get back?” “Chloe, do you want to go back to the compound?!” My spine stiffened. I didn’t even have the energy to defend myself. “It’s my fault.” Hearing this, he froze. An inexplicable wave of discomfort washed over his heart. “You don’t have anything else to say? You’re just admitting it? What if I’m falsely accusing you?” I let out a soft, airy laugh. “There’s no point. People who don’t believe me never will. Words are useless.” His lips pressed into a tight, thin line, his expression turning ugly. But I had already turned around and walked away. Arthur caught up with me. As we walked into the front courtyard, I saw that the orange tree I had planted with my own hands as a child had been entirely uprooted. It had been replaced by a sprawling garden of roses—Maya’s favorite. Arthur frowned. He instinctively glanced at me and explained. “Maya is allergic to citrus. If you really can’t bear to part with it, I can have it replanted in the backyard.” I stopped walking. A memory echoed in my mind. On the day we planted it, Arthur had smiled and said: “This little sapling will grow up with my favorite sister. Let’s see who grows taller first.” The memory shattered. I spoke with cold detachment. “No need. Uprooted is uprooted. Better that it dies.” A flash of irritation crossed his eyes. Suppressing a sudden, inexplicable surge of anger, he said: “In three days, I’m hosting a Welcome Gala to officially announce Maya to high society.” “Since you’re the one who occupied her place for so long, it’s crucial you attend. Otherwise, people will gossip about her.” Three days… The corners of my mouth twitched upward. “Sorry to disappoint, but I won’t be able to make it in three days.” After all, by then, I’d already be dead. Hearing this, it was as if Arthur finally found an outlet for his suppressed anger. His face turned thunderous. He grabbed my wrist in a vice-like grip, squeezing so hard I could hear my bones grinding against each other. “I am not asking for your permission! Not unless you haven’t suffered enough over the last five years!” My face drained of color. I gritted my teeth to keep from crying out in pain. Thud. He shoved me away and looked down at me with a lethal warning. “If you don’t show up in three days, I will show you what real consequences look like!” I fell hard onto the pavement. My wrist, already nothing but skin and bone, twisted at an unnatural angle. Watching his cold, retreating back, my eyes stung with unshed tears. Walking upstairs, I followed my memory to push open my bedroom door, only to freeze in the doorway. The decor was completely changed. Photos of Maya were plastered everywhere. She happened to walk up behind me. “Sorry, sister. Your room became mine five years ago.” “Do me a favor and go sleep in a guest room. Or the maid’s quarters.” I pressed my lips together, offering no resistance, and turned to walk down to a first-floor guest room. Maya was incredibly frustrated. It felt like punching cotton. She was winning at every turn, yet she felt suffocatingly unfulfilled. What she wanted to see was me fighting back, screaming hysterically, and begging for mercy. Not this dead, apathetic shell. Staring at my retreating back, a vicious, cruel light flashed in Maya’s eyes. She pulled out her phone and made a call. I picked a random room, stood under the showerhead, and took my first real shower in five years. When the hot water hit my skin, I flinched in terror, completely unaccustomed to it. I reached out and slowly wiped the steam off the mirror. The woman’s body in the glass was covered in horrific ruins. Before the old whip marks and burn scars could fade, terrifying new layers of scar tissue had already formed over them. I didn’t sleep well that night. My dreams were filled with scenes of torture and violation. The disgusting laughter of those animals echoed in my ears. It wasn’t until dawn that I jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. “Thank you, Miss Maya, Mr. Arthur. It was our pleasure to do what we were told.” My entire body went rigid. I snapped my head toward the door. The blood in my veins turned to ice, and my body began to tremble uncontrollably. That voice—I wouldn’t forget it if I lived a hundred lifetimes! I burst out of the room like a madwoman. And there, standing in the middle of the grand living room, were the absolute animals from the compound, fawning over Maya and Arthur like loyal dogs! Cletus raised an eyebrow, his sticky, repulsive gaze scanning my body. “Well, look who it is. Chloe! You’ve changed so much, Uncle Cletus almost didn’t recognize you.” The string holding my sanity together snapped. Whatever fragile, forced rationality I had left was instantly obliterated! “Why the hell are you here?!” I screamed, lunging forward like a lunatic. I grabbed a heavy crystal ashtray and hurled it at his head with all my might. “Get out! Get the fuck out!” The heavy glass struck Cletus. Blood poured down his forehead. “You crazy bitch!” He instinctively raised his hand to beat me like he always did, but catching sight of Arthur’s deep frown on the sofa, he held back. My eyes were bloodshot. The nightmare I just woke from was playing out in reality. I sprinted into the kitchen and grabbed a butcher knife! “I’ll kill all of you!” The man on the sofa finally moved. Smack! My breakdown was brought to a violent, abrupt halt. I felt a rush of wind, and then my cheek exploded with blinding pain. I collapsed onto the floor, my eyes brimming with tears of absolute despair. “Calm the hell down!” Arthur lowered his raised hand, his face filled with irritation and disgust. “Maya invited them. Considering you finally learned how to behave thanks to their efforts, I agreed it made sense.” “They will be attending Maya’s Welcome Gala. Don’t you dare throw a psychotic fit!” All the strength drained from my body. Looking at the brother I used to love more than anything, a hoarse, broken sob ripped from my throat. “Why…” “Why are you doing this to me… Arthur, just kill me.” His pupils contracted sharply. “What did you just say?” But before he could process it, I coughed up a mouthful of black blood. Under his trembling gaze, I lost consciousness. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. Arthur was sitting beside me, his eyes lowered, completely motionless, lost in thought. Seeing me open my eyes, he quickly leaned forward. “Does it hurt anywhere else? I’ve scheduled a full-body scan for you.” I looked away. “There’s no need. I know my own body. It’s nothing serious.” He hesitated. “Those men… if you’re really that repulsed by them, I’ll have them leave.” My hands curled into tight fists under the blanket. Just as I was about to speak, Maya walked in. She glanced at me, hiding the malice in her eyes, and immediately turned to whine at Arthur. “Arthur, I really like them. They’re so genuine and real. Please let them stay for my gala, okay?” “But…” He glanced at me. Maya let go of his arm, her tears falling like broken pearls. “I knew it! The second sister came back, you stopped loving me! I’m just an extra in this family!” “If that’s how it is, I’ll just leave!” Of course, she didn’t leave. Because the guilt Arthur had just felt toward me was instantly thrown out the window the second he saw her cry. He rushed to comfort her. “Okay, okay, whatever you say. They can stay.” Tears still hung on Maya’s eyelashes. “I want them to stay in the mansion, too.” Arthur nodded without a second thought. “Alright. Whatever you want.” My heart spasmed violently, shrinking and throbbing with agonizing pain. I let out a bitter, desolate smile. At that moment, Arthur received a phone call and hurried out of the room. Leaving just Maya and me in the hospital room. She stopped hiding her true colors, laughing with vicious delight. “See? You can never take what’s mine. Not my brother, not your friends, not even the servants.” “As long as I ask, even if I tell him to throw you back to those men, Arthur will agree.” She stepped forward, pinching my chin hard. “Just like back then. All it took was a staged kidnapping I orchestrated myself, and he believed me without a single doubt.” My eyes widened in horror. My breath hitched. “It was you?! You set the whole thing up?!” “Yep,” she smiled smugly. “Go ahead, tell him. Go tell him the truth. Let’s see if he believes you.” I felt like my eyes were going to bleed. Thinking of the five years of dark, agonizing torture I endured, a surge of pure, unfiltered hatred rushed to my head. “Maya, I swear to God, I am going to kill you!” She gave a contemptuous laugh. “Oh, I’m so scared.” Then, she turned and strutted out of the room.

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On the eve of getting our marriage license, I discovered my fiancé was hiding a girl in a private psychiatric facility. That day, I slapped the marriage application down on the table and gave him two choices. Either withdraw the application, or send her back to her hometown. Liam Vance chain-smoked all night at the training grounds. In the end, he picked up the pen and signed our marriage paperwork. But later, right in the middle of our wedding reception, a girl with scarred wrists suddenly rushed the stage. “Liam, my brother died because of you. Won’t you even give me the last shred of your love?” The bridal bouquet I was holding dropped to the floor. He left me with nothing but the sight of his frantic, retreating back. I pulled the corsage off my dress and pressed my hand down on the officiant’s notes. “If you walk out those doors today, our marriage certificate is void.” His footsteps paused for a fraction of a second. But he still walked away. … The music at the wedding venue ground to a halt. The whispers of the guests stabbed into my ears like needles. I stood frozen on the stage, staring at those empty double doors. My parents walked up and draped a coat over my shoulders. “Chloe, let’s go home.” I nodded and followed them off the stage. Passing the table where Liam’s parents sat, I stopped. Liam’s mother grabbed my hand, her eyes red. “Chloe, Liam didn’t mean to do this. Don’t blame him.” I pulled my hand away and gave them a deep, respectful bow. “Mr. and Mrs. Vance, I’m sorry.” After that, I didn’t linger. I followed my parents out of the hall. That night, Liam didn’t come home. The next day, he still didn’t come back. On the third night, he returned, reeking of alcohol. He stood in the doorway, looking at me sitting on the sofa. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” I didn’t answer. I just pointed to a document on the coffee table. “Take a look.” He walked over and picked it up. It was an involuntary psychiatric hold and transfer order for Mia Lawson. Because she had self-harmed at a military officer’s wedding, disrupting the peace, she had been transferred to a secure mental health facility. “Did you do this?” he asked, his voice cold. “It’s protocol,” I said flatly. He crumpled the document into a ball and hurled it fiercely at the ground. “Chloe, she’s just a sick girl! Her brother died trying to save me. I owe her!” “What you owe her shouldn’t be paid by me.” “Can’t you just try to understand where I’m coming from?” I looked at him and suddenly felt like I was looking at a stranger. We had known each other for ten years. He had never spoken to me in that tone before. I stood up and walked toward the bedroom. “Liam, let’s separate for a while.” I closed the door and listened to the sound of him smashing things in the living room. Lying in bed, I stayed awake the entire night. 2 When I woke up the next morning, Liam was already gone. He left a sticky note on the kitchen island. [I went to take care of Mia.] I threw the note into the trash and headed to the military hospital. I am the youngest Chief of Neurosurgery at the General Hospital. Today, I had an incredibly high-stakes, complex procedure. I was on my feet in the OR for thirteen hours. By the time I walked out, I was almost completely exhausted. A colleague handed me a bottle of water. “Dr. Evans, you broke your own record again.” I managed a weak smile but didn’t speak. Back in my office, I saw an insulated thermos sitting on my desk. Liam had brought it. I opened it; it was my favorite clam chowder. The soup was still warm. I put the lid back on and pushed it to the side. My phone rang. It was Liam. I didn’t answer. He followed up with a text: [Did you eat the soup? I made it specially for you.] I replied with a single letter. [K.] He texted back almost immediately. [I’m sorry. I was impulsive yesterday.] [Chloe, we’ve been together for so long. Let’s not throw it away over something this small.] I stared at that message and didn’t reply for a very long time. That evening, I returned to the apartment we had bought to be our marital home. Someone was standing by the door. Mia Lawson. She was wearing hospital scrubs, her face deathly pale. She looked at me timidly. “Dr. Evans.” “Why are you here?” I asked. “Liam got me out,” she lowered her head. “He said the facility was too stifling.” I pulled out my keys to unlock the door. “Do you need something?” “Could I… could I come inside and sit for a bit?” “No.” I refused her flatly. She bit her lip, and tears began to fall. “Dr. Evans, I know you don’t like me. But… I really have nowhere else to go.” “Liam said he would take care of me, just like my brother took care of him.” “I just want… to have a home.” Looking at her, I only felt a deep sense of absurdity. “Your home shouldn’t be my home.” I pushed the door open to go inside, preparing to shut it behind me. Suddenly, she stuck her foot in the doorway, blocking the door, and then threw her entire body forward, crashing into the entryway. Her forehead hit the doorframe hard, instantly turning an angry shade of red. “Ah!” she cried out in pain. Liam rushed up the stairs from the landing. He shoved me aside and helped Mia up. “Mia, are you okay?” Mia trembled in his arms, crying and shaking her head. Liam looked up, glaring at me furiously. “Chloe, do you really have to be like this?” “Did I push her?” I asked. He didn’t answer. He just held Mia, his eyes filled with profound disappointment. “She is my brother-in-arms’ sister. He sacrificed himself for me. Now she’s homeless and struggling with her mental health.” “I just want to let her stay here temporarily. Is that really so hard for you to accept?” “This is supposed to be our home,” I reminded him. “It’s just temporary!” he emphasized, his voice rising. I stared at him, unable to form a single word. He carried Mia past me, walking straight into our house. Walking straight into our bedroom. 3 Mia moved into the master bedroom. Liam didn’t leave that night. He also slept in the master bedroom, claiming he was “afraid she might have an episode in the middle of the night.” I locked myself in the guest room, listening through the wall to the muffled sounds of his comforting whispers and her quiet sobbing. The next day, I went to work as usual. When I came back, the house had changed. My favorite landscape painting in the living room had been taken down, replaced by a generic oil painting. The orchids I had carefully cultivated for three years were gone, replaced by a pot of lucky bamboo. Mia was in the kitchen, cooking, wearing my pajamas. When she saw me, she smiled somewhat sheepishly. “Dr. Evans, you’re back. I made dinner. I hope you like it.” I stared at the pajamas she was wearing. My mother had sewn them by hand for me. I hadn’t even worn them once. I walked over and pointed to where the painting used to be. “Who told you to touch that?” “It… it was Liam,” she said timidly. “He said the colors in the landscape were too depressing and not good for my recovery.” “And the flowers?” “That was Liam too… He said orchids are too delicate and I wouldn’t know how to care for them.” I stepped right in front of her. “Take them off.” She froze. “What?” “Take off the pajamas you’re wearing right now.” Her face instantly flushed crimson, and tears welled up in her eyes. “Dr. Evans, I’m sorry. I just thought they were pretty… I didn’t mean anything by it.” Liam walked out of the hallway. “Enough, Chloe!” He walked over to Mia, shielding her behind him. “It’s just a pair of pajamas. Are you really going to make a huge deal out of this?” “If she likes them, let her wear them. You have a whole closet full of clothes, you’re going to miss one set of pajamas?” I looked at his face, so full of righteous indignation. The very last shred of feeling I had for him evaporated. “Liam, tell her to leave.” “Absolutely not,” he answered with ironclad certainty. “Fine. Then I’ll leave.” I turned around, went into the guest room, and started gathering my most precious medical journals and handwritten research notes. I stacked my notes on the desk and pulled out my suitcase to start packing. Just as I turned around, Mia walked in carrying a glass of water. “Dr. Evans, have some water. Please don’t be mad.” She held the glass out toward me. I didn’t take it. Her hand suddenly “slipped.” The entire glass of water splashed directly onto my handwritten notes. The water instantly soaked into the pages. My brain let out a loud, ringing buzz. I rushed over, grabbed the notebook, and frantically tried to dab up the water with tissues. But it was useless. The ink was already bleeding into illegible, blurry smears. I looked up at Mia, who wore an expression of sheer panic. She kept apologizing: “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Dr. Evans, I didn’t mean to…” Liam walked in then. Seeing the scene, he frowned, pulled Mia toward him, and inspected her hands. “Did the water burn you?” Mia shook her head, crying even harder. “Liam, I ruined Dr. Evans’s things…” Liam glanced at the soaked notebook. “It’s just a notebook. I’ll buy you a new one to replace it.” He said dismissively, “Mia didn’t do it on purpose. Can you stop holding grudges over every little thing?” I held the ruined notebook, my hands shaking uncontrollably. My mentor had left that notebook to me before he died. It was the only one of its kind in the entire world. I looked at Liam. “You’ll replace it?” “How exactly are you going to replace it?” He choked on his words, his face flushing with embarrassment. “Chloe, stop being so unreasonable.” I laughed. I tossed the ruined notebook onto the floor, turned around, pulled out my suitcase, and started packing my clothes. Liam stood in the doorway, watching me. “What are you trying to pull now?” “I told you, I’m leaving.” I didn’t look back. “Over something this trivial, you’re running away from home?” “Chloe, can you please act like an adult?” I ignored him and kept packing. Mia cried softly beside him. “It’s all my fault. Liam, please don’t fight with Dr. Evans…” Liam sighed and patted her shoulder to comfort her. “It’s not your fault. She’s just being completely irrational.” I zipped up my suitcase and stood up. As I walked past Liam, I didn’t even glance at him. At the front door, I stopped. “Liam, this is the choice you made.” With that, I rolled my suitcase out the door, leaving behind the place I once thought would be my forever home. That was the first time I had ever walked out. Three days later, Liam found the hotel I was staying at. He brought my favorite pastries from a high-end bakery, and a beautifully wrapped notebook. “Chloe, stop being mad. Come home with me.” “I had someone restore that book. Look, it’s as good as new.” I opened the notebook. The handwriting inside was forged, and much of the complex medical data didn’t match up at all. I handed the notebook back to him. “Liam, please