Category: English

He plays basketball. I post: [SHOCKER! Best Actor caught in a steamy tangle with multiple men!] He eats street food at midnight. I post: [EXPOSED! You won’t believe what the Oscar-winner is doing on the streets at night!] Stalking him late at night, the Best Actor finally snaps, grabs my wrist, and roars, “How much longer are you going to keep this up?!” The billionaire prince of Manhattan punches him square in the jaw: “Get your hands off my wife!” The Best Actor whips out a marriage certificate and sneers, “Look closely. Whose wife do you think she really is?” I instantly get thrilled! Oh my god, having amnesia is amazing! I get to have two husbands! 1 [EXPOSED! You won’t believe what the Oscar-winner is doing on the streets at night!] My latest post on X hits over a million views, likes, and retweets in less than an hour. The Best Actor’s fandom wakes up in the middle of the night just to drag me in the comments. [Ugh! Another massive clickbait load of garbage!] [If she’s so brave, why doesn’t she catch something real for once?!] [Trash paparazzi trash! What is the actual truth?!] Their hate drives me straight to the global trending page. On the trending board, my name is intimately tucked right next to his. #TrashPaparazzi ChloeBrooks# At 2:00 AM, Ethan Vance was sitting at a sketchy late-night food truck, wearing a black hoodie and a low-brimmed baseball cap. He was casually perched on a plastic stool, holding a cheap street corn dog. I even attached eighteen high-res photos, each one making the Best Actor look drop-dead gorgeous. The fans can curse me all they want, but they never fail to praise my photography skills. For the past year, every single masterpiece photo of the Best Actor has come from my lens. [Strangely, this awful paparazzi always captures a completely different side of Ethan.] [I know, right? She somehow brings out that lonely, melancholic vibe of his.] [Honestly… it almost feels like my husband is posing for her.] [The comment above, are you insane?] I look at the comments with supreme satisfaction. These tsundere little angels always click on my sponsored links right after trashing me. After all, I’ve never actually ruined Ethan’s reputation; if anything, I’ve gifted them endless wallpaper-worthy shots. My income is skyrocketing, making me shoot even more enthusiastically. Suddenly, someone knocks on my car window. I look up. Ethan Vance is standing outside, holding a half-eaten corn dog. Through the one-way tint, he can’t see me, but I can see him perfectly. [SOS! Save me right now!] I shrink back into my seat, frantically texting my childhood friend, Weston Sterling. [Ethan found me!] 2 Sitting in the police precinct at midnight, I am completely numb. Weston actually punched Ethan! Ethan has a nasty bruise on his jaw. He sits on the bench, face cold as ice, lost in thought. Weston squeezes my hand, his voice low: “I messed up big time.” Well, I can’t entirely blame him for being reckless. He had just gone to grab me some late-night takeout, and when he walked back, he saw a strange man pounding on my car window. He thought Ethan was some kind of creep and immediately threw a punch. “You’re the billionaire prince of Manhattan, who are you afraid of?” I tease him to lighten the mood. Hearing this, Weston’s face flushes with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance, and he reaches out to pinch my cheek. He hates that title more than anything. He thinks it sounds incredibly cringe and ridiculous. I swat his hand away, looking at the scrape on his knuckles. “Does your hand hurt?” Weston instantly stops fooling around. He lets out a prideful huff, turning his head away. Ethan’s manager rushes into the station. The moment he sees Ethan’s face, he blows a fuse. “You’re that trash paparazzi, aren’t you?!” “Ethan is supposed to be on set tomorrow! Can you even afford the breach of contract fees?!” He points his finger right at me, screaming, “Rats like you belong in the gutter, or locked up in a cell to learn some manners!” Spit flies from his mouth, nearly hitting my face as he curses. He gets more and more aggressive, poking his finger dangerously close to my nose. I’m not a coward. Normally, I would have broken his nose by now. But looking at his furious face, a sudden, suffocating weight crashes onto my chest. My head feels like it’s about to split open. Tears stream down my face uncontrollably. In a daze, I hear another voice echoing in my mind, screaming at me: “Are you trying to ruin him?!” “Fine! Go find him right now! Let the whole world know about your pathetic relationship!” “What makes you think you’re good enough for him? What right do you have to question him?!” The sheer agony suffocates me. Everything goes black, and I faint. The last thing I hear is Weston’s roaring fury: “If anything happens to her, I will personally destroy every single one of you!” 3 After my little blackout at the precinct, Weston locked me up in a private hospital suite for two weeks to recover. While he’s fast asleep, I sneak into the bathroom to play mobile games. I get so into it that I start trash-talking out loud. “See that? Showing off in front of my squad? You’re all dead meat!” “When the pro steps in, it’s game over.” A clean Penta-kill. Absolutely legendary. Just as I’m about to queue up for another match, my teammate hits me up on Discord voice chat. “It’s three in the morning. Why aren’t you asleep?” I sigh in frustration. “Don’t even get me started. I’m basically under house arrest.” “Ugh, last month I ran into some psycho who screamed at me until I fainted.” “I told you before, I have amnesia. My brain can’t handle extreme stress.” “My boyfriend keeps forcing me to do all these medical exams. It’s so annoying.” My teammate inquires: “How did the tests go?” I reply while browsing through the in-game store to buy a new skin. “All clear. The doctor said it was just a severe trauma response.” Speaking of trauma responses, I’m honestly speechless. My mom always says my personality is so bright and sunny that if the sun ever exploded, you could hang me up in space and I’d warm the entire planet. Yet, I literally fainted just from being pointed at and yelled at. It actually makes me