Category: English

At my engagement party, I became the biggest laughingstock in the city. My fiancée, Christine, threw an HPV test report right in my face in front of everyone. Behind her, the giant LED screen clearly displayed the results: Test Result: High-Risk Positive. “Ethan, you slept with someone else behind my back. We are over!” The crowd gasped. Right then, my best friend, Caleb, rushed onto the stage and shielded me. His eyes were red, and his voice trembled: “Christine, stop accusing him! Ethan would never do something like this!” “You must be the one with the problem!” The guests below whispered in admiration, praising him for being such a loyal, true friend. But as for me, my blood ran dead cold. Because the exact moment he opened his mouth, a wicked, sneering voice echoed clearly in my head: [Keep acting, you idiot. Last night, Christine was still riding me in my bed.] [This test report is my special engagement surprise for you.] I stared at his back, and a cold smile slowly formed on my face. My best friend. What a great friend indeed. Since you both want so badly to drag me into hell, then fine. Next, it’s my turn.

That thin sheet of medical report felt like a resounding slap across my face before it drifted slowly onto the expensive Persian carpet. The once-bustling, luxurious banquet hall fell into a dead silence. Hundreds of eyes pinned onto me like blinding spotlights. On the big screen, the slideshow of our romantic memories had been forcefully replaced by a glaring medical document. HPV Test Result: High-Risk Positive. The words, highlighted in blood-red, were magnified a hundred times, burning straight into my retinas like a red-hot iron. Christine stood in front of me. Her exquisite, high-society face, which she usually took so much pride in, was now distorted with disgust and rage. Holding the microphone, her voice echoed through the high-end sound system to every corner of the hall. “Ethan, do you have no shame?” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was dripping with venom, each word aiming to pin me to the wall of shame. “I trusted you so much, and this is how you repay me?” “Carrying a disease like that and still dreaming of marrying me? Do you take me for a trash bin?!” The crowd erupted. “Oh my god, he looks like such a decent guy. I can’t believe he has an STD…” “How messy must his private life be? That’s disgusting!” “Poor Christine. She almost married a liar.” Countless looks of disdain, ridicule, and malice pierced my back, locking me onto this stage of humiliation. I clenched my fists, my knuckles turning white. I humiliatedly bent down to pick up the paper. I didn’t understand. I had barely even held another woman’s hand. How could I have this disease? There had to be a mistake! Just as my fingers were about to touch the paper, a hand gripped my shoulder. It was Caleb. My college roommate, my best friend, and the man who was supposed to be my best man today. He shielded me, turning around to yell at Christine: “Christine, have you lost your mind? You know what kind of guy Ethan is!” “This report must be fake! How dare you humiliate him like this in public!” The scent of my newly opened designer cologne wafted off him. Usually, I found the smell refreshing, but right now, it made my chest feel incredibly tight. “Ethan, don’t worry. The hospital must have messed up!” He turned back and whispered to me. His voice sounded anxious, but beneath it lay a faint, almost imperceptible trace of smugness. I gripped his shoulder, grinding my teeth in what I thought was gratitude. Then, a warm breath brushed past my ear. A wicked, cheerful voice—one that only I could hear—exploded in my head. [What a loser. Look at that pale face.] [Of course the hospital didn’t mess up. I paid a fortune to have my name swapped with yours on that report.] [Everything that belonged to you, I’ve already used.] [Your razor, your glass, and… your high-and-mighty fiancée.] [You’ll never get to experience how wild she was in my bed last night.] [The spot of the Miller family’s son-in-law belongs only to me.] In that single second, my blood froze into solid ice. I stared daggers at Caleb’s hand on my shoulder. On his wrist was a brand-new mechanical watch. It was a limited-edition piece Christine had gifted me for my birthday last month. I had been too careful to even wear it, keeping it locked in my drawer. Caleb had asked to borrow it “just to show off at a party,” and he had never returned it. The engagement ring on my finger pressed hard against my bone, sending a sharp, stinging pain through my hand. I shoved Caleb away with all my might. The force caught him completely off guard, and he tumbled onto the stage with a sharp gasp. “Ethan… what are you doing?” He looked up at me, his face a perfect picture of shock and hurt. [What is this psycho doing? That hurt like hell!] The voice in my head chimed in again, crystal clear and brutally sharp. I wasn’t crazy. I had just, finally, woken up. I coldly swept my gaze across the whispering crowd, before letting my eyes rest on Christine’s hypocritical face. “The wedding is off. Christine, you disgust me.” With that, I ripped the boutonniere off my suit, turned around, and walked out of the hall without looking back.

I don’t even remember how I got back to our shared apartment. It was pouring rain outside. I hadn’t used an umbrella, letting the freezing water ruin my styled hair. My custom suit was soaked, heavy and clinging to my skin, matching the weight of my heart sinking into the abyss. My keys scraped against the lock for a long time before the door finally clicked open. The apartment was dead silent. Caleb and I had rented this place together for three whole years. After graduation, to save money and look out for each other, we got this apartment. I used to think we were each other’s strongest support in this cold city. When he had a fever, I stayed up all night taking care of him. When I worked late, he would leave a warm meal on the stove. When I first introduced Christine to him, he had solemnly sworn to vet her for me, promising he wouldn’t let any bad woman trick his best bro. Looking back, every ounce of that trust had turned into barbed wire, wrapping around my throat, drawing blood with every breath. Barefoot, I walked slowly into the bathroom. On the wall, two towels hung side by side—one blue, one gray. The gray one was mine. I remembered folding it perfectly before leaving this morning. Now, one corner was draped messily, damp with a lingering, suspicious moisture. On the sink, inside my gray rinsing cup, there was a faint, smudged streak of dark red on the rim. It was lipstick. The exact shade Christine loved to wear. I rushed to the toilet, my stomach violently churning, and dry-heaved until tears blurred my eyes. All the signs had been there. I had just been blind. Suddenly, my phone buzzed frantically in my pocket, like the dying spasms of a heart. The screen lit up with ‘Jennifer.’ Christine’s mother. I numbly swiped to answer. There was a heavy, suffocating silence on the other end for several seconds. “The Miller family cannot have any stain on our name.” Jennifer’s voice finally came through, cold and hard like iron. “What happened at the engagement party made us the laughingstock of the city.” “We only agreed to this marriage because we thought you were a decent, honest man. Who knew you were such trash?” “You’ve read the prenup. Cheating on Christine makes you the sole guilty party.” “You are leaving with absolutely nothing. Christine’s money, the cost of the party, and all the designer jewelry—I will have her retrieve them tomorrow.” “You better have every single item ready. If even one thing is missing, we will see you in court.” The line went dead. The world fell back into silence. I held my phone. The screen lit up again with a new text from Christine. It was just five words: “Give me back the ring.”

I didn’t reply to Christine. All my raging emotions seemed to have evaporated in the storm, leaving behind a hollow shell filled with icy, calculating hatred. I walked into my bedroom and pulled open the wardrobe. My clothes hung inside, and at the very end was my most prized possession—a custom designer suit jacket. It was my reward to myself after winning Top Sales of the Year last year. I remembered it disappearing last week. I had turned the room upside down, sweating and anxious, while Caleb had simply said, “Haven’t seen it. Maybe you misplaced it somewhere.” Now, it hung there, pristine and spotless. Except for the collar, which carried a very faint, yet incredibly familiar scent. It was the luxury car diffuser scent Christine always used. My fingers turned white as I opened Instagram on my phone. I clicked on a mutual friend’s profile. Three days ago, they had posted a carousel of photos with the caption: “Yacht party this weekend, so much fun!” In one of the group photos, Christine and Caleb stood shoulder to shoulder. Caleb was grinning, wearing my missing custom suit jacket. Christine’s hand was casually resting on the railing behind him, wrapping around him in an incredibly possessive stance. I zoomed in on the photo. Closer. Closer. Until the pixels became blurry. On Caleb’s wrist, there was a black braided leather cord. Hanging from it was a small, simple silver signet ring. It was the only heirloom my father had left me. I treasured it like life itself, keeping it locked at the very bottom of my jewelry box, never daring to wear it. “Ha…” A cold laugh escaped my lips, sounding echoing and creepy in the empty room. Using my towel. Wearing my clothes. Wearing my dad’s ring. Sleeping with my fiancée. Caleb, you really are a piece of work.

Around ten in the evening, the lock clicked. Caleb was back. He carried two large bags of my favorite snacks, his face painted with the perfect amount of worry and exhaustion, as if he were a hero who had rushed back just to save me. “Ethan, look what I got you! Your favorite beef jerky and cheese crackers.” He tossed the bags onto the coffee table. The loud rustle aggressively shattered the silence of the room. “Don’t take today’s stuff to heart,” he said, walking over and reaching out to pat my shoulder. “That bitch Christine didn’t deserve you anyway! I already chewed her out for you!” I sat on the sofa and casually leaned aside, dodging his touch. His hand froze awkwardly in mid-air, a crack appearing on his perfect mask of ‘concern.’ “Ethan, what’s wrong? Are you still hurting?” I didn’t answer. I just looked up, slowly studying him. I looked at his face, his eyes, and the watch on his wrist that belonged to me. This was a face I had looked at for seven years, yet right now, it made me physically sick. He quickly adjusted his expression, continuing his sickening act with a voice full of fake sympathy. “I know you must be feeling terrible right now. It’s okay, I’m here for you.” “Once this all blows over, I promise I’ll introduce you to someone way better. Someone a hundred times better than Christine!” [Ugh, what a loser, sitting there like a corpse.] [The Miller family’s wealth is finally mine.] [Christine was so worried about me when I fell on the stage. She spent hours comforting me in her car just now.] [Once you pack your bags and get lost, the first thing I’m doing is throwing all your trash out. Such an eyesore.] [And that cheap silver ring his dead dad left him? So tacky. I’m sick of wearing it anyway. Tomorrow, I’ll have Christine buy me a Rolex.] The voice in his head grew louder, more vicious, and more arrogant. But with every word, my mind became terrifyingly clear.

I picked up the bag of beef jerky from the coffee table and slowly tore it open. With oily fingers, I pulled out a piece and held it up right before his startled eyes. “Don’t you love this?” My voice was gentle, like a casual chat, showing no emotion. Caleb froze. He clearly hadn’t expected this reaction from me. [What is he doing? Trying to poison me?] [Hmph, like he has the balls. He’s probably just traumatized and trying to please me.] He hid the suspicion in his eyes and forced a smile. “Thanks, Ethan. You always know me best.” He opened his mouth to take the jerky. But a second before his lips could touch it, I flipped my wrist. The jerky brushed past his cheek and fell onto the floor. Then, I raised my greasy hand. And using the back of my fingers, I slowly, humiliatingly tapped his smooth, expensive-skincare-coated cheek. “Caleb,” I whispered, watching his pupils shrink in shock, “You’re dirty.” The fake smile on his face shattered completely. [Does he… know?] [Impossible! I did everything perfectly. Even the hospital report was swapped by someone I paid off. He’s too stupid to find out!] [He must be driven crazy by today’s shock. Yes, he’s lost his mind!] I coldly retracted my hand, as if I had touched garbage. I walked over to the balcony and picked up the tub of dirty cat litter I was planning to throw away. Coming back to the living room, right under his furious gaze, I dumped the entire tub of dirty litter right into the bags of “comfort snacks” he brought. The gray clumps and smelly yellow bits rained down, burying the neatly packaged snacks. A pungent stench of ammonia and decay instantly filled the room. Caleb’s face turned from pale to green, and then to a furious, bright red. “Ethan! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He finally ripped off his mask, screaming as he jumped back to protect his limited-edition sneakers. I tossed the empty tub at his feet. It hit the hardwood floor with a loud, hollow clatter.

“What’s wrong with me?” I finally smiled, but the smile was ice-cold. Ignoring his screaming, I walked straight into his bedroom and threw his wardrobe open. I was greeted by the scent of expensive cologne, along with several luxury brand clothes and shoe boxes I had never seen before. I reached in and pulled out a designer hoodie that still had the tag on. [How dare he touch my things?!] [Christine just bought me that last week!] [It’s a limited edition! I was going to wear it to our date tomorrow!] Deaf to the screaming in his head, I gripped the hoodie and walked back to the living room. “Caleb, you make three grand a month. After rent, you can barely afford to eat. How did you buy this?” I threw the hoodie hard at his face. The price tag showing “$1,800” hit him like a physical slap. “Without eating or drinking, you’d have to save for two months for this.” He stumbled back, desperately catching the hoodie as if it were a lifesaver. “I… I used a personal shopper! It was on sale! Super cheap!” His eyes darted around wildly as he stammered, his voice lacking any real confidence. [He can’t find out. He absolutely cannot!] [If he finds out I’m using Christine’s money and makes a scene at the Miller estate, Jennifer will destroy me!] “Is that so?” I nodded, pretending to believe his terrible lie. I unlocked my phone and opened my banking app right in front of him. “What a coincidence. I wanted to buy some things too. Give me your personal shopper’s contact.” “I recall that after graduation, to make utility bills easier, we set up a joint credit card account under your name.” “And every month, the bank sends the statements to my email.” My finger slid slowly across the screen, my gaze cutting like a knife across his pale face. “Let’s see your statement for this month…” Caleb stopped breathing. He stared at my phone as if it were a live bomb. The screen lit up. The statement was long, and every large expense was clearly documented. Not a single one was from a “personal shopper.” But there was a charge for $1,800 at a high-end department store, and another for $1,200 at a luxury suite. The merchant was the Sky Hotel—a five-star luxury hotel famous in the city. The date of the transaction: last Friday night. The exact night my custom suit went missing. I zoomed in on the hotel charge and took a screenshot. The sharp camera click sounded like a death knell, ending our seven-year friendship. “Sky Hotel, Presidential Suite. Caleb, does your personal shopper also provide bedroom services?” I sneered. Caleb’s lips trembled violently, but he couldn’t squeeze out a single word.

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At thirty-six, I finally qualified for the World Cup for the first time in my career. But the day before the tournament started, the head coach called me in. “Julian, you’re not going.” I stood there, shocked. “Why? I’m the team captain!” The coach pulled out his phone and played a video. On the screen, my wife, Britney, was sobbing in front of a crowd of reporters. “Julian is not only cheating on me, but he’s also abusing me at home! A man like him doesn’t deserve to represent our country in the World Cup!” As she spoke, Britney flashed fake evidence of my infidelity to the cameras. She even pulled down her collar to reveal a nasty bruise on her shoulder. The video already had over ten million views on TikTok. And I, busy with pre-match training, had been completely in the dark. I scrambled to explain. “She’s lying! I was framed!” “This is my only chance to play in the World Cup, Coach. You can’t bench me now!” The coach shook his head helplessly. “Unless you can prove your innocence, I can’t take you with us. The entire internet is calling for your head right now.” I rushed home to confront Britney. She just looked at me coldly and said, “If you don’t drop out, Ronald won’t get his chance to play. Just let him have this one, Julian.” I never expected that the woman I had been married to for seven years would crush my lifelong dream in such a brutal way. Fine. If you want to play dirty, don’t blame me for being ruthless.

I went back to our house and started packing my things. I had been preparing for this World Cup for years. For a thirty-six-year-old veteran, this was my absolute last dance. My study was packed with trophies I’d won over the years, but none of them could compare to the World Cup. Now, my phone was blowing up. The comment sections on my Instagram were filled with hate. [How is this abuser still on the national team?] [Cheater and domestic abuser! Get out of professional sports!] [Ban him for life! Don’t let this trash ruin the game!] I shoved my cleats into my gym bag. Britney walked into the room and blocked the doorway. “Are you done? Move,” I growled, looking at her through gritted teeth. Her eyes were still red from her media performance, but her voice was completely cold. “You can’t leave right now. If you walk out that door, everyone will think you’re guilty.” I let out a harsh laugh. “So I should stay here and let you keep dragging my name through the mud?” Her face paled slightly. “I only got you suspended. I didn’t ask you to die.” “Only suspended?” I threw my phone onto the bed in front of her. “The entire internet is cancelling me.” “My sponsors are dropping me, and the Association is about to kick me off the team.” “You make it sound so simple, Britney.” She pressed her lips together. After a long silence, she muttered, “Once Ronald finishes the tournament, I’ll clear your name.” “We’ll just say it was a misunderstanding. You’ll only be suspended for six months at most.” “Besides, even if you play, our team would get eliminated early anyway.” I stared at her. “A misunderstanding? Then explain the hotel room keycard.” She avoided my gaze. “I don’t know.” “What about the Snapchat chat history?” “I don’t know about that either.” I laughed coldly. “The girl’s name is Hannah Miller. She’s the president of Ronald’s fan club.” “You personally gave her that keycard. And you generated those fake chat logs using AI.” Britney snapped her head up. “So what? Who’s going to believe you now?” I pointed a finger at her. “Last night, I was at the facility preparing for the game. I slept in the locker room all night. I never went to that hotel.” “Do you really think the training facility doesn’t have security cameras?” Britney’s face went completely blank. She lunged forward to grab my jacket pockets, but I grabbed her wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?” She struggled, but she couldn’t break my grip. Looking at her panic, it hit me. She didn’t follow me here because she cared. She was terrified I had proof. Sure enough, she asked, “Are you bluffing? There’s no way you have camera footage.” I let go of her. “We’ve been married for seven years. Do you hate me so much that you want to destroy my entire life?” She got anxious. “Julian, don’t make me out to be the bad guy. I love you. It’s just that Ronald really needs this World Cup.” “He’s been waiting for this opportunity for six years.” “His career was almost ruined by that leg injury back then. He’s been through enough.” I looked at her, my heart turning to ice. “So I’m the one who has to suffer?” Her eyes welled with tears. “You already have so much!” “You’re the captain. You’ve won trophies. You have big sponsors, and millions of fans.” “Ronald only has this one shot.” I laughed, a hollow sound. “So in your eyes, my innocence is just a stepping stone for Ronald’s career.” She didn’t answer. I threw my bag over my shoulder. She grabbed my arm. “You can’t leave. Tell me—is the official team roster still with you?” I paused. So that was what she was really worried about. Ronald had failed his physical exam. He wasn’t even qualified to be on the bench for the World Cup. As the team’s operations manager, Britney had secretly altered his medical records. The final roster sheet was indeed in my bag, but I would never tell her that. “What roster? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She visibly relaxed. “Good.” “Julian, stop being stubborn.” “Just write a statement. Say you only had a private dinner with a fan, but nothing happened.” “Once Ronald finishes the tournament, I’ll have Hannah delete her posts and make a video clearing your name.” “We can go back to how things were.” I looked at her. “We are done. As soon as the World Cup is over, we’re getting a divorce.” Britney’s face darkened. “Do you have to be this dramatic?” “Seven years of marriage, and you want a divorce over this?” I snatched my jersey back from her hands. “I’m not the one who destroyed this family. You did.” I walked toward the door. She screamed behind me, “Julian! If you walk out that door today, don’t you dare come crawling back to me!” I stopped for a second. “Don’t worry. Even if you beg me on your knees, I will never look back.” The next morning, the Soccer Association held an emergency hearing. The hallway outside the conference room was packed with reporters. Dozens of live-streamers pointed their phones at my face. The moment I walked into the room, my teammates quickly looked down, avoiding eye contact. Only Ronald sat near the bench, wearing my Number 10 training jersey. He smirked at me. His face was filled with smug satisfaction. Director Thomas pushed a stack of documents across the table. “Julian, your wife and a fan named Hannah Miller have accused you of using signed jerseys to lure her to a hotel room.” “She provided the room keycard, chat screenshots, and photos of you in the hallway.” “Do you admit to this?” “No.” “Hannah, tell us what happened,” Director Thomas said. Hannah stood up, her eyes red and puffy. She was wearing an Apex FC jersey and clutching a tissue. “That night, Julian DM’ed me on Snapchat, saying he would give me a signed jersey.” “Once I got to the room, he forced me to drink.” “Then… he locked the door. He wouldn’t let me leave.” The room erupted into whispers. I looked at her. “Which night?” Hannah sniffled. “The thirteenth.” “On the thirteenth, I was training alone at the facility.” “I didn’t go anywhere that night. I slept in the facility’s lounge.” “You can check the security cameras. Plus, I have a witness.” I gestured, and one of the facility’s night-shift janitors walked in. Everyone gasped. Britney’s face froze. Hannah panicked. She instinctively looked over at Ronald. Ronald cleared his throat loudly, and Britney immediately stood up. “It wasn’t the thirteenth!” “Hannah is too nervous; she got the date wrong. It was the twelfth.” Hannah nodded quickly. “Yes, the twelfth! I got confused.” I smiled. “On the night of the twelfth, the team had a closed-door training session.” “The security log at the gate shows I didn’t leave until ten-thirty PM.” Director Thomas’s expression grew heavier by the second. Just then, Mateo Alvarez, our backup forward, stood up. “Julian always gets too close to female fans anyway.” I looked at him. “Did you see it with your own eyes, Mateo?” Mateo stammered. “I… I heard it from others.” Another player chimed in, “He always brings girls into the VIP lounge.” I asked back, “Which game?” He couldn’t answer. The room grew louder with arguments. Suddenly, Britney stood up, slamming her hands on the table. “Julian! How long are you going to keep lying?” I looked at her. Tears streamed down her face. “I’ve been married to him for seven years. I know exactly what kind of monster he is.” “He has a terrible temper at home.” “Whenever he loses a game, he smashes things. He hits me. He abuses me.” “Sometimes he even brings random women home and forces me to ignore it.” The room exploded. “That’s disgusting. How is this guy still the captain?” “No wonder the fan came forward.” I stood up abruptly. “Britney!”

