Category: English

I have a rare RH-negative blood type. After becoming an adult, I used my blood to save 99 families. But this time when the hospital sent me a distress message, I refused. Just because when I was six years old, my mother committed suicide because my father had an affair. A medium told me that for my mother’s soul to find peace, a blood relative must complete 100 good deeds. So after becoming an adult, I joined the blood donation volunteers, all for my mother. Over these twenty years, I’ve saved young mothers hemorrhaging from difficult births, saved construction workers with steel rods piercing their chests, and saved little girls with relapsed leukemia… No matter how late the hospital called, I would always rush there immediately. This time, the hospital called me again. The patient had a sudden massive brain hemorrhage. In this city, I was the only one who could provide RH-negative blood. I looked at the patient information the hospital sent to my phone. Even though we hadn’t seen each other in years, I still recognized the familiar features in the photo. My chest felt suffocated and painful. I suddenly remembered the image of my mother dying with her eyes open. Taking a breath, I pressed reply to the message: “Find someone else. I’m not feeling well.”

Less than half a minute after I sent the message, my phone rang. The caller ID showed it was the director of the blood department at City Central Hospital. I pressed the answer button and put it on speakerphone. “Miss Antoine, please, I’m begging you. The patient really can’t wait!” The director’s voice on the other end was extremely anxious. “That child is only six years old. The brain hemorrhage is very serious. Surgery must be performed within eight hours.” “We’ve checked all the blood banks in the city. Only your RH-negative blood can save a life.” I stared at my mother’s photo on the table. My tone was calm, without any emotion. “Director, I told you, I’m not feeling well.” “If you’re not feeling well, we can send a private car to pick you up. We can give you a comprehensive examination first!” “Miss Antoine, this is a human life. You’re the most caring volunteer in our state. You can’t just watch someone die!” I laughed coldly. “Being a volunteer means I have the right to refuse at any time.” “I don’t owe you anything, and I certainly don’t owe that child anything.” After saying this, I hung up directly and pressed the power button. The room instantly became quiet. I looked at my mother’s gentle face in the photo, my fingers clenched tightly into fists. Just one more good deed, and my mother could find peace. But this hundredth good deed, I would absolutely never do for my enemy’s son. But I was thinking too simply. Less than ten minutes later, my backup work phone suddenly lit up. Only a few important clients and the community manager knew this phone number. I looked at the unknown number on the screen and pressed answer. “Is this Miss Antoine?” The male voice on the other end was extremely anxious and accusatory. “I’m a reporter from the state TV station. The entire internet is looking for you right now.” “The six-year-old boy with brain hemorrhage at City Central Hospital—why won’t you save him?” “Do you know your behavior is equivalent to murder?” I gripped my phone tightly, my eyes completely cold. “Murder?” “By your logic, that child’s biological parents murdered someone twenty years ago. Why don’t you investigate that?” I hung up directly and blocked the number. I opened my tablet next to me and clicked on the local news live stream. On the screen was the scene outside the emergency room at City Central Hospital. A well-dressed woman was kneeling on the floor outside the emergency room door, crying hysterically. “Please everyone, help me! Help me find that volunteer!” “As long as she’s willing to donate blood to save my son, I’ll kowtow to her!” I stared at that face on the screen. Even if she turned to ash, I would recognize her. Garcia. In the footage, a middle-aged man in a suit walked into frame. He bent down to help Garcia up, facing the reporter’s camera with a face full of indignation. “I don’t understand what this volunteer is thinking.” “The hospital said she’s donated blood for free ninety-nine times, so why won’t she save my son?” “If it’s about money, I can give her one million, ten million!” Gabriel spoke through gritted teeth to the camera. “A six-year-old child is lying inside waiting for his life to be saved. How can she be so selfish?” “I hope all the netizens can help me find this person.” “I want to ask her to her face if her conscience has been eaten by dogs!” The comments in the live stream instantly exploded. “This volunteer is disgusting!” “The ninety-nine times must be fake data. When it comes to the real thing, she shrinks back!” “Doxx her! Force her to donate blood!” “Right, we can’t let this cold-blooded animal get away with this!” I watched the screen full of vicious cursing, a cold smile appearing at the corner of my mouth. I’m selfish? I’m cold-blooded? For my mother’s reincarnation, I saved ninety-nine complete strangers who had nothing to do with me. But this family alone absolutely doesn’t deserve my blood.

Suddenly, violent pounding came from the door. I walked to the entrance and looked through the peephole. It was my fiancé, Jordan. He looked anxious, his suit jacket wrinkled from running. I opened the door, and he grabbed my shoulders, gripping so hard it hurt. “Antoine, what the hell are you doing?” “The whole internet is tracking down that RH-negative blood volunteer’s IP.” “Other people don’t know, but I know that blood type and donation record is you!” He frowned tightly, his eyes full of confusion and anger. “You usually save even stray cats. Why are you refusing to save a child now?” I coldly pushed his hands away. He had no idea about my past family affairs. He only knew I was a good person who loved doing charitable deeds. “I won’t save him. Jordan, mind your own business.” His eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s a human life!” “Didn’t you always say you wanted to accumulate blessings for your deceased mother?” “If you refuse to save someone now, can your mother’s spirit rest in peace?” Enraged, I slapped him across the face. “If I save him, then I won’t be worthy of seeing my mother!” “Get out.” Jordan covered his face, looking at me in shock. “Antoine, you’ve gone crazy.” “You’re going to drown in society’s criticism!” He turned abruptly and left, slamming the door hard. The room fell silent again. Just then, my tablet emitted a series of notification sounds—a video call request from a social media app. The caller was the largest local media account. I knew they had used hacking methods to lock onto my backend account. I could have just turned it off. But I didn’t. I wanted to see with my own eyes the desperate looks on those murderers’ faces. I turned off the camera and accepted the audio-video call. The screen split in two. One half was completely black, the other half showed the scene outside the emergency room. The reporter immediately handed the phone to Gabriel. “Volunteer, can you hear us now?” The reporter’s voice carried a hint of threat. “Millions of people across the internet are watching this live stream. Please give an explanation.” Gabriel snatched the phone, his face almost pressed against the camera. “I’m Gabriel, chairman of Gabriel Corporation. Come to City Central Hospital right now.” “Whatever conditions you have, I’ll agree to all of them.” “But if you dare make my son miss the eight-hour surgical window, I’ll make sure you can’t survive in this city!” Looking at this man who shared the same blood flowing through his veins as me, I laughed outright. “Mr. Gabriel, is this your attitude when asking for help?” Garcia suddenly pushed into the frame. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes swollen like walnuts. “Volunteer, please don’t listen to him. He’s just too anxious!” “I’m a mother. I’m kneeling before you!” “My child is only six years old. He’s so well-behaved and obedient.” “You can take my life if you want. Please save him!” I looked at her coldly. Twenty years ago, she also wore this pitiful appearance, begging my mother to let them be together. And Gabriel stood beside her, accusing my mother of being unreasonable. That night, my mother jumped from the eighteenth floor. Thinking of this, I spoke emotionlessly. “Karma always comes.”

The live stream comments momentarily froze. Garcia’s face instantly turned deathly pale. “What do you mean? Are you some kind of psycho taking revenge on society?” “My son has never hurt anyone. What did he do wrong!” Gabriel also completely exploded in rage. “You vicious woman!” “You’re using my son’s life to extort us, aren’t you?” “I’m telling you, if you don’t come today, I will dig you out and tear you to pieces!” I continued typing. “Your son’s life is worthless in my eyes.” “Save your money to buy him a coffin.” I disconnected directly. The internet completely crashed. #Cold-blooded Volunteer Curses Sick Child# #Gabriel Corporation Heir in Critical Condition# #Citywide Search for RH-Negative Blood Volunteer# These topics instantly dominated all trending lists. The netizens’ anger reached its peak. My work phone began to flood with text messages. All were death threats from unknown numbers. “Die a terrible death, bitch!” “I’ve already found your approximate address. You’re dead!” “This kind of person doesn’t deserve to live. The police should just forcibly extract her blood!” I sat in the dim room, quietly looking at my mother’s face in the photo. “Mom, do you see?” “The people who killed you are about to experience the taste of losing a loved one too.” At this moment, there were less than four hours left before that child would be brain dead. The director of City Central Hospital sent me another long text message. “Miss Antoine, the child’s heart rate has already begun to drop.” “Mr. Gabriel guarantees he absolutely won’t hold you accountable for what you said in the live stream.” “We’ve already arranged the best car and bodyguards to pick you up.” “Even if it’s for your own reputation, please come forward.” I finished reading the message and casually deleted it. I stood up and walked to the closet. Since they wanted to see me so badly, and the entire city was seeking justice for them. Then I would personally make a trip to the hospital. I wanted to stand outside the emergency room and watch that child take his last breath with my own eyes. Pushing open the door to the emergency room floor at City Central Hospital, the corridor was already packed with people. Everywhere were internet celebrities holding up phones live streaming, and reporters from various media outlets. Seeing me appear, camera flashes instantly lit up like a sea. Gabriel and Garcia immediately pushed through the crowd, desperately rushing toward me. So many years had passed, my features had long since matured. Plus I’d maintained a cold expression for years, my temperament had changed dramatically. Gabriel’s eyes were completely red. He only looked at the volunteer badge on my chest, not carefully examining my face at all. In fact, if he had been slightly calmer and looked carefully. He could have completely recognized from my current features his once most-despised daughter. “Volunteer, you finally came!” Gabriel excitedly reached out to grab me. I stepped aside, looking at him with utter disgust. “Mr. Gabriel, speak plainly.” Gabriel glanced at the dense cameras around us and lowered his voice. “It’s too chaotic here. Let’s go to the director’s office to talk privately.” I stood in place, coldly refusing. “Let’s talk right here.” “Didn’t you want the whole internet to cyberbully me?” “Then let’s livestream to the whole internet now and talk in front of everyone.” Gabriel’s face stiffened, a flash of displeasure in his eyes. But for the sake of his son in the emergency room, he could only forcibly swallow his anger. He waved at his assistant, and cameras from all the major media outlets instantly aimed at us. “Volunteer, whatever conditions you have, just name them.” Gabriel suppressed his anger, putting on the airs of a superior boss. “As long as you go in and donate blood to save my son right now, you can name any condition.” Just then, Garcia suddenly rushed out and fell to her knees in front of me with a thud. “Please, I’m begging you, save Nelson!” “Gabriel and I have been married for twenty years. We only had this one child!” “He’s only six years old. He can’t die!” I looked at her pretentious face, feeling nothing but disgust. Twenty years? The timing was perfect—exactly the year she forced my mother to death. I laughed coldly. “Married twenty years before having one son?” “Haven’t you two considered that maybe you’ve done too many immoral things and received karma?”

As soon as I said this, the entire corridor gasped. Garcia jerked her head up, looking at me in shock. Gabriel completely lost his temper, pointing at my nose and cursing. “How can you be so vicious!” “My child is only six years old, and you’re cursing a child!” The nearby reporters also raised their microphones toward me, and the live stream comments scrolled even more frantically. “This woman is crazy!” “If she doesn’t want to save him, just say so. Why curse people to have no descendants?” “No manners at all. How is this kind of person qualified to be a volunteer!” Just then, the emergency room door opened, and the lead surgeon rushed out in a hurry. “Mr. Gabriel, the patient’s blood pressure is dropping fast!” “If the volunteer doesn’t donate blood soon, it’ll be completely hopeless!” Gabriel was so anxious his head was covered in sweat. He could no longer maintain his image. He gritted his teeth, staring at me intently. “How much money do you want exactly?” “Ten million? Fifty million? Or a hundred million!” “Just nod, and the money will be transferred to your account immediately!” I looked at the indignant reporters outside, then at the live stream frantically cursing me for being shameless about money. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. The whole internet was curious about what I wanted. “Gabriel, if I wanted money, those 99 families I saved would have made me the richest person already.” Gabriel froze. The comments across the internet also instantly stopped. Everyone looked at me, wanting to know what I really wanted. “Then what exactly do you want?” Gabriel’s voice trembled. I put away my smile, my eyes completely cold. I turned around and pointed at the window at the end of the corridor. “For me to save him, sure.” “But I only have one condition.” I stared at the two of them intently. “You two, right now, hold hands and jump together from this eighteenth floor.” “Trade both your lives for your son’s life.” “Are you willing?” The entire venue fell completely silent. After a brief silence, the whole place exploded. Reporters frantically pressed their shutters, and violent cursing erupted from the crowd. “You’re an absolute lunatic!” “This is intentional murder. Call the police and arrest her!” Gabriel was shaking with rage, his pointing finger trembling. “What kind of psycho are you!” “Do we have a grudge against you?” “What deep hatred do you have that you must force our whole family to death!” Garcia had completely collapsed on the floor, pointing at me and screaming. “You have no heart! You’re not even human!” I looked down at them condescendingly, a cruel smile appearing at the corner of my mouth. “Deep hatred?” “Yes, exactly that—deep hatred.” “As long as you meet one person, you’ll know exactly what grudge we have.” Gabriel laughed in extreme anger, shouting loudly. “Fine!” “Bring that person here!” “I’ve done business honorably my whole life. I’ve absolutely never wronged anyone!” He patted his chest, brazenly making claims in front of the whole internet. Some people in the live stream comments also chimed in, saying Gabriel Corporation did charity every year. I looked at his hypocritical appearance and felt nothing but disgust. “What honorable business, never wronged anyone.” I looked at him coldly. Then slowly placed my hand on the zipper of my black jacket. Under the gaze of all the cameras and millions of netizens. I yanked open the zipper of my jacket. The jacket fell open, revealing the white T-shirt inside with a huge photo printed on it. The woman in the photo was gentle and beautiful—it was my mother’s appearance from twenty years ago, before her death. Gabriel’s gaze fell on the photo, and all the color drained from his face.

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The tiger “Charlie” was chewing raw meat, staring intently at a man wearing a baseball cap. Its thoughts echoed in my mind: [“This man reeks of a little girl’s blood. Very strong. He was here three days ago too. Back then, he had another woman’s blood on him.”] I whipped my head around, following Charlie’s gaze. The man was leaning against the railing of the viewing area, holding up his phone as if photographing the tiger. His movements were as natural as any other tourist around him. Charlie spoke in my mind again: [“He has a knife in his pocket. Metallic smell, very new. Sharpened just yesterday. I can smell it.”] The metal bucket in my hand crashed to the ground with a clang. Every visitor in the area turned to look at me, including the man in the baseball cap. Three days ago, a serial disappearance case that shocked the entire nation had broken out in the city. Three young women had vanished within a week—no bodies, no trace of life. The task force had turned the entire city upside down without finding so much as a strand of hair. But now, I—a temporary worker at the zoo—had spotted the real culprit that even surveillance cameras couldn’t catch.

I took a deep breath, pulled out my cracked-screen burner phone from my pocket, and dialed 911. “Hello, I need to report something! I’m at the city zoo’s tiger pavilion. There’s someone here who might be the serial disappearance suspect.” After two seconds of silence, the operator’s voice came through with professional calm: “Please describe the situation in detail.” “Male, about five-foot-nine, wearing a gray baseball cap, black windbreaker, dark blue jeans, white sneakers. He has a knife in his pocket.” “How did you discover this?” I glanced at Charlie, who was licking his paws behind the glass, and forced out the words: “I saw the outline in his pocket.” It was a lie, but I couldn’t exactly say a tiger told me. “Understood, ma’am. Please don’t alert him. We’ll dispatch someone immediately! Keep your phone on.” After hanging up, I leaned against the iron door of the feed room, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it would jump out of my throat. My name is Samuelle. I’m twenty-four years old, an utterly ordinary temporary zoo worker. A month ago, I came down with a high fever—104.4 degrees. I lay in bed for three days. After the fever broke, this happened—I could hear what animals were thinking. I’d thought the biggest use for this ability would be helping tourists find their lost pet dogs for spare change. Never imagined my first real case would be reporting a murderer. I returned the metal bucket to the feed room and walked to the employee passage of the tiger pavilion, acting casual while secretly observing the man through the one-way glass. He was still there. Phone raised, he took two photos of Charlie, then slowly walked toward the exit. Charlie’s voice came again: [“He’s leaving. Always like this. Watches for a bit then leaves. Does he like watching me eat? No. He likes watching blood.”] I clenched my phone, staring at that retreating figure with only one thought in my mind. Don’t go. Don’t leave. The police will be here any second. But his footsteps didn’t stop. I bit my lip, rushed out from the employee passage, circled around to the visitor path, and followed him at a distance. He walked unhurriedly, even stopping briefly at the monkey mountain to watch for a few moments. The macaques in the monkey enclosure went wild, screeching as they fled behind the artificial mountain. An old monkey’s voice entered my mind: [“Danger. This human reeks of death. Stay away. Everyone stay away.”] My stomach clenched violently. Even the monkeys feared him. Just then, sirens wailed at the zoo entrance. Two police cars stopped at the entrance, and four uniformed officers strode in quickly. The man in the baseball cap paused for just a moment. Only a moment. Then he removed his cap, ruffled his hair, stuffed the cap in his pocket, changed direction, and headed for the side gate. I panicked and broke into a run. “That man!” I shouted toward the police. “Black windbreaker! He’s going to the side gate!” The officers reacted quickly. Two immediately ran toward the side gate. But the man was faster. As if he’d already scouted the route, he twisted through a couple turns and disappeared behind the park’s landscaping. By the time the police reached the side gate, they found only an empty pathway. He was gone. I stood there, feeling as if all the strength had been drained from my body. An older officer walked over and looked me up and down. “You made the report?” “Yes.” “You said that man is a suspect in the serial case. What’s your evidence?” I opened my mouth, realizing I had no way to explain. I couldn’t say a tiger told me he reeked of dead people’s blood. “I saw a knife in his pocket.” I repeated what I’d said on the phone. The officer frowned. “Having a knife in your pocket doesn’t prove anything. Plenty of people carry folding knives. Do you have any other observations?” “He always stares at the tiger eating meat whenever he comes.” I pushed forward with my improvisation. “And the times he’s come match up with when the disappearances happened. I’ve worked here over a month. He’s come at least four times.” The officer’s expression softened slightly. He pulled out a notepad and jotted down a few notes. “Can you describe his appearance?” “His cap was pulled down low. I only saw the lower half of his face. Sharp chin, pale skin, thin lips. There’s a scar on his left wrist—very thin, looks like an old wound.” These were details I’d desperately memorized while following him. The officer finished writing and handed me a business card. “If he appears again, contact us immediately. Don’t follow him yourself. It’s dangerous.” I took the card and nodded. After the police cars drove away, I stood alone in the empty park, my legs still shaking. Charlie’s voice drifted over from the distance, lazy: [“He got away? Shame. I wanted to smell him more. That scent was special—like he buries his prey somewhere very deep underground. Earthy smell, rotting smell, and disinfectant.”] Underground. Earth. Disinfectant. I burned those three words into my memory.

