Category: English

1 Delivery room, 1:15 AM. I’ve just been born. In a little while, a nurse named Brenda Wallace will come in, steal me, and swap me with another family’s baby. Last time, she succeeded. I spent twenty years suffering in a cramped apartment. After I discovered the truth and came back to reclaim my family, the impostor served me a cup of poisoned tea and sent me right back to the Underworld. This time is different. I worked in the Underworld for ten years, saving up enough merit points to buy this one chance to do it all over again. I stared at the clock on the wall, calculating silently. One hour and forty-five minutes until Brenda makes her move. … In one hour and forty-five minutes, Nurse Brenda Wallace will push open this door. She’ll say she’s taking the baby for a newborn screening. My mother, exhausted from labor, won’t suspect a thing. Brenda will then carry me to the supply closet at the end of the hall. Her cousin, Megan Fischer, will be waiting there, holding another newborn baby girl. Two wristbands, a quick swap. Three minutes. Sophie Summer becomes Sophie Fischer. Jessica Fischer becomes Jessica Summer. That’s how they stole twenty years of my life. But right now, I’m just a newborn. I can’t talk, can’t roll over, can’t even hold up my own head. There are only three things I can do: cry, grab, and stay awake. But that’s enough. Ten years in the Underworld taught me one thing very clearly: a mother’s intuition about her child is the most sensitive alarm system in the world. I just need to activate it. My mother held me for a while, her eyelids drooping. My father whispered beside her, “Honey, you sleep first. I’ll watch her.” No. Last time, my father couldn’t stay awake and went to lie on the sofa for a bit. That’s when Brenda found her opportunity. I don’t need my father to watch me. I need my mother to hold me, pressed tightly against her, so no one can separate us. Just as my mother was about to put me back in the bassinet… “Waaaahhh!” I let out an ear-splitting scream. Not a normal cry, but a gut-wrenching shriek. My mother flinched and quickly pulled me back into her arms. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Don’t cry, don’t cry…” The moment she held me close, I went silent. My big eyes were filled with tears, and one tiny hand was clenched tightly around the collar of her hospital gown. My mother paused. “Look how tight she’s holding on. It’s like she’s afraid I’ll put her down.” My father reached out to take me. “WAAAAAHHH!” Louder this time, and sharper. He snatched his hand back, startled. I snuggled back into my mother’s arms, instantly quiet, still clutching her gown. My father didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “She’s only two hours old and already a mama’s girl?” Tears welled in my mother’s eyes. “It’s like she only wants me.” She tightened her arms, holding me firmly against her chest. “Then I won’t put her down. I’ll sleep with her in my arms tonight.” The minutes ticked by. At 2:00 AM, my father was snoring on the sofa. My mother was getting drowsy too, but I made sure to let out a little whimper every ten minutes, just enough to keep her in a state of half-sleep. 2:30 AM. 2:40 AM. 2:50 AM. My heart started to beat faster. 2:55 AM. Faint footsteps echoed from the end of the hall. The rubber-soled nurse’s shoes made almost no sound on the linoleum. But I heard them. The footsteps stopped outside our door. The doorknob turned slowly. A woman in a white coat pushed the door open. She was in her mid-thirties, with an average build and a standard professional smile. She was pushing a baby transport cart. Brenda Wallace. I’ve waited ten years for you. She lowered her voice. “Mrs. Summer, sorry to disturb you. It’s time for the baby’s newborn metabolic screening. We just need to draw a little blood from her heel. We’ll have her back in a minute.” My mother opened her eyes blearily. “A screening? Now?” “It’s usually done between two and four hours after birth. It’s easier while the baby is calm.” Her words were smooth, her tone gentle and professional. That’s how she had fooled my mother last time. My mother’s grip started to loosen. Now. “WAAAAAHHHHH!” My explosive cry ripped through the quiet room. I cried, kicked, shook my head, my whole body trembling. I curled into a tight ball, clinging to my mother’s chest. All ten of my tiny fingers dug into the fabric of her gown, as if they were welded there. My mother was startled and instinctively pulled me closer. “What is it, sweetheart?” My father shot up from the sofa. “What’s going on?” Brenda’s smile faltered for a second before she regained her composure. “Mr. Summer, it’s just a routine screening. The baby was probably just startled by our voices.” My father looked at me, wailing my heart out, then back at Brenda. “Does this screening have to be done right now?” “It’s hospital policy…” “My daughter doesn’t seem well. Can we do it tomorrow during the day?” Brenda’s mouth twitched. “And,” my father added, walking to the door and glancing down the hall, “I don’t think you’re the nurse on duty for this floor tonight.” The air froze for two seconds. “I… I’m covering for a colleague. She had an emergency.” My father said nothing, but his expression hardened. “Then please have the head nurse arrange it for tomorrow. Tonight is not convenient.” Brenda opened her mouth, as if to say more, but my father had already sat down next to my mother, one hand on her shoulder, the other patting my back. The message was clear. You can go. Brenda’s eyes lingered on me for a few seconds. Through my tear-blurred vision, I saw the coldness in her gaze. Then she turned and pushed the empty cart out of the room. I quieted down, snuggling into my mother’s warm embrace. She gently patted me, humming a tuneless lullaby. My father didn’t go back to the sofa. He stayed right there, sitting by the bed, watching us. 2 The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains. I had slept in my mother’s arms, though I hadn’t really closed my eyes all night. I acted like a perfectly well-behaved, angelic baby. The first thing my mother did when she woke up was look down at me. She found me looking right back at her. “Honey, look! She’s been watching me,” she said, delighted. My father leaned in, about to touch me. I immediately scrunched up my face, my lip quivering, my eyes turning red. His hand froze mid-air, and he sheepishly pulled it back. “Okay, okay, Daddy won’t touch. Daddy’s just looking.” My mother couldn’t help but laugh. “This little girl is my shadow. She won’t let anyone else near.” Exactly. I needed everyone to know: this baby only wants her mother. No one was taking me from her arms. During the morning rounds, the attending physician came in with a team. They gave me a full check-up and confirmed all my vitals were healthy. The newborn screening was also scheduled. It was done during the day, by the book, with the head nurse performing the procedure herself. My father watched the entire time, never leaving my side. I noticed his expression was different from the night before. Last night, it was instinctual caution. Today, it was conscious observation. After the doctors left, he said he was going to get breakfast and made a call in the hallway. His voice was low, but nestled in my mother’s arms, I could hear every word. “I need you to look into someone for me. Brenda Wallace, a nurse at this hospital. And pull the security footage from the third-floor maternity ward hallway from last night.” Good. My father wasn’t a fool. The founder of a security tech company, he had a natural sense for these things. He was already on it. At two in the afternoon, we had an unexpected visitor. A woman in her early thirties, wearing a simple floral-print hospital gown, with a round, friendly face. She peeked her head in and knocked softly on the doorframe. “Hi, Mrs. Summer. I’m Megan, from room 206 next door. I just had a baby girl yesterday too.” She smiled warmly. “Born on the same day, it must be fate. I thought I’d pop in and say hello.” My mother, still weak from childbirth, was happy for the company. “Please, come in!” Megan Fischer. Brenda Wallace’s cousin. The biological mother of the impostor, Jessica Fischer. Last time, she was the one who slipped her daughter into the Summer family and stole my life. Now, she walked in, her eyes scanning the room and landing on me with a flicker of something I couldn’t quite place. “Oh, your daughter is so beautiful and well-behaved. Can I hold her?” She reached out her hands. The hair on my arms stood on end. I let out a piercing cry, my face turning red, my limbs flailing wildly. My mother quickly pulled me back. “Oh, I’m so sorry. She’s very shy around strangers. She cries if anyone but me holds her.” Megan awkwardly withdrew her hands. “Oh, it’s okay, it’s okay. That’s normal for babies.” She didn’t insist, and instead started chatting with my mother about parenting. They talked about formula, diapers, and postpartum meals. As she talked, she subtly inched closer to my mother. Every time she got within three feet of the bassinet, I would start to whimper. When she backed away, I’d go quiet. After the third time, my mother noticed too. She didn’t say anything, but she unconsciously held me a little tighter. Megan stayed for about half an hour. As she was leaving, she said, “If you ever get tired, just call me. I can watch the baby for a bit. I’m right next door.” My mother politely agreed. But after the door closed, she looked down at me thoughtfully. “Sweetheart, do you not like that lady?” I nuzzled her hand and blinked quietly. My mother smiled, but there was a new seriousness in her eyes. “Okay, Mommy hears you. We’ll keep her away from you from now on.” That evening, my father returned. His expression was grim. He closed the door tightly and spoke to my mother in a low voice. “I had someone look into that nurse from last night, Brenda Wallace. She was only hired three months ago. Her resume, her education, her work experience—all fake.” My mother’s eyes widened. “What does that mean?” “And the security footage from the hallway last night—the cameras were malfunctioning during that exact time. Nothing was recorded.” “I’ve been in the security business for twenty years. I’ve never seen a malfunction that convenient.” The color drained from my mother’s face. She instinctively clutched me tighter, her voice trembling. “Are you saying… that person last night wasn’t here to do a screening?” My father didn’t answer directly. He sat on the edge of the bed, taking my mother’s hand in one of his and gently stroking my head with the other. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve already had my assistant file a police report and have the hospital upgrade its security.” “From now on, when I’m not here, no one—and I mean no one—is to touch Sophie.” My mother nodded vigorously. I closed my eyes and pressed my face against her chest. My father was already in motion. Twenty years earlier than last time. And all I had to do was continue being the perfect, mama’s-girl angel. 3 The day we were discharged, my father brought four bodyguards to pick us up. Two vans, a seamless transition. During the twenty-minute drive from the hospital to the Summer mansion, my mother held me without letting go for a second. My father sat in the front passenger seat, making one call after another. “Upgrade the entire home security system. I want zero blind spots.” “Install a smart alarm in the nursery. Real-time notifications to my phone anytime someone enters or leaves.” “Yes, re-screen all the nannies. Full background checks, including relatives three generations back.” I nestled in my mother’s arms, listening to his commands, feeling a deep sense of security. Last time, I was stolen because the Summers, despite their wealth, were too complacent about security. The idea of a baby swap was something they had never even considered. This time was different. My father was already in battle mode. Arriving at the Summer mansion, I entered this home as its rightful heir for the first time. Last time, I was twenty when I first walked through these doors. I was wearing a cheap dress, clutching a crumpled DNA test, shaking from head to toe. The security guard at the gate stopped me three times. “Who are you looking for? You don’t belong here.” Now, the butler respectfully opened the car door. The nanny rolled out a red carpet. My grandfather stood at the entrance, his face a web of smiling wrinkles. “My granddaughter is home! Let Grandpa have a look!” He reached out to hold me. As usual, I scrunched up my face. But this time, I managed not to cry. After all, my grandfather had been very good to me last time. After I was reunited with the family, he was the first one who wanted to give me a share of his inheritance. I just turned my head slightly and buried my face in my mother’s neck. My grandfather wasn’t offended at all. He just chuckled. “This little girl is just like her mother. Once she’s set on someone, you can’t pull her away. Good! She’s got character!” My grandmother stood behind him. She was wearing a dark red traditional dress, a polite smile on her face. But I noticed the way she looked at me was completely different from the way she looked at my grandfather. When she looked at him, her eyes were filled with attentiveness and deference. When she looked at me, there was only scrutiny. “Oh, she’s such a lovely baby. Just like her mother,” she said, reaching out to touch my cheek. I started crying without hesitation. A soft, pitiful whimper. Her hand froze. My mother quickly soothed me. “It’s okay, sweetheart, don’t be scared. It’s just Grandma.” My grandfather smoothed things over. “Haha, she’s just shy. She’ll get used to us in a couple of days.” My grandmother withdrew her hand, her smile unchanged, but a flicker of coldness crossed her eyes. That expression. I knew it so well. Last time, after I came back to the family, my grandmother had looked at me with that same expression. Polite, but with a deep-seated distance. I later learned that she had been against my father marrying my mother from the start. She thought my mother’s background wasn’t good enough for the Summer family. She had always wanted my uncle, Robert Summer, and his family to take over. Because my uncle’s wife was her niece. In other words, my uncle’s family were her people. The days after moving into the Summer mansion were quiet on the surface. For the first month, I maintained my “only-mommy” persona. Wherever my mother went, I was quiet. The moment she was out of my sight, I’d start to cry. This meant she barely left my side, and it also meant no one—not the nannies, not the butler, not even my grandmother—had a chance to be alone with me. My father’s investigation was also moving forward. He had someone pull Brenda Wallace’s phone records. There was one number she contacted frequently. The calls were short but regular. It was an unregistered burner phone. But through cell tower triangulation, they found that 70% of the time, the phone was used near the Summer mansion. My father’s face was grim as he spoke to his assistant in the study, his voice low. “So the person who hired Brenda is inside the Summer family.” An inside job. I already knew. But I couldn’t speak yet. I couldn’t tell my father who it was. All I could do was wait. Wait for him to find out himself. Or wait for the mole to slip up. As it turned out, I didn’t have to wait long. Two days before my one-month celebration, at eleven at night. My mother was fast asleep, and my father was in his study working. The nanny was off duty. I was alone in the nursery. It was quiet. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting pale patches of light on the ceiling. I lay with my eyes open, counting my breaths. One, two, three. Click. The sound of the doorknob turning. Someone pushed the nursery door open. The footsteps were light, deliberately so. A dark figure approached my crib. I couldn’t see her face, but I recognized the scent. It was Mrs. Davis, my grandmother’s housekeeper of over twenty years. She bent down and reached into the crib to pick me up. The moment her hand touched my blanket… “WAAAAAHHHHH!” I let out the loudest cry of my life. At the same second, the nursery’s smart alarm system was triggered. A piercing siren blared through the entire mansion. A notification popped up on my father’s phone. Mrs. Davis’s face, flickering in the red alarm light, was deathly pale. Less than twenty seconds later, my father burst into the room, my mother right behind him. “Mrs. Davis? What are you doing?!” She was trembling, her hand still frozen in mid-air. “I… I heard the baby crying, so I came to check…” My father pulled out his phone and played back the nursery’s security footage. The video was clear: Mrs. Davis entering the room, walking straight to the crib, bending down, and reaching in. It didn’t look like she was just checking. It looked like she was taking. “The truth,” my father’s voice was as sharp as a knife. “Who sent you?”