Two security guards immediately stepped in, blocking me. “Watch it!” “Are you trying to threaten a witness in front of us?” Britney took a step back, crying even harder. “See? This is how he always acts.” At that moment, the way everyone looked at me changed. It wasn’t suspicion anymore. It was pure disgust. The Association announced my immediate suspension. My captaincy was stripped, and my name was removed from the World Cup roster. The case was handed over to the disciplinary committee, with the police to be involved if necessary. As I walked out of the conference room, Britney ran after me. She was holding my old knee brace in her hands. “Your old injury hasn’t fully healed yet. Don’t forget to wear this.” I looked at the brace. It was incredibly ironic. “You just painted me as a domestic abuser and a predator, and now you’re worried about my knee?” She frowned. “Julian, don’t be so ungrateful.” “I did this for the team.” “Ronald promised me that after the World Cup, he will speak up to clear your name.” I stared at her. “Do you have any idea that if the disciplinary committee rules against me, my career is over? I will never play professional soccer again.” She lowered her voice. “Without solid evidence, they’ll suspend you for a year at most.” “You’re a man, Julian. Can’t you just take one for the team?” “If Ronald misses this World Cup, his life is over.” I didn’t say a word. Her voice softened again. “Just listen to me. Write an apology letter.” “Just say you had some inappropriate DMs with a fan and caused a misunderstanding.” “Give the Association an easy way out, and they won’t dig any deeper.” I looked at her coldly. “I didn’t do it. I won’t write a single word.” Britney’s face soured. “Julian, do you really have to push Ronald to the edge?” “Did I force him to fail his physical exam?” She was left speechless. I turned and walked away. She hissed behind me, “Julian, you’re playing with fire.” That night, things took an unexpected turn. Mateo came to see me. He was waiting at the back gate of the training facility, his hoodie pulled low, clutching a crumpled piece of paper. “Julian, I’m sorry.” I didn’t say anything. He handed me the paper. It was a petition: [Julian’s training methods are abusive. He hoards the starting position and refuses to give younger players a chance.] There were over a dozen signatures and fingerprints at the bottom. Mateo’s voice was shaking. “This is what Britney made us sign.” “She told us it was just a complaint to the Association about your strict leadership.” “She promised that once Ronald took over, we’d get more playing time.” “I had no idea she was going to turn it into a sexual assault accusation.” I took the paper. “Who changed the complaint?” Mateo looked down. “Ronald did. He was the one who brought Hannah in.” “She’s not your fan. She’s the head of Ronald’s fan club.” “The hotel room was booked by Ronald’s personal assistant.” I looked at him. “Why are you telling me this now?” Mateo’s eyes turned red. “I wanted to play, but I didn’t want to destroy your life.” “Julian, I asked the nurses at the hospital about yesterday.” “They confirmed you were there all night taking care of Britney’s mom.” The next morning, I took the original petition, the hospital receipts, and the unaltered physical exam reports straight to the Association’s disciplinary committee. Before I could enter the building, Britney blocked my way. When she saw the envelope in my hand, her face went pale. “Mateo talked to you?” “Get out of my way.” She grabbed my arm tightly. “Just give Ronald one day.” “Just one day.” “Once the first match is over, I’ll make Hannah take down the posts.” “I’ll clear your name myself.” I looked at her. “Then clear it right now.” Tears streamed down her face. “I can’t do it now.” “If I do, Ronald won’t be allowed on the pitch. And… my signature is on the roster change form.” “I was the one who submitted the forged physical exam.” “If this blows up, I’m ruined too.” Finally, she told the truth.

She wanted to protect Ronald, and she wanted to protect herself. As for me, I was never even a consideration. I pried her fingers off my arm. “There’s a follow-up hearing this afternoon.” “If you tell the truth in front of everyone, I will tell the committee that you were manipulated by Ronald.” “This is your last chance.” Britney cried for a long time, but finally, she nodded. “Okay.” That afternoon, the committee reconvened. Mateo openly admitted that the petition they signed had nothing to do with sexual misconduct. Five other backup players also retracted their statements. They admitted the original complaint was just about training disputes. None of them had ever seen the keycard or the chat logs. Director Thomas’s face grew darker. Finally, he turned to Britney. “Britney, you are the team’s operations manager. Who actually drafted this accusation?” Britney sat there, her face completely pale. I waited for her to speak. Suddenly, the door was pushed open, and Ronald walked in. He was wearing my Number 10 jersey with the captain’s armband pinned to his chest. “Don’t worry, Britney. I’m here. Nobody can bully you.” Britney’s eyes filled with panic. Director Thomas demanded, “Britney, what is the truth?” She looked at Ronald, then at me, and finally lowered her head. “The accusation is real.” “Mateo and the others changed their stories because Julian threatened them last night.” I froze. She continued, “He came to see me last night too.” “He said if I didn’t drop the charges, he would destroy both me and Ronald.” Outside the door, two officers from the disciplinary committee walked in. Britney refused to look me in the eye. “I stand by my statement.” “Julian is guilty of abuse, sexual misconduct, and threatening his teammates.” My playing license was confiscated on the spot. As I walked past her, I whispered only one thing: “Britney, that was the last chance I will ever give you.” “And you threw it away.” She whispered back, her voice barely audible, “I had no choice.” “You shouldn’t have stood in Ronald’s way.” At that moment, I completely gave up on her. In the interrogation room, the investigator asked me, “Julian, do you have anything else to say?” I pushed the envelope across the table. Inside were the hospital’s security camera request forms, the original petition, the hotel’s actual booking records, and Ronald’s failed physical exam report. “I am officially reporting Ronald Cole for fabricating evidence and framing me.” “And I am reporting Britney Vance for forging physical exam results and illegally changing the World Cup roster.” I turned my eyes to the TV screen on the wall. The massive stadium was packed with screaming fans. Ronald, wearing my Number 10 jersey, was standing in the player tunnel, waving to the cameras. Up in the VIP seats, Britney was waving excitedly. The TV announcer yelled, “Apex FC’s Number 10, Ronald Cole, is about to play the most important match of his career!” But just as the announcer finished his sentence, the stadium’s PA system crackled to life. “Player Number 10, Ronald Cole, is temporarily suspended from today’s match.” “Please report to the disciplinary room immediately.”

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“Are you done making a scene, Chloe?” Julian wrapped his arm around Scarlett’s shoulders, shielding her like she was some priceless treasure. He didn’t even glance at the blisters forming on the back of my hand. I just stood there, the searing pain on my skin pulsing through my entire arm. Twelve years. I saved Julian’s life from a gang of street thugs when I was only twelve. And now, I was standing in the back kitchen of his engagement party, cooking soup for another woman. How pathetic. This recipe used to be exclusively his. Now, he called my cooking dirty and my love cheap. He claimed it was just a business marriage. He promised he would divorce her and remarry me in two years, saying I could still be his woman in secret. But looking at the burn on my hand, I tasted copper in my mouth. I finally woke up. The special treatment he once gave me could be taken back at any second. Chloe’s POV “Today’s slow-cooked wild mushroom soup is specially made for my husband. He has a sensitive stomach, and this is the best comfort food for him.” Facing the camera, I wore my favorite linen apron and smiled as I lifted the lid of the pot. Steam swirled up, carrying a rich, savory aroma through the kitchen. The live chat on my TikTok stream instantly blew up. “Another day of being jealous of Chloe and Mr. Vance!” “Julian is so lucky to have a wife who cooks like a Michelin-star chef!” “Today is their third anniversary, right? I bet Mr. Vance has a massive surprise waiting for her!” Looking at the comments, I couldn’t help but smile. Yes, three years of marriage. For today, I turned down all my brand deals. I spent the entire afternoon working in this high-tech, ten-million-dollar kitchen Julian had custom-built for me. Julian Vance, the CEO of Vance Enterprises in New York, and my husband of three years. We kept our marriage private to protect his public image. In the business world, they said Julian was ruthless, cold-blooded, and calculated. But only I knew how incredibly sweet he could be. If I casually mentioned wanting a pastry from a bakery across town, he would drive through a heavy rainstorm just to get it for me. When my cooking failed, he would eat every last bite without even blinking, smiling and telling me I was improving. He once told me, “Chloe, just focus on doing what you love. I’ll handle everything else.” “That’s all for tonight’s stream, guys. I’m going to wait for my husband to come home now. Goodnight, everyone.” I ended the stream and looked at the clock on the wall. 11:00 PM. I had reheated the dinner three times already. Julian still wasn’t home. He hadn’t even sent a single text. I picked up my phone to call him, but before I could dial, an Instagram notification popped up. “BREAKING: Billionaire CEO Julian Vance Spotted on a Late-Night Date with Heiress Scarlett Sterling. Engagement Rumors Confirmed?” My hand shook violently. I tapped the link. At the top of the article was a high-definition paparazzi photo. Inside a luxury Michelin-starred restaurant, Julian was wearing the custom Tom Ford suit I had personally ironed for him this morning. He was leaning in, cutting a steak for a beautiful woman. His eyes were incredibly gentle, a look I thought he only gave to me. That woman was Scarlett Sterling, the sole heiress to the Sterling Group. Even more blinding was the massive pink diamond ring sparkling on Scarlett’s finger. I had seen the blueprint of that exact ring in Julian’s study two weeks ago. At the time, I thought it was my third-anniversary gift. Turns out, it was an engagement ring for someone else. The front door clicked open. Julian walked in, bringing the cold night air with him. He loosened his tie. When he saw me sitting motionless at the dining table, he frowned slightly. “Why are you still up?” He walked over and leaned down to kiss my forehead. I jerked my head away, dodging him. A heavy, sweet scent of rose perfume. Another woman’s perfume. It hit my nose. It made me want to throw up. Julian’s hand froze in mid-air, his expression darkening instantly. “Chloe, what are you throwing a tantrum for now?” “What is going on with you and Scarlett Sterling?” I looked up at him, my eyes red and my voice trembling. Julian paused for a second, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “You saw the news?” He pulled out a chair and sat down, his tone as casual as if he were talking about the weather. “The company needs the Sterling family’s backing for our new project. It’s a strategic merger. A marriage of convenience. There are no feelings involved.” A marriage of convenience? I let out a bitter laugh. “A marriage of convenience? Julian, we are legally married! You’re going to marry someone else, so what am I to you?” “Chloe, be reasonable.” He reached out to grab my hand, but I slapped it away. “We don’t need to actually break up. We just file for a paper divorce. Once the project stabilizes in two years, I’ll end the marriage with her and we’ll get married again.” He looked at me, his eyes filled with a patronizing tenderness. “Just deal with it for two years. You can still live here. You’ll still be my woman. I’ll give you everything you want, except the title of Mrs. Vance for now.” I stared at him in absolute disbelief. Twelve years of knowing him, three years of marriage. He used to treat me like a princess. Now, he was asking me to be his hidden mistress. “Julian, you want me to be your side piece?” “Don’t put it so dirtily,” Julian’s face turned completely cold. “I told you, you’re the only one I love. Scarlett is just a business transaction. I won’t touch her.” “What if I say no?” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. Julian stood up, towering over me, his eyes ice-cold. “Chloe, don’t be childish. Without me, your TikTok account, your cooking studio. All of it would be shut down in a day.” “I am letting you know my decision, not asking for your permission.” With that, he turned and walked into the bathroom, not even glancing at the dinner I had spent all afternoon preparing. The bathroom door slammed shut. I collapsed back into my chair, staring at the cold food. Finally, my tears spilled over. The love he gave me could indeed be taken back at any moment.

Chloe’s POV That night, Julian slept in the guest bedroom. By the time I came downstairs the next morning, he was already gone. On the kitchen island sat a stack of divorce papers and an black American Express card. According to the documents, he was leaving me the penthouse, my studio, and several other properties. His compensation was generous and neat. But seeing his signature, “Julian Vance,” at the bottom of the page only made my stomach turn. I didn’t sign it. I threw the entire file straight into the trash can. For the next two weeks, Julian never came home. He was using the silent treatment to force me into submission. Meanwhile, on Instagram, the trending topics about him and Scarlett changed every single day. #JulianAndScarlettYachtParty #JulianVanceSplurgesMillionsOnFiancee #ScarlettSterlingSoonToBeMrsVance Every headline felt like a dull knife carving into my heart. I forced myself to focus on work. In the studio, my assistant, Penny, looked at my pale face with worry. “Chloe, are you okay? Maybe you should take a few days off.” “I’m fine,” I forced a smile. “Did we prepare the ingredients for today’s vegetable soup video?” “Yes, it’s been simmering on the stove for eight hours.” I habitually reached for a bowl to taste the broth. Just then, the glass door of the studio was pushed open. The sharp click of high heels echoed on the hardwood floor. “So, this is Chloe Lynn’s studio? Honestly, it’s a bit cheap.” I looked up and saw Scarlett Sterling walking in, wearing sunglasses, flanked by a group of burly bodyguards. She was dressed in head-to-toe Chanel couture, carrying a limited-edition Hermes bag. She looked like a walking billboard for luxury brands. “What are you doing here?” I asked coldly. Scarlett took off her sunglasses, scanning me from head to toe with a mocking sneer. “Just wanted to see what Julian’s little pet looks like in person.” She walked over to the stove, looking at the bubbling pot of soup, and pinched her nose in disgust. “Smells like trash. Chloe, don’t you know? Julian’s tastes have changed. He only eats food prepared by three-star Michelin chefs now. He’s sick of this garbage you make.” My fingers clenched tightly into my palms, my nails digging into my skin. “Miss Sterling, this is my private studio. You are not welcome here. Please leave.” “Feisty, aren’t we?” Scarlett sneered. Suddenly, she reached out and picked up the bowl of hot soup I had just poured. “Let me taste what kind of magic soup kept Julian amused for so long.” But as soon as she lifted the bowl, she suddenly let go. “Oops!” The boiling liquid splashed directly onto the back of my hand, and the rest shattered on the floor. The sound of breaking ceramic was deafening in the quiet studio. “Ah!” I gasped in agony. The back of my hand turned instantly red, blisters blooming on my skin. “Chloe!” Penny cried out, rushing to grab ice water. Scarlett, however, took two steps back, putting on a show of being terrified. “Chloe! What is wrong with you? I just wanted to try your soup, and you threw it at me?” “That’s a lie! You dropped it on purpose!” Penny yelled angrily. “What’s going on here?” A deep, cold voice came from the doorway. My whole body went rigid. I looked up and saw Julian walking in with fast, angry strides. The moment Scarlett saw him, her eyes welled up with tears. She threw herself into his arms. “Julian, thank God you’re here. I just wanted to visit Chloe and try her soup, but she suddenly snapped and threw the boiling soup at me. It almost burned my face…” Julian’s eyes swept over the broken mess on the floor, finally landing on me. He saw my blistered, red hand. His eyes flickered with a brief moment of hesitation, but it was quickly replaced by cold disappointment. “Are you done making a scene, Chloe?” His voice was heavy with disgust. “Scarlett came here out of goodwill, and this is how you treat her? Since when did you become so violent?” I stared at him, my heart freezing over. My hand was badly burned, my body trembling from the pain. Yet, he didn’t even ask if I was okay. He immediately declared me guilty. “Are you blind, Julian? She threw it herself!” I choked out, my eyes burning with unshed tears. “Enough!” Julian cut me off harshly. “Scarlett was raised in a gentle family. She would never do something so trashy. Stop lying, Chloe.” He wrapped his arm around Scarlett’s shoulder, holding her like she was a fragile glass doll. “If you don’t sign the divorce papers, I have other ways to make you do it. Stop testing my patience.” With that, he guided Scarlett out of the studio without looking back. I stood there, watching their retreating figures. Tears finally streamed down my face, dripping onto the shattered ceramic on the floor. My hand burned like hell. But it didn’t compare to the pain in my chest.

Chloe’s POV My hand blistered badly. Penny cried as she applied soothing ointment to my skin. “How could Mr. Vance do this… He used to freak out if you even nicked your finger with a paring knife.” I stared blankly at my bandaged hand. Yes, the past. Once, when a drop of hot oil splashed on my wrist, Julian had literally replaced every single pan in the kitchen with professional-grade safety gear. Now, half a bowl of boiling soup was dumped on me, and his only concern was comforting another woman’s fake trauma. A man’s love really could vanish overnight. “It’s fine. It’ll heal,” I pulled my hand back, my voice dangerously calm. I thought that was the worst Julian could do. But I underestimated how ruthless billionaires could be. The next morning, I was woken up by Penny’s frantic phone call. “Chloe! Turn on your phone! Look at TikTok right now!” My stomach dropped. I opened the app. The number one trending search was a hashtag with my name: #ChloeLynnPoisonPans I tapped on it. It was a video posted by a massive product-testing influencer with millions of followers. In the video, the influencer was crying, claiming that after using the co-branded non-stick pan I had heavily promoted on my channel, the chemical coating peeled off, causing her family to be hospitalized with severe food poisoning. She showed medical reports and photos of the flaking pan. The comment section was a war zone. “I trusted you! You promoted toxic garbage just for a paycheck!” “You should be in jail!” “Cancel this greedy influencer!” I went cold. That non-stick pan was manufactured by a subsidiary of Vance Enterprises. Julian had personally handed me the product, assuring me that the quality was top-notch and asking me to help boost their sales. Because of my absolute trust in him, I had used my own reputation to vouch for it. How could this happen? I immediately called the brand’s PR team, but the line was busy. In desperation, I called Julian. It rang for a long time before he finally answered. His voice was distant. “What is it?” “What’s going on with the non-stick pans? Why are people getting food poisoning from the coating?” I asked frantically. Silence stretched over the line for a few seconds. “There was a minor issue on the production line. The quality control check failed,” Julian said flatly. I felt like I had been hit by lightning. “You knew? You knew there was an issue and you didn’t tell me? My followers are dragging me to hell right now!” “Calm down, Chloe,” Julian’s voice carried a hint of annoyance. “Mistakes happen in business.” “Then what are we doing about it? The company needs to issue a recall and clear my name immediately!” “No,” Julian refused without hesitation. “Why?!” “I just transferred that subsidiary to Scarlett as part of her engagement gift,” Julian said, his voice smooth and cold. “The Sterling Group is going public next week. They cannot have any negative press right now.” My breath caught in my throat. It felt like icy water was being poured down my spine. “So… to protect Scarlett’s reputation, you’re making me take the fall?” “You’re just a food influencer. Post an apology, take a break from social media for a while, and this will blow over,” Julian said, his tone dripping with casual arrogance. “I will compensate you tenfold for your financial losses. Just be a good girl and don’t make trouble for me right now.” “Julian Vance!” I screamed. “That channel is my life’s work! My reputation! How dare you ruin me just to protect her?!” “I can do it because everything you have was given to you by me.” Julian’s voice was ice. “Get a grip on reality, Chloe. At 3:00 PM, my PR team will use your login credentials to post the apology. You better cooperate.” The line went dead. I sat on the cold floor, clutching my phone. Looking at the vile, hateful comments flooding my screen, my stomach suddenly churned. I ran to the bathroom and threw up violently in the toilet. I threw up until there was nothing left but bile and tears. At 3:00 PM, my Instagram and TikTok accounts automatically posted a pre-written statement, taking full responsibility for the faulty pans and announcing my indefinite hiatus. In an instant, I went from a beloved food creator to a pariah. My sponsors pulled out, leaving me with millions of dollars in breach-of-contract fines. I locked myself in the kitchen, mechanically chopping vegetables. I wanted to make a simple pasta. But when I put the food in my mouth, I froze. Nothing. No acidity, no sweetness, no saltiness. Nothing. In a panic, I grabbed the salt shaker, poured a handful of salt into my palm, and licked it. Still nothing. The extreme trauma and absolute despair had taken away the most precious thing I possessed as a cook. My sense of taste. I stared at the salt on my hands and began to laugh hysterically. And as I laughed, my tears fell into the white grains. Julian Vance, you won. You didn’t just kill my love. You destroyed my dreams and my entire life.

Chloe’s POV I don’t even know how I survived that night. The next day, I put on a thick layer of makeup to hide my ghost-like paleness and took a cab to the Vance Enterprises headquarters. The door to the CEO’s office was slightly open. As I approached, I heard laughter from inside. “Julian, this macaron is so sweet. Try a bite.” It was Scarlett’s voice. Then came Julian’s low, indulgent chuckle. “I don’t like sweets. You eat it.” “No, you have to try it.” I pushed the door open. On the leather sofa, Scarlett was sitting on Julian’s lap, holding a pink macaron to his lips. Julian hadn’t refused. He was holding her hand, taking a bite. Hearing the door, they both turned. Seeing me, Julian’s brow furrowed. He pushed Scarlett off his lap and stood up, adjusting his suit jacket. “What are you doing here? Who let you up?” His voice was laced with irritation. Looking at the crumbs on his lips, I felt incredibly sick. “I’m here to discuss the breach of contract fees,” I said, my voice empty of any emotion. “Because of your PR team’s stunt, I am facing thirty million dollars in fines.” “It’s just thirty million,” Scarlett chimed in with a giggle, wiping her fingers with a silk handkerchief. “Julian spends more than that on a single sports car. Miss Lynn, coming here to beg for money is a bit embarrassing, don’t you think?” Julian looked at me coldly. “I told you, I’ll take care of the money. Deal with the financial department directly. There’s no need to come to my office and cause a scene.” “Cause a scene?” I let out a dry laugh. “Julian, you ruined my career, dragged my name through the mud, and you think I’m just causing a scene?” “Chloe Lynn!” Julian’s voice raised, his eyes sharp. “How much is that stupid social media account even worth? I can support you for the rest of your life easily! Do you really have to fight with me over such a trivial thing?” A stupid account. A trivial thing. I looked at this man who was once my whole world. He looked so foreign now. I thought he understood me. I thought he understood my passion for cooking, the sleepless nights I spent developing recipes. But to him, my dreams were just a cheap hobby that could be paid off. “Julian, I lost my sense of taste.” I looked directly into his eyes. Julian froze for a split second, then his scowl deepened. “What game are you playing now? Are you seriously making up a medical lie just to get me to retract the PR statement?” He didn’t believe me. He actually thought I was lying. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Believe whatever you want.” I pulled a document from my bag and slammed it onto his desk. “These are the final divorce papers. I don’t want a single penny of your assets. I’ll figure out the thirty million on my own.” Julian’s eyes locked onto the papers, his pupils shrinking. “Chloe, have you lost your mind?!” Julian snatched the papers, ripped them in half, and hurled them onto the floor. “Without me, how are you going to pay thirty million? By begging on the streets?!” “I’d rather beg on the streets than stay here as your dirty secret!” I yelled back, refusing to back down. Slap! Julian slammed his hand onto the desk in fury, making his coffee cup rattle. “Fine! Great! You’ve got guts, Chloe!” He pointed toward the door, laughing in anger. “If you walk out that door today, don’t you dare come back crawling to me. I won’t help you even if you beg on your knees!” Without a second thought, I turned and walked out. “Julian, don’t be mad. She just doesn’t appreciate how good you are to her…” Scarlett’s voice faded behind me. I didn’t look back. Stepping out of the corporate building, the bright afternoon sun blinded me. I didn’t cry. My tears had run dry last night. I went back to the penthouse we shared, packed only a few clothes, and left all the jewelry, designer bags, and even my wedding ring on the table. When the heavy door clicked shut, I knew my twelve years with Julian Vance were officially over. That night, I rented a cheap basement apartment in Queens. I boiled some cheap pasta in plain water. No salt. No oil. I forced myself to swallow it. But as I chewed, my tears slipped into the bowl. I had no taste. I could never make Julian’s favorite soup again. But that was fine. He didn’t need it anymore.