curious. What on earth happened during those three missing years of my life? Weston said when he found me two years ago, I looked like a wandering ghost. It scared him to death. Two years have passed, and I haven’t recovered a single memory. “Hey, why are you awake in the middle of the night anyway?” I ask, gifting my teammate a few expensive skins. When I first woke up with amnesia, I was incredibly bored. I met this teammate in an online lobby, and he’s been carrying me ever since. He always seemed pretty broke, grinding late-night shifts, so I basically sponsored all his in-game cosmetics. “Playing games with some random guy at three in the morning, huh?” Weston’s voice suddenly rings out. He’s leaning against the doorframe, shirtless, wearing black shorts. His stunning eyes are burning with pure jealousy. He looks like he wants to break my legs. Feeling guilty, I stubbornly snap back, “That’s what you get for locking me up! I have too much energy and nowhere to expend it!” Weston scoffs. “Too much energy? Chloe, I think you’re just begging for trouble.” He walks over, scoops me up by the waist, and hoists me onto the marble sink. The cold surface makes me shriek, and I instantly wrap my legs around him. Weston holds my thighs, pinning me against the wall. “Cold, cold, cold!” I yell, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck. Weston seals my lips, murmuring against them, “Don’t worry. You’ll warm up in a second.” The next day, I sleep until noon. I’m woken up by a barrage of phone notifications. I’m trending on X again. Wait, what is this hashtag? #MissYouTrashPaparazzi# What kind of twisted joke is this? How are these little devils mocking me now? I click on it, only to find out that Ethan Vance’s secret relationship has been leaked! But the gossip is super vague, and the leaked photos are incredibly blurry. His fans are frantically tagging me. [What kind of ancient flip-phone took these blurry photos?!] [Ugh, I actually miss our trash paparazzi.] [Every photo she takes is so high-def it feels like she’s hiding under my king’s bed.] [Trash paparazzi, come back! We promise to flame you less next time.] [Trash paparazzi, go investigate! Is Ethan really dating someone?!] I rub my hands together in excitement and immediately tweet out: [Hold on tight, babies! Mommy’s on it!] The fans always complain that I only post fake clickbait! This time, I’m definitely going to get them the real deal! Ethan’s relationship scoop has to come from me! Nationwide delivery! When it comes to pampering my anti-fans, I am dead serious! 4 Caught them! With a pounding heart and trembling hands, I finally caught them on camera! The secret girlfriend of the Oscar-winner Ethan Vance is actually the famous prima ballerina, Scarlett Dupont! No wonder Scarlett took a minor, uncredited role in Ethan’s new indie film—they’re sleeping together! Looks like that rising pop-starlet from last week was just clout-chasing. The initial leak was from some amateur paparazzi who posted a horribly pixelated photo of Ethan wearing a baseball cap, holding a girl in his arms. The night it went viral, the pop starlet posted a cryptic note on Instagram, asking everyone to “respect her privacy.” Puh-lease. Talk about a parasite. [It’s been five days. Where is the trash paparazzi?] [Chloe! I know you’re reading this! Don’t hide behind your screen!] [Is posting a tweet against your religion, trash paparazzi?] Having gone dark for five days, my little anti-fans are spamming my notifications, begging for the real scoop. I stare at the footage in my camera, hesitating. Ethan looked completely wasted. He looked up, said something to Scarlett, and rubbed his eyes. In that split second, when he looked back up, his eyes were bloodshot. There was a heartbreaking fracture in his gaze, as if he were using every ounce of his strength just to hold back his tears. I read his lips. He seemed to be saying something about “breaking up.” Hearing it, Scarlett’s tears instantly spilled over. Oh, those poor little lovers. What kind of drama are they going through? If I leak this right now, wouldn’t I just be fast-tracking their breakup? In the driver’s seat, Weston pulls my ear and nips my earlobe. He says irritably, “Chloe, it’s four in the morning. I skipped sleep to watch another man with you. What, are you actually feeling sorry for him now?” Weston is clearly sleep-deprived and cranky. He pushes me back against the car seat and kisses me fiercely. He bites my lip hard enough to sting. I pat his back, trying to soothe his temper. The guy has terrible morning wrath; dragging him out of bed at this hour was admittedly a bit cruel. Ever since we got together, Weston always finds ways to ravage me. Every time he kisses me, it’s like his life depends on it, refusing to stop until I’m entirely breathless. My tongue feels numb, and my lips burn. I push against him, but he refuses to let go. I can only snatch brief gasps of oxygen from his mouth. “Look at you, completely helpless, my little piggy,” Weston smirks, looking down at me. Before I know it, I’m curled up in his lap. He brushes his lips against my cheek, murmuring lazily, “Alright, you got the shot. Let’s go home and catch up on sleep. And don’t forget what you promised me before we left the house.” I glare at him, letting out a soft huff. He totally took advantage of the situation. If I hadn’t agreed to that specific demand, he would have refused to act as my chauffeur. I lower my head to tweet: [Stop crying, babies! I can guarantee that Ethan’s girlfriend is absolutely NOT that starlet who claims to be allergic to alcohol but can actually chug a whole bottle of tequila. It’s someone else! @GossipKing, stop feeding us rotten garbage leaks, or I’ll personally smack you across the face. Babies, sorry for the wait. To make it up to you, like, retweet, and comment on this post—I’m picking ten people tonight to win a brand-new Louis Vuitton Neonoe bucket bag.] “Wow, Chloe. Making it big, huh?” Weston immediately pulls out his phone to like and retweet. I am completely speechless. Look at this shameless man! To my surprise, @GossipKing actually claps back instantly. @GossipKing: [@WildPiglet, lol, if you don’t bring real receipts, you really think