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Ten years ago, in the Great Explosion, my father sacrificed himself in the blaze, saving the entire city. Citizens forged a golden medal for him and voluntarily donated money to support my education. But my mother immediately used all of it for plastic surgery, marrying the richest man and becoming a high-society wife. To curry favor with my stepbrother, she even poured the remaining money into his gaming account. And I became the lowest servant in the household, part of her dowry, allowing myself to be beaten, cursed, and bullied with my mother’s tacit approval. In my senior year of high school, my stepbrother intentionally set fire to the school, causing the immediate death of twenty-three students who had already secured early university admissions. To protect him, my stepfather forced me to take the blame. He threw the confession at my face, disdainfully saying: “Little bastard, I’ve raised you for years; it’s time to collect some interest. The Blackwood family’s food isn’t free. You have no choice. Even if you don’t sign, I have plenty of ways to dump all the blame on you.” I bit my lip fiercely, looking at my mother, who had just returned from a cosmetic procedure. She hid her new alligator-skin bag, timidly saying. “Your father is right. Everyone else is dead. You were the twenty-fourth on the list who missed out on early admission. Even if you don’t sign, everyone will believe you set the fire.” I laughed through my tears. My father was a fire hero, but now, they were making me personally tarnish his name. … My stepfather noticed the defiance in my eyes and slapped me, sending me sprawling. “You brat, you dare glare at me? A few days without a beating and your skin’s itching, huh?” “If I hadn’t agreed to let a bastard like you into my home back then, you’d have starved to death! It’s your good fortune to take the blame for Jerry! Don’t be ungrateful!” My ears rang, and my head swam. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth, splattering onto the confession papers. I wiped away my tears, grabbed the scattered pages, and tore them to shreds. My stepfather’s face flushed crimson above the neck. He grabbed the mop from the doorway, ready to strike me. “You little rascal, you’ve gone rogue!” My mother, Clarice, who had been silent, suddenly threw herself onto my back, shielding me tightly beneath her. My whole body trembled. Over the years, I had almost forgotten what it felt like to be protected by my mother. My stepfather and Jerry Blackwood had short tempers. They would often take their anger out on me when displeased; beatings and curses were commonplace. At first, Clarice would stand by, weeping incessantly. Later, she tried to persuade me to endure it, saying the pain would pass. Eventually, whenever I was hit, she would hide in her bedroom. This was the first time she had protected me. A bitter ache welled up, but the very next second, her words dragged me back to reality. “Elara, Mommy is begging you, please sign it. For Mommy’s sake, okay?” For her? The year Dad died, Clarice immediately used all the survivor’s benefits and donations for plastic surgery and luxury bags. Yet that year, I couldn’t even pay the thirty dollars for my textbooks. When had she ever cared about me? Just then, her precarious alligator-skin bag finally fell from the table. A stack of confessions, too many for me to tear, spilled out. I suppressed the tears that threatened to overflow again and broke free from Clarice’s embrace. “You want to force me to sign too? You want to ruin my entire life?” “My grades are enough to get into the top universities. That’s not just my dream; it was Dad’s lifelong aspiration.” Clarice lowered her head, avoiding my gaze, her voice as thin as a mosquito’s buzz. “Elara, what’s the use of a girl going to school? Don’t they all end up marrying anyway? It’s all the same. Just think of prison as going to school. When you get out, Mommy will definitely arrange a good match for you.” I swallowed the metallic taste of blood welling up, choked out: “Selling yourself wasn’t enough, you want to sell me again?” “Am I really your biological child? A birth mother forcing her daughter to take the fall for her murderous stepson—how absurd.” Hearing this, my stepfather, who had been pacing with the broom, turned deathly pale. Clarice quickly slapped my mouth, all gentleness gone from her face. “That’s your brother! He’s the future heir of the Blackwood family! How can you tarnish his reputation?” “The money you eat and use is Jerry’s future inheritance! You owe him all of this; you could be his slave for life and still never repay him!” Hearing those words, I laughed aloud. At the Blackwood mansion, I barely ate and had worn-out clothes during the day, sleeping in the basement at night. I never received a single cent. They ordered me to do this and that, eventually even firing the housekeeper and dumping all the chores on me. I wasn’t spending their money. I was spending the wages I earned as a servant! I threw away the pen and the new confession Clarice offered, stubbornly stating: “I don’t owe any of you anything!” “My father was a fire hero. I will never take the blame and tarnish his name!” My stepfather instantly erupted in fury. Clarice immediately cowered to the side. The broom repeatedly swung at me, causing me agonizing pain. My stepfather still felt it wasn’t enough and then pulled out his belt, savagely lashing me. Soon, new wounds mixed with old, leaving me barely clinging to life. Just then, the butler knocked on the villa’s grand hall door from outside. “Mr. Blackwood, a group of reporters has arrived, and they’re live-streaming!” My stepfather smiled, telling the butler to quickly invite the reporters in, his whipping arm not pausing for a second. The arriving reporters were all astonished by the horrific scene in the living room. Many looked at me with sympathy. The lead reporter made a move to help me up. “Mr. Blackwood, we’re here today to interview Elara, the twenty-fourth person who wasn’t caught in the fire. What happened to make you lay such a heavy hand on a child?” I widened my swollen eyelids, recognizing him as Reporter Davis, who had previously covered my father’s story. Just as I was about to cry for help, my stepfather sighed deeply, covering his face in sorrow: “Her mother and I personally heard her admit that she set the school fire. She said if the top twenty-three early admits all died, then she would be the one going to the top universities! We urged her to turn herself in, but she refused, even if it meant death.” “I am only her stepfather, and technically, I have no right to discipline her. But what she did is truly outrageous, twenty-three innocent lives! Even if I’m cursed for it, today I must discipline her properly for her heroic father!” Reporter Davis immediately let go of my hand, allowing me to collapse back onto the floor. He disgustedly wiped the bloodstained tissues repeatedly, angrily cursing: “Your biological father was a hero who saved the entire city, but you committed arson and harmed others! You are an absolute disgrace to him!” “Many kind-hearted people donated money back then, fearing you wouldn’t live well. What a waste of good intentions, feeding it to a dog!” “How could Captain Reed give birth to such a heartless beast like you!” No investigation, no evidence. They convicted me based on mere words. Reporter Davis glanced at the scrolling comments, then gave my stepfather a secret nod of affirmation before turning his camera to Clarice. Clarice opened her mouth, instantly bursting into tears. She fiercely slapped herself. “It’s all my fault. I didn’t discipline her well enough. She’s always been jealous since she was little. If only I had guided and educated her properly, those twenty-three children wouldn’t have died.” “She kept saying that no one would suspect her of arson because of her status as a martyr’s child. But Elara, heaven sees what people do!” With that, she made to kneel before me. “Mommy kneels and begs you, turn yourself in!” Reporter Davis quickly shoved the camera into my face. The scrolling comments clearly slammed into my eyes. “Why weren’t you the one who died back then! Murderer, go to hell!” “You, wanting to go to the top universities? Go to hell!” “Could it be that your dad set that fire back then!” … Filthy words turned into sharp knives, slowly torturing me. Dad sacrificed his life for a greater cause; I couldn’t let him be disgraced because of me. My lips trembled. I stared unblinkingly at the camera. “It wasn’t me! The one who set the fire was…” Before I could finish, my stepfather lashed my mouth with a whip. “Still not confessing!” He turned, feigning disappointment, “She locked her room tightly, not letting us in to find evidence. Even if I beat her to death, I couldn’t get justice for the unjustly dead children!” Reporter Davis then suggested breaking into my bedroom under the camera’s supervision to search. My stepfather and Clarice unhesitatingly took the reporters upstairs. It was then I realized my room had been moved from the basement to Jerry Blackwood’s former room, which had the best lighting. Soon after, my stepfather came downstairs, clutching a diary. He slammed it in front of me. It was filled with “Top Universities” and “Hate,” written in my handwriting. All the surrounding reporters instantly grew excited, each wishing they could shove me directly into the camera. “You envied and hated the twenty-three students who received early admissions to the top universities, so you deliberately lured them into the activity room and set it on fire. So young, yet so ruthless!” “Quickly sign the confession and come with us to turn yourself in!” “Confess!” “Go to hell!” “Beat her to death!” scrolled rapidly across the comments section. The cries grew louder and louder. My stepfather’s eyes darted, signaling the reporters to turn off the live stream. Unrestrained by the cameras, my stepfather grabbed my head and violently smashed it against the floor. “Little bastard, still not signing?” I shook my throbbing head and spat a mouthful of blood at him. “Pah, I… will never confess.” My stepfather, his face covered in blood, grinned sinisterly. “Now I am disciplining you at the urging of the vast netizens. I’d like to see how long your stubborn bones can last!” With that, he grabbed a stick, aiming to smash my leg. A shriek came from outside the door. “The murderer isn’t Elara, stop!” My stepfather’s face changed. The next second, the class president, Fiona, rushed in from the doorway towards my bruised and battered body, but she was immediately restrained by the Blackwood family’s butler and bodyguards. She was on the verge of tears, gasping as she shouted to the reporter holding the camera: “I’m Elara’s class president! I know her; she would never commit arson!” A warm current continually surged through my heart. She had been my classmate for over ten years, and my best friend. In the ten years since Dad passed, she had always protected me and helped me. Now, everyone had branded me a murderer, but only she still stood firmly by my side. Fiona struggled and shouted repeatedly. My stepfather’s eyes flashed with ruthlessness, and he signaled the butler to release her. Just as Fiona was about to rush to me, my stepfather lifted his foot and fiercely kicked her away. He then, gripping the stick like a demon, walked towards Fiona, who lay clutching her abdomen. “Class president, my ass? A cleaner’s daughter, daring to meddle in my Blackwood family’s affairs? Getting a beating for trespassing is perfectly reasonable, isn’t it?” Realizing what he was about to do, I nearly collapsed, roaring, “Don’t mind me, run!” Seeing the stick about to fall on Fiona, I desperately grabbed a nearby vase and threw it at my stepfather. Clarice suddenly shrieked. My stepfather turned, smashing the airborne vase with one swing. His face was livid. He raised the stick high above his head and brought it down forcefully on my right leg. The sound of bones shattering echoed, and I cried out in excruciating pain. Clarice stumbled, crying, to my side, but her words chilled me to the bone. “Elara, stop being so stubborn, just confess. Do you have to harm yourself and drag others down too? Mommy is begging you!” My whole body trembled uncontrollably from the pain, tears and blood mixing to cover my face. I gritted my teeth: “No, I am not a murderer! My father was a hero; I am not his disgrace!” Clarice still wanted to persuade me. Just then, Fiona, lying on the ground, cursed furiously: “Elara is not a murderer! You all are! If it weren’t for Uncle Reed back then, the entire city would have died. You show no gratitude, instead, you use a fake diary to force Elara to confess to an enormous crime, you ungrateful wretches!” She turned to Clarice. “You cherish someone else’s son like gold, but treat your own daughter like a servant. You dare call yourself a mother? Bah, disgusting!” Clarice’s eyes glazed over, frozen in place. Suddenly, Fiona turned and, pushing herself up, rushed towards Reporter Davis’s camera. “You’ve all been deceived! I am reporting, under my real name, that the one truly resentful about early university admission was their son, Jerry Blackwood!” A hush fell over the scene. The next second, my stepfather walked up to her, holding his stick and laughing loudly. “You filthy bitch, you don’t know, do you? These reporters are all mine! The live stream was shut down the moment you walked in!” “Dare to expose my son? You really have a death wish. What should I do with you?” I immediately sensed danger and cried out, “What are you doing? Stay away from her!” “Fiona, run!” Fiona’s face was pale, but she bravely comforted me. “Elara, don’t be afraid. This is a society governed by law; they wouldn’t dare to casually kill anyone! Besides, my life was saved by Uncle Reed. Even if I die today, it’s worth it!” I shook my head in terror. My stepfather reached out and touched her face. “I wouldn’t dare to casually kill anyone, but I can find dozens of men to keep you company.” He turned, his gaze venomous, to me. “Still not signing, Elara? Or do you want to personally see how many men your good class president can endure?” Despair enveloped me, pulling me into an abyss. “I…” Before I could utter the word “sign,” a familiar voice came from outside the door.

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After the State Compatibility Program assigned me a pair of Feline sisters as mates, I started preparing two glasses of milk every night. Celeste, the older sister, was cool and distant, but she would always accept her glass with a polite, quiet “thank you.” Rhea, the younger one, had a temper like a storm. She usually smashed the glass and spat insults at me. I prided myself on treating them both with perfect fairness, on maintaining an impeccable balance. Until my friend Mark saw it one day. He hesitated, then finally said it. “Don’t you think that kind of ‘fairness’ is actually unfair to the one who’s nicer to you?” I thought about it all day. He was right. That evening, when I came out of the kitchen, I was only holding one glass of milk. 1. Celeste was the first to notice the change. She didn’t say anything, just took the glass as she always did and thanked me. Rhea was sprawled on the other side of the couch, bored, tapping at her game console. It wasn’t until I stood up, said goodnight, and started for my bedroom that the subtle difference finally registered. “Hey, are we out of milk? Or are you too broke to afford two glasses now?” Compared to Celeste’s quiet detachment, Rhea was a feral kitten: explosive, defiant, and sharp-clawed. She set down her console, her eyes hostile. Her words were as barbed as ever. “Donate your eyes if you’re not using them. Can’t you see I’m here too?” She never spoke to me without a fight. Any desire I had to explain myself evaporated. My smile faded as I gave a short reply. “No.” “No? Then who are you trying to piss off by only bringing out one glass?” Piss off? My mind flashed back to a few nights ago. Celeste and Rhea had been called out on an emergency mission for the Agency. They didn’t get back until almost one in the morning. I’d waited up for so long that I’d fallen asleep on the couch, only to be woken by the sound of the door. I shot up, rushing to heat the dinner I’d saved for them. Just like always, I had two glasses of milk ready. Rhea’s eyes were shadowed with exhaustion. I spotted a gash on her shoulder and moved closer to ask about it, but she shoved me away impatiently. The strength of a Feline is no small thing. The push sent me stumbling back, and the glass of milk went with me, shattering on the floor. Rhea froze for a second, but the irritation quickly returned to her face. “Shit, are you blind? Can’t you see I’m texting? Always trying to cling to me. Serves you right.” Her voice dripped with scorn. “I could handle your pathetic fawning before, but I’m dead tired tonight. The second I get home, you’re in my face like a damned lapdog.” So that’s what my waiting and worrying looked like to her. Pathetic fawning. The disgust in her voice was a physical blow. A hot wave of shame washed over me. My face burned, and without looking up, I stumbled back to my room. From the living room, I heard a sharp slap. It was Celeste hitting Rhea. A few moments later, Celeste came in with a first-aid kit and knelt in front of me. Only then did I realize a shard of glass had sliced open my shin. Blood was already trickling down to my ankle. 2. I always knew the sisters resented me. By anyone’s standards, I was punching far above my weight. They were the prodigies of the Feline Academy, top-tier in both looks and ability. They were proud, dazzling, and worshipped by everyone. And I was… bland. Average. A common weed on the side of the road. If it weren’t for our ridiculously high compatibility scores, the State Program never would have paired us. Our paths never would have crossed. At first, I was ecstatic. Growing up in a group home, all I ever wanted was a family. I naively believed that Celeste and Rhea were the family the universe had finally given me. So no matter how cruel their attitude or how dismissive their words, I acted like I didn’t feel it, continuing to offer them my warmth and affection. Every time I saw them eat the food I’d prepared, I felt a deep sense of satisfaction. It was as if I was needed. In this world, you need connections. Celeste and Rhea were my connection to everything. The first six months were hell. They were furious about the assignment. Their old rivals finally had a chance to mock them, laughing about the unimpressive human they were stuck with. For two women used to being on top, it was the ultimate humiliation. So they took all that pent-up anger out on me. Celeste, being more composed, mostly just ignored me, treating me with a cold, detached distance. Rhea, on the other hand, was a volcano. She constantly ridiculed me, criticizing everything from my looks to my job. In her eyes, I was a useless, pathetic waste of space. Then, somewhere along the line… things started to change. Their attitudes softened. Especially Celeste’s. She stopped treating me like I was invisible. She would accept the milk I offered, and even thank me. Sometimes, she would look at me and suddenly pull me into a hug, an affectionate gesture like the ones other Feline mates shared. I’d never experienced anything like it and was utterly overwhelmed. Even Rhea’s taunts became less frequent. She’d occasionally pull me into a game with her, though she’d spend the whole time yelling at me for being a dead weight while simultaneously head-shotting anyone who dared to attack me. I thought I was finally winning them over, that my persistence was paying off. I thought that while I was trying so hard to please them, they were trying to accept me. Until that shattered glass of milk. It was like a beautiful dream, torn to shreds without warning. All my years of effort, affection, and devotion were reduced to a single word. Lapdog. The most common, most shameless, most pathetic lapdog. 3. For days after that, I barely slept. Shame and humiliation consumed me. I started actively avoiding them. When my friend Mark found out, he was furious. I just lowered my head, fidgeting with my sleeve. “It’s over now. I’ve figured it out. I’ll just keep my distance from now on.” The worst-case scenario was a polite, cold coexistence. Our high compatibility scores meant that only I could soothe them during their Cycle. And the status they earned at the Agency provided me with a comfortable life. It was just… an exchange. “So are you still going to bring them milk?” Mark asked. I thought for a moment. “I guess so.” Maintaining a façade of civility felt necessary. Mark looked like he wanted to say more. Finally, he did. “But don’t you think it’s a little unfair to keep bringing two glasses, treating them exactly the same?” Unfair? Because Celeste and Rhea were twins, and their compatibility with me was exceptionally high, the Program official had stressed one thing above all else: balance. “Multi-Feline pairings like yours are rare, but not unheard of. The most important thing for stability is fairness. You can’t favor one over the other. You have to be the glue that holds the family together. Your every action will affect their moods and upset the balance between them.” I had taken that to heart. I prepared two of everything. Two glasses of milk, two gifts for every occasion. When I packed their lunches, I even counted the shrimp in each container to make sure they were equal. After all that, it was still unfair? Seeing my confusion, Mark elaborated. “Rhea was the only one who was cruel to you that night, right? Celeste didn’t say a thing.” I nodded. Not only did she not say anything, she’d slapped Rhea, almost as if to defend me. And… I looked down at the scar on my shin. Celeste had knelt before me, her expression more serious than I’d ever seen it, and carefully tended to the wound. Before she left, she pulled a piece of chocolate from her pocket and gave it to me. She had wiped my tears, coaxed me to sleep, and even apologized on her sister’s behalf. But it had nothing to do with her. The only one who had hurt me that night was Rhea. “Exactly,” Mark said. “Think about it. The two sisters treat you completely differently, but in the end, they both get the same glass of milk, the same gifts. For Celeste, the one who’s kinder and better to you, isn’t that unfair?” I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came. Later that night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I remembered something from the group home. A volunteer came to visit, and I helped him with his work all afternoon while the other kids played. My palms were red and raw from carrying boxes. At the end of the day, he gave me a new backpack as a reward. But everyone else got one too. Even the laziest kid, the one who spent the whole afternoon chasing butterflies, got the exact same backpack. As the volunteer was leaving, he pulled me aside. With a magician’s flourish, he produced two small pins and pressed them into my hand with a smile. “The backpacks are for everyone,” he said. “But these pins are an extra gift, just for you.” He told me, “The good kids deserve an extra reward. That’s what’s truly fair.” The words of the Program official and the volunteer battled in my head. Slowly, the scales tipped in favor of the latter. The volunteer was right. The one who behaved better deserved a bigger reward. That was real fairness. 4. The milk was just the beginning. When we watched TV in the evenings, I no longer sat perfectly in the middle. I shifted closer to Celeste, putting a clear distance between myself and Rhea. I stopped saying good morning to Rhea. I only smiled my warm greeting when I saw Celeste. When I had a question, I only asked Celeste. When we went out, I only took Celeste’s hand. Even at meals, my favoritism was blatant. Ten shrimp in the pan, eight went to Celeste. At first, I was anxious. Abandoning my long-held practice of perfect balance made me uneasy. But I soon realized the consequences weren’t nearly as bad as I’d feared. Celeste, despite her cool demeanor, never embarrassed me. When I sat next to her, she would naturally take my wrist and ask if I wanted a snack. When I said good morning, she would reply immediately and ask how I’d slept. She would taste every dish I made and praise them with genuine sincerity. And by no longer clinging to Rhea, I was no longer shoved off the couch. My greetings were no longer met with silence. I was no longer violently shaken off in the middle of the street because she was ashamed to be seen with me. The meals I worked so hard to prepare were no longer condemned as too salty or disgusting. I retreated into Celeste’s shadow like a turtle into its shell, savoring the rare warmth and peace. But the atmosphere in the house grew strangely tense. Several times, I felt a pair of eyes drilling into my back. But whenever I turned, I’d only see Rhea staring blankly at the television. Sensing my gaze, she would turn her head, her tone hostile. “What are you looking at? You want to play games again?” In the past, my foolish self would have taken that as an invitation and eagerly scrambled over. But now, I just shook my head, refusing to set myself up for more humiliation. Celeste walked over just then, and I followed her, grabbing my badminton racket as we headed for the door. It was a new hobby of mine, and I’d often play with Celeste for hours. We had just stepped outside when a loud crash echoed from the living room. I turned back to see that Rhea had smashed her game console. Shards of plastic were scattered everywhere. Her gaze was venomous, fixed on where my hand was clasped around Celeste’s wrist. She gave a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “This isn’t fun anymore, sis.” “You’re getting addicted to playing the nice one, acting like you actually like this ugly freak.” 5. How long had it been since I’d heard that name? Back when we were first paired, Rhea made no attempt to hide her disgust for me. She’d even gotten into a massive, shouting argument with the officials at the Pairing Center. Ugly freak. Parasite. Those were her favorite names for me. I think it stopped after the first time I helped them through their Cycle. The usually cold and arrogant geniuses of the Agency became incredibly clingy during their Cycle. It was the only time I could touch their true Feline forms. The fierce, powerful warriors became giant, purring cats who only wanted to rub against me. They’d call me their husband, desperately trying to snuggle into my arms, rumbling with contentment. It was as if they couldn’t live without me. Their heads were always tucked into the crook of my neck, and they’d even fight each other for who could get closer to me. I’d be flushed and flustered, embarrassed by their husky whispers of “husband.” After she returned to normal, Rhea would always stare at me with a look of pure mortification, speechless. But she did stop attacking my appearance after that. A friend once told me that after that kind of intimacy, even the most cold-hearted Feline will soften. Those were some of the few sweet memories I had. The truth is, I’m not ugly. I’m decent-looking, maybe a little plain. It’s just that the sisters are so stunningly beautiful that I fade into the background next to them. I tried to console myself. That’s just Rhea’s personality. She’s young, she’s always been put on a pedestal, and she’s always been cruel. I rejected her invitation to play games, which bruised her ego. It was only natural for her to lash out and call me an ugly freak again. But even with that reasoning, I still couldn’t sleep that night. Maybe, deep down, I still felt wronged. I got out of bed to get a glass of water. A faint light glowed from the balcony. It was Celeste and Rhea. One stood at the railing, the other leaned against the wall. The tiny orange spark of a cigarette ember glowed between them. They were talking. I slipped into the shadows of the hallway, staying silent. 6. “That’s the second time you’ve hit me, sis.” Rhea exhaled a cloud of smoke. There was a faint bruise on her lip. She smirked, but there was no humor in her eyes. “Just because I called him an ugly freak?” Across from her, Celeste’s expression was so cold it felt foreign. She had been so gentle with me lately that I’d almost forgotten. This was the true nature of a Feline: cold, alluring, with a core of ice. She and her sister were the same. “If you don’t like him, you can avoid him,” Celeste said, her voice calm. “But if I see you bullying him again, I’ll hit you every single time.” Rhea laughed as if she’d heard the funniest joke in the world. “Are you serious, sis? Weren’t you the one who filed a joint appeal with me, trying to reject the assignment? And now you’re protecting him? Are you addicted to this act?” She laughed for a long time before stopping, her posture relaxing slightly. “Alright, I get it. The trial period is almost over. This is your strategy, right? Play nice with the ugly freak so he’ll agree to a divorce without a fight? If we hadn’t already agreed on the plan, I might have actually been fooled by you.” Trial period?