Chloe’s POV Three days after I moved into the basement, Julian’s assistant showed up at my door. The suited assistant stood in the damp, smelly hallway of my building, looking at my thin, pale face with pity. “Mrs. Vance, Julian wants you to come home.” “I’m not Mrs. Vance anymore,” I said calmly. “The divorce papers have been mailed to his office.” The assistant sighed. “He ripped them up. He said if you just apologize and admit you were wrong, he’ll clear your debt and help you reopen your studio.” I let out a cold laugh. A slap in the face followed by a sweet treat. Julian really loved playing corporate mind games with me. “Tell him I’d rather starve to death than take a single dollar of his money.” After the assistant left, I began looking for jobs. But with the “toxic pan” scandal attached to my name, no company would hire me. I even tried applying for dishwasher jobs at local diners, but the managers recognized me and kicked me out. “We don’t hire scammers here. Get lost!” Standing on the busy New York streets, watching people pass by, I felt utterly powerless for the first time in my life. Then, my phone rang. It was an unknown number. “Miss Lynn, I hear you’re desperate for cash.” The voice on the other end was familiar, arrogant and dripping with condescension. It was Scarlett. “What do you want?” I asked guardedly. “Come to Club V888 tonight at 8:00 PM. If you show up, I’ll give you a million dollars.” I wanted to hang up immediately, but the thought of the thirty million dollar debt made me squeeze my eyes shut. “Fine.” At 8:00 PM, I pushed open the heavy door to the VIP lounge at Club V888. The room was dimly lit, filled with expensive cigar smoke and loud music. Julian was sitting right in the center of the plush leather sofa, holding a glass of whiskey, looking relaxed and regal. Scarlett was clinging to his arm, surrounded by several wealthy young heirs of New York. The room went dead quiet when I walked in. Julian’s eyes landed on me. Seeing me in a cheap oversized t-shirt and worn jeans, looking noticeably thinner, his brow twitched slightly. But he quickly masked it with cold mockery. “Well, well. Did your pride run out that quickly?” I ignored him and walked straight to Scarlett. “Why did you call me here?” Scarlett giggled, pulling a check from her designer bag and slapping it on the table. “Chloe, there’s a million dollars right here. All you have to do is drop to your knees and drink this entire bottle of tequila, and the money is yours.” She pointed to a bottle of high-proof liquor on the table. The rich kids around her laughed and cheered. “Whoa, isn’t this the proud Chloe Lynn? Look at her now.” “Julian, your ex-wife is really pathetic. Kneeling for just a million?” “Scarlett, you’re brutal!” I stared at the check, my hands clenching into fists, my nails drawing blood from my palms. I looked at Julian. He swirled the whiskey in his glass, his eyes cold and detached, as if watching a stranger. He wasn’t going to stop her. He was letting her humiliate me. “What’s wrong? Don’t want it?” Scarlett mocked. “Then get the hell out and stop ruining our night.” I took a deep breath. The thirty million dollar debt was a mountain crushing me. I had no other choice. Slowly, I began to bend my knees. But right before my knees could touch the dirty floor, Julian slammed his whiskey glass onto the ground. Smash! Glass shattered everywhere. The lounge fell into dead silence. Julian stood up abruptly, grabbed my wrist, and yanked me up with brute force. “Chloe Lynn, have you lost all self-respect?!” His eyes were bloodshot as he glared at me in fury. “For a lousy million dollars, you’re willing to throw away your dignity? Where is your pride?!” My wrist hurt from his grip, but I only let out a broken laugh. “Dignity? Julian, didn’t you step on my dignity a long time ago?” I yanked my hand out of his grip, my eyes entirely dead. “Who are you to judge me? I am in this position because of you.” “Get her out of here!” Julian shouted at his bodyguards, frantically loosening his tie. “Julian, what are you doing…” Scarlett complained, grabbing his sleeve. “Shut up!” Julian snapped at her, his voice so cold that she instantly went quiet. I was dragged out of the club by his bodyguards and thrown into the back of a black Maybach. The car sped through the city, finally stopping in front of a secluded mansion in the suburbs. This was the house we bought when we first got together. I was shoved inside, and the heavy oak door slammed shut behind me, the lock clicking into place. “Mr. Vance ordered that you are not to leave until you’ve cleared your head,” the bodyguard’s cold voice came from outside. Looking at the empty, quiet house, I closed my eyes in despair. He wasn’t just ruining me. He was locking me up. The mansion was huge, but it felt like a gilded cage. I was locked there for a whole week. No phone, no internet, no TV. The maid delivered three meals a day, but I barely touched them. Food meant nothing to me now. The extreme mental stress made me drop weight rapidly. My clothes hung loosely on my bony frame. Every day, I just sat by the window, watching the sun rise and set, replaying the last twelve years in my mind. At twelve, I saved his life. At twenty, I ran away from my family to marry him when he had nothing. At twenty-three, he became the billionaire CEO of Vance Enterprises, and he wanted me to be his hidden mistress. Love is a losing game. I bet everything, and I lost down to my bones.

Chloe’s POV On the seventh evening, the heavy front door finally opened. Julian walked in, bringing the chilly winter air with him. He was dressed in a pristine, custom-tailored black suit, looking as powerful and untouchable as ever. But when his eyes fell on me sitting on the carpet, looking like a skeleton, a flicker of pain and frustration crossed his face. He quickly masked it, returning to his usual cold demeanor. “Are you done throwing your tantrum?” He walked over, looking down at me, and tossed a document onto the table. “Sign this. Then we’ll go get the divorce finalized.” I turned my head slowly, my eyes landing on the paper. “I thought you ripped up the last copy because you didn’t want to divorce,” my voice was raspy, sounding like sandpaper. “Chloe, don’t be naive,” Julian said, his tone brutally calm. “Next Wednesday is my engagement party with Scarlett. You need to accept reality. The title of Mrs. Vance belongs to her now.” My heart squeezed painfully, a sharp ache radiating through my chest. “If you’re getting engaged, why are you keeping me locked up here?” I looked up, my eyes bloodshot. Julian knelt down, his fingers gripping my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Because I’ve designated you as the head chef for the engagement party.” My pupils dilated. I stared at him in utter horror. He wanted me, his wife, to cook for his engagement party to another woman? “Are you insane, Julian?” My voice finally cracked. “What do you think I am? How much more of my dignity do you need to crush before you’re satisfied?!” “What are you? A chef who once cooked for the Vance family, or a woman who needs to learn her place.” Julian’s eyes were merciless. “Your assistant, Penny, and the rest of your studio staff. I have them blacklisted. If you don’t make this dinner perfect, I’ll make sure none of them ever find a job in New York again. They will be drowning in debt.” “You monster!” I raised my hand to slap him, but he caught my wrist mid-air. “I’m just teaching you how the real world works,” Julian said, throwing my hand back and standing up. “Chloe, if you behave, do this one last job, and prove you’ve let go of your obsession with being my wife, you can stay by my side. I’ll make sure you live in luxury.” I trembled, staring at him for a long, long time. So long that Julian actually looked away, unable to meet my gaze. My eyes were completely dead. The twelve years of love, adoration, and warmth had burned to ash in a single second. I finally accepted that the boy who once carried me on his back for five miles in a rainstorm was dead. This man was a stranger. “Fine,” I said, my voice flat and lifeless. “I’ll do it.” Julian blinked, clearly surprised by how quickly I agreed. “Good. Sign the papers and prepare. Don’t think about running away.” He turned and walked out, his back cold and unyielding. When the door locked, I didn’t cry. My tears had dried up during the week of isolation. I picked up the pen and signed my name on the divorce papers. Each stroke felt like a cut through my past twelve years. Over the next few days, I started eating again. I even asked the maid to bring in premium ingredients. The guards thought I had finally given up, so they relaxed their security. I worked like a robot, making batch after batch of wild mushroom soup. But this time, I didn’t use any of the rare, gut-healing herbs I used to source from all over the world. I opened the pantry and dumped thousands of dollars worth of premium, health-boosting ingredients straight into the garbage. Julian, you wanted me to cook? I’ll cook. But from now on, your health, your stomach, and your life have absolutely nothing to do with me. The following Wednesday, at the Waldorf Astoria in New York. The engagement party of the century between Vance Enterprises and the Sterling Group had taken over the entire penthouse ballroom. Every powerful family in New York was there. But in the kitchen, the atmosphere was tense. I stood in a white chef’s uniform, my hair tied back neatly, staring blankly at the prep station. The other chefs looked at me with pity and whispered gossip. Everyone knew I was Julian’s secret wife, now forced to cook for his new bride. It was the ultimate humiliation. “Miss Lynn, they are calling for the soup in the ballroom. Is the wild mushroom soup ready?” the head chef asked cautiously. “Yes,” I said quietly. I sprinkled a bit of fresh parsley over the soup. It looked beautiful, but it lacked the rich, healing aroma it used to have. Suddenly, the kitchen doors swung open.

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On the day I went to pick up my wedding dress, I found out the rose lace gown had been replaced. In its place sat a dress covered in heavy tulip embroidery. I asked my fiancé about it. He didn’t even look up from his phone, busy replying to Chloe on Snapchat. He said carelessly, “Chloe likes tulips. She helped me change it.” “Besides, you look the same in everything.” But that rose lace was hand-stitched by my late mother before she passed away. I stared at the unrecognizable dress, unable to speak for a long time. Ethan thought I was about to cry again, and his voice turned impatient. “Don’t make a big deal out of a dress.” “Chloe was just trying to help you. She has better taste than you anyway.” It was only later that I realized it wasn’t just the dress. The entire wedding venue had been redesigned into a pink tulip theme—Chloe’s favorite. I used to think this was our wedding. But it turned out I was just a stand-in, meant to stand under the spotlight to complete a wedding that Chloe never got to have. Roses wither, and I didn’t want to love him anymore.

After leaving the bridal boutique, we went to our new house, which was still under renovation. The moment I pushed the door open, I was greeted by a sea of tulips. Ethan assumed I was going to throw a tantrum again. “It’s just decor. As long as it’s livable, it’s fine.” I picked up a small, tulip-shaped nightlight and whispered, “But you promised me we would use a rose theme. My favorite…” Ethan reached out and grabbed my wrist. His fingers were cold against my skin. His tone was still patronizing, like he was pacifying a spoiled child. “Hazel, the renovation is almost done. If you throw a fit now, the workers will have to redo everything. It’s not worth the hassle.” I looked at the massive oil painting of tulips hanging in the living room. “I didn’t ask them to redo it.” Ethan relaxed his grip slightly, looking satisfied with my obedience. “Good. Chloe actually came by today to check on things. She said this painting would make the living room look brighter.” I smiled faintly. “She really put a lot of effort into this.” “She knows about these things,” Ethan said, pulling out his phone to text. His thumbs flew across the screen. “Not like you, always clinging to old things.” Old things. My mother’s legacy had become a disposable “old thing” in his eyes. The interior designer standing nearby looked uncomfortable. He held up his tablet and asked in a low voice, “Mr. Miller, should we still go with the champagne sheets Hazel chose for the master bedroom?” Ethan didn’t look up. “No, change it to white. Chloe has trouble sleeping. Don’t use heavy colors.” The designer froze and glanced at me quickly. Ethan realized what he had just said. His brow furrowed, but he quickly recovered his composure. “I mean, Chloe helped test the lighting in here. Her advice is professional. Don’t overthink it.” I nodded. “I won’t.” He seemed choked by my calm response. He stared at me. “Why are you acting so weird today?” I didn’t answer. I turned and walked into the walk-in closet. The shelves had been lowered. The hanging section had been adjusted to the height of the long dresses Chloe usually wore. I had told Ethan before that I had a lot of long winter coats and needed a tall closet. At the time, Ethan told me our house wasn’t a warehouse, telling me not to make it look like a cheap rental. But with one word from Chloe about her dresses, the closet was rebuilt to fit her. I pulled open a drawer and found a small, cream-colored ceramic deer. It wasn’t mine. Ethan walked in. Seeing the deer, he paused, then picked it up and set it aside. “Chloe must have left it here. I’ll have her take it back later.” I asked, “How many times has she been here?” “It’s a renovation. Of course she had to come,” Ethan said, his voice cold. “You’re always busy with work. I asked her to supervise to save you the trouble.” “Does she have a key?” Ethan locked his phone screen and let out a dry laugh. “Hazel, do you have to make everything sound so ugly? She came here to help, not to rob us.” I looked at him. “I just asked if she had a key.” Just then, the sound of a key turning in the lock came from the front door. Chloe walked in carrying a bakery bag. Her movements were as natural as if she were coming home. “Ethan, I bought your favorite chestnut cake. I brought one for Hazel too.” She saw me, her smile unchanging. “Am I interrupting?” Ethan naturally took the bag from her hand. “No. She was just saying how much she appreciates your help.” Chloe smiled. “Don’t be so polite, Hazel! Your future home is so important. Of course I want to help you guys make it perfect.” I looked down at the soft slippers she was wearing. There was only one pair of guest slippers in the shoe rack. They were light yellow, one size smaller than mine. Ethan followed my gaze. His patience finally snapped. “They’re just slippers. She comes over a lot, so we left a pair here so she doesn’t have to keep taking her shoes off.” Chloe bit her lip gently. “Maybe I should take them back. Hazel might mind.” “No need,” Ethan decided for her. “She’s not that petty.” I reached into my bag, pulled out my copy of the house key, and placed it on the console table. “Then leave this key here too.” Ethan looked at the key, his face darkening. “What is that supposed to mean?” I said, “You two clearly need it more.” He stared at me for a few seconds, trying to figure out if I was truly angry or just trying to make him apologize. Chloe spoke first. “Hazel, please don’t misunderstand. Ethan and I grew up together. We have habits we can’t change, but we are really just friends.” Ethan chimed in quickly. “You heard her. Stop acting like this, or she won’t even dare to help us anymore.” I picked up my bag. “Okay.” Ethan grabbed my wrist again, harder this time. “I’ll have the driver take you home. I have a business dinner tonight. Don’t call my mom and complain about this nonsense.” I looked up at him. “What are you afraid I’ll say?” “I’m afraid you’ll blow things out of proportion,” he whispered. “The wedding is in three months. Don’t make both of our families look bad.” Three months. We had been engaged for two years. The day we finally set the date, I had circled it on my calendar three times in pure excitement. Now, that house was filled with Chloe’s presence. The designer packed up his things to leave. As he passed me, his tablet screen lit up. I saw the project name written at the top of the file.

“Recreation of Chloe’s Old Apartment.” I stood in the elevator, the words on the screen burning into my mind. Ethan ran out just as the elevator doors were closing. He blocked the door with his hand, his voice thick with anger. “Hazel, are you seriously throwing a tantrum over a project name?” I looked at his cufflinks. “You saw it?” “So what if I did?” He stepped inside and pressed the button for the lobby. “Chloe’s old place had great aesthetics. It’s normal for the designer to use it as inspiration.” I asked, “Why are we recreating her old apartment for our future home?” Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you have to be this dramatic? I bought the house, and I paid for the renovation. Is it a crime for me to choose a style I find comfortable?” The reflective metal walls of the elevator showed my pale face. I said, “No, it’s not.” Ethan actually looked angrier. “Hazel, this silent treatment is more annoying than yelling.” The elevator doors opened on the first floor. Chloe’s voice echoed from behind us. “Ethan, don’t yell at her. It’s all my fault.” She held out the ceramic deer to me. “Take this as an apology. I used to love it, and Ethan said it would look great on your master bedroom windowsill.” Ethan looked at the deer, his eyes softening for a split second. I suddenly remembered my birthday three years ago. He had given me a rose brooch. He said it reminded him of me—quiet, elegant, and peaceful. Later, when Chloe returned to the country, that brooch disappeared, and I never saw it again. I didn’t take the deer. “Since you like it so much, keep it.” Chloe’s hand froze in midair. Ethan snatched the deer and said coldly, “She’s offering it to you. Just take it. Don’t embarrass her.” I looked him in the eye. “I don’t want someone else’s leftovers.” Chloe turned pale. Ethan’s expression changed instantly. “Hazel, apologize.” Workers were moving in and out of the lobby, and the designer was still nearby. Several pairs of eyes quietly drifted over to us. I asked, “Why?” “You’re being hurtful,” Ethan said, gripping my shoulder. His grip wasn’t painful, but it kept me from pulling away. “Chloe is just trying to be nice. Why are you being so passive-aggressive?” Chloe whispered, “It’s fine, Ethan. I don’t want to make Hazel uncomfortable.” Ethan didn’t let go of me. “I’ve spoiled her too much. She doesn’t even have basic manners anymore.” I looked at the ceramic deer. One of its ears was chipped and carefully glued back together, leaving a faint line on the glaze. Chloe suddenly said, “Actually, Ethan originally gave this deer to me. I just thought it would fit nicely in your new home.” Ethan frowned. “Chloe.” She acted as if she had let a secret slip and quickly looked down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” I laughed. So, it wasn’t her old belongings she wanted to give me. It was a keepsake Ethan had given her, and they wanted to display it in my house. Afraid I would ask more questions, Ethan shoved the deer into my hands. “Just take it. It’s just a decoration. Stop making a scene.” The sharp edges of the broken ceramic pressed into my palm. My hands trembled, and I dropped it. The deer shattered in two on the concrete floor. Chloe gasped. Ethan’s face went completely dark. “Hazel!” I knelt down to pick up the pieces. A sharp edge sliced my finger, and a bead of blood welled up. Ethan saw it. His hand twitched, but he chose to shield Chloe first. “Don’t look, Chloe. Be careful not to get cut.” Chloe hid behind him. “Hazel, I know you don’t like me, but you didn’t have to do that.” I gathered the shards in my hand. “How much was it? I’ll pay you back.” Ethan stared at my bleeding hand, his voice dropping. “This isn’t about money.” I asked, “Then what is it about?” He didn’t answer. The designer carefully handed me a tissue. “Hazel, you should wrap your finger first.” Ethan took the tissue and was about to hand it to me when his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and answered immediately. “Hi, Aunt Beverly. Yes, Chloe is with me. Don’t worry.” Chloe leaned in close to listen, her face instantly softening. The voice on the other end was loud and clear. “Ethan, how is your new house with Chloe coming along? I’m coming back to town soon, and I want to be the first to see it!” I squeezed the shards in my hand and looked up at Ethan. He was silent for a second, then quickly replied, “It’s almost done. I’ll bring her over then.” Ah. So it was their house all along.

I didn’t ask Ethan who Aunt Beverly was. And he didn’t offer to explain. The next day, Ethan’s mother, Eleanor, invited me to try on dresses for the after-party. When I arrived at the boutique, Chloe was already sitting on the sofa, a designer shawl draped over her shoulders. Eleanor smiled and waved. “Hazel, you’re here! Come look. Chloe has great taste; she picked out a few dresses for you.” I looked at the rack of dresses. They were all high-waisted with short trains and very narrow shoulder lines. I said, “These don’t really suit my style.” Eleanor’s smile faded slightly. “You’re getting married, Hazel. It’s always best to listen to your elders and those with experience. Chloe has been to many high-society weddings; she knows better than you.” Chloe stood up and pulled a dress off the rack. “This one is beautiful. Ethan would love it.” I asked, “It’s my wedding. Why does everything have to be about what he likes?” Eleanor paused with her teacup halfway to her lips. “Hazel, don’t be so petty. Ethan is busy. You should be more supportive of him.” Chloe added softly, “Ethan likes clean, simple looks. If you wear something too flashy, he won’t be used to it.” The assistant took the dresses to the fitting room, but I stood still. Eleanor finally frowned. “What is wrong with you lately? You’ve been so stubborn. The house design, the decoration, and now the dresses—nothing seems to please you.” I looked at her. “Did you know my wedding dress was replaced?” Eleanor paused. “Chloe mentioned it to me. The old dress was a bit outdated and didn’t fit the theme.” I nodded. “My mother made that dress before she died.” The room went dead silent. Chloe’s eyes welled with tears instantly. “Hazel, I really didn’t know. If I had known, I never would have suggested changing it…” Eleanor softened her tone. “That was indeed a misunderstanding. But Ethan just wanted the wedding to look perfect. Don’t hold a grudge over this.” Suddenly, I felt a deep sense of exhaustion. They all knew I was wronged. But they were more afraid of Chloe feeling uncomfortable. When Ethan pushed the door open and walked in, Eleanor looked at him like he was a savior. “Ethan, thank God you’re here. Hazel keeps saying these dresses don’t suit her.” Ethan glanced at the rack. “Chloe picked them?” Chloe nodded. “I was just making suggestions.” “Then pick one of these,” Ethan said, walking over to me. He gently smoothed a strand of hair over my shoulder. “Hazel, don’t make everyone waste their day here.” I raised my eyes to meet his. “What if I don’t want to wear any of them?” His hand froze. His voice was low and warning. “The wedding isn’t just about you.” I laughed. “The house isn’t mine, the wedding dress isn’t mine, and I can’t even choose my own party dress. Whose wedding is this anyway?” Ethan stared at me, his eyes flashing with a clear warning. “There are people around. Stop talking nonsense.” Chloe pleaded softly, “Hazel, don’t misunderstand. Ethan just wants everything to go smoothly.” I turned and walked into the fitting room without another word. As the assistant helped me zip up the dress, my phone buzzed. It was a message from the designer. “Hazel, I asked around about the rose dress you mentioned. Mr. Miller said not to keep it. Chloe said she didn’t like it either, so they had it sent to the warehouse.” Below was a photo. In a dusty corner of a warehouse lay the rose dress my mother had made for me. It was torn, and the hem was covered in dirt. I stared at the photo, a cold numbness spreading through my chest. The assistant asked, “Hazel, is the zipper too tight?” I replied, “A little.” When I walked out, Ethan looked up. He seemed satisfied. His tone softened. “This one looks decent.” Chloe, however, froze. Her fingers tightened around her shawl. Eleanor smiled. “If Chloe had had her wedding back then, she probably would have looked just like this.” Ethan’s face tightened. “Mom.” Eleanor realized her slip of the tongue and took a sip of her tea to cover it up. “I was just talking.” I looked at the mirror. The girl in the reflection was wearing a dress handpicked by Chloe, standing next to Ethan. She looked like an old, faded photograph where someone had pasted my face over Chloe’s. Through the crack of the fitting room door, I saw a folder lying on the table. I bent down to pick it up. On the cover, it read: Wedding Ceremony Timeline & Preferences.