I’m running a circus here?] And then, he leaks a video! I click on it and examine it closely. The video seems to have been shot in late autumn. Ethan is sitting on a stone bench behind a manicured garden hedge, wearing a black jacket. A girl is sitting on his lap, her face obscured. His expression is cold and detached. The girl suddenly stands up to leave, looking furious. Ethan grabs her wrist, pulls her back onto his lap, cups her face, and kisses her passionately. The internet completely explodes! And I am frozen in shock! I zoom in on the video, and my mind goes entirely blank. The girl in the video has a distinct red mole on her neck. As Ethan kisses her, his hand repeatedly caresses that exact spot. What the hell?! It’s in the exact same spot as the red mole on my neck. Every time Weston pins me down to have his way with me, he loves to bite that exact spot! Weston looks down at my phone, and his expression instantly changes. I sit up, feeling a cold shiver run down my spine. The car window is rolled down, and suddenly, Ethan Vance appears in my line of sight. He stares at my lips first, then glances down at my phone screen. The alcohol must have finally hit him. He brutally yanks the car door open. Before I can even react, he pulls me into a tight embrace, his voice cracking with a suffocating sob: “Wife, I’m sorry. It was my fault. Please, just come back to me.” 5 The entire internet is trying to dig up the identity of Ethan Vance’s secret lover! Hahaha, they don’t know, but I do! I rub my hands in pure excitement, screaming internally. Ethan’s girlfriend is definitely Scarlett Dupont! I really am the undisputed god of Hollywood gossip! Ethan just mistook me for someone else because he’s wasted! Pushing his way in and calling me his wife scared the living daylights out of me. But then I noticed Scarlett’s neck, and a bolt of lightning struck my brain. I yelled out, “Oh my god! So the Best Actor’s mystery woman really is Scarlett Dupont! Weston, look! The red mole on her neck is identical to the girl in the video!” Wow, @GossipKing actually pulled out some real receipts this time. In that video, Ethan looks noticeably younger. Who knows where they dug up that old footage. Ethan seemed to sober up instantly. He stumbled back half a step, staring at me with a hollow, devastated look. Weston glares at him with a cold sneer. “Ethan, don’t use alcohol as an excuse to play dumb and touch my wife. If you dare lay a single finger on my Chloe again, I won’t hesitate to break your other hand.” Scarlett rushes over, supporting Ethan’s weight. Her eyes are red as she whispers sharply, “Weston Sterling is a monster, don’t provoke him. Be rational.” I hated hearing that. Furious, I snap, “Miss Dupont, we’re all adults here. Watch your mouth! If you keep spouting nonsense, believe it or not, I’ll leak everything about you two right this second!” Scarlett snaps, crying out hysterically, “Did I say something wrong?! Weston literally snapped Ethan’s wrist, locked him in a room, and let him suffer in agony for three days! He missed the critical window for surgery, and now he can never play the piano again!” Uh… that statement completely shuts me up. She called Weston a monster… and honestly, doing something like that, Weston really was a… well, uh. What kind of deep blood feud drives someone to break another man’s hand? Ethan originally debuted as a prodigy pianist. No wonder nobody has seen him touch a piano for the past two years. “Weston can be hot-headed, but he would never bully someone without a reason,” I say, squeezing Weston’s hand tightly. “He only loses his mind when it involves me. Miss Dupont, you look like you absolute hate him. So let me ask you: did Ethan do something so unforgivable that Weston couldn’t let it slide?” Did I work as a paparazzi before my amnesia and capture some insane scandal that made Ethan assault me? And then Weston, out of pure rage, broke Ethan’s hand? Before Scarlett can answer, my phone vibrates violently. I look down. Someone is blowing up my alt account on Discord with a voice call. This alt account is loaded with Ethan’s top fansite admins. We usually trade tips on his schedule. “Trash paparazzi! Where the hell are you?!” “All hell just broke loose! Get on Twitter right now!” 6 I log onto X, and holy crap, it really is a massive explosion! @GossipKing: [Lol, Ethan Vance always acts so pure and noble, and his fans keep bragging about how much he loves them. Well, he sure loves them—he loves them so much he’s been sleeping with his biggest fansite admin. Bet you guys didn’t know that, did you?] This time, there are no pictures or videos. It’s just words. But Ethan’s rival fandoms are absolutely ecstatic! They are digging like bloodhounds. The app crashes multiple times from the sheer volume of traffic. An engineer tweets from his personal account: [FUCK MY LIFE!!! Can you paparazzi pick an hour that isn’t midnight to start a war?!] Within ten minutes, an anti-fan account compiles a massive thread. @IsEthanRuinedYet: [Receipts are right here! The girl in the video is wearing a blue hooded jacket. It’s an exact match to the jacket worn by his biggest fansite admin, @WildPiglet, in an old airport arrival video!] The fans immediately launch a counter-attack. [That jacket was a massive trend that year! Literally everyone bought one!] [What does this prove? Piglet left the fandom two years ago! Are you guys so desperate that you have to drag a retired fan?!] [Lol, Ethan isn’t going anywhere. Your faves can keep eating dirt!] @IsEthanRuinedYet strikes back with another post instantly! [The jacket might be generic, but look closely at the bracelet on the girl’s wrist! Every single stone is a flawless, ultra-rare pink diamond. That is not some twenty-dollar fast-fashion junk! That exact bracelet was spotted on @WildPiglet’s wrist before! Anyone who knows luxury jewelry knows that pink diamond bracelet is a global limited edition—only three exist in the entire world.] This time, Ethan’s fans go dead silent. People are frantically DMing me. [Trash paparazzi! Where are you?! We’re dying over here!] [Didn’t you say you caught his real girlfriend? Is it really Piglet?] [We are in deep trouble this time.] @WildPiglet used