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After my dad was poisoned to death, I called the police and had Chris, the caregiver who’d been attending to him, arrested. But my wife Lester insisted that Chris was innocent. She defended him as his lawyer for six years. Every time, Chris would grab my hand with fake sincerity: “Mr. Steve, your wife is such a good person. She believes in me. I really didn’t harm your father!” Finally, she won the case for Chris. When she came home, she said to me: “It’s all over now. Don’t let hatred blind you. Chris raised me. He’s not a bad person.” I smiled and poured her a glass of wine, clinking glasses with her. That very night, I tied Chris up and forced the same poison down his throat on camera. I looked at my watch and calmly counted down: “Lester, you have sixty minutes. Bring the antidote and my father’s real will, or else…” Chris was foaming at the mouth, convulsing painfully on the floor. The camera gave him a close-up: “You’ll be attending two funerals!” The live stream link spread through anonymous channels. In less than ten minutes, the viewer count broke through a million. On camera, Chris was tied tightly to a chair, foam hanging from the corners of his mouth, his body convulsing violently. And I stood behind him, expressionless, holding a timer. Everyone watching held their breath. The most anxious among them was undoubtedly the star lawyer Lester. “Steve! Your dad’s death really has nothing to do with Chris! I’ve been investigating for six years!” She shouted at me shrilly through the video connection, her face displayed in split-screen. I looked at her delicate face twisted with anger and terror on the big screen, my lips curling with mockery. “Is that so? Then where’s the real will you found, the one my dad wrote in his own hand?” The live stream chat exploded instantly: [Is this guy insane? Six years of litigation, the court already ruled, and he still won’t accept it?] [Paranoid personality disorder, right? He won’t be satisfied unless he can call the caregiver a murderer?] [His wife is Lester! A legal legend! She turned down all those million-dollar cases to defend this caregiver for six years pro bono. Doesn’t that loyalty prove something?] Watching public opinion overwhelmingly support her, Lester’s expression calmed slightly. She straightened her back, speaking with more confidence: “Steve! The facts are right there. The evidence is solid. I don’t know what ‘real will’ you’re talking about.” “What you’re doing now already constitutes kidnapping and intentional harm! Release Chris immediately. For the sake of our marriage, I’ll do my best to defend you!” I ignored her. I picked up a hammer from the toolbox and grabbed Chris’s desperately struggling left hand. “Crack!” The sound of shattering bones transmitted clearly across the internet through the microphone. Chris’s scream burst through the rag in his mouth, shrill and inhuman. Lester’s expression froze instantly. I held up the deformed hand to the camera for display. “Do you think I’m playing around?” Lester stared at the screen, her face deathly pale. “You… you maniac!” I casually tossed aside the hammer and picked up a white cloth, methodically wiping the blood spatters from my hands. “That was just the first one.” I held up one finger. “Lester, six years of litigation, six instances of perjury—you also have six chances. Make public the real will you’ve been hiding for six years. Each time, I’m giving you ten minutes.” [He’s seriously unhinged! How can she hand over something that doesn’t exist?] [Stop trying to manipulate public opinion! We netizens can judge for ourselves. We don’t just support whoever looks more pitiful!] [Besides, your dad was so old. Isn’t it possible he died of natural causes? Chris is the real victim who’s been wrongly accused for six years!] I watched the rapidly scrolling comments. The vast majority were cursing me for being unreasonable, for refusing to accept reality. [I bet he’s just fighting over the inheritance. Showed his true colors as soon as his dad died!] [What are the police doing? Hurry up and track him down! Any later and that poor caregiver will be tortured to death by this lunatic!] The police also sent an official warning: [We’ve locked onto your location. Stop this criminal behavior immediately and surrender!] I just sneered. I’d already hired a top hacker to hide my IP address. Sure enough, time passed minute by minute, and the police made no progress. The netizens were more anxious than anyone, crashing the police department’s official account backend. Finally, the police had to issue an announcement admitting they couldn’t pinpoint my exact location and were urgently mobilizing technical experts. I glanced at the timer. I picked up a pair of pliers, aiming at Chris’s other undamaged hand. “Time’s almost up, dear.” “Wait!” Lester finally broke down, her face pale. “I’ll hand it over! I’ll hand it over!”

A document was quickly submitted through police channels—a scanned copy of a will. But I only glanced at it once before grabbing the pen on the table and viciously stabbing it into the back of Chris’s hand. “Ahhh—!” A scream came from Chris’s gagged mouth. He threw his head back in despair. Blood gushed from the wound on his hand, and his uninjured eye was full of terror. “Steve!!” Lester rushed to the camera, her eyes bloodshot. “I already handed it over! Why did you still attack him!” I printed out that so-called “new will” and waved it at the camera. “You think I’m a three-year-old? This will leaves all our family assets to you and only gives me an apartment in the suburbs. I’m his biological son. Do you think that’s reasonable?” After speaking, I threw the paper on the floor and ground it viciously under my high heel, staring at the screen with cold eyes. “Lester, trying to placate me with something like this is useless.” Lester’s face went another shade paler. The netizens were completely enraged: [I heard his dad was often abused by him when he was alive! If he really submitted a will leaving all the inheritance to you, that would be the forgery!] [Lawyer Lester’s professionalism and character are renowned in the industry! You’re the one full of lies and a murderer!] [Let that poor caregiver go!] I just smiled contemptuously and checked my watch. “Dear, you have six minutes left this time.” Lester braced her hands on the desk, staring at me intently. “The case is already settled. What exactly do you want me to hand over!” “You know perfectly well.” I returned her stare coldly. “If you really care so much about your Uncle Chris, stop wasting time and submit the real evidence!” Lester bit her teeth hard. “If I really wanted to deceive you, I could’ve just hired some third-rate lawyer to handle it. Why would I waste six years of my time personally defending him!” I raised my chin. “That’s something you need to ask yourself.” The online abuse became even fiercer. Countless people accused me of being depraved and unworthy of such a devoted wife as Lester. The police negotiation expert also kept sending me private messages, trying to shake my resolve. I just sat leisurely beside Chris, stepping on the pool of blood, watching my watch. “Time’s up.” I stood up. Chris’s eyes widened in terror as he looked at me. “Steve, stop!” A commanding voice rang out. I whipped my head around. A dignified, authoritative figure stood before the camera. I froze. It was my father-in-law, Jacob. “Steve, I personally followed your father’s case. I went to the police station no less than a hundred times. Things really aren’t what you think.”

The knife tip hovered over Chris’s other wrist. Jacob stood before the camera looking pained. “I care about your father’s death more than anyone. I had people investigate thoroughly. This matter truly has nothing to do with Chris.” I looked at him in disbelief. “You always said before that my dad definitely didn’t commit suicide. Now you think this?” Jacob sighed heavily. “Steve, you need to respect the facts. All the evidence points to suicide.” “I think you’re the ones not respecting the facts!” I pointed at the camera, my emotions somewhat out of control. “That was my father! And your childhood friend!” “Years ago when the Jacob family nearly went bankrupt, it was my father who gave you his life savings to help you through!” “He lived his whole life honorably. In his later years, he was passionate about fitness and travel. Someone who loved life that much—how could he possibly commit suicide!” Jacob frowned. “Steve, people change. Maybe he just suddenly couldn’t think straight.” I laughed. I yanked the cloth from Chris’s mouth. “I think you’re the ones who’ve changed.” “Help—” Chris had barely gotten the word out when I grabbed his jaw and forced his mouth open. I picked up the pliers and aimed at his teeth. One, two, three. The floor was covered with teeth I’d forcibly pulled out, trailing blood. “Ahhhhh!!” Chris’s roar was heart-wrenching, nearly causing him to lose consciousness. Jacob panicked too, shouting at the camera: “Enough! Stop! Steve! Stop it!!” After pulling out the last front tooth, Chris’s mouth streamed with blood. He went completely limp, his body shaking like a sieve. “Chris…” Jacob instinctively called out, his eyes full of heartache. I stared intently at the screen. “What’s this, Jacob? You know him well?” Jacob froze for a moment. He immediately resumed that righteous expression. “Steve! You’re disgracing your father!” I sneered and glanced at my watch. “You’ve already wasted three chances.” “Round four. Ten minutes. Timer starts now.” I sat back down in the chair, leisurely toying with the blood-stained pliers. Lester paced back and forth before the camera like a cat on a hot tin roof. With thirty seconds left, I began the countdown: “29, 28, 27…” “There’s no such will as you claim! What exactly do you want me to hand over!” Lester was going mad. The netizens were also indignant: [If it really existed, anyone in this situation would hand it over! You’re forcing Lawyer Lester to forge evidence!] [Exactly! He’s trying to ruin Lawyer Lester’s career!] [This man’s heart is too vicious!] “5, 4…” “Steve!!” “3, 2…” “Steve, get a grip!” “1…” “Daddy!” A childish voice suddenly rang out. My whole body stiffened. I stood up quickly. “Weber…”

“Daddy!” My son Weber’s tender face appeared on camera, his face covered in tears. “Weber, did Mom bring you here?” Before doing this, I’d clearly entrusted the child to my most trusted friend, instructing them repeatedly never to let him get involved. Could it be that my friend… “Daddy! Grandpa really drank the poison himself!” My pupils contracted sharply. The netizens were even more dissatisfied: [Steve, look what you’ve done! You’re forcing such a young child to face all this!] [Even the child is testifying, and you still won’t wake up? This is your own biological son!] I gripped the pliers tighter in my hand. “Weber, that’s your grandfather. The grandfather who secretly bought you Legos, who was the first to stand up for you when you were bullied!” Weber cried even harder. “Grandpa said he didn’t want to live anymore! He didn’t want to be a burden! Weber didn’t lie! Weber really didn’t lie! Daddy, please let Chris go, okay?” Lester pulled Weber into her arms and shouted at the camera: “Steve! Are you going to doubt even your own son’s words!” I clenched my teeth. “What did you teach him to say?” [I’m done. Does this guy have serious mental illness or what!] [Finally understand where those CEO novel male leads who refuse to believe the female lead come from. Art really does imitate life.] “Steve! If you won’t believe Weber, who do you want to convince you!” Lester was righteously indignant. I just grabbed Chris’s ear and made his bloody, mangled face face the camera directly. I picked up a small knife, the blade lightly tracing across his cheek. I chuckled softly. “Lester, you think that over these six years, I didn’t know about you secretly transferring money to him at night, arranging work for his sister?” Lester’s eyes flew open. “Fourth chance, gone!” I aimed the knife at Chris’s eye and raised it high. “Daddy!!” Weber suddenly held up a diary. “Grandpa told me to give this to you before he left!” The knife tip stopped less than a millimeter from Chris’s eyeball.