Under Bride’s Style Preferences, the name listed was: Chloe. I put the folder back down, my fingers lingering on the cover. Ethan walked over. “What are you looking at?” I looked up. “Why does the wedding plan list Chloe’s preferences?” He glanced at it, his expression unchanged. “The planning company was lazy. They used her old event template. I’ll have them change it.” Chloe spoke up immediately. “I sent them some inspiration files earlier. They must have gotten confused. Hazel, please don’t be mad.” I looked at Ethan. “Is it really just a misunderstanding?” His patience was entirely gone. “What else would it be? Hazel, are you going to act like the whole world owes you just because you see Chloe’s name?” I didn’t ask further. That afternoon, I went to the warehouse alone. The manager searched for a long time before bringing out the rose dress. “Mr. Miller’s assistant said to throw it away, but we didn’t dare, so we kept it here.” The skirt was creased and covered in dust. I used a tissue to wipe it clean, bit by bit. My phone rang. It was a text from Ethan. “Aunt Beverly is coming over to the new house for dinner tonight. Be there. And don’t pull a face.” I texted back: “Okay.” The dinner was held at the new house. When I arrived, the dining table was set right under the tulip painting. Chloe was holding an old lady’s arm, smiling sweetly. Seeing Ethan, Aunt Beverly’s eyes lit up. “Ethan, Chloe, this new house is beautiful! It looks just as cozy as Chloe’s old apartment.” Ethan didn’t correct her. I stood at the door, my hands freezing as I took off my coat. Chloe saw me first, her smile faltering slightly. “Hazel, you’re here.” Aunt Beverly blinked. “And who is this?” Ethan finally spoke. “Aunt Beverly, this is Hazel.” He didn’t introduce me as his fiancée. Aunt Beverly looked between the three of us, then nodded with a smile. “Oh, a friend! Come in, sit down.” Ethan whispered to me in a low, cold voice, “She has a heart condition. She can’t handle stress. Don’t say anything stupid.” I asked, “What do you mean by stupid?” He stared at me. “Don’t mention the wedding, and don’t mention our relationship. I’ll explain everything to you after dinner.” I smiled softly. “Ethan, you invited me here to play the role of a guest in my own home?” He lowered his voice. “It’s just one dinner.” Chloe walked over, looking apologetic, but her voice was loud enough for everyone to hear. “Hazel, Aunt Beverly took care of Ethan and me when we were younger. She always thought we would end up together. I just don’t want to break her heart.” I said, “So I should be understanding.” Ethan cut in quickly. “It’s best if you can.” At the dinner table, Aunt Beverly kept putting food on Chloe’s plate. “Chloe loved this dish when she was a kid. You remember, don’t you, Ethan?” Ethan deboned a piece of fish and placed it in Chloe’s bowl. “I remember.” Aunt Beverly clapped happily. “Ethan always knows how to take care of you. Seeing you two together makes me so happy.” Chloe glanced at me, her face flushed. “Aunt Beverly, stop it.” Ethan drank his water, offering no correction. I sat at the very edge of the table. The light from the tulip lamp above was dim, making the food look gray and unappetizing. Aunt Beverly suddenly looked at me. “My dear, do you have a boyfriend?” The table went dead silent. Ethan looked up, his eyes filled with a clear warning. I put my fork down. “I used to.” Ethan’s brow furrowed. Aunt Beverly didn’t catch the tension. “What about now?” I said, “Not for much longer.”

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My boyfriend told his friend in French that the twelve-carat diamond ring was for the woman he had never been able to forget. As for me, he said he’d keep me by his side with no real commitment. But Shawn Foster didn’t know I grew up in Paris, and French was my native language. He knew even less that the girl he called “from a modest family” and “unable to live without him” was the daughter of the richest man in the world—and the mysterious designer Lune he had been desperately searching for. Chapter 1 Wendy Wells POV My name is Wendy Wells. That afternoon, while I was ironing a shirt for my boyfriend, Shawn Foster, I found a ring box. The moment I opened it, my heart started pounding so fast it felt like I was having a heart attack. A twelve-carat pear-cut diamond refracted a blinding fire under the fluorescent light. We had been together for seven years. For the past two, every time I tentatively brought up going home to meet my parents or getting married, he would smile and tell me to wait a little longer. He said we should wait until the company was more stable. He said he didn’t want me to settle for less. I had thought his feelings for me had faded. So it turned out he had been secretly preparing this all along. My fingers trembled a little as I carefully slid the ring onto my ring finger. It got stuck. The ring stopped at my second knuckle and would not go any farther, squeezing so tightly that the base of my finger turned red. It was too small. I froze for a moment, then shook my head with an amused little smile and took it off, putting it back into the box. Seven years ago, my fingers had been slender and fair, untouched by any household work. All these years, I had taken care of his food, clothes, and daily life. I had stayed up with him late into the night revising proposals. In winter, I had personally washed the bespoke shirts he refused to let the housekeeper touch. My fingers had grown at least one size thicker. A designer’s hands had slowly become a housewife’s hands, the knuckles swelling by a full circle. And he had actually bought it according to my size from back then. That careless idiot. I carefully slipped the ring off and put it back in the box exactly as it had been. I couldn’t let him find out. I had to let him follow his own plan. As for the size, I would just hint at it tonight. When he proposed, I would pretend to be surprised. But no matter what, I couldn’t press down the corners of my mouth. My mind was full of thoughts. How would he propose? What would he say to me? I was in a good mood the entire afternoon. That night, as usual, I personally stewed his favorite seafood soup and pushed open the door to his study. Shawn Foster was leaning back in his chair, on a phone call. His long legs were crossed, his figure tall and sharp, his posture effortlessly refined. When he saw me come in, he lifted his eyes and smiled at me. Then he hooked an arm around my waist and pulled me onto his lap. The man on the other end spoke fluent French with a Parisian accent, his tone full of teasing. It was his childhood friend, Luke Bennett. “The ring arrived? You’re really going to propose?” Shawn Foster casually stroked my wrist, his voice lazy as he answered in French as well. “Yeah. I had someone get it from an auction in Antwerp. Twelve carats, specially customized to fit her size.” Leaning against his chest, I secretly curved my lips and fed him a spoonful of soup. “Not bad. That’s a pretty big move.” Luke Bennett whistled. “Is Fiona Quinn worth you spending that kind of money?” My whole body went stiff. The ring wasn’t for me! “Of course she is. Back then, I wasn’t good enough for her.” Shawn Foster lowered his head and kissed the tip of my ear. “Now that I have the ability, I owe her an answer.” “Damn. I never thought I’d see the day Shawn Foster got tied down. Then what about Wendy Wells? What are you planning to tell her?” Shawn Foster leaned back in his chair, his tone carrying that familiar indifference I knew too well. “The wedding won’t be big. Just a few people we know well. I can keep the news under control. It won’t reach Wendy’s ears.” “You mean you’re going to hide it from her? For how long?” Shawn Foster was silent for a moment, then glanced at me. “As long as I can.” “Aren’t you afraid she’ll find out and leave?” Shawn Foster rubbed his brow, his tone turning serious. “Wendy won’t leave. She loves me that much, and her family doesn’t have any real background. Her social circle all these years exists because she followed me into it. Her parents are probably dying for me to marry her. Tell me, if she leaves me, where can she go?” The man on the other end laughed suggestively. “Shawn, that’s pretty ruthless. She’s been your girlfriend for seven years, and now she’s turning into your mistress?” Shawn Foster’s face darkened. He rubbed my hair. “Don’t talk nonsense. I do have feelings for Wendy. It’s been seven years. How could I not? She treats me well and worries about everything for me. I know all of that.” He paused, as if choosing his words. “But Fiona is different. You know how devastated I was when she left back then. Now that she’s come back, I don’t want to miss my chance again.” I lowered my head and looked at my own hand. That afternoon, when I had tried on the ring, it had left a faint indentation on my knuckle. So it wasn’t that he had carelessly remembered my size wrong. That ring had never been meant for me from the very beginning. Seven years. I never knew the person he truly wanted to marry had never been me. Just like he didn’t know that the person in his arms had never been some little girl without any powerful family background. Just like he didn’t know that the mysterious designer Lune, whom the whole world was desperately searching for, was right now in his arms. Seven years ago, Dad asked me to come home for an arranged marriage alliance. I had a huge fight with him and sat by the river crying. Shawn Foster thought I was upset over something and stayed with me the whole night. He talked to me about his dreams. He said he wanted to build his own fashion group and make everyone who looked down on him regret it. The fire in his eyes drew me in. It made me willing to wager everything on him. We naturally ended up together. I took off the Wells family name, moved out of a luxury apartment in the city center and into his two-hundred-square-foot rental, and told him I was from an ordinary family too. I accompanied him as he founded AVEUN, secretly sending him money and resources. The three earliest rounds of financing for AVEUN were quietly injected by me under the name of an investment company owned by Wells Group. Later, AVEUN needed a designer who could hold up its image. Shawn Foster searched everywhere, but he was never satisfied. One late night, while Shawn Foster was asleep, I submitted my designs to AVEUN’s official email under the name Lune. That collection later became AVEUN’s most classic series, and it was also the foundation that turned Shawn Foster into a legend in the industry. Simon Foster said signing Lune was the best bargain he had ever made in his life. But to this day, no one knew who Lune was. Not even Shawn Foster himself. All he knew was that Lune refused all interviews, never attended any events, communicated only through email, and was a genius but eccentric person. He didn’t know that genius slept beside him every night, making him coffee and ironing his shirts every day. From the days when he couldn’t afford to rent an office and could only sketch in a rental apartment, to now, when his AVEUN Group had become the hottest fashion group in the country, I had always been there. But he had never once brought up marriage. At first, I understood. Back then, he had nothing. The one-bedroom apartment he rented did not even have a decent bed. He said, “When I’m worthy of you.” I smiled and said okay. Later, the company secured its first round of financing. Then it signed several major celebrity endorsements. Then AVEUN’s annual revenue broke two billion. His reason became, “Wait a little longer. This year is too busy.” After that, it became, “What’s the rush? It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” In the past two years, he had already become unwilling to even hear me mention it. “All right, let’s stop talking. My Wendy should be getting sleepy.” He hung up the phone, lowered his head, kissed my forehead, and asked gently in Chinese, “What are you thinking about?” “I was thinking about what you two were talking about.” I lowered my head, hiding my emotions. “Just work. What’s there to think about?” Shawn Foster laughed softly, picked up the bowl, and took a sip of soup, his features relaxing. “I’m going to shower. Let’s sleep early tonight.” The sound of running water came from the bathroom. My phone vibrated. It was the monthly email from Paris, from the family legal team. [Miss Wells: Your father asked me to pass on a message. The family is ready to welcome you back at any time.] I glanced in the direction of the bathroom and calmly replied with four words: [Arrange the return trip.] Since you think I can’t live without you. Then I’ll take everything I gave you and leave you forever. Chapter 2 Wendy Wells POV The next morning, I woke up to my biological clock. The other half of the bed was empty, and the blankets had already gone cold. In the past, I had always been the first to get up every morning, make breakfast, and then wake him, just so he could stay in bed for ten more minutes. His work was busy. I felt bad for him. Yet today, he had actually gotten up earlier than me. Wrapped in my sleepwear, I walked out of the bedroom and saw Shawn Foster standing in front of the full-length mirror in the walk-in closet. A brand-new bespoke suit, newly changed cuff links, and his hair freshly styled. He looked even more meticulous than he did for a brand launch. He changed three ties in front of the mirror. When he saw me in the mirror, he turned his head and smiled. His brows carried an undisguisable good mood. “Why are you awake? Sleep a little longer.” “Why are you up so early today?” “There’s an important meeting at the company. I have to get there early.” As he spoke, he was still adjusting his cuffs, a smile hanging at the corners of his mouth. I leaned against the doorframe and watched him. Shawn Foster worked in fashion, so his taste in clothing had never been bad. But he also never dressed this carefully on an ordinary workday. Unless the person he was seeing today was worth him getting up at six and fussing in front of the mirror. I drew in a breath and decided to give this seven-year relationship one last chance. I tried to make my tone sound as casual as possible. “Shawn, come home with me next week. My parents want to meet you.” His hands paused on the buttons, but he did not turn around. “There’s a major project going on lately. I can’t get away. Next time.” In seven years, I had heard “next time” far too many times. I didn’t say anything else. Forget it. After fastening his cuff links, he walked over, bent down, and kissed the top of my head, his voice gentle. “I have to work overtime tonight. I might be home very late. Eat dinner by yourself. Don’t wait for me.” With that, he headed out, his steps so light he looked as if he were going to some long-awaited appointment. The door closed, and the living room fell quiet. His phone was lying quietly on the shoe cabinet in the living room. He had left in such a hurry that he forgot to take it. The screen lit up automatically, and an unread message popped up. Contact name: Fiona. [Shawn, it’s been seven years. I missed you so much. See you at the airport in a bit.] Getting up at six, changing three ties, smiling so brightly his eyes nearly flew off his face—so he was going to pick her up at the airport. The front door was suddenly pushed open. Shawn Foster had come back, his footsteps hurried. He strode to the entryway and picked up his phone. The instant his fingertip lit the screen, his movements stiffened for a split second. He looked up at me, a trace of nervousness in his gaze. “Wendy, did you look at my phone just now?” Curled up on the sofa and holding a cup of water, I lifted my head at his words, my expression innocent. “No. Why?” He looked at me for two seconds, searching my face. Then his shoulders relaxed, and his brow smoothed out. He came over, wrapped an arm around my waist, lowered his head, and kissed the corner of my mouth, his voice soft. “Nothing. Love you.” The door closed for the second time, and the sound of the car engine gradually faded. “Love you.” He said those two words several times a day. Before, I had believed every single one. I knew who Fiona was. Fiona Quinn, one of the film industry’s most famous actresses. She had been working overseas these past few years, and this year she had just received a Cannes Best Actress nomination. Her red-carpet looks had swept the headlines of every major fashion media outlet. Seven years ago, she had only been Shawn Foster’s college girlfriend. They had dated for four years, from freshman year until graduation. The year they graduated, Shawn Foster took his business plan everywhere and hit wall after wall. Fiona Quinn disliked that he was poor and had no future. She left him with the words, “You can’t give me the life I want,” then turned around and entered the entertainment industry. When Shawn Foster met me, it had been less than a month since he was dumped. He had told me about Fiona Quinn. Back then, he held me and spoke very seriously. “Fiona Quinn is my ex. She’s in the past. Wendy, you’re my true love.” I believed him for seven whole years. But all it took was for his ex to buy a plane ticket back, and he rushed right up to her. My phone rang. It was a video call from my brother, William Wells. “Wendy, Dad said you’re coming back? Did Shawn Foster bully you?” “No. I just miss you guys.” “Don’t try that with me. Say the word, and I’ll fly over tomorrow and take his legs off—” The phone was snatched away. Dad’s voice was much gentler, carrying a cautious tentativeness. “Wendy, if you miss home, then come back. You’ve been out there for seven years. It must have been hard, right? I won’t push you into an arranged marriage alliance anymore. Come back, and you can do whatever you want.” I clenched my phone, my eyes burning. I had been stupid. I had rejected the family who genuinely loved me and trusted Shawn Foster with my whole heart. My dad loved me so much. How could the marriage partner he chose for me possibly be bad? “Dad, I’m willing to come back for the arranged marriage alliance.” The other end of the call went quiet. After a long while, Dad laughed, but halfway through, his voice caught. “Good. Good! Next week, I’ll have William take the private jet to pick you up!” He paused, then his tone softened. “Oh, right, sweetheart. Today is your birthday. Happy birthday, my good girl.” Tears splashed onto my phone screen. “Thank you, Dad.” Chapter 3 Wendy Wells POV All day today, my phone never stopped. My college classmates’ group chat filled two whole screens with birthday wishes. My best friend sent several sixty-second voice messages in a row, screaming as she asked what gift I wanted. The design team in Paris sent over a huge bouquet of white roses by international air freight. On the card was a line printed in French: Joyeux anniversaire, Lune. Everyone remembered what day it was. Shawn Foster used to remember too. When we were poor, he brought home the cheapest bouquet of carnations from a roadside flower shop and put them in a washed paper cup in the rental apartment. The cake was a discounted little cake from the supermarket, only big enough for one thin candle. He held me and said, “When I have money, I’ll definitely give you the grandest birthday.” Later, he really did. A reserved cruise ship, tens of millions in jewelry, fireworks blooming over the sea all night, and LED screens across the city scrolling the words “Happy Birthday, Wendy Wells.” In seven years, he had never missed my birthday. This year was different. Fiona Quinn had come back, and he had forgotten my birthday. Over the course of the day, I packed up all my things. In the walk-in closet, the things he had given me over the years filled an entire wall. Limited-edition bags, haute couture gowns, jewelry sets bought at auctions—each piece was worth a fortune. The cabinet beside it held the things I had given him. A Patek Philippe annual calendar, Hermes platinum cuff links, and a vintage leather blazer he’d been hunting for years. I had someone search the vintage shops in Tokyo for three months before finally finding it. I called the housekeeper over. “Auntie Lily, pack all of these up. Contact a charity and have them donated by the end of today.” Auntie Lily froze. “Miss Wells, all of this together must be worth over a hundred million…” “Yes. So donating it can help a lot of people.” Auntie Lily didn’t dare ask any more questions. She called people over to pack and move everything. By evening, more than half of the walk-in closet was empty, and the house looked as if it had gone through a move. I barely ate a few bites at dinner. My stomach felt awful, and I wanted to throw up. At first, I thought it was because I had barely eaten all day and was overly hungry. Until the third time I dry-heaved, I supported myself against the sink and suddenly remembered something. My period had not come this month. Half an hour later, I sat on the edge of the bathtub with a pregnancy test in my hand, staring at the two red lines, my mind completely blank. My phone screen lit up. It was a push notification for an entertainment news article. [Famous actress Fiona Quinn quietly returns to the country, escorted the entire way through the airport by mystery gentleman in full VIP treatment] In the attached photo, Fiona Quinn was wearing sunglasses while a man’s hand protected her waist as she passed through the crowd. The photo did not capture the man’s face. But I recognized the watch on that wrist. A Patek Philippe 5270P, perpetual calendar chronograph, limited worldwide release. It was the thirtieth birthday gift I had given Shawn Foster. My phone vibrated again. Shawn Foster sent me a WeChat message. Wendy, I have to work late at the office tonight, so I won’t be coming home. Go to sleep first. Love you. I looked at the pregnancy test, then at the message. The irony felt like a play whose script had already been written. We used to lie in bed and talk countless times about having children someday. He said their eyes should look like mine, their nose like his. He said if it was a daughter, we would name her Nina Foster; if it was a boy, Grant Foster. He said once the company was a little more stable, we would have one. The child had come, but his heart was already gone. I didn’t even know if anything he said back then had been sincere. I didn’t sleep that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him kissing me while saying he needed to give Fiona Quinn an answer. I saw the hand in the airport photo, shielding Fiona. I held back for a long time, but in the end, I still couldn’t stop myself from calling him. It rang for a long time. No one answered. After a while, I called again. His phone was off. Clutching my phone, I curled up on the sofa and finally couldn’t hold it together anymore. I cried the entire night. Seven years of feelings couldn’t be cut off just because I said so. Especially not when there was another life inside me. The next morning, I got up with my eyes so swollen I could barely open them. The person in the mirror looked haggard beyond recognition. I decided to go to the hospital first and get checked, just to confirm it. When the car passed through an intersection, a truck running a red light slammed into us from the side. After the deafening crash, a sharp pain shot through my leg, and something warm trickled down my calf. I was still conscious enough to dial Shawn Foster’s number. The number you have dialed is powered off. Chapter 4 Wendy Wells POV In the end, a passerby called an ambulance for me. When I arrived at the hospital, a nurse pushed me into the emergency room. As we rounded the corner by the outpatient hall, I turned my head and saw Shawn Foster. He was standing in front of the registration desk, slightly bent over, filling out a form for the woman beside him. Fiona Quinn was leaning against his shoulder, looking as if she wasn’t feeling well. As Shawn filled out the form, he turned his head to speak to her, his tone gentle and patient, like he was coaxing a sick child. My injuries weren’t too serious. My leg needed seven stitches. But the doctor’s expression was a little grave. “Ms. Wells, the external wound on your leg has been treated. But your abdomen suffered an impact, and judging from the examination results…” She glanced at the report in her hand. “You were about six weeks pregnant. Unfortunately, due to the force of the car accident, the fetus could not be saved.” I stared at the ceiling and said nothing. Last night, I had cried all night over those two red lines, asking myself over and over whether I wanted this child. Now I didn’t have to ask anymore. The doctor was still explaining the post-op precautions when the door to the ward was suddenly pushed open. Shawn Foster rushed in. “Wendy? It really is you.” He strode to the bedside, his gaze sweeping over the gauze and stitches on my leg. His expression changed. “How did you get hurt? What happened? Why didn’t you call me?” The doctor was still standing beside us and took over. “Hello, sir. The patient was in a car accident this morning. Her leg required seven stitches, and in addition, because her abdomen suffered an impact, it caused a miscar—” “I did call.” I cut the doctor off and looked at Shawn Foster. “Your phone was off.” Shawn froze. Almost instinctively, he took out his phone and glanced at it. The screen was lit, with full signal. I watched the changes in his expression. First confusion, then a flash of guilt. He lowered his head and quickly swiped on his phone a few times before hiding the screen again. “Sorry. I was too busy working overtime yesterday. My phone ran out of battery and shut off by itself. I didn’t know you called.” He was lying. I knew what he was doing. He was taking my number off the blacklist. And he wasn’t the one who had blocked me. Fiona Quinn was. “Shawn…” a weak female voice came from the doorway. Fiona Quinn stood there, holding onto the doorframe. Over her hospital gown, she had draped Shawn Foster’s suit jacket, and her face was even paler than when I had seen her in the hall. Shawn immediately turned and went to her, one hand supporting her waist, the other holding her arm. His voice was full of tension and reproach. “Why did you get out of bed? The doctor told you to stay in bed and rest.” Fiona leaned weakly into his arms, her gaze passing over his shoulder to look at me on the hospital bed. “I saw you rush out in such a hurry. I was worried, so I came to take a look.” She sized me up, her tone innocent and naive. “And this is?” Shawn Foster had his back to me. He didn’t turn around. “A friend. I saw she was hospitalized, so I came to check on her.” So I was his friend. He crouched down and gently lifted her into his arms. Fiona’s arms naturally looped around his neck. Holding her, Shawn Foster walked out, tossing one sentence back at me. “Rest well. I’ll take her back to her ward first.” Shawn Foster carried Fiona Quinn to the end of the hallway and disappeared. He never came back. The doctor told me to go for another examination, so I could only hold onto the wall and limp there by myself. When I passed a VIP ward at the corner of the hallway, the door was left slightly ajar. Shawn Foster was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Fiona Quinn’s hand as she received an IV. Fiona turned her head to look at him. Her voice didn’t sound weak at all. “That woman just now. What exactly is your relationship with her?” “Don’t overthink it. She’s just a friend.” “Don’t try to fool me. What kind of friend calls you so many times in the middle of the night? Shawn Foster, do you think I’m blind?” Shawn Foster was silent for a moment. “She was a substitute I found when you weren’t around. We’ve already broken up.” “Then do you still love her?” “I only love you. Do you even need to ask?” “Words are cheap.” Fiona pulled her hand back and turned her head away from him. “Prove it to me.” Shawn Foster took a box from the inner pocket of his suit. Dark green velvet, with a hidden gold clasp. I recognized that box. The night before last, I had secretly opened it and tried on the ring inside. It had gotten stuck at my knuckle. He got down on one knee. “I originally wanted to find a more formal occasion, but I can’t wait anymore.” He opened the box. The twelve-carat pear-cut diamond refracted a blinding light. “Fiona Quinn, seven years ago, I wasn’t good enough. I couldn’t make you stay. For the past seven years, I’ve fought with everything I had to climb higher, all so that one day I could stand in front of you and be worthy of you. Marry me.” Tears fell from Fiona’s eyes, and she held out her left hand. The ring slid onto her ring finger, fitting perfectly. I stood outside the door. The wound on my leg was still seeping blood, staining the gauze dark red. So that was how he defined me. Just a substitute. I turned around and limped away from that door. The hallway was long, so long it felt like I would never reach the end. My phone rang. It was my assistant calling. “Ms. Wells, the design collaboration license between Lune and AVEUN expires next month. Should I renew the contract as usual?” For seven years, every time the contract expired, I told her to renew it. “No.” My assistant was clearly stunned. “You said… no?” “Yes. Once it expires, notify Legal to start the termination process.” Chapter 5 Wendy Wells POV Not long after I hung up, Shawn Foster’s message came through. Wendy, that was Fiona Quinn just now. She just came back to the country and doesn’t have many friends here. Last night, she ate something bad and got acute gastroenteritis, so she came to the hospital this morning. She’s a public figure, so it’s inconvenient for her to show her face. I just helped run an errand for her. Don’t overthink it. I didn’t reply. Over the next few days, Shawn Foster never came to my ward. He sent messages saying the company suddenly had a project to follow up on and he had gone out of town on a business trip. He had hired the best caregiver to take care of me and told me to focus on recovering. The caregiver was indeed diligent, asking after me, serving tea and water, taking care of every detail. But he chose to personally stay with Fiona Quinn, and he lied to me. On the third night, an unknown number sent me a message. It was a video. The background was the messy bed in a hotel suite. Fiona Quinn had her arms around Shawn Foster’s neck, her voice soft and coy. “Who do you love?” “You. I only love you.” I didn’t need to guess who had sent it from that number. On the day I was discharged, I called a car and went home by myself. When I pushed open the door, the lights in the living room were on. Shawn Foster was back. The moment he saw me come in, he immediately got up and walked over to take the things from my hands. “You’re back? How’s your leg? Does it hurt?” As he spoke, he handed me a gift box. “I left for that business trip in such a hurry that I didn’t get a chance to visit you. I bought you a gift as an apology.” I opened the box. It was a diamond bracelet. I wasn’t surprised at all. Because ten minutes earlier, that unknown number had sent another photo. In the photo, a diamond necklace from the same series rested against Fiona Quinn’s collarbone. It was more than ten times more expensive than this bracelet. You got the bracelet, right? It was a free gift that came with the necklace. I didn’t want it, so I rewarded you with it. A necklace for his lover, a freebie to brush me off. In the past, whenever I received a gift from him, even if it was just ice cream bought from a roadside stand, I could be happy for days. I glanced at the bracelet and casually set it on the table. Shawn Foster’s expression shifted. He frowned slightly, as if sensing something was wrong. Then he reached out, wrapped an arm around my waist, and pulled me into his embrace. “Are you angry? It was my fault for not visiting you these past few days. It won’t happen again.” He lowered his head to kiss me. I turned my head slightly, just about to find an excuse to avoid him. His phone rang. Shawn Foster ignored it and kept leaning in. The phone kept ringing. I pushed lightly against his shoulder. “Answer it. It’s been ringing for so long. Maybe it’s urgent.” “Nothing is more important than you.” He pinched my cheek and smiled. The phone rang for the third time. He finally glanced at the screen in irritation, and his smile froze. He let go of me, picked up his phone, and quickly walked to the balcony. Through the glass door, I saw him answer the call, his brows tightly furrowed, his tone urgent but quiet. I faintly heard things like “Don’t worry” and “I’ll be right there.” He pushed open the glass door and returned to the living room, heading straight for his coat. “There’s an emergency at the company. I have to go out for a bit.” He bent down and quickly kissed my forehead. “Don’t let the wound on your leg touch water. Sleep early.” I sat on the sofa and looked at the bracelet I had casually left on the table. The diamonds sparkled beautifully under the light, cold and icy, just like this home. That night, the unknown number sent another photo. In the photo, Shawn Foster was asleep with his arms around Fiona Quinn. Their bare shoulders were exposed above the covers. All it takes is one call from me, and I can make him leave your side. So what if you were his substitute for seven years? The real one is back. Why are you still clinging to him? Before I make him kick you out, be sensible and get lost on your own. I pressed the X hard to close the chat, then sent a message to another number: Find out everything Fiona Quinn has been doing overseas these past few years. The more detailed, the better. The other party replied instantly: Understood, Miss Wells. Chapter 6 Wendy Wells POV The next afternoon, I decided to go out and watch a movie. A classic old film I really liked was being re-released. I had wanted to see it the year it first came out, but back then, I was helping Shawn Foster start his business and was too busy. I never got to watch it. Over the years, whenever I mentioned to Shawn Foster that I wanted to go to a movie, he always said he had been busy lately and we would go another day. Another day turned into nothing. After a while, I stopped bringing it up. This time, I wasn’t waiting anymore. Just as I was about to leave, I ran into Shawn Foster. He was carrying a bag of things. When he saw me, he froze slightly. “Where are you going?” I didn’t look at him. I lowered my head and organized my bag. “To see a movie.” He frowned, his tone a little urgent. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I’ll go with you.” “Do you have time?” My tone was calm as I looked up at him. Shawn Foster choked on his words, his voice turning a little unnatural. “I do. Let’s go. I’ll drive.” On the way there, he talked a lot, much warmer than usual. He asked if my leg still hurt, asked what I wanted to eat, and even took the initiative to say he would take me to a Japanese restaurant I had mentioned once a long time ago. He was making it up to me. Making up for the way he had been stuck to Fiona Quinn these past few days and neglected me. When we arrived at the screening room, we sat in the middle row. Before the lights dimmed, someone sat down in the seat beside us. A low-brim baseball cap, a black mask, half her face covered. But I recognized her. Shawn Foster recognized her too. It was Fiona Quinn. Fiona Quinn sat on Shawn Foster’s right. I sat on his left. The lights went out, and the screen lit up. Barely ten minutes into the movie, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Shawn Foster’s right hand slide off the armrest. Fiona Quinn’s left hand also dangled beside her seat. In the darkness, their hands quietly clasped together. The light from the screen flickered between bright and dim. Shawn Foster’s right hand went from holding hers to resting on Fiona Quinn’s knee, then slowly slipped under the hem of her skirt. I turned back to look at the screen. The theater was too dark. Not a single frame on the screen registered in my mind. When the movie ended, people surged through the lobby. Fiona Quinn took off her mask to fix her hair and was recognized by a few girls passing by. “Oh my God, it’s Fiona Quinn! It’s really Fiona Quinn herself!” The screams triggered a chain reaction, and the crowd began to rush this way. Shawn Foster reacted unbelievably fast. He wrapped an arm around Fiona Quinn’s shoulders, using his body to block the crowd, lowering his head to shield her as he hurried toward the side exit. Fiona leaned into his arms smoothly, their movements flawless together. I stood where I was, pushed around by the crowd leaving the theater. Someone kicked the wound on my leg, and the pain drilled straight into my bones. He had left too quickly. He had forgotten that he had come to the movie with me. I walked out of the theater alone and took a cab home. That night, a set of photos climbed onto the trending searches. Fiona Quinn Mobbed by Fans During Movie Outing, Mystery Male Companion Protected Her the Entire Time The photos had been taken by a passerby on a phone, and the angle only captured Shawn Foster’s back. The lines of his suit were sharp, his figure tall and upright. The comment section was frantically guessing his identity, all of them saying, “He looks so handsome just from the back.” I scrolled through two screens of comments, then turned off my phone. That evening, Shawn Foster came home. When he entered, his expression was a little uneasy, and he took the initiative to explain. “What happened this afternoon—Fiona Quinn is a famous actress. It would’ve been dangerous if she was recognized. The situation was too chaotic at the time, and I—” “I understand.” I took over his words. “You don’t need to explain.” Shawn Foster’s words caught in his throat, his half-finished explanation hanging awkwardly in the air. He looked at me, as if waiting for me to continue, waiting for me to ask questions or get angry. “You… really don’t mind?” “I don’t. What’s there to mind?” He was silent for a while, then said dully, “That’s good.” After a moment, he changed the subject. “There’s a charity gala tomorrow night. Come with me.” All these years, I had always accompanied him to public events. Everyone in the circle knew I was his girlfriend. “Okay.” The next day, after Shawn Foster went to work, my assistant called. “Ms. Wells, Mr. Foster’s side said they want to borrow First Snow.” My hand, holding the cup, froze. First Snow was Lune’s most famous work. The outside world called it the pinnacle into which the designer had poured her entire heart and soul. No one knew that gown was designed by me for myself. Every stitch, every thread, every hand-sewn crystal carried the same wish: One day, I would wear it to marry Shawn Foster. It was displayed in the glass display case on the first floor of AVEUN Group’s headquarters. Countless people stopped to admire it every day, but no one had ever worn it. Because the authorization contract I signed with AVEUN stated it clearly: First Snow may only be used as a work of art for static exhibition. Without Lune’s own written authorization, no one is permitted to borrow it, try it on, or use it for commercial exposure. “Mr. Foster said it was to lend to Ms. Quinn for tonight’s charity gala.” The assistant continued, “He said AVEUN will be collaborating with Ms. Quinn later on, and Ms. Quinn’s personal aura suits this gown perfectly. First Snow has never been worn by anyone before. It has enough buzz, and it would also be excellent exposure for the brand.” A grand, righteous-sounding excuse. The gown I designed with my own hands—he wanted to drape it over another woman. “No.” “Understood. I’ll reply to Mr. Foster.”