to be Ethan’s absolute biggest fansite admin. It’s safe to say that without her, Ethan would have never gotten his initial breakout fame. But two years ago, her account went permanently dark, and she vanished from the public eye. My inbox is melting down. Fans are begging me for the truth. But as for what the truth is… even I’m not sure anymore. “Weston… the girl in GossipKing’s video… it’s me, isn’t it?” I look up at Weston, completely bewildered. “You gave me that bracelet. Nobody else could possibly have it.” My head throbs with an agonizing pain, feeling like it’s about to explode. Weston reaches up to wipe my face, and only then do I realize I’m covered in tears. His eyes are bloodshot, his throat bobbing as if he wants to speak, but he just tightly grips my hand. After a long silence, he chokes out, “Chloe… don’t cry. When you cry, my heart breaks.” I turn my gaze back to Ethan. Ethan pulls a stack of small, red booklets from a drawer and spreads them out in front of me. Inside the booklets are photos. I’m sporting a high ponytail, laughing brightly, a deep dimple flashing on my cheek. And I am leaning intimately against Ethan. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt, a gentle warmth crinkling the corners of his eyes. What is this? A marriage certificate… between me and Ethan? 7 SHOCKER! The ultimate gossip subject is actually me! Two clear marriage certificates prove beyond a doubt that I am Ethan Vance’s secretly wedded wife. I lean in and whisper to Weston, “Wait, does this mean we’ve been having an affair?” Weston lets out a cold huff. “What? Thinking of dumping me now?” I suppress my bizarre excitement and whisper back, “Not at all. I just feel like our relationship suddenly got a whole lot more thrilling.” I’m not blind! There are two massive, glaring “VOID” stamps inked across the certificates, meaning this marriage is legally over. How surreal. I was actually married to the top Oscar-winner. And what’s even more surreal is that we got divorced. The anti-fans dig up everything. It’s crystal clear now: I am indeed Ethan’s former million-follower fansite admin—@WildPiglet. Ethan’s new manager is blowing up his phone, and his PR team is desperately trying to suppress the trending hashtags. But right in front of my face, Ethan types out a tweet and posts it directly. @EthanVance: [There are many things I don’t know how to explain right now. We married out of love, and we divorced out of love. During our three years together, I failed her deeply in many ways. I hope everyone can give me some time and space. I will handle my personal affairs privately, and then I will hold a press conference to give my fans the explanation they deserve.] I ponder for a moment, then log into my own account to post a tweet. @WildPiglet: [I literally just found out that I am Ethan Vance’s ex-wife. Before tonight, I had three years of total amnesia and knew absolutely nothing. My gossip, my leak! @GossipKing, you old clown, are you stupid? I am still the reigning sovereign of Hollywood tea! Go cry in a corner.] Ethan’s fandom goes completely haywire. [The trash paparazzi is the actual ex-wife?!] [The ex-wife is Piglet?!] [Someone map out this timeline for me, my brain is melting!] [Honestly… if the wife is the trash paparazzi, I’m kind of okay with it? She’s rich, gorgeous, and hilariously unhinged.] Off to the side, Scarlett breaks down into hysterical tears. “Ethan! Do you have any idea how much you sacrificed to get where you are today?! We could have easily let this blow over! Why did you have to announce it?! Chloe doesn’t even remember you anyway! She’s no threat to your career!” Having stalked Ethan for so long, I know exactly how brutal his journey to stardom was. In his early days as a background actor, he was humiliated by a toxic co-star who made him crawl between his legs just to get a line. Filming a historical drama in sub-zero weather, he plunged into a freezing lake repeatedly for a realistic shot, catching a terrifying fever that night. At industry dinners, to beg a director for a single audition, he drank until his stomach bled, yet he still grit his teeth and pushed through. “Scarlett is right,” I say, feeling a pang of pity. “Ethan, you should go to your agency and figure out a proper damage control strategy with your publicist. If you need me to cooperate with a statement, I will.” Setting everything else aside, I still respect Ethan’s talent. Ethan gazes at me, his eyes slowly filling with tears. He whispers, “Chloe… you didn’t actually lose your memory. You just don’t love me anymore, do you?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “446012”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I Was Reincarnated as a She-Wolf. When the Alpha Howled His Commands, I Barely Managed a Half-Hearted Yip. Because of my epic laziness, I was exiled from the pack. Starving and dizzy, I finally stumbled upon a human trail. Throwing away my wolf pride, I rolled onto my back and shamelessly begged the humans for food. Sustained by Twinkies and hotdogs, I even grew a glossy, luxurious winter coat. The Alpha ran hundreds of miles to find me, only to see my pathetic display. His hackles raised as he roared: “I just have one question—why is your tail wagging so high?!” 1 Every time I ovulate, I revert back to a human girl. I always find a hidden spot to secretly get through it. Unfortunately, the old Alpha caught a whiff of my overwhelming scent and found me. Ahhh! Wake up, buddy! We have a biological barrier here! I practically tumbled over myself scrambling up a tree, barely escaping by the skin of my teeth. After that, the old Alpha lost a duel to a low-ranking wolf named Shadow and was exiled from the pack. Shadow killed the old Alpha’s pups and took his place. I hadn’t even woken up yet when Shadow stood on the mountain peak and started howling. From all directions, the pack howled back, their voices ringing out in a unified, deafening chorus. It’s way too early for this! Let a wolf sleep, will you?! I lifted a paw, covered my ear, and tried to go back to sleep. “Why aren’t you howling? Watch out, the Alpha will come beat you up,” the wolf next to me kindly warned. I’ve literally reincarnated as an animal, and I