Three days after the police left, there was no news whatsoever. The news said the task force was still investigating with full effort, but there had been no breakthrough. A fourth woman had disappeared. Every day at work I was on edge. While feeding the animals, I nearly poured the monkey food into the crane enclosure. My supervisor Giovanni yelled at me twice: “Samuelle, where’s your head? Make another mistake and don’t bother coming back next month.” I apologized with a forced smile, but my mind kept circling back to the man in the baseball cap. He hadn’t returned to the zoo. On the fourth evening, passing by the back gate after work, I spotted a skeletal orange stray cat crouched by the entrance. It saw me and meowed, but the voice in its mind made me freeze in my tracks. [“That white van again. It passes down this road every night. There’s crying inside. A woman crying. Muffled, like her mouth is covered.”] I crouched down, my heart pounding. “Which road?” I whispered. The cat obviously couldn’t understand me. But its thoughts continued: [“The dead-end road out back. The van drives to the abandoned factory at the end and stops. Always around midnight. Always stays for about an hour. Then the van leaves and the crying stops.”] Abandoned factory. I knew that place. Behind the zoo was an old industrial area, abandoned for years, with half the walls collapsed. I stood up, legs trembling, but my mind was unusually clear. I pulled out my phone, found the police officer’s business card, and called. “Hello, Officer Clinton? This is Samuelle from the zoo. I have a new lead.” Clinton clearly paused. “What lead?” “The dead-end road behind the zoo. There’s an abandoned factory at the end. Recently, every night around midnight, a white van goes there, stays about an hour, then leaves.” “How do you know this?” “I get off work late. I’ve heard the commotion.” Another lie. Clinton was silent for a few seconds. “I’ve noted it. I’ll report it up the chain. Don’t go to that place yourself, understand?” “Understood.” After hanging up, I stood under the streetlight, staring at the dark abandoned factory area in the distance. Of course I wouldn’t go there myself. I’m not suicidal. But that night I couldn’t sleep. Lying on the hard board bed in my rental room, tossing and turning, my mind filled with everything Charlie had said. Earthy smell. Rotting smell. Disinfectant. Underground. The fourth missing girl was only nineteen years old. The news had shown her photo. Round face, ponytail, two dimples when she smiled. I closed my eyes, and that face floated in the darkness. The next morning, before I even reached the zoo, my phone rang with an unknown number. “Samuelle?” A male voice, deep, with an undeniable authoritative pressure. “Speaking. Who is this?” “Criminal Investigation Division. George. Regarding the lead you provided yesterday, I need you to come in.” The Criminal Investigation Division’s office building was older than I’d imagined. The hallways were plastered with wanted posters and anti-fraud flyers. Someone walking past looked at me curiously. I was led to an office at the end of the third floor. The door plate read “Major Crimes Unit.” Pushing the door open, a man stood facing a whiteboard, his back to me. The whiteboard was covered with photos, maps, and red connecting lines. He turned around. Very tall, broad shoulders, wearing a dark gray shirt with sleeves rolled to his forearms. Deep-set features, prominent brow bone, slightly sunken eye sockets. When his gaze landed on me, it felt like two knives. “Sit.” He pointed to a chair by the desk, then sat down himself and opened a file folder. “Samuelle. Twenty-four years old. Local resident. Associate degree. Currently employed as a temporary keeper at the city zoo. Last week, reported spotting a possible serial case suspect at the tiger pavilion. Failed to apprehend on scene. Yesterday, provided a lead about an abandoned factory.” He raised his eyes to look at me. “What’s your source?” “I get off work late. I heard it while passing by.” “From the zoo’s back gate to that dead-end road is an 800-meter walk. You take that route after work?” “It’s a shortcut.” “Your rental is in the east district. The zoo is in the west. Taking the back gate is the long way around.” I was stumped. George closed the file folder, leaned back in his chair, and stared at me. That gaze made me feel like I’d been stripped naked and thrown under a spotlight. “Samuelle, I don’t have time to dance around. Both leads you provided have value. First, the man at the tiger pavilion—we reviewed surveillance and confirmed he appeared near the zoo before and after all four incidents. Second, the abandoned factory—we sent people to stake it out last night. A white van did appear, but it turned around before entering the area.” He paused. “This tells us two things. First, your information is accurate. Second, the suspect may have already noticed someone’s paying attention. He’s cautious.” Cold sweat broke out on my back. “So I need to know,” George’s voice dropped half a tone, “exactly how you discovered these things. A temporary zoo worker with no investigation training background, yet you’ve provided consecutive valid leads. Either you’re a genius, or you have an information channel I don’t know about.” I sat in that hard chair, palms drenched with sweat. Tell the truth? Say I can understand what animals are thinking? He’d think I’m insane. Don’t tell the truth? He’s already caught me lying.

The silence lasted about ten seconds. George didn’t rush me. He just watched me like a leopard stalking prey—patient. Finally, I made a decision. “Captain George,” I said, “if I tell you something that sounds really absurd, can you not call a psychiatrist right away?” His eyebrow moved slightly. “Speak.” “I can understand what animals are saying.” The office went silent for a full five seconds. George’s expression didn’t change. No mockery, no surprise, not even confusion. He just stared at me, as if evaluating the credibility of intelligence. “Continue.” “At the tiger pavilion, the tiger told me. It said that man reeked of blood—another woman’s blood. Yesterday’s lead came from a stray cat by the zoo’s back gate. It sees that white van every night. There’s a woman crying inside.” When I finished, I felt like a defendant making a final statement in court. George was silent for a long time. Then he stood up, walked to the door, closed it, and came back to sit down. “This ability you’re describing—is there a way to verify it on the spot?” I froze, then nodded. “Any animal will do.” George picked up the radio on his desk. “Johnson, bring Paul to my office.” Less than two minutes later, the door opened. A young officer led a black Labrador inside. The dog’s tail started wagging like a propeller the moment it entered, nose pressed to the ground, sniffing everywhere. Its voice immediately flooded my mind: [“Captain George’s office! Smells like coffee! And that suspect’s shoe sole from yesterday—mud plus gasoline. Wait, who’s this woman? She smells like tigers. So cool.”] I couldn’t help the twitch at the corner of my mouth. “His name is Paul?” I asked. The young officer nodded. “Right. Drug detection dog. Three years old.” I looked at Paul. He was pawing at George’s pant leg. [“Captain George, do you have beef treats in your pocket? I smell them! Give me one, just one! I did great today. Found three targets at the training ground.”] I turned to George. “He says you have beef treats in your pocket and wants one. He says he did great today and found three targets at the training ground.” George’s hand paused. He actually reached into his pocket and pulled out a small sealed bag of beef treats. The young officer’s eyes went wide. “Captain George, since when do you carry snacks?” George ignored him, his gaze fixed on me. His expression had changed. No longer scrutiny, but something I couldn’t quite read. “Johnson, out. Leave Paul.” The bewildered young officer was shooed out. After the door closed, George tossed the bag of beef treats to Paul, then crossed his hands on the desk and looked at me. “Samuelle, I’m giving you two choices now.” “First, you walk out that door, go back to being a keeper, and we pretend today’s conversation never happened.” “Second, you stay as an investigative consultant and help me solve this case.” I looked into his eyes. Paul was crunching happily on beef treats beside us, his mind full of blissful fireworks. “Is there pay?” I asked. The corner of George’s mouth moved almost imperceptibly. “External consultant standard. Three hundred a day.” Three hundred a day. I made three thousand a month at the zoo. “I choose the second.” From that day on, my life completely changed. Daytime at the zoo working normally, evenings “overtime” at the Criminal Investigation Division. George arranged a temporary workstation for me in the corner of the Major Crimes office, next to a stack of old case files no one read. At first, everyone in Major Crimes looked at me like I was an exotic animal. An old detective named Patterson, fortyish, beer belly, voice loud enough to shatter glass. On the first day, right in front of everyone, he asked George: “Captain, who’s this girl? New intern? Doesn’t look like police academy.” George didn’t look up. “External consultant.” “Consultant?” Patterson looked me up and down. “Consulting on what? Feeding fish?” A few others suppressed laughter. I said nothing. George didn’t defend me either. That’s the kind of person he was. No explanations, no protection. He’d wait for me to prove myself. The chance to prove myself came quickly.

That evening, the task force held a briefing. The whiteboard displayed photos of four missing women, with dense timelines and location markers below. George stood in front of the whiteboard, voice cold and hard: “Current information. Four victims, ages nineteen to twenty-six, all living alone. Disappearances concentrated between 9 and 11 PM. Disappearance locations scattered across four different city districts with no obvious geographic pattern. Crimes committed in surveillance blind spots. No witnesses. No physical evidence.” He paused. “The only lead is a suspect description and possible hiding place provided by a citizen. But the suspect is already alert. No vehicles appeared at the abandoned factory last night.” Patterson leaned back in his chair, voice gruff. “Is that citizen’s lead reliable? Could be some internet sleuth who watches too many crime dramas.” I sat in the corner, head down, pretending to look at my phone. George’s gaze swept over, pausing on me for a moment, then moving on. “The lead has been preliminarily verified and has some credibility. But it’s not enough. We need more.” After the meeting ended, everyone dispersed. I still sat in the corner, unmoving. George walked over and placed a photo in front of me. The photo showed a street with several parked cars along the roadside. The image was blurry. “This is the only surveillance footage near the abandoned factory. White van. License plate obscured by mud. We can only see the last digit is a 7.” I stared at the photo, heart sinking. “Tomorrow,” George said, “go around the abandoned factory area.” “Didn’t you say it’s dangerous there?” “Go during the day. Take Paul.” He placed a leash on the desk. “See what the stray animals in that area can tell you.” I picked up the leash and nodded. The next day was my day off. Early in the morning, I set out with Paul. Paul was thrilled, his mind full of: [“Going out! Going out! Not a park but so many new smells! That tree over there—three cats peed on it, one dog peed on it, and a human male peed on it about three days ago.”] I dragged him forward wordlessly. The abandoned factory was about a kilometer behind the zoo, in an old industrial area. Half the walls had collapsed, weeds growing from cement cracks over six feet tall. In daylight it didn’t look scary, just desolate. I didn’t enter the grounds, just slowly walked along the perimeter road. Paul’s nose was pressed to the ground when he suddenly stopped. His tail stopped wagging. [“Blood. Old blood. Underground. Very deep. And disinfectant smell. Same smell as that suspect’s shoe soles in Captain George’s office that day.”] My feet felt nailed to the ground. “Where?” I whispered, though I knew he couldn’t understand. Paul walked a few steps toward the northeast corner of the factory area, then sat down and looked up at me. This was a drug detection dog’s alert posture. I memorized the location and quickly led Paul away. Only when we reached the road outside the factory did I dare pull out my phone and message George. “Northeast corner of factory area. Underground. Paul reacted.” The reply was almost instant: “Received. Don’t approach again. Come back.” I led Paul back. Passing a small alley, a three-legged black cat crouched at the entrance. Seeing Paul, it arched its back and hissed. Its voice entered my mind, sharp and thin: [“Get lost, dog. This is my territory. That human who drives here at midnight is annoying enough. Now a dog too.”] I stopped. [“That human always brings a big bag. Very heavy, carries it on his shoulder. Has the bag going in, nothing coming out. The smell underground is getting stronger. I don’t even dare catch rats over there anymore.”] I crouched down, pretending to tie my shoe, actually frantically memorizing every detail. Big bag. Carries it in, comes out empty-handed. The smell underground is getting stronger. When I stood up, my legs were weak.

That afternoon, I returned to the Criminal Investigation Division and told George everything. After listening, he was silent for a long time, then picked up the phone: “Notify the tech team. Prepare underground detection equipment. Operation at dawn tomorrow.” Hanging up, he looked at me. “You’re staying at the station tonight. Don’t go anywhere.” “Why?” “If that person really noticed someone’s paying attention to the abandoned factory, he might want to know who. You’ve filed a police report and appeared in that area.” My blood went cold. George saw my fear and, rarely, added a sentence: “Major Crimes has a duty room. Sleep there tonight.” That night, lying on the hard cot in the duty room, listening to occasional footsteps in the hallway, I didn’t sleep a wink. At 4 AM, urgent footsteps and lowered voices suddenly echoed in the hallway. I bolted upright and pushed open the door. In the hallway, George was striding out, wearing a bulletproof vest with a gun at his waist. Seeing me, his steps didn’t slow. “Go back to sleep.” “Did you find it?” He didn’t answer. He’d already disappeared at the stairwell. I stood in the hallway, wrapped in that thin blanket, and waited for four hours. At 8 AM, the Major Crimes team gradually returned. Everyone’s face looked terrible. When Patterson passed me, that usually carefree face showed no expression. He walked into the office, threw his bulletproof vest on the desk, sat down, and covered his face with both hands. I stood in the doorway, not daring to enter. Half an hour later, George returned. His shirt was stained with dirt, his face ashen. Walking to the whiteboard, he removed the four photos of the missing women one by one and moved them to the other side of the board. Then he picked up a red marker and wrote “DECEASED” under each photo. Four people. All killed. The bodies were buried in the basement at the northeast corner of the abandoned factory. I leaned against the doorframe, stomach churning. George turned around, saw me, and walked over. He stood in front of me, looking down, eyes bloodshot. “Your lead was correct.” His voice was hoarse as sandpaper. “Basement. Four bodies. Times of death match the disappearance times. However.” He paused. “We didn’t catch him. No suspect in the factory. No van appeared. The scene was cleaned. Almost no usable trace evidence left.” My heart sank to the bottom. “He knew we were coming?” “Very likely.” George’s jaw tightened. “He’s more cautious than we imagined. The only thing recovered from the scene was a footprint. Size ten running shoe, matches the white sneakers you described. But it’s not enough.” He looked at me, gaze heavy. “Samuelle, this case is much harder than we anticipated.” The following week, the task force hit a dead end. The suspect seemed to have evaporated. Never appeared at the zoo again. No activity around the abandoned factory either. Surveillance, canvassing, screening—all conventional methods were used. Nothing. That man in the baseball cap had dissolved like a drop of water into the ocean. Every day I went to the zoo as usual, then sat at the Criminal Investigation Division after work. But without new leads, I was just furniture. Patterson’s attitude toward me shifted from initial dismissal to a strange courtesy. He no longer mocked me to my face, but he didn’t talk to me either. Once, getting water in the break room, I heard him quietly telling another colleague: “That girl, uncanny. She said there’s something underground, and there really was. Where did Captain George even find her?” The colleague asked: “What’s her background really?” Patterson shook his head. “Don’t know. Captain George won’t say. Who dares ask?” I retreated to my corner with my water cup. On the eighth day, a breakthrough came. Not from an animal, but from a person. That afternoon, I was cleaning the aviary at the zoo. The aviary housed dozens of parrots, mynahs, and thrushes. Usually noisy as hell, their minds full of “food,” “that female bird is pretty,” “I want out”—that sort of nonsense. But that day, a gray African Grey parrot suddenly went quiet, tilting its head and staring outside the aviary. Its thoughts were much clearer than other birds: [“That person’s back. Last time he came, he stood here and made a phone call. He said, ‘Move the stuff to the old place, under the third bridge opening by the river.’ I remembered because his voice is ugly, like a crow.”] The broom in my hand nearly fell. I followed the parrot’s line of sight. On the path outside the aviary, a man was walking leisurely past. Not the baseball cap man. This person wore a checkered shirt, glasses, slightly overweight—looked like an ordinary middle-aged office worker. But the parrot said he’d made a phone call here last time. “Move the stuff to the old place, under the third bridge opening by the river.” I put down the broom, pretended to take out trash, and followed the checkered shirt man at a distance. He stopped in front of the monkey mountain, pulled out his phone, and dialed a number. I couldn’t get close enough to hear what he said. But the old monkey in the monkey enclosure could. [“This human is talking. He says, ‘Is it clean?’ Can’t hear what the other side said. Then he says, ‘Good, I’ve already chosen the next target. Lives near the zoo.’”] My blood froze. The next target lives near the zoo. I turned and walked away, practically running back to the feed room, pulling out my phone to call George. “Captain George, new development. The suspect might not be working alone. There’s an accomplice.”

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The anesthesia had just worn off when my werewolf’s keen hearing picked up the conversation outside the door. “Once she’s completely unable to have children, I’ll strip her of her Luna position. Then all of White Moon Pack’s resources and money will be ours.” “Besides, the Council of Elders only recognizes whoever gives birth to an Alpha pup first. Lena, once you bear my child, you’ll be the Luna of Black Rock Pack.” “You’re so good to me, Kane! I’ll give you the smartest pup!” Outside the door were my husband Kane and his delicate Omega first love, Lena. I lay in the hospital bed, my whole body cold. In the five years since our marriage, three pregnancies had ended in miscarriage. I had always thought it was my poor constitution. To protect the pregnancies, I had put my Columbia doctoral research on hold and poured all of White Moon Pack’s resources into filling the holes in his corporation. It turned out that the Alpha I’d loved for five years had been plotting against me, against my children all along, and wanted to steal my family fortune and destroy my future. In the last second before I lost consciousness, my mind was filled with nothing but hatred. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn to the day of my first miscarriage. Kane was sitting by the bed, pretending to comfort me with reddened eyes. “Ayla, don’t be sad. We can have another child. I’ve already postponed your doctoral defense for you. Just focus on recovering.” I suddenly slapped him across the face. “Kane, I want a divorce.”

Kane’s expression visibly stiffened. “Ayla, I know you just had a miscarriage and your emotions are unstable. I won’t hold this slap against you.” He reached out to hold my hand. “But I’ll pretend you didn’t mean what you said about divorce.” I shook off his hand and shifted away, wanting to distance myself from him. Kane continued talking to himself. “Be reasonable. The alliance between our two packs isn’t something you can just end. Don’t you care about the corporation’s stock price or our people’s reputation?” “Besides, you’re about to graduate with your doctorate. If you divorce now, what will people think of you? Are you willing to throw away your bright future?” “It’s just one child. We can have more.” I looked at him coldly, finding it utterly laughable. Among werewolves, a Luna’s status was second only to an Alpha. And I wasn’t just the Luna of Black Rock Pack. I was the sole Alpha heir of White Moon Pack. Yet in his eyes, I wasn’t even worth as much as an Omega. “Kane,” I said, my voice calm. “Do you really think I don’t know about you and Lena?” “Last year during the blizzard, when my father’s people were surrounded by rogues, I sent you five distress signals. You didn’t respond to a single one.” He frowned. “I told you, there was a board vote that day…” “You were with Lena.” I threw my phone in front of him, the flight records glaringly bright. “Lena said she wanted to see the Northern Lights. So you flew overnight to spend three days with her. My White Moon Pack was nearly wiped out because of it.” Kane’s smile finally cracked. I continued, my tone flat. “Since we got married, you’ve never given me a single decent gift, yet you gave Lena a sapphire necklace worth two million dollars. I really want to ask. Who do you really consider your wife?” “Enough!” He shot to his feet, the chair crashing against the wall. “Can’t take it anymore?” I pulled out documents from under my pillow and slammed them against his chest. “Tell me, who did you sign away White Moon Pack’s mineral rights to? You used our White Moon Pack’s assets to support your Omega, and you still have the nerve to sit here and tell me not to divorce you?” Kane grabbed my wrist, his fangs bared, pupils turning red. “Ayla, don’t push me.” “Push you?” I stared directly into his eyes. “I was pregnant for so long, and every day you sent me vitamins that Lena had to approve first. I thought you were being thoughtful at the time. Now I realize you were just making sure the poison would kill my baby, weren’t you?” His hand loosened, and he stepped back as if burned. “Since your Omega loves to approve things so much, let her be the Luna.” I threw the signed divorce agreement in his face. “I’m ending this marriage.” Kane clutched the paper, his knuckles white as it crumpled in his hand. He threw the crumpled paper on the ground, grabbed his coat, and left. After Kane left, Sophie, the Beta who had served me for years, came in with red-rimmed eyes. “Luna Ayla…” I pulled out the IV needle from the back of my hand and leaned against the headboard, speaking calmly. “Pull out the alliance agreement between our packs, the joint accounts, and the mineral transfer documents. I want every single transaction investigated thoroughly.” “Also, gather the remaining vitamins I was taking before my miscarriage. Don’t let anyone touch them.” “And contact my advisor. I want to attend my graduation defense on schedule. No delays.” Sophie’s tablet nearly cracked under the pressure of her grip. “Yes, Luna Ayla.” I looked out at the gray sky, my hand gently resting on my abdomen. Kane. Lena. In this life, what you owe me, what you owe White Moon Pack. I’ll collect it all back, with interest.