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On the night the Vance family held their grand homecoming banquet, I, their biological son, was not even allowed to walk through the front door. My biological mother, Victoria, threw a maid’s uniform through the iron gate, her face twisted in disgust. “Put this on and come through the back door. Keep your head down. Do not let anyone see your face and embarrass our family.” Inside the grand ballroom, Christian—the adopted son they had raised for eighteen years—stood at the center of attention. He was dressed in a bespoke designer tuxedo, surrounded by my biological parents, looking like the true sole heir to the Vance empire. Seeing me, he immediately walked over with a warm, welcoming smile, calling me his “brother.” The guests fawned over him, praising how kind and generous he was to the newcomer. But I could hear his inner voice loud and clear: Look at this trailer trash trying to steal my life. I will kick you back to the gutter where you belong sooner or later. My biological sister, Olivia, also leaned in to hiss a warning: “Behave yourself, Ethan. Do not even dream about touching the Vance family fortune.” I did not say a word. I just lowered my head and smirked. What they did not know was that I could not just hear people’s inner thoughts—I could broadcast them directly to the entire house’s smart speaker system. I reached into my pocket, tapped my phone, and gently pressed the “Broadcast” button. In the next second, Christian’s malicious, venomous voice echoed through every single speaker in the Vance mansion.

The driveway of the Vance estate in Long Island was packed with luxury sports cars. Tonight was the twentieth birthday party for the Vance family’s adopted son, Christian. Every high-society figure in the city had shown up. Meanwhile, I, Ethan Reed—the biological son who had been lost for twenty years—stood awkwardly in the golden-lit foyer wearing a pair of faded jeans and a pilling T-shirt. The crystal chandeliers were blindingly bright, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and sweet champagne. My biological mother, Victoria Vance, was staring at me as if I were a pile of steaming garbage. “What on earth are you wearing?” she whispered harshly, her voice dripping with disgust. “Tonight is Christian’s big night. Are you trying to make our family the laughingstock of the elite?” My biological father, Arthur Vance, frowned and impatiently tugged at his tie. “Alright, stop wasting your breath on him. Have someone take him to the servants’ quarters in the back house. He is not to come out until the party is over.” Standing there, the last shred of hope I had for this “family” shattered into dust. These were the biological parents I had traveled ten hours to meet. Just then, a young man and a young woman came down the grand spiral staircase. The boy wore a custom tuxedo studded with micro-diamonds, looking like a handsome prince. The girl was in a high-fashion evening gown, looking cold and regal. They were Christian and my so-called older sister, Olivia. Christian saw me, his lips curving into a polite but distant smile. “Is this… the brother we finally found?” He stood on the stairs, looking down at me, a flash of contempt crossing his eyes. Victoria immediately pulled him to her side, her voice softening. “Christian, sweetie, you do not need to come down. He is just here to stay for a few days.” Olivia, on the other hand, glared at me coldly. “Ethan, right? Let me make this clear. Now that you are back at the Vance estate, you better stay in your lane. Christian is sweet and innocent. If you try any dirty tricks or attempt to steal what belongs to him, I will make your life a living hell.” The four of them stood together, a united front, treating me like some evil intruder. I looked at Christian’s innocent face. Just as I was about to speak, a sharp, sudden pain shot through my brain. Then, a screeching, nasty voice exploded in my mind. This trailer trash looks so disgusting. He actually thinks he can come back and play the rich young master? In his dreams. Once tonight is over, I will find a random excuse to kick him out of this house forever. My eyes widened as I stared at Christian. His lips had not moved. He was still wearing that polite, saintly smile. Was I hallucinating? No. I focused my mind, lock-targeting his face. What are you staring at, hillbilly? Everything in the Vance family belongs to me. Mom, Dad, Olivia—they are mine. You are just a pathetic stray nobody wants. I took a deep breath. I could hear his thoughts. And I could feel that, as long as I willed it, I could transmit this voice to anyone in the room. This was an ability that had awakened after I hit my head in a minor car accident on my way here. I thought it was just tinnitus, but it turned out to be a gift from fate. I looked at my “dear sister” who was glaring at me, and a cold smile crept onto my face. Since you love your precious little brother so much, let me show you how “sweet” his mind really is. I focused my mind on Olivia and tapped the virtual “Broadcast” button in my head.

The air seemed to freeze. Olivia, who had been glaring at me coldly, suddenly stiffened. Her pupils dilated in sheer shock. Olivia is such a brainless btch. As long as I play the sweet little brother, she barks at whoever I want like a loyal guard dog. What a useful tool. Christian’s voice echoed with crystal-clear precision inside Olivia’s mind. Olivia turned her head slowly, staring at Christian in complete disbelief. “Christian… what did you… what did you just say?” her voice trembled. Christian looked completely bewildered, blinking his innocent eyes. “I did not say anything, Olivia. I was just saying that Ethan must have had a hard life…” What is wrong with this crazy btch? Why is she looking at me like that? Did she find out that I was the one who broke her boyfriend’s designer watch and blamed it on the new chauffeur? The second thought exploded in Olivia’s mind. Olivia’s face drained of all color. She took a step back, her eyes filled with absolute horror and shock as she looked at Christian. “Olivia, what is wrong? Why do you look so pale?” Victoria noticed her daughter’s distress and asked quickly. Olivia pointed at Christian, her lips trembling, but she could not squeeze out a single word. What could she say? That she heard her brother calling her a brainless dog in her head? Who would believe her? I chose that exact moment to look down, playing the part of the humble, mistreated son. “Olivia, is it because I am standing here? Am I ruining the mood? I will go to the servants’ quarters right now. I do not want to ruin Christian’s birthday.” My quiet, submissive behavior made Christian’s secret thoughts sound even more monstrous. Olivia looked at me with a whirlwind of emotions—shock, doubt, and a trace of guilt. “No need,” Olivia said, taking a deep breath to suppress the chaos in her heart. Her voice was raspy. “You are a biological Vance. You are not sleeping in the servants’ quarters. Mother, have someone get him a suit. He is joining the party.” “Olivia. Are you crazy?” Arthur glared at her. “Do you want him to walk out there like a hobo and make us a laughingstock?” Old man, you have already lost all your face anyway. Once I get my hands on the family shares, you are the first one I am kicking off the board of directors. This time, I switched the broadcast channel to Arthur. Arthur’s shouting stopped instantly. He looked as if he had been struck by lightning. He whipped his head toward Christian, his eyes bulging. “Father? What is wrong?” Christian was terrified by the murderous look in Arthur’s eyes. He shrank back toward Victoria. Arthur panted heavily, his chest rising and falling violently. He pointed a shaking finger at Christian. It took him a long moment before he spat out through clenched teeth: “Fine. Perfect. Get him changed. He is joining the party.” Victoria had no idea what was going on, but seeing her husband and daughter acting like they had seen a ghost, she did not dare argue. She reluctantly called a maid to take me upstairs. I followed the maid up the grand spiral staircase. At the landing, I stopped and looked down at the pale father and daughter, and the completely confused Christian. The show was just getting started.

The maid took me to a guest room at the end of the second floor. There was a suit laid out on the bed, clearly prepared in a hurry. It was a tight-fitting, neon-green suit made of cheap, shiny fabric. The style was so tacky and outdated that it looked like something a clown would wear to a cheap kid’s party. “Young Master Ethan, Master Christian personally picked this out for you. He said this color would make you stand out,” the maid said, keeping her head low, a hint of pity in her voice. Looking at the eyesore of a suit, I let out a cold laugh. Christian really went all out. If I were the old, insecure Ethan, walking into a room full of billionaires in this clown suit would have broken me. But I was not him anymore. Without hesitation, I put on the neon-green suit. If we were going to embarrass ourselves, let us make it a grand disaster for everyone. The moment I pushed open the doors of the grand ballroom, the chatter died down instantly. Every eye in the room locked onto me. Shock, disgust, mockery, amusement—a thousand different looks converged on me as if I were a circus animal. Victoria’s face turned almost as green as my suit. She looked like she wanted to sink into the floor. Arthur was shaking with rage, refusing to even look in my direction. Christian, wearing his dazzling custom tuxedo, walked toward me like a proud peacock. “Ethan, that is a very… unique look,” he said loudly, making sure the surrounding guests could hear. “Everyone, I want to introduce you to my brother who was lost for so many years, Ethan.” The crowd burst into whispers. “Is that the real son? Why is he dressed like a clown?” “Jeez, you cannot take the trash out of the gutter. He has none of Christian’s elegance.” “The Vance family must be mortified. If I were Arthur, I would pretend I did not know him.” Listening to the whispers, a smug, venomous grin flashed in Christian’s eyes. Laugh. Keep laughing, you hillbilly. This is what you get for trying to take my place. I will make sure you can never show your face in this city again. Looking at his fake smile, I patted his shoulder warmly, smiling even brighter than him. “Thanks for the compliment, Christian. After all, you picked this suit out for me yourself. You said it matched my personality perfectly.” The moment I said that, the mocking whispers paused. Several business rivals of the Vance family in the crowd suddenly looked very amused. Christian’s smile froze. “Ethan… I just thought the color was vibrant…” How dare this loser say that out loud. Just wait, I will destroy you later. I ignored his panic. My eyes swept over the guests who had been laughing at me. There was Mr. Richard Miller, a notorious new-money billionaire who was laughing the loudest. And Mr. Harold Cooper, a man who had married into a wealthy family and lived off his wife, looking down his nose at me. I smiled, targeted them, and turned on the “Group Broadcast” mode. Richard Miller is laughing so hard, but does he know his wife spent last night at her young boy toy’s apartment again? Apparently, the boy toy is threatening to expose everything to the tabloids. And Harold Cooper, the ultimate gold-digger. His precious son lost ten million dollars in underground gambling last month and embezzled company funds to cover the debt. The audit is coming next week, and he is going straight to prison. These were all secrets Christian had gathered. He loved digging up dirt on high society to use as leverage. And now, I was broadcasting all these secrets to the entire room using Christian’s own voice.

A bizarre, suffocating silence fell over the ballroom. Mr. Miller, who was laughing a second ago, froze. He whipped his head toward Christian, his eyes burning with pure, murderous rage. Mr. Cooper went completely ballistic. The champagne glass in his hand slipped and shattered on the marble floor. “Christian. What the hell did you just say?” Mr. Miller roared, lunging forward and grabbing Christian by his designer collar. Christian was paralyzed with fear. “Mr. Miller, what are you doing? I did not say anything.” “You are still lying. I heard you loud and clear. You said my wife has a boy toy. You little piece of sht, you have been spying on me.” Mr. Miller was out of his mind with embarrassment. He raised his hand and delivered a roaring slap right across Christian’s face. Slap. The sound echoed through the silent ballroom. “Ah.” Christian screamed, clutching his swollen cheek, stumbling backward. Before he could even recover, Mr. Cooper rushed him, grabbing his tuxedo jacket. “You venomous little brat. You dare accuse my son of embezzlement. I will teach you a lesson you will never forget.” The two distinguished, billionaire businessmen were now acting like rabid street fighters, shoving and hitting Christian. Christian’s expensive tuxedo was torn to shreds, his styled hair was ruined, and he screamed in terror as he was beaten. “Help. Mother. Olivia. Save me.” Victoria finally snapped out of her shock, screaming as she threw herself into the fray to break it up. Arthur and Olivia also rushed in to pull the angry men off. The ballroom descended into utter chaos. Screams, curses, and shattered glasses created a beautiful symphony. I stood on the edge of the crowd, watching the drama unfold with a cold smirk. I picked up a glass of champagne from a passing tray and took a slow, satisfying sip. Ah, top-shelf. Delicious. The grand birthday party the Vance family had spent months planning was now the biggest joke in New York high society. Eventually, security escorted the raging Mr. Miller and Mr. Cooper out, and the other guests quickly made excuses to leave. Within thirty minutes, the lively ballroom was completely empty, leaving behind a ruined, messy hall. Christian slumped in a chair, his hair disheveled, his face bruised and swollen, crying hysterically. Victoria held him, her eyes red from crying. Arthur’s face was black with rage. He whipped around and glared at me. “Did you do this?” he roared. “The moment you came back, everything went to hell. What did you do?” I set my glass down, looking completely innocent. “Father, what are you talking about? I was standing here the whole time, and I did not say a single word. Everyone saw it. Christian brought up those secrets and pissed off Mr. Miller and Mr. Cooper. What does that have to do with me?” “You ungrateful brat.” Arthur raised his hand to strike me. I did not flinch. I just stared at him coldly. Just before his hand hit my face, Olivia suddenly grabbed his wrist. “Father, stop,” Olivia said, her voice sounding incredibly exhausted. She looked at Christian, and for the first time, there was no affection in her eyes—only deep suspicion and disgust. “Something is very wrong today. But either way, the party is ruined. Let Christian go clean up.” Arthur gave me one last furious glare, then stormed off. As Victoria helped Christian walk upstairs, Christian shot me a look of pure, unadulterated hatred. Ethan, you bastard. I will make you pay for this humiliation a thousand times over. I met his gaze, my lips curving into a mocking smile. Anytime, little brother.