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My wife Moore’s brother racked up fifty million in online gambling debts, but he left my contact information. By the time the debt ballooned to a hundred million with interest, vicious debt collectors finally showed up at my door. After I convinced them to leave, my wife and mother-in-law finally crept out of the bedroom, trembling. My wife’s face had gone pale. “Let’s get divorced. I’d rather leave with nothing. Your debts are your own—don’t even think about dragging me down.” I tried to explain that her brother owed the money, but she refused to believe me. My mother-in-law Ruth slapped me across the face. “How dare you slander my son just to trick my daughter into paying your debts! Let’s divorce now!” “Might as well tell you the truth—Moore is pregnant. With your best friend’s child.” Actually, I could pay off this debt. But since you want a divorce, you can deal with this massive debt yourselves. My voice came out hoarse as I asked Moore: “You… you’re pregnant with Howard’s child? When did this happen?” Moore turned away, her voice dripping with contempt. “Alex, so what if I am? What business is it of yours?” “Don’t even think about trying to keep me! I don’t want a useless husband who only knows how to rack up debts and won’t own up to them.” I stood frozen, unable to speak. Seeing me stunned, Ruth kicked me. “Did you hear that? Tomorrow, City Hall. Divorce!” She turned with a sneaky smile to Moore. “Good thing you took birth control every time you were intimate with this loser.” “Otherwise he’d use a baby to blackmail you into paying his debts! We were planning to have him raise the child, but now that’s clearly unnecessary.” I couldn’t believe my ears. “So every time… you took pills beforehand?” Three years of marriage, and Moore’s stomach had never shown any signs. Ruth had repeatedly called me a useless waste who couldn’t produce children in front of relatives and friends, even forcing me to go to the hospital for tests. The results showed nothing wrong with me, and the matter eventually faded away. Turns out she’d been taking birth control all along. She’d even planned to make me raise another man’s child. Moore snorted coldly. “Did you forget how your family treated me? I never liked that whole wedding money situation!” Ruth spat. “That pathetic wedding money back then—I didn’t even want Moore to marry you.” My mind flashed back to the wedding three years ago. We’d agreed on a hundred thousand in wedding money. But on the wedding day, they demanded an additional hundred thousand. I thought it was excessive, but Moore cried in the wedding car, saying her mother only had one daughter and it hadn’t been easy. I gritted my teeth and paid. Then when we arrived at the house, Ruth said the door-opening gift couldn’t be less—another hundred thousand. I didn’t want to pay anymore. This was obviously just a money grab. In the end, my dad made the call, saying weddings were happy occasions and we shouldn’t let this ruin things. He paid the money. Thankfully, my dad saw through their true nature and hid the fact that we were worth hundreds of millions. Dad even arranged the wedding at our old house from before we made it big. They finally stopped after getting three hundred thousand total. Ruth didn’t give Moore a single cent in dowry, saying our family “wasn’t worthy of matching contributions.” I only found out later that Ruth had given all that three hundred thousand to her son Bob to squander.

My dad specifically reminded me at the time to keep hiding our wealth, saying “time reveals a person’s heart.” Now it seemed he was absolutely right. I took a deep breath and pulled out my phone to call Bob. “Fine, we can divorce. But I’m not taking responsibility for Bob’s debts. I’m calling him right now to make this clear.” I called several times, but Bob didn’t pick up. Moore slapped my phone out of my hand, screaming, “You know Bob is traveling abroad and can’t answer calls, so you dare slander him!” Ruth kicked my phone far away. “Your own debt—you want us to pay it? If you don’t take responsibility, who will?” Just then, the front door slammed open with a bang. Howard stormed in, his face full of rage. “Alex, you’re absolutely despicable! A hundred million in debt!” Moore threw herself into his arms. “Howard, he even dares to claim Bob borrowed it.” Howard kissed the top of Moore’s head. “Why don’t you come stay at my place? Otherwise what if the debt collectors come back and scare you and my son?” Seeing my stunned expression, Howard sneered. “What’s the big deal? Did you think you knew where Moore went every time you traveled for work?” “She came to my place! She’s slept in my bed more times than in yours!” After calling me despicable, he took Moore’s hand, and the three of them left my house without looking back. What shocked me wasn’t just Moore’s betrayal, but Howard’s too. Howard and I were college classmates. A few years ago when he lost his job and asked to borrow money, I lent him a hundred thousand without hesitation. Later when he couldn’t find work, I recommended him to a company where he slowly worked his way up to executive, earning five million a year. But I never told him that company belonged to my dad. I never imagined this friend would sleep with my wife. Lost in these memories, I received a call from a subordinate. “Alex, get back to the company quickly!” I didn’t know what was wrong, but I rushed back to the office. Moore had brought Howard and Ruth, and they were making a huge scene at my company. Moore was at the legal department processing paperwork. “Starting today, I’m no longer a shareholder of this trash company. I’m withdrawing!” Howard grabbed the withdrawal contract. “Right, hurry up and withdraw, then divorce. That hundred million debt will have nothing to do with us.” Ruth ran to my company’s clients shouting, “This company’s owner has terrible character! Everyone should choose a different company. Leave, leave!” Company clients stood up one by one, gathering their things to leave. Ruth wasn’t satisfied yet. She continued shouting at employee workstations. “Everyone protect your valuables! Your scumbag boss owes a hundred million and might steal anything valuable and run at any moment. He won’t even pay wages!” Seeing me walk in, my coworkers immediately secured their valuables, whispering among themselves. “So the boss owes a hundred million! He’s abandoning his own wife—he might really run off with the money!” “I never would’ve guessed he was such a lowlife. Now there’s a scene, let’s see what he does!” “Even his former friend is righteously denouncing him—it must be true. We should probably all start looking for new jobs.” I rushed in. “What gives you the right to spread lies? I can sue you for any damages to the company!” Howard put on a righteous act, shielding Moore. “You owe a full hundred million—that’s a fact!”

The employees outside grew louder with their gossip about me. Just then, my mom walked in, asking in disbelief, “How is that possible? Alex, didn’t you just give me jewelry from an auction two days ago?” I’d forgotten—we were supposed to have dinner at a restaurant together after work today. Moore laughed mockingly. “What auction? Your son bought that with loan shark money!” “Enjoy it now, you’ll be crying later!” “Thank goodness the baby in my belly isn’t from your family, or it would be cursed too!” “What?!” My mom’s face filled with shock. She grabbed Moore as she tried to leave. “What did you say?!” Moore disgustedly shook off her hand. “Are you deaf? I said the baby in my belly isn’t from your family!” My mom already had high blood pressure. Moore’s push made her stumble backward. She clutched her heart and collapsed to the floor. I rushed forward, supporting my mom. “Mom! What’s wrong?” Moore spat. “Always acting. Planning to fake illness and extort money from us? Let’s get out of here, this is so unlucky!” She finished speaking and hurried out with Ruth and Howard. My mom’s face was pale. She couldn’t say a word before slowly losing consciousness. I couldn’t worry about anything else. I picked up my mom and ran to the hospital. In the emergency room, the doctor examined my mom. “She has high blood pressure. Emotional stress caused her blood pressure to spike. She needs to be hospitalized for observation.” I walked out of the hospital room and called my dad, who was on a business trip abroad. “Hello, Alex?” My dad’s voice came through. I explained everything that had happened. The phone went silent for a few seconds. Dad said, “I’ll book a flight back immediately. They’ll regret this.” “Take good care of your mom. Leave everything else to me.” Dad paused. “I’ll also deal with Howard and Moore’s family.” After hanging up, I sat by the hospital bed and canceled the authorization on the credit card I’d given Moore. That credit card was for Moore to buy groceries. I’d told her she could spend ten thousand a month. She only knew I paid off the balance each month, but didn’t know the card’s actual credit limit was a hundred million. My phone suddenly buzzed. Howard had sent several Twitter messages. First was an intimate photo of him with Moore. Then several voice messages: “Really sorry, but you owe too much. I can’t help you. But I suggest you could work as a male escort to pay off the debt.” “Being a male escort would even let you practice your skills. Moore said you’re no good in bed, so she came to me.” I laughed without anger. “I treated you pretty well, didn’t I? This is how you repay me?” Howard laughed heartily. “At first I thought you really were some rich kid, that’s why I became your friend!” “If I’d known you were the type to borrow from loan sharks, I wouldn’t have given you the time of day.” I stopped responding and blocked him on Twitter. The next morning, I went home planning to pack some things before returning to the hospital to stay with my mom. As soon as I opened the door, Moore, Ruth, and Howard were standing in the living room again. Moore slapped me. “You have some nerve coming back. Didn’t we agree to meet at City Hall today? How dare you not show up!” Ruth also kicked me. “Just as I predicted—he doesn’t want to divorce because he wants us to help pay the hundred million!” I pushed them away, gritting my teeth. “My mom was hurt by you and is hospitalized, and you’re still worried about the divorce?”

Moore sneered. “It’s your mom who’s sick, not mine. What’s it got to do with me?” Howard threw a divorce agreement in front of me. “I’ve already written up the agreement. Just sign your name!” Moore found a pen and threw it at me. “I already asked a lawyer. As long as I leave with nothing and don’t get a cent, naturally I won’t have to bear a cent of your debts!” “Hurry up and sign. Don’t delay my wedding with Howard!” I found it laughable and signed the agreement right away. To escape debt, she was willing to leave with nothing—so naturally she’d never get a share of my family’s hundreds of millions in assets. Then Howard came up to drag me away. “Let’s go to City Hall and finalize the divorce! Nothing is more urgent than this!” I shook off Howard. “My mom has surgery today. I don’t have time.” Ruth kicked me. “Cut the crap! Even if your mom kicks the bucket today, you’re signing the divorce first!” They forcibly dragged me out the door, pulling and tugging all the way to City Hall. The whole way, Ruth kept loudly running her mouth, slandering me about owing a hundred million. People around us were watching the spectacle. “This guy apparently owes loan sharks. His wife’s divorcing him.” “I heard he even tried to frame his wife’s brother for the debt to avoid paying!” “So shameless. No wonder his wife and mother-in-law are doing this. If it were me, I’d kick him to the curb too.” The clerk adjusted their glasses. “Have you agreed on all the terms in the divorce agreement?” Moore nodded and handed over the agreement. “Yes, I’m leaving with nothing.” I had no objections and went through the process. Walking out of the office, Moore finally smiled. “I’m finally free! I love you, Howard!” “As soon as the divorce cooling-off period ends, we’re getting married!” She threw herself into Howard’s arms and kissed him in public. “Thank goodness I met you and could start over, or this loser would’ve ruined my whole life.” Ruth was even more arrogant, shoving me. “Get lost! My daughter is pregnant with Howard’s child now.” “From now on she’ll live the good life and never have to look at your poor face again!” I couldn’t be bothered with them and turned to leave. Howard squeezed Moore’s waist, then made a phone call. “Sky Grand Hotel, book me a table for seven tonight to celebrate.” “I want the highest tier menu, and reserve two bottles of 1982 Lafite for me.” He deliberately raised his voice so I could hear every word clearly. After hanging up, Howard said with a smile, “Alex, we’re going to celebrate tonight. Want to join us?” I took a deep breath, turned around and said coldly, “Screw off!” Moore giggled. “Howard, stop teasing the idiot. He owes a hundred million now. How would he dare walk around outside?” “Someone might come to collect the debt any moment, and he’ll end up dead in the street.” Ruth spat. “Serves him right! That’s karma!” Just then, a crowd suddenly surged behind us. Leading them was a bald, muscular man, followed by seven or eight tattooed tough guys. The bald man stripped off his shirt and roared, “Debts must be repaid!” Moore and Howard jumped at the sudden shout. Seeing they were debt collectors, Ruth quickly pulled out the divorce agreement: “He’s already divorced my daughter. Kill him or do whatever you want—it has nothing to do with us.”

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My husband has lost his memory again. This time, he’s forgotten me and remembered his first love, Violet. “Miss Reed, change the room diffuser to rose and cedarwood. Violet loves that scent.” “All clothes must be hand-washed, no detergent with any fragrance. Violet has a sensitive nose.” “Oh, and once you finish making dinner, you can leave. Violet doesn’t like having strangers in the house.” All afternoon, Harrison kept going on about Violet. He treated me like I was just some newly hired caregiver. Naturally, he didn’t remember that five years ago, Violet abandoned him without hesitation when he went bankrupt. It was me who stayed by this man’s side when he hit rock bottom, when he lost his sense of smell in a car accident. I accompanied him through the long rehabilitation. I raised his nephew—the orphan left behind when his brother died in that crash—as my own. I even gave up touching a single drop of perfume for five whole years, all to avoid stimulating his fragile olfactory nerves—me, an award-winning perfumer who’d won gold at international competitions. My world shrank down to nothing but the bland scent of medical soap. Half a month ago, Violet suddenly returned from abroad. Harrison only had to glimpse her through a window, and miraculously, he remembered everything from before. While completely erasing our five years together. I looked at this man whose heart and eyes were full of someone else. Slowly, I removed my sterile gloves. “Fine. I’ll leave after one last therapy session.” Since both times he lost his memory were because of Violet, why shouldn’t I let go and let him have his great love?

“Harrison, I want some of that.” “Alright, open up.” Violet’s long lashes lowered as her cheeks puffed out. She giggled as she swallowed the fruit Harrison fed her. “You haven’t changed at all. Still picky like before.” Harrison’s slender fingers gently brushed her nose, his eyes filled with sickeningly sweet indulgence. When he saw me approaching with the therapy tray, Violet’s cheeks flushed red as she burrowed shyly into Harrison’s embrace. “Oh, stop it! There’s someone else here!” Harrison looked up at me, his gaze instantly freezing to ice. The current him had forgotten that I wasn’t some outsider. I was his legal wife of five years. I gave a bitter smile. I set down the tray and retreated back to the pharmacy. My phone vibrated. A message popped up. “Harrison’s memory has developed selective gaps. He only remembers his past with Violet. His olfactory nerves are extremely fragile. To prevent further stimulation, you need to cooperate.” Frustrated, I slapped the phone facedown on the desk. The moment I turned around, a triumphant face suddenly loomed close. “What a joke. So what if you spent five years with him? One look at me and he forgot all about you!” Violet wore a victor’s smile. She pulled down her scarf with a flourish, revealing a large expanse of glaring red marks. “Your husband is really passionate in bed. Tell me, when the therapy session ends, if he can’t help himself and wants me, won’t that be awkward for you, the caregiver?” My eyes fell on those garish red marks. But my memory dragged me back involuntarily to that rainy night five years ago. That night, Harrison was in a terrible car accident. Bright red blood mixed with rainwater, flowing everywhere. His face was deathly pale. I only saw him for one moment, and my heart nearly stopped from the pain. I threw away the offer letter I’d just received from a top perfume house. I pulled him out of the mangled car wreckage all by myself. I stayed outside the operating room for three days and three nights before he was finally snatched back from death’s door. When he woke up, he’d forgotten the whole world and lost his prized sense of smell. But he remembered only me. Depended on me. I dug my nails hard into my palm, forcing myself to look away. Before I could speak, a tall figure rushed into the pharmacy and pulled Violet into his arms. “Violet, what are you doing in here? There are too many smells here—they’ll bother you. Do you know that for the five years you were gone, my heart was empty? Now that you’re finally back, I don’t want you out of my sight for even a second.” Burning kisses fell without restraint. I stepped back and accidentally knocked over a glass beaker on the table. Shards scattered everywhere. Harrison paused and turned to look at me. His expression was nothing short of disgusted. “Why are you still here?” I looked down in a daze. At the glass shards all over the floor, like looking at my own heart shattered into pieces. Yes. Five stolen years. I should have left long ago. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave right away.” I fled from the pharmacy. But at the corner of the hallway, I ran into a small figure. It was Logan. “You’re really leaving?” He stood with his arms crossed, frowning at me. I sighed and crouched down, trying to make my voice sound gentle. “Logan, if you want, you can come with me.” Unexpectedly, Logan suddenly shoved me hard, pushing me to the ground. “Violet just got back, and you already want to separate us? Violet’s right—if you hadn’t been clinging to Harrison all these years, he would have gone to find her! I hate you! I froze in place. The blood in my body felt like it had been drained in an instant. This was the child I’d raised with my own hands for five years. To take care of him, I’d given up all my social life and career. Now, after knowing Violet for just a few days, he already hated me this much? Fine then. Since he didn’t want to come, I wouldn’t force him. I stood up and dusted off my clothes. I returned to my cramped guest room. I opened the closet and started packing. Nothing but white shirts and black pants. Not a single pattern, not a splash of color. After Harrison lost his sense of smell, overly bright colors also triggered physiological dizziness for him. For five whole years, I hadn’t worn a single colorful dress. As I walked out with my suitcase, Harrison was sitting on the sofa reading a business magazine. From the second-floor bathroom came Violet’s syrupy voice. “Harrison, I can’t find the towels. Can you come in and help me?” In the past, Harrison was extremely fastidious about cleanliness. Except for me, if anyone came within three feet of him, he’d feel nauseous. I thought he would frown and refuse. But he only paused for a second before closing his magazine and calling back, “Sure, coming.” My feet felt like they were filled with lead. Rooted to the spot. Until a gust of wind from outside blew a velvet gift box off the entryway table. My gaze shifted down. The box had opened, and a dazzling diamond bracelet lay there quietly. That was the style I’d lingered on in a brand catalog half a month ago. At the time, Harrison had wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. He’d kissed my earlobe, his voice low and husky. “Like it? I’ll give it to you for our fifth anniversary.” Now, he stopped in his tracks and walked over to pick up the box. He looked at the bracelet inside with complete bewilderment. As if he had no idea how such a thing ended up in his house. “This is…” The clock struck twelve. I summoned every ounce of strength to pull out a proper smile. “Probably a surprise you prepared for Violet.” Harrison nodded without a hint of doubt and pocketed the box. “Probably.” I gripped the handle of my suitcase and walked out the door. It’s not that I hadn’t hoped he was just momentarily confused. But I had to face reality. He didn’t remember. These five years meant nothing to him—just a piece of waste paper he could tear up anytime. The clock had finished chiming. The magic was broken. Cinderella had to return to her swamp. Every future anniversary, he would spend with another woman.