Three days after leaving the hospital, Lena came to the villa to see me. She walked into the living room carrying a bowl of medicinal tonic, Kane following behind her with one hand hovering protectively near her waist. “Ayla.” She placed the tonic on the coffee table. “This is a recipe I learned from our pack’s healer. It’s specially for restoring your strength. You just got out of the hospital and your body is weak. You need to take care of yourself.” She lowered her eyelashes and sighed. “I heard from Kane about what happened at the hospital. If you’re angry, take it out on me. Just please don’t fight with Kane about divorce. If I ruin the alliance between our two packs, I’ll be a sinner.” Halfway through her speech, she couldn’t hold back anymore and began sobbing softly. Kane frowned and pulled her into his shoulder. “Lena, this has nothing to do with you. Don’t blame yourself for everything.” He turned to me. “Ayla, look how reasonable Lena is. And you? All you know how to do is threaten divorce!” Watching her terrible acting, I suddenly laughed. Kane said angrily, “What’s so funny!” “I’m laughing at Lena. At least she has some self-awareness.” “But I need to remind you: among werewolves, an Omega speaking to a Luna must use respectful language. Didn’t your parents teach you manners?” Lena’s face flushed red and white, biting her lip, not daring to speak. Kane’s expression darkened. “Ayla! You’re going too far! How can you, as a Luna, bully a young Omega like this!” “Bully?” I raised an eyebrow. “I’m just teaching her werewolf etiquette. Kane, as the Alpha of Black Rock Pack, aren’t you afraid of being held accountable by the Council of Elders for allowing an Omega to disrespect a Luna?” “But more than etiquette, I’d like to ask you. That blue diamond necklace. Is it comfortable to wear?” Lena’s face froze for half a second, then her eyes grew even redder. “What necklace? Ayla, what are you talking about?” “The two million dollars you spent buying that blue diamond necklace came from our joint account.” I opened my phone and showed her the auction house transaction records. “That two million was supposed to be used to help our displaced pack members, but Kane spent it buying you a necklace.” Kane’s face turned iron-gray as he slammed his hand on the coffee table. “I made up that money later…” “Made it up?” I laughed coldly. “What about the forty million you siphoned off through the mineral rights transfer? Are you going to make it up with those fake accounts from Lena’s shell companies?” Lena cried, her shoulders shaking. “It’s all my fault. I caused trouble for Kane.” Watching Lena’s clumsy performance only gave me a headache. “Sophie, call security.” “Escort this Omega who doesn’t know her manners out. From now on, without my permission, she’s not allowed to set foot in any White Moon Pack property.” Kane’s pupils contracted sharply. “Ayla, you’re going too far. Do you have to be so ruthless?” I stood up and met his eyes. “Kane, the one being ruthless isn’t me. It’s you.” Kane tried to say something more, but two tall White Moon security guards immediately stepped forward, blocking his path. “Alpha Kane, please leave!” Kane pulled Lena up and turned to go. “Ayla, just wait. This isn’t over!” That evening. Sophie placed a thick stack of transaction records in front of me. “Luna, everything’s been investigated. Besides the sapphire necklace and mineral rights, over the past year and a half, your private account has transferred seventy-two million dollars to Lena’s account, and White Moon Pack has provided interest-free loans totaling three hundred million dollars to Blake Corporation.” “Also, I’ve contacted your advisor. The professor is very supportive of your timely defense and has scheduled it for one week before the graduation ceremony.” I picked up the divorce agreement and signed my name at the bottom. “Deliver this to Kane’s office. Within three days, tell him to return all the money and sign the divorce agreement.” “Otherwise, I’ll immediately report to the Council of Elders that he allowed an Omega to disrespect a Luna and embezzled pack funds.” “Also, tell him not to try using my graduation defense against me. If he dares to cause trouble at the school, I’ll make sure both he and Blake Corporation disappear from North America completely.”

Early the next morning, I returned to White Moon Pack’s estate. My mother took my hand and spoke earnestly. “My daughter, you and Kane have only been married for a year. It’s normal to have adjustment issues. As the Luna of Black Rock Pack, you can’t be so impulsive! You can’t just divorce like this!” My father’s face was stern, his tone displeased. “Ayla, it’s not that your mother and I aren’t on your side, but divorce is unprecedented in our pack’s history.” “Kane may have his faults, but it’s not unusual for an Alpha to keep one or two Omegas outside. Once you have another child and he becomes a father, he’ll naturally settle down.” “Besides, you’re about to graduate with your doctorate. If you divorce now, what if it affects your future?” I interrupted them. “Dad, Mom, I’ve already sent the divorce agreement. Kane and I are getting divorced. That’s final.” “I will also attend my doctoral defense on schedule. No one is taking my degree away from me.” My father slammed his hand on the armrest, making the teacup rattle. “How could you make such a decision without consulting us! Do you know how much negative publicity a divorce would bring to both our packs’ reputations?” As we reached an impasse, a steady voice came from the doorway. “If Ayla wants to come home, let her come home. With me protecting her, Black Rock Pack won’t dare touch her.”

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Vivienne Sterling had been keeping Cyrus Wilde for three years. Everyone in their circle said Miss Sterling had lost her mind. With so many eligible bachelors from prominent families available, she insisted on spoiling a race car driver who had nothing but a pretty face and a wild temper. Vivienne didn’t care. All she wanted was the red mole at the corner of Cyrus’s eye, exactly like Sebastian’s. Until news came that Sebastian, thought dead, had returned alive. That very evening at a charity gala, Cyrus stood with his arm around his childhood friend Meadow, bragging to others. “Vivienne can’t live without me. I just crook my finger and she comes running.” The next second, the doors swung open. The man missing for three years walked in, cold and intense, his gaze sharp as a blade. In front of everyone, Vivienne kicked aside Cyrus who blocked her path, eyes reddening as she rushed into that man’s embrace. Cyrus lost it, dropping to his knees and clutching at her dress. “Vivienne,look at me. I have a mole too…” Vivienne looked down at him with the same gaze one might give garbage. “A fake is a fake. Now that the moon has returned, who needs a firefly?”

When Cyrus tore up that ten-million-dollar check and threw it in my face, I was checking my watch. 2 AM. My birthday was over. “Vivienne, who the hell are you trying to humiliate with money?” Cyrus stood there shirtless, wine stains still wet on his chest, his handsome, hostile face full of aggression. “I was with Meadow at the hospital today! She’s afraid of the dark, and she had acute gastritis. What’s wrong with me staying with her as her brother for one night? Was that worth throwing money at me?” I calmly wiped the paper scraps from my face, my gaze settling on the dark red teardrop mole at the corner of his eye. So similar. Sebastian Ashford had a mole just like that too. Except when Sebastian looked at me, that mole reflected gentle ripples. Whereas Cyrus’s only showed greed and impatience. “I told you to come back and spend my birthday with me. Did you forget the rules?” I leaned back on the sofa, my voice light but carrying an unquestionable coldness. When I’d first kept Cyrus, the rules were clear: First, come whenever called. Second, play the role of Sebastian’s shadow well. Third, no emotional attachment allowed, especially not to that barely-related sister of his, Meadow. Cyrus let out a cold laugh and kicked over the coffee table in front of him. The cake I’d made myself was now a pile of ruined mess. “Fuck your rules! Vivienne, you think having some dirty money makes you so great? Let me tell you, Meadow is priceless to me! What would a cold-blooded capitalist like you know about feelings?” He bent down, bringing that face close to mine with vindictive pleasure. “Besides, don’t you love this face of mine? Even if I leave now, you’ll still obediently buy me that Ferrari and send it over. Vivienne, you’re just a pathetic woman who can’t survive without a man.” With that, he grabbed his jacket and stormed out. As he left, I heard him sending Meadow a voice message, his tone instantly turning sickeningly sweet. “Don’t be scared, Meadow. Cyrus is coming right back. That crazy bitch can’t control me.” The room fell silent again. I stared at the wreckage, my stomach cramping. Three years. To hold onto this last shred of memory of Sebastian, I’d fed this stray dog Cyrus until he became a wolf. Not only had I filled his stomach, I’d emboldened him. My phone vibrated. A message from my special assistant: “Miss Sterling, there’s movement from the Ashford family. The three-year lockdown… seems to be loosening.” My hand trembled violently, my heartbeat skipping. Sebastian, is it you?

Cyrus didn’t return for half a month. He was betting I’d show up with a black card and a luxury car, just like before. After all, every time before, I couldn’t bear to see that face disappointed. A face so much like Sebastian’s. So I’d compromise. No limits. But he miscalculated this time. I had no time for him. News from the Ashford family was becoming increasingly definite. Someone had spotted a figure resembling Sebastian at a private sanatorium abroad. I mobilized all of the Sterling family’s underground networks to investigate, staying up entire nights monitoring for updates. Right at this critical juncture, the Sterling family faced a crisis. My grandfather, who had doted on me most, suffered a sudden cerebral hemorrhage and was rushed into the ICU. The doctor issued a critical condition notice, telling me to prepare myself mentally. That day, thunder and lightning crashed. I stood outside the emergency room, my entire body ice cold. Before losing consciousness, Grandfather kept calling out. “Viv… find someone… to take care of you…” I knew Grandfather feared I would be alone. I wanted to put his mind at ease. Even if it was fake, I needed to let him see, to tell him I had someone. I dialed Cyrus’s number. First attempt, rejected. Second attempt, rejected again. Third attempt, finally answered. Deafening engine roars and cheers came through the receiver. Cyrus was at the racetrack. “Make it quick, I’m busy.” His voice was arrogant and cocky. “Cyrus, come to First Memorial Hospital.” I tried desperately to keep my voice from shaking. “Grandfather’s critical. He wants to see you. Just come now, and I’ll buy you that limited edition supercar you wanted.” Silence on the other end for a second, then Meadow’s shrill scream erupted. “Ah! Cyrus! I want to try that drift! Take me, please!” Cyrus clicked his tongue, then said impatiently, “Vivienne, you’re really going all out to trick me back, aren’t you? Even lying about the old man dying? Ever heard of the boy who cried wolf?” “Meadow’s in a bad mood today. I need to take her for a drive to cheer her up. Go play the dutiful granddaughter yourself. Don’t bother me.” The call disconnected. In that instant, my knuckles turned white gripping the phone. I never imagined a person could be this rotten. Half an hour later, the emergency room lights went out. The doctor pushed out a gurney covered with a white sheet and shook his head at me. I didn’t cry. Tears seemed too superfluous in this moment. I simply quietly took out my phone and sent an order to the financial director. “Cancel all supplementary cards under Cyrus’s name. Revoke his residential rights at the Westhill Villa. Now. Immediately.”

Grandfather’s funeral was grand. Everyone who was anyone in New York attended. Except Cyrus. Because his cards were canceled, he’d lost face in front of his friends and couldn’t even buy Meadow a purse. He sent me hundreds of text messages, starting with curses, moving to accusations, then finally threats. I didn’t respond to a single one. I blocked him directly. On the day of the funeral procession, Cyrus finally appeared. He’d probably climbed over the wall to get in, wearing a motorcycle jacket with the zipper half-open, his face full of hostility. What’s more, Meadow followed behind him. At this solemn occasion where everyone wore black, Meadow had on a pale pink Chanel suit, innocent makeup, and was even holding a milk tea. The guests immediately erupted in outrage. “Who is that? How rude!” “Isn’t that the boy toy Miss Sterling keeps? How dare he bring a girl in pink to a funeral?” Cyrus ignored it all. He strode directly to me and grabbed my wrist, his eyes bloodshot. “Vivienne, have you had enough? Is canceling my cards fun for you? Let me tell you, Meadow was terrified. You apologize to her right now, and give her that Westhill villa as compensation for emotional distress. Then I’ll forgive you this time!” I slowly raised my head, looking at that face. Once, looking at Sebastian through this face gave me momentary comfort. Now, I only felt disgusted. Like I’d swallowed ten thousand flies. “Take your filthy hands off me.” My voice was hoarse but cold as ice. Cyrus froze, seemingly unable to believe I dared speak to him this way. Meadow immediately stepped forward, clinging to Cyrus’s arm, looking at me with teary eyes. “Vivienne,don’t be angry at Cyrus. It’s all my fault… I wasn’t feeling well, that’s why Cyrus was so worried. And… and I didn’t wear pink on purpose. I just thought Grandfather going to heaven should be a happy thing…” Slap! I backhanded her hard across the face. The slap was so loud the entire funeral hall fell silent. Meadow was stunned, milk tea spilling all over her, leaving her in a sorry state. “This is the Sterling family funeral hall, not your hookup nightclub.” I accepted a wet wipe from a bodyguard and methodically wiped my fingers. Each word landed like a nail. “Wearing pink to a funeral. Is this your upbringing? Since your parents didn’t teach you properly, I’ll teach you in their place.” “Vivienne! Are you insane?!” Cyrus flew into a rage, raising his fist to charge at me. “You dare hit her? You believe I’ll…” Before he could get close, two bodyguards over six feet tall pressed him to his knees on the ground. His kneecaps hit the marble floor with a sickening crack. I looked down at Cyrus kneeling before me. “Cyrus, the game is over.” “You’re just a substitute, a plaything. When I favored you, you were a treasure. Now that I’m done with you, you’re not even worth a stray dog.” “Throw them both out. From now on, they show up on Sterling property once, we beat them once.”

Cyrus and Meadow were dragged out of the funeral hall like dead dogs. I heard he cursed at the gate for half an hour, swearing to make me beg him to come back. After handling Grandfather’s affairs, I swiftly cleaned house within the corporation. Those collateral relatives waiting to see me fail, I kicked them out one by one. The outside world buzzed with rumors. The Sterling family’s crazy heiress was back. No longer a lovesick idiot. A week later came a top-tier business reception. The host was mysterious, supposedly a newly returned tycoon holding hundreds of billions in capital. I had to secure this partnership to stabilize Sterling Corporation’s stock price. Unexpectedly, I ran into Cyrus again at the entrance. He’d apparently latched onto some nouveau riche sugar mama. Clutching an invitation from who knows where, he swaggered by the door looking smug. Seeing me, he immediately released the rich woman’s hand, straightened his collar, and walked over. “Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Sterling?” Cyrus blocked my path, his expression full of vindictive satisfaction. “What? You here begging for partnerships too? I heard this big shot has high standards. With Sterling Corporation’s current state, you probably can’t even get through the door, right?” He leaned close, lowering his voice with malicious temptation. “Vivienne,having regrets now? Just say ‘I was wrong’ in front of everyone, return that villa, and I’ll put in a good word with my lady friend here. Let you get in and see what real class looks like.” He thought I was still that Vivienne who gave him everything he asked for. Thought that with a simple crook of his finger and a small favor, I’d let bygones be bygones. After all, he still had that face. I looked at him and suddenly laughed. “Cyrus, did you forget to look in the mirror before leaving?” “That fawning, sleazy look on you. You really resemble a eunuch.” Cyrus’s face instantly turned iron blue. “Vivienne! Don’t be shameless! When that big shot arrives, we’ll see how you cry!” Just then, the banquet hall doors slowly opened. All the lights instantly converged, spotlights hitting the entrance. The previously noisy crowd fell silent, everyone spontaneously parting to create a path. “Is that… the legendary ‘Moon God’ of Wall Street?” “Oh my God, it’s really him! The Ashford family heir who disappeared three years ago!” I jerked my head up. My heart stopped beating in that moment. That man approached against the light. Dressed in an impeccably tailored deep black suit, his posture upright as a pine. That face, coldly noble, had gained even more maturity and commanding presence than in my memories. He lifted his gaze slightly, his eyes piercing through layers of people, landing precisely on me. It was Sebastian. The real Sebastian. No hostility, no sleaziness, only a nobility that made people want to bow in submission.

I froze in place, as if my soul was frozen. Three years. Over a thousand days and nights of despair. All of it broke loose the moment I saw him appear safe and sound. Cyrus froze too. He stared blankly at Sebastian, then looked down at himself. An inferiority complex instantly engulfed him. Though their features were seventy percent similar, their temperaments were worlds apart. If Sebastian was a bright moon hanging high in the night sky, then Cyrus was a puddle of mud in the gutter. Sebastian walked straight toward me. Bodyguards on both sides cleared the way for him. The rich woman who’d been so arrogant moments ago now didn’t dare breathe too loudly. Cyrus panicked. He felt an unprecedented sense of crisis. The bloodline suppression from the real thing. He instinctively tried to grab my hand to assert ownership. “Vivienne, who is he? He’s just a bit paler than me, right? Don’t let him fool you, I’m the one who…” “Get lost.” Sebastian spoke. Just one word, not loud, but carrying bone-chilling killing intent. He didn’t even spare Cyrus a proper glance, as if he were merely a patch of air. Cyrus staggered back two steps under the force of that aura, his legs weakening until he sat down hard on the ground. The next second, Sebastian stood before me. He reached out, his slender fingers gently touching my cheek, his fingertips warm. Those eyes that usually looked at everyone coldly were now frighteningly red. “Vivienne.” He called my full name, his voice hoarse as if scraped over sandpaper. “I’m sorry. I came back too late.” My tears instantly splashed onto his palm. All my strength, all my pretense, all the dignity of the Sterling family head. It all crumbled in this moment. I couldn’t care about propriety anymore. I threw myself into his arms, hands desperately clutching his lapels, crying like a child who’d been lost. “Sebastian… you bastard… you were dead for three years… why did you only come back now…” He held me tightly back, with a force as if trying to meld me into his bones and blood. “I’m the bastard. From now on, my life is yours. I’ll never leave again.” A deathly silence surrounded us. No one expected the cold, aloof Miss Sterling to cry like this. Even less did they expect the legendarily ruthless new Ashford family head to publicly comfort someone. Cyrus sat on the ground, ashen-faced. He watched the woman Sebastian carefully protected in his embrace, watched the undisguised devotion in that man’s eyes. He finally understood a truth. These three years, the so-called “favoritism” he’d been so proud of was nothing but Vivienne looking at another man’s shadow through him. “Impossible… this can’t be…” Cyrus scrambled up unwillingly, pointing at Sebastian and shouting. “Vivienne! Look at me! I have a mole too! Right here at my eye! You said you loved this mole most!” He frantically pointed at his eye corner like a madman trying to prove his worth. Sebastian finally deigned to spare him a glance. With one arm around me, he swept his indifferent gaze over Cyrus’s face, his lips curving into a cruel arc. “Oh? A mole?” “You had that tattooed on to look like me, didn’t you?” “Poorly imitating your betters. Truly… disgustingly ugly.”