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The day the college admission letters were released, I was the only student in our entire small town to get into an Ivy League university. The town mayor, thrilled by the news, personally came to our house to present me with a $10,000 scholarship check. But right in front of everyone, my mother snatched the check straight out of my hand. The next second, she splashed a bucket of dirty mop water right at my feet. With her hands on her hips, she sneered loudly so the whole neighborhood could hear: “What’s the point of a girl going to a fancy college anyway?” “Since you got into some top-tier Ivy, your monthly allowance will be exactly $211! The rest of the money is going to your brother, Tyler, for his wedding and a new truck!” Standing next to her, Tyler’s trashy friends chimed in with nasty smirks: “Exactly. A girl like you has no business in college. Do us a favor and go work in a warehouse instead.” I didn’t say a single word. During that entire summer, I worked three part-time jobs simultaneously. I pushed myself so hard that I ended up in the ER with a bleeding stomach ulcer, but I never went back to ask them for a single penny. Eight years later. I became the youngest Chief Attending Physician at the state’s top hospital. Meanwhile, my mother was kicked out of her home because of the massive debts Tyler had racked up. Now half-paralyzed from a stroke, she was dumped right at my clinic door in the middle of the night. Grabbing the hem of my white doctor’s coat, she wept muddy tears: “Chloe, I had a stroke… The ICU bills are too expensive. You have to pay them for me…” I smiled faintly, pulled out $211 from my desk drawer, and stuffed the crumpled bills into her trembling hand. “Mom, the ICU is way too expensive. I found a nice, cheap spot for you on the street corner.” “If I gave you a single penny more, I’m afraid you wouldn’t be able to sleep peacefully.”

The half-closed door of my clinic was kicked open with a loud bang. Tyler rushed into the room, flanked by two tattooed thugs. He kicked the trash can near the entrance over, pointed a finger at my face, and screamed: “Chloe, are you even human? You’re a big-shot doctor now, making bank.” “And you throw two hundred bucks at your own mother who raised you? How can you be so heartless?!” The patients waiting in the hallway and the passing nurses were startled. A dozen people poked their heads into my clinic, whispering and gossiping among themselves. “What’s going on? Is that doctor refusing to take care of her own mother?” “The old lady looks really sick. Her daughter is dressed so professionally, but she won’t even pay her medical bills?” Hearing the commotion outside, Tyler smirked, looking even more pleased with himself. He marched up to my desk and slammed a thick stack of stamped documents right onto my keyboard. “Private VIP Suite Application!” Tyler yelled. “The doctor said Mom’s stroke is serious. She needs to stay in the best private luxury suite! As a physician at this hospital, you need to sign as her guarantor right now.” “And pay the $20,000 deposit! Otherwise, I’ll wreck this entire clinic today!” Margaret Vance, sitting in her wheelchair, took the cue. Clutching her chest, she began to wail: “How did I raise such an ungrateful monster? I worked myself to the bone to raise you, and now you won’t even care for your own mother…” I didn’t say a word. I calmly pushed the papers aside. I grabbed my mouse, clicked onto the hospital’s internal database, and pulled up her lab results from thirty minutes ago. I turned the computer monitor around so it faced the crowd gathering at the door. Then, I read the report out loud: “Margaret Vance, female, fifty-six years old. CT scans and blood work show: Mild lower back pain due to a herniated disc and slightly high cholesterol. Neurological reflexes: Completely normal. No signs of stroke or brain hemorrhage. Conclusion: No emergency or hospitalization required.” I looked up and stared directly at Tyler. “A herniated disc doesn’t even qualify for a regular ward bed, and you want a VIP private suite?” “Tyler, if you want to scam me for money, at least learn some basic medicine first.” The onlookers outside gasped, their expressions instantly turning into amusement. “Wait, so she didn’t even have a stroke?” “Is the brother crazy? Trying to scam his own sister at her workplace?” Having his lie exposed in public made Tyler’s face turn beet red. He slammed his palm on my desk and roared: “Back pain is still pain! My mom is hurting so much she can’t even walk!” “You’re giving us the money regardless! We aren’t leaving today without twenty thousand dollars!” One of the thugs behind him sneered: “Yeah, your mom worked so hard to raise you, and now you’re successful. It’s just twenty grand. Being this stingy is just cold-blooded.” I lowered my eyes, snatched the $211 back from Margaret’s hand, and slapped it onto her medical chart. “Keep it for some cheap painkillers. This is the last bit of decency I’m giving you.” With that, I pressed the security call button on my desk and leaned back in my chair.

Within minutes, three security guards arrived and dragged a screaming Tyler and his thugs out of the clinic area. Before he was pushed out, Tyler pointed a finger at me and roared: “Chloe! Just you wait! This isn’t over. I will destroy your reputation!” I thought the drama would stop for the day. But right after my lunch break, I went down to the main lobby to pick up some files. As soon as I stepped out of the elevator, I heard a loud, pathetic wailing. Tyler had pushed Margaret in her wheelchair right in front of the main reception desk, where the foot traffic was heaviest. Margaret was wiping tears, grabbing the clothes of random patients passing by, and crying: “Everyone, look at this! We were so poor back then, but I worked day and night to pay for her Ivy League tuition!” “Now that she’s a successful doctor, she won’t even pay a dime for my treatment. She’s throwing her own mother onto the streets!” Several young nurses frowned, turning their eyes away to avoid looking at me when I walked past. The Chief of Medicine, Dr. Reynolds, happened to be walking by. He pulled me into a quiet corner of the hallway. “Chloe, this is your promotion year, and the board thinks very highly of you.” “But having your family cause this kind of scene in the lobby is extremely bad for our image.” He had a weary, peace-keeping expression on his face as he said: “At the end of the day, she is still your mother.” “Why don’t you just pay some money and make this go away? Why make things so ugly?” I looked him in the eye and refused immediately: “Dr. Reynolds, giving in to people like them once will only make them greedier next time.” Dr. Reynolds sighed, shook his head, and walked away. A few nurses were whispering, glancing at their phones and then looking back at me. I checked my phone and realized Tyler had posted my old college admission photo in the patient-community group on Snapchat. He had added a caption full of lies: “This doctor is letting her own mother die just to protect her career.” The comments were racking up fast, with strangers calling me a monster. I didn’t run away. Instead, I walked straight toward Margaret’s wheelchair in the center of the lobby. Thinking I was finally breaking, Tyler held out his hand with a smug grin. “Thought it through? Give me the cash.” I ignored him entirely. I pulled out a few pages of old bank statements and transaction records from my bag. These were the documents I had carefully saved since that summer eight years ago. I unfolded the papers and spoke loudly, my voice echoing across the lobby: “Since everyone is so interested, let’s hear the truth about how she ‘worked day and night’ to send me to college.” “Freshman year, September 1st. Margaret Vance transferred exactly $211 into my account.” “October 1st, $211. November 1st, $211. She did this for four years straight. Not a single penny more, and not a single penny less.” The lobby fell dead silent. The whispering nurses stared in shock. That amount of money couldn’t even cover a week’s worth of basic groceries, let alone textbooks or rent. I flipped to the next page and raised my voice: “Also during my freshman year, September 10th. Margaret Vance transferred $21,000 to my brother Tyler’s account. The transaction note read: ‘For Tyler’s new motorcycle.’” “On October 15th, she transferred another $5,000. Note: ‘Tyler’s birthday present.’” I slammed the copies hard onto the armrest of Margaret’s wheelchair. “Mrs. Vance, back then you told everyone that because I was a girl, I only deserved $211 a month, and that all the money had to be saved for your precious son.” I bent down, staring straight into her shifting, guilty eyes. “I am now giving you $211 a month as an ‘appreciation fee.’ Don’t you think I’m being incredibly generous?” Nobody in the lobby said a word. The nurses who had been whispering turned red and looked down. Margaret lowered her head, trying to stammer an excuse: “But… but I worked hard for that money! The family was poor back then…” “Poor enough to spend over twenty-six thousand dollars on a motorcycle and birthday gifts for a son who flunked out of high school?” I scoffed. The crowd gasped. Seeing that no one was taking their side anymore, Tyler lost his temper. He lunged forward and shoved my shoulder hard. “Shut up! You’re just a heartless, ungrateful bitch!” I took half a step back, pointed at the security camera right above us, and said: “The cameras are rolling, Tyler. Touch me again, and I’ll have the police arrest you for assaulting hospital staff. Let’s see how you like spending a few days in a cell.” Tyler’s hand froze mid-air. He grit his teeth and slowly backed down.

The afternoon was packed with surgeries and consultations. Margaret and Tyler remained camped out on the benches in the hospital lobby. Right before my shift ended, I received a call from the mayor of my hometown. “Chloe, did your mother go to the city to find you?” Mayor Davis lowered his voice over the phone. “I’m only telling you this because you always send free medical supplies and charity checkups to the elderly back in our town. Don’t let them trick you. Your mother didn’t go to the city because she’s broke.” I tightened my grip on the phone. “Mayor Davis, please tell me.” “Two months ago, the city bought our old neighborhood for redevelopment. Your family’s old house was bought out by the developers.” “The first buyout check of $600,000 was wired to your mother’s account weeks ago!” Mayor Davis let out a long sigh. “But your brother is a gambling addict. He got mixed up with some dangerous loan sharks and owed them a fortune. They threatened his life right at their doorstep.” “Tyler forced your mother to hand over the entire $600,000 to clear his debts. Once the money was gone, he complained that her back pain was too much of a burden. So, he drove her to the city overnight and dumped her on you to get rid of her!” I hung up, and everything clicked. They had squandered $600,000. Now that the old woman was broke and sick, they wanted to dump her on me. How convenient. As I was changing out of my scrubs, the door to the break room was pushed open. Tyler walked in, accompanied by a heavy-set, middle-aged man. It was my Uncle Richard, a distant relative from our hometown. Richard immediately assumed the role of the family patriarch, pointing a finger at me and lecturing: “Chloe! What was that stunt you pulled in the lobby today? Airing your family’s dirty laundry like that? Where is your respect for your mother?” I looked at him coldly. “Richard, family drama is dirty laundry. But publicly defaming me to extort money is a crime.” “How dare you talk back to me!” Richard slammed his fist on a table, spitting out his toxic, backward logic. “In our town, the family property goes to the son, and the daughter is solely responsible for the parents’ medical bills and funeral! That is how things are done!” “You’re successful now. You must carry the family load!” Tyler, feeling empowered by Richard’s presence, drew a “Support Responsibility Agreement” from his pocket and slapped it onto the table. “Look closely!” Tyler sneered, tapping the paper. “This legal document states that from now on, Chloe Vance will fully cover all of Margaret Vance’s living expenses, medical bills, and nursing home fees!” I glanced at the paper. My eyes locked onto a line written in tiny font near the bottom. The clause required me to pay Tyler an additional $5,000 per month as a “caregiving fee.” “Do you honestly think that if you print something on a piece of paper, robbery suddenly becomes legal?” I asked. Margaret was wheeled into the room, sobbing: “Chloe, I’m dying… Your brother needs to get married, and he’s under so much pressure. You make so much money, why can’t you just help him?” Tyler stepped closer, leaning over my desk threateningly. “Chloe, I’m telling you. If you don’t sign this today, I will hire ten elderly people to book your appointments every single day starting tomorrow!” “They will occupy every slot, scream, and make a scene in your clinic. Let’s see how you get your promotion then. I will ruin your career!” Richard pushed a pen toward me. “Sign it and put your thumbprint down! Don’t be ungrateful!” I looked at the three of them. I didn’t touch the pen, and I didn’t lose my temper. I stepped back as my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out. It was a text notification from the Land Registry Bureau. Looking at the confirmation message, I let out a quiet sigh of relief and put my phone away. My trap was set.

The next morning, Tyler took Margaret’s medical chart straight to the Patient Relations Department to file a formal complaint, accusing me of professional misconduct. Dr. Reynolds immediately called us all into a conference room for mediation. Margaret was parked in her wheelchair in the corner, her eyes closed as she pretended to be semi-conscious. Two social workers, Mrs. Gable and Mr. Miller, were also invited as neutral witnesses. Dr. Reynolds took a sip of his coffee and tapped the table. “Dr. Vance, you are one of our top talents. But medical ethics are closely tied to personal integrity. This family dispute is harming the hospital’s reputation.” “You need to look at the bigger picture.” Tyler sat with his legs crossed, looking incredibly smug. He pushed the agreement and a premium nursing home quote to the center of the table. “Dr. Reynolds, we’re reasonable people,” Tyler said grandly. “As long as she signs these documents, guaranteeing she will cover all of Mom’s future expenses,” “And pays us a $50,000 deposit today, I will take Mom and leave immediately. No more trouble for the hospital.” Uncle Richard chimed in from the side: “Exactly. This is the best way to protect your career. Spend a little money to buy peace, Chloe. Don’t be petty with your own blood.” Margaret wept quietly: “Chloe, please sign… save your mother. Your brother doesn’t have a real job. He’s struggling…” Dr. Reynolds, believing that paying them off was the easiest way to make the problem go away, picked up the pen and offered it to me. The two social workers whispered to each other. “She makes good money as a doctor. Spending fifty grand to buy peace is worth it.” “Her own mother is begging her. Staying stubborn just makes her look heartless.” Everyone in the room looked at me, expecting me to break under the pressure and write the check. Tyler leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with greed. I stood at the end of the long table, looking at the papers. My expression was completely blank. I reached out and picked up the stack of documents. Dr. Reynolds sighed in relief, and a massive grin spread across Tyler’s face. But I didn’t take the pen. I flipped through the papers until my fingers rested on the very last pagea document that definitely did not belong to the nursing home agreement. I paused, a cold smile forming on my lips. I took that document, which bore a bright red legal seal, and slammed it face-down on the table.

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I used to think Theodore Foster and I were each other’s everything. Twenty years as childhood sweethearts, seven years in a marriage forged through hardship—we went from having nothing to building a fortune worth hundreds of billions together. But I never imagined that after he made it big, I would be kicked out of the game by one cold divorce certificate. My parents and my child all became sacrifices to this love. So I let everything go and left the country to start over. But Theodore Foster, why are you crying? Nancy Davis POV When I pushed open the doors of the Civil Affairs Bureau, I was still thinking that maybe I was just overreacting. The message from that unknown number was too absurd—“You still don’t know, do you? Your husband divorced you.” Theodore Foster and I had grown up together. We had been married for seven years. How could I not know what kind of person he was? And yet, that ridiculous sentence kept echoing in my heart. I stood in front of the counter and hesitated for a long time before asking the clerk to check my marital status for me. “Hello. Could you please check my marital status?” The clerk looked up at me, her gaze a little strange. Then she tapped on the keyboard and paused for a few seconds. “Ma’am, you are currently divorced. The divorce was finalized a week ago.” My eyes flew wide. My legs went weak beneath me, and I had to grip the counter to steady myself. What that unknown number said was actually true? Theodore Foster had divorced me behind my back? Unwilling to give up, I gave her his ID number and asked her to check. “Could you please check Theodore Foster’s marital status as well? His ID number is xxxxxxxxx.” The clerk glanced at me, probably finding the name familiar. After all, Theodore Foster was considered a major figure in River City. After typing a few times, the clerk gave a brief reply. “Mr. Foster is married.” “Married? To whom?” The moment I heard that, I fell apart. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you. That is a citizen’s personal privacy.” He divorced me, then married someone else. Who was it? When did it happen? I walked out of the Civil Affairs Bureau, and a cold chill ran over me. I took out my phone and sent three words to that unknown number: “Who are you?” My hands were shaking so badly that it took me several tries to send it. The other party did not reply. I called Theodore Foster again. It rang for a long time, but no one answered. For a moment, I felt completely lost, so I just kept walking down the road. Ahead was a large banyan grove, the place where, when I was young, I had dreamed countless times of holding my wedding. Without realizing it, I walked toward it. Theodore Foster and I had been married for seven years, but we had never had a wedding. Back then, we had gotten married in a hurry. We had just started our business and were dirt poor. Theodore Foster had wanted a wedding, but to save him money, I refused. Later, when we had money, Theodore Foster became so busy he could barely split himself in two, and the wedding kept getting pushed back again and again. I had drawn a wedding design, and it had always been kept in the drawer of his office desk. He had promised me he would hold it, but year after year, he never fulfilled that promise. That banyan grove was especially lively today. White and pale pink cascading flowers hung down everywhere, like smoke, like mist. Warm golden sunlight filtered through the gaps in the trees, scattering bright specks across the moss-covered ground. Crystal bead curtains swayed gently between the crowns of the trees. Everything looked dreamlike. But the scene was so familiar it made me unable to breathe. Because this wedding design was exactly the same as the one I had made for my own wedding! Who had used my design? My gaze involuntarily turned toward the guests seated among the trees. Not far away, there were indeed a few figures I recognized—they were Theodore Foster’s friends. So, one of Theodore Foster’s friends was getting married and had used my wedding design? Would Theodore Foster come today, then? But he had clearly told me that he was on a business trip to Ocean City these two days. Why did he lie to me? My heart sank lower and lower, as if I had reached some dangerous edge, and one more step forward would be a bottomless abyss. I hid behind a huge banyan tree, my eyes sweeping over the wedding venue as I searched for Theodore Foster. Very soon, I saw the groom onstage. The groom had his back to me. His suit was crisp, his posture tall and straight. The moment he turned around, all the blood in my body went cold. It was Theodore Foster. It was Theodore Foster, who was supposed to be on a business trip in Ocean City. It was my husband, Theodore Foster, whom I had known for more than twenty years and been married to for seven! Not only had Theodore Foster divorced me behind my back, he had also used my design to hold a wedding with someone else! My heart instantly sank to the very bottom of the abyss, and all the blood in my body seemed to stop flowing. I had imagined countless times what Theodore Foster would look like standing on a wedding stage in formalwear. Today, I finally saw it. But he was someone else’s groom. Tears clouded my eyes. Anger and grievance surged over me all at once. I saw the man onstage take out his phone, frown at the screen for a moment, and finally hang up the call. When I called again, the man was completely unaware. He had put his phone on silent. It was as if my world had been muted too. My thoughts drifted back to the past. Theodore Foster and I were neighbors when we were little. Theodore Foster’s father died young, and his mother was addicted to gambling. When Theodore Foster was a child, no one took care of him. It was my parents who brought him into our home, gave him clothes to wear, and made sure he had enough to eat. The two of us grew up together. In high school, we became each other’s first love and got into the same university. I still remember the day we reported to campus. He hugged me excitedly and said he would only love me for the rest of his life. After graduating from university, Theodore Foster started his business. He was so busy he neglected meals and ruined his stomach. When my parents found out, their hearts ached for him, so they often cooked meals and delivered them to his company. Once, my father got into a car accident on the way to deliver dinner to him. Before my father passed away, to put the old man’s heart at ease, Theodore Foster insisted on registering a marriage with me. Right in front of me, he knelt by my father’s hospital bed and told my father not to worry. He said that as long as he was there, I would always be the happiest person in the world. Because of that, I had always believed in Theodore Foster without question. We were lovers, family, and the people who trusted each other most. I thought Theodore Foster would love me for the rest of my life. I never imagined his promise would only be valid for seven years. The wedding officially began, and a burst of orchestral music pulled me back from my thoughts. The bride walked over slowly in a luxurious haute couture wedding dress. I knew her. She was Sophie Scott. She was also the daughter of Scott Group, Theodore Foster’s biggest business partner. I tugged at the corners of my lips, forcing out an expression that looked half like a smile and half like a sob. So it was her. Ever since Theodore Foster began working with the Scotts two years ago, he had come home later and later and taken more and more business trips. I had thought it was because of work, so I never asked. I never imagined the two of them had already gone from business partners to life partners. Not far away, the voices of Theodore Foster’s friends drifted over: “Man, Sophie Scott and Theodore Foster really are a better match.” “Exactly. One is a well-bred heiress, the other is a billionaire CEO. They’re well-matched in status. Nancy Davis is just a housewife, after all. She isn’t good enough for Mr. Foster.” “Don’t say that in front of Mr. Foster. Mr. Foster said Nancy Davis’s family did him a great kindness, and Nancy Davis will always be the person closest and dearest to him.” I almost laughed out loud, but inside, I was drowning in grief. What a wonderful “closest and dearest person.” The person closest and dearest to me turned me from his lawful wife into the shameful other woman! The wedding continued. The officiant was reading the vows. I could not listen anymore. I turned around and dragged myself away. Theodore Foster, since you betrayed me, I won’t want you anymore either.

Nancy Davis POV I didn’t go home. I took a cab straight to the immigration agency. “I want to immigrate. The sooner, the better,” I said. The immigration agent said that with expedited processing, it could be done within a month. I nodded and left my documents there. When I got home and pushed open the door, the maid immediately came up to me, her face full of worry. “Mrs. Foster, where did you go? Mr. Foster has been looking for you like crazy. He called so many times and told you to call him back right away!” I took out my phone and saw dozens of missed calls. I called back, and he picked up after one ring. “Nancy! Where did you go? Why didn’t you answer your phone?” His voice was breathless, as if he truly had been anxious. As I walked toward the walk-in closet, I answered, “I went shopping. My phone was in my bag, so I didn’t hear it.” Theodore Foster clearly let out a sigh of relief. “From now on, keep your phone in your hand when you go out. Don’t make me worry, okay?” After a pause, he said again, “I was negotiating with a client earlier. My phone was on silent, so I missed your call. What did you need me for? Did you miss me?” I gave a soft mm-hmm. Theodore Foster chuckled in satisfaction, and his tone softened too. “I still have to be away on business for another two days. I’ll definitely make it back for your mother’s birthday.” How hard it must be for him. While honeymooning with his new wife, he still had to remember to celebrate the birthday of the mother of his ex-wife. After hanging up, I walked into the walk-in closet. Haute couture gowns, limited-edition handbags, and high-end jewelry filled the room. I ran my hand over a Himalaya Birkin. He had bought it for me when his company earned its first ten million. Back then, he had held me and said he would never let me suffer again, that whatever other people had, I would have too. Beside it was a one-of-a-kind haute couture gown. He had custom ordered it for me for his company’s fifth anniversary annual gala. That day, standing onstage in front of everyone, he said, “The most important person today is my wife.” In the jewelry cabinet, there was a necklace he had bought for eighty million at auction. On the day his company went public, he personally put it around my neck and said he wanted to make me a woman everyone envied. He clasped it around my neck with his own hands. “Nancy, I will make you a woman everyone envies.” Once, I thought these expensive things represented his love. Only now did I understand they were merely apology gifts for each time he failed to show up. He had spent a lot of money, but he had long since stopped spending any thought. I called the butler over and told him to put everything away and contact an auction house. The butler froze and asked me, “Everything?” I said yes. Everything. Not one piece left. The butler did not ask anything else and turned to make the arrangements. Two days later, Theodore Foster came back. The moment he entered, he buried his face in my neck. “Nancy, I missed you so much. Business trips are exhausting. Only when I hold you do I feel like I’ve come back to life.” I couldn’t control myself as I thought of the wedding, of Theodore Foster in his groom’s suit, gazing at Sophie Scott with deep affection. I forced back my tears and instinctively took a step back. He didn’t notice. From behind his back, he took out a dark-blue gift box and handed it to me. “Open it. I bought it especially for you.” I opened it and saw a diamond bracelet. I casually set it on the entryway console. “Let’s go to bed early. Tomorrow we have to go to the hospital to see my mother.” He paused, probably sensing that my reaction was off. He looked at me a few times, but said nothing and nodded. The next morning, I was drinking coffee when he came out of the bedroom, wearing the dark-gray suit I had matched for him the night before. He walked up to me, lowered his head, and handed me his tie, asking me to tie it for him. I stood up, straightened his collar, and tied his tie. Then I asked casually, “When you’re on business trips, who ties your tie for you?” I looked at him and smiled. His smile froze for an instant, panic flashing through his eyes before he quickly returned to normal. “I can only do it myself. I can never get it right. Nancy still does it best.” I did not say anything else. On the way to the hospital, his phone rang. In the reflection of the car window, I saw two words pop up on the screen: Sophie Scott. He glanced at me nervously. Seeing that I was looking out the window, he answered the call.