still can’t just lie flat? I hate this! I hate hustle culture! Without even bothering to open my eyes, I gave a half-hearted, weak a-woo. “You’re so brave. Do you know how terrifying Shadow is?” Isn’t it just a story of a try-hard who grinded his way to the top and became Alpha? What’s so terrifying about that? Suddenly, a thunderous sound approached, accompanied by an incredibly oppressive wave of testosterone. I jolted awake, scrambled to my feet, and ran to the edge of the hill to look. I saw Shadow looking furious, leading a massive swarm of wolves straight toward me. Dust and dirt kicked up everywhere they went. I was so terrified my fur instantly spiked up like a sawblade. He’s not here to beat me up; he’s here to kill me! Without looking back, I bolted, running for my life. Panting and wheezing, I ran over a hundred and fifty miles without stopping, finally making it out of the primeval forest. Running all night left me parched and starving. I found a river to drink from, but a massive water buffalo suddenly burst out of the water. I was so scared I didn’t even dare to drink. I turned and ran for my life again. So hungry… so hungry… I stumbled and swayed before just collapsing on the ground and falling asleep. Ugh… if I’m asleep, I won’t feel hungry. Half-asleep, I felt something fuzzy brushing against my nose. I opened my eyes halfway. There was a rabbit right in front of me. “Ah-woo.” I opened my mouth but couldn’t bring myself to bite down. It’s an old rabbit. The meat will be too tough. Hard pass. In the middle of the night, I mustered up my courage and crept back to the river, belly to the ground. While the water buffalo was sleeping, I quickly snatched a fish and bolted. 2 In the bushes, a pair of golden wolf eyes moved slowly, looking exceptionally cold and terrifying in the moonlight. I perked my ears up, staring at him warily. He stepped out of the bushes. He was a young male wolf, nearly six and a half feet long. His fur was sleek and shiny, his muscles lean and defined, but what stood out most were those chilling, terrifying golden pupils. My breath hitched. “Who are you? What do you want?” I backed up step by step, staying on high alert. If he dares to pounce, I’ll… I’ll run! “Why aren’t you with your pack?” He just stopped in front of me, not moving any closer. This wolf radiated an incredibly dangerous aura. I felt like I had smelled this scent somewhere before, but I couldn’t quite place it. Whatever, too lazy to think about it. Maybe all male wolves smell this gross. I knew that in the brutal animal kingdom, being a lone wolf was incredibly dangerous. But… “I was being hunted by the Alpha! Wouldn’t you run?” He looked surprised. “Why did you think he wanted to kill you?” “He’s a petty wolf!” So what if my howl was a little half-hearted? He actually brought the whole pack to hunt me down over it! “You’re too weak. If you don’t stay with a pack, you’ll die.” When he called me weak, he wasn’t just talking about my combat skills. I was less than four feet long, and I was a white wolf. Snow-white fur provides zero camouflage in the wild, making me an easy target for predators. “Are you weak too? Why aren’t you with a pack?” He didn’t look like a weak wolf to me. He was silent for a moment. “Yeah. Pretty much the same as you.” Ah, so he just looks intimidating, but he’s actually a rejected, weak wolf just like me. Feeling a sense of camaraderie, I didn’t chase him away. Instead, I made a spot for him to sleep. He asked me, “What’s your name?” “Maya.” That was my human name. “What about you? What’s yours?” “I’m… Nolan.” The deep wilderness was so quiet you could only hear the wind. I slept until the sun was high in the sky. I yawned, lazily propping myself up to look at Nolan. I didn’t expect him to be even lazier than me. A mosquito landed on his ear, and he just twitched it without even opening his eyes. With my ears flattened, I kept my head low and crawled forward. Strangely, I didn’t see the water buffalo from yesterday. I carefully sniffed around and caught a super intense scent of blood. Following the smell, I found the water buffalo dead by the river, covered in blood. Flies were buzzing all over it. Looking at the bite marks, this giant beast had clearly been killed by a wolf. Huh? Is there some badass… I mean, badass wolf nearby? “Why aren’t you eating?” Nolan suddenly appeared behind me. “The meat is too tough, the skin is too thick, and flies are shitting on it. I’m passing.” He didn’t expect a wolf to be this picky, refusing to eat this and that even when starving to death. With the water buffalo gone, I splashed around in the river, catching fish. I also rolled around in the water to wash my snow-white fur. And… the strong female scent— It was almost time for me to revert back to a human girl. Meanwhile, the lazy wolf Nolan laid on a rock, resting his chin on his paws, watching me lazily through half-closed eyes. “A herd of elephants is going to pass through here soon. We need to leave,” he said. “I don’t want to.” I finally found a place with food and water. I haven’t even started my lazy wolf life yet. “Do you want to get flattened by an elephant?” 3 Cherish your wolf life; stay away from elephant herds. I ended up following Nolan. Crossing the plains, we entered a jungle. My keen senses picked up the scent of a wolf pack. Overjoyed, I followed the scent. Under a tree, a scrawny male wolf was gnawing on a piece of rotting meat. The meat was foul and filthy; I wouldn’t eat it even if I were starving. I suppressed my disgust and walked over. “Hi there, can I meet your Alpha?” If I’m lucky and meet a generous Alpha, I can start my lazy life of mooching off the pack. The skinny wolf saw me and gave a wicked grin. “Sure, follow me.” I didn’t think much of it and followed him. After a few steps, he suddenly spun around and pounced on me, pinning me down. “Ahhhh! What are you doing?!” My brain short-circuited. I instinctively fought with everything I had to escape. But he was too strong. Pinned beneath him, I couldn’t break free. When I realized what he was trying to do, my mind went blank. I just curled my tail tightly over my butt. Even though he was skinny, male wolves have an absolute advantage over females