“Tat… tattooed?” Cyrus looked like he’d been struck by lightning, covering his eye corner, his voice shaking uncontrollably. Sebastian took a handkerchief from his assistant with distaste, methodically wiping the finger that had just touched Cyrus’s chin. As if it had been contaminated by some lethal bacteria. “You didn’t know?” Sebastian’s tone was casual but every word hit home. “This mole of mine. When I was five, I got scratched by a tree branch while saving Viv. The scar later became a mole.” “It’s a badge of honor.” He tossed the handkerchief into a nearby trash can. “Whereas that one on your face reeks of crude industrial saccharine.” The crowd erupted. So Miss Sterling hadn’t loved the mole. She’d loved that history of childhood sweethearts, of life-saving devotion. Cyrus had become a complete joke. His proud “substitute credentials” had transformed into a farcical imitation in this moment. “No… I don’t believe it! Vivienne,say something!” Cyrus tried to lunge forward, but security kicked him in the back of the knee, forcing him to his knees again. He looked up at me, his eyes full of panic and pleading. “Vivienne,it’s me, Cyrus. We’ve been together three years. Even without merit, I’ve worked hard. You can’t be this heartless…” I nestled in Sebastian’s embrace, feeling only infinite exhaustion. Looking at that man sobbing on the ground, I wondered if I’d been blind the past three years. “Cyrus.” I spoke, my voice soft. “These three years, every cent you spent came from the returns on what Sebastian left me.” “The cars you drove. He ordered them before he died. The villa you lived in. He designed it. Even your existence only had value because you resembled him.” “Now the real deal is back. Don’t you find it disgusting? You fake, spending the real deal’s money and trampling all over him?” “Throw him out.” Sebastian didn’t want to hear another word. Holding my waist, he turned. “Don’t dirty her eyes.” Security dragged Cyrus and the now-terrified rich woman out like dead dogs. Before the doors closed, Cyrus’s heart-wrenching shouts could still be heard. “Vivienne! You’ll regret this! That man disappeared for three years. Who knows what he did out there! Only I truly cared about you!” The doors slammed shut. The world grew quiet.

Sebastian took me back to his private estate in the suburbs. In the car, the atmosphere was eerily quiet. I gripped his sleeve tightly, not daring to let go for even a moment, afraid this was just a dream and I’d wake to find him transformed back into that cold tombstone. “Why are your hands so cold?” Sebastian grasped my hand, his brow furrowed. He tucked my hand into his coat pocket, warmth flowing continuously from his palm. “I’m sorry, Viv. The plane crashed then, and I fell into international waters. A passing fishing boat rescued me, but I suffered brain trauma and was in a coma for two full years.” “After waking, I was in rehabilitation, fighting to regain control of the Ashford family. I didn’t dare contact you, afraid those who wanted me dead would target you.” His explanation was brief, but I could hear the bloodshed and violence behind it. Two years in a coma, one year in rehabilitation, and still having to fight his way back to the center of power in a foreign land. I didn’t dare imagine how much he’d suffered. “What about now…” I choked up, reaching to touch his legs. “I’m fine now.” Sebastian caught my hand, kissing it at his lips. “To come back and hold you, I made sure my legs recovered completely. See, I can hold you very steadily now.” The car stopped at the estate entrance. He didn’t let me get out. Instead, he scooped me up horizontally and strode into the house. The lights came on, and I realized the interior furnishings were exactly as I remembered. Even my hair tie from three years ago still sat on the coffee table. “This place has been maintained. Nothing’s changed.” Sebastian set me on the sofa, then knelt on one knee. This man who could overturn industries with a flick of his hand now knelt before me, removing my uncomfortable high heels. He cradled my foot, looking at the blisters rubbed raw on my heels, his expression dangerously dark. “That waste Cyrus never even bought you proper shoes?” I sniffled. “He only knew how to use my card to buy things for himself and Meadow.” Sebastian’s movements paused. Then he produced a black velvet box, opening it to reveal a blinding pink diamond ring and a heavy private seal. “This is the Ashford family head’s private seal. Seeing this seal is like seeing me in person. It can mobilize all Ashford family funds and influence.” He pressed the seal into my hand and slipped the ring onto my ring finger. “Vivienne,from now on you manage my money, you manage my life. Whoever wrongs you, I’ll send to hell.” Looking at that ring, I remembered Cyrus once gave me a plastic hair clip bought from a street stall, insisting I wear it to a gala, saying this was “true love doesn’t look at price.” It turned out, love versus no love really was that obvious.

After being thrown out of the reception, Cyrus didn’t give up. He took Meadow back to the Westhill Villa. That was Sterling family property, and his and Meadow’s nest these past three years. He wanted to grab some of the watches and antiques I’d given him to sell for cash to make a comeback. However, when he entered the password, the door lock emitted a harsh alarm: “Incorrect password.” He refused to believe it and tried again. “Incorrect password. System locked.” “Impossible! That woman Vivienne actually changed the password?!” Cyrus flew into a rage, kicking the door. Just then, the door opened from inside. Several uniformed movers emerged carrying huge black garbage bags. “What are you doing! This is my house!” Cyrus rushed forward to grab them. The head butler coldly pushed him away. “Mr. Wilde, Miss Sterling has given orders. This property has been reclaimed. As for what’s inside…” The butler gestured at the garbage bags on the ground. “Miss Sterling said since the person is no longer wanted, the trash that person left should also be cleaned out. These are your personal belongings. Please take them.” Cyrus tore open a garbage bag with trembling hands. Inside were clothes he’d worn, toothbrushes he’d used, and Meadow’s pile of cheap pink stuffed animals. But all the valuable watches, paintings, limited edition collectibles, all gone. “Where are my watches! Where are my car keys!” Cyrus shouted like a madman. The butler remained expressionless. “Those were all assets purchased by Miss Sterling, belonging to Sterling Corporation, not to you. You only had usage rights, not ownership.” “Additionally, Miss Sterling asked me to inform you that the thirteen million and fifty thousand dollars you charged over these three years. The lawyer’s letter is on its way. Please prepare for repayment.” “Thirteen… million?” Meadow nearly fainted hearing this, screaming, “Cyrus! Didn’t you say that money was what you earned? Didn’t you say the Sterling family was just your ATM? We have to pay it back? We’ll go to prison!” Hit in his sore spot, Cyrus turned and backhanded Meadow across the face. “Shut up! If you hadn’t demanded to buy this and that every day, would I have spent so much? Having second thoughts now? Get lost!” Meadow clutched her face crying but didn’t dare leave. Because she was also a parasite. Without Cyrus, she didn’t even know where she’d sleep tonight. The rain fell harder. Cyrus and Meadow crouched by the villa entrance clutching garbage bags, like two homeless dogs. And in the distance, the Sterling family’s brilliant lights would never shine on them again.

People in desperate straits often become even more shameless. Cyrus had reached the end of his rope. He could neither repay that thirteen million debt nor accept the fall from cloud nine to mud. At Meadow’s instigation, he decided to go all in. The next morning, a video titled “Heiress CEO Abandons Three-Year Lover, Turns Around to Grovel Before Returning Tycoon” shot to number one on trending. In the video, Cyrus appeared unshaven, red-eyed, haggard, tearfully complaining to the camera. “Vivienne and I were together three years. I gave her my whole heart. The day her grandfather was dying, I got injured at the racetrack and didn’t see the call. She’s held it against me ever since. Now that Sebastian’s back, she kicked me out to climb the social ladder and stuck me with over thirteen million in debt… I really don’t know how to keep living.” Meadow appeared on cue beside him, crying pitifully, even holding a forged “abortion medical record.” “Viv never liked me. She thought I was Cyrus’s burden. A while ago I accidentally got pregnant. When Viv found out, she forced Cyrus to take me for an abortion. That was a little life…” This victim act was devastatingly precise. “Abandoning old love,” “clinging to power,” “forced abortion.” Every keyword struck the public’s sensitive nerves. Public opinion exploded instantly. Uninformed netizens flooded Sterling Corporation’s official account and my personal profile with abuse. “Vivienne Sterling get out of New York! How can such a heartless woman be CEO?” “Trading her fiancé for money. Absolutely disgusting!” “So sad. Three years of her life wasted on a man, and now he’s the one paying the price. Too tragic!” “That Sebastian guy isn’t any better, right? Taking someone else’s leftovers?” Sterling Corporation’s stock price hit the daily limit down at opening. The board couldn’t sit still, calling to demand answers. Some even proposed removing me as CEO. I sat in my office watching Cyrus’s supremely hypocritical face on the big screen. I found it laughable. Did he think public opinion could destroy me? Too bad he forgot. These three years, I’d kept the Sterling family head position not through mercy. “Miss Sterling, PR has prepared a clarification statement. Should we release it?” My special assistant looked anxious. I shook my head, fingers lightly tapping the desk. “No rush. Let it play out a bit longer. The heat isn’t high enough yet. Not enough to finish him off completely.” “What about Mr. Ashford’s side?” The assistant checked her phone, expression somewhat odd. “Mr. Ashford said… this small matter doesn’t require your concern. He’s already sent people to ‘invite’ those two big stars.”

That evening, Cyrus sat in a shabby motel room scrolling through comments on his phone, gloating. “Meadow look! So many people support us! People are even tipping me! I’ve made tens of thousands just now!” Meadow nestled in his arms, her eyes gleaming with greed. “Cyrus is amazing! When that bitch Vivienne can’t take the pressure and comes begging for peace, we’ll demand a hundred million from her!” Bang! The motel’s flimsy wooden door kicked open. Several black-suited bodyguards filed in and without a word, pinned down the couple still dreaming of riches. “What are you doing! I’m calling the police! I’m an influencer! I have millions of followers!” Cyrus struggled desperately. His phone clattered to the floor, still on the livestream interface. Viewers in the livestream only saw the camera shake violently, then a pair of polished black leather shoes appeared in frame. Sebastian slowly entered. He toyed with a USB drive in his hand, his gaze looking at them like livestock awaiting slaughter. “I hear you’ve been having fun making up stories online?” His voice wasn’t loud but carried bone-deep coldness. A bodyguard brought in a chair. Sebastian sat down elegantly, crossing his long legs, his presence instantly crushing the cramped little room. “You… you’re Sebastian?” Cyrus swallowed hard, blustering. “What? Guilty conscience? Want to silence me? Let me tell you, the livestream’s still running! Millions watching! You dare touch me, just try!” Sebastian glanced at the phone on the floor, his lips curving in a mocking smile. “Livestream? Perfect.” He snapped his fingers. The assistant behind him immediately produced a projector, aiming it at the yellowed wall. “Since everyone’s watching, let’s all appreciate Mr. Wilde’s ‘devoted’ moments over these three years.” Sebastian pressed play. The screen began flickering.The first video was surveillance footage from a bar the night Grandfather was in critical condition. Cyrus had his arms around Meadow, writhing wildly on the dance floor, spraying champagne, shouting, “The old bastard’s finally croaking! Vivienne will be all alone after this, she’ll have to depend on me!” Cheers erupted around him. Where was any sign of an “injured leg”? The livestream went silent for a second, then the comments exploded. “Holy shit! This is what he called being injured at the racetrack? He was clubbing!” “This is so disgusting. Cursing someone’s grandfather?” “And that girl! Didn’t she say she was pregnant and weak then? She’s dancing harder than anyone!” The second video was dashcam footage. Cyrus drove my Ferrari with Meadow in the passenger seat. Meadow touched her stomach. “Cyrus, my belly… are we really saying Vivienne forced me to abort? I’m not even pregnant. That medical report was fake…” Cyrus smoked carelessly. “What’s there to be afraid of? As long as we cry pathetically enough online, those idiot netizens will believe us. Then we’ll extort Vivienne for money and go live it up abroad.” After this video, the livestream completely erupted. Those netizens who’d been feeling sorry for Cyrus now felt their intelligence had been insulted, their anger instantly maxing out. “Scammer! It was all an act!” “That woman is so vicious! Making up lies like that?” “I actually tipped this scumbag? Refund!” “Miss Sterling is so pitiful, being entangled with these parasites…” Watching the images on the wall, Cyrus turned deathly pale, trembling all over. “No… this isn’t real… it’s CGI! It’s deepfake!” he screamed hysterically at the phone. Sebastian stood, crushing the phone on the floor with his foot, cutting off the livestream. But he didn’t let the bodyguards release their grip. He walked to Cyrus, bent down, his deep eyes full of violence. “Cyrus, I was going to let you live, let you get lost from New York and be done with it.” “But you absolutely should not have used Viv’s reputation as fodder.” “The person I treasure so much I can’t bear to say a harsh word to. You think you can throw dirt on her?” Sebastian patted Cyrus’s already terrified face, his voice gentle as if telling a bedtime story. “Defamation, slander, fraud, extortion… these charges combined are enough for you to operate a sewing machine in prison for life.” “Oh, and there’s that thirteen million and fifty thousand in debt.” “I’ll have the best legal team play with you. Even if you die in prison, I’ll squeeze this debt out of your bone fragments.” Finished speaking, he straightened up, wiping his hands with a wet wipe in disgust. “Take them away. Send them to the police station, hand them to Chief Wang. Tell him… they’re a welcome-back gift from Sebastian.” By the time Cyrus and Meadow were dragged away, they didn’t even have the strength left to beg for mercy. They knew this time, it was truly over. Provoking Vivienne might have left a thread of survival, but provoking Sebastian meant provoking the Grim Reaper himself. That evening, Sterling Corporation’s official account posted just one sentence: “The real deal returns, the clowns scatter. @Ashford Corporation Welcome home, Mr. Ashford.” The accompanying image showed Sebastian putting the ring on my finger in the car, our hands interlocked with fingers intertwined, the pink diamond on my ring finger sparkling brilliantly in the night. The internet exploded. Not just because of this shocking reversal, but because Sebastian’s newly registered account instantly replied: “My moon, finally in my embrace.”

The morning after the storm of public opinion subsided, I woke to kisses. Opening my eyes, Sebastian propped his head up watching me, his other hand playing with my long hair spread across the pillow. Sunlight filtered through the curtains onto his coldly noble face, gilding him with a soft golden edge. He didn’t look like the Grim Reaper who’d been so ruthlessly decisive in the livestream, but more like a male demon. “Awake?” His voice carried the huskiness of early morning as he lowered his head to kiss my forehead. I instinctively burrowed into his embrace. Even after a whole night, this real warmth still didn’t feel like enough. “About Cyrus…” I’d just started. Sebastian’s expression visibly darkened, and he bit my lip corner in punishment. “First thing in the morning, why mention that unlucky thing? Trying to make me not want to get out of bed?” My face heated. I pushed him. “I’m worried there’ll be follow-up trouble. After all…” “No trouble.” Sebastian cut off my words, his gaze deepening. “Vivienne,you need to get used to something. As long as I’m here, even if the sky falls, I’ll hold it up. You just need to be the Sterling family’s young miss, to be my Mrs. Ashford.” He got up, revealing his muscular upper body. On his back was a vicious old scar from washing ashore three years ago. My fingertips trembled as I touched it. Sebastian grabbed my hand, pressing it to his heart. “Don’t touch it. It’s ugly.” “It’s not ugly.” My eyes stung. “This is the roadmap you left to come back and see me.” During breakfast, the assistant called, her tone hesitant. “Miss Sterling, those old foxes on the board… they’re making trouble at the company.” “They say that although this public opinion storm was clarified, Sterling Corporation’s stock volatility affected their dividends. They’re proposing… to convene an emergency shareholders’ meeting to re-elect the chairman.” I let out a cold laugh, setting down my milk glass. These wily board members had been restless even when Grandfather was alive. Now they saw me caught up in a scandal and thought I was an easy target. They wanted to take advantage and stage a coup. “Prepare the car.” I stood, cold light flashing in my eyes. Sebastian methodically wiped his mouth, casually picking up his suit jacket and draping it over my shoulders. “Perfect timing. I’ll go with you. Some accounts need settling not just with Cyrus, but with these disrespectful old geezers too.”

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Seven years into our marriage, my husband pushed me down the stairs over a single word from his mistress. The baby was gone. And I was diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer. On the day we signed the divorce papers, I neither cried nor made a scene. I simply dug out an old sketchbook covered in dust from the storage room. It was the very first gift he had ever given me back in high school. When I opened the first page, a familiar line of handwriting came into view— “Violet, I’m gonna love you for ten thousand years!” Through tears, I grabbed a pen and viciously crossed it out. “Don’t love Violet. She’s bad luck.” But the next second, the words vanished into thin air, replaced by a new line of furious scribbles: “What kind of death-wish monster are you?” “Who the hell dares curse my wife?!” Eighteen-year-old Ethan, across time itself, had sent me his furious reply. “Miss Carter, Mr. Blackwell’s terms are clear: the villa goes to you, plus five million dollars, as long as you sign the papers.” The lawyer pushed the divorce agreement in front of me coldly. I’d just finished dialysis. The needle marks on my arm still showed dark bruises, and my chest felt like it was stuffed with burning coals, making me want to vomit. But I held it back. I glanced up at our wedding photo on the wall. In the picture, Ethan Blackwell had his arm around my waist, his smile brighter than the sunshine that day. Who could have imagined that in just seven short years, the man who swore to protect me forever would now find even the sight of me disgusting? “Where is he?” “Mr. Blackwell is accompanying Miss Sullivan to her prenatal checkup. He’s unavailable.” The lawyer answered emotionlessly. Sophia Sullivan. At the sound of that name, my heart seized violently. The impoverished student I once considered a little sister and financially supported. The girl who called me “sis” over and over. She was now carrying my husband’s child, brazenly living in the guest room I’d carefully decorated, and was about to replace me entirely. “Fine.” I picked up the pen. My hand trembled badly, but when I signed “Violet Carter” at the bottom, the stroke was surprisingly resolute. No heartbreaking accusations. No hysterical attempts to make him stay. Because I knew that Ethan Blackwell’s heart had become harder than stone. The lawyer collected the documents and left. The enormous villa was hollow and empty, as quiet as a tomb. I began packing my things. Actually, I didn’t have much to take. For these seven years, I’d lived like an appendage of Ethan Blackwell. The clothes were ones he picked, the jewelry was what he bought. Things that truly belonged to me were pitifully few. In the corner of the storage room, I dragged out a dust-covered cardboard box. This was from high school graduation, when Ethan had forced it on me. He said these were all his worldly possessions, entrusted to my care. Opening the box, a slightly yellowed hardcover sketchbook sat on top. I studied art. He was a jock. During study hall, I’d draw while he either slept beside me or grabbed my notebook to doodle randomly. Something possessed me to open it. The first page showed an extremely ugly turtle he’d drawn, with a note beside it: “Violet is a little turtle.” Flipping through, it was full of the clumsy strokes belonging to eighteen-year-old Ethan. Until I reached the middle page, where I froze. This was a line I’d never seen before, written with such force it had penetrated through the paper, even tearing it slightly. “Violet, I will love you for ten thousand years! Not one year less, not one month, not one day, not one hour!” Tears fell without warning onto the page, blurring the blue ink. Love for ten thousand years? Ethan Blackwell, your love didn’t even have a shelf life of seven years. I fumbled in my bag for a black pen. The urge to destroy everything rampaged through my chest. I forcefully drew a big X over the words “ten thousand years.” Then, trembling, I wrote a line. “Ethan Blackwell, don’t love Violet Carter. She’s cursed. She’ll destroy you.” Since the ending was so rotten, better if it had never begun at all. I closed the notebook and slumped against the wall, powerless. The stabbing pain in my stomach made me curl into a ball. Just then, the sketchbook resting on my lap suddenly moved. I thought it was my imagination. But immediately after, the scratching sound of someone writing forcefully on paper exploded in my ears out of nowhere. I snapped my eyes open and flipped the book open. The line I’d just written had vanished. In its place were several lines of bold, messy blue handwriting, the ink still wet, carrying an overwhelming sense of teenage bravado and inexplicable fury. “Who the hell are you? Some kind of demon?” “Who? Who dares curse my girl? Got a death wish?” “Come out! Stop playing ghost!”