Nancy Davis POV “What? Okay, I’ll be right there!” He hung up and turned to look at me, his expression anxious. “Nancy, there’s an urgent project at the company. I have to—” I reminded him, “Today is my mother’s birthday. You promised.” He frowned impatiently. “Nancy, this is urgent company business. Your mother will understand. I’ll personally apologize to her next time.” I couldn’t remember how many times he had used an excuse like this to abandon me. I was too tired to argue. “Let me out at the intersection ahead. I’ll take a cab.” He let out a breath of relief. “Apologize to your mother for me. I’ll visit her another day.” “No need. These past few years, my mother’s illness has been thanks to you too.” That was true. Ever since my mother developed severe heart disease, she had relied on imported specialty medication to get through each day. The treatment costs were enormous, and Theodore Foster had paid for all of them. His tone softened. “Without your parents, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Taking care of your mother is what I should do.” I opened the car door and got out without hesitation. I took a cab to the hospital alone. When I pushed open the ward door, my mother was sitting on the edge of the bed, slowly moving her legs. “Mom.” My mother looked up and smiled at me. “Nancy, you’re here?” She looked behind me. When she did not see Theodore Foster, disappointment flashed in her eyes, but she said, “Theodore is busy with work, but you have to remind him to take care of his health. He may be young, but he isn’t made of iron.” My throat tightened, and I swallowed it back with effort. I sat down beside my mother’s bed and hesitated for a long time before speaking. “Mom, I’m going abroad in a while. I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone in the country. Will you come with me?” My mother’s hand stilled. She looked at me for a long while, her gaze gradually sharpening. “Nancy, tell me the truth. Is Theodore treating you badly?” The one person in the world you can never hide from is your own mother. I lowered my head and said nothing. My mother was silent for a moment, then reached out and held my hand. “Nancy, you are the daughter your dad and I treasured most. We’re not going to let you suffer. Wherever you go, I’ll go. While I can still stand, I’ll go with you.” I could not hold back anymore and threw myself into my mother’s arms. The two of us held each other and cried so hard we could not speak. After leaving the ward, I wiped away my tears and immediately sent my mother’s documents to the immigration agent. Then I went to the payment office to pay my mother’s medical fees for the month. After paying, I was walking back when I passed the obstetrics and gynecology department, and my footsteps abruptly froze. Theodore Foster and Sophie Scott were walking side by side in front of me. One of Theodore Foster’s arms was around Sophie Scott’s waist, and the other was carefully protecting the area in front of her belly. So this was the urgent project he had mentioned. I lowered my head and refused to look at the perfect couple, but their conversation still reached my ears clearly. Sophie Scott smiled brightly at Theodore Foster. “It’s only a little over three months. You don’t have to be this nervous.” Theodore Foster frowned and corrected her. “This is my son, the future heir of Foster Group. How could I not be nervous?” My steps suddenly faltered. How familiar those words were. Three years ago, when I was four months pregnant, Theodore Foster had supported me like this during my prenatal checkup too. At the time, his hand had also protected my belly, and he had been extremely wary of everyone who came near me. He had said to my stomach, “This is my son, the future heir of Foster Group. No one is allowed to touch him.” But not long after he said those words, Theodore Foster’s business rival deliberately staged a car accident to get revenge on him. I was four months pregnant when the crash threw me out of the car. The baby was gone. The doctor told me my uterus had suffered severe damage, and my chances of getting pregnant again in the future were slim to none. Afterward, Theodore Foster used swift and ruthless measures to send the perpetrator to prison. He sat beside my hospital bed, his eyes red as he held my hand. “Nancy, we won’t have children anymore. Even without a child, the two of us are still a complete family.” I believed him. I never imagined that in just three years, he would have a child with someone else, and a home with someone else. So his devotion and tenderness were never reserved only for me. I looked away and quickened my pace, brushing past them from behind. Just then, the door to the obstetrics department was suddenly shoved open. A woman with disheveled hair rushed out from inside. She was gripping a fruit knife in her hand and screaming, “You killed my baby! I’ll kill you!” The woman charged straight toward Sophie Scott. Sophie Scott screamed in terror. Theodore Foster reacted extremely quickly. He grabbed Sophie Scott and pulled her back. At the same time, his other hand yanked backward hard, pulling me in front of Sophie Scott as a shield. Everything happened in an instant. Before I could react, I only felt a chill across my abdomen. Then, a burst of agony exploded through my lower belly. I looked down and saw that the knife had already sunk into my lower abdomen. Blood gushed from the wound. All the strength drained from my legs in an instant, and I collapsed to my knees. In the last moment before I lost consciousness, I saw Theodore Foster holding the fainted Sophie Scott tightly in his arms, his face filled with panic and heartache. He did not look my way even once. I was overwhelmed by resentment until I sank completely into darkness.

Nancy Davis POV When I woke again, I was in a hospital room. A stranger sat by my bed, a caregiver in her fifties, her head lowered as she knitted a sweater. Seeing my eyes open, the caregiver put down her work and hurried out to call the doctor. The attending physician was a woman in her forties. After looking through my medical records, she spoke with anger barely held back in her voice. “Do you know how hard it was for you to conceive this baby? How could you come for a prenatal checkup alone? Well, now the child is gone, and it will be almost impossible for you to get pregnant again.” I froze. I had been pregnant? My hand moved on its own to cover my lower abdomen. My abdomen was wrapped in gauze, flat and empty. So, without my knowing, I had another child. The child we had hoped for for so many years. After that car accident, the doctors had determined that it would be nearly impossible for me to conceive again. Theodore Foster and I had grieved over it for a long time. I had even secretly gone to hospital after hospital, searching for treatment and medicine, swallowing countless bitter remedies and going through endless examinations. I thought it would be impossible in this lifetime. Perhaps heaven had taken pity on me after all, giving me this miracle when I was at my most desperate. And yet this miracle had been destroyed by the child’s own father, with his own hands, all to protect another woman. My eyes burned until they ached. Every last bit of strength I had left went into clenching my fists. My lower abdomen hurt. My heart hurt. Every inch of my body hurt. I bit down hard on my lower lip, so hard that blood seeped from the corner of my mouth. The female doctor looked at me and seemed unable to bear it. Her tone softened. “You’re still young. When you meet the wrong person, you have to cut your losses in time.” The caregiver beside her chimed in too. “That’s right. You were unconscious for a whole day, and not a single person from your family or his came by. No one even asked about you.” “Look at Mr. Foster. He’s so busy, but he still accompanied his wife for her prenatal checkup.” “Although this time, he accidentally ran into you and caused your injury, he had his assistant pay all your medical bills right away and even hired me to take care of you.” As she spoke, the caregiver took a business card from the drawer and placed it by my pillow. “His assistant told me that once you’re discharged, you should contact him to discuss compensation afterward. I heard this Mr. Foster isn’t short on money. Once you get the money, if you need to divorce, then divorce. Let go of that scumbag and start over on your own.” I stared at the ceiling without speaking. Family? What family did I have left? My father had died in a car accident while delivering food to Theodore Foster. My mother lay in a hospital room upstairs, relying on expensive medication to keep a heart that might stop at any moment beating. My husband was with his new wife. As for my mother-in-law, Fiona Foster… Back when Theodore Foster was poor, Fiona Foster praised me whenever she saw me, saying I was capable and virtuous. She was so attentive it almost felt like she was trying to curry favor, terrified that I would look down on Theodore Foster for having no money and leave him. Later, after Theodore Foster succeeded in his business, Fiona Foster’s attitude toward me changed. She remained polite, but she became much colder. After my miscarriage three years ago, when the doctor said Nancy Davis was almost impossible to get pregnant again, Fiona Foster changed her face completely. Not only did she often make things difficult for me, she also blamed me openly and in private for cutting off the Foster family line. Theodore Foster flew into a rage over it and forbade Fiona Foster from coming to our home again, completely separating me from my mother-in-law. At this moment, what relatives did I have who could come to my side? I lay alone on a hospital bed, saying goodbye to our unborn child. Meanwhile, Theodore Foster and his darling wife were looking forward to the arrival of their child. How ironic. My phone lit up. It was a photo from that unfamiliar number. In the photo, on a beach where the sea met the sky, Sophie Scott leaned in Theodore Foster’s arms. Theodore Foster held her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder. The two of them smiled at the camera, sweet and perfectly in sync. A line of text followed underneath: [Your ex-husband is on his honeymoon. You can just lie in the hospital by yourself.] Right after that, a message from Theodore Foster popped up on WhatsApp: [Nancy, something urgent came up at the company. I need to go on a business trip for a week. Take good care of yourself. I’ll bring you a gift when I come back. I love you.] That was right. Newlywed bliss naturally meant a honeymoon. Now I knew who that unfamiliar number belonged to. It was Sophie Scott. I looked at the messages the two of them had sent one after the other. One showing off, one lying. It was simply the funniest joke I had ever heard in my life. I laughed and laughed, and then tears streamed down my face. Over the next few days, Sophie Scott never tired of it. Every day, she sent me photos. On the first day, it was Theodore Foster personally feeding Sophie Scott strawberries, his profile wearing a gentle smile. Back in college, Theodore Foster had fed me strawberries like that too. But in recent years, it had happened less and less. On the second day, it was a photo of the two of them on a yacht. Sophie Scott wore a bikini, and Theodore Foster held her from behind, intimate to the extreme. On the third day, it was a photo of a diamond bracelet. The caption read: [He said this is a gift for the mother of our child.] I touched my empty lower abdomen, my heart icy cold. On the fourth day, the photo Sophie Scott sent made my hands tremble violently. Messy bedsheets. A man’s bare shoulders and back. A woman’s arm draped over him. The caption read: [He said you’re like a dead fish. Boring as hell.] I flipped my phone face down on the bed and closed my eyes. Tears slid from the corners of my eyes into the pillow. Thanks to Sophie Scott, these past few days, Nancy Davis’s tears had barely stopped. I did not want to let him affect my emotions anymore. But we had more than twenty years of feelings between us. I could not control it.

Nancy Davis POV A week later, I was discharged. I took a cab home by myself. When the maid saw me come in, she hurried over. “Mrs. Foster, where have you been? Why do you look so pale?” I waved my hand and said nothing, heading straight upstairs back to the bedroom. After resting at home for another three days, my complexion slowly improved. But I did not want to stay in this house even one more day, so I called the immigration agent. “When will my paperwork be ready?” “Ms. Davis, we are already expediting the documents for you and your mother. Everything should be completed within three weeks.” “Okay, I—” “What immigration? Who’s immigrating?” Theodore Foster pushed the door open and walked in, his expression tense. My heart lurched. I quickly hung up the phone and set my phone down with a normal expression. “A friend of my mother asked me to help ask about it.” Seeing my calm expression, Theodore Foster finally relaxed his tense shoulders. He reached out and pulled me into his arms. “Let me hold you. I haven’t seen you in so many days. You’ve lost weight.” He stroked my hair with heartache. “It’s all my fault. I’m always on business trips. For the next few days, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay with Nancy properly.” “Next time, let’s go to Bali island, okay? I heard there’s a restaurant on the sea cliffs there. The lobster is especially fresh, and the sunset is beautiful too.” I leaned in his arms, my whole body stiff. In the photos Sophie Scott had sent, the place where they had gone for their honeymoon was Bali island. The cliffside restaurant he mentioned was one he had just taken Sophie Scott to. Listening to his lies, my heart felt as if it were being carved up. How hard it must have been for him. After having fun honeymooning with his new wife, he still did not forget to share it with me, his ex-wife. “If you stay with me, what about your company?” What I did not ask was, what about your new wife? What about your unborn child? Theodore Foster chuckled softly. “How could the company be more important than Nancy? Nothing in the world can stop me from staying with my wife.” As he spoke, he took out a gift bag. Inside was a limited-edition Birkin. “Saw it on my business trip. It’s for you. Do you like it?” I looked at that expensive bag and forced myself to squeeze out a smile. “I like it.” The next day, Theodore Foster took me to a lakeside French restaurant for dinner. After we were seated, Theodore Foster expertly instructed the waiter, “No truffle sauce with the foie gras. Medium-well steak with black pepper sauce. Crème brûlée for dessert, no chocolate.” After the waiter noted it down and left, Theodore Foster skillfully replaced the ice water in front of me with warm water. When the steak was served, he deftly cut it into small pieces for me and arranged them on my plate. I lowered my head, not letting my tears fall. He clearly still remembered every habit of how to love me. So why could his heart drift to someone else? “Mr. Foster, what a coincidence.” A bright female voice interrupted us. Sophie Scott walked over in an haute couture dress, poised and graceful. Theodore Foster frowned, his expression displeased. “Ms. Scott. What a coincidence.” A flash of disappointment crossed Sophie Scott’s face, but she quickly hid it and smiled at me. “That’s right. The client I’m waiting for just won’t show, and I don’t want to eat alone. Mrs. Foster, would you mind sharing a table?” Before I could answer, she had already pulled out a chair on her own and sat down. Theodore Foster looked at me nervously. My expression remained calm as I lowered my head and took a sip of water. Seeing that I had no reaction, Theodore Foster did not say anything more. He waved the waiter over to add more dishes. He flipped through the menu and ordered several more. Listening to the dishes he named, Sophie Scott laughed softly. “Mr. Foster still remembers what I like to eat.” Theodore Foster’s hand paused mid-order. He immediately looked at me guiltily and explained, “Ms. Scott and I often have working meals together. After enough time, I just remembered. Nancy, don’t overthink it.” I pulled my lips into an ugly smile and lowered my head, eating now and then without interest. He remembered my dietary restrictions, and he also remembered Sophie Scott’s preferences. He remembered both of our tastes perfectly. What a deeply devoted man he was. During the meal, Theodore Foster went to the hallway to take a call. As soon as he left, the smile on Sophie Scott’s face turned cold. She put down her knife and fork, looking at me with a half-smile. “Nancy Davis, Theodore already got married to me. I didn’t expect you’d be willing to be the other woman and still refuse to leave.” I lifted my eyes and met her gaze. “Ms. Scott, you were the other woman who just managed to climb into position, and now you’re here mocking someone else as the other woman? If you could control your man, you wouldn’t have shown up here today.” Sophie Scott’s smile stiffened on her face. I gave a cold snort. “The trash I don’t want anymore, you’re welcome to pick up yourself. But why do I feel like he wasn’t very happy to see you just now?” Sophie Scott had always been proud and arrogant. These were the words she could least bear to hear. Her face flushed bright red. She abruptly stood, grabbed my arm, and yanked me up. “Today I’ll let you see exactly who he likes!” She pulled me so hard that I staggered to my feet. Before I could react, Sophie Scott had already dragged me with force and jumped into the lake outside the terrace.

Nancy Davis POV The instant I fell into the lake, all the blood in my body seemed to freeze. When I was a child, I had fallen into a river. Water had flooded my mouth and nose, and I had nearly drowned. Ever since then, I had been afraid of water. I had never learned to swim. Theodore Foster knew that. The icy lake water surged into my ears, my nasal cavity, my throat. I struggled desperately, but my limbs would not obey, as if they had been tied down. My body sank like a stone. Terror pressed down on me from every direction. Hearing the commotion, Theodore Foster rushed to the lakeside. When he saw me in the water, his face changed drastically. Without hesitation, he jumped in and swam toward me. Through the water, I vaguely saw his figure approaching. On the other side, Sophie Scott screamed, “The baby! My stomach—” Theodore Foster’s movements came to a sudden halt. I saw struggle and pain flash across his face. I saw him clench his jaw. In the end, he changed direction and swam toward Sophie Scott. He chose Sophie Scott. I watched helplessly as Theodore Foster got farther and farther away from me. My throat felt as if someone had grabbed it, and I could not make a sound. The lake water closed over my head. I gave up struggling and slowly closed my eyes. When I opened my eyes again, it was the familiar hospital room once more. Theodore Foster sat in the chair by my bed. I did not know how long he had been keeping watch. His eyes were bloodshot. Seeing me wake up, he immediately knelt in front of my bed and gripped my hands tightly in both of his. “I’m sorry, Nancy. I mistook her for you. The water was too murky at the time. I couldn’t see clearly. I didn’t do it on purpose. I’m sorry…” I closed my eyes and no longer looked at him. Even now, he was still lying. He had chosen Sophie Scott, then run to me and pretended to be hopelessly devoted. He dared to do it, but not to admit it. I did not want to hear his lies anymore. Theodore Foster kept apologizing, repeating “I’m sorry” over and over. I interrupted him. “I’m hungry.” “Okay. Okay, I’ll go buy food right now.” Theodore Foster hurriedly stood and almost ran out of the hospital room. The room was finally quiet. But it was not quiet for long before the door was pushed open again. Sophie Scott walked in holding a bouquet of lilies. Seeing that Theodore Foster was not there, her dignified bearing became haughty and condescending. The last trace of disguise vanished from her face, revealing unconcealed malice. “Nancy Davis, you saw it, didn’t you? He chose me. Why aren’t you getting lost already?” I turned my head away and did not look at her. Seeing that I had no reaction, Sophie Scott immediately became dissatisfied. She toyed with her long fingernails, her tone casual. “Let me tell you the truth. That crazy woman in the obstetrics department? I arranged it.” She stared at me viciously. “Originally, I wanted her to stab you to death. Who knew you’d be so lucky and survive? But it wasn’t a total waste. She stabbed that little bastard in your belly to death. That’s not bad either.” My mind exploded with a boom. In an instant, all the blood in my body rushed to my head, and my ears rang. I abruptly raised my hand and slapped Sophie Scott hard across the face. “Bastard!” Sophie Scott’s face was knocked to the side, and a red mark quickly rose on her cheek. But instead of getting angry, she smiled, using the gentlest tone to say the most vicious words. “Your child was the bastard. A little bastard who didn’t have the life to survive.” The string of my reason snapped. I raised my hand to slap her again. “Enough, Nancy Davis!” Theodore Foster seized my wrist hard. The takeout boxes he had just bought fell to the floor, soup splashing everywhere. He forcefully shoved me toward the head of the bed. The back of my head hit the bedrail, and pain blackened my vision. Theodore Foster did not spare me a glance. He hurriedly supported Sophie Scott, his eyes anxiously scanning her up and down. “Are you hurt? What are you doing here?” With reddened eyes, Sophie Scott shook her head, looking wronged yet magnanimous. “I only felt sorry about what happened before and wanted to come see Ms. Davis. I didn’t expect Ms. Davis to be angry because you saved me first. I’m sorry, Ms. Davis. It’s my fault.” Theodore Foster turned to me with a dark expression, his voice ice-cold. “Nancy, how could you hit someone? Do you know Sophie is still pregnant?” I leaned against the head of the bed, the back of my head still throbbing faintly, but I laughed coldly. “How do you know she’s pregnant? Is the child yours?” “You!” Theodore Foster’s face turned blue, then white. His lips moved several times, as if he had been exposed in public. Anger and guilt surged up at the same time, making his expression look utterly ugly. Through gritted teeth, he forced out a few words. “You’re completely unreasonable!” After saying that, he bent down, picked Sophie Scott up in his arms, and stormed out without looking back. The hospital room door slammed shut with a dull bang. I looked at his fleeing back, then at the mess all over the floor. Slowly, I raised my hand and touched my chest. It was already numb there. I could not feel the pain anymore. I wiped the corners of my eyes again. At last, no tears came out. That was fine too. I had given up on Theodore Foster completely. I no longer loved him.