leave.” The smile on his face froze. “Chloe, how long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?” “I already sent her away to a facility. What more do you want?” “Can you please stop making a mountain out of a molehill?” I looked at him straight in the eyes. “I never make mountains out of molehills.” I closed the door in his face. He stood outside for a long time, but eventually, he left. 4 After that, we didn’t speak for a month in a cold war. He didn’t come looking for me, and I didn’t go back. Until news broke from the western border. A massive earthquake had struck. The General Hospital needed to assemble an emergency medical response team to head to the disaster zone. I was appointed as the team leader. When the roster was finalized, I saw Liam’s name. He was the overall commanding officer of the military rescue operation. We met up on the tarmac at the airbase. He looked surprised when he saw me, then walked over. “What are you doing here?” “I’m a doctor,” I said. He looked at me, hesitating as if he wanted to say more. In the end, he only said two words. “Stay safe.” I nodded. The transport plane took off, heading for the disaster zone. The situation on the ground was far more catastrophic than we had imagined. Rubble and collapsed buildings were everywhere, and the number of casualties was staggering. We immediately threw ourselves into the rescue effort. I performed five back-to-back surgeries in a makeshift, poorly-lit medical tent. It got dark, and the rain was still pouring down. A nurse ran in, frantic. “Dr. Evans, this is bad! The blood bank in Sector A is critically low, and a shipment of specialized serum got stranded by a mudslide on the mountain road.” That serum was desperately needed for a critically injured soldier. Without it, he wouldn’t survive the night. “I’ll go get it,” I said. “It’s too dangerous, Dr. Evans. The roads have collapsed.” “I am a doctor.” I stripped off my surgical scrubs, threw on a rain poncho, grabbed a med kit, and sprinted out into the storm. Liam’s unit was responsible for perimeter security. I found him. “I need to go retrieve the serum. I need a Humvee and two men.” He looked at me, his brow furrowing deeply. “No. It’s too dangerous.” “The patient can’t wait.” We stared each other down in the pouring rain. Finally, he compromised. “I’ll go with you.” “No, you need to stay here and command the operation.” He assigned two of his best men to escort me. We bounced violently along the treacherous, muddy mountain road in the military Humvee. Suddenly, Liam’s anxious voice crackled over the radio. “Chloe, what’s your location?” “Almost there.” “Turn back immediately! There’s a high risk of a secondary landslide!” Before the words even finished echoing in the cabin, I felt the vehicle lurch violently. The mountain had started shaking again. “Quick! Turn around!” I yelled to the driver. But as the Humvee rounded a bend, the entire road ahead of us crumbled and slid into the valley below. We were trapped. And the radio went dead. We had no choice but to wait for rescue. I stared at the empty med kit, my heart burning with anxiety about the serum. Every second felt like an eternity. Suddenly, I heard the heavy thwop-thwop of helicopter blades. Liam had personally led a Blackhawk team to extract us. The chopper hovered over us in the storm, lowering a rescue basket. They hoisted the serum up first. Then, me and the two soldiers. As soon as my boots hit the ground at the temporary command post, I sprinted to deliver the serum to the surgical tent. Liam followed closely behind me. “Are you hurt?” “I’m fine.” He grabbed my arm tightly. “Chloe, you are never allowed to take a risk like that again.” I looked at him and said nothing. Just then, a communications officer ran up, saluting breathlessly. “Reporting, Commander! We just got word that a civilian snuck into the rear supply convoy, and now she’s missing on the road!” “A civilian? Who?” Liam demanded. “Her name… her name is Mia Lawson.” The color drained instantly from Liam’s face. He let go of my arm and turned to run. “Liam!” I yelled after him. “I have to go save her.” He didn’t even look back. “The situation out there is incredibly dangerous, you can’t go!” “She came here for me.” With that, he grabbed a squad and vanished into the wall of rain. I stood frozen in the mud, my body feeling like ice. A colleague walked over and patted my shoulder sympathetically. “Dr. Evans, try not to worry. Commander Vance is highly experienced. He’ll be okay.” I nodded slowly and turned back toward the surgical tent. The wounded were still waiting for me. I scrubbed back in, put on a fresh gown and gloves, but my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to compartmentalize and calm down. I picked up the scalpel. At that exact moment, the earth violently bucked again. The heavy steel support beam above the tent ceiling broke loose and plummeted downward. Pure instinct took over; I shoved the nurse and the patient on the operating table out of the way. But I didn’t have time to dive clear myself. The steel beam crashed heavily onto my right arm. Blinding, white-hot agony shot through me. My vision went black, and I lost consciousness. I don’t know how long I was out. When I woke up, I was lying in a sterile hospital bed. My right arm was heavily wrapped in thick layers of gauze. I tried to twitch my fingers. Nothing happened. I felt absolutely no sensation. Just a terrifying, heavy numbness and a deep, pulsing ache. The Director of the hospital was standing by my bed. He looked at me, his expression grave. “My hand… how bad is it?” I forced the words out, my throat raspy. The Director was silent for a long time. “Severe comminuted fracture in the right forearm, with catastrophic nerve damage.” My mind went completely blank. Catastrophic nerve damage. That meant I would never be able to hold a scalpel again. I was a neurosurgeon. My hands were my entire life, my entire identity. And now, my life as I knew it was over. I stared blankly at the ceiling as tears streamed silently down my face. The Director let out a heavy sigh. “I’ve contacted the best specialists in the country. We are going to do everything we possibly can.” I closed my eyes. “Director. I want to submit my resignation and request a medical discharge.” “Chloe, don’t make any rash decisions right now.” “I’ve made up my mind.” My career as a surgeon ended the year I turned twenty-eight. I lay in that hospital bed for a week. Liam didn’t visit me a single time. I heard from colleagues that he had found Mia. She only had a few minor scrapes, but was severely spooked. He had been staying with her at the rear recovery camp the entire time. The day I was discharged, I processed all the paperwork myself. I went back to the military housing complex. The apartment was completely empty. All of Mia’s things were still there. My belongings had been neatly packed into boxes and stacked in the corner of the living room. Next to the boxes was a sticky note. [Let’s talk when you get back.] It was Liam’s handwriting. I walked over and unzipped my suitcase. Inside were all my clothes and personal items. Resting right on top was a ring box. It contained my engagement ring. I took it out and placed it gently on the table. Then, I pulled two documents out of my bag. One was my approved medical discharge and resignation from the military medical corps. The other was a formal Declaration of Broken Engagement. I signed my name at the bottom. Chloe Evans. I lined up the two documents and the engagement ring side-by-side on the table. After finishing, I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and took one last, long look around the apartment. Then, I walked out the door, closing it firmly behind me, and never looked back. This time, I didn’t go to a hotel. I booked the earliest possible flight and left the city entirely.

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The formidable, cutthroat CEO Liam Thorne dropped to his knees the second I confronted him. “That night I was drunk. I thought she was you. I swear on my life, it will never happen again.” The young college student, blushing deeply, confessed that she saw Liam had money and wanted to use the baby to secure her future. Liam personally took her to the clinic for an abortion. For the next six years, our marriage was the picture of perfect devotion. Until our sixth anniversary, when I stood outside a hotel room holding my positive pregnancy test, ready to finally turn the page. I was carrying a box of his favorite red velvet cake, arriving at the hotel where he was supposedly on a business trip. Just as I stepped out of the elevator onto his floor. I heard a woman’s voice coming from around the corner, holding a six-year-old boy and sending a sickly-sweet voice memo. “You’re so bad… you insisted on finishing inside last night. My legs are still like jelly.” “You have to go easy on me tonight, or I’m going to give you the silent treatment.” I couldn’t help but marvel at how open people were these days, and out of sheer curiosity, I took a glance. My entire body froze in place. It was that exact same college student from six years ago. 1 Chloe Davis didn’t seem to recognize me. She continued recording her voice memo, her tone soft and seductive. “Make sure you shower and wait for me. I’m going to wring you dry tonight.” “I don’t want strawberry flavor today, I want cheesecake~” “Mommy, I want to eat the strawberry tart Daddy bought!” The little boy called out in a sweet, childish voice. Chloe crouched down and kissed his cheek: “Okay, Daddy is waiting for us in the room. Be a good boy. When you see Daddy, you have to tell him how much you missed him.” With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone and sent Liam a text: [Honey, are you busy?] The top of the chat window continuously showed “Typing…”. But after a full minute, no message came through. I dialed his number. “We’re sorry, the number you have reached is turned off…” It seemed he had turned his phone off so he wouldn’t be disturbed. Chloe held the child’s hand, her hips swaying seductively as she walked to the presidential suite at the end of the hall. She raised her hand and knocked lightly three times, a cheerful rhythm. A large, distinctively masculine hand reached out, grabbing Chloe’s slender waist. He pulled her and the child inside. In the second before the door closed, through the crack, I clearly saw Liam’s familiar face. He was smiling so tenderly. He lowered his head to kiss Chloe’s forehead, his eyes full of absolute adoration. Then he scooped up the little boy, put him on his shoulders, and made funny faces to make the child laugh. Click. The door shut in my face, cutting off the happy laughter of their family of three. A wave of dizziness hit me. My feet felt as heavy as lead. The scenes from the past six years flashed through my mind like a movie reel. I remembered how, no matter how late he worked, he would always cook me healthy soups, insisting takeout wasn’t good for me. I remembered how every time he traveled for work, he would send me his itinerary and bring back a suitcase full of my favorite local treats. I remembered three years ago when he had the opportunity to transfer to the London office and be promoted to Executive VP. But because I wasn’t used to living abroad, he gave it up without a second thought. He had said: “Rylee, what’s the point of conquering the world if I don’t have you by my side?” That night, I was so moved I cried in his arms until dawn. I also remembered the day we got our marriage license six years ago. Chloe, heavily pregnant, stood crying hysterically outside the courthouse, begging me to step aside. Liam’s face had turned pale with rage. He dragged Chloe into his car, saying he was taking her to the hospital. Three hours later, he came back alone. His hands were covered in blood, and his shirt was stained with it. He dropped to his knees in front of me, knocking his forehead against the ground: “Honey, the mistake has been taken care of.” “Please, give me one chance. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” Those blood-soaked hands became a nightmare I couldn’t shake for six years. But they also became the ironclad proof that made me believe he had truly changed. To give me peace of mind, he even voluntarily got a vasectomy. “Rylee, we don’t need kids. You are the only one I want for the rest of my life.” The vows were still ringing in my ears, but the man had completely changed. My phone vibrated suddenly. My mom sent a text: [How is it? Did you tell Liam the good news about the pregnancy? He must be thrilled!] Fighting back the urge to vomit, my fingers trembling, I typed a reply: [Just got to the hotel. Haven’t had a chance to tell him yet.] 2 After sending the message, I turned and walked toward the elevator. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I forced them back down. I sat on a sofa in the hotel lobby, waiting quietly. Ten minutes later, the elevator doors opened. Liam had changed into a navy blue button-down shirt, with gold-rimmed glasses resting on his high nose bridge. He looked refined and elegant, showing absolutely no trace of the degenerate behavior happening in that room just moments ago. When he saw me, his pupils constricted, and his footsteps halted for half a second. But he quickly adjusted his expression and walked briskly toward me. “Honey!” He crouched in front of me, his face full of concern, and reached out to hold my icy hands: “What are you doing here? Didn’t I tell you to get some rest at home?” “Traveling is exhausting. I didn’t want you to strain yourself.” I discreetly pulled my hands away and pointed to the cake box on the table: “Today is our sixth anniversary. I wanted to surprise you.” Liam glanced at the cake, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, honey. It’s my fault I have to travel on a day like today.” “This is from your favorite bakery, right? Thank you so much.” Just then, the phone in his suit pocket vibrated. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, his expression shifting slightly, and then naturally hit ‘decline’ right in front of me. “Just a spam call.” He explained, but his eyes couldn’t meet mine. Watching his guilty demeanor, I sneered inwardly. My gaze swept over his collar. Even though he had purposely buttoned his shirt all the way up to the top. As he looked down, my sharp eyes still caught the edge of a hickey on his neck. Liam seemed to notice my gaze. He instinctively adjusted his collar, stood up, and said: “Honey, I have an incredibly important overseas conference call this afternoon.” “How about you go sit in the café for a bit, maybe get some hot milk? Once my meeting is over, I’ll come right down and take you out for a massive dinner, okay?” I abruptly stood up and grabbed the cake from the table. “No need. Since you’re busy, I won’t bother you.” With that, I turned and headed for the hotel entrance. Liam obviously didn’t expect this reaction and hurriedly chased after me, grabbing my arm. “Rylee, are you mad because I don’t have time to be with you right now?” “Be good, don’t throw a tantrum. This project is really critical for the company…” As he spoke, he leaned in, trying to kiss my cheek to coax me. As he got closer, the smell of baby lotion drifted into my nose. “Don’t touch me!” I violently shook off his hand and stepped back twice. Liam froze, his outstretched hand suspended in mid-air. “Rylee?” I stared at him, forcing down the bitterness in my heart. “I’m tired. I want to go home. Go do your work.” Liam checked his watch, hesitated for a moment, and still chose that mother and son. “Honey, please don’t be mad. I promise I’ll make it up to you when I get back. That necklace you had your eye on? I already had someone buy it for you.” With that, he quickly turned and walked briskly back into the hotel. Watching his eager, retreating back, I stood on the sidewalk, trembling all over. Two cleaning ladies passing by were chatting. “Wow, the guy in the presidential suite really dotes on his wife and kid.” “Yeah, every time he comes, he specifically asks for the baby crib with rounded edges. Says he’s afraid the kid will bump his head.” “Just now I saw him peeling shrimp for the woman. Tsk, makes you jealous.” I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I raised my hand and threw the cake box directly into a nearby trash can. 3 I flagged down a cab and headed straight for the train station. Along the way, my hands and feet were freezing, but my mind was exceptionally clear. I opened Instagram, searched the location tag for the hotel, and typed in keywords: “baby,” “anniversary.” Quickly, a mommy-blogger account named “Chloe’s Darling Life” popped up. Her latest post was from half an hour ago. In the photo, a man was holding a little boy, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window at the city skyline. The caption read: [Daddy finally finished work and came to celebrate our sixth birthday with us! Baby wished that Daddy and Mommy would be together forever. Love you, hubby~] The background was unmistakably that presidential suite. I kept scrolling down, my thumb swiping faster and faster, my heart growing colder and colder. This account had documented an entire six years. From prenatal checkups, giving birth, postpartum recovery, to the boy learning to walk and starting kindergarten. At every major milestone, that man—always shown only from behind or in profile—was there. Finally, I scrolled to her pinned post. It was a photo of a pink diamond tennis bracelet, with the caption: [Someone insisted on buying me this flashy thing, saying it’s a limited edition. But how am I supposed to hold the baby wearing this? It’s too scratchy. It’s just sitting in my jewelry box now.] I looked closely. It was the exact limited-edition pink diamond bracelet I had been obsessing over but couldn’t bring myself to buy. A follower commented below: [Wow, Chloe, your husband loves you so much! So jealous!] Chloe replied: [He said six years ago that he chose us, and he would love us for the rest of his life.] Large drops of tears smashed onto the phone screen, blurring my vision. Right then, Chloe posted a new update. The camera panned over a floor covered in red roses, ending on a nightstand with an opened box of condoms. In the video, Chloe’s sickly-sweet voice could be heard: “Hubby, for our next baby, do you want a boy or a girl?” Immediately after, Liam’s deep, laughing voice replied: “As long as it’s yours, I don’t care.” My entire body was shaking uncontrollably. Unable to stop myself, I dialed Liam’s number with trembling fingers. It rang for a long time. Just as it was about to go to voicemail, the call connected. “Hello? Honey?” Liam sounded slightly out of breath. I took a deep breath, forcing down the tremor in my voice: “Liam, if… if I was pregnant, would you be happy?” There was a two-second silence on the other end. Then came Liam’s gentle, reassuring laugh: “Silly, didn’t I get a vasectomy? How could you be pregnant?” “Besides, giving birth hurts too much. I couldn’t bear to see you suffer.” Just then, Chloe’s seductive, urging voice could be faintly heard in the background: “Hubby… the bath is ready, hurry up…” Though the voice was quiet, in the dead of night, it was incredibly loud. Liam obviously panicked for a second, speaking hurriedly. “Honey, the signal is bad here. What do you want for dinner tonight? I’ll take you out after my meeting.” I stared at the pregnancy test results in my