By the time I reached my old house in the suburbs, I was soaked through from the rainstorm. With trembling hands, I unlocked my phone. The first post in my feed was from Violet. It was a close-up photo. Her slender wrist wore that latest-model diamond bracelet. The background was Harrison’s master bedroom and that enormous double bed. Caption: “Round and round, it’s still you.” Below it, Harrison had commented within seconds. “So grateful heaven didn’t let me lose you completely.” Each word was a knife. Stabbing straight into my heart. That bed—Harrison never let me on it. He said he couldn’t stand anyone else’s breathing in his bed, not even mine. But now, with Violet, every prohibition had become foreplay. Every boundary had become a privilege. My heart felt like it was being sawed back and forth with a rusty blade, the pain suffocating me. I took a hot shower. I wrapped myself in my comforter like a cocoon. Eyes open, I lasted until dawn. Early the next morning, I brought two documents and knocked on the door of the Harrison residence again. Beneath my resignation letter was a divorce agreement I’d drafted long ago. I only hoped he’d sign it quickly without even looking. But Harrison merely glanced at the title before coldly throwing the documents back onto the table. “You’ve been my therapist for five years. You know my condition better than anyone. Now that Violet’s back, I need you to stay and help me take care of her health. I heard you used to be a perfumer? Violet wants a one-of-a-kind perfume as a gift for the engagement party. Stay and create the fragrance. I’ll pay you double.” I stood frozen. My blood slowly turned ice-cold. He wanted me, his wife, to create an engagement gift perfume for his new love? Harrison, do you even have a heart? Before I could refuse, the study door opened. Dr. Morgan walked in wearing a perfectly tailored suit, a gentle smile at the corners of his mouth. “Aria, reconnecting with familiar scents is also the best way to stimulate Harrison’s olfactory nerves. I know this puts you in a difficult position, but for the sake of his condition, you’ll agree, won’t you?” Dr. Morgan. Harrison’s psychiatrist, and also his childhood friend who knew everything. And for the past five years, the only person who knew about our secret marriage. I clenched my clothes tightly. No wonder Harrison suddenly wanted me to create fragrances—it was his idea. In Harrison’s love life, I was a substitute he could call on at will. In Dr. Morgan’s friendship, I was equally a pawn he could sacrifice at any moment. Just on my way here, I’d received an offer from a perfume research institute in a southern city. I had five days until I needed to report. Fine then. Why not use these five days to personally bury these ridiculous five years? “Fine.” I looked up and met Harrison’s cold gaze. “Five days. I agree.” For five days, I locked myself in my long-sealed perfumery. Hundreds, thousands of glass bottles filled with fragrance ingredients refracted cold light. I closed my eyes. My mind filled with images of Harrison and Violet. At the highest point of an amusement park, they kissed beneath fireworks. In a deep-sea submarine, they held hands tightly. At a snowy mountain peak, they watched the sunrise side by side. Those heart-stopping romances, those earth-shattering memories—none of them included me. The dropper in my hand hung in midair, unable to fall. For five years, the thing I did most with Harrison was walk in the garden. For Logan’s sake, I’d never even taken a single trip out of state. My memories were as barren as a desert. While Violet’s memories bloomed like a garden. That’s why he could forget me so completely, without any psychological burden. “This scent… why does it feel somehow familiar?” The door was suddenly pushed open. Harrison stood in the doorway, staring intently at a bottle of half-finished perfume on my desk. Pain filled his handsome face as he pressed hard against his temples.

After the car accident, whenever Harrison was exposed to scent stimulation, it triggered severe headaches. Instinctively, I set down the dropper and stood up to get his medication. But he suddenly grabbed my wrist in a death grip. The force was so strong it felt like he would crush my bones. “Don’t leave! Don’t leave me!” His eyes were bloodshot, his expression agonized. But the way he looked at me was like looking at a complete stranger. Who was he trying to hold onto through me? “Harrison! What’s wrong?!” Hearing the commotion, Violet rushed in frantically. Without a word, she shoved me hard. I lost my balance and my lower back slammed into the hard lab bench. A bottle of freshly extracted essential oil shattered on the floor, glass shards flying and cutting the back of my hand. Blood immediately seeped out. Seeing Violet appear, Harrison finally seemed like a drowning man grasping driftwood. He pulled her tightly into his arms. “Violet… medicine, I need my medicine! Second drawer… white bottle…” Violet frantically pulled open the drawer. Inside were medicine bottles of various colors and sizes. She was nearly crying. “Harrison, which one? There are so many white bottles here!” Of course she couldn’t find it. Harrison’s medicine had always been precisely measured and prepared by me each day, placed in individual containers. To prevent him from developing resistance to taking medication, I hid the pills inside various unflavored capsules he could accept. The chasm of five years lay there, bloody and raw. Violet bit her red lip and turned to glare at me with hatred. “Are you just going to stand there?! Hurry up and bring the medicine!” Expressionless, I stepped around the mess on the floor. From the most hidden compartment, I took out a pill, poured a glass of warm water, and handed it over. After taking the medicine, Harrison’s breathing gradually steadied. But Violet’s eyes reddened, tears streaming down her face. “Harrison, I’m sorry. I didn’t even know where you keep your medicine…” Harrison’s heart broke for her. He pressed her against his chest, coaxing her softly. “Baby, don’t cry. Even though you weren’t by my side these five years, no one except you could enter my heart.” He glanced at me coldly, like looking at disgusting trash. “She’s just a caregiver paid to do a job. Once these few days are over, I’ll make her disappear forever. I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for these five years of regret. From now on, I only want you.” Blood from the back of my hand dripped onto the floor, drop by drop. It hurt. But compared to the pain of having a piece of my heart violently carved out, it was nothing. I leaned against the cold wall. Watching this couple embrace so tenderly with cold eyes. So these five years that meant everything to me were just a regret to him. A regret without Violet in it. I covered my bleeding hand and silently turned to continue cleaning the shards on the lab bench. Unexpectedly, after comforting Violet, Harrison actually returned. Seeing my pale face and bleeding hand, there wasn’t a trace of emotion in his eyes. Only cold urging. “Can you still continue with the fragrance? Violet hopes to use it at tomorrow’s engagement party. No one knows how important this engagement is to me.” I knew. I picked up a cloth and wiped the bloodstains from the counter bit by bit. I didn’t even look up. “Don’t worry. Since I promised you, I’ll finish it.” Perhaps even if Harrison hadn’t lost his memory, this would still be my final outcome. The unloved—even their breathing is wrong. Five stolen years would eventually have to be returned with interest.

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I was participating in a live escape room show with my movie star husband when he suddenly disappeared. As I searched anxiously with my pregnant belly, I heard a voice from the baby inside: [Mommy, don’t worry! That bastard dad is hiding in the prop coffin kissing Sophia Reed!] I froze. The baby in my belly could actually talk? [They want to trick you into the haunted house to scare you into a miscarriage, so Sophia can take your place!] [But Sophia has claustrophobia—she won’t last long in there!] I let out a cold laugh and immediately called everyone over: “Everyone, come to this room! There’s a clue here!” My husband didn’t know yet that he was born under an unlucky star, and all these years his bad luck had only been suppressed by my good fortune. Since he wanted to harm me, I’d let him go back to being the unlucky bastard he was meant to be. “Vivian, what clue did you find?” The show’s guests immediately crowded into the room when they heard there was a clue. I pointed at the coffin in front of me and analyzed: “There are nine rooms total, and they’re all basically the same. Only this room has an extra coffin.” “Maybe the key to the plot is in this coffin.” Just then, the little one’s voice rang out again: [Ahhhhh Mommy! What’s in the coffin is so disgusting!] [Bastard dad and that homewrecker Sophia aren’t wearing any clothes!] [Really, nothing at all! And they’re kissing again!] [Sophia’s even saying how exciting it is—Mommy, does that sound right to you?!] I raised my hand and rubbed my belly. How did this three-month-old thing know so much? This escape room variety show was the platform’s major project of the year. They’d even installed large screens in every room to display live comments in real-time. There were six guests this episode. My husband Adrian and I, young actress Sophia Reed, boy band members Marcus Flame and Lucas North, plus veteran actor Samuel Waters. The storyline was about a bride who mysteriously disappeared during the Civil War era. Samuel came over for a look: “Does this mean the bride is already dead?” I nodded. “That’s what I think too. Plus this room has a vanity table.” “Look over there—flowers, a veil. This might be her bridal chamber.” Comments scrolled across the big screen: [Vivian is so smart, analyzing everything even with that baby bump] [No wonder she’s a top student, her brain really works] [Yeah, but where did Adrian go? The movie star disappeared a while ago] [Sophia’s gone too] [Did they get separated? This escape room is pretty scary] I glanced at the coffin from the corner of my eye. The lid was sealed tight—nothing looked unusual from the outside. Marcus asked: “Vivian, what should we do now?” I looked around. “Let’s search this room first. There should be clues.” Samuel nodded. “Right, everyone split up and look. See if the bride left anything behind.” The two guys immediately spread out—one checking the vanity, one looking in the wardrobe. I stood still. My eyes kept drifting to that coffin. The lid remained sealed tight. Nothing visible from the outside. [Mommy, aren’t you going to expose them?] The baby’s voice carried a hint of confusion. [They’re so bad! You should embarrass them in front of everyone!] [Let everyone see what bastard dad and Sophia are doing in that coffin!] I rubbed my belly and thought quietly: “No rush.” [Huh?] “We’ll open it when there are more people around. Better effect that way.” [Wow! Mommy, you’re so evil! I love it!] “We’ve checked everywhere else. Just this coffin left.” Marcus swallowed hard. “Vivian, this coffin… should we open it?” Samuel was also looking at me, his eyes questioning. The baby’s voice rang out again. [Mommy! Bastard dad and Sophia are freaking out!] [Sophia’s claustrophobia kicked in. She’s shaking all over, keeps saying “I can’t take it anymore, I need to get out”] [Bastard dad keeps telling her to hold on just a little longer, they’ll leave soon] [He heard you talking about opening the coffin and now his face is green, he can barely breathe!] I rubbed my belly, both amused and exasperated. This little thing, really…

I cleared my throat. “Don’t open it yet.” I wasn’t ready to end this farce so quickly. Marcus and Lucas both breathed a sigh of relief. Neither of them really wanted to open that coffin anyway. After all, this escape room was creepy enough. Who knew what might jump out of a coffin? I slowly walked over to the coffin. The lid fit perfectly—nothing visible from outside. But I could imagine what those two inside looked like right now. Adrian barely daring to breathe, his legs so weak he could barely stand. Sophia curled up next to him, trembling all over. They must be praying for us to leave quickly. I raised my hand and knocked on the coffin lid. Knock, knock, knock. A muffled thud suddenly came from inside, like someone had bumped into the coffin wall. Marcus jumped. “What was that sound?” I pulled my hand back, looking thoughtful. “I have a feeling there’s something not quite right in this coffin. Let’s listen to what’s going on inside.” The baby laughed hysterically: [Ha ha ha ha ha Mommy you’re so evil!] [Bastard dad just jerked backward and hit his head on the coffin wall—now he’s got a bump!] [Sophia got knocked sideways and her face smashed right where you knocked!] “Knock again?” Lucas was eager to try. I nodded. Lucas stepped forward and knocked on the coffin lid a few times, mimicking me. Knock knock knock. Rustling sounds came from inside the coffin, like someone desperately trying to shrink away. “There’s movement!” Lucas got excited. “There really is something inside!” Marcus also leaned in, pressing his ear against the coffin lid. He lowered his voice. “I think I hear breathing!” Samuel frowned. “Could it be a prop the production crew set up? One of those moving mannequins?” I said: “Possibly, but it could be something else.” “What we can confirm is that this room was the last place the bride appeared.” Marcus scratched his head. “But what if there are clues in the other rooms too?” I nodded. “So I suggest we split into two groups.” “One group searches the remaining eight rooms for clues, one group stays here on guard.” Lucas was eager. “Marcus and I will search! Young people have quick legs!” Samuel looked at me. “Then we’ll stay and watch their progress on the big screen.” Only Samuel and I remained in the room, along with that coffin. Comments kept scrolling on the big screen: [They split up, they split up] [Go Marcus and Lucas] [Wait, only Vivian and Samuel are left in this room?] [So where did Adrian and Sophia actually go?] [Right! Our Sophia baby hasn’t had a single shot!] [Maybe they triggered some hidden storyline!] [Didn’t you see the movie star isn’t around either? Must be a side quest] Samuel walked to the big screen and pulled up Marcus and Lucas’s viewpoints. The screen split into eight small boxes, corresponding to the remaining eight rooms. Marcus and Lucas were searching through boxes and cabinets looking for clues. I walked over beside him to watch the screen together. The baby’s voice popped up again, as excited as if watching a soap opera. [Mommy, mommy! Bastard dad and Sophia are fighting!] [Sophia’s cursing at bastard dad, saying it’s all his fault for insisting they hide in the coffin, and now look—people are guarding outside and they can’t get out!] [Bastard dad asked what can we do then, should we go out now? How would we explain it?] [Sophia said I really feel terrible! This coffin is too small, I really can’t breathe!] [Bastard dad asked what do you want then? Go out now?] [Sophia said… hold me, if you hold me I won’t feel so bad.] [Then bastard dad hugged her.] [Mommy, they’re kissing again.] [This time the kissing sounds are really loud, like little pigs eating.]

When Adrian and I got together, I was already a popular rising actress. He was still struggling in the lowest ranks. Worrying about making a living every day. When he went to auditions, I ironed his shirts for him. When he failed screen tests, I pulled strings everywhere trying to get him opportunities. His career stagnated, so I consulted fortune tellers to read his fortune. That’s when I found out Adrian was born under an unlucky star, destined for bad luck his whole life. If I wanted to help him, I could only use my own good fortune to suppress his bad luck. Over the years, for Adrian’s career development, I gradually withdrew from show business to be the woman behind him. But I never expected he would betray me. Even during a live broadcast, in front of viewers across the country, hiding in a coffin having an affair. I looked down at my belly. Five months along. This little thing inside knew everything. [Mommy, don’t be sad.] [That bastard dad doesn’t deserve your sadness.] [You still have me!] I smiled slightly. That’s right. I still have you. Footsteps came from the doorway. Marcus and Lucas returned, both looking dejected. Marcus scratched his head. “We turned all eight rooms upside down and found nothing.” Lucas looked frustrated too. “Yeah, not a single clue.” Comments started scrolling: [So where are the clues?] [Can’t all be in this room] [Only the coffin left unopened in here] [Open it! Open the coffin!] Samuel frowned, staring at the coffin for a long time: “We haven’t been able to find any clues. Should we open the coffin?” As soon as he said this, Marcus and Lucas both looked at me. I shook my head. “On the contrary. We absolutely cannot open the coffin.” Samuel was stunned. “Why not?” I pointed around us. “Don’t you think it’s strange? There are no clues in this room.” “Even the other eight rooms were empty—nothing found there either.” Lucas didn’t understand. “So?” I looked at the coffin and spoke slowly: “This production crew is crafty. They deliberately didn’t give us clues.” “It’s to manipulate us into opening the coffin.” Samuel’s eyes lit up. “You mean opening the coffin is a trap?” I nodded. “Think about the escape room’s plot. What is it?” “The bride disappeared, her spirit restless. If we open the coffin under these circumstances, what will happen?” Marcus’s expression changed. “It will… trigger something bad?” I said: “Definitely. Maybe as soon as the coffin opens, the plot enters a dead end.” “Or it triggers some horror mechanism that traps us all here.” [Makes sense!] [Vivian’s right!] [The production crew definitely dug a trap] [Can’t fall for it!] [Absolutely don’t open it!] [Let them play by themselves!] Samuel nodded thoughtfully. “Now that you put it that way, it’s very possible.” “These escape rooms often have such traps—looks like a clue but it’s actually a pit.” Marcus slapped his thigh. “Right! They want us to open the coffin, but we’re going to seal it instead!” Lucas got excited too. “Right! Seal it! Let them play by themselves!” As soon as he finished speaking, he suddenly remembered something, his eyes lighting up: “I saw nails and a hammer earlier!” Marcus got excited too. “Really? Where?” “In the storage room, there was a pile of tools. I wondered about it at the time—turns out they were prepared for us!” Lucas said this and ran out. Marcus shouted after him: “Bring more! Bring more nails too!” The baby said in a sweet little voice: [Sophia panicked as soon as she heard about sealing the coffin!] [Bastard dad’s face went white too. He’s shaking his head frantically, trying to reassure himself it won’t happen.] [Sophia keeps saying, I regret this, I really regret this] Before long, Lucas came running back, panting, arms full of things. “Got them, got them!” He dumped everything on the floor: an iron hammer, a box of nails, and even a wooden board. Marcus’s eyes lit up. “Even a board?” Samuel hesitated. “Are we really going to nail it? Won’t we damage the coffin?” “If it breaks, it breaks.” Marcus rolled up his sleeves. “The production crew didn’t give us any clues anyway. We’ll just do the opposite of what they want!” Lucas was eager too. “Let them set their traps! We just won’t fall for them!” Marcus picked up the hammer, Lucas held the board steady on the side. “Bang!” The first nail went in.