in both size and strength. Just when I was exhausted and hopelessly thought my butt was doomed, the weight on me suddenly vanished. Nolan was tangled in a vicious fight with the skinny wolf. Without daring to look back, I seized the chance and ran for my life. I sprinted across a gravel bank, through a meadow, and finally stopped at a watering hole, panting heavily. I laid by the river, took a few gulps of water, and then heard Nolan’s howl: “A-woo—” I heard that kind of howl often. It was the howl of victory. Even though my heart was still pounding, I remembered Nolan had just saved my butt, so I headed back. When I returned, the scene before me was shocking. The skinny wolf’s neck was snapped; he was lying dead on the ground with his mouth open. Nolan had his paw on another wolf, who appeared to be the pack’s Alpha. The Alpha was barely clinging to life, panting heavily, his belly heaving. The rest of the pack watched in stunned silence. None dared to challenge this outsider male wolf. Nolan saw me, released the Alpha, and slowly walked toward me under the pack’s watchful eyes. I was so terrified I gulped. I didn’t expect this lazy wolf to be such a badass! He narrowed his eyes at me. “What, are you scared of me?” I shook my head, then nodded, suddenly too tongue-tied to speak. 4 I really couldn’t figure out what this big boss wanted. Wherever I went, he followed. While I was still trying to catch fish and rabbits, he had already hunted down several water buffaloes and wildebeests. A familiar, strange sensation surged through my body. I knew it was time for me to revert back to a human girl. To keep Nolan from discovering my secret, I sneaked away while he was sleeping. I needed to find a safe, hidden spot before I transformed. Finally, over three hundred miles away, I found a cave. The entrance was hidden by vegetation, and there were plenty of decaying leaves to mask my scent. To avoid starving, I gathered some wild berries and brought them back to the cave. Exhausted, I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was a human girl again. Unfortunately, I underestimated the temperature drop in this forest. The sun was warm during the day, but at night, it felt like an icebox. I had no clothes and didn’t dare go outside, so I curled into a ball to keep from freezing to death. So warm… so soft… What is this? I slowly opened my eyes, only to meet a pair of golden wolf eyes! My breath caught in my throat. I stammered, “No… Nolan?” I had no idea how he found me. He was lying completely on top of me, but he wasn’t doing anything inappropriate. Was he going to eat me, or was he just using his fur to keep me warm? “Wh-what are you doing?” My voice couldn’t stop shaking. “Keeping you from freezing to death.” I let out a sigh of relief. “How did you find me?” “Your scent is very strong,” he said. “You’re in heat.” “No! Don’t make it sound so gross!” I couldn’t help raising my voice. “Human women go through this every month. It’s nothing special!” “You go into heat every month?” He sounded surprised. “It’s not heat! It’s a normal biological function!” I tried to correct him. But he ignored me, resting his head on me, closed his eyes, and went to sleep. Even though this wolf was fierce, I was sure he meant me no harm. Thanks to his fur keeping me warm, I safely made it through my “special time.” When I turned back into a wolf, I felt a deep sense of loss. I’m human. I’m a human…

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The new transfer student clung to me the second he arrived. He was proud, cheerful, and full of youthful spirit. I tutored him, helping him climb from the absolute bottom of the class to the top tier. He would rescue me from awkward situations, pinching my cheek and saying: “Little coward, let me take you to ditch class and get ice cream, okay?” Until I overheard him confessing to someone else at the corner of the stairwell. His eyes were obedient, his voice pleading. “I came here for you.” “You really hate her, right? I’ll drag her down.” During evening study hall that night, I finished seven practice exams, working so relentlessly that it made everyone else in the room panic. 1 During our senior year of high school, all my AP science notes were thrown into the muddy school pond. Carter Hayes jumped into the filthy water without a second of hesitation. Soon, he held the soaking wet notebook high in the air. He flashed a bright, blinding smile at me. “Chloe, I found your notebook.” Looking at the ink-smeared, mud-caked notebook… “Th… thank you.” I thanked him softly. I was a natural stutterer; my speech was never fluid. “Keep me company after school to buy ice cream as a thank you, okay?” He grinned, revealing his slightly pointed canine teeth. The students crowding around us immediately started cheering and teasing. “No.” After school, the physics teacher was going to explain some problems to me; I didn’t want to waste my study time. As soon as I refused, Carter’s face fell, looking exactly like a kicked puppy. “Oh, I see… then I won’t bother you.” His amber eyes were filled with visible disappointment. Carter’s buddies immediately jumped in. “Carter dug your notebook out of dirty water, and you won’t even buy him an ice cream?” I looked at Carter standing tall in front of me, laughing and roughhousing with his friends. “Nobody is allowed to tease Chloe, she’s busy.” If I hadn’t eventually learned Carter’s true colors. I really would have believed he was my salvation, my protective knight in shining armor. I still vividly remembered yesterday at the corner of the stairs. He was half-kneeling on the ground, tying a girl’s shoelaces. The sunlight gilded his profile; the usually arrogant boy looked incredibly gentle and careful. I leaned against the wall, clamping a hand over my mouth. I clearly heard him say: “You really hate Chloe Vance, right? Just wait a bit longer, I’ll drag her grades down.” “Don’t worry, I won’t fall for her.” “I came here for you, Audrey Miller.” 