hand and spoke flatly. “No need. I suddenly lost my appetite.” I could practically hear Liam let out a sigh of relief on the other end: “Then get some rest early, honey. I pulled a few all-nighters for this project and I’m really exhausted. I’ll make it up to you when I get back. Be good.” Hearing the dial tone as he hung up, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. When the train arrived, I took a cab straight to the clinic. I lay on the operating table, watching the anesthesia slowly push into my IV. “Ms. Miller, are you absolutely certain? The fetus is developing very healthily.” The doctor asked for final confirmation. “I’m certain.” I closed my eyes, tears sliding silently down my temples. After the procedure, I lay in bed at home for two full days. During those two days, Liam called dozens of times. I didn’t answer a single one. On the third day, my mother-in-law called. “Rylee, tonight is Liam’s 30th birthday, we’re having a family dinner at the estate. Your parents and your brother are already here. Get ready and come over.” 4 I agreed, put on a full face of makeup, slipped into a striking, crimson evening gown, and pushed open the heavy oak doors of the Thorne estate. My mother grabbed my hand, frowning at me: “Rylee, where have you been these past two days? Liam said you were throwing a tantrum and you wouldn’t answer your phone.” My brother, Ethan Miller, walked over, his brow furrowed: “Why are you so pale? Did Liam do something to you?” Before I could answer, Liam walked over briskly. He naturally wrapped an arm around my waist, coaxing me in a low voice: “Honey, are you still mad that I didn’t spend the day with you?” “I promise, I’ll never go to another meeting like that again.” Saying that, he pulled out a velvet box and opened it like presenting a treasure. It was the exact limited-edition pink diamond bracelet Chloe had called “flashy” and “scratchy.” “I pulled a lot of strings to win this at an auction. I think only my wife is worthy of its beauty.” Liam looked at me with deep affection. I didn’t take it. I picked up a glass of red wine from a passing waiter and threw the contents directly into Liam’s face. “Rylee! What are you doing!” My mother gasped, standing up and rushing over to grab my hand. My mother-in-law froze, and when she recovered, her face was ugly: “Rylee, Liam treats you so well! Even if you have a little temper, you need to know when and where to show it!” Liam wiped the wine off his face, surprisingly not angry at all. He gave a bitter smile and waved it off to the elders: “It’s fine. It’s my fault I neglected Rylee on my business trip. She’s upset, let her get it out of her system.” My mom quickly tried to smooth things over, smiling and changing the subject: “Rylee went to the hospital for a checkup a few days ago, and we have good news! Liam has been talking about it non-stop these past few days. If you guys can have a baby, he says his life will be complete.” Liam froze, then looked at me with an expression of wild ecstasy. “Honey, you’re pregnant? I’m going to be a dad?” I sneered, pulled the abortion clinic paperwork from my designer clutch, and slapped it onto the table. “I was pregnant. But I already had it aborted.” The ecstasy on Liam’s face instantly froze. He stumbled backward, his eyes turning bloodshot. “Why?” I pulled the divorce papers from my clutch and threw them in his face. “Liam Thorne, I’ve already seen Chloe Davis and your six-year-old son.” “After six years, aren’t you exhausted from all the acting?”

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Tricked by my boyfriend into going to a remote, lawless compound deep in the backwoods, I was reduced to nothing more than a breeding machine. The day the local quack cut my stomach open to deliver a breached pregnancy, I lay in a pool of my own blood. Through the haze, I heard the two women guarding the door chewing sunflower seeds and gossiping: “These college girls from the city are so gullible. She actually thinks she was kidnapped by human traffickers.” “Right? Who told her to mess with Mr. Vance’s precious best friend?” “Mr. Vance paid our boss a hundred grand to have the whole compound play along with this ‘escape room’ game. He even personally mailed the labor-inducing drugs.” “I heard Mr. Vance say that as long as she rots in this hellhole for three years and experiences the pain his ‘bestie’ went through, he’ll mercifully take her back to the city to marry her.” Through the crack in the door, I saw the video call from my fiancé, Arthur Vance, playing on the woman’s phone. So, this pitch-black purgatory I had endured for three years was just a customized punishment he orchestrated to make his female best friend happy. The excruciating pain in my abdomen tore at my nerves. As my consciousness teetered on the edge of collapse, a mechanical voice echoed in my mind: [Host, the abuse meter for the target, Arthur Vance, is full. Do you wish to abandon the conquest and detach from the current world?] I opened my eyes, staring at the blackened wooden beams of the ceiling. The heavy wooden door was violently kicked open. The hinges snapped, and the door crashed into the mud, splashing filth everywhere. Arthur Vance, dressed in an immaculate black suit, stepped into the dim, foul-smelling barn. Behind him were five bodyguards in sunglasses. And two private doctors carrying medical kits. The local quack was squatting beside me, holding a rusted needle threaded with coarse black string, hovering over my abdomen. The flesh there had been brutally sliced open, and blood was relentlessly pouring out. Arthur stopped in his tracks, looking at the blood-soaked hay and pig manure covering the floor. He raised a hand and pointed at the quack. “Stop. Get the hell out.” The quack dropped the needle and thread. With his hands covered in dark red blood, he scrambled and crawled out of the barn. Arthur turned his head, issuing a command to his private doctors. “Give her a shot of adrenaline. Use a high dose of stimulants. We can’t have her sleeping through this.” The two doctors immediately stepped forward. One opened a medical kit, pulling out a long syringe to draw a clear liquid. He grabbed the shriveled flesh of my inner thigh and drove the thick needle into my vein. The liquid was rapidly pushed into my body. Ten seconds later, the drug’s effects spread through my bloodstream. My muscles began to spasm uncontrollably. My body thrashed and twitched against the filthy hay. With every convulsion, more blood gushed from the unstitched wound on my stomach. The blood ran down my thighs, pooling into a dark red puddle on the dirt floor. Arthur took a step back, avoiding the blood creeping toward his Italian leather shoes. “Stop acting. I know all your little tricks.” He stared down at me from his high horse. “I read the script the compound boss sent me. The fake wound and the pig’s blood pouch on your stomach? Nice prop work.” He let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Do you really think making yourself look like a tragic heroine is going to erase what you did to Chloe?” The stimulation from the drugs made my brain throb with agonizing pain. My upper body violently lurched forward, my hands instinctively reaching out. My skeletal, withered fingers brushed across the mud and grazed the hem of Arthur’s tailored trousers. The moment my fingertips touched him, I used my raspy, broken throat to force out a faint whisper. “Arthur… it hurts…” Arthur’s face darkened. He violently kicked my hand away. The back of my hand smashed against a stone trough, scraping off a layer of skin. He pulled a pristine white silk handkerchief from his breast pocket. Bending down, he aggressively wiped the spot on his shoe where I had touched him. “Put away that disgusting face.” He crumpled the used handkerchief into a ball and threw it directly at my face. It slid off, landing in the bloody puddle on the floor. “Chloe hasn’t forgiven you yet. You have no right to touch me.” I looked at the handkerchief and didn’t reach out again. I had to leave him. Arthur stood up straight and waved at his bodyguards. “Take her away. Don’t get my car dirty.” Two bodyguards stepped forward. They grabbed my arms and dragged me up from the hay. My legs had been broken months ago. The bones had healed misaligned; I couldn’t straighten them. As they dragged me, my paralyzed legs carved two long trenches through the mud and gravel. The skin on my knees was torn open by the sharp rocks, exposing the white bone underneath. Arthur walked out of the barn and stood on the dirt road at the edge of the compound. Old Man Cletus, the compound boss, stood by the road with a few locals, clutching several thick stacks of hundred-dollar bills. Arthur swept his gaze over them. “You all played your parts well these past three years. Her acting in this little setup of yours was very convincing.” Cletus nodded profusely, stuffing the cash into the pockets of his ragged coat. The bodyguards dragged me over to Arthur and dropped me. My body slammed heavily against the gravel road. Arthur looked down at my broken legs. “You didn’t want to do farm work, so you actually went far enough to break your own legs.” He scoffed through his nose. “Playing the beggar to get sympathy? Making yourself smell like an open sewer—did you really think that would soften my heart?” I closed my eyes. Three years ago today, I was slicing an apple in the kitchen of our mansion. The knife slipped, leaving a tiny, shallow cut on my index finger. A single drop of blood welled up. Arthur had sprinted in from the living room, snatching the knife away from me. He held my finger under running water for ten minutes, brought out the first-aid kit, and wrapped my finger in a thick cocoon of gauze. A month later, he rented out an entire private island. He covered it in red roses. He knelt on one knee in the flowers and slipped a flawless ten-carat diamond ring onto my finger. Two days later, Chloe Miller returned from abroad. She moved into the guest room of our mansion. A week later, Chloe walked down the stairs wearing a white dress that belonged to me. She picked up a pair of scissors from the coffee table and sliced a shallow bloody line into her own forearm. Arthur pushed the front doors open and walked in. Chloe clutched her arm, pointing at me. “Arthur, Stella cut me with the scissors!” Arthur snatched the glass of water out of my hand and shielded Chloe behind him. Another week passed. Chloe was holding a cup of boiling hot coffee. She poured the entire cup directly onto her own shoulder, screaming and shrinking into the corner of the sofa. Arthur rushed down from the second floor. Chloe pointed at me. “Stella tried to burn me to death with boiling water!” The next day, Chloe stood on the edge of the thirtieth-floor rooftop. Arthur rushed over and tackled her to safety. Following that, in front of a swarm of reporters, Arthur shredded our prenuptial agreement. He froze all my bank accounts and had his bodyguards shove me into a car. He personally drove me to this remote backwoods compound and handed a massive stack of cash to Old Man Cletus. He told me to rot here for three full years to experience the pain Chloe had gone through. And those three years were authentic, unfiltered torture. After taking the money, Cletus locked me in the barn. A heavy iron chain was padlocked around my neck. Every day, my only food was rancid pig slop. Every night, those backwoods creeps would walk into the barn. In the suffocating darkness, I suffered miscarriage after miscarriage. The bodyguards hauled me up by the arms and threw me into the trunk of the SUV. When the private jet took off, I lay crumpled in the corner of the cabin. I opened my mouth, wanting to make a sound. Only a broken, raspy wheeze squeezed past my throat. Sitting on the plush leather sofa, Arthur put on a pair of black noise-canceling headphones. “Enough, stop playing mute. Save your energy. When we get back to the city, you’re going to crawl on your knees and beg Chloe for forgiveness.” The jet landed at a private helipad in downtown Manhattan. The bodyguards wrapped me in a black industrial tarp and shoved me into the very back of a luxury van. The vehicle pulled into the underground garage of the Grand Continental Hotel. The elevator went straight to the penthouse ballroom. The grand doors were pushed open. The ballroom was lined with thick red carpets, the crystal chandeliers radiating blinding light. The bodyguards pulled off the tarp and threw me directly into the center of the room. Arthur, holding a microphone, stood under the spotlight. Surrounding us was a crowd of high-society elites holding flutes of champagne. Arthur pointed a finger at me. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the gift I prepared to help cleanse Chloe of her bad luck.” He scanned the crowd. “A vicious, toxic woman I dragged back from the backwoods.” A roar of laughter erupted from the crowd. Several women in expensive evening gowns stepped forward, swirling their wine glasses. They looked down at me. “I heard she stayed in the woods for three years?” “Covering herself in mud on purpose, smelling like a rotting fish… is she trying to disgust Chloe?” I lay flat against the red carpet. I reached out my right arm, planting my elbow against the floor, and dragged my body forward. My broken legs trailed behind me, leaving a dark, wet streak of blood and grime across the immaculate carpet. Chloe, wearing a pristine white tulle gown, walked down the grand spiral staircase. Seeing the blood on the floor, she let out a dramatic gasp. She collapsed into Arthur’s arms, gripping his suit jacket tightly. “Arthur… her blood is so red… I’m scared…” Arthur’s face instantly went ice-cold. He turned to the hotel security guards stationed by the door. “Bring buckets of water. Wash that filthy blood off the carpet right now!” Two guards ran over carrying heavy plastic janitorial buckets. The buckets were filled with freezing, dirty mop water. Arthur pointed at me. “Dump it over her head. Help her wash off this pathetic, vulgar disguise.” The guards lifted the buckets. The freezing water, mixed with dust and grime, crashed down directly over my head. The torrent washed over my matted hair and seeped deep into the unstitched, gaping wound on my abdomen. The bone-chilling cold triggered violent, agonizing muscle spasms. Arthur walked up to me, his polished leather shoe stopping just an inch from my fingertips. “Crawl over here. Bow your head to the floor three times for Chloe.” He looked down at me. “Admit that you faked your pregnancy and faked your death just to fight for my attention. As long as you do that, I’ll give you a chance to be a janitor at the company.” I lowered my head. The gala transitioned into its second half. The bodyguards dragged me out of the ballroom and tossed me into the corner of the hallway outside the women’s restroom. My clothes clung tightly to my body. The bloody water from my abdomen dripped steadily onto the marble tiles. Chloe walked out of the restroom holding a compact mirror. She stopped right in front of me. She lifted her right foot, bringing the razor-sharp heel of her stiletto down hard onto my broken right index finger. She ground her heel left and right. The pain shot straight to my heart. My body seized violently, instinctively trying to shrink back. Watching me, Chloe let out a light, airy laugh. “Did you really think Arthur set you up at a nice little farm retreat?” She bent down, staring right into my face. “The day Cletus got the money, he texted me, asking how I wanted you handled.” She stood up straight, smoothing out her dress. “I texted back: Play with her however you want. Just leave her with one breath.” Chloe stared at the blood pooling around my stomach. “These past few hundred days and nights… tasted pretty good, didn’t they?” The sharp click-clack of leather shoes echoed from the other end of the hall. Arthur appeared around the corner. Chloe immediately threw herself backward, crashing heavily onto the marble floor. She grabbed her ankle, massive tears rolling down her cheeks. “Sister, I know you hate me, but why did you push me…” Arthur’s face changed instantly. He sprinted toward us. Without even glancing at me, he swung his right foot directly into my body. The toe of his leather shoe slammed precisely into the gaping wound on my abdomen. The fragile skin instantly ruptured. Blood and shredded tissue splattered against the wallpaper. I lay flat on my back, my eyes wide open, my breathing coming to a dead stop. Leaning against the wall, Chloe panted, her face pale. “Arthur, I was so scared, my anemia is acting up… I feel so dizzy…” Arthur immediately turned his head, his gaze locking onto me like ice. “Since you have enough energy to push her, you can use your blood to compensate Chloe.” He pulled out a walkie-talkie and called his private doctors waiting outside. Seconds later, a doctor ran down the hallway with a medical kit. Arthur pointed at my arm. “Draw her blood.” The doctor crouched down and pulled up my left arm. He tied a tourniquet around my bicep and pulled a thick, glass vacuum-extraction syringe from his kit. In my mind, the System’s alarm blared again, the frequency incredibly fast. [72-hour countdown has encountered lethal external trauma. Termination protocol accelerating.] [Biological vitals severed. Pain-shielding function deactivated.] [Soul detachment successful. Wishing Host a pleasant journey in your next world.] The needle plunged viciously into my collapsed vein. The extraction pump clicked on, emitting a faint whirring sound. Arthur stood to the side, looking down at his luxury watch, his expression dripping with extreme impatience. “Draw it faster. She won’t die.” He glared at me coldly. “Starving away all your subcutaneous fat just to fake an illness… this pathetic pity act is only going to fool the clueless servants.” My head tilted back, staring at the chandelier on the ceiling. The light in my vision slowly grew darker. I didn’t even have the strength to twitch the corners of my mouth anymore. My eyes lost their focus. Pulled by gravity, my head rolled softly to the right, resting limply against my shoulder. Arthur frowned tightly, barking a sharp order. “Stop playing dead! Lift your head!” The moment the words left his mouth. CRASH. An ear-piercing shattering sound echoed through the hallway. The private doctor let out a horrified scream, his hands jerking back violently. The glass extraction tube hit the marble floor, shattering into a thousand pieces. Dark red liquid splattered everywhere. Arthur took a massive step forward. “What the hell are you doing?!” The doctor didn’t answer him. His eyes were wide with absolute terror. He scrambled backward across the floor until his back slammed into the wall. His hands shook violently in the air, pointing at the ruptured hole in my abdomen. Putrid, black blood was pouring out in a continuous, endless stream. The doctor’s voice was so shrill it completely broke. “M-Mr. Vance… that tube… it was entirely filled with septic blood caused by severe internal organ failure!” He grabbed his own head in horror. He pointed a shaking finger at the rotting flesh. “And her abdomen has absolutely no healing muscle tissue… there is a necrotic, decaying fetal remain inside!” The air in the hallway froze solid. Everyone stood paralyzed in place. The doctor’s trembling voice continued to echo. “Mr. Vance… this body was irreparably destroyed days ago. She is completely, undeniably dead!”