I stared at those lines, my breathing nearly stopped. I knew this handwriting too well. Ethan’s current writing was practiced regular script. Steady, restrained, carrying the authority of someone in power. But this wild, almost flying scrawl could only have been written by that reckless eighteen-year-old Ethan. A hallucination? Had the cancer spread to my brain? I pinched my thigh hard. The pain was piercing. Not a dream. Looking at the question marks and exclamation points that kept appearing, my tears flowed even harder. I wiped my face, gripped the pen tightly, and wrote tentatively. “Are you the eighteen-year-old Ethan Blackwell?” The response came instantly, incredibly fast. “Obviously! What the hell are you? Why are you writing in my notebook? And why are you calling Violet cursed?!” “Say one more bad word about her and I swear I’ll kill you!” Even across time and space, across the distance between life and death, I could picture how he looked right now. Definitely wearing that red jersey, eyebrows raised high, looking fierce as he protected what was his. Once, this fierce devotion was my security. Now, it had become the sharpest blade stabbing into my heart. I took a deep breath and wrote. “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is this, Ethan Blackwell: Violet will cause you unbearable pain in the future.” “Bullshit!” The words on the other end were so large they nearly burst off the page. “Violet is the best girl in the entire world! I chased her for three whole years before she agreed to date me. I’m terrified of dropping her, afraid she’ll melt if I hold her in my mouth. How could she possibly cause me pain?” “You’re the problem, you sneaking rat!” “You’re just jealous I have a girlfriend, aren’t you? Single loser!” Looking at these words, I cried and laughed at the same time. Yes, I was jealous. I was jealous of eighteen-year-old Violet. Jealous that she had a boy whose heart and eyes were full of her alone. That boy hadn’t yet learned to weigh pros and cons. Hadn’t learned to put on false smiles. Hadn’t learned to kick away the one he loved like garbage for profit. “Ethan Blackwell,” I wrote, my wrist losing strength, “I’m from the future… an observer.” “I’ve seen how you two end up.” “End up?” He paused for a few seconds. “Did we get married? Have kids? Violet says she wants a daughter, a beautiful daughter just like her.” That blade struck true. I instinctively covered my flat stomach. There had been a little life there once. Three months along. That day Sophia pretended to fall. Ethan shoved me without asking any questions. I tumbled down the stairs. Blood stained my white dress red. When I woke up, the baby was gone, and I was diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer. And Ethan just looked at me coldly and said, “Violet, stop pretending. Sophia was just trying to help you up. You lost your balance. Who can you blame?” The memories corroded my sanity like acid. I gritted my teeth and wrote, one word at a time. “You got married.” “But seven years later, you’ll have an affair with her best friend.” “You’ll force Violet to divorce you for that woman.” “You’ll personally kill your child.” “Ethan Blackwell, is this what you call love?”

The other end fell into deathly silence. A full five minutes passed with no writing appearing. I thought the connection had broken, or maybe he’d thrown the notebook away. Just as I was about to close the book, a line of crooked text emerged, the handwriting messy, revealing the writer’s inner panic. “You’re full of shit.” “If you’re going to make up stories, at least make them believable! Me cheat? Me force Violet to divorce? Unless I got kicked in the head by a donkey or possessed by a demon!” “And Violet’s best friend is that crybaby Sophia? That bitch? I can’t stand her. I don’t even want to look at her. I’d hurt Violet for her? That’s the biggest joke ever!” I froze. So eighteen-year-old Ethan saw more clearly than anyone. Back then, Sophia had just transferred to our school and always followed me around looking pitiful. I was soft-hearted and treated her like a little sister, sharing all my snacks with her. Ethan warned me more than once: “Violet, stay away from that Sophia. She’s got bad intentions. She keeps staring at my shoes and watch. Her eyes are off.” I didn’t believe him then. I even scolded Ethan for being petty and assuming the worst about a girl. Turns out, I was the fool all along. “You don’t believe me?” I wrote. “Of course I don’t!” “Fine.” I glanced out the window. A rainstorm had started outside. “If I remember correctly, today should be June 15, 2014. Three days after finals ended.” The other end replied: “So what?” “Tonight at 8 PM, you’ll go to the stadium downtown for a farewell game. Five minutes into the third quarter, you’ll run into the basketball hoop trying to save the ball. Your left leg will fracture and you’ll need three stitches in your forehead.” “This injury will make you miss the athletic scholarship to State Sports University. And it’ll be… the first time you lose your temper with Violet.” This was an indelible turning point in my memory. After he got injured that day, he thought he was useless and didn’t want to burden me. He yelled at me in the hospital room, telling me to get lost. This was the first crack in our relationship. Although we patched it up later, that scar was always there. The other end went silent. A moment later, he replied with an incredibly arrogant line. “I just won’t go for the save today! Let’s see how your prediction turns out!” “Wait to be proven wrong, you fraud!” The writing faded. I closed the notebook and wearily shut my eyes. I hoped I’d be proven wrong too. If the past could change, if his leg hadn’t broken, would everything that came after be different? … 10 PM. The sound of the passcode lock opening the front door woke me up. I thought Ethan had come back. My heart instantly leapt to my throat. But it was Sophia who walked in. She wore a loose maternity dress and carried a luxury brand purse from the current season. The one I’d liked last month but couldn’t bring myself to buy. “You still haven’t left yet?” Sophia looked at me with a bright smile, her victor’s attitude completely undisguised. “Ethan sent me to check on your packing progress. After all, this house transfers to me tomorrow. I need to redecorate. I don’t like your taste. Too plain.” I looked at her coldly. “Have him come tell me himself.” “Ethan’s busy picking out bird’s nest soup for me.” Sophia stroked her slightly rounded belly, walked up to me, and lowered her voice to a volume only we could hear. “Violet, you’re so pathetic. You know what? That day I didn’t actually mean to fall. You were just too stupid, standing there daydreaming at the top of the stairs.” “Oh, and that baby… Actually, Ethan already knew you didn’t want it. He said it was good riddance. Saved trouble during the divorce later.” Boom. Something exploded in my head. “What did you say?” I shot to my feet, staring at her intently. “I said, Ethan never wanted the child you were carrying!” Sophia laughed delightedly. “He thought you weren’t worthy!” In that moment, all my rationality snapped. I raised my hand, ready to slap her hard across the face. “Stop!” A roar came from the doorway. Ethan rushed in and shoved me aside, shielding Sophia behind him. His strength was enormous. Already weak, I crashed heavily into the corner of the coffee table. Sharp pain shot through my waist. “Violet! Haven’t you caused enough trouble? You’re about to be divorced and you’re still bullying Sophia? How can you be so vicious!” Ethan looked down at me, his eyes full of disgust. I lay on the floor, looking at this man I’d loved for seven years. His face overlapped with the memory of that sunshine boy, then quickly tore apart. “Ethan Blackwell,” I spat out a mouthful of blood and smiled miserably. “You’re something else.” He saw the blood at the corner of my mouth. His eyes flickered with what seemed like a moment of panic, but it was quickly replaced by cold indifference. “Get out now. Don’t let me see you again.” He helped Sophia upstairs. I heard Sophia say sweetly, “Ethan, don’t be angry. She just can’t accept it…” I climbed up from the floor, grabbed the box containing the sketchbook, and stumbled out into the rainy night.

I checked into a cheap hotel. Soaked through, stomach pain torturing me like death by a thousand cuts. I shook as I pulled out the sketchbook. The pages were already covered in dense writing. The blue ink was written so hastily that in some places it had bled through to the other side. “Hey! Fortune teller!” “Are you there? Answer me!” “Fuck! I actually broke my leg!” “That fat bastard crashed into me just now. I couldn’t help it and went for the save anyway… My leg’s broken and my forehead’s cut open too, just like you said. Three stitches.” “I’m at the hospital now. It hurts like hell.” “Violet just cried. Her eyes are swollen like peaches. My heart aches. I wanted to yell at her to leave, but thinking about what you said, I didn’t dare shout.” “Hey, whoever you are from the future.” “If you can predict the future, then tell me. If I love her this much, why would I change later?” “Did Violet do something to betray me?” Looking at line after line, my tears broke free. Even at this point, eighteen-year-old Ethan was still trying to make excuses for his future self. He’d rather suspect I did something wrong than believe he was the one who changed. I picked up the pen. The IV tape still clung to the back of my hand, damp with rain. “She did nothing wrong.” “She lived with you in a basement apartment for three years. To save money for your startup equipment, she ate only one meal a day.” “She drank with clients until she had stomach bleeding, all for your business.” “To have your baby, she took countless ovulation shots. Her stomach was covered in needle marks.” “Ethan Blackwell, you’re the only one who turned rotten.” “You were blinded by money. You found her haggard and plain. You thought Sophia was young and exciting and could give you thrills.” I wrote quickly. Each word was like flesh carved from my heart. The other end was silent for a long time. So long I thought he’d run away scared. Suddenly, a line slowly appeared, the strokes no longer bold but carrying a tremor. “That bastard… is really me?” “Made Violet live in a basement? Made her drink until she had stomach bleeding? And found her unattractive?” “Fuck that guy!” “I’d break future me’s legs! What kind of inhuman behavior is that?!” “System… no wait, goddess, tell me what I should do now. What do I need to do to not become that animal?” “What do I do to protect Violet?” My heart felt like it was being carved with a knife. It’s too late. The current Violet is already rotting in the mud. “Ethan Blackwell,” I wrote. “The only solution is to leave her.” “Don’t go to the same university as her.” “Don’t confess your feelings to her.” “Don’t let her fall in love with you.” “Bridge to the south, city to the north. You two should never have met.”

“Impossible!” The response on the other end was decisive. “Leave Violet? Only over my dead body!” “If future me is a bastard, then I’ll change starting now! I won’t start a business, okay? I’ll just be a PE teacher and stay with her every day. I won’t get involved in those messy circles!” “That Sophia, right? I’ll expose her true colors to Violet right now!” “I refuse to believe that these 130 pounds of bones can’t beat some bullshit destiny!” Looking at the boy’s bold declarations, I smiled bitterly. If fate were that easy to change, it wouldn’t be fate. But in my heart, a faint hope unexpectedly arose. What if… what if he really could do it? Just then, another line suddenly appeared in the notebook, urgent and panicked. “Wait! You said future me has an affair with Sophia? Is that woman really manipulative?” “Violet just told me that Sophia heard I’m hospitalized and is bringing me hot soup.” “That idiot Violet even said Sophia’s a good person!” “No way. I need to handle this.” My heart clenched. During that summer after senior year, something like this did happen. Sophia came to the hospital to see him. While I went out to get water, she deliberately spilled hot soup on herself, pretending to be scalded, and implied I hadn’t secured the thermos properly. At the time, although Ethan said nothing, looking at Sophia’s reddened thighs, his eyes flashed with sympathy. That was the first time Sophia planted the seed in his heart that “Violet is clumsy and not gentle enough.” “Listen, Ethan Blackwell.” I took a deep breath and began writing. “Sophia will arrive at your hospital room in ten minutes. She’ll be wearing a white dress with a very low neckline.” “While Violet goes to wash fruit, she’ll deliberately spill soup on her own leg, then frame Violet for it.” “Don’t believe her!” The writing on the other end flew across the page. “Got it! Damn, trying to pull this shit on me?” “Watch me take her down!” … I held the sketchbook, curled up on the hotel bed, sleepless all night. The next morning, I woke to severe abdominal pain. The stomach cancer symptoms were getting worse. I was even vomiting blood now. I struggled to get up, wanting to pour some water, only to discover the sketchbook had an entire new page of writing. The handwriting was cheerful, radiating a sense of sweet revenge. “Nice!” “You’re amazing! Sophia really came, dressed so… scandalous.” “As soon as Violet went to the bathroom, she came over with the soup and was about to pour it on her own leg. I shouted, ‘What are you doing! Trying to scam me?!’” “Then I ‘accidentally’ knocked the whole bucket of scalding soup onto the floor by her feet. It splattered oil spots all over her, but didn’t burn her. Just scared her into screaming.” “Violet ran out and I immediately played pitiful, saying Sophia tried to force-feed me soup, and when I refused, she was going to pour it on me.” “You should’ve seen Sophia’s face. Red, then white, then green. Spectacular!” “Violet kicked her out and apologized to me for not protecting me. Man, my girl is so cute.” Looking at these words, color finally returned to my pale face. It really… changed? Just then, my phone suddenly rang. An unknown number. I answered. A familiar yet strange voice came through, carrying a trace of youthful tone mixed with adult exhaustion. “Hello, is this Violet?” I froze. It was Ethan Blackwell’s voice. But not the cold Ethan. Not the furious Ethan from last night either. This voice carried confusion and caution. “I’m… Ethan Blackwell.” “Last night I had a very long dream. I dreamed that when I was eighteen, I kicked your best friend out of my hospital room…” “Violet, did we… miss something?” My phone clattered to the floor. Memory was being rewritten.

The other end of the phone was a suffocating silence. Rain hammered against the window, just like the chaotic reality of this moment. “Speak.” My knuckles turned white gripping the phone. “What else did you see in your dream?” Ethan’s voice sounded somewhat dazed, even carrying unprecedented self-doubt. “I dreamed… Sophia spilled soup on the floor and I scolded her. Then you protected me like an angry little cat.” “But Violet, that’s wrong.” His tone suddenly turned cold. The rationality of twenty-five-year-old Ethan Blackwell returned. “My memory clearly says you didn’t hold the thermos steady and burned Sophia. I even ignored you for three days over it. Why would I dream something completely opposite?” My heart sank. So when the past changed, the current version of him didn’t simply disappear or reset. Two sets of memories were battling in his mind. One was the cruel reality weathered by seven years. The other was the newly corrected memory, still carrying youthful passion. “Ethan Blackwell,” I asked softly, “which do you believe?” “I…” He was at a loss for words. Just then, Sophia’s saccharine voice came through the phone. “Ethan, who’s calling? It’s so late.” Then came the rustling of fabric. Ethan seemed to cover the receiver, but I still faintly heard his murmur: “Nobody. Insurance telemarketer.” Insurance telemarketer. His wife of seven years had become an insurance telemarketer in his words. “Violet, I don’t know what method you used to make me have these weird dreams, but I’m warning you. Don’t try any superstitious nonsense to win me back. We signed the agreement. Stop pestering me.” The call ended. I looked at the darkened screen. The twisting pain in my stomach attacked again. I rushed to the bathroom and vomited until I was dizzy. This time, it was all dark red blood clots. I rinsed my mouth and looked at myself in the mirror. Pale as a ghost. It’s not over yet. As long as the current Ethan Blackwell remained this way, it meant the changes to the past weren’t thorough enough. A single event wasn’t enough to shake seven years of cause and effect. I dragged my weak body back to the bed and opened the sketchbook. The writing had already updated. “Why aren’t you responding?” “I just got Violet to sleep. Her eyes are swollen like two peaches. It breaks my heart.” “But that Sophia really is trouble. I just saw her leaving. The look in her eyes was vicious and scary. What should I do next?” I picked up the pen. My hand shook, but my eyes were unusually determined. To change the ending, I had to cut it off at the source. “Ethan Blackwell, next comes college application season.” “Originally, Violet gave up her acceptance to the New York Academy of Fine Arts to be with you. She switched to Fashion Design at Riverdale Tech, only because it was two blocks from your Sports University.” “This time, you must stop her.” “Let her go to New York. Let her chase her dreams. Don’t let her sacrifice herself for you.”

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My father has severe face blindness. Forty years ago, someone drugged my father, and he spent the night with my mother. But he couldn’t tell them apart—he married the mistress who took my mother’s place. Later, my father and the mistress became high society’s model couple. Meanwhile, my mother was slut-shamed for being pregnant out of wedlock and never married. Forty years passed. Thanks to my exceptional beauty and talent, I married into the Caldwell family—the wealthiest family in New York—and gave birth to an heir. The day my son brought his girlfriend home, I froze. Looking at her face—three parts similar to my father’s—and learning her name, I knew immediately: she was my father’s granddaughter. She wants to marry my son? In her dreams. “Mom, this is Rayna. My girlfriend. I brought her home to meet you.” I shifted my gaze to Rayna Smith. She was undeniably beautiful, radiating the delicate air of someone raised in luxury. She held a gift in both hands, offering it to me with a sweet voice: “Hello, Mrs. Caldwell. This is a gift I brought for you.” I didn’t take it. The living room fell silent. Adrian looked at me, then at her, calling softly: “Mom?” I didn’t look at him, only saying: “Adrian, go upstairs. I want to talk with Miss Smith privately.” He hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.” Only Rayna Smith and I remained in the living room. The moment Adrian left, the sweet smile on Rayna’s face vanished completely. She tossed the gift onto the table and looked me up and down without courtesy. “Mrs. Caldwell.” She spoke, her voice the same but her tone dripping with superiority. “You sent your son away to lecture me?” I said nothing. “Fine, let’s lay our cards on the table.” “I’ve heard about you. You’re from out of town, no background, married into the wealthiest Caldwell family purely by luck.” “I know your type—women without background who can’t stand seeing someone like me with good breeding. You’re afraid I’ll marry in and steal your spotlight, right?” “You know perfectly well that the only thing you have going for you is that face. Unfortunately, faces age.” Rayna’s gaze held a condescending scrutiny. “But I’m different.” “My grandfather, Richard Smith, is a billionaire in New York. I attended the best private schools and moved in New York’s top socialite circles.” She paused, as if giving me time to digest this information. “Mrs. Caldwell, I’ve looked into you. You have no family. Your parents are long gone.” “Someone with your background could only marry into the wealthiest Caldwell family because Mr. Caldwell liked you. But how long does a man’s affection last?” “You’re forty now, right? In a few years when age catches up with you, what will you have to compete with those young girls?” “But I’m different. I have the Smith family behind me. Even if things don’t work out with Adrian, I’m still a Smith family granddaughter. No one dares touch me.” “And you? Without the Caldwell family, what do you have left?” She looked at me like I was pitiful. “Mrs. Caldwell, be smart. If I really want to marry into the Caldwell family, you can’t stop me.” “Rather than making things ugly, give me this favor now. After I marry in, I’ll still show you some respect.”

My expression didn’t change. I set my teacup on the table with a crisp sound. “Are you finished?” Her smile froze. I looked at her. “You say you’re the Smith family’s beloved granddaughter—do you know how your grandmother married into the Smith family?” Rayna frowned. “What do you mean?” I smiled. “You want to enter the Caldwell family?” “Dream on.” Rayna shot to her feet. “Mrs. Caldwell, you’d better think carefully. After how you treated me today, when I marry in, we won’t have a good mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relationship!” I laughed coldly. “Don’t worry. As long as I’m here, you’ll never marry into the Caldwell family.” She grabbed her bag from the table and turned to leave. “You’ll regret this!” Regret? The biggest regret of my life was not tearing these people’s masks off for my mother to see while she was still alive. Now she can’t see it. That’s okay. I’ll do it for her to see. The next day, the housekeeper came to report: “Mrs. Caldwell, someone from the Smith family is here.” I set down my book. The housekeeper led in a woman. Vivian Smith—the mistress who took my mother’s place all those years ago, now the matriarch of the Smith family. She wore a blue gown with pearl earrings, the picture of luxury. “Mrs. Caldwell, I’m Rayna’s grandmother. I’d like to discuss the children’s situation with you.” She pulled out a document from her bag and placed it on the table. “This is the development rights for the Smith family’s land in the South District. Your husband Marcus Caldwell has been eyeing it for a long time, hasn’t he?” “As long as you agree to let the children be together, this land is the Caldwell family’s.” I looked down at her hands. They were white, delicate, with a gemstone ring on her ring finger larger than my thumbnail. These hands clearly had never touched dirty water. My mother’s hands weren’t like this. Her hands did all kinds of dirty work year-round—dishwashing, cleaning—the dirt under her nails could never be washed away. They were like that until she died. “Vivian,” I looked up, “my son’s affairs don’t need interference from outsiders.” Her expression darkened. “Mrs. Caldwell, though the Smith family isn’t as wealthy as the Caldwell family, Rayna is the Smith family’s only granddaughter. We’ve cherished her since childhood.” “Your son marrying her would be his blessing. You, someone who…” She paused, emphasizing the words “someone who.” “You, someone who married into the Caldwell family halfway through, better know your place.” Halfway through. She chose those words well. “Not enough?” She glanced at the envelope on the table. “Then name your price.” I looked at her face. “Vivian,” my tone was flat, “the Caldwell family chooses daughters-in-law based on upbringing and character. In both areas, neither the Smith family nor your granddaughter seem quite adequate.” “What did you say?!”