2 Before I met Carter, I seemed to have never been noticed by anyone. Ever since my mom remarried, she seemed to have completely changed. She went from being my mom— To being the mom of the daughter my stepdad brought with him. At the dinner table, she would endlessly praise Audrey. “Audrey, eat some more, these are your favorite chicken wings.” Mom piled all the chicken wings from the serving bowl onto my nominal step-sister’s plate. Audrey glanced at me coldly, a bit disgusted. “No thanks, I’m on a diet.” I looked up at my mom. The smile on her face was a little awkward. “Right, right, after all, you’re so pretty, Audrey.” When Mom noticed me looking at her, her face suddenly flushed red, and she angrily scolded me. “Audrey isn’t like you. All you know is how to eat, eat, eat. You’ve gotten as fat as a pig.” I lowered my head and said nothing. I was born with a stutter; it was even more obvious when I spoke in long sentences, so I couldn’t be bothered to defend myself. I just buried my head and ate my rice. It was just that today’s rice tasted a bit salty. I didn’t know why. I clearly didn’t eat that much. Why did my body inflate like a balloon, gaining weight and breaking out in severe acne? I tried suggesting that I wanted to go to the doctor for a check-up, but Mom shot me down, even twisting my ear as she scolded: “It’s just puberty acne, you’re making a fuss over nothing. We don’t have money to take you for medical tests. You have zero sympathy for your mother and only know how to waste money.” But my step-sister’s dance classes were a hundred dollars a session, and she never missed a single one. My stepdad didn’t like me either, but he maintained a facade of surface-level kindness. My bloated figure only further highlighted Audrey’s beautiful, slender frame. I held a breath of fierce resentment in my chest. I refused to believe I was inferior to Audrey in every single way. So I studied desperately, and finally, my grades squeezed into the top fifty in the entire school, much better than Audrey, who hovered right in the middle. But when I walked home carrying a ten-pound backpack… Passing by the glass windows of a high-end, beautiful boutique… I clearly saw my mom and stepdad together, picking out a pearl hair clip for Audrey. Audrey was holding a cup of ice cream, eating it lazily. Letting my mom stand behind her on her tiptoes, brushing her hair and trying on the hair clip. I gripped my backpack straps tightly. I stood in the tidal wave of the crowd, watching them. My backpack felt so incredibly heavy in that moment, almost pressing me down so hard I couldn’t take a single step. I saw the “Dairy Queen” logo on the ice cream cup Audrey was holding. I remembered a few days ago when I asked my mom for money to buy school supplies, and she viciously threw a crumpled five-dollar bill at me. I bought a scantron pencil, an eraser, and a black pen. The money was gone. The teacher’s words from class echoed in my ears. “Correct your mistakes in red pen, correct them in red pen! Chloe, tell your mom to go buy you a red pen.” 3 Carter was the new transfer student. As soon as he transferred to our school, he clung to me. Before the teacher even assigned him a seat, he sat down right in front of me. “Teacher, I’ll just sit here.” Then he turned his head and said to me. “Hi, I’m Carter. Can I borrow a pen?” As the unremarkable, chubby girl in class, this was the very first time a boy had actively struck up a conversation with me. My heart instantly felt nervous, and I even subconsciously felt a deep wave of shame. Please don’t be sarcastic, and please don’t laugh at me. This was the subconscious reaction of a historically ignored, self-esteem-lacking, cowardly person facing friendliness. I frantically dug through my backpack, but could only find some chipped, imperfect pens. These were all picked up from the floor while doing classroom cleaning duties. I had no allowance; my school supplies were mostly school rewards or things I found on the ground. I finally managed to dig out a black click-pen and handed it to Carter. This pen flowed with a lot of ink, and I only ever dared to use it when writing English essays. He took the pen and casually handed me a Ferrero Rocher. “Thanks. This is for you.” That chocolate, wrapped in gold foil, made me panic. Back in 2015, a Ferrero Rocher was a very expensive candy to me; I had never tasted one before. I carefully tucked it into my desk cubby, planning to return it to him after class. The moment the bell rang and he stood up, I gathered my courage and called his name. Thankfully, I didn’t stutter. “Carter.” “Hmm? What’s up?” Carter turned his head to look at me. He was tall, and stepping on the leg of his chair, I had to look up at him. The corners of his mouth carried a smile, and his eyes reflected a chubby me, a shy me. “You don’t… need to… give me…” I was so pathetic, I stuttered again. He burst out laughing. Winds from all directions suddenly rushed in through the open window. The wind lifted the blue curtains, blowing them up like sails on a ship. The test papers of the students in the class fluttered up like pigeons taking flight. A piece of paper flew up and perfectly covered half of his brow and eye. He smiled at me and said. “How did you become a little stutterer?” “It’s actually kind of cute…” 4 Honestly, high school students are usually very sensitive to transfer students, often rejecting them. But Carter mixed perfectly with everyone as soon as he arrived. He had an outgoing personality, a tall, handsome build, and the teachers treated him with noticeable politeness. High schoolers have a natural awe for students who come from wealthy, powerful families. Carter flawlessly integrated into the class. Between classes, boys actively invited him to play basketball, and girls would tell him what the next class was. Many people tried to get on his good side. I was sitting so close to him, yet I didn’t dare say a single word to him. But Carter actively sought me out. During class, if he forgot his textbook, he would pull his chair right next to mine to share. He would naturally turn around to ask me for the homework. Somehow, we slowly became familiar with each other through this. But most of the time, Carter only talked to me during class. The second class ended, he disappeared. I didn’t have any close friends, so during breaks, I mostly sat in my seat studying physics problems by myself. That was when Ethan Wright came over with a