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I was a spoiled, high-maintenance wife who made my billionaire CEO husband give me foot baths and forced my five-year-old heir to massage my calves. That was, until a stream of holographic text suddenly floated across my vision, declaring that I was just the “toxic evil ex-wife” in a romance novel. I was scheduled to be written off soon—paralyzed in a horrific car crash—to make room for the pure, innocent, and kind-hearted female lead. Terrified, I immediately kicked over the foot spa basin and yanked my legs back. Are you kidding me? My legs are long, pale, and flawless. I am not losing them! 1 I’ve always had a pampered, diva-like temper. I married a giant iceberg of a man and gave birth to a mini iceberg. Even as my son turned five, I continued to rule the house like a queen, bossing the two of them around all day. I just loved watching them secretly annoyed but still having to wait on me hand and foot. Until today, when a row of glowing text suddenly scrolled past my eyes. [The toxic wife is finally getting written off! The female lead just transferred to the male lead’s company today, and she even took the little heir out for fried chicken. The plot is finally on track!] [She spends all day torturing our male lead and the little boy. Thank god this father-son duo will eventually kick her out to please the female lead. This pampered rich wife ends up homeless on the streets and gets paralyzed from the waist down by a car.] [Just thinking about the male lead’s new happy family of three visiting the hospital to laugh at that crippled witch makes me so satisfied.] Terrified, I jerked my leg up in a panic. My husband, who was soaking my feet in a warm basin, and my son, who was squatting next to him massaging my calves, were instantly splashed with warm water. The two identical, stoic iceberg faces immediately frowned in unison. I stuttered. “You… you don’t have to do this. I’ll do it myself…” Leo, my five-year-old, knitted his little brows together. His tiny brain probably couldn’t figure out why I was throwing a fit this time. “Mom, is the water too hot?” I awkwardly placed my foot back into the basin. “No, I’m done soaking. You don’t need to massage me anymore. You can get up.” I swallowed hard and looked at my husband, who was also resting on one knee. “You get up too.” Compared to Leo, Carter was much more composed. He seemed completely used to my erratic mood swings. He calmly stood up to grab a towel. [Look how humiliated the male lead and the little heir are, kneeling like that. It’s going to be so satisfying when they slap her in the face later.] [Making the little prince massage her legs, and the billionaire CEO wash her feet. She really has a death wish.] I stared at the scrolling subtitles in utter silence. So, after all this time, I was just a villainous supporting character. My husband and son were the main characters of this fictional world. Not only did I have to step aside for the female lead, but my son Leo only existed because the author didn’t want the female lead to suffer the pains of childbirth—so they used me as an incubator! In the end, the female lead would make a glamorous entrance, take over my husband and son, “redeem” them, and show them that truly kind women existed in the world. Then, their new family of three would live happily ever after. I clenched my fists. Whatever, I could let Carter go. We were just a business arrangement anyway; we didn’t have any emotional foundation. But Leo… I looked down at the obedient little boy standing nearby. Even though he had a face identical to his father’s cold one, he was still the flesh and blood I carried for nine months! I was not about to just hand him over to some other woman on a silver platter. So, I cleared my throat and asked him. “Sweetie, if Mommy and Daddy get a divorce, who would you want to live with?” Leo froze for a second. Then his little eyebrows furrowed again, perfectly mimicking his father’s cold tone. “Mom, please don’t make meaningless hypothetical assumptions.” I choked on my words. Looking up, I met Carter’s indifferent eyes. His gaze was like a stagnant pool of water. He stepped forward, bent down on one knee again, and lifted my feet out of the basin. “Don’t say things like that in front of the child.” Leo nodded, turning around and walking toward the door like a serious little adult. “I’m going to bed.” The live-chat comments erupted into mockery. [What is this villain thinking? The father and son are cut from the same cloth; they definitely find her equally annoying.] [CEO Vance can at least hide it, but the little heir practically has ‘disgust’ written all over his face.] [Lmao, forget about her not wanting to divorce. Even if they did, the kid would never go with her. Why would he? To be her little servant dog?] [Her only purpose in this story is to be a total brat, get abandoned, and die a miserable paralyzed death to give the readers a satisfying payoff.] My heart skipped a massive beat. Without a second thought, I snatched the towel right out of Carter’s hands. “I’ll dry them myself.” Carter’s brow twitched slightly, but in the end, he didn’t say a word. Lying in bed, I desperately tried to digest the information from those floating comments. I pulled up my silk robe, staring at my legs. They were so pale, so long, and so perfect. I absolutely refused to lose them! After thinking it over, I decided I needed to stop exploiting my husband and son immediately. According to the comments, I couldn’t stop the male and female leads from meeting. Even if I forced Carter to fire this female lead, they would just bump into each other at the next intersection. That’s how plot armor works. But if my son realized I was actually a gentle, loving mother, maybe when Carter and I divorced, he would willingly choose me. Just as I had this epiphany, I looked up and saw Carter walking out of the master bathroom. He had a towel wrapped low around his waist. Droplets of water trailed slowly down his chiseled chest. Seeing me lying in bed with my robe pulled up and my legs exposed, he paused mid-towel-dry. His eyes instantly darkened. I was still wracking my brain figuring out how to be a good mother. When I looked up again, Carter had already pulled out the “men’s battle armor” I used to buy for him from the closet. In his left hand, he held a black, lace-trimmed harness. In his right hand, a purple silk sheer shirt. The tips of his ears were slightly flushed. He stared at me with a wooden expression, as if waiting for me to pick one. The floating text before my eyes went absolutely feral. [Why did my screen just go black?! What is it that my premium VIP membership doesn’t allow me to see?!] [Villainess, I take back my insults! Turn the camera back on and let us all appreciate your husband’s massive pecs!] [Serena, share your husband with the class! Turn on the camera right now!] Amidst the barrage of thirsty comments, a few original book fans chimed in. [I can’t accept this. Even knowing how the kid was conceived, I still feel like the male lead is being forced. Can’t she see that her husband has a cold, miserable face every time?] [Exactly. The male lead clearly rejected her the very first time, but she forces him to wear these things every single night just to satisfy her weird kinks. So gross.] [It’s fine. Just remember that the legs currently resting on the male lead are about to be crushed into paste. It makes me significantly less angry.] I took a deep, sharp breath. Looking at Carter, who was just about to change clothes, I violently yanked the duvet up and buried my legs completely. “I… I’m not in the mood tonight! Let’s just go to sleep early!” As soon as those words left my mouth, the air in the bedroom seemed to freeze solid. The comments boiled over. [Oh? The sun rose in the west?] [The male lead’s face looks off. What kind of stunt is she pulling now?] [What else? She tried to force him to wear it and got rejected. Look at how his knuckles are turning white from gripping that lace shirt so hard. He is truly enduring humiliation for the sake of the family…] I noticed it too. Carter’s face looked absolutely terrible. Especially when I said I wasn’t in the mood, his expression visibly darkened by two shades. In the past, Carter was always extremely reluctant to put on these outfits, and I had to coax and pressure him into it. Right now, looking at the scrolling comments, I didn’t even dare to breathe too loudly. “Understood.” Carter’s voice was just like his personality—freezing cold. He casually tossed the clothes back into the closet, lifted the covers, and got into bed. I covertly pinched my legs under the duvet and let out a long sigh of relief. Thank god. They were safe. Goodnight, legs. See you tomorrow. The next morning, the sun was already shining brightly when I woke up. I walked out of the master suite and saw the large iceberg and the mini iceberg sitting in the dining room. The moment I sat down, Carter stood up to get my toast from the kitchen. Leo grabbed a heavy carton of milk, grunting as he waddled over to me. He stepped onto a stool, preparing to pour it for me. The comments started roasting me again. [This woman totally deserves to die. They have so many maids in the house, but she forces the male lead and the kid to serve her. She’s just looking for reasons to torture them.] [Exactly. She claims she wants the little heir to “develop a service-oriented mindset” so he won’t be a useless husband when he grows up. Does the billionaire heir of the Vance family need to act like a servant?] [She covers it up by saying she’s making the dad set a good example for the son, but she’s just a control freak trying to torture them.] My eyelids twitched violently. I quickly reached out and grabbed Leo’s little arm. Leo looked up at me, his face full of confusion. “I put a spoonful and a half of sugar in it this time.” I took the milk carton from his hands, poured it into my own glass, and took two big gulps. “Mommy can do little things like this herself from now on. You go eat your breakfast.” Leo stared at me. He probably couldn’t figure out why I was acting so out of character. But he turned around and went back to his seat anyway. Carter came out of the kitchen, looking at me with a slightly troubled expression. “We’re out of your favorite truffle mayo. I already asked Maria to go buy some…” I grabbed a plain turkey sandwich with one hand. “It’s fine. I can eat it without mayo.” The room went dead silent. Even the housekeeper was staring at me in utter shock. Carter looked down at his empty hands, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper. “Mom, you didn’t throw the sandwich at Dad’s face…” My son blinked in disbelief. I took a deep breath. Was I really that awful before? The comments answered for me. [Why did she suddenly change her personality? Isn’t her morning temper legendary? Last time they were out of mayo, she threw a massive tantrum and chucked the sandwich across the room.] [Look how scared our little Leo is. His stoic facade broke! He probably thinks his mom is possessed by a demon.] I took a bite of the sandwich, too guilty to look at the comments anymore. A small piece of lettuce slipped out and landed right on my thigh. Looking at my stained silk loungewear, I instinctively frowned. Suddenly, a tissue was gently placed over my leg, followed by a large, well-defined hand entering my line of sight. Carter’s hand was massive; it practically covered my entire thigh. My pupils constricted. It felt like I was watching my beautiful legs turn transparent, grow wings, and wave goodbye to me. I immediately brushed the lettuce off myself. Looking up, I crashed right into Carter’s icy eyes. “I can handle little things like this myself.” I forced a tight smile, then turned to my son. “From now on, you don’t need to massage my legs or pour my milk anymore. Mommy will do it herself.” Leo’s eyebrows twisted into a tight knot. His voice was cold. “Mom, are you sick?” I choked. This little brat! I try to be nice to him, and he asks if I’m mentally ill! I ate the rest of the meal in total silence. I didn’t throw a temper tantrum or demand anyone hand me a napkin or pour my drinks. Leo looked up at me several times, his little frown deepening with every glance. Carter’s gaze also swept over me intentionally or otherwise, before slowly looking away. It wasn’t until Carter took Leo and left for work and kindergarten that I finally collapsed onto the sofa. Looking up at the massive, floor-to-ceiling wedding photo hanging dead center in the living room, I massaged my temples. Truth be told, before I was set up in this arranged marriage with Carter, I had a massive crush on him. But he was a legendary iceberg. All of my socialite friends who tried to flirt with him hit a brick wall. I had my pride. I wasn’t about to lower myself and chase a man who didn’t want me. Let alone try to melt an impossible glacier like him. Just as I was about to strangle my little crush in its crib, the arranged marriage between our two prominent families tied us together. I still remember how secretly thrilled I was when we first got married. But then, I overheard a conversation between him and his friend, Ryan, outside his home office. “Serena Sterling is famous in our circle for being an absolute spoiled brat. You really drew the short straw, man.” Carter’s voice had been flat. I heard him reply. “We each get what we need. That’s how arranged marriages work.” The tiny spark of hope in my heart was permanently extinguished. After pretending to be a sweet, obedient wife in front of my crush for a few months, I completely gave up. I shattered the facade and exposed the most authentic, demanding version of myself. Whatever. Just like he said, we each get what we need. From the major appliances to the smallest rugs, I demanded everything in the house be styled exactly to my taste. Carter never cared. The only time he ever showed a reaction was when I insisted on hanging this gigantic wedding photo right in the center of the living room. He had frowned. “Hanging it here… it clashes with the decor. It’s ugly.” I was just being petty back then. He didn’t think the photo was ugly; he clearly thought I was ugly. But Carter’s cold personality meant his temper was surprisingly tolerant. He rarely argued. So, I escalated. I started ordering him around, making him do this and that. I forced him to wear clothes he hated, just to satisfy my own visual pleasure. Sometimes Carter looked unhappy, but his only way of expressing dissatisfaction was frowning. He looked incredibly handsome when he frowned. He already looked like a marble statue of a Greek god. I loved watching him frown—it was like a painting coming to life, finally showing a vivid, human expression. Over the years, he always indulged me and went along with my demands. Sometimes I even caught myself having the delusion that he actually loved me. But looking at that iceberg face, he treated the housekeeper with the exact same polite indifference he treated me. I knew it was just my ovulation cycle messing with my hormones, creating false delusions. “Maria, get someone to take this photo down.” I pointed up at the massive wedding portrait. I had hung it up full of joy and fantasy back when we first got married. It’s been six years. I finally see clearly that in Carter’s eyes, I’m no different from anyone else. Honestly, I can accept a loveless marriage. But the floating comments acting like security cameras, live-streaming what the male and female leads were doing right now, was driving me insane. [The female lead just poured the male lead coffee! He actually looked up at her! I ship it so hard!] [The female lead didn’t even realize she made a typo in the document. She’s such a clumsy little cutie. The male lead is definitely going to find her adorable~] I closed my eyes, deciding to take a nap first. When I opened my eyes again, thunder was rumbling outside. It was pouring rain. My phone buzzed. It was Carter. “Did you fall asleep on the couch?” His voice was flat. I hummed in agreement. After two seconds, he spoke again. “I have to work late today. If it gets too late, I won’t come back tonight. Let Leo sleep with you.” Before I even had a chance to agree, the floating text sped across my vision in a frenzy. [The male lead is working late, but our female lead is still at the office too!] [It’s raining, and the only people left in the building are a few extras and the two leads. Just thinking about it is so romantic!] [I love this power-couple dynamic! He’s a workaholic CEO, and she’s a career-driven woman. So much better than a certain spoiled housewife.] [Exactly. She’s scared of a little thunder and needs someone to keep her company. If her husband isn’t home, she forces her kid to do it. Is she a giant toddler?] Being roasted as a giant toddler, I let out a long, heavy exhale. “No need, you just focus on your work…” Before I could finish my sentence, I looked up and saw Leo standing a few feet away. He had a stiff, serious look on his little face. I didn’t know how long he’d been standing at the doorway or how much he’d heard. As I looked up, the perspective of the comments shifted for two seconds. My son didn’t say a single word. He silently took off his backpack, turned around, and walked to his room. Carter, however, spoke up. “The wall behind you…” I turned to look. Oh, while I was sleeping, the staff had already taken down the wedding photo. “Where is the photo?” he asked. I answered honestly: “I had someone throw it away. You just focus on your work. Hanging up now.” Carter didn’t say anything, but his face darkened instantly on the video call. I didn’t notice, though. I was too busy staring at the empty wall, feeling stressed. Should I buy a giant abstract painting to hang up there? It really did look bare and ugly. After dinner, the thunder outside still hadn’t stopped. I rubbed my sore eyes. When I opened them, the little boy was standing solemnly in front of me, clutching a storybook. “Let’s go. I’ll coax you to sleep.” Honestly, I wasn’t that scared of thunder. I just hated the gloomy, oppressive weather. So every time there was a thunderstorm, my mood plummeted, and I would find creative ways to torture Carter in bed. [The villainess is so annoying. Forcing a five-year-old to coax her to sleep. Talk about reversing roles.] [And she has zero self-awareness. The little heir’s face is completely stiff; he’s practically radiating disgust. Since the husband is working late and she can’t torture him, she starts torturing the son. Can the romance plotline please speed up?] I looked at Leo. The boy was expressionless, his wooden face a carbon copy of his father’s. “No need. Mommy can sleep by herself.” I waved my hand to refuse. Leo bit his lip, looking a little wronged. “But Daddy told me to keep you company.” I felt a headache coming on. Before I could say anything else, the sound of a car honking echoed from the courtyard. I froze. The comments were equally dumbfounded. [Why is the male lead back? What about the female lead?!]