Vivian’s eyes locked onto me. “Mrs. Caldwell, do you think marrying into the Caldwell family makes you somebody?” She stood up, looking down at me. “You, a woman of unknown origins with no family background—what got you where you are today? Don’t you know in your heart?” Her gaze swept down from my face like a knife, from chin to chest. “Old Richard and I have spent forty years building roots in New York, accumulating connections and relationships you can’t buy by serving a man for a few years. Don’t refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit.” I looked at her calmly. People who steal others’ lives can’t change their core nature. No matter how expensive the gown or how fine the jewelry, that sharp meanness seeps out the moment they open their mouths. “Finished?” I stood up, took the envelope from the table, and pushed it back into her hands. “Vivian, please leave. Your granddaughter’s matter is not up for discussion.” As the door closed, I heard from behind: “Ungrateful thing.” I smiled slightly. When my mother went to the Smith house to find my father years ago and was driven out, she heard the exact same words. Identical. That evening, Adrian knocked on my door. “Mom, can I come in?” He sat across from me, silent for a long while. “Mom, about Rayna… I want to know why.” I looked into his eyes. Very serious, but without anger or interrogation. He’d always been like this—obedient and never causing me worry. “Mom,” he said again, “you must have your reasons for not approving of Rayna. I just… want to know why.” My hand rested on my knee. I clenched it, then released. Not yet time. “Adrian,” I said, “Mom can’t tell you right now. But do you trust me?” He looked at me without hesitation. “I do.” He stood up, walked to the door, then turned back. “Mom, I’ve already told Rayna to go back. Until you approve, I won’t bring her home again.” The door closed. I sat there, my eyes warming. This child had never given me a day of worry since he was small. When he started kindergarten, while other children cried and fussed, he didn’t cry. He held my hand and said, “Mommy, go to work. I’ll be good.” I’m not trying to break up a romance, but his grandfather and Rayna Smith’s grandfather are the same person. By all rights, I could never approve this marriage. The next day. When the housekeeper came in, her expression was odd. “Mrs. Caldwell, Mr. Smith is here.” My hand clenched inside my sleeve. “Show him in.” When he walked in, I recognized him immediately—the man my mother thought about for decades, my biological father. His hair had gone completely white but was neatly combed. He wore a black Mandarin-collar suit with pure gold buttons on the cuffs that caught the light. Two burly bodyguards followed him. Quite the display. He stood at the door, his gaze sweeping over me without any reaction. He didn’t recognize me. He never knew he had a daughter like me in this world.

“Mrs. Caldwell.” He nodded, his voice unhurried—the kind of composure cultivated by decades of being respected. “Pardon the intrusion. I’m Richard Smith.” “Mr. Smith, please sit.” He sat down, looking up at me. “Mrs. Caldwell, I’m here today about the children.” He paused and smiled. “Rayna is my granddaughter. She’s been spoiled since childhood, but she’s not bad-hearted. If the young people get along, we elders should help them if we can.” He set down his thermos and interlaced his fingers over his knee. “I know Mrs. Caldwell fought her way up on her own. Not easy. No family wealth, no backing—getting where you are today alone is truly admirable.” “But precisely because it wasn’t easy, you should understand better—some opportunities, once missed, are gone forever.” He pulled out a document from his briefcase and pushed it across the table. “This is a three-year strategic cooperation framework between the Smith and Caldwell families. As long as the children’s matter is settled, we can sign this cooperation tomorrow.” He looked at me with a certain confidence in his eyes. The confidence of someone who’s been respected all their life and assumes their requests should be granted. I didn’t move. “Mrs. Caldwell.” His tone remained unhurried. “You’re still young. Though the Caldwell family is the wealthiest, their foundation isn’t deep enough. With Smith family support, your position in the Caldwell family will be more secure.” He was coaching me. He was telling me that as a woman who married into the Caldwell family halfway through, with no background or backing, I needed Smith family support to secure my position. He didn’t know. The woman sitting before him was his daughter whom he’d never met. Forty years ago, he personally drove my mother out of New York. Forty years later, he sat here, looking down at me, asking me to give his granddaughter a chance to marry into the Caldwell family. “Mr. Smith,” I looked up into his eyes, “my son’s affairs don’t need interference from outsiders.” His brow furrowed slightly. “Outsiders?” His expression darkened. “Mrs. Caldwell, aren’t you taking yourself too seriously?” “I came here personally as a courtesy. In New York, people I’d personally visit can be counted on one hand.” He looked at me, his gaze turning cold. “But since you’re being ungrateful…” “Remember this—today you rejected me. Whatever consequences follow, don’t say I didn’t warn you!” After Richard Smith left, New York’s elite circles were full of gossip about me. “Mrs. Caldwell won’t agree to her son marrying the Smith family granddaughter? Who does she think she is?” “I heard she’s from out of town, no roots or foundation, got her position years ago by her looks.” “Richard Smith personally visited and she still played hard to get? She really doesn’t know her place.” I sat at home, reading messages on my phone one by one. Someone sent me anonymous texts: “Who do you think you are? Without the Caldwell family, you’re nothing.” Someone left comments on Caldwell Corporation’s page: “Mr. Caldwell, control your wife. Don’t let her ruin the Smith-Caldwell cooperation.” Others dug up photos from my youth, saying I’d had plastic surgery, that I’d climbed up by escorting clients. Each comment had hundreds of people agreeing. I didn’t delete them. Didn’t respond either. A week later. New York’s largest charity auction gala. The Smith family was one of the hosts. In the banquet hall, Rayna Smith held Richard Smith’s arm, smiling radiantly. When Rayna saw Adrian, her smile froze momentarily. She hurried over and grabbed Adrian’s hand. “Adrian, why haven’t you answered my messages these past few days?” Adrian glanced at me and pulled his hand away. “Rayna, until my mother approves of us being together, we should keep our distance.” Rayna’s face paled. She turned to look at me, her eyes filled with tangible hatred. “Mrs. Caldwell, are you satisfied now?” I ignored her. The gala began with Richard Smith taking the stage for opening remarks. “Distinguished guests, thank you all for your years of support.” He stood on stage, smiling broadly. “Today, besides the charity auction, I have happy news to announce.” The audience quieted. “My granddaughter Rayna Smith and Mr. Adrian Caldwell of the Caldwell family are in love and will soon be married. The Smith and Caldwell families will become in-laws.” Applause erupted. He looked at me with triumphant confidence in his eyes. As if the Caldwell family was already in the Smith family’s pocket. I stood up. “Mr. Smith.” The applause stopped. Everyone looked at me. I walked onto the stage and stood before him. “Mr. Smith, who told you the two families were becoming in-laws?” His smile froze momentarily. “The young people are in love, we elders—” “I don’t agree!” The room erupted. Richard Smith’s face darkened. “Mrs. Caldwell, whatever you want to say, we can discuss privately. With so many people here today—” I turned to face the hundreds of eyes below. “Richard Smith, do you know what you’re doing?! You’re having your biological granddaughter and biological grandson get engaged—do you want the world to laugh at you?!”

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During the school fitness test, Joanna, the billionaire’s daughter, suddenly collapsed. Peyton, the cheerleading captain, held up her phone, her voice trembling with excitement. “Everyone stay calm! Nobody call 911!” She frantically tapped her screen, shoving the AI app’s Q&A page in everyone’s faces. “It’s the AI era—everyone can be a doctor now.” “Her dad’s a billionaire! If we save her, the reward will be at least a million dollars.” “Why let the hospital make this money when we can take it ourselves!” In my past life, I snatched the phone away and called 911, pointing at her nose and yelling that AI couldn’t replace doctors—who would take responsibility if something went wrong? The ambulance arrived quickly, and Joanna survived. The billionaire was overwhelmed with gratitude and immediately adopted me as his goddaughter. But Peyton was expelled because of this. Her parents both lost their jobs. Unable to handle the blow, she jumped into the river and killed herself. My boyfriend cornered me on the rooftop, cursing me for being a busybody. “If it weren’t for you, Peyton wouldn’t have died!” He wrapped his hands around my neck and pushed me off. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the fitness test. This time, I’m going to watch Peyton dig her own grave!

After hearing Peyton’s words, the whole class erupted. “Peyton, are you serious?” “If we save Joanna, will her dad Joshua really give us a million dollars?” Peyton held up her phone, her voice cracking with excitement. “Would I lie about this?!” “I did my research. The doctor who operated on Joanna a couple years ago was just a salaried employee. This year he suddenly bought a penthouse downtown worth nine million!” “What does that tell you?” “If we save Joanna, Joshua definitely won’t be stingy. We’re about to get rich!” “But… is AI really reliable?” someone hesitated. Peyton snorted coldly. “Why wouldn’t it be?” “When you have a headache or fever, who doesn’t ask AI first?” “Besides, you think doctors are so great? Videos have exposed them—when doctors face tough cases, they also ask AI software.” “It’s the AI era. Everyone can be a doctor. Why let the hospital make this money when we can take it ourselves!” Hearing this, I almost laughed from anger. AI isn’t a doctor. It doesn’t have medical qualifications, and sometimes its treatment plans are complete nonsense. If something goes wrong during the procedure, it could cause a disaster. In my past life, I repeatedly explained this to my classmates. Joanna was having a heart attack and urgently needed to be sent to the hospital for emergency treatment. But they were stubborn, and instead questioned whether I was trying to sabotage everyone’s chance to get rich. Finally, in a fit of anger, I grabbed the phone and called 911, which saved Joanna’s life. This life, I don’t want to explain anymore. If they insist on digging their own graves, then I’ll let them! I want to see if they can handle Joshua’s fury when things go wrong. While I was deep in thought, my roommate Lena came over. “Paige, that’s a million dollars! Are we about to get rich?” In my past life, when Joshua found out Joanna had nearly been denied treatment, he was furious and wanted to hold the entire class accountable. I knelt down and begged him to spare everyone. But later, when Mason led people to corner me on the rooftop to avenge Peyton, Lena was the first to rush out and kick me hard. “Paige, if it weren’t for you, I’d already be rich! You ruined my life!” The excruciating pain of falling from the rooftop seemed to resurface. I clenched my teeth and balled my fists tightly. “AI isn’t reliable. I’d advise you not to delude yourself.” At that moment, Peyton had already opened the AI app and quickly typed a line: [Sudden heart attack, how to treat?] While operating, she lowered her voice to instruct everyone. “Nobody breathe a word of this to anyone. If it works, we’ll split the money evenly.” “To prevent anyone from sneaking out to call an ambulance, we’ll watch each other. I’m going to call roll now. Answer when your name is called.” “Mason.” “Here.” “Lena.” “Here.” … As one name after another came out of her mouth, I couldn’t listen anymore and turned to leave. Behind me came Peyton’s shrill shout. “Paige! Where are you going? You’re not planning to snitch and keep all the money for yourself, are you?” I frowned, about to answer, when my boyfriend Mason’s face darkened and he shouted angrily. “Paige, how can you be so selfish? Peyton knows to share the money with everyone, unlike you—you’re such a selfish person. No wonder nobody likes you!” In my past life, it was him who pushed me off the rooftop with his own hands. He also rallied all the classmates to give false testimony to the police, saying I committed suicide because I couldn’t handle academic pressure. Looking at that face before me, I suppressed my hatred and spoke coldly. “Fine, then let’s break up. I find you disgusting too!” After saying that, I turned around, preparing to leave. But someone grabbed my wrist.

I turned around. Peyton looked at me with red eyes, her face full of grievance. “Paige, I know you don’t like me, but you can’t hurt everyone.” I frowned, not understanding what she meant. Peyton pointed at the classmates behind her and said, “Daniel—his dad has cancer. To raise the 20,000 dollars for surgery, his mom runs a breakfast stand, working from dawn to dusk every day.” “Fiona—her family is on welfare. Her dad said there’s no money for tuition and plans to make her drop out next semester to work.” “And Lena—her family favors sons over daughters. She earns her own tuition. If she had this money, she’d be set for all four years of college.” … Getting emotional, Peyton shed tears. “Paige, if you don’t like me, that’s fine.” “But they’re different. Their families are really struggling and need this money to get through hard times.” “Can’t you just be kind and share this life-saving opportunity to get rich with everyone? Please?” Before I could say anything, the surrounding classmates angrily surrounded me, pointing and criticizing. “Paige, how can you be so selfish?” “No wonder Mason is disgusted by you. I’d dump you too.” “Exactly! A selfish, heartless woman like you doesn’t deserve to be our classmate!” I almost laughed from anger. For money, they delayed Joanna’s emergency treatment, and they still had the nerve to call me selfish? At this moment, Joanna’s face had lost all color. She clutched her chest, her lips purple, her voice hoarse as she called out, “Help… help me…” My heart sank. Because of heavy rain, this fitness test had been temporarily moved indoors to the badminton hall. The teacher had just left for something. And before entering, I’d put my bag in the storage locker outside—I’d have to go out to make a call. This meant that in the vast badminton hall, I couldn’t find anyone to help. But Joanna was having a heart attack. She couldn’t hold on much longer. Looking at Joanna curled up in pain, I realized she was innocent. Why should she lose her life because of these people’s greed? At this thought, I gritted my teeth, rushed to Joanna’s side, quickly helped her lie flat on the ground, and anxiously shouted, “Joanna, where’s your medication?” “Your heart attack medication—where did you put it? I’ll get it right away!” Joanna’s lips trembled as she struggled to squeeze out a few words. “In… in the storage locker by the gym entrance… white bottle…” Before she could finish, her eyes closed and she passed out. I didn’t have time to think. I immediately stood up and rushed toward the door. But just as I reached the entrance, Mason blocked my way. “No way! Peyton said you can’t leave.” “Who knows if you’re going out to get medicine or to tip someone off.” I almost thought I’d heard wrong. “Mason, are you insane?” I stared at him intensely, trembling all over with urgency. “Can’t you see Joanna’s face is completely white? She’s already passed out and can’t hold on much longer!” “She needs her medication, or she’ll really die!” Mason frowned slightly. His scrutinizing gaze swept back and forth between the collapsed Joanna and me, as if assessing whether I was lying. Just as he hesitated, Peyton’s voice came from behind. “Paige, what’s the rush?” She walked over slowly, arms crossed, speaking unhurriedly. “Didn’t I tell you? With the AI app, everyone can be a doctor.” “Not just minor illnesses like Joanna’s—even if someone’s heart stops, it can provide a plan to revive them!” Hearing this, everyone exclaimed in shock. “Really? That amazing?” “Then why even go to hospitals when you’re sick? Just ask AI.” “Exactly! Let’s just use AI for medical care from now on. It saves money and avoids getting scammed by hospitals.” “She’s the cheerleading captain for a reason—she knows way more than us.” Listening to everyone’s flattery, Peyton raised her chin and looked at me smugly. I trembled with anger. She kept claiming AI could save lives. But from when Joanna collapsed until now, she hadn’t taken any action or performed CPR. Looking at Joanna lying unconscious with purple lips, I stomped my foot in frustration. Just as I was on the verge of despair, not knowing what to do, suddenly a familiar voice came from behind. “What are you all doing here?”

I whipped my head around. The PE teacher stood at the door, looking over with a confused expression. My eyes lit up, and I was about to explain when Mason spoke first. “Coach, during the fitness test, we discovered Paige falsifying her data.” “After being caught red-handed, she refused to admit it and is arguing here.” As he spoke, he pinched my lower back and leaned close to my ear, threatening in a low voice, “Paige, you’d better know what’s good for you.” “If you expose this and ruin everyone’s dream of getting rich, I’ll never forgive you!” A chill ran up my spine. I stood frozen, mouth opening and closing, unable to say a word. Sure enough, after hearing Mason’s explanation, the PE teacher looked at me with a flash of disgust in his eyes. “You’re Paige, right? Your fitness test score is canceled. You’ll have to retake it next semester.” He coldly announced the result, then turned to Mason with a gentler tone. “Class monitor, I need to step out for something. Keep an eye on everyone and put the data on my desk after class.” Mason nodded. “Don’t worry, Coach.” Watching the teacher’s departing figure, I closed my eyes in despair. But it wasn’t over yet. At that moment, Peyton looked at me coldly and said in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, “Paige, looks like you haven’t given up.” “You were trying to snitch just now, weren’t you? You’re stuck in the mud yourself—why are you trying to stop us from getting rich?” “You’re so selfish and vicious!” “Everyone, don’t you think she deserves to be taught a lesson?” Soon, classmates surrounded me. I frowned and slowly backed away. “This is school. There are cameras everywhere.” “If you touch me, aren’t you afraid of disciplinary action?” “Disciplinary action?” Peyton couldn’t help but laugh. “Once we have money, who cares about some disciplinary action?” “Besides, we’re Joanna’s lifesavers. When the time comes, we’ll have Joshua handle it. Disciplinary action? That’ll be cancelled in a heartbeat.” As everyone gradually closed in, I was backed into a corner. Just as I looked around searching for a way out, suddenly I caught sight of something on Joanna’s wrist. If I remembered correctly, it was the latest sports watch from C brand. Last time I was shopping, the sales associate specifically explained that this watch had an emergency call function. As the billionaire’s daughter, Joanna had layers of bodyguard protection when she enrolled. Her watch couldn’t possibly lack special settings. At this thought, I took a deep breath, pushed past the people in front of me, and ran toward Joanna. “Stop her!” Peyton’s shrill shout rang in my ears. I didn’t care. I rushed to Joanna’s side and pressed the emergency button. The next second, the screen lit up. It connected. Before I could speak, a rough force came from behind. Several male classmates’ hands gripped my shoulders tightly. I struggled desperately but was pressed face-down on the ground. “Still trying to run?” Peyton’s voice came from above. “Paige, it’s one thing for you to wallow in failure, but why are you blocking us from getting rich?” “For someone as vicious as you, if we don’t teach you a lesson, you’ll never learn!” She lifted her foot and stomped hard on the back of my hand. The piercing pain made my whole body shudder. “You still want to snitch, don’t you?” She bent down, a smile on her face but coldness in her eyes. “Everyone, Paige almost ruined our path to wealth. What do you say—how should we punish her?” Lena was the first to raise her hand. “Just make it so she can’t talk, right?” Peyton’s eyes brightened, and the corners of her mouth lifted. “Then I’ll leave it to you, Lena.” Lena agreed and walked in front of me, looking down from above. “Paige, I’m sorry, but blocking someone’s path to wealth is like killing their parents. You brought this on yourself.” Just as she raised her hand, suddenly an exclamation rang out. “Look! Joanna’s heart stopped!”