A muffled sound came from inside the coffin. Marcus froze. “What was that?” Lucas heard it too. “Probably the props vibrating.” The nails went in one by one. The noises from inside the coffin grew louder and louder. Thud thud thud, bang bang bang, like someone beating a drum inside. Marcus muttered as he hammered: “These props are really high quality, they even respond with sounds.” Lucas nodded. “Yeah, seems so realistic.” The last nail went in. Marcus nodded with satisfaction. “There. Now let’s see how they can trick us into opening it.” Lucas laughed too. “We’re just not playing by their rules!” Samuel clapped. “Well done!” I smiled too. The baby’s voice rang out, with a hint of confusion: [Mommy, why isn’t Sophia making any sound?] [Looks like she passed out.] [Bastard dad was just calling her name, shaking her, trying to revive her, but she’s not responding.] [And guess what?] [Bastard dad actually breathed a sigh of relief!] [He thinks Sophia finally won’t be a burden anymore!] [Now he’s alone, curled up in a corner of the coffin, trying to minimize his presence, thinking he’ll sneak out after you all leave.] [Mommy, he’s so scary.] I rubbed my belly. He could abandon even me, his wife who’d shared his hardships. How could he care about a mistress? In his eyes, everyone was just a tool. Sophia had just been with him having an affair, giving him thrills. Now she’d fainted, become a burden, so he just tossed her aside. Just then, the loudspeaker suddenly crackled to life. It was the director’s voice. “You idiots! I just went to the bathroom and you caused this much trouble!” Marcus froze, looking at the speaker. Lucas was confused too. Samuel opened his mouth. “Director?” The director’s voice continued, urgent and angry: “That coffin is borrowed! It’s a prop from the crew next door! They need it tomorrow!” [Borrowed???] [Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha] [So this coffin isn’t part of the escape room?] [It’s a prop borrowed from another crew??] The director’s voice continued: “Staff! Get over there and take it apart!” “Open the coffin lid! Don’t damage it! We can’t afford to pay for it!” A flurry of footsteps. Several staff members rushed in, circling around the coffin. “The nails! How did the nails get in so deep?” “Hammer! Quick, get the hammer!” “These nails are too deep, they won’t come out!” “Crowbar! Go find a crowbar!” The room descended into chaos. Marcus and Lucas stood to the side, looking innocent. Samuel coughed quietly and said: “Director, we didn’t know it was borrowed…” The staff were still trying to pry the coffin open. Several people working together, the coffin lid was finally pried open a crack. “It’s open, it’s open! Push harder!” The coffin lid was lifted little by little.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “372032”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn #浪漫Romance

Damien Lancaster kept me for twelve years. Everyone in his circle called me his pet. Beautiful, obedient, never making a fuss. The women by his side changed constantly, but I was always there. He didn’t love me, but he was used to having me around. He even let me carry his triplet sons. The moment they were born, they were sent overseas. Then came that rainy night. I held a simple silver ring in my palm. “Damien, I’m getting married. He knows I’ve had children. I just want a normal life.” He glanced at the ring and let out a quiet laugh. “That delivery guy?” The next second, he tossed the ring into a pot of boiling coffee and pulled me into a fierce kiss. “Who said you could leave me? You’ll always be mine.” Vivian’s POV Damien kept me for twelve years. Everyone in his circle called me his pet. Beautiful, obedient, never making a fuss. The women by his side changed constantly, but I was always there. Damien didn’t like me. But he was used to having me around. He even let me bear his children. I was pregnant with triplets and gave birth to three boys. The moment they were born, they were sent abroad, raised by a top-tier childcare team. I was the kind of mother who had to beg for permission to see her own children. Everyone said that as long as I held on, I would become Mrs. Lancaster one day. That evening, the Lancaster family hosted their first party of early winter. Damien held his new flame in his arms, the famous actress Serena Sterling. Serena was delicate. She’d barely made it through one round of socializing in her four-inch heels before she was already frowning, whining about her feet. “Damien, my feet are killing me…” Her voice was soft, sugary, and perfectly pitched to turn every head in the room. Damien chuckled softly, but his gaze passed through the crowd and landed on me in the corner. I stood there holding his backup suit. “Vivian.” He called my name, his tone indifferent, as if summoning a servant. I walked over with my eyes lowered. “Mr. Lancaster.” Damien pointed at Serena’s feet, then glanced at mine. “Take off your shoes. Give them to her.” The surrounding noise seemed to quiet in that instant. Countless spectators turned their gazes on me. Serena and I were about the same height, with the same shoe size. Serena looked surprised, then covered her mouth and laughed. She looked very pleased with herself. If I refused, I would publicly embarrass Damien. If I complied, I would tear off my own dignity and lay it on the ground for people to trample. But I didn’t hesitate. I bent down and quickly unfastened my shoes. “Serena, these heels are only two inches, with sheepskin soles. They shouldn’t hurt your feet.” I stood barefoot on the cold floor, crouched down, and considerately helped her put them on. Serena stood up and turned in a circle, then linked her arm through Damien’s with satisfaction. “Damien spoils me the most.” From start to finish, Damien never looked at me once. He just pinched Serena’s waist and praised me for being so sensible. Then he led Serena to the dance floor. I stood there alone, barefoot. The cold crept up from the soles of my feet, drilling straight into my bones, making me shiver all over. Others laughed without bothering to hide it. “I heard Damien and Serena Sterling are getting married. This adopted girl’s good days are probably over.” “What a good dog. The master says take off your shoes, and she takes them off without any complaint.” I lowered my head, looking at my reddened toes, and silently shrank back into the corner. Actually, they got it wrong. It wasn’t that my good days were over. It wasn’t that I was about to be kicked out. It was that I didn’t want Damien anymore. My hand slipped into my pocket, tightly gripping an ordinary ring. It was from another man. Even if the ending was bleak, I had to leave this lunatic Damien.

Vivian’s POV Damien seemed to be in a good mood. After the party ended, he took a shower and sat lazily on the sofa, teasing his cat with a toy. The ragdoll cat pounced around playfully, going crazy. I was like that cat. He’d been toying with me using money and power for twelve years. I brought him a glass of water and set it by his hand. My fingers were stiff from prolonged exposure to the cold. Damien frowned. “Damien.” I stood to the side with my hands at my sides, my voice soft but clear. “I want to move out.” Damien’s hand didn’t stop teasing the cat. He didn’t even lift an eyelid. “Because of those shoes? “Serena is a guest, and a big star. You wouldn’t want to see her embarrassed, would you? “Tomorrow I’ll have my assistant take you to pick out some new ones.” His tone was casual. He didn’t even lift an eyelid. “It’s not about the shoes.” I took out a ring and laid it open in my palm. It was from Adrian Grant, bought with three months of his savings. It was everything he could give me. “I’m getting married.” I looked at Damien’s profile and said calmly. “He doesn’t mind that I’ve had children… I want to marry him and live a normal life.” The air froze for an instant. The cat toy stopped at the cat’s nose. The ragdoll let out a sharp cry. Damien finally turned his head, his gaze falling on the ring. Two seconds later, he laughed softly. “Marriage? With that delivery guy?” He knew, of course. My whereabouts had never been a secret to him. He stood up, walked over to me, and picked up the ring with two fingers in disgust. “Vivian, have you lost your mind? Throwing away everything the Lancasters gave you to play house with some delivery guy?” “Could his whole paycheck even buy you one sock?” “No, but he treats me like a human being.” I stared into his eyes without backing down. The smile faded from Damien’s face. His eyes instantly turned sinister. He released his hand. The ring dropped into the boiling coffee pot beside him. The scalding water churned. That tiny silver circle was instantly swallowed by the murky coffee. “If you want to debase yourself, suit yourself.” Damien pulled out a tissue and methodically wiped the fingers that had just touched the ring, as if they’d been contaminated by something filthy. “You can leave if you want. Get out right now.” “But Vivian, have you forgotten something?” He casually picked up a tablet, opened a video call, and tossed it on the coffee table. On the screen were three identical little boys wrestling around a castle of building blocks. Those were my sons. Damien bent down, waved at the children on the screen, and a cruel smile curved his lips. “Say goodbye to Mommy.” “She thinks you’re a burden and is running off with another man. From now on, you won’t have a mother anymore.”

Vivian’s POV The three children on the screen froze. They were only four years old. They didn’t understand what “another man” meant, but they understood “won’t have a mother anymore.” The oldest pursed his lips. The building blocks in his hands fell to the floor. He burst into loud tears. Then the second, then the third. Their heartrending cries came through the speaker like a saw cutting through my nerves. I instinctively lunged forward to grab the tablet. But Damien was faster. His slender fingers tapped lightly and ended the video call. The crying stopped abruptly. Damien crossed his legs and looked leisurely at my hand frozen in midair. “Does it hurt now?” He lit a cigarette. The blue-white smoke blurred his cold eyes. “Vivian, you can’t be too greedy. You want so-called true love and you want the Lancaster children too? Where does that exist?” I bit my lip hard until I tasted the metallic tang of blood. I knew he was forcing me. He was waiting for me to kneel and beg him like before, or cry and say I wouldn’t leave. But this time, Adrian Grant’s eyes-bloodshot yet still determined-floated into my mind. He said, “Vivian, don’t look back.” I took a deep breath, withdrew my hand, and even managed an ugly smile. “You’re right, Damien. If I don’t want them, then I’ll cut ties completely.” With that, I turned and headed upstairs. Behind me came the sound of a glass being violently smashed. But I didn’t stop. News traveled fast. Early the next morning, Damien’s mother arrived. The elegant lady who usually only appeared at charity galas was now sitting on my bed, earnestly holding my hand. “Vivian, you’re being foolish.” She sighed, her well-maintained face full of disapproval. “The Lancaster family raised you. Without the Lancaster family’s money, you would have starved to death in the orphanage long ago. “Damien is playful, yes, but which of those women around him can surpass you? The three grandsons are the heirs of the Lancaster family. You’re their biological mother. As long as you’re obedient, who else could be Mrs. Lancaster besides you?” I’d heard these words at the Lancaster house for twelve years. Like invisible threads, they’d sewn me into a puppet of the Lancaster family. “I’m done waiting.” I pulled out a red piece of cardstock from under my pillow. It was a hand-drawn wedding invitation from Adrian Grant. The paper was ordinary, but the letters were cut neatly and carefully. “Next month on the fifth, I hope you can attend my wedding.” Mrs. Lancaster’s expression darkened instantly. The hand holding mine withdrew sharply. “You’re humiliating the Lancaster family!” “Who gave you the right to think the Lancaster family would attend such a shabby wedding?” A mocking voice came from the doorway. Damien leaned against the doorframe, still reeking of last night’s alcohol. He strode in and snatched the invitation from my hand. With just one glance, the disgust in his eyes deepened. “This handwriting is really ugly.” “Adrian wrote every word himself.” I tried to grab it back, but he pressed down on my shoulder with one hand, rendering me immobile. Damien sneered. The red cardstock tore in half in his hands. “If you’re going to leave, don’t bring this trash into the Lancaster house.” Damien pointed at the door, his eyes cold. “Except for the bones in your body, you’re not allowed to take anything that belongs to the Lancaster family.”

Vivian’s POV Mrs. Lancaster beside him picked up her coffee cup and took a delicate sip. “You want to leave?” Damien suddenly laughed. “Vivian, have you forgotten that the Lancaster family paid to raise you? Without the Lancaster family’s money, you wouldn’t exist.” “Since you want to settle accounts, let’s do it by contract.” A faint smile curved Damien’s lips, but his eyes were ice cold. “After supporting you all this time, you should at least leave some breach-of-contract penalty before you go.” I didn’t understand what he meant. But I soon found out. The next evening, the butler brought me a revealing outfit and told me to put it on. Then I was sent to a club. He said Mr. Warren was waiting for me. My heart instantly sank. Mr. Warren was notorious in their circle-vile and crude. Many girls had ended up in the hospital because of him. Before, with Damien protecting me, no one dared touch me. Now, he was personally delivering me. He was doing this on purpose. When I pushed open the door, Damien had his arm around Serena. He saw me enter but didn’t even lift an eyelid. Mr. Warren’s eyes lit up when he saw me. His greasy gaze stuck to my exposed back. “Is this the canary Damien kept? Truly a beauty.” Mr. Warren walked over with two full glasses of hard liquor, practically shoving them in my face. “Since Damien is willing to part with you, we’d better drink properly tonight.” I instinctively looked at Damien. He was lowering his head to light Serena’s cigarette. The flame illuminated his cold profile as if everything happening here had nothing to do with him. As if I was about to be devoured alive by this pig in the next second. I gave up hope. I took the harsh liquor and tilted my head back to down it. My stomach burned painfully, but compared to the chill in my heart, it was nothing. “Good! Bold!” Mr. Warren’s hand slid to my waist, his damp palm moving under the fabric, the implication clear. “Vivian, you drank that fast. In a hurry, are we?” Laughter erupted around us. Someone egged him on. “Mr. Warren, you’re getting handsy already? Aren’t you afraid Damien will mind?” Damien finally looked up. He played with a metal lighter in his hand and glanced at me with a half-smile. “Mind what? If she doesn’t want to be part of the Lancaster family, she’s just a call girl. “As long as Mr. Warren’s happy, do whatever you want with her.” That sentence was the final blow to my dignity. Mr. Warren completely lost his reservations. His fat hand began forcefully pulling at my straps. Riiip. The sound of tearing fabric was especially harsh in the private room. I struggled desperately, but Mr. Warren pinned me down on the sofa. His alcohol-soaked breath sprayed on my face, making me want to vomit. “Playing innocent? Damien already gave the word. You really think you’re still that high-and-mighty Miss Vivian?” Despair swallowed me like a flood. Just as that filthy hand was about to touch my chest, I grabbed the ashtray from the table and smashed it down hard. Crash! Blood splattered. Mr. Warren screamed and rolled to the floor clutching his head. The private room fell deathly silent. Everyone was stunned. Only Damien sat there and laughed softly. His laughter was chilling, making one’s hair stand on end. He stood up, kicked aside the still-wailing Mr. Warren, and walked over to me, stepping on the broken glass. He gripped my chin and forced me to look up at him. “Is this the freedom you wanted?” “Without me, you don’t even have the right to be someone’s accessory.”