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “397498”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When it was time to head back to college, my stepmother shoved a cheap, off-brand carton of milk into my suitcase. “Take this. Drink it at school.” It was a leftover holiday gift from someone else that had been sitting untouched for months. My dad leaned against the doorframe. “I’m not giving you any money this semester. Didn’t you make $2,000 working your winter break job? $500 a month for living expenses—that’ll cover you for four months perfectly.” “You’re an adult now. It’s time you learned to be independent.” My hand, in the middle of packing my suitcase, froze in mid-air. Nearby, my younger sister, staring at her phone, suddenly screamed in excitement. “Yes! I got the concert tickets!” “Dad, hurry up and book my flights! And I want to stay in a five-star hotel!” My dad wrapped an arm around her, immediately agreeing to everything. My stepmother glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, the large hoop earrings she wore glinting in the light. The three of them huddled together, laughing as they booked flights and hotel rooms. I’ve watched this warm, picture-perfect family scene for ten years, and it still makes it hard to breathe. Suddenly, a notification popped up on my phone. [Chase Bank: Dear Ms. Harper Davis, your Certificate of Deposit ending in 1234 has matured. Principal balance: $800,000. To renew, please reply 1.] 1 A Certificate of Deposit? I silently counted the long string of zeros on the screen. Eight hundred thousand dollars. Assuming it was a scam text, I didn’t reply. “Dad, I was planning to use the $2,000 I earned from my winter job to get this mole removed.” My dad, Richard, glanced at the pea-sized dark mole near the corner of my mouth. “You go off to college and suddenly you’re full of wild ideas! Wasting money on useless vanity!” “You’re just like your dead mother—born with bad luck!” My stepmother, Brenda, wearing a thick layer of foundation, batted her heavy fake eyelashes. “Oh, Harper, sweetie. Wait until you graduate college, and I’ll personally take you to get it removed.” Before, they used to say: Wait until you finish middle school. Wait until you finish high school. Wait until you get into college. Now, the mole is getting bigger, and they’ve pushed it to: Wait until you graduate college. Actually, before winter break started, I went to a clinic to ask about the price. It only cost $2,000. For my entire winter break, I didn’t take a single day off. I worked from open to close at a fast-food chicken joint. Looking at my sister, Mia, happily humming a tune nearby, a knot of suffocating anger swelled in my chest. “Dad, you didn’t even blink before buying her a $2,000 VIP concert ticket, but you won’t even give me $500 for a month’s living expenses.” “I’m your biological daughter too!” My dad’s face turned beet red with rage. “You think you can lecture your own father in this house?!” “Fine! Since your mother has been dead for ten years anyway, I’ll tell you the truth today!” “Mia is my biological daughter with Brenda!” Brenda turned her face away, refusing to look at me. My mom died ten years ago. I am 18 this year; Mia is 14. My dad started messing around with Brenda when I was four. Back then, my mom wasn’t sick yet. She was a top-tier CPA at a corporate firm, and she was always incredibly busy. During those years, she would often spend entire days locked in her office. I remember she always had a look of deep, irremovable sorrow on her face. But the moment she saw me, she would automatically erase that sorrow, smile, and pull me into her arms. When I was seven, my mom collapsed. She spent a year lying in a hospital bed. Right before she passed, my dad held her hand. “Evelyn, do you have any savings left under your name? You’re leaving, but we still have to survive.” My mom was so emaciated her cheeks were hollowed out, her face completely devoid of color. She motioned for my dad to lean in closer, and then she spat right in his face. For all these years, my dad has held a deep, bitter grudge against my mom because of that. With a look of pure disgust, I pulled that cheap carton of milk out of my suitcase. Brenda turned her head back, looking visibly displeased. My dad slammed his hand down on mine. “Brenda was nice enough to pack that for you! How dare you be so ungrateful!” “She specifically told the rest of us not to drink it so she could save it just for you!” I struggled, but he clamped his hand down hard on my forearm. An intense, searing pain shot up my arm, making my scalp tingle. When frying chicken at work, hot oil frequently splashed onto my arms. My forearms were constantly covered in small burn blisters. Tears welled up in my eyes from the pain. “Did she save it just for me, or did she give it to me because literally nobody else wanted to drink it?” “If it’s such a ‘good thing,’ you should keep it here for Mia to drink!” Smack. My dad slapped me hard across the face. This wasn’t the first time I had been hit. I wiped away my tears and looked at my dad’s flushed, angry face. He is 45 years old this year. For all these years, I had clung to a desperate hope—the hope that my dad would eventually treat me a little better. After all, I am his biological child. I am his only flesh-and-blood daughter from his first marriage. I waited for ten years, and he hasn’t changed one bit. It turns out, I wasn’t his only biological daughter. No wonder. I kept my head down and continued packing my suitcase. The new semester was about to start, and I would finally be able to leave this house. But thinking about the pea-sized mole on my face, a wave of bitter sadness washed over me. I didn’t want to deal with people’s weird stares anymore. If only I had a sum of money right now. 2 I zipped up my suitcase and went into my room. Closing the door, the very first thing I did was turn on the light. My room doesn’t have any windows. If the light is off, it’s pitch black. There are five bedrooms in this house. My dad and Brenda share the master suite. Right next to the master suite is Mia’s bedroom. Of the other three rooms: one is my dad’s private lounge, one is Brenda’s walk-in closet, and one is a dedicated room just for Mia’s K-pop merchandise and posters. I live in the storage closet under the stairs. I’m not even worthy of the smallest, north-facing bedroom. Brenda pushed the door open a crack. “Harper, I washed some grapes for you. Have some.” The grapes on the stem were shriveled and dry. Earlier, I had seen Mia pop one into her mouth, frown, and immediately spit it out. “Ew, so sour! That’s disgusting!” The food she likes is never shared with me. The food she throws away is always boxed up with a smile by Brenda and handed to me. The second month after my mom died, my dad moved Brenda into the house. He told me to call her “Mom.” I couldn’t force the word out of my mouth. Brenda set the grapes down, pulled two crisp $100 bills from her pocket, and handed them to me. “Harper, things are a little tight right now, but take this $200 for now. Use it at school.” She had just gotten a new set of acrylic nails. They were blindingly red. I stared at her coldly. “Stop with the fake hypocritical act.” My dad snatched the money right out of her hand. “You spoil her too much! That’s why she acts like such an entitled brat!” “From today on, she isn’t getting a single cent out of this house! Let’s see if she still dares to talk back to us!” My dad threw the bunch of grapes onto the floor and stomped on them. “Don’t give her anything to eat!” “Let her starve for a day and think about what she’s done. Let her realize who the actual masters of this house are!” In high school, my monthly living allowance was $300. When I got to college, it went up to $500. During the first month of my freshman year, I spent $120 of that $500 on the cheapest, unreserved train ticket available. I had $380 left for the month. For the last week of that month, I survived by eating plain bread and pickles every single day. When I asked my dad for the next month’s allowance, he screamed at me over the phone. “Asking for money again?! It’s barely been a few weeks! Were you born just to drain me dry?!” “It’s hard enough for me to make a living, and you’re just sitting at school living it up on my dime!” “If you keep wasting money, drop out and go find a job at a factory!” Half a month later, I finally received the $500 he transferred me. I pulled a photo of my mom from under my pillow. As I stared at it, my vision blurred with tears. If only my mom were still here. Everything would be okay. The smell of dinner wafted in from under the door. I heard Mia’s excited voice. “Wow, Mom! You made so much good food!” Nobody called me to eat. I was dizzy with hunger. Because I never had money, I was used to being half-starved. Now, whenever I get hungry, my stomach physically aches. Mia spoke between bites. “Mom, your ribs are my absolute favorite! You’re the best, Mom!” Brenda’s voice was full of laughter. “Eat as much as you want, sweetie.” I crouched on the floor, trying to curl myself into the tightest ball possible to lessen the stomach cramps. My phone rang. It was Chase Bank. “Hello, am I speaking with Ms. Harper Davis? The $800,000 Certificate of Deposit you opened with us ten years ago has matured. Would you like to renew it?” “You must have the wrong person. I’ve never opened a CD. Ten years ago, I was only eight.” The voice on the other end continued. “Ten years ago, Ms. Evelyn Davis deposited a principal amount of $800,000 into an account under your name.” “May I ask, what is your relationship with Evelyn Davis?” Evelyn Davis. My mom. I gripped my mom’s photo tightly, lowering my voice. “Can the money be withdrawn right now?” 3 I tucked my mom’s photo into my jacket pocket, grabbed my ID, and walked out the door. Brenda watched me, nudging my dad. “Why are you arguing with the kid? Her biological mother passed away early; it’s normal for her to have a bit of a temper.” “Harper, come eat. The food is getting cold.” I looked at the meager leftovers on the table and shot her a look of pure contempt. “What exactly are you expecting me to eat?” My dad, having eaten his fill, was currently fiddling with his expensive tea set. “There’s still food left. You should be grateful you have anything to eat at all. Don’t be ungrateful.” “Oh, and when you’re done, wash the dishes and wipe the table clean.” I turned around and walked toward the front door. Behind me, my dad’s roaring voice echoed. “You ungrateful brat! Are you trying to climb over my head now?!” “If you think you’re so tough, then once you walk out that door, don’t ever come back!” Followed by Brenda’s slow, measured voice. “Where is she going at this hour?” “Maybe you should go check on her. Kids these days are sensitive. What if she runs away?” “Good riddance if she doesn’t come back! She’s 18 now anyway. I have zero legal obligation to keep supporting her!” I walked faster, their voices fading into the distance. I arrived at the local Chase Bank branch. The bank teller who assisted me was incredibly polite. She informed me that I had a principal balance of $800,000, and the accumulated interest over ten years was approximately $128,000. Right now, the account ending in 1234 held a grand total of $928,000. I stood there, completely stunned. The teller handed me a sealed package. “Ms. Evelyn Davis left this in a safety deposit box ten years ago. She instructed us to give it to you when you came in.” My hands were shaking. Inside was a letter, a key, and a property deed. I unfolded the yellowed piece of paper: To my precious 18-year-old Harper, How are you doing right now? I am so sorry, Mommy couldn’t be there to watch you grow up. Before Mommy leaves, you are the only thing I can’t bear to let go of. The money in this account and this apartment are Mommy’s coming-of-age gifts to you. If you are doing well right now, that’s wonderful. This gift is just the icing on the cake. If you are facing hardships right now, don’t be afraid. You still have Mommy. Mommy will always protect you from behind the scenes. You probably know about your dad’s affairs by now, so I won’t mention it. I will love you forever. Mommy. 2016. I read those few short lines over and over again. Without me realizing it, the paper was soaked with tears. My mom had known about my dad and Brenda the entire time. Ten years later, I finally understood the irremovable sorrow that had always lingered on her face. I finally understood why my mom refused to tell my dad how much savings she had before she died. I finally understood why she spat in his face. Now, it all made sense. My mom left everything to me. Ten years ago, she had prepared all of this for me. I tucked the letter into my jacket pocket, keeping it safe right next to her photo. I looked at the $928,000 balance on the account statement. Suddenly, I thought of how my dad had cursed and complained for all these years. After my mom died, he tore the house apart searching for money. But he found absolutely nothing. He took all his hatred for my mom and took it out on me. He even suspected my mom had an affair and gave the money to another man. He slandered her name for ten years. But he was the one who destroyed our family. The scabbed-over burn blisters on my arm itched a little. I scratched them gently. And then, I clenched my fists tight. This money was left to me by my mom. Nobody else was going to touch a single cent of it. 4 It was getting dark. I didn’t go back to my dad’s house. I typed the address from the property deed into my phone and caught a bus. When I inserted the key into the lock, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and turned it. The moment the door opened, a smart-home system triggered my mom’s pre-recorded voice. “Welcome home, my precious Harper.” Hearing her voice again after ten years, an overwhelming wave of grief and longing crashed over me. Crying, I walked through the rooms of my new home. Two bedrooms, one living room. The windows were massive, letting in so much natural light that you wouldn’t even need to turn on the lights during the day. I stayed there for two days. For those two days, my dad didn’t call me a single time. But I saw his posts on Facebook. “Taking my precious daughter to see her idol!” The three of them had concert stickers on their faces, beaming with excitement. When I left, I hadn’t taken my keys, but nobody even noticed or cared. Brenda posted a new update on her Instagram. “My ears are ringing from the concert! Finally getting some much-needed rest.” The attached video showed a sweeping view of a luxury hotel family suite. Mia’s TikTok was also updated. “I finally saw him live! Best night ever!” “Thanks for the support, Dad! Love you!” I clicked onto Mia’s profile and scrolled down. January 12th. “New phone! Thanks, Dad!” The photo showed the newest iPhone Pro Max. The screen on the budget Android phone I had used for four years was shattered. Fixing it would cost $30. When I asked my dad for the money, he told me he already gave me my living allowance and to figure it out myself. December 15th. “It’s getting freezing outside! Dad bought me a new winter coat!” I searched the brand online. It was a $600 designer puffer jacket. I was wearing a $20 clearance coat. Because I was always cold, my hands were covered in chilblains that still hadn’t fully healed. January 1st. “Dad sent me a massive New Year’s cash drop! Happy New Year!” November 3rd. “Got so many gifts today! Happy Birthday to me!” I haven’t celebrated my birthday since I was eight. Nobody cared enough to remember. October 1st. “Fall Break! Dad took the whole family out for a trip! So crowded but so fun!” During that break, I didn’t go home because I couldn’t afford the bus ticket. I stayed in my empty dorm room, eating plain bread and pickles for the entire holiday. … There were plenty of comments under her posts. “So jealous! I wish I had a great dad like that!” I locked my phone screen. I stared at the ceiling of my new apartment for a long time, then threw on my jacket and headed back to my dad’s house. When I reached the front door, I ran right into the three of them returning from their trip. My dad immediately started mocking me. “I thought you were so tough? Why did you come crawling back?” Brenda maintained her hypocritical, fake-concerned act. “Harper, where did you go? I was worried sick these past two days.” I ignored them and walked straight into my “room.” As always, I immediately turned on the light. I started packing up the rest of my belongings. I was planning to take everything that belonged to me and leave for good. I grabbed a duffel bag for my clothes. But I quickly realized that aside from a few worn-out shirts and pants, there was nothing else to pack. A ratty stuffed animal I had held onto since I was six, some ID documents, and a few textbooks. That was it. Those were the only traces of my existence in this house. I pulled my suitcase behind me, keeping my head down as I walked toward the door. I didn’t want to look at any of them, and I didn’t want to look at this house ever again. Brenda watched me. “Harper, your semester doesn’t start for another two days. Why are you leaving today?” I looked up at her. “Aren’t you exhausted from pretending all the time?” “Whenever I’m home, you act like my very existence annoys you. Now that I’m leaving, aren’t you thrilled?” I saw the flash of genuine disgust in Brenda’s eyes, but she quickly covered it up with an awkward, nervous laugh. Before my dad could raise his hand to slap me, I pulled my suitcase out and slammed the door shut behind me. I hadn’t taken two steps down the hall when I heard my dad shouting from behind the door. “Wait! Did your mother leave you $800,000?!”