Everyone turned their heads simultaneously. Peyton, who had been so smug just moments ago, instantly paled. She pulled out her phone, trying to appear calm. “Everyone don’t panic… this is normal for a heart attack!” “The AI app says if someone falls unconscious, you can do CPR and they’ll recover quickly.” Then she looked at Mason behind her, her voice urgent. “Mason, I’ll give instructions, you do the CPR.” “I’ll perfectly capture you working hard to save someone, and then we’ll go claim credit from Joshua.” Mason nodded after hearing this, then followed her prompts and began operating on the spot. But Peyton wasn’t a medical student. She’d never learned first aid or received training. She couldn’t even find the correct position for CPR before having someone press down hard. Suddenly, there was a “crack.” Everyone’s faces changed. “Peyton, are you sure it’s this spot? Why was there a cracking sound?” Peyton’s face was deathly pale, but she still gritted her teeth stubbornly. “That’s right, one-third down the sternum—the AI app says this is the standard position for CPR.” “Maybe you used too much force… be gentler.” Mason didn’t doubt her and continued pressing down. Just then, urgent footsteps came from outside the door. Before anyone could react, the door was slammed open and Joshua rushed in with bodyguards. “Who dares hurt my daughter?” Peyton’s face changed dramatically. She pointed at me lying on the ground, her voice shrill as she shouted, “It was Paige! She’s the one who killed Joanna!”

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I got pregnant at the same time as a doctor from another department. But right after my NT scan, the head nurse came knocking at my door. “The hospital is short-staffed. Management has a rule that only one woman can be pregnant during the same period.” “The slot goes to Dr. Harris this time. You need to get an abortion right away!” I was stunned. “Dr. Harris and I aren’t even in the same department. Our work doesn’t conflict at all.” “Plus, I’m a nurse and she’s a doctor. We’re not even on the same shift schedule.” But the head nurse just stubbornly tapped on my desk. “This is hospital policy. No one gets special treatment!” “Either you abort the baby, or you transfer to logistics. Your choice.” Transferring to logistics meant no hope for advancement for the rest of my career. I’d be stuck making two thousand dollars in base pay. My fingers clenched tighter and tighter. I’d worked at this hospital for eight years. I was the hardest-working nurse on the front lines, winning excellence awards every single year. And yet I wasn’t even allowed to be pregnant. I took a breath and looked calmly at the head nurse. “I agree to transfer to logistics.” Less than a week after I transferred, the department fell into complete chaos.

The head nurse changed her tone, patting my back with forced friendliness. “Chloe, you know the hospital has always been understaffed.” “You’re a veteran here. You need to set a good example and follow orders.” I stared at the eight certificates of excellence on my desk without saying a word. The first certificate came from spending half a year on the pandemic frontlines. The second came from participating in nearly a thousand surgeries without a single mistake. The eighth came from working night shifts every Christmas for eight consecutive years. I’d already set enough of a good example. I’d already followed enough orders. When I looked up again, my voice was soft. “I’m going to see the director.” The head nurse finally dropped her smile, her face turning ashen. She said, “Go ahead. It won’t make any difference.” I took a breath and knocked on Director David Harris’s door. Dr. Melody Harris was actually inside too. What was a doctor from another department doing in our department director’s office? But I figured out the answer soon enough. Melody placed two boxes of tea on David Harris’s desk and laughed lightly. “Uncle David, this is tea from back home. Give it a try.” “Dad said this is your favorite.” David Harris’s face showed an expression of warmth I’d never seen before. “Your father really knows me. That’s cousins for you.” “Melody, go home and rest now. I’ve already arranged for you to have fewer shifts.” “You need to take it easy in early pregnancy. I’m waiting to give my grand-nephew a red envelope.” Melody turned around and brushed past me. She glanced at my belly like she was looking at a piece of dead meat. “Chloe, what are you doing here?” David Harris resumed his businesslike demeanor. “Director Harris, I think the hospital’s arrangement for me to have an abortion is unreasonable.” “My work doesn’t conflict with Dr. Harris’s. I’m the only one pregnant in our department. The work can easily be covered.” But David Harris just lazily lifted his eyelids. “Chloe, this is the hospital’s decision. There’s nothing I can do.” I clenched my fists. “Then why do I have to abort? Why not Dr. Harris?” At the mention of his niece’s name, David Harris shot up from his seat. “Chloe, what are you trying to say?” “Dr. Harris is a top-tier graduate, a rising star in this hospital. It’s perfectly natural for her to be pregnant!” “Who told you not to get pregnant earlier? You’re so old now and suddenly want a baby. Shameless.” But David Harris knew better than anyone why I hadn’t gotten pregnant earlier. When I was younger, I’d thought about trying for a baby. He said the hospital was short-staffed, that I was the most reliable, that I needed to dedicate myself to the medical cause. I listened. And then what? What did I get in return? I grabbed the door handle and pulled it open a crack. “If you won’t handle this, I’ll go to the hospital director for an explanation.” David Harris said nothing, his expression unnaturally calm. When I knocked on the hospital director’s office door, I understood why he’d been so calm. Because on the director’s desk sat two boxes of fresh tea. Identical to the ones Melody had given David Harris. Before I could even speak, the director pulled up a chair and began earnestly. “Chloe, I know you’re here about the baby, but there’s nothing I can do either.” “The hospital does have a rule—only one internal pregnancy slot per year. After all, we save lives. We can’t afford to be short-staffed.” “Why isn’t Melody the one who has to abort?” I continued. The director frowned, seeming to find me completely unreasonable. “Dr. Harris is a young backbone doctor with high education and high qualifications. How can you, a nurse, compare to her?” “Chloe, you’re a veteran here. Be reasonable. Show some spirit of dedication.” I spoke calmly. “Is it because Melody is David Harris’s niece?” The director immediately flared up. “Chloe, what nonsense are you spouting!” “Our hospital maintains high ethical standards. We don’t have that kind of nepotism! You’d better watch what you say.” “Fine. I understand.” I stood up. “Director, I won’t abort. I agree to transfer to logistics.” The director pushed up his glasses, his expression unreadable. “You’ve thought this through? Is it worth sacrificing your career for a baby?” “If you really want a child that badly, I’ll give you special approval for next year’s slot, okay?” I said nothing and left the office. The director had it wrong. Transferring to logistics wasn’t surrender—it was a declaration of war. Since they all looked down on nurses, I’d guarantee that within a week, the department would fall apart.

The next morning, the official document transferring me to logistics was distributed to all departments. At the morning meeting, the head nurse slammed the desk so hard it shook. “Some people put their own selfish interests ahead of the entire department’s reputation. And look at the result—you all saw it.” “Don’t any of you follow that bad example. Don’t think being a veteran employee gives you special privileges. Everyone is equal in this hospital!” The young nurses didn’t dare make a sound, only casting curious glances at my not-yet-swollen belly. I ignored it all and focused on packing up my things. The eight certificates of excellence I’d once been so proud of went to the very bottom of the box. As I carried my things out, not a single person came to help. Even though I’d covered their night shifts so many times. Even though I’d taught them hand-in-hand how to assist in surgery. Only the head nurse looked up at me. She said, “Chloe, you’ll regret this. But it’ll be too late.” But I wanted to say—I won’t. The ones who’ll regret this will be them. As I placed my box on the cart, Melody came breezing into our department again. It seemed her shifts really had been reduced. Otherwise she wouldn’t be so free. Melody held an armful of candy, distributing it to all the young nurses. “It’s a custom from back home—when you first get pregnant, you give everyone candy to bring good fortune to the baby.” Immediately, everyone in the department chimed in. “Dr. Harris, don’t worry. The baby will definitely be born safe and sound!” “Yeah, you’re so beautiful. The baby will take after you and be gorgeous too.” The head nurse’s voice was the loudest. “If you ask me, babies need to know how to choose the right womb.” “Being born to Dr. Harris means a lifetime of happiness. Being born to someone else? Well, that’s another story!” I gripped the cart handle, my lips pressed tight. I said nothing. Instead, Melody walked over with a smile, stuffing the last few pieces of candy into my hand. “Nurse Chloe, I heard about what happened to you. Have this candy for good luck.” “I wish, I wish you success with your next pregnancy.” “Not next time,” I said calmly, lifting my head. “I’ve already applied to transfer to logistics. I’m keeping this baby.” “Dr. Harris, your uncle helped reduce your shifts. Since you haven’t been at work, you naturally wouldn’t know this news.” Melody froze, her face flushing red then white, apparently not expecting me to mention their relationship so openly. I didn’t look at her again and pulled my cart toward the exit. But I’d barely taken a step when I heard the head nurse’s furious voice. “Chloe! Wait!” “Did you take something you shouldn’t have? Put it down!”

I stopped and looked down at the cart. Three large boxes, all packed with my own things. But before I could speak, in full view of everyone, the head nurse rushed over. “Chloe, open your boxes. I need to inspect them.” I blocked her path. “You don’t have that authority.” Though I was speaking to the head nurse, my eyes were locked on Melody the whole time. Because it was after Melody whispered to the head nurse that she called me out. And I’d packed everything under the head nurse’s nose in the first place. Melody stroked her belly, calmly meeting my gaze. But the head nurse had already pushed me aside and turned the boxes completely upside down. “You can’t take this banner. This represents the department’s honor, not your personal achievement!” I pointed at the words on the banner. “The department’s honor? Head nurse, this has my personal name on it.” “Still not allowed.” The head nurse carelessly tossed the banner aside. “These operation manuals and training notes can’t be taken either. These are our department’s confidential materials!” “The preserved flowers from discharged patients can’t go either. They gave those to you because of the department’s reputation!” Eventually, the head nurse even took the half-used notebook and pen from my hands. “These also belong to our department. Chloe, you can’t be a thief!” I looked at the mess on the floor, having no doubt that after I left, all of this would end up in the trash. The head nurse didn’t want any of it. She just wanted to humiliate me. Finally, the head nurse pulled out those eight certificates of excellence. After thinking for a moment, she shoved them into the paper shredder. “Chloe, you earned these honors by relying on our department. How dare you take them?” I listened to the sound of the shredder working. Crunch, crunch. Ten seconds to destroy eight years of my hard work. But I didn’t argue. I didn’t even move. After all, I didn’t care about these worthless pieces of paper I’d earned through self-sacrifice anymore. “Look more carefully. Make sure you didn’t miss anything.” I even smiled slightly. The head nurse seemed surprised by my reaction and froze for a moment. And at that exact moment, Melody stepped forward. “Head nurse, although I shouldn’t get involved in your department’s affairs, we’re all friends, so I’ll speak up.” “The nurse’s uniform Chloe is wearing still belongs to your department. I wonder if it’ll be useful later?” The moment she said this, the department fell silent. I looked at Melody. Her expression was innocent, but her eyes held malice. The head nurse immediately caught on, pointing at my nose. “Dr. Harris is right. Chloe! Take off that uniform right now! It belongs to the department!” Seeing that I wasn’t moving, the head nurse even tried to grab me. I stepped back twice and slowly removed my nurse’s uniform, draping it over a chair. “Very good. You’ve done very well. I’ll remember this.” With that, I pulled my nearly empty boxes and walked out. The moment I turned the corner, I heard footsteps behind me. “Nurse Chloe, wait.” It was Melody. She caught up in a few steps. The politeness she’d shown in front of everyone had completely vanished. She frowned at me. “Chloe, who told you to go to the director and make trouble? Who told you to blow this up?” “Do you know what people are saying about me now? That I used connections to force you out!” “Oh.” I suddenly laughed. So that’s why Melody targeted me today. “Isn’t that the truth, Dr. Harris?” Melody hadn’t heard the groveling apology she’d imagined. Her face instantly flushed red. “Chloe, I really don’t understand why someone with no connections like you acts so arrogant.” I didn’t answer. I just slowly turned around. Melody thought she’d won this silent war, that she’d secured the right to have a child. The head nurse thought she’d won prestige, that she could trample this veteran employee underfoot. But they were wrong. I didn’t care. I didn’t care about competing with them for status. I was just waiting for the moment when the real show began.

The logistics department mainly handled purchasing and distributing basic office supplies. The staff was small. Besides me, there were just a few interns and old employees waiting for retirement. The person next to me was named Luna, a senior doing her internship. She was naturally friendly, helping me unload my boxes with nimble hands while smacking her lips. “Chloe, is it true you transferred to logistics just to have your baby?” I kept my head down, organizing things, and didn’t respond. Who knew if she was like the nurses in my old department—just waiting to laugh at my misfortune and kick me while I was down. The silence grew, but Luna kept talking to herself. “Man, I think that rule is pretty unfair, don’t you?” “You and Dr. Harris are in different departments with different jobs. Both being pregnant wouldn’t affect anything. I don’t know what the leaders were thinking.” “But logistics has no future. Chloe, what are you going to do after you give birth?” “Luna! Don’t talk so much!” someone nearby warned her. “Remember last time you complained to management about logistics’ low pay and got chewed out for a whole morning?” “If it’s not our business, don’t stick your nose in it. Do you want to keep this job or not?” Luna’s hands didn’t stop, helping me arrange my desk as she muttered under her breath. “I just think it’s unfair. It doesn’t affect the department’s work. What’s wrong with being pregnant…” I finally looked up at her. She had a very likable baby face. “It’s fine. Logistics is pretty good,” I said. For the next three days, I calmly went to and from work, doing my assigned tasks. No more endless overtime. No more dealing with patients. The days seemed tolerable. Occasionally, when people from my old department came to requisition office supplies, they no longer spoke to me with the same courtesy. Instead, they were dismissive. The kind of disdain a proper nurse has for someone who coasts along in logistics waiting to collect a paycheck. “Chloe, it’s such a shame you’ve fallen this far.” I handed her the office supplies with no expression. “I think it’s pretty good.” The young nurse curled her lip. “I think you’re just shackled by that baby. Do you really have to have it? Pregnancy hormones are scary.” But she didn’t understand—this wasn’t about pregnancy hormones. It wasn’t just about this baby. I was seeking fairness. Justice. Real equality. Not a situation where someone could pull strings and cut off all my paths forward. The turning point came on the fourth day. I’d just gotten off work when my phone started vibrating. One SnapChat message. Then a second. A third. A fourth. It vibrated eighteen times total. Eighteen times—the exact number of nurses in our department. Each message represented a problem they couldn’t handle, a difficult situation. Before I could even open the chat, the head nurse called. On the other end, the department was in chaos. “Chloe, reply to everyone’s messages right now! Hurry!” I gripped my phone, my voice soft but firm. “Why should I?”

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“Ellie, I need you to call me ‘uncle’ today, and have Max call me ‘dad’.” At the parent-teacher conference, Dad said this with one hand on my shoulder and the other holding my classmate Max’s hand. “Why?” I asked. “Max doesn’t have a father.” He spoke quickly. “He’s in a difficult situation. Just help me out today—let him call me dad, and you call me uncle. Understand?” I didn’t say anything. I just watched his lips move. “It’s settled then.” Dad patted my shoulder. Max’s mom walked over, tissue in hand, her eyes red. “Ellie’s such a good girl, aren’t you? Help Max out.” Dad’s hand left my shoulder, his eyes full of urgency. Those three words were like a switch—suddenly my mind flooded with images. The first time was my seventh birthday. I waited with the strawberry cake Mom baked until midnight. Seven candles burned down to black stubs, wax dripping onto the top strawberry, as red as the blood from when I scraped my knee last time. When he came home, he smelled like hospital disinfectant. He said, “Max had a fever. Mrs. Rivera couldn’t handle it alone. You’re a good girl—we’ll celebrate your birthday another time.” I said okay and picked off that wax-covered strawberry and threw it away. It tasted sweet and bitter at the same time. The second time was right after he bought me a pink bicycle. I could barely ride two meters, wobbling all over, and before I could call him to watch, Mrs. Rivera’s call came through. He lifted me off the seat, put me on the curb steps, and pushed the bike to Max who came running over. “You’re older, so be nice to your little brother. He can’t ride yet—I’ll teach him first.” I squatted on the steps counting ants. By the 127th ant, he finally came back. The little bell I’d saved half a month’s allowance to buy was gone from the handlebars. He said, “Max liked it, so I gave it to him. I’ll buy you a new one next time.” The third time was the parent-child craft competition. We spent half a month gluing together a starry castle, and I placed every single sequin on the windows myself. He said he’d turn it in to the teacher for me. Then I saw the castle displayed in first place at the school exhibition hall with Max’s name on it. He crouched down and touched my head. “Max needs this to get his achievement award. You’re a good girl—let him have it. Next time Dad will make you an even bigger one.” Every time it was the same. He said I was a good girl, so I should let Max have what was mine. I looked up at him, then at Max hiding behind him, and nodded. My voice was just loud enough for the three of them to hear: “Okay, Uncle.” Dad visibly relaxed, smiling as he patted my head, then took Max’s hand. “Max, let’s go. Dad will take you inside.” Max jumped high, waving his Ultraman toy. “Dad, hurry! Let’s sit in the front row!” Max’s mom followed them. She glanced back at me with a look that seemed like gratitude, but not quite. Halfway through the conference, it was my turn to go onstage and read my excellent essay. I stood at the podium watching Dad in the first row peeling an orange for Max. I opened my mouth. The essay I’d memorized perfectly—”My Dad is a Superhero Who Lifts Me Above His Head to Watch Fireworks”—not a single word would come out. After standing there for half a minute, I said quietly, “I’m sorry. I forgot to bring my essay.” When I ran off the stage, my knee hit the corner of a table. The pain made me gasp. The parent-teacher conference ended quickly. We walked out of the kindergarten together. Max kept talking—about how the teacher praised him, how he got a gold star, how amazing his dad was. Dad kept smiling. At the intersection, Max’s house was to the left, ours to the right. When we got home, Mom came out of the kitchen wearing her apron. “How was the parent-teacher conference today?” Dad let go of my hand. “It went well. Mrs. Rivera is raising her kid alone—it’s not easy. I helped out today.” Mom looked at Dad for several seconds. After dinner, Dad went to make a phone call. He stood on the balcony, voice low, but I heard him say “it’s okay,” “it’s what I should do,” “raising a child alone isn’t easy.” Mom washed dishes. I helped wipe the table. “Mom,” I said quietly. “Dad wasn’t my dad today.” Mom’s hands stopped. “What?” Mom turned to look at me. “Today at kindergarten, Dad was Max’s dad.” I spoke slowly, each word clear, just like Dad had spoken this morning. “Dad made me call him uncle. He said Max could call him dad, and I had to call him uncle.” Mom’s throat moved, like she was swallowing something. Then she crouched down and hugged me. “Then from now on, Ellie will just call him uncle.”