Vivian’s POV I looked at Mr. Warren clutching his bleeding head. He was completely dazed. But he was shrewd enough to survive in this circle. Even though he was in excruciating pain, he didn’t dare curse at Damien. He just stared fearfully at the man still holding half a bottle, his voice trembling. “D-Damien, didn’t you say… I could do whatever I wanted…” “Yes, I did say that.” Damien dropped the glass fragments and accepted a handkerchief from a bodyguard, methodically wiping his fingertips that hadn’t even gotten dirty. He even smiled slightly, his tone as gentle as chatting with an old friend. “But I didn’t say you could break my property.” He walked up to Mr. Warren and looked down at that greasy face. “The Lancaster family spent a fortune packaging her. You made her cry. How should we settle this account?” Mr. Warren’s face turned ashen. I could see he understood. “I’ll pay! I’ll compensate! Damien, please spare me…” Damien didn’t look at him again. He simply waved his hand lightly. Two bodyguards immediately stepped forward and silently dragged the still-pleading Mr. Warren out. Mr. Warren struggled and screamed. The private room fell silent. Damien turned around, his gaze falling on me. I huddled miserably in the corner, disheveled and trembling all over. He walked over and reached for the ashtray in my hand. I instinctively flinched. “What? Going to hit me too?” He raised an eyebrow. “That was a decent fight just now. Shows some Lancaster ruthlessness.” “But have you gotten one thing wrong?” He forcibly pried open my fingers and threw the ashtray into the trash. He reached out to smooth my disheveled hair. His movements were gentle yet carried a careless cruelty. His fingertips were ice cold, sliding across my collarbone, causing a shiver. “My possessions-only I can discipline them. “When others touch them even once, they pay a price. “But that doesn’t mean you can resist me.” He chuckled softly, his fingertip brushing the corner of my mouth that was still bleeding. “Besides me, who else would treasure you like this?” Seeing me bite my lip without speaking, the smile in his eyes faded a bit. He glanced at the hard liquor on the table, his tone eerie. “Drink all of these, and I’ll forgive your ignorance today.” “Remember, every sip you drink, every penny you spend, belongs to the Lancaster family.” “If you want to leave, settle this account first.” I looked at him. He sat on the sofa, watching me leisurely. Serena nestled in his arms, also watching me quietly with amusement in her eyes. He was serious. Unless I was dead, I couldn’t walk out that door. “Fine.” Without hesitation, I grabbed a bottle and tilted my head back to pour it down my throat. The first bottle. The second bottle. The harsh liquid burned my esophagus. My stomach churned violently. I rushed to the bathroom and vomited until I was dizzy. Bile mixed with blood streaks poured out. But I wiped my mouth, supported myself against the wall, walked back out, and picked up the third bottle. Damien sat there the whole time. Through the smoke, his expression was dark and unreadable. Until I picked up the fifth bottle. My hands shook so badly I couldn’t hold it. Liquor spilled all over me. Crash. I couldn’t hold the bottle. It fell to the floor and shattered. I knelt on the ground, trying to pick up the glass shards still dripping with liquor, wanting to clean them up. A shoe stepped on my hand. Damien looked down at me, not a trace of anger on his face. His voice maintained that suffocating calm. “Vivian, you’ll be a Lancaster family asset for the rest of your life.” He crouched down to look at me, his eyes a barren wasteland of indifference. “If you drink yourself to death, what will you use to pay your debt?” “Someone, take her back.” He stood up, his tone light. “If she dies here, the children won’t have a mother anymore.” At the mention of the children, I stiffened. He looked with satisfaction at the fear in my eyes and stood up. “Take her back.” He turned and walked out, his back straight and cold. “If she’s not dead, keep her locked up.” “When she’s healed, we’ll settle accounts slowly.”

Vivian’s POV I was carried back to the villa by bodyguards. My stomach still burned. My throat was full of that metallic taste. Damien was using disinfectant wipes to clean each finger. As if the person who’d just forced me to drink until I vomited in that private room wasn’t him. “Sobered up?” His gaze swept over my disheveled appearance and finally stopped at my long hair. He used to love my long hair the most. Every month he took me for treatments. Even the shampoo was imported. He often said this hair felt like silk and had a nice texture. “Since you’re not dead, let’s continue settling accounts.” “You can take those shabby clothes, but anything that belongs to the Lancaster family must stay.” I stood there. The alcohol made my head fuzzy, but I understood what he meant. I lowered my head and began removing my earrings, necklace, and bracelets. Finally, I wore only a thin camisole. “What else?” Damien didn’t tell me to stop. He walked up to me, his slender fingers winding around a lock of hair. “This hair, this skin-which part wasn’t bought with my money?” He leaned close to me, his tone so gentle it was terrifying. “Vivian, if you want to make a clean break, do it properly.” “Taking things I paid to maintain to that man-it makes me sick.” He turned around and took a paper cutter from the drawer under the coffee table. He threw the blade at my feet. “Cut it all off cleanly, and I’ll let you get lost.” I looked at the blade, then at Damien’s emotionless eyes. He was betting I would kneel and beg him. But I bent down and picked up the blade. Without any hesitation. The blade pressed against the roots of my hair, ice cold and bone-chilling. Black strands fell to the floor in large clumps. I hacked away carelessly. The blade cut my scalp. Blood beads seeped out, but I couldn’t feel the pain. I saw the expression on Damien’s face finally crack. He stared at the severed hair on the floor, the hair he’d carefully maintained for twelve years. “Enough!” Just as I was about to cut the last strand, he seized my wrist fiercely. He looked at my hacked-off hair, a towering rage surging in his eyes. It was the rage of a man whose favorite possession had been ruined. “You told me to cut it.” I looked at him, my voice hoarse and calm. “Damien, is it clean enough now?” “Can I leave?” Damien was silent for a moment. Then he sneered and flung my hand away. His voice was sinister. “Get out now!” I didn’t linger at all. I casually threw on an old coat and pushed open the door. Barefoot, I walked into that cold winter night without looking back. Damien, loving you was my biggest mistake.

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Xander Shaw said Luna reminds him of the old me. Innocent. Stubborn. Full of wild spirit He even twisted the knife with a smile. “She’s got more tricks in bed than you do. You’re just a dead fish when it comes to sex.” All because that girl likes cats. So he cut off my sister’s medical funds to open a stray animal shelter for Luna. I begged him to save my sister, but he pried my hands away. “Stop making a scene. Your sister’s just a living corpse.” The moment my sister’s heart monitor flatlined, I dialed his sworn enemy’s number. “Paxton, help me make him wish he were dead.” A low laugh came from the other end. “I can help you, but on one condition. You have to marry me.” Sophia’s POV Today is my twenty-seventh birthday. I’d been Xander Shaw’s cherished wife for five years, and tonight’s birthday party was as lavish as it got. Nearly half of London’s elite showed up, everyone praising Xander’s devotion, complimenting me on having such a wonderful husband. I held my champagne glass, smiling as I made small talk with the guests. “Mrs. Shaw, why hasn’t Mr. Shaw arrived yet?” Someone asked with a smile. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was eight-thirty in the evening. The party had already been going for half an hour. “He had a last-minute international video conference at the company. It’s wrapping up now.” I answered with a smile. But only I knew how pathetic the truth really was. I’d sent Xander three messages and called him twice. Complete radio silence. Just then, a commotion erupted at the entrance to the ballroom. My heart relaxed slightly as I lifted my dress and turned around, but when I saw clearly, I froze in my tracks. Xander had arrived. But he hadn’t come alone. The man wore a sharply tailored black custom suit, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, his features as cold and sharp as a blade. And hanging on his arm was a girl in a cheap T-shirt and jeans, soaking wet from head to toe. The girl looked no more than twenty years old, her hair in complete disarray, clutching a stray cat tightly in her arms, her doe-like eyes staring at the opulent hall in terror. This wasn’t just inappropriate. It was sabotage. The entire room fell dead silent. My fingers trembled slightly as I quickly walked forward. Before I could speak, Xander frowned first, removing his six-figure suit jacket and wrapping it around the shivering girl. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” I asked softly. “Ran into an emergency.” Xander’s voice was flat, not even glancing at me once, his gaze fixed entirely on the girl. “Her name is Luna. She got clipped by a car while rescuing a cat on the roadside. I took her to the hospital, and on the way stopped by to treat her wound.” On the way? Xander was severely germophobic too. In the past, if I so much as glanced at a stray dog on the street, he’d frown and tell me to go disinfect. Now, he was letting a girl covered in mud and water dirty his expensive shirt? “Today is my birthday party.” I reminded him. “I know.” Xander finally looked up at me. His expression was calm, calm to the point of cruelty. “Sophia, have the maid take her to a guest room to change. Also, call the family doctor over.” His tone was completely commanding. All around us were watching eyes. The envy in those society ladies’ gazes had now turned entirely to mockery. “Xander.” I didn’t move, instead looking at this man I’d loved for ten years. “Do you know what you’re doing?” The girl shrank into Xander’s arms in fright, her voice tearful. “Mr. Shaw… am I causing you trouble? I’ll leave right now…” That single “Mr. Shaw” instantly softened Xander’s expression. He reached out to steady the girl’s shoulder, and in front of all the guests, in front of me, he said softly, “Don’t move. Your wound will open up. As long as I’m here, who dares make you leave?” I felt a ringing sound in my ears. “Mr. Shaw.” Ten years ago, when Xander was eighteen and still a poor nobody, I was seventeen. We’d eat canned soup together in his basement. I used to playfully call him “Mr. Shaw” too, teasing him for being old-fashioned. What did Xander say back then? He’d tapped my nose, his eyes full of affection. “Sophia, you’re the only one allowed to call me that for the rest of my life.” Now, the exclusive nickname had a new owner. After soothing Luna, Xander turned to look at me, his brow furrowed, radiating impatience. “Sophia, you used to be magnanimous. Don’t stoop to a young girl’s level. It’s beneath you.” Beneath me. I felt my heart being squeezed by an invisible hand, crushed to pulp. I straightened my spine. “Fine. Since Mr. Shaw is here on a rescue mission, then this birthday party might as well end.” I took the microphone, turning to announce the party’s conclusion. My wrist was suddenly gripped. Xander’s hold was strong, pinching my bones painfully. He leaned close to my ear, using a voice only the two of us could hear, cold and final as a death sentence. “Sophia, stop making a scene. After tonight, we’re getting divorced.”

Sophia’s POV The party ended in disgrace. Outside, the rainstorm continued to pour. I sat in the back seat of the Maybach. The air pressure inside the car was suffocatingly low. Xander didn’t sit with me. He sat in the passenger seat, head down, replying to messages. The light from his phone screen illuminated his face with a kind of gentle vitality I hadn’t seen in a long time. “Because of her?” I broke the silence. He nodded, admitting it readily. “Yes.” “Why?” “Sophia, look at yourself in the mirror.” Xander lit a cigarette. Through the swirling smoke, his expression was blurred. “Look at what you’ve become. Dignified, perfect, like a programmed robot. You’ve lost that edge you used to have.” My nails dug into my palms. “What edge?” “That wild spirit.” Xander exhaled a smoke ring. “Meeting Luna reminded me. I fell in love with the Sophia who dared to smash a bottle over a harasser’s head. Not this version of you. This polished Mrs. Shaw who only knows how to arrange flowers, pick out dresses, and smile like a pageant queen.” I laughed. Laughed so hard tears nearly fell. These past five years, who made me take etiquette lessons? Who made me restrain my sharp edges for the Shaw family’s reputation? Who said, “Sophia, from now on I’ll handle the dirty work. You just need to be my clean, perfect princess”? He pulled out my thorns, clipped my wings, and locked me in a gilded cage. Now, he complained I couldn’t fly. “She’s a lot like I used to be, isn’t she?” I asked. “Very much so.” Xander admitted frankly. “Seeing her protect that cat in the rain, standing up to people-I felt something. That feeling, I can’t find it in you anymore.” “So that’s your excuse for cheating?” “It’s not cheating.” Xander corrected me, his tone matter-of-fact. “Sophia, our souls stopped resonating long ago. All I have left for you is obligation. Rather than torturing each other, we should let go. The villa is yours. I’ll give you a satisfactory alimony amount.” The car stopped at the entrance. Xander showed no intention of getting out. “I’m not going in. Luna is afraid of thunder. I need to go keep her company.” He said it so openly, as if he were just heading to a meeting. I sat in the darkness, looking at this man who once swore he’d protect me with his life. “Xander.” I called out to him as he was about to push the door open. “What is it?” “What if I don’t agree to the divorce?” Xander paused, then turned his head. Those eyes that once held such deep affection were now frozen over. “Sophia, don’t force my hand. You know my methods. Let’s part amicably and leave you with some dignity. Don’t burn through the last bit of goodwill between us.” The car door closed. A black umbrella opened as he strode into the rain, climbing into a Porsche that had been waiting by the roadside. That was Luna’s car. I watched the taillights of both cars disappear into the rainy night, slowly reaching up to touch the necklace around my neck. It was a pink diamond, worth a fortune. Xander had won it at auction last month and given it to me as a “warm-up gift.” Now it seemed clear-this wasn’t a gift at all. It was severance pay. I pushed the door open and stepped out. I didn’t bother with an umbrella. The icy rain instantly soaked through my expensive gown. My makeup ran, leaving me a complete mess. I walked into the empty villa. On the wall hung our enormous wedding photo. In the picture, Xander looked at me with eyes full of love. I walked over, grabbed the ashtray from the table, and hurled it at the photo with all my strength. The wedding portrait shattered. I crouched on the floor, hugging my knees, and finally allowed myself to cry.

Sophia’s POV I turned off my phone. I didn’t go to the office or return to the Shaw family estate. Xander didn’t come looking for me either. Over these three days, London’s headlines were all about Xander’s new love. “Mr. Shaw Books Entire Amusement Park Late Night to Make Mystery Girl Smile” “Mystery Cinderella Moves Into Shaw Mansion, Wedding Bells Soon?” In the photos, Luna wore Xander’s shirt, standing on his private yacht, laughing with wild abandon. Xander stood behind her, shielding her from the wind, his eyes so tender they could melt ice. Someone asked in the comments: What about Mrs. Shaw? The reply below: Who cares about that trophy wife anymore? I sat on a bench in the hospital, scrolling past these news stories. This was the intensive care unit. Through thick glass, my sister Aria Winter lay quietly inside. Tubes ran throughout her body, the ventilator rising and falling rhythmically. Seven years ago, my family, the Winter family went bankrupt. My parents jumped from a building. When those debt collectors burst in to drag me away as payment, it was fifteen-year-old Aria who charged at them with a knife. She was ultimately pushed down the stairs and left in a vegetative state. Aria Winter was my sister. For these seven years, Aria had been my entire reason for living. A single day in the ICU cost a fortune. When Xander proposed, he said. “Sophia, marry me. Aria will be like my own sister. I’ll hire the best doctors in the world and watch over her for life.” I believed him. For that promise, I endured his parents’ abuse, weathered high society’s cold stares, and transformed myself into the perfect version Xander wanted. But now… The attending physician approached, looking troubled. “This month’s treatment fees… Mr. Shaw has stopped payment.” I jerked my head up. “What?” “Mr. Shaw’s secretary just called. He said Mr. Shaw has frozen this expense from his personal account. If payment isn’t made by sunset today, they might have to… turn off the ventilator.” The doctor couldn’t bring himself to finish. I felt all the blood in my body flowing backward. He stopped the medical payments? Xander was forcing my hand. He knew I didn’t have much cash. I’d been Mrs. Shaw for years, but I’d never had a hand in the company’s money. My monthly allowance was decent, but most of it had gone toward an experimental imported treatment for Aria these past few months. He was using Aria’s life to force me to sign the divorce papers. “I understand.” I stood up. My vision went black for a moment. I steadied myself against the wall. “I’ll figure out the money. The medication absolutely cannot be stopped.” I pulled out my phone and turned it on. Countless messages popped up. I ignored the mockery and probing questions, dialing Xander’s number directly. It rang once before connecting. “Come to your senses?” Xander’s careless voice came through, background noise chaotic, like he was at a racetrack. “Xander, you can stop loving me. You can divorce me.” My voice was shaking. “But you cannot stop Aria’s medication! That’s her life!” “Sophia.” Xander let out a soft laugh. “Aria’s been asleep for seven years. Medical experts say her chances of waking are virtually zero. These seven years, I’ve spent hundreds of millions on her. I’ve done more than enough.” “You made a vow!” “Vows expire. So does love.” Xander’s voice turned cold. “Besides, I need that money for something more meaningful now.” “Something more meaningful?” “Luna wants to open a stray animal rescue center. The location is in the south district. The initial investment requires capital. Rather than throwing money into a bottomless pit maintaining a living corpse’s heartbeat, I’d rather support Luna’s dreams.” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. To open a pet shop for that replacement, he was going to unplug my sister’s ventilator? “Xander, you’re a bastard.” “Go ahead and curse. When you’re done, sign the divorce agreement.” Xander didn’t care at all. “Sign the papers, and I might consider extending the payments for three more months. Give you time to find your next meal ticket.” The call ended. I gripped my phone, speechless. Despair swallowed me like a tide. Just then, urgent footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor. A large group of medical staff rushed past pushing a mobile bed. Xander was right beside them, his face terrifyingly dark. I froze. That was… Luna? Luna lay on the bed, deathly pale, her forehead covered in blood. She appeared seriously injured. Xander saw me too, but his gaze didn’t linger for even a second. He immediately shouted at the doctors. “Hurry! Blood transfusion! She has a rare blood type. Does the blood bank still have inventory?” The hospital director rushed over, sweating profusely. “Mr. Shaw, bad timing! There was a multi-car pileup last night. All the rare blood type inventory was transferred! Getting more blood will take at least two hours. Miss Luna has lost so much blood, I’m afraid…” “Useless!” Xander kicked over a nearby trash can. Eyes bloodshot, he turned like a trapped beast scanning his surroundings. Finally, his gaze locked onto me. No, to be precise, it locked onto the ICU room behind me. My heart lurched. An unprecedented terror shot up my spine. Aria also had a rare blood type. The same blood type as Luna.