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1 On the day I was set to give birth, terrified of the pain, my husband, Mark, and I had fully agreed I would get an epidural. To ensure everything went smoothly, I had paid out of pocket for an upgraded, private maternity suite and several pre-paid, elective medical options not fully covered by our insurance. I didn’t expect that the moment I was three centimeters dilated and agony was setting in, my mother-in-law, Sharon, would practically block the delivery room door, physically stopping the nurse from bringing in the anesthesiologist. She marched over to my bedside and slapped a car title transfer document onto my over-bed table. “Sign over the title of your Porsche to your brother-in-law right now for his wedding! Otherwise, forget about the epidural!” The labor nurse stood nearby, tapping her foot in frustration and checking her watch. “Ma’am, we need to get the doctor in here now.” But Sharon had dug her heels in. Until I signed that paper, no medication was getting through that door. Worried about triggering an emergency with the baby due to the intense stress and pain, I had no choice but to grab the pen and scrawl my signature. I thought that was the end of it and I could finally focus on delivering my child. But then, the fetal monitor began to beep sharply. The baby’s heart rate was plummeting. As the OB-GYN rushed in holding a consent form for an emergency C-section, needing an immediate signature to save two lives, Sharon spoke up again. “If you want a family member to sign that consent, you need to add my son’s name to the deed of your downtown penthouse.” Pale from the blinding pain, I looked at Mark, desperately begging him for help. “Mark, the baby is losing oxygen! Are you really extorting a house from me right now?” Mark looked incredibly conflicted, shifting his weight from foot to foot while holding my hand. “Honey, you have to understand, Mom is just trying to look out for our family’s future.” “Just nod your head, please! Otherwise, Mom swears she won’t let me sign these life-saving papers!” … Mark was actually crying harder than I was, as if he were the victim being coerced. “That penthouse is my separate premarital property!” I tried to yank my hand away from his, but I didn’t have an ounce of strength left. Beside me, the fetal heart monitor’s alarm became a piercing, continuous scream. “Her water is completely meconium-stained! The baby is severely oxygen-deprived!” The lead surgeon, sweat beading on his forehead under his cap, practically slammed the surgical consent form against Mark’s chest. “Any more delay and this will be a stillbirth! Sign it now!” Mark acted like a spineless coward, burying his hands deep in his pockets and letting the paper slide right off his chest and onto the floor. He turned to look at Sharon, pleading with her, “Mom, shouldn’t we save them first?” “Save them, my ass! If that house deed doesn’t have your name on it today, no one is cutting her open!” Sharon shoved Mark aside, acting like a brick wall blocking the surgeon. She pulled out a self-inking notary stamp and an “Amendment to Real Estate Deed” document, shoving it directly into my face. “Rylee, just press your thumb right here. The downtown place gets Mark’s name on it, and I will instantly tell my son to sign the surgery consent!” “This is extortion! I’m calling the police!” the labor nurse yelled, her whole body shaking with rage as she reached for her phone. “Go ahead and call them!” Sharon snapped, swinging her hand and aggressively slapping the nurse’s wrist. “Furthermore, this is a family matter! When the cops show up, they have no right to stop a mother from educating her daughter-in-law!” The pain was causing stars to explode in my vision. Tears mixed with cold sweat poured down my face in huge drops. “Mark, this is our baby! The one we fought through five rounds of IVF to get!” “How can you let our child suffer like this?” For this baby, I had endured over three hundred days of daily hormone injections, leaving my stomach a mass of black-and-blue bruising. During egg retrieval, I had screamed in agony. Mark had knelt by my bedside then, slapping his own face, swearing on his life he would spend forever cherishing the baby and me. Five years of supposedly unbreakable love—was it really worth less than a piece of real estate to him? “Honey, I’m hurting more than you are right now!” Mark sobbed, dropping to his knees by the bed. “But it wasn’t easy for Mom to raise me all on her own. She just wants some security for us.” “Just add the name, and I’ll sign immediately! I swear to God, even with my name on the deed, it’s still your house. I will never take a dime of equity from you!” Even as he was speaking these supposedly profound words of love, he was physically forcing open my clenched fist. “Honey, just swallow your pride for once. The nurses are already making fun of us. Nothing is more important than our family being okay and together!” Listening to this incredibly spineless speech, my heart went completely cold. “Fetal heart rate is down to sixty! Prep for internal resuscitation!” the OB-GYN roared at the team. “My baby…” I closed my eyes in despair, my mental defenses completely collapsing. For this piece of my own flesh and blood that I had suffered so much for, I couldn’t gamble. I couldn’t afford to lose. “I’ll sign…” The words had barely left my mouth when Sharon grabbed my thumb, practically grinding it into the stamp ink, and jammed it down hard onto the deed amendment document, leaving a clear, dark fingerprint. “See? If you’d just been this sensible from the start, we wouldn’t have this problem!” Sharon tucked the document away with a look of immense satisfaction. Mark instantly stopped crying, scrambled up from the floor, grabbed a pen, and scrawled his signature on the surgical consent form. “Doctor, quick! Save my wife and child! Use the best medicine!” Mark yelled. Several nurses worked together to lift me onto a gurney, pushing me at a dead run down the hallway. Just as the gurney was about to burst through the doors of the operating room, a sharp voice rang out. “Wait! Stop! She can’t go in!” The head surgical nurse came sprinting from the opposite end of the hallway like a track star, slamming her hand down on the gurney to halt it. “What is going on? We are out of time!” the lead surgeon bellowed. “The surgery is canceled!” The head nurse held up a printout of the billing statement, yelling, “The two hundred thousand dollar pre-payment in the patient’s hospital account… a family member just applied for a full refund and took the cash!” 2 “What refund?” the lead surgeon demanded, his voice dangerously low. I followed the head nurse’s pointing finger. Not far away, at the hospital’s billing and discharge window, Sharon was busy stuffing stacks of hundred-dollar bills into a black plastic trash bag. Mark stood right beside her, hunched over, holding the bag open for her. “Mark!” I used every last ounce of strength I had to scream his name. Below the belt, another wave of agonizing, tearing pain ripped through me. Hearing my voice, Mark flinched, and the plastic bag almost slipped from his grasp. Sharon snatched the bag away, hugging it tightly to her chest, and turned around to roll her eyes at the doctor. “What are you screaming for? Charging two hundred thousand to deliver a baby, this hospital is practically committing highway robbery!” The doctor was shaking with rage, pointing his finger at her and yelling, “That was the pre-paid emergency fund for dynamic complications, major hemorrhaging, and life-saving intervention!” “Without money, the blood bank won’t release units for transfusion! If the patient gets on the operating table and can’t come off, who’s going to take responsibility?” “I had three kids, all natural, total cost was like fifty bucks back in the day!” Sharon retorted, sticking her finger aggressively toward the doctor’s nose. “I asked around! A standard delivery is a few grand, max! You people are just trying to scam us!” I could feel warm liquid continuously gushing from me, and the bedsheets beneath me were already soaked red in a massive bloom. That two hundred thousand was my own money that I had pre-paid into the hospital account to save my own life, specifically for a catastrophic moment like today! “Mark…” I grit my teeth, shaking violently. “Give the money back.” Mark walked over with an expression of complete helplessness. “Honey, Mom says we need this money for an urgent emergency.” “Your brother-in-law is getting married, and the bride’s family suddenly demanded an extra two hundred thousand for the dowry, or she’s getting an abortion and calling off the wedding. Mom was completely frantic, that’s why she had to borrow your pre-payment fund for just a moment.” “Don’t worry, as soon as he’s married, I’ll sell my soul to pay you back.” I was so angry I actually started laughing—laughing until tears streamed down my face. Taking my life-saving money to pay for my brother-in-law’s wedding dowry? “That is my life!” I struggled, trying to grab his collar, but I didn’t have the strength to even raise my hand. “Without money, she cannot enter the operating room! Family needs to go pay now!” The head surgical nurse blocked the operating room door, holding firm on hospital protocol. Mark turned to beg Sharon, his voice pathetic beyond belief: “Mom, can we maybe just pay fifty thousand of it? Rylee is bleeding a lot, it looks pretty scary.” Sharon squeezed the plastic bag tighter against her chest and plopped down onto an open chair in the waiting hallway. “No money! Not a single dime!” “Her parents have money. A little bleeding isn’t going to kill her!” The medical staff in the vicinity were completely stunned. “You are recklessly endangering a human life! I’m calling the police right now!” The head nurse pulled out her cell phone to dial 911. “Go ahead and call them!” Sharon dropped to the floor and began slapping the linoleum with her hands, throwing a full-blown toddler tantrum. “Help! The doctors are conspiring with patients’ families to steal money! There’s no justice in the world!” Mark looked at me, his face a mask of total helplessness. “Honey, look at Mom. She’s completely lost it. Just look at this two hundred thousand as helping your brother-in-law out, okay?” “We’re all family trying to live a good life, what’s a little money between us?” Beside me, a nurse screamed, “Fetal heart rate is still dropping! Patient is in active hemorrhage!” I looked at the man standing over me and found him completely unrecognizable. For this baby that I had fought through five rounds of IVF to get, I couldn’t waste another second. Trembling, I fumbled under my pillow for my phone. “I’ll pay…” “I will use my own trust fund money to pay the advance!” Hearing this, Sharon, who had been throwing a fit on the floor, suddenly scrambled to her feet. “You little bitch, you finally admitted it!” 她 rushed over and aggressively grabbed my wrist. “Mark works day and night to earn money, and you have the nerve to hoard a secret stash behind our backs!” I screamed in pain. “Let go! That is my inheritance from my parents!” “Bullshit! You married into the Vance family, your money is Vance money!” Sharon ignored me completely, desperately trying to pry my fingers open. “Mark, quick! Come help! Get the phone! This bitch definitely has way more than a few hundred grand hidden away!” Mark stood there. He didn’t try to stop her. Instead, he just rubbed his hands together, looking at me with an expression of utter betrayal. “Honey, since you had money all along, why didn’t you just take it out earlier to help my brother?” “Why do you have to draw such a hard line between ‘yours’ and ‘ours’ within the same family?” 3 Sharon snatched my phone from my hand and violently slapped my face. “What’s the passcode! Tell me!” A searing, burning pain exploded across my cheek, and my vision began to go black in patches. “That is my life-saving money… in your dreams!” “Won’t talk, huh?” Sharon grabbed a handful of my hair, violently slamming my head against the cold metal railing of the gurney. “I’ll teach you to be stubborn! You don’t pay today, you can just lie here and die!” “Stop it! Security! Get security down here now!” The head nurse and several other nurses desperately rushed forward, trying to pull her off me. Sharon fought like a rabid dog, biting and scratching, single-handedly forcing several nurses back. “Mark!” I screamed in pure despair. Mark finally moved. He stepped quickly over to the gurney and aggressively pulled the thrashing Sharon back. “Mom, stop beating her! Rylee is still pregnant with a Vance child!” I gasped for air weakly, thinking that he finally had a sliver of conscience. But in the next second, Mark grabbed my right thumb and violently pressed it against the phone’s screen to use Touch ID. “Mark… what are you doing!” I tried desperately to shrink away, but I couldn’t break free from his grip. “Honey, I’m sorry.” Mark’s eyes were red, and tears began to plop, plop down onto my face. “Mom is stubborn. We just have to go along with her this one time. As soon as you pay the money and the baby is born, I promise I will sell my soul to make it up to you!” There was a soft beep. The fingerprint ID worked. Mark expertly opened my mobile banking app and tapped on the account balance screen. Both of them leaned over the screen, and instantly, they let out a sharp, synchronised gasp. “Units, tens, hundreds, thousands, ten thousands, hundred thousands, millions…” Sharon’s voice was trembling violently. “Three million dollars! You little bitch, you actually had three million hidden behind my son’s back!” Mark’s eyes went wide, and his tone actually carried a hint of self-pity and accusation. “Honey, your family gave you that much inheritance? You were hiding it so deep from me…” “Give me back my phone…” I was continuously gushing blood from below, and my consciousness was beginning to fade; only a sliver of primal instinct was keeping me holding on. “Give it back? You crossed into our Vance household; this is now marital assets!” Sharon immediately clicked on the transfer funds screen. “Enter the passcode! Transfer all three million to my son’s account right now!” The lead surgeon, sweat beading on his forehead, was pushing the gurney, ready to burst through the operating room doors. “Patient is going into hypovolemic shock! Are you paying the surgical fee or not!” Sharon whirled around, spreading her arms wide, using her heavy-set body to completely block the operating room entrance. “No, we aren’t paying! And she’s not going in!” “If this three million isn’t transferred to my son today, no one is doing any surgery!” The head nurse was shaking with rage. “Are you insane? That is a human life! This is literal murder!” “Bullshit!” Sharon spat on the linoleum. “She has three million and refused to help my youngest son in his emergency. She doesn’t care about family, so why should I care if she lives or dies!” “Mark, hold her face! Use Face ID for the transfer!” Mark looked at me, covered in blood, and then looked at the numbers on the phone screen. He swallowed hard, bringing the phone up to my face. “Honey, just blink your eyes for me.” “The second the transfer is confirmed, I will personally carry you into the operating room. The doctor said if we wait any longer, the baby’s brain will be irreversibly damaged from oxygen deprivation.” “Didn’t you love this IVF baby more than anything? Trading three million for our child’s life is a good deal.” Listening to this casually evil speech, my heart completely died. Five years of marriage, the love I thought we had—it was all nothing but a joke. “In your dreams…” I clamped my eyes shut as tight as I could, violently biting down on the tip of my tongue, using the blinding pain to force myself to stay conscious. “You bitch! Daring to close your eyes?” Sharon rushed over, using both hands to violently pry my eyelids open. “Mark, quick! Scan! Scan!” I desperately rolled my eyes, fighting against the phone screen’s facial scan. The pain in my lower abdomen hit me like a tidal wave. I finally couldn’t hold on any longer, and my vision was plunged into complete darkness. “Patient has lost consciousness! Fetal heart rate is almost gone!” a nurse screamed in despair. In this moment of absolute, life-or-death crisis… The elevator doors at the end of the hallway opened with a soft ding. A furious roar exploded down the hallway like a thunderclap. “Let’s see who dares to touch my daughter!” 