From that day on, the word “uncle” was carved into my tongue. It came out automatically. The first time was the next evening when the phone rang at home. I ran to answer it. The moment I said “hello,” I heard Dad’s voice through the receiver. “Ellie, Dad bought you—” “Hello, Uncle.” I interrupted him, my voice flat, like reading words from a textbook. The other end went silent for a long time. “Ellie, what happened that day was wrong of Dad,” his voice dropped. “But Max really…” “Uncle, are you looking for Mom?” I asked again, my finger twisting the phone cord. “Mom’s hanging laundry.” This silence lasted even longer. “Yes, I’m looking for your mom,” he finally said. I put the receiver on the coffee table without hanging up and shouted toward the balcony: “Mom, Uncle’s on the phone.” I said “Uncle” extra clearly, enunciating each syllable like the kindergarten teacher taught us phonics. When Mom came over, she glanced at me, picked up the phone, said only two sentences, then hung up. “Your dad says he’ll take you to the aquarium this weekend.” Mom dried her hands and crouched down to look me in the eye. “It’s Uncle,” I corrected. Mom looked at me for a long time, then gently touched my face. “Right. Uncle.” The second time was that weekend when Mom took me to the supermarket to buy yogurt. I was on tiptoe reaching for the peach-flavored yogurt on the top shelf when I heard a familiar voice nearby: “Max, slow down. Don’t fall.” I turned around and saw Dad pushing a shopping cart. Max sat inside holding an Ultraman toy bigger than himself, a lollipop in his mouth. When Dad saw me, his eyes lit up. He let go of the cart handle and walked toward me, reaching out to hug me. “Ellie, you’re shopping too?” I took a step back and hid behind Mom, clutching her clothes and peeking out. My voice was just loud enough for the nearby aunts picking fruit to hear: “Hello, Uncle.” The aunts’ gazes immediately swept to Dad. They whispered to each other. I heard someone say quietly, “Isn’t that the Johnson boy? Why is his own daughter calling him uncle?” Dad’s face turned red instantly. His hand froze in midair, not knowing whether to advance or retreat. Max grabbed the cart railing and shouted at me: “Yeah! This is my dad! You’re right to call him uncle!” Mrs. Rivera quickly came over and pulled Dad away, smiling awkwardly at my mom. “It’s just me and Max. He’s helping us carry things.” Then she pushed the cart away quickly. I saw Dad look back at me several times, his expression terrible. The third time was Monday afternoon after school. I’d just walked out the school gate when I saw Dad waiting for me. When he saw me coming, he rushed over, holding up a beautifully wrapped box—the limited edition Elsa magic wand I’d begged him for months to buy. I used to remind him about it every day, saying I wanted it for the school cosplay competition. “Ellie, look what Dad bought you.” He held the box out to me, his tone a bit pleading. “The one I promised to buy you. Your favorite.” I stared at the box with Elsa’s picture on it for three seconds, then shook my head. “Thank you, Uncle, but Mom already bought me one last week.” Without waiting for him to respond, I ran across the street with my backpack. Mom was waiting for me at the bubble tea shop entrance, holding my favorite pearl milk tea. When I ran over, I glanced back. Dad was still standing there, holding the magic wand, like a forgotten scarecrow. After that, he came to wait at the school gate for several days in a row. Sometimes he brought strawberry cake, sometimes my favorite fried skewers. But each time I only said, “Thank you, Uncle, I don’t want it,” then turned and walked away. Until three days before the sports meet, he didn’t bring any gifts. He just stood at the gate. His back was straight, like a kindergartener about to take a pledge. “Ellie,” he crouched down, his hands pressing on my shoulders with some force. “Next week is the kindergarten sports meet. Dad will definitely be there. This time I’ll only be your dad, only cheer for you. Okay?” His eyes were bright, almost frighteningly bright. “Dad swears.” He held up three fingers like in TV shows. “If I’m lying, I’ll… I’ll turn into a puppy.” I didn’t say anything. I looked at the tiny reflection of myself in his eyes and nodded slightly. He smiled immediately and picked me up, spinning me around. “Then it’s settled!” I nodded. I said quietly in my heart, I’ll trust him one more time. If he really came this time, I’d call him Dad again.

The sun on sports meet day was so bright it hurt to look at. I stood under the sycamore tree by the school gate half an hour early, waiting. “Ellie, the parent-child relay race starts in ten minutes. Is your dad here yet?” The teacher walked over holding a starter pistol. I stood on tiptoe looking toward the intersection, my neck getting sore, and nodded hard. “He’s coming!” But the gate was empty. The warm-up music started playing. All the children and parents held hands in a circle. I stood alone. The teacher came over and took my hand. “Ellie, let’s do this with Ms. Wilson first, okay?” I nodded but kept my eyes on the gate. During the third section of warm-up exercises, I saw Dad. He was running in, carrying a plastic bag, his forehead covered in sweat. I almost jumped and waved at him. But the next second, I saw him run straight to Max. Max was sitting on the ground hugging his knees, crying. Mrs. Rivera was anxiously making a phone call nearby. Dad rushed over and crouched down, carefully examining Max’s knee. I stood on tiptoe and saw a small red mark on Max’s knee—probably just a scraped patch of skin. Dad pulled iodine and a band-aid from the plastic bag, his movements practiced like he’d done this a hundred times. He said something to Mrs. Rivera while treating the wound. Mrs. Rivera covered her mouth, her eyes red again. The teacher urged the parent-child relay participants to gather at the starting line. I stood in place, watching Dad fifty meters away gently blow on Max’s knee, then scoop him up and walk toward the nurse’s office. “Ellie Miller! It’s your turn!” the teacher shouted beside me. I mechanically walked to the starting line. The referee teacher looked beside me. “Where’s your parent?” “He…” I opened my mouth and saw the nurse’s office door close. “Her parent is here.” Mom’s voice came from behind me. I whipped around and saw Mom running over, pulling an uncle I’d never seen before. Mom was out of breath, her hair a bit messy. “I’m sorry, Ellie. Mom’s late.” Mom crouched down and hugged me. Her arms were trembling. The uncle also crouched down, looking me in the eye. “You must be Ellie. I’m Liam. I’m your mom’s friend. I just heard from your mom that you’re in the relay race. I even borrowed matching clothes. Want to bring me along? I’m really fast—I won first place at my company sports meet last time.” The teacher walked over just then, looking at Liam in surprise. “And you are?” I stared at the smile in Uncle Liam’s eyes, then glanced at Dad who had just walked out of the nurse’s office and was looking this way. Suddenly I raised my hand and pointed at Liam, my voice loud enough for the entire field to hear: “This is my dad!” Time seemed to freeze. Dad stood twenty meters away, frozen mid-step.

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I was kidnapped at five years old. For the next eleven years, I was beaten and abused in the trafficker’s house. On the day I was rescued at sixteen, the police pushed the trafficker in front of me. “Don’t be afraid, child. He can never hurt you again!” I didn’t look at the trafficker. I slowly turned my head, staring at the kind-looking young auxiliary officer standing beside him. “Hello again… brother.” The officer froze. “Little girl, I think you’ve got the wrong person?” “That day, you were standing right next to the trafficker. You said you’d take me to find my mom.” **01** I was kidnapped at five years old. In that moldy, dark room, I was beaten and abused for eleven long years. At sixteen, I was rescued. The fluorescent lights were harsh and white, making every face in the police station look blurred. A middle-aged officer crouched in front of me, his voice gentle. “Don’t be afraid, child.” He pointed to the man curled up in the corner—the man who had raised me for eleven years and beaten me for eleven years, the human trafficker. “Identify him. He can never hurt you again!” My gaze drifted past the trafficker’s sallow face without stopping. I slowly turned my head. My eyes landed on a young officer. He wore a crisp uniform and had handsome features. He was carefully bringing me a cup of hot milk. His face radiated the kind of warmth that could melt ice and snow. “Hello again… brother,” I said, my voice hoarse like sandpaper scraping against itself. The young officer froze for a moment, then gave me a reassuring smile. “Little girl, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else. My name is Ethan Harper. We’re meeting for the first time today.” The entire police station fell deathly silent. The air solidified. Even the distant sound of the printer disappeared. I stared into his eyes, speaking each word deliberately. “I haven’t mistaken you.” “Eleven years ago, at the children’s park on the west side of town, it was you.” “You lifted me down from the slide. The trafficker was standing right next to you.” “You even patted my head and said, ‘Come with me, I’ll take you to find your mom.’” The smile on Ethan’s face froze. The milk cup in his hand crashed to the polished tile floor with a clang. The milky white liquid splashed out like a shattered flower. He suddenly lunged forward and grabbed my wrist, his grip frighteningly strong. “What are you talking about—” He didn’t finish his sentence. His next movement made every officer outside the interrogation room point their guns directly at him. His other hand—the one not gripping me—shot up like lightning. He wasn’t trying to hit me or push me away. He was trying to cover my mouth. It was a pure, instinctive movement to silence me. Just like the trafficker had done countless times over the past eleven years. The cold sound of metal echoed through the room. “Don’t move!” “Ethan! Put your hands up!” An elderly but authoritative voice rang out. It was their captain, Captain Harris. Ethan’s hand froze in midair, just inches from my lips. His pupils constricted violently. Cold sweat slid down his temple, dripping onto the insignia on his police uniform. He looked at me, his eyes no longer kind but filled with the shock and malice of prey that had bitten back. At that tense moment, the interrogation room door was violently pushed open. A middle-aged couple in expensive clothes rushed in, followed by several officers trying to stop them. The woman saw me, tears instantly flooding her eyes as she rushed over to embrace me. “Anna! My Anna! Mom has finally found you!” The man’s eyes were also red. He excitedly grabbed Captain Harris’s hand, speaking incoherently. “Thank you, thank you all! Especially Officer Harper. We heard about it—he was the first one to find the lead and save our daughter!” I was held tightly by Mom. I could smell her expensive perfume. But my gaze pierced through her shoulder, still locked firmly on Ethan. My real parents had arrived. And they were thanking the demon who had personally delivered me to hell eleven years ago. Ethan slowly lowered his hand. Under everyone’s gaze, he raised both hands slowly above his head. The shock on his face had faded, replaced by a deep sense of grievance and sorrow. He looked at my parents, his voice trembling. “Sir, ma’am, I didn’t…” “I don’t know why this child would say such things.” “I really… I was just trying to save her.” My parents froze, looking at him, then at me. Mom released me, cupping my face, her brow furrowed. “Anna, did you… remember wrong?” “Officer Harper is your savior.” I looked at her worried and confused face and shook my head. Memories can blur and get confused. But some things are carved into your bones. Like how eleven years ago that afternoon, when he handed me that candy, his right hand had a shallow, crescent-shaped scar at the base of his thumb. **02** I was taken to a separate rest room. Mom stayed with me. Dad, Captain Harris, and the station leadership were outside dealing with the chaos. The door was closed, but I could hear the muffled sounds of argument outside. Mom kept wiping my face and making me drink water. Her hands were warm, but her eyes were unfamiliar. “Anna, don’t be afraid. It’s all over now.” “You’ll be home soon. Mom and Dad will never let you suffer again.” She chattered on about our future home, my room, the dresses she’d bought for me. I didn’t say a word. After a long time, the door opened. Dad and Captain Harris walked in together. Dad’s expression was grim, his brow furrowed into a deep line. Captain Harris looked serious. He pulled up a chair and sat across from me. “Child, can we talk again?” I nodded. “You said that eleven years ago, at the children’s park, Ethan Harper took you away?” “Yes.” “Are you certain?” “I’m certain.” Captain Harris was silent for a moment, then pulled out a photo from his pocket. It was Ethan’s ID photo—sunny, upright. “He’s twenty-seven years old now. Eleven years ago, he was sixteen, still a high school student.” “According to records, he was an excellent student who even won the city’s Outstanding Student award. Why would he do something like this?” I looked at that photo and shook my head. “I don’t know why he would.” “I only know it was him.” Dad finally couldn’t hold back anymore, his voice filled with suppressed fury. “Anna! How can you be so sure!” “Officer Harper found you to save you! He’s our family’s great benefactor! How can you bite the hand that feeds you?” “Did you stay with that trafficker so long that your mind… that something went wrong?” His words were like a needle, piercing my heart. It didn’t hurt. It was just very cold. I looked at him, this biological father of mine. His eyes held no trust, only suspicion and the irritation of someone eager to distance himself from trouble. “Nothing’s wrong with me,” I said. Captain Harris raised his hand, signaling Dad to stop talking. He continued, “Besides what you’ve told us, is there any other evidence? Or more specific details?” “Yes.” I closed my eyes. That afternoon eleven years ago replayed in my mind like a movie. “He was wearing a blue short-sleeved shirt with a black and white Mickey Mouse print on the chest.” “He gave me a candy. It was a White Rabbit candy.” “After he handed me over to that man, the man gave him a roll of money wrapped in newspaper.” “He also said something.” Captain Harris’s eyes immediately sharpened. “What did he say?” “He said, ‘My sister is sick and I need money urgently. Don’t contact me again.’” After I finished speaking, the rest room fell into dead silence. Dad’s expression changed from anger to shock. Captain Harris stared at me for a full half minute, then stood up. “Rest here. We’ll verify this.” He and Dad walked out together. The moment the door closed, I heard Dad’s urgent voice. “Captain Harris, this… you can’t believe what this child says! She must be…” The voice grew more distant. Mom sighed and sat back down beside me. “Anna, Mom knows you’ve been wronged.” “But Officer Harper… he doesn’t seem like a bad person. And all these years he’s been excellent, with a spotless record.” “Could it be that you want to catch the bad guy so badly that you’re projecting your resentment onto him?” I didn’t answer. I just felt very tired. More tired than being beaten and working every day at the trafficker’s house. That night, my parents took me back to the “home” they had prepared for me. A huge, empty mansion. My room was pink, with a soft large bed and piles of beautiful dresses. Like a perfect princess room. But lying in that bed, I couldn’t sleep all night. The next day at noon, the doorbell rang. Mom excitedly ran to answer it. Ethan stood at the door carrying bags of nutritional supplements and fruit. He had changed out of his uniform and wore casual clothes, looking more like the boy next door. His face showed some exhaustion, but his smile remained warm. “Sir, ma’am, I came to see Anna.” My parents warmly welcomed him in, serving tea and fruit, their mouths full of gratitude and apologies. “Officer Harper, we’re so sorry. Our child doesn’t understand…” “Sir, please don’t say that.” Ethan interrupted Dad. “Anna has suffered so much. It’s completely normal for her to have some stress reactions. I don’t blame her at all.” The more magnanimous he appeared, the more guilty my parents felt. They called me out of my room. In the living room, Ethan sat on the sofa with my parents on either side of him. That picture looked like a family. I was the outsider. Ethan saw me and stood up, giving me a warm smile. “Anna, feeling better?” I didn’t respond. Mom pushed me, lowering her voice. “Anna, call him Ethan. Apologize to him.” I stood without moving. The atmosphere in the living room instantly became awkward. Ethan waved his hand at Mom. “Ma’am, it’s fine. Don’t force the child.” He turned to look at me, his gaze “sincere” enough to be chilling. “Anna, I know you hate the trafficker. But you’ve identified the wrong person. The real bad guy will get away with it.” “Think about it carefully again, okay?” I watched his performance and suddenly found it laughable. Dad’s expression had already darkened. “Anna Williams! I’m ordering you—right now, immediately—apologize to Officer Harper!” Anna Williams. That was my name. A name I’d heard for eleven years but found utterly foreign. Just then, Ethan suddenly walked up to me. He bent down, leaned close to my ear, and said something in a voice only the two of us could hear. “Keep making trouble and you’ll never see your real ‘mom’ again.” My body instantly went rigid. The “mom” he mentioned wasn’t referring to the woman in front of me. He meant the woman who had been trafficked to the same house, the only one who had shown me warmth, who they had beaten to death—”Crazy Mom.” This was our darkest secret. And he knew about it. **03** My blood nearly froze in that moment. “Crazy Mom” was a woman the trafficker had bought from elsewhere. Because she kept trying to escape, they beat her until she lost her mind. She was my only comfort in childhood. She would secretly save food for me and would throw herself over me when I was being beaten. Three years ago, she was beaten to death for taking a beating meant for me. No one should know about this except me, the trafficker, and a few of the trafficker’s accomplices who were present at the time. Ethan… How could he know? I jerked my head up, staring at him intently. His face still wore that harmless, warm smile, but deep in his eyes was an icy mockery that saw through everything. He silently mouthed two words to me. “Shut up.” My parents didn’t notice this brief, silent confrontation. They only saw my face turn deathly pale, my body swaying unsteadily. “Anna, what’s wrong?” Mom supported me, looking worried. Ethan straightened up, showing just the right amount of concern. “Is Anna not feeling well? Maybe I should leave so I don’t upset her.” “Officer Harper, please don’t say that!” Dad panicked. He grabbed me and pulled me in front of Ethan. “Apologize! I’m telling you to apologize!” I looked at my father’s angry, unfamiliar face, then at Ethan’s hypocritical mask. A huge wave of desolation and nausea surged through me. I didn’t apologize. I just looked at Ethan, clearly and deliberately speaking each word. “You weren’t alone.” “Eleven years ago, there was someone else with you.” Dad was so angry he raised his hand. “How dare you keep spouting nonsense!” The slap never landed. Ethan reached out and stopped Dad. “Sir, don’t.” He sighed, like a saint who had endured endless grievances yet remained infinitely tolerant. “The child’s emotions are unstable. Let her take her time.” “I believe she’ll eventually remember the truth.” When he said the word “truth,” he emphasized it, his gaze scraping across my face like a knife. He stayed for half an hour before leaving. As soon as he left, Dad’s rage erupted completely. He pointed at my nose and cursed me for being ungrateful, for biting the hand that fed me, for being a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Mom cried and tried to mediate, saying I had just come home and they couldn’t pressure me like this. The entire mansion was filled with arguments, crying, and cursing. I felt like I’d fallen into a more luxurious but colder cage. That night, I locked myself in my room. I took out paper and pen and began to write. I wrote down every detail I could remember about eleven years ago. Ethan’s appearance and his knowledge of “Crazy Mom” confirmed something for me. What happened back then was far more complex than I’d imagined. He wasn’t just a teenager who impulsively committed a crime for money. There were others behind him. Or rather, there was a network. The next day, I found an excuse to go out, shaking off the nanny who tried to follow me. I went to the police station. Captain Harris wasn’t there. I waited at the entrance. He returned in the evening, looking exhausted. Seeing me, he seemed a bit surprised. “Why are you here?” “I came to find you.” We went to a small noodle shop nearby. I handed him what I’d written all night. “This is everything I can remember.” Captain Harris took it and read each page very carefully. The noodle shop was noisy and steaming hot, but I felt cold all over. This was my only bargaining chip. If he didn’t believe me either… Captain Harris finished reading the last page and remained silent for a long time. He looked up at me. “What you said about Ethan Harper’s appearance when he was sixteen—we checked. His high school photos do match your description.” My heart lifted. “But,” his tone shifted, “he has an alibi.” “Eleven years ago, the day you were kidnapped was a Saturday. His school was holding an anniversary celebration that day. He was the host. Hundreds of teachers and students can vouch for him.” My brain buzzed. An alibi? How was that possible? I remembered so clearly! “That’s impossible!” I cried out. “I couldn’t have remembered wrong!” “Child, don’t get worked up.” Captain Harris’s voice was steady. “Memory can deceive you. Especially after experiencing such great trauma, you might mix up different people and events.” “I didn’t mix them up!” I gripped the edge of the table. Captain Harris sighed. “We’ve investigated Ethan Harper’s family background and social connections. Everything’s clean. His father is a university professor, his mother is a doctor. He’s been the model child since childhood. There’s no reason for him to do something like this.” “All the evidence is in his favor.” “And what works against you is that everyone thinks you’ve lost your mind.” His words were cruel but honest. I looked at him and suddenly asked a question. “What about you?” “Captain Harris, do you think I’ve lost my mind too?” Captain Harris looked into my eyes but didn’t answer immediately. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, took one out, but didn’t light it. He just held it, slowly rotating it in his fingers. After a long while, he finally spoke. “Your details are too specific.” “So specific… they don’t seem made up.” “Especially what you mentioned about the crescent-shaped scar at the base of his right thumb.” My heart leaped. “We managed to obtain his medical exam report from this year.” Captain Harris looked at me, his gaze profound. “There is indeed a scar at the base of his right thumb.” “Very faint. You wouldn’t notice it without looking carefully.” “The shape is exactly as you described.” A huge surge of wild joy and bitterness instantly overwhelmed me. I bit my lip hard to keep myself from crying. Finally. Finally, someone was willing to believe me, even just a little. “So,” I asked in a trembling voice, “you’ll continue investigating him, right?” Captain Harris put the cigarette back in the pack and shook his head. “No.” My heart instantly sank. “Officially, the investigation into him is closed. From now on, he’ll resume all his duties and his reputation will be restored.” He looked at my shocked and despairing expression, adding deliberately. “But unofficially, I’m forming a special task force.” “Just me and you.” “Without alerting anyone, we’re going to dig out the truth from eleven years ago.” His eyes were like a knife hidden in its sheath—calm and sharp. “Child, do you dare use yourself as bait?”

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