Sophia’s POV Xander walked toward me step by step. The oppressive force was suffocating. “Xander… what do you think you’re doing?” I stepped back, blocking the ICU door. “Move aside.” His voice was hoarse, brooking no argument. “You want to hurt Aria?” I stared at him in disbelief. “She just had major surgery less than a month ago! Her body is so weak-drawing blood could kill her!” “Only 400cc.” Xander stopped in front of me, looking down from his height. “Just 400cc will save her life.” “What about Aria? What happens to Aria?” I screamed. “She’s a vegetable! She has no ability to resist, and you’re going to exploit her like this?!” “She’s a living corpse!” Xander shouted back. “Sophia, wake up! Aria lying in there is just a breathing corpse! But Luna is a living person! She’s only twenty years old. She got hurt at the racetrack trying to save me! I can’t let her die!” “I won’t allow it!” I spread my arms, gripping the doorframe desperately. “Over my dead body will you touch a single hair on her head!” “Sophia!” Xander lost his patience. Behind us, a nurse’s panicked cry came from the operating room. “Patient’s blood pressure dropping! Heartbeat weakening!” The sound was like a death knell. The last trace of hesitation vanished from Xander’s eyes. He waved his hand. Two bodyguards immediately stepped forward. “Pull Mrs. Shaw away.” “Don’t touch me! Get away!” I struggled desperately, sinking my teeth into a bodyguard’s hand. Blood immediately flowed. The bodyguard yelped in pain and instinctively released me. I lunged forward, wrapping my arms around Xander’s legs, kneeling on the ground. “Xander, I’m begging you… I’ll stop making trouble. I’ll sign. I’ll sign the divorce papers right now! I’ll do whatever you say, just please spare Aria… She’s my only family left…” Xander looked down at me. For that instant, a flicker of reluctance crossed his eyes. But immediately, the nurse shouted again. “Mr. Shaw! She’s not going to make it!” That flicker of reluctance was instantly replaced by ruthlessness. “I’m sorry, Sophia.” Xander bent down, prying my fingers away one by one. “I’ll compensate you later.” “I don’t want compensation! I want Aria alive! Xander, you murderer! You’ll face retribution for this!” I screamed until my voice went hoarse. Xander ignored me and kicked the door open. “Doctor! Go in and draw blood! I’ll take responsibility for anything that happens!” The doctors hesitated, but under Xander’s intimidating pressure, they wheeled their equipment into the ICU. I was held back, forced to watch helplessly as the door closed. I saw the doctor roughly disconnect the lines attached to Aria’s body. I saw that thick needle pierce my sister’s emaciated arm. Dark red blood flowed through the tube. They were draining Aria’s life away. I stopped struggling. I collapsed to the floor, staring at the harsh fluorescent lights on the ceiling. My heart died. In that moment, the Sophia who had loved Xander for ten years died completely.

Sophia’s POV The blood draw lasted ten minutes. Those ten minutes felt longer than a century. Xander stood at the door the entire time, his back to me. I couldn’t see his expression. Finally, the doctor emerged with the blood bag. “Mr. Shaw, we have enough blood.” Xander exhaled in relief, immediately following the blood bag toward the operating room. He didn’t even glance back at me collapsed on the floor or at Aria in the room, her fate unknown. Alarms blared inside the ICU. “Patient in shock! Quick! Epinephrine!” Chaos erupted inside. The bodyguards saw Xander leave and released me, withdrawing one by one. I crawled into the hospital room on my hands and knees. Aria’s face was paper-white. The lines on the heart monitor became erratic, then slowly flattened. “Aria… Aria, don’t scare me…” My hands trembled as I touched my sister’s face. Ice cold. “Prepare the defibrillator! Charge to 200 joules!” The doctor attempted a final resuscitation. “Clear!” Aria’s body jerked up, then fell heavily back down. Once. Twice. Three times. Finally, that sharp, continuous tone announced the outcome. The doctor set down the paddles, glanced at the clock, sighed, and removed his mask. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could. The patient’s body was already weak. Acute blood loss caused multiple organ failure… Time of death, 4:32 PM.” The world collapsed in that moment. I didn’t cry. I just stood there quietly, looking at my sister’s face that seemed merely asleep. Seven years. No matter how hard things got, as long as I could see this face, I felt like I still had a home. Now, home was gone. Destroyed by the hands of the man who swore he loved me, who said he’d protect us sisters for life. I slowly bent down, pressing my face against my sister’s cold hand. “Aria, I’m sorry… I’m useless. I brought a wolf into our lives…” “Don’t worry. I won’t let you die in vain.” I straightened up, wiping away every tear from my face. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I’d saved long ago but never called. The phone was answered quickly. A deep, languid voice with an edge of danger came through. “Well, well. You finally remembered me?” This was Paxton Reed. Once the Winter family’s mortal enemy. Now, he ruled the city’s underworld. He was also the only person who could stand against Xander. A complete lunatic. “Paxton.” My voice was soft. “I want Xander destroyed. I want him to wish he were dead.” “I want to make a deal with you.” Paxton on the other end let out a soft laugh, as if he’d heard something tremendously entertaining. “The price will be steep, Sophia. What do you have to trade?” I looked at the darkening sky outside the window and the lights turning on in the Shaw Corporation building in the distance. “My life, my body, everything I have.” “As long as you can send him to hell, I’ll give you anything.” The other end fell silent for two seconds. Then Paxton’s voice came through with a smile, like a demon signing a contract. “Deal. Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.” I hung up. I took one last look at my sister on the bed, then turned and walked out of the room. The operating room light at the end of the corridor went out. The last bit of feeling I had for Xander extinguished with it. Xander, from now on, I’m going to make you live in hell.

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Three years after getting back together with Xavier, he cheated on me again. With the same woman from three years ago. When I ran into them at a restaurant, he lied and told me she was a client. The next moment, he shielded her behind him, looking at me with wariness and alarm. I knew what he feared—that I’d lose it again and hurt the woman he treasured most. But I simply stepped forward, straightened his slightly disheveled tie, and said gently: “Alright, I understand. Don’t drink too much. Remember to use protection during sex.” After a pause, I suddenly felt my concern was unnecessary, so I corrected myself: “Or don’t do it at all. That’s fine too.” I thought I’d been gentle and considerate enough. But somehow, Xavier’s face still darkened. The restaurant was quiet, with conversations deliberately kept low. Only the occasional soft clink of silverware against plates could be heard. The décor was thoughtful—roses everywhere, no other flowers in sight. Naturally, the people dining here were lovers. Or perhaps some were like Xavier. Everyone just tacitly played along, pretending to be affectionate. I acted as if I hadn’t seen Xavier’s darkened expression at all. I gave the woman he was shielding a slight nod, then turned and left. My friend walking beside me asked quietly, “Why aren’t you angry?” Angry? I didn’t seem to feel anything. Maybe I had been angry before, but it hadn’t helped. I’d even paid a heavy price for it. A price I couldn’t afford to pay a second time. I smiled calmly. “Nothing to be angry about. He was just meeting a client.” My friend looked at me in silence, her eyes filled with complex emotions. I knew what she was thinking. But I couldn’t tell her this was the first lesson Xavier had taught me: Learn to turn a blind eye to his affairs. When dinner ended, Xavier was waiting at the restaurant entrance in his car. I looked at my ride-hailing app still showing a queue, so I didn’t refuse. I opened the back door and got in. As expected, someone was sitting in the passenger seat. She turned around and smiled at me with a mixture of restraint and smugness. “Sorry, Mrs. Harper. I get carsick.” “Xavier took pity on me and let me sit here. There’s no other meaning to it—don’t misunderstand.” Xavier opened the door and got into the driver’s seat, explaining casually: “It’s just a seat. If you mind, I’ll have Bridget switch with you.” I nodded gently, still considerate. “It’s fine. I understand.” “I have motion sickness patches. Would you like one, Miss Sullivan? It might help.” Bridget said nothing. Xavier fell silent too. The car became quiet in an instant. It had started raining outside at some point. It looked cold. My friend sent me a message asking if I’d gotten a ride and whether she should come pick me up. I looked down to reply, not noticing Xavier gripping the steering wheel tightly. After a long while, he finally started the car before the rain got heavier. Bridget spoke again. “Drop Mrs. Harper off first. She lives closer.” At that, Xavier and I spoke almost simultaneously: “That works.” “No need.” I froze, then understood Xavier’s intention and quickly added: “Actually, it’s so late now, and it’s pouring rain. Going back and forth would be too much trouble.” “Why don’t you stay over? I just messaged the housekeeper and asked her to prepare both the master bedroom and guest room…” Before I could finish, Xavier suddenly hit the brakes hard. The tires screeched against the pavement. My forehead slammed into the back of the passenger seat. Before I could process the pain, I heard Xavier say coldly, “Get out!” I realized I’d misread his intentions again, so I shut my mouth. I quickly pulled out my folding umbrella from my bag, opened the car door, and got out. The rain was heavy—the small umbrella couldn’t shield much. I was quickly soaked through. Xavier drove past me, and the splash from puddles soaked my pants even more. I looked down at them briefly. When I looked up again, even the exhaust fumes were gone. In the end, I had no choice but to shamelessly message my friend and ask her to pick me up. She arrived quickly. Looking at me drenched, her eyes filled with exasperation. “You deserve this!” I forced a smile. “Clara, thank you.” “I know you mean well, but I can’t help it. I can’t leave him.” It wasn’t that my feelings wouldn’t allow me to leave him. It was reality that trapped me.

When I finished showering and came out of the bathroom, Xavier was back. He sat on the sofa with his head down, smoking—he’d probably been at it for a while, as the living room was filled with smoke. I paused while drying my hair, suddenly feeling this scene overlapped with three years ago. That was the day before our divorce. He smoked one cigarette after another until they nearly filled the entire ashtray. Finally, through the swirling smoke, he handed me the divorce papers with a cold, resolute expression. I walked forward somewhat stiffly, smiled, and took the cigarette from his mouth. “Stop smoking. It’s bad for your health.” Xavier looked up, his eyes filled with emotions I couldn’t read. I forced a smile. “Don’t worry, I haven’t misunderstood anything about you and Bridget.” “If you say she’s a client, then she’s a client.” “You already had plans with her. It was right to let her sit in your passenger seat and drive her home. I was the unexpected one.” “Don’t worry. I won’t cause trouble for her.” I was considerate and understanding, thinking from Xavier’s perspective. But somehow, Xavier still wasn’t happy. His lips pressed into a line, his expression dark. I grew anxious, almost panicked, telling him, “If you want to bring Miss Sullivan back here, I don’t mind either.” “If she finds me bothersome, I can move out too…” “Enough!” Xavier suddenly snapped, cutting off the rest of my words. He gripped my hand tightly, his eyes bloodshot as he looked at me: “If you’re so gentle and considerate, why don’t you just give up your position as Mrs. Harper!” I bit my lip, enduring the pain in my wrist, and looked at Xavier. “Then would you stop paying for my mother’s medication?” Xavier’s eyes widened. Not getting an answer, I asked again, unwilling to give up. “If I give up this position, will you still cover my mother’s medical expenses?” “Xavier, I can give it up—as long as you keep paying for my mother’s medication. Will you?” Xavier’s pupils contracted sharply. He suddenly flung my hand away and stood up from the sofa with a violent motion. He stared at me intently, not missing any expression on my face. I wasn’t lying. It was all true. I could give my position to Bridget. Really. Xavier seemed to see something in my face. He laughed bitterly. “And you say you haven’t misunderstood?” He came over again, took my hand, and rubbed the spot he’d just gripped red: “Bridget is just my client. I’m not lying to you. Really.” “Vienna, don’t be jealous for no reason. It’s annoying. You know I’m not in the mood to humor you.” I looked down at the spot he’d rubbed, wanting to say I wasn’t jealous. But it seemed pointless. So I didn’t argue. I simply nodded along with what Xavier said. “Okay. I understand.”

After that day, Xavier seemed like a different person. He suddenly stopped going anywhere, leaving late and returning early. In the mornings, he’d have me walk him to the entrance. After putting on his shoes, he’d turn back to kiss my forehead. At night, he’d bring me flowers—sometimes pansies, sometimes irises… Different ones every day. Then he’d kiss the corner of my lips and tell me: “Today, I missed you very much.” But the man who said he missed me spent his days shopping with Bridget and going to hot springs. He pretended affection, and I pretended affection too. Neither of us asked or spoke about it. Until Xavier’s mother’s birthday. Xavier said he wanted to take me back home to celebrate. I agreed. When he came to pick me up that evening, the passenger seat was already occupied. It was Bridget. She smiled at me without a trace of guilt. “Sorry, Mrs. Harper. I get a little carsick.” Was this Xavier testing me? I smiled and nodded, unbothered. “It’s fine. Carsickness is uncomfortable. I understand.” As I pulled open the back door to get in, Xavier got out of the car. He opened the passenger door and looked at Bridget. “Get out.” Bridget’s face changed. She forced a smile. “Mr. Harper, I…” Xavier held the door with a cold expression. “Don’t make me drag you out myself.” Bridget’s face looked even worse. The atmosphere grew tense. Just as I was about to break the awkward silence, Xavier pulled Bridget out. “Either sit in the back or get your own ride.” He didn’t look at Bridget’s expression. He simply helped me into the passenger seat. I felt conflicted, but I knew this wasn’t the time to defy Xavier. So I said nothing. Bridget didn’t call her own ride. She sat in the back. After the car started, Xavier handed me a gift box and explained simply, “For my mother. You give it to her.” I made a soft sound of agreement. Before I could speak, Bridget spoke first: “It’s an emerald necklace. I took Mr. Harper shopping for it. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I touched the gift box and smiled gently. “Yes, it really is beautiful.” See—the man who said he missed me. His body was always somewhere else. How could I dare believe him?

Xavier’s mother didn’t have a big celebration for her birthday—just a few family members. She really liked Bridget, finding her articulate and charming. I heard that when Xavier and I divorced the first time, she’d strongly tried to set him up with Bridget. But Xavier hadn’t agreed. Perhaps he found sneaking around more exciting. Today was the same. Xavier walked past me and took Bridget’s hand directly. “I’ve been waiting for you.” “Bridget, you don’t visit often. Without you here, I don’t even have anyone to share my thoughts with.” She took Bridget’s hand and had her sit beside her. She didn’t look at me once the entire time. I was used to it. I calmly placed the gift on the table. “From Xavier. Miss Sullivan chose it.” Xavier’s mother, who hadn’t even glanced at me, surprisingly looked my way. After a moment, she picked up the gift box to look, then had Bridget help her put it on. “You have such good taste.” “Unlike some people—no taste and no tact either.” “So unpleasant to look at.” If this were before, I definitely couldn’t have tolerated it and would’ve left. But now, I just stood to the side, listening quietly, reacting no more than a corpse. Xavier frowned, suddenly feeling something was off. It seemed that ever since Vienna had run into him and Bridget at the restaurant, she’d been like this. Too calm. Or rather… indifferent. For the first time— Xavier got drunk in his own home. He didn’t know why, but his mind kept replaying Vienna standing to the side, head down, silent, seemingly indifferent to everything. Was she… really indifferent? Xavier drank even more. Unable to go back, he could only stay the night at the family estate. Bridget stayed over too. In the room right next to mine and Xavier’s. A deliberate arrangement. I understood Xavier’s mother’s intention. So that night, when Xavier, using alcohol as an excuse, pinned me down to kiss me, I pushed him away. I straightened his collar and smiled. “Wait a moment.” Then I went out and called Bridget over. Under Bridget’s shocked gaze, I closed the door for her and Xavier. Then I drove away from the Harper family estate. Ten minutes later, I received a call from Xavier. He suppressed his voice and asked, “What do you mean by this?” I looked at the road illuminated by headlights and said softly: “Last time you got drunk holding me, you called Miss Sullivan’s name all night. I assumed it would be the same this time.” Xavier roared into the phone, “I didn’t call her name this time!” My tone remained gentle. “I know. But what if you did halfway through? I was thinking of you.”

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