4 “Rylee!” When my mom saw the horrific sight of me covered in blood and unconscious on the gurney, her vision blurred, and she almost collapsed. My dad rushed forward like an enraged lion. “What did you animals do to my daughter!” He swung his foot, violently kicking Mark square in the stomach. “Murder! The rich are getting away with murder!” Sharon saw this, but instead of being scared, she plopped down right at the operating room entrance, throwing a full-blown tantrum again. “If you beat my son to death, your daughter can forget about ever getting on that operating table today!” My dad ignored her completely, turning to roar at the doctor: “I am her biological father! I will sign! However much money you need, I will pay! Save my daughter!” The doctor, looking utterly panicked, shook his head frantically, tightly gripping that crumpled surgical consent form. “We can’t! The patient already signed earlier, and this agreement is a co-signature form with her husband holding joint liability.” “Hospital policy dictates that when the husband is present, his signature is required to override the previous consent and proceed with surgery!” “And the patient is actively hemorrhaging. The emergency pre-payment was refunded, and the blood bank won’t release units without funds!” My dad whipped his head around, staring with murderous intent at Mark, who was cowering in the corner. “Sign! Get the money paid!” Mark clutched his stomach, scrambled up from the floor, and immediately hid behind Sharon. Sharon’s eyes darted around, and she stood up, brushing the dust off her clothes. “My, my, you have quite a temper.” She pulled another document from her pocket and slapped it against my dad’s chest. “Want my son to sign? Want the money to save your daughter?” “Fine! Transfer thirty percent of the shares in your company over to my son’s name immediately!” “Otherwise, you can just stand here and watch your daughter and that little bastard die together!” “In your dreams!” My mom pointed a shaking finger at Sharon, screaming, “That is the business we’ve worked our whole lives for. Why the hell would we give it to you parasites!” “Don’t give it, then. We can just wait.” Sharon gave a cold laugh, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, looking entirely untroubled. “I’m not the one bleeding.” Mark peeked out from behind her, looking pathetic and aggrieved. “Dad, Mom, Rylee’s life is hanging by a thread. If I had these shares, I would have the financial security to take care of them both for the rest of my life.” “Just look at this as helping me out for the sake of the baby Rylee is carrying.” Hearing this unbelievably shameless speech, my dad was shaking with rage, pointing at Mark, unable to form a word for a long minute. A nurse screamed, tears running down her face. “Family needs to decide now! Patient’s blood pressure is down to fifty! If we don’t transfuse now, she really won’t make it!” My mom looked at my deathly pale face, and her mental defenses completely collapsed. “Honey, give it… give it to them! Rylee’s life is what matters most!” My dad had been a proud man his whole life, decisive in the business world, but now his eyes were red, and his hands were shaking violently. He looked at me covered in blood, his knees began to bend, and he was actually about to kneel down to this spineless coward, Mark! “Mark, I am begging you…” “Dad! Do not kneel!” I don’t know where I found the strength, but I suddenly opened my eyes and ripped out a raw, agonizing scream. My dad froze. Mark and Sharon were also startled by my sudden burst of rage. I grit my teeth, fighting against the blinding pain in my lower abdomen that felt like I was being torn apart. I slowly pushed myself up. I looked at my parents’ white hair, at the way they were humiliating themselves for my sake, and the pain in my heart far eclipsed the physical agony. Five years of compromising, five rounds of IVF torture—what it bought me was their escalated extortion and the humiliation of my parents. Enough! This bottomless, parasitic leeching ends today! I violently ripped off the fetal heart monitor leads attached to my belly! “Rylee, what are you doing!” Mark yelled, turning pale with terror. “I’m not giving birth.” I stared dead at Mark, pronouncing every word. “I do not want this baby anymore.”

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I was sitting at a long red light on my way to meet Caleb at the hospital, so I pulled out my phone to kill time. The top recommended post on Reddit caught my eye: [Life, Freedom, Love, and Money: How would you rank them?] The comments section was chaotic, but the vast majority ranked Money first. Only one comment stood out, completely at odds with the rest. “Love will always be my first choice. With love, everything else has meaning.” Someone immediately replied mockingly: “Another hopeless romantic.” But looking at that comment, a faint sense of agreement rippled through me. Of course love should come first. The love Caleb had given me had always been flawless. Amidst the chorus of cynical replies, the original commenter responded calmly: “If you were in my shoes, you’d choose the same.” “Last year, I went into acute renal failure. He gave me one of his kidneys. At the time, he wasn’t even my boyfriend; he was just my attending physician.” My heart inexplicably skipped a beat. Last year, Caleb had also donated a kidney. To a patient he supposedly didn’t even know. I had fiercely opposed it at the time, but he just coaxed me, saying: “Saving lives is a doctor’s calling.” My fingertips went cold. With a trembling hand, I scrolled down. “He only has one kidney left now, but in that department… he’s still so intense it’s hard to keep up.” The comment continued, “Broad shoulders, narrow waist. Every night he tosses me around until my back aches.” Attached below was a photo. Under the dim, amber glow of bathroom lighting, it showed a man’s muscular back. On the left side of his waist, there was a faint bite mark. It was the bite mark I left on him when I was eighteen, punishing him for getting into a fistfight with a senior who had a crush on me. It wasn’t until a chorus of honking horns erupted behind me that I snapped back to reality. I was still twenty minutes away from Caleb’s hospital. I abruptly pulled the car onto a side street and turned off the eng

Eight in the morning. I am sitting in our newly renovated apartment, fully dressed in my wedding gown, waiting for the groom and his party to arrive for the ceremony. But he never shows. His mother, pale as a ghost, keeps wringing her hands: “I’ve been calling him since sunrise, but he won’t pick up. His father drove back to their place to find him. He said he drank too much at the bachelor party last night and can’t be woken up…” Rage boiling in my chest, I grab my phone and dial his number myself. After several attempts, it finally connects. “Hello?” A weak, drowsy groan comes through the receiver, heavy with sleep. My heart sinks. I press the speaker button. “Liam, do you have any idea what today is?” “Hm? What day?” Frustrated, I yell into the phone: “Today is our wedding day!” Silence for a few seconds on the other end, then sudden alertness. “Wait? Since when were we having the wedding today?” 1 I can’t process his response. My only thought is: can he still make it on time if he leaves right now? But I know Liam Sterling too well. He dawdles for a solid hour just getting ready to go out normally, let alone putting on a suit, doing his hair, and the whole nine yards for a wedding. What if we skip all that? “Liam, go take a quick shower, throw on the suit in your closet, and grab an Uber straight to the venue.” I think this solution is standard protocol. I didn’t expect Liam to completely explode. “No way, man! Since when did we agree on having a wedding today?” “How am I just finding out about this? Did I even agree to it?” “Can you stop looking for trouble when there isn’t any?” Me: … I am gripping the phone, my hand shaking slightly. For this wedding, I’ve only slept four hours a night for a solid month. Yesterday, I was busy for twenty-four hours straight, not even stopping for a drink of water. But right now, I am so angry my stomach aches, and I feel like I might be sick. I respond with icy calm: “We had an engagement dinner. We picked out the wedding rings. We put deposits down on the venue. And you’re sitting there telling me you didn’t know we were getting married?” His tone is matter-of-fact: “Of course I didn’t know. Nobody told me!” The relatives standing around me exchange glances. His mother asks me carefully: “Claire… did you really not tell him?” I am stunned. How could I not have told him? I ask him: “Do I need to file a formal request in triplicate and get your signature as proof of notification every time I initiate a life-changing conversation?” But Liam acts like his logic is flawless. “Then what? Can you stop making me look dumb? No way, man… You handled this so unprofessionally, and you have the nerve to blame me? I’m completely baffled, okay!” “Out of nowhere, you just tell me today’s the wedding day? I never wanted a big ceremony! Is marrying me all you think about?” I feel a deep chill settle in my soul. But looking around at the living room packed with relatives and friends staring at me, at the bright, agonizingly festive decorations… I feel like I’m being roasted alive. Everything is prepared. Friends and family rescheduled their lives to be here today. So many people are currently sitting at the reception venue, expecting a party. And the groom claims he had absolutely no idea? I let out a cold laugh. “I get it. You aren’t ignorant; you just didn’t want to come. You are trying to ditch the wedding, right?” Liam hears the profound disappointment in my voice. He sighs, his tone softening a bit. “Claire, look, that was just my morning grumpiness talking… But seriously, think about it. I was up until four-thirty playing games with Luna. She wanted to play; I couldn’t just tell her no, right? Any day can be a wedding day. Is it absolutely necessary to do it right this second?” “Be good. Stop being angry; you’ll ruin your health. When I finally wake up, I’ll take you out for burgers and milkshakes, okay?” Me: … Someone nearby whispers. “Who is Luna?” “No idea. Never heard of her.” I take a deep breath, forcing myself to be calm. I issue Liam a final ultimatum. “I’m giving you exactly one hour. If you aren’t here by then, this wedding is off. Permanently.” Liam doesn’t explicitly refuse, but he doesn’t explicitly agree either. He dodges. “But I’m still not finished sleeping…” I feel hot blood rush to my head. I emphasize again: “Make no mistake. My meaning is: if it doesn’t happen today, it is never happening.” Liam is silent for a long moment: “Let’s talk after I wake up.” Then he hangs up. 2 I am sweating from anxiety, shaking from pure rage. Yet I feel a crushing sense of powerlessness, as if all the air has been sucked out of my lungs. I genuinely want to pass out just so I don’t have to deal with this nightmare. But things have to be resolved. I can’t collapse right now. I cannot lose control of my emotions. I look up at the people surrounding me. Their faces are all dark with anger and embarrassment. Especially Liam’s parents. They look like the sky just fell. Obviously, they didn’t expect their son could be this unreliable either. Actually, Liam’s personality had shown cracks long before the engagement. When his parents and I were arranging everything for the engagement dinner, I told him he needed to pick out his outfit ahead of time. But he was completely unwilling. He continued playing his game, not even looking up. He whined, “Ugh… do I have to go?” I thought it was just a joke. After all, during the entire engagement process, even though he was reluctant, he never said no. But what happened today is beyond ridiculous; it’s a living nightmare. For a split second, I even consider grabbing a rando on the street to be the new groom. But this is reality, not some dramatic fanfiction. How could I possibly find a suitable replacement on five minutes’ notice? Even if I wanted to, the other party definitely wouldn’t agree. What if I hire an actor just to walk me through the process? Forget it… besides being able to keep the cash gifts, there’s zero meaning. Things have progressed too far. There is no remedy. My wedding. It is completely ruined. 3 I have always been a strong, rational person. I hate letting others see my vulnerable side. So I fight back my tears, trying my best to keep my voice steady. I even keep a forced smile on my face. “Well, there’s nothing we can do now. The wedding has to be cancelled. Please spread the word.” Finished speaking, I open my contacts list and randomly dial a number. Very apologetically, I tell them the wedding is off due to an emergency. On the surface, I act like none of this is bothering me. In reality, my mind is complete chaos. I don’t even remember who I called, and I have no idea what they said in response. I just kept apologizing, apologizing, apologizing. The other end of the line goes silent. The entire living room is also dead silent. Expectant eyes are locked onto me, tonnes of weight pushing down on my shoulders. I struggle not to collapse, quietly waiting for the response. Suddenly, the person asks: “So, when is the next wedding?” I feel a slight unease at the question, but I instinctively reply: “We haven’t decided yet, but to make up for today, I’ll definitely take you out for dinner another day to apologize in person.” “… Okay… Well, what about you? Are you alright?” “Everything is fine on my end.” “But you don’t sound fine.” “Hm? Do I?” I let out a couple of fake, dry laughs. I vaguely realize this person is slightly strange. But right now, I don’t have the emotional bandwidth or time to analyze it. I make a few more brief pleasantries and quickly hang up. Seeing this, the expressions of the guests in the room all go dark. They start pulling out their phones to spread the news themselves. Tell the people waiting at the reception venue to just leave. The wedding checks and gifts will be returned. Quite a few people are audibly complaining: “What kind of mess is this? I’ve never seen a wedding like this before! If I’d known, I wouldn’t have bothered coming! I’ve never met someone so unreliable!” “I thought I was coming to celebrate a happy occasion, and it’s just miserable! If I’d known, I wouldn’t have bothered. This is a complete joke.” “Is it possible she got rejected and doesn’t even know? This clearly feels like she deliberately played us.” “Stop talking. His family is well-off. Maybe she was trying to force him into marriage with this whole thing. But the guy actually had some backbone; he firmly decided not to show…” I pretend I can’t hear any of it. I continue apologizing to the next person I call. And that’s when something even more bizarre happens. 4 The guests at the reception hall had just left, still complaining loudly, when a section of the hotel building suddenly collapsed. Fortunately, because everyone had evacuated in an orderly fashion, there were no injuries. Perhaps even God wanted to stop this wedding. I think if we are selecting the world’s most miserable person today, it has to be me. This event quickly makes the local news. By coincidence, Liam, who just woke up, happens to see the story. He forwards the news clip to me, proudly bragging: See? Good thing I didn’t go. That building was destined to fall. Just say it—if I actually went today, how many people would I have doomed? Look at my foresight! Honestly don’t know why you’re always so anxious and looking for trouble. You were so unlucky because you didn’t listen to me, haha. Having been busy for twenty-four hours straight, when I see these messages, a metallic taste rises in my throat, and I spit out a mouthful of blood. The pristine white wedding dress I carefully picked out over a month ago is stained with a patch of crimson blood. I stare blankly. My mind is a complete void, a humming sound in my ears. He is completely unhinged. So unhinged that even if I wanted to yell at him, I wouldn’t know where to start. I just toss the phone aside. Sitting in the empty apartment, I return to the mirror and continue undoing my hair and removing my makeup. But the few phrases he just sent repeat themselves in my heart, torturing me almost to madness. Only half my hair is undone when I finally can’t hold it in any longer and burst into tears. Abandoning all hope, I just yank the pins out, ignoring the pain in my scalp. My hand shaking, I type out: You are completely unhinged. Let’s break up. He replies quickly. Claire… stop being angry. I’ve actually done some self-reflection. I was definitely in the wrong too. When you get home, I’ll apologize and make it up to you, okay? Besides, it’s just a wedding. It’ll happen sooner or later. What’s the rush? You don’t actually want to get married right now anyway, right? Hurry up and finish your stuff over there and come find me. Haven’t you been dying for burgers and milkshakes? I’ll take you for a huge meal. It feels like a massive boulder is pressing down on my chest, making it impossible to breathe. Sooner or later… He actually believes I will wait for him unconditionally, infinitely, and will never leave him. What if I don’t wait? Will he suffer like I am today? But recalling his face, I can’t help but let out a self-deprecating, cold chuckle. No. He absolutely will not suffer. I can never, ever make him personally experience the pain I suffered today. And what I wanted wasn’t burgers and milkshakes. It was BBQ. Liam always forgets. The humiliation and indignation I’ve repressed for so long flood my heart simultaneously. Everything suddenly goes black. When I next wake up, I am lying in a hospital bed.