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When my daughter jumped from the eighteenth floor, she was still clutching a silver necklace tightly in her hand. Until her very last breath, she was waiting for her father to save her. But Harvey, the famous, high-profile defense attorney, didn’t fight for her. When she was being assaulted, he declined her FaceTime calls. And when I went to the police, he accused me and our daughter of being dramatic liars. Then, the horrific leaked videos of the assault went viral on TikTok and Snapchat. The cyberbullying pushed her over the edge. She cried and asked me, “Mom, does Dad not love me anymore?” I couldn’t answer her. She didn’t know that her father had checked out of our marriage long ago for a younger woman. But I was done trying to save a toxic marriage. My only goal now was to drag everyone who hurt my baby girl straight to hell. My daughter, Olivia, was in the ER. When the doctor handed me the medical report, his voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper. “She has been severely assaulted. She needs immediate physical and psychiatric care.” In that second, my brain went completely numb. The world around me faded into a dull buzz. In the hospital room, Olivia was curled up in the corner of the bed. She was shivering under the thin blanket. Her exposed wrists and neck were covered in dark purple bruises. Every time a footstep echoed in the hallway, she flinched violently, her eyes filled with pure terror. The rage inside my chest boiled over. I couldn’t take it anymore. I turned and ran out of the hospital. Thirty minutes later, I slammed open the doors of Harvey’s law firm. He was in the middle of a partners’ meeting. Every eye in the conference room locked onto me. Harvey put down his fountain pen, his brows furrowing into a deep, irritated scowl. “Sarah, whatever this is, we’ll talk about it at home.” I ignored the stares of his colleagues and walked straight up to him. “Olivia called you last night. Multiple times.” “Why didn’t you pick up?” The room fell dead silent. Harvey waved his hand, signaling his team to leave the room. The moment the heavy glass door clicked shut, his voice dropped. “Are you seriously doing this right now?” “This is my firm, Sarah. Not a place for you to throw tantrums.” I stared into his cold eyes, speaking through my teeth. “Answer me.” “When Olivia called you last night, screaming for help, why did you decline her call?” Harvey’s remaining patience completely evaporated. “I was working on a multi-million dollar merger.” “You stormed into my office just because of a missed call?” I let out a dry, bitter laugh, my eyes burning with tears. “She was attacked last night, Harvey.” “She called you because she was begging her father to save her.” “Did you even care?” His expression froze for a fraction of a second, but he quickly regained his icy composure. “Did you call the police?” I stared at him, stunned. He continued smoothly, “If a crime was committed, let the police handle it. Coming to my office and screaming at me serves absolutely no purpose.” I grabbed his expensive collar, my tears finally spilling over. “She is your daughter!” “When she was at her absolute worst, you were the first person she thought of!” “And you couldn’t even bother to slide to answer!” Harvey calmly but firmly pushed my hands away, his voice turning freezing cold. “Sarah, pull yourself together.” “Adults solve problems with legal procedures, not emotions.” “Now, stop disrupting my work.” Those cold, clinical words completely extinguished the last spark of hope in my heart. Years ago, to help me win a lawsuit, he had changed his entire career path and went to law school. Back then, he swore he would never let anyone hurt me again. But now, when his own daughter needed his protection, he couldn’t even spare a single word of comfort. Harvey checked his Rolex. “If that’s all, I have a client waiting.” I looked at this man—someone who used to be my husband but now felt like a total stranger. Suddenly, I had nothing left to say. I turned and walked away. … It was evening by the time I got back to the hospital. The second I pushed the door open, Olivia startled awake from her nightmare. She looked at the doorway in absolute horror, her body tense and ready to hide. Only when she realized it was me did she slowly relax. In the next second, she threw herself into my arms, sobbing so hard her entire body shook. “Mom…” “I can’t sleep.” “Every time I close my eyes, I see their faces.” I held her tight, my own tears soaking her hospital gown. “It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s here.” “Nobody is ever going to hurt you again.” But as soon as the words left my mouth, she screamed as if she had been shocked. “No!” “They will!” She scrambled back to the corner of the bed, covering her ears. “They said… they said they wouldn’t let me go…” “There were so many of them…” “Mom, you can’t beat them. They have too much power.” I pulled her back into my arms, gently stroking her back until her shaking slowly subsided. After a long silence, she reached out and took my hand. “Mom.” “Please don’t tell Dad.” I froze. “Why?” She kept her head down, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t want him to think… I’m a bad girl.” Her words felt like a physical knife twisting in my chest. To Olivia, Harvey had always been the perfect, heroic father. She studied day and night, pushing herself to the limit just to get a single nod of approval from him. But even now, when she needed him most, her hero was nowhere to be found. I held her close and didn’t have the heart to tell her that her father had ignored her desperate calls all night. Once Olivia fell back asleep under the sedatives, I quietly left the room and drove to the police station. I didn’t care if Harvey believed us or not. I was going to get justice.

The detective assigned to the case was incredibly sympathetic. “The attacker tried to silence her, and she had to jump from a low balcony to escape them,” he explained. “When our patrol unit found her, she was badly bruised and disoriented.” “But she was clutching this necklace so tightly. She kept repeating that she bought it for her dad.” “She’s such a bright, sweet girl. It’s a tragedy.” “But don’t worry, we are going to do everything we can to put this monster behind bars.” To move the investigation forward, the detective asked me to identify some personal items recovered from the scene. The moment he pulled them out, I lost it. Beneath a pile of torn, stained clothes lay a small, delicate silver necklace. Olivia had worked part-time at a local coffee shop all summer to save up and buy that for Harvey’s birthday last year. But when she proudly presented it to him, he had scoffed, calling it “cheap junk” and telling her she was wasting her time instead of focusing on her SATs. Since that day, Olivia had worked twice as hard, determined to get into his alma mater, Harvard. Two days ago, she received her Harvard acceptance letter. She had been so excited to go to his office to surprise him. Instead, she was dragged into hell. I pressed the cold necklace against my chest. The tears I had been holding back for days finally washed over me. For the next few days, I stayed by her side. With the help of a trauma therapist, she stopped talking about wanting to end her life. She even forced a small smile to comfort me. “Dad is a brilliant lawyer, Mom. I have to be strong. I can’t make him look bad.” But her brilliant lawyer father hadn’t visited her once. Olivia didn’t say it out loud, but I saw the way she stared at the door. I couldn’t stand seeing her heart break. So, I called Harvey repeatedly until he finally agreed to stop by. Knowing he was coming, Olivia specifically wore a long-sleeved shirt to cover her bruises. But we waited from sunrise to sunset. When Harvey finally showed up, he looked completely annoyed. He was on his phone, frowning at me as he walked in. “My firm just took on a massive federal case. Make this quick.” Olivia eagerly reached for her backpack to pull out her Harvard acceptance letter. But before she could, Harvey turned to his young legal assistant, Sienna, who had followed him into the room. “Did we secure the CCTV footage of the street yet?” Harvey asked her. “Time is money. We can’t waste a single second.” The smile on Olivia’s face froze, but she still gathered her courage and spoke up. “Dad… I got into Harvard.” Harvey didn’t even look at her. He just kept discussing his case with Sienna. “Don’t worry about it too much, Sienna. Since the kid is your relative, I’ll handle the defense personally,” Harvey said. “Besides, I absolutely despise those cheap, trashy girls who party hard and then cry foul when things go wrong.” The color completely drained from Olivia’s face. She began desperately rubbing her sleeves over her hidden scars, her forced smile looking more painful than a sob. My chest tightened. Just as I was about to step in and shut him down, there was a knock on the door. Sienna checked her phone, looking frantic. “Harvey, my cousin—the boy I told you about—is outside. He’s terrified.” “He’s just a sweet boy from a small town. He came to the city and got scammed and set up.” “Please come talk to him. He’s so fragile, I’m terrified he might do something reckless to himself…” Hearing this, Harvey immediately turned on his heel, completely ignoring Olivia, and walked out the door. I rushed to Olivia’s side to comfort her, but before I could touch her, she started shaking violently. “Mom…” Olivia’s teeth chattered. “That boy… the one outside with Sienna…” “He was the one who attacked me.” “What?!” I stood up, my blood running hot. But Olivia grabbed my hand with terrifying strength.

Even in the middle of summer, her hands felt like ice. Every word she spoke was laced with a deep, paralyzing dread. “Why is Dad defending a monster like him?” “Does Dad hate me that much? Does he not want me to be his daughter anymore?” “I’m dirty, aren’t I? I disappointed him… Dad doesn’t want me…” “No, baby, no!” I shook my head, desperately trying to pull her out of her panic attack. But she was completely triggered, repeating the same words like a broken record. “Dad doesn’t want me.” “Dad hates me…” I had no choice. I ran out into the hallway to catch Harvey and tell him the sickening truth. But when I explained what Olivia had just said, Harvey snatched his hand away with utter disgust. “Sarah, do you ever think before you lie?” “Olivia is my daughter. In this city, with my reputation, who would dare touch her?” “If she didn’t get the grades she wanted and is throwing a fit, she can just tell me. There is absolutely no need to invent a disgusting lie like this just to get my attention!” I froze, staring at him in utter disbelief. “She is your flesh and blood! You would believe a complete stranger’s sob story over your own daughter?” Harvey sneered. “I am a defense attorney, Sarah. I deal in hard evidence.” “If she can’t produce solid, undeniable proof, then she can stop pretending to be my daughter. I don’t raise liars.” “Dad…” A soft, fragile voice came from behind us. Olivia was standing there, swallowed up by her oversized hospital gown. Her trembling hands were still clutching her Harvard acceptance letter. “I didn’t lie… I really got in…” But before she could finish, Harvey’s phone rang. He looked at the caller ID, and without a second thought, answered it. His voice instantly softened into a gentle tone. “Sienna, hey, calm down. I’m coming right now.” “I’m here. You don’t have to worry about a thing.” The last spark of light in Olivia’s eyes died. The acceptance letter slipped from her fingers, fluttering down to the dirty hospital floor. She looked like an old, broken woman as she slowly turned back, her shoulders slumped, dragging her feet. “I get it now,” she whispered to herself. “Dad just… hates me.” My heart shattered into a million pieces. I lunged at Harvey, grabbing his jacket, screaming at him to go back and apologize to our daughter. But he just looked at me with deep annoyance. “Sarah, cut the drama, will you?” Harvey pulled out his phone and tapped on a video. “I already had my investigator check the security cameras around our house.” “Olivia was inside the house all night. She didn’t even step outside.” “How could she have been attacked if she never left the house?” “I know you hate how close I am with Sienna, but you don’t have to poison our daughter’s mind to frame an innocent kid!” A high-profile lawyer like him knew damn well that digital video could be edited and forged. Yet Harvey, who prided himself on being objective and meticulous, had lost all his brain cells the moment Sienna was involved. I looked at him, feeling a profound, heavy emptiness. “Harvey, when we got married, you swore to me.” “You said no matter what happened, you would always believe me. You said we would face the world together.” “Look at you now. What are you doing?” Harvey laughed, a sound dripping with contempt. “Look at yourself, Sarah. Are you even the same woman I married?” “You spend all day being paranoid and jealous, and now you’ve raised our daughter to be a manipulative liar!” Olivia was a good girl. She was my absolute pride. Years ago, when Harvey first started his firm, his arrogant attitude pissed off some dangerous people, and he was almost blacklisted from the state bar. I was the one who carried Olivia in my arms, knocking on every partner’s door to apologize and beg for him.

Back then, Olivia couldn’t even speak full sentences. But she would look at those powerful men and babble, “Daddy is good. Please don’t hurt Daddy.” Her innocent face had bought Harvey a second chance at his career. And now, when she was the one begging for a lifeline, he was stomping on her hand. “Whatever,” Harvey sighed, looking at my tear-stained face. “I know raising her hasn’t been easy for you.” “Go back and tell Olivia that it’s fine if her grades aren’t perfect, but she needs to keep her morals straight.” “I don’t expect her to take over my firm, but I won’t let her make me the laughingstock of the legal community.” “A top attorney like me cannot have a daughter who lies about being assaulted.” No investigation. No forensic tests. Just because of a few words from Sienna, he had declared his own daughter guilty. Before I could even process the pain, my phone buzzed frantically with a dozen notifications. It was the head nurse from the hospital. “Sarah, you need to get back to the psychiatric ward right now!” “Someone just leaked a highly graphic video of Olivia on Snapchat and TikTok. Olivia saw it and is completely hysterical!” “She’s hurting herself! We can’t hold her down!” My hands shook so violently I could barely hold the phone. The video was slightly pixelated, but anyone who knew Olivia could tell it was her. The comment section was filled with disgusting, vile messages from her classmates: “Omg, isn’t this the quiet girl from AP Lit? She acted so innocent, but look at her go.” “If I were her, I’d literally jump off a bridge. How embarrassing for her parents.” “I have the full unblurred link. $5 on Venmo, DM me.” Every single word felt like a physical blow to my skull. I forwarded the link to Harvey, my fingers trembling on the screen. “Sue the poster! They are destroying Olivia! Do something!” This time, Harvey replied instantly. But it was only two words: “Too busy.” Right. I forgot. Harvey was too busy saving the actual rapist. Why would he care if his daughter lived or died? Tears dripped onto my screen, blurring my vision. I quickly called a few of my old friends from college who worked in PR and media, begging them to help me get the videos taken down. Not even ten minutes later, Harvey called me back, his voice booming with fury. “Sarah! Why are you telling people that Sienna set Olivia up?” “Do you have any idea what kind of damage a smear campaign like that does to a young girl’s career?” “Get over to the office and apologize to Sienna right now. Publicly admit you lied. I will not let you ruin Sienna’s future!” His blind defense of that girl made me lose my mind. I screamed into the phone. “What about Olivia’s future?! What about her life?!” “The boy who did this is Sienna’s cousin! You are defending a monster and gaslighting your own daughter! Are you even human, Harvey?!” Harvey choked on his words for a second. Then, he spat out, “You’re delusional,” and hung up. Back in the room, Olivia was curled under the bed, shaking as she listened to my muffled screams. When I crawled under to hold her, she slowly looked up. “Mom… does Dad really hate me?” I wanted to lie. I wanted to protect her. But the brutal truth was staring us in the face. I couldn’t make excuses for Harvey anymore. The light in Olivia’s eyes completely vanished. For the next week, her mental state deteriorated rapidly. She was terrified of every shadow, staying awake for days. But sometimes, she would hold my hand and whisper, “I’ll stay strong for you, Mom. I’ll live.”

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1 A boiler exploded at our processing plant, burning a fifty year old veteran technician to a crisp. The industrial compensation was set at 1.9 million dollars. The deceased worker’s only daughter rushed from his hometown to claim the money. Her parentage certificate and notarized documents were perfectly in order. The human resources department cleared her in seconds. The owner of the plant personally received her and even offered her a job on the spot. The woman knelt before the memorial altar, sobbing until she fainted. Even when they lifted her up, she was still screaming for her father. But as the man holding the company purse, I refused to stamp the check. Richard, the owner, called me into his office with a dark face. “Mark, is money your enemy? The poor girl is crying her eyes out. Have you no heart?” The grieving daughter stormed in behind him, her eyes red as she slammed her fist onto the desk. “My dad slaved for this plant for thirty years, and now you are holding back his funeral money?” She pulled a thick stack of documents from her pocket and shoved them into my face. “Over two hundred people from our hometown signed this petition. Are you saying I am not his daughter?” I aligned the papers one by one, pushed them back toward her, and looked up. “Are you finished?” I brushed some invisible dust off my sleeve. “If you are finished, get out. I am not signing this check.” The air in the office went dead silent. The woman, who went by the name Brenda, stared at me with bulging eyes. The heavy flesh on her face twitched violently. The grief in her eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a wild, raw aggression. She kicked the swivel chair in front of her. The metal frame crashed onto the linoleum floor with a sharp screech. “You arrogant piece of trash!” Brenda shrieked, pointing a finger at my nose. Her spit flew close to my glasses. “My father was burned to ash by your piece of shit boiler! There was not even enough left for a proper casket! Now I am here to claim his blood money, and you, some low life bean counter, think you can block me?” She leaned over, slamming both hands onto my desk. Her knuckles turned white, her jaw clenched, and bloodshot veins mapped the whites of her eyes. The stench of cheap perfume mixed with stale sweat washed over me as she pressed closer. “Sign it! If you don’t sign this today, I will tear this office apart!” I sat still. I did not even lean back. I looked straight into her bloodshot eyes. “According to Company Financial Regulation Section Eight, any non routine disbursement exceeding five hundred thousand dollars must undergo audit and be confirmed by a third party accident investigation report. Right now, you only have preliminary approval from HR. It is not compliant.” Brenda blinked. She did not understand the jargon, but she understood the refusal. She turned to the door, where Richard was standing. “Richard! Is this how you run your factory? Bullshitting a grieving family? You want me to march out to the main highway with a banner? You want me to call every reporter in the city to film this sweatshop?” Richard’s face turned ash gray. He marched into the office and grabbed her arm. “Brenda, please, calm down. Let’s talk.” He glared at me, his eyes screaming to tear me apart. “Mark, what the hell are you doing? The legal team is out of town, and the third party report will take two weeks. This is an exceptional circumstance! The man’s memorial is almost over, and his ashes are sitting at the mortuary because they can’t pay for the burial! Do you really have to hide behind your damn regulations right now?” I stared at him. “Richard, you signed off on those regulations yourself. If I transfer nearly two million dollars of company funds in violation of protocol and something goes wrong, who takes the fall?” Richard slammed his palm on the desk. “I do! I am telling you to transfer it, so do it! Am I the boss, or are you?” Audrey, the HR manager, squeezed through the door. Clad in professional attire, holding an iced coffee, her face was a mask of irritation. “Mark, you are being ridiculous. I verified every piece of identification. The family registry is real, and the DNA test was issued by St. Jude’s General Hospital. The local council’s document has the mayor’s personal seal. What are you even suspicious of?” She walked over to Brenda, playing the comforting sister. “Brenda, don’t worry. Our finance head is just going through a mid life crisis. He likes to overcomplicate things.” Brenda took the cue, collapsing onto the couch. She pounded her chest, wailing loudly. “Oh, Dad! You died so terribly! Look at what they are doing to your daughter! They won’t even give me the money to bury you!” Her dry wails echoed down the corridor. No tears, just raw screeching. Employees began gathering outside the door, whispering. Richard was sweating. The factory was already under strict environmental and safety scrutiny. The boiler explosion was a scandal they were desperately trying to bury. If she made a scene, a temporary shutdown would cost hundreds of thousands a day. He pointed a trembling finger at me. “Mark, I am asking you one last time. Are you signing or not?” I took the security token from my drawer and held it tight. “Like I said, the paperwork is incomplete. No signature. And because someone is causing a disturbance in a secure financial area,” I picked up the landline, “I have called the police.” Brenda’s fake crying cut off instantly. Richard and Audrey froze. “You called the cops?” Richard’s voice cracked. He lunged to grab the receiver, but I had already hung up. “The dispatch center took the call three minutes ago. Officers should be here in five.” Brenda bounced off the sofa. Her eyes flared with a strange, manic excitement. “Fine! Let them come! Let’s see who is in the wrong!” She pulled a smartphone from her worn jacket and opened a live streaming app. “I want the whole world to see this blood sucking factory!” She pointed the camera at herself, messing up her hair and squeezing a few forced tears. “Guys, look at this! My father worked here for thirty years, got blown up by their boiler, and now this bean counter won’t release his insurance money! Even the owner agreed, but this guy is holding it back! He even called the cops on me!” She shoved the lens right in my face, almost touching my nose. “Remember this face, everyone! He is trying to steal my dead father’s money!” The viewer count began to climb rapidly. Brenda hurled insults, accusing me of wanting a kickback or being a psychopath. Whispers outside grew louder. A few sales reps who hated my strict policies chimed in. “Mark is going too far this time.” “A man died. Why hold up the process over paperwork?” “Heartless.” Richard panicked. He could not let this go viral. He blocked the camera, smiling nervously at Brenda. “Brenda, turn it off. We’ll settle this internally!” She shoved him away. “Settle my ass! Unless that money hits my card right now in front of everyone, I’m not stopping!” Richard stumbled, then glared at me. “Mark! Do you want to destroy my company? Insert the security token and transfer the funds now!” I kept the token in my hand. “The daily corporate limit is five hundred thousand. A transfer of 1.9 million takes four days, or a special bank clearance. I can’t do it right now.” Brenda went wild. Believing she was being played, she lunged like an angry bull, grabbed my ceramic mug, and smashed it on the floor. A shard sliced my ankle, drawing blood. “I will kill you, you worthless bastard!” She swung her palm at my face. Audrey shrieked weakly without trying to stop her. Richard watched coldly, hoping she would beat me into submission. I did not move. I stared at her contorted face. Just as her hand was inches away, a voice boomed from the door. “Stop!” The door swung wide. Three uniformed officers stepped in. Leading them was a tall detective with sharp, hawkish eyes. Brenda’s hand froze. She instantly threw herself to the floor, rolling and clutching her chest. “Help, officer! This factory is trying to murder a grieving family!” The lead detective walked over, cast a cold glance at Brenda, then looked at me. “Who called?” “I did,” I said, stepping back and brushing the ceramic shards from my trousers. The detective turned on her body cam. “Detective Valerie Morgan, Metro Police. We received a call about a disturbance. What is going on here?” Brenda crawled over and grabbed Morgan’s leg, weeping and repeating her dramatic story, emphasizing my heartless greed. Morgan frowned, pulled her leg free, and turned to Richard. “Are you the owner? Is what she is saying true?” Richard wiped his brow. “Detective, it’s just an internal issue. The accident was real, the settlement is agreed upon. We have all the paperwork.” He handed over the thick folder. “Her ID, family registry, death certificate, cremation permit, and a DNA test from St. Jude’s General Hospital. Everything is legal.” Morgan opened the folder and flipped through. The seals were clear, the fonts perfect. She pulled out her police terminal and scanned the DNA report’s barcode. The terminal emitted a soft chime. A green light flashed, showing the report was genuine and logged in the state database. She ran Brenda’s ID. The system confirmed her identity and listed her as the deceased’s sole surviving relative. It was flawless. A wall of objective facts. Morgan closed the folder and looked at me. “Mr. Graham, as a financial officer, diligence is your duty. But all legal documents are present, and the company owner has authorized the payment. What is your reason for withholding it?” All eyes locked onto me. Brenda sneered from the floor. Audrey chimed in, “Detective, our finance director just likes to play God. He’s probably trying to flex his power.” I stood behind my desk. Alone against everyone. I looked into Detective Morgan’s cold, pressuring eyes. “Detective Morgan, as a financial director with fifteen years of experience, I am personally liable for every cent that leaves this company. These documents are physically perfect. But I cannot sign.” “Your reason?” I took a breath. “I have no written proof yet. But I believe this woman’s identity is a lie.” The room erupted. Brenda shrieked, “You liar! The police database verified it! Who the hell do you think you are?” Morgan’s face hardened. Her gaze turned into a warning. “Mr. Graham, we operate on evidence. If you are acting on a whim or deliberately obstructing business, you are committing a crime. This is unreasonable.” “I am not being unreasonable,” I said, gripping the security token. Richard lost his mind. “Detective, he is insane! As the owner, I am firing him right now!” He turned to Audrey. “Get the backup laptop! We don’t need him to do this!” Audrey ran out and brought back a laptop. Richard charged at me. “Hand over the token! It’s company property! You’re fired, hand it over!” I stepped back, opened the safe behind me, tossed the token inside, and slammed the door. My fingers flew over the keypad, entering the wrong code deliberately. A electronic beep sounded, followed by a cold mechanical voice: “Incorrect password. Account locked for thirty minutes.” The room fell silent. Richard’s face turned purple. “Mark! I’ll kill you!” Brenda grabbed a folding chair and lunged. “You bastard! I’ll break your head!” The two officers pinned her to the wall. She thrashed like a rabid animal. Morgan stepped between us, staring at me with anger and confusion. “Mark Graham! Do you know what you just did? You maliciously locked a corporate account. This is no longer a labor dispute.” She unclipped her handcuffs. “I am placing you under arrest for obstruction of justice and disorderly conduct. Let’s go.” She grabbed my wrist. Cheering erupted from the hallway. Audrey smirked. Richard breathed a sigh of relief. Brenda laughed wildly against the wall. The cold steel touched my skin. I did not struggle. “Detective Morgan,” I said, meeting her gaze. “If you’re going to arrest me, at least let me finish.” I turned to Brenda. “You claim to be Thomas’s only daughter, correct?” Brenda spat. “Damn right! The papers prove it!” I nodded, my voice dropping to a calm, icy whisper. “But three years ago, during the summer…” “His real daughter drowned in the Blackwood River while trying to save a little boy.” The air in the room froze instantly.

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