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The post-Thanksgiving holiday rush was brutal. Driving my fully loaded 18-wheeler, I merged onto the packed Interstate. On a continuous downhill stretch, I noticed a yellow school bus full of kids ahead of me. I proactively downshifted, leaving a massive, safe following distance. Suddenly, an SUV cut aggressively right into the gap between me and the bus. I honked my air horn to warn him—pulling a stunt like that on a downhill grade in front of a semi is practically a death wish. The driver ignored the warning and simply stuck his hand out the window, flipping me the middle finger. For the next few miles, he made it his mission to play games with me. He’d speed up, then slam on his brakes, intentionally brake-checking my heavy rig. For the sake of safety, I swallowed my rage and refused to engage. But I never expected this psycho to suddenly swerve across lanes without a blinker right on the next steep, downhill curve. Seeing that my massive grill was about to rear-end the school bus, I jerked my steering wheel hard to the side. Because of the sheer momentum, my rig clipped the rear of his SUV, sending him spinning directly into the steel guardrails. The chain reaction caught the surrounding traffic. Over a dozen passenger cars ended up crashing into the pile-up. I immediately jumped out of my cab to help. I had just managed to drag the SUV driver out of his smoking, crumpled vehicle when he turned around and slapped me hard across the face. “What’s your excuse going to be?!” he screamed. “First, you couldn’t see me? Second, your air brakes failed? Third, your job is so hard? Fourth, we’re all just trying to make a living?!” … That slap hit me so hard it knocked one of my teeth loose. I spat a mouthful of blood onto the asphalt and tried to explain. “You cut me off first…” The man standing in front of me just laughed. “Cut you off? Do you own the damn Interstate? You’re the only one allowed to drive on it? If I drive on it, you have the right to run me over?!” “If I wasn’t so tough, I’d be dead, and you think you can stand here and argue with me, you animal?!” “You son of a bitch truckers, you murderers! Seeing you scum who treat other people’s lives like garbage makes me sick! Why don’t you go drop dead?!” As he yelled, the man threw a brutal punch right at my face. That punch shattered my nasal bone. Blood immediately poured down, covering my entire face. But the man had no intention of letting me go. He grabbed me by my hair and violently smashed my head against the jagged, wrecked hood of his SUV. Just one impact left me dizzy and seeing stars. Jagged pieces of broken plastic pierced my forehead, the excruciating pain contorting my features. I tried to fight back, but it only earned me a more savage beating. He even kept screaming as he rained down punches. “Scum! Animal! You livestock who treat passenger cars like speed bumps!” “Think you’re invincible because you have full commercial insurance?! As long as I’m breathing, I’m going to destroy you brain-dead bastards!” The other drivers involved in the pile-up began stepping out of their cars. Seeing my face covered in blood, someone couldn’t help but speak up. “Hey man, let it go. We had an accident, we’ll just go through insurance. If you keep hitting him like that, you’re going to kill him…” The man’s voice instantly spiked an octave. “It’s exactly because of spineless cowards like you who just cry to your insurance companies that these truckers think they can get away with murder!” “If everyone acted like you—getting hit and just taking a payout instead of demanding justice—you deserve to get run over like a speed bump!” The chaotic scene went dead silent. You could hear a pin drop. No one said another word in my defense. Instead, their eyes filled with hostility toward me. It was the collective hatred reserved for someone who seemingly despised human life. The passengers on the school bus had evacuated too. The lead chaperone, a female teacher, stepped up to defend me. “Whatever happened, it doesn’t give you the right to assault him!” “Besides, I saw it clearly from the back of the bus! You were aggressively weaving and changed lanes without a blinker! You caused this crash!” The teacher was telling the absolute truth, but the man just raised his fists and marched menacingly toward her. “What does a woman know about driving? Say one more word and I’ll rip your mouth off!” 2. The man was big. Standing over six feet tall and pushing two hundred and fifty pounds, he was incredibly intimidating. The female teacher’s body trembled slightly. But she stubbornly stood her ground. “I’m stating a fact! If you don’t believe me, go pull the footage from the dashcam in his truck…” Before she could even finish her sentence, the man popped the trunk of his wrecked SUV, pulled out a baseball bat, and viciously smashed it into the grill of my rig. He shattered my windshield, reached inside to rip out my dashcam, and threw it onto the pavement, stomping it into a pile of shattered plastic and silicon. After doing that, he glared at the teacher with a vicious, warning look. She trembled even harder than before, but still insisted on defending me. “Smashing the dashcam won’t help you! There are traffic cameras on this stretch of the Inter… Ah!” Before she could finish, the man swung the bat and struck her hard on the side of the head. Blood trickled down her temple. The kids from the bus huddled together, terrified. The man ignored her bleeding wound and turned to address the crowd of angry drivers. “I didn’t use my blinker because it’s broken.” “But I slowed down and used hand signals!” “This bitch is completely slandering me! For all we know, she’s sleeping with this trucker!” “I say we make him pay up right now! Out of pocket! Otherwise, he’s going to skip town on us!” This animal was spouting absolute lies! He did slow down, but that was only when he was brake-checking me to mess with me! Right before he cut me off, he had accelerated, nearly getting us all killed! And the “hand signal” he used was nothing but a humiliating, provocative middle finger! “That’s not what happened! He’s lying!” “We need to call 911 and let the State Troopers handle this!” I pulled out my phone, but the man snatched it from my hands and hurled it violently onto the concrete. He jumped on it, stomping on it with his heavy boots. He didn’t stop until my phone was shattered into pieces, the internal battery and chips spilling out. Then he grabbed me by the collar and slammed me against my truck’s grill. “You think you’re smart, huh? You know you can’t afford to pay for this, so you want to call the cops to play the victim and get a discount.” “I’m telling you, no way in hell! If you don’t compensate every single one of us for our damages today, you aren’t leaving this highway!” The other drivers, convinced by his logic, began swarming me, demanding money. Even though I repeatedly explained that this chain-reaction crash was not my fault. And even if it was, I had commercial insurance. Any payouts needed to be handled by the insurance adjusters. But they refused to listen to a word I said. The man continued throwing gasoline on the fire. “You all heard it, right?! We almost died in a massive pile-up, and this bastard doesn’t even plan on giving us a dime for the repairs!” “Let the insurance handle it? Easy for him to say! There are over a dozen wrecked cars here. The damages are easily going to top a million bucks. What insurance company is going to pay that out on the spot?” “They’ll drag this out for a year or two! We’re all working people trying to feed our families! Can any of you afford to wait that long?!” His words were incredibly inflammatory. I was nearly drowned in the angry spit of the mob surrounding me. A few hotheads in the crowd, taking a cue from the SUV driver, started rolling up their sleeves, ready to beat the money out of me. Left with no choice, I told them I was just a driver making a delivery after the holiday. I didn’t have cash on me. The man, who had somehow climbed up the side of my trailer, pointed to the massive load of cargo secured in the back. “Then we’ll use whatever you’re hauling to cover the bill!” “No!” I shouted, rejecting his proposal instantly. The cargo in my trailer consisted of donated supplies I was transporting for free on behalf of a local charity. It was heading to a foster care facility. It contained enough winter clothes and supplies to last those kids for the next six months. If it was looted to pay these people off, what would the kids do? Besides, I wasn’t at fault! Why should I pay anything? But the man ignored me entirely. He ripped open the heavy canvas tarp covering the back and started pulling boxes out. 3. Riiip! The man violently tore through the heavy packing tape sealed by the charity volunteers. When he saw the cheap, bulk-ordered winter coats inside, his eyes filled with undisguised disappointment. “What the hell is this? Can’t you haul something actually worth money?!” With a look of pure disgust, he threw the box off the trailer. Refusing to give up, he ripped open several more boxes. Unfortunately for him, the boxes contained either winter coats, thick blankets, or cartons of used children’s books. “Fuck! Are you a damn garbage collector? Why is your rig full of worthless trash?!” The enraged man started hurling the boxes off the truck. They tumbled over the guardrail, rolling down into the deep, dark ravine beside the Interstate. My heart bled. This wasn’t trash! This was love and charity donated by good people for orphans! I tried to climb up the rig to stop him, but the mob of drivers, thinking I was trying to make a run for it, tackled me to the ground. They pinned my shoulders against the asphalt, refusing to let me move. A voice in the crowd spoke up ominously. “I heard these trucker guys are sneaky. They like to hide the high-value cargo at the front of the trailer and put the cheap stuff at the back.” “Why don’t you check the front?” My pupils dilated in sheer panic. It was true. The front section of my trailer contained highly valuable cargo. But it wasn’t trade goods. It was a shipment of rare, genetically engineered seedlings I had promised to deliver to the State University’s Agricultural Research Institute. They held immense, irreplaceable scientific value! If this scumbag found them… I didn’t dare to imagine. My breath hitched, and with a surge of adrenaline, I broke free from the men holding me down, scrambling on all fours toward my truck. But before I could climb up, they yanked me back by my ankles, throwing me to the ground and slapping me across the face repeatedly. “Motherfucker! Still trying to run?!” “Let me tell you something! Today, even if you try to run to the ends of the earth, you’re paying us for our cars first!” My face was battered and bleeding, but I still craned my neck and roared. “This is my truck! None of you have the right to touch what’s on it!” “Get the hell down right now! Or I’m pressing charges against all of you for armed robbery!” My eyes burned with a feral intensity. I wanted nothing more than to rip the man on the trailer apart with my bare hands. But he wasn’t afraid of me at all. Instead, he jumped down, walked over, and patted my bloody cheek. “Ooh, getting defensive. Hit a nerve, didn’t I? There really is something valuable at the front of this rig!” “Don’t just stand there, guys! Get up here and help! If we find a few boxes of premium freight, our repair bills are covered!” Hearing there was money to be made, several car owners scrambled up the side of my trailer alongside the man, brazenly rummaging through my freight. I was forced to watch helplessly as box after box filled with hope for those orphans was tossed off the truck, discarded like garbage down the ravine. My heart ached so badly it felt like it was bleeding. Looking at this mob acting like literal bandits, even though I knew the accident wasn’t my fault, I had no choice but to surrender. “Stop! I’ll pay! I’ll pay you all, okay?!” The man dusted off his hands and hopped down from the trailer. “Should’ve just said that from the start.” “Eighty grand. Wire transfer or cash?” 4. My hand, reaching for my wallet, froze. Even though I was prepared to be extorted, the sheer size of the man’s demand left me stunned. Looking at his rusted-out, ten-year-old domestic SUV, I tried to reason with him. “A brand-new model of that car is barely worth twenty grand. Don’t you think eighty is a bit much?” The man kicked me squarely in the chest. “Fuck you! I was almost killed by your rig! You think eighty grand is too much?!” “This is attempted murder! Attempted murder gets you life in prison! I’m giving you a chance to buy your pathetic life back. You should be kissing my feet, and instead, you’re whining?!” “Pay up! Or your entire cargo belongs to us!” In that moment, I wanted to stand up and beat this extortionist to death—the man who broke the law, pinned the blame on me, and was now trying to rob me blind. But I knew I couldn’t. The truck held not only the charity supplies but also the priceless agricultural seedlings. I couldn’t let the people who trusted me suffer catastrophic losses just to play the hero for a minute. Forcing myself to sit up, swallowing the agonizing pain radiating from my ribs, I choked down my pride. “But I don’t have that kind of money…” I was instantly kicked back to the ground. “Then what the fuck are we talking about?! Stop wasting my time!” “Keep digging, boys! This punk definitely has the expensive shit hidden up front!” The man climbed back onto the trailer, vengefully throwing more cardboard boxes over the side. I wanted to stop him, but with fractured ribs, simply standing up was an excruciating ordeal. The female teacher, who had hastily bandaged the bleeding wound on her head, helped me up. “Don’t panic, young man,” she whispered. “I already called the State Troopers. They’re on their way. These thugs won’t be able to act tough for much longer.” But I shook my head, pointing desperately toward the front of the trailer. “There’s a crate of scientific research seedlings up there! They absolutely cannot be allowed to find it!” The teacher’s eyes widened. She was just about to step forward to help me pull the crate down when the man on the trailer caught our frantic gestures. His eyes lit up with predatory excitement. “I found where this bastard hid the good stuff!” He rushed straight to the front of the trailer, pulled out the secured crate containing the seedlings, and prepared to rip it open. My heart leaped into my throat. The teacher who had been helping me stepped bravely forward. “Stop!” “That cargo belongs to him! What you’re doing is highway robbery! Aren’t you afraid of getting locked up for ten years in federal prison?!” The man just laughed. “Paying debts is the law of the land!” “Besides, this low-life crashed into me first! I’m doing him a favor by not pressing charges for attempted murder, and he wants to accuse me of robbery?!” The man’s sheer shamelessness ignited my rage. I gritted my teeth and shouted at him again. “I didn’t hit you! Your own reckless driving caused this crash!” The man lost his temper. He jumped down from the trailer, raising the heavy crate above his head, aiming right for my skull. “Motherfucker! You just won’t quit, will you?!” “A murderer acting this arrogant? I’m going to teach you the lesson your parents never did!” I didn’t dare to dodge. I instinctively reached up, trying to catch the crate to protect it. But the crate crashed heavily against my arms, splintering and breaking apart completely. The fragile University seedlings cascaded down, covering my head, my shoulders, and scattering across the asphalt. In that single instant, my heart plunged into the darkest abyss. The man looked down at the mess on the ground, his lips curling in utter contempt. “Fuck! I thought it was something actually valuable! It’s just a bunch of rotten weeds!” “If you had told me your rig was full of literal garbage, I wouldn’t have even bothered climbing up!” As he spoke, he vengefully ground his heavy boots into the few remaining intact seedlings on the pavement, crushing them to mush. Looking at the destroyed, irreplaceable research specimens, the raging inferno in my heart suddenly went terrifyingly cold and calm. I stared at the man standing in front of me and spoke, enunciating every single syllable. “You’re done.” “Even if you rot in a cell for ten lifetimes, you won’t be able to pay for what you just did.” The man completely brushed off my words, still acting like a tough guy. “What the fuck kind of crazy shit are you babbling about now?!” “Let me tell you right now, today you either pay us the cash, or you’re leaving this Interstate in a body bag!” He raised his fist, preparing to strike me again, when a thunderous roar echoed from behind him. “BACK OFF!” Without anyone noticing, a convoy of more than a dozen massive 18-wheelers had pulled up, forming a barricade that completely boxed the entire scene in!

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