physics test paper. Ethan was our class’s Academic Rep. He was tall and had clean features. But he always wore round glasses, and combined with his middle-part haircut, the other boys gave him the nickname “Teacher’s Pet.” He had a softer personality, so the boys didn’t really like hanging out with him either. Like me, Ethan was somewhat of a social outcast in the class. Ethan brought his test paper and plopped right down in Carter’s seat, then leaned in so our heads were close together to discuss the problem. The more we calculated, the closer we felt to the answer. We looked up and smiled at each other, actually feeling a bit of mutual appreciation. But right at that moment, laughter rang out in my ears. A few bored boys had wandered over to tease us. “What are you two doing?” “Dating, obviously.” The moment those words left the boy’s mouth… Ethan reacted like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on. He instantly shoved the test paper away from us. The thin paper was pinched by a textbook and ripped cleanly in half with a loud shhhk. Ethan’s face turned beet red. I knew it wasn’t the blush of shyness; it was pure embarrassment and shame. He felt ashamed of being paired up with a fat girl. The physics problem wasn’t even fully solved yet, but Ethan stood up and yelled. “What kind of garbage are you talking about? I would never like Chloe.” The boy next to him grinned. “Yeah, exactly, Chloe’s like Porky Pig.” My ears were filled with the boys’ mocking laughter and Ethan’s raised, defensive voice explaining himself. I gripped the pen in my hand, remaining completely silent from start to finish. My face looked calm, but I knew that the internal fortress I called self-esteem was collapsing, falling apart piece by piece. Dust and smoke rose from the ruins of my heart. I wouldn’t cry. A fat person’s tears wouldn’t earn anyone’s sympathy; it would only put me in an even more awkward, humiliating position. I just buried my head lower and lower. 5 “So what if she’s chubby? That just means she eats well.” Carter’s magnetic, slightly raspy voice suddenly rang out. I had no idea when Carter had returned to the classroom, but he was standing right next to us. He was tall and carried an intimidating presence. Because he had just transferred, he didn’t have a school uniform yet. He was wearing his own black crewneck t-shirt. A silver chain hung around his neck. It only amplified his arrogant, untamed aura. Carter was lazily spinning a small keychain on his finger, from which dangled a little white bunny. He tossed the little bunny onto my desk, as if to comfort my broken heart. Then, he lazily reached out and grabbed Ethan by the back of his collar. Sounding like he was just joking around: “Move aside, stop wasting Chloe’s time. I still need her to tutor me.” The boys who were teasing earlier kept pushing it: “What’s up, Carter, is Chloe yours or something?” Carter shot him a lazy, sidelong glance, a careless smirk hanging on his lips. But his tone was incredibly firm and serious. “Yeah, she’s mine. Got a problem?” The boy’s brutal honesty choked the others into silence. “Chloe, explain this problem to me.” Carter squeezed past a flushed, embarrassed Ethan. He held up his physics textbook, flipped to the chapter on reference frames, and badgered me to teach him. Ethan’s face went white, then red. But intimidated by Carter, he didn’t say anything. He just gripped his physics book so tightly his knuckles turned white and his veins popped. Even though the lesson on reference frames was relatively simple, I still earnestly explained the concepts to Carter. It was only halfway through my explanation that I realized something was off. I casually looked up, locking eyes with him. He wasn’t looking at the problem at all. He was just resting his chin on his hand, watching me with deep interest. He had slightly downturned, world-weary eyes with dark irises that looked like polished obsidian. It made my heart race in panic. Carter was different from the other boys in class. I had been given cruel nicknames and called Miss Piggy. I had been blamed by the boys behind me for blocking their view when I was punished and made to stand in the back of the class. When it came to taking out the trash or scrubbing the sinks, the others subconsciously assigned those dirty, tiring chores to me. Because I was fat and plain, I didn’t have the right to resist. When carrying heavy boxes, I had tried to say: “I don’t think I can carry two classrooms’ worth of textbooks by myself.” The only response I got was an impatient: “Fat people are strong, stop whining.” But Carter was the only one. He was the only one— Who treated me like a normal girl. An ordinary high school girl’s fragile, crumbling self-esteem… In that exact moment, had finally been seen and defended.

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After the party ended, Tristan kissed me, riding the high of his buzz. I thought my years of secret, unrequited love had finally seen the light of day. But just two days later, he went Instagram official with his new girlfriend. It was a backlit photo of them kissing, captioned: “Plotted for a long time, finally got what I wished for.” 1 I gathered my courage and called him. “Did it have to be Chloe?” “Do I need to report to you who I’m dating?” His lazy drawl came through the receiver, so familiar yet suddenly acting like a total stranger. I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat, let out a long breath, and asked, “If it’s her, then what am I?” And what was that kiss? There was a long silence on the other end. After a pause, he let out a cold scoff. “Think whatever you want.” The dead dial tone pierced my eardrums, and a wave of absolute exhaustion swept through my bones. It was a very strange feeling. It was like the little boat you relied on to survive suddenly sprang a leak. You watch the hole slowly widen, the water seeping in inch by inch, yet you stubbornly fantasize that you can still patch it up. It isn’t until the water entirely swallows the hull that you suddenly realize: some things don’t yield good results just because you try hard enough. I took a deep breath and went to the bathroom to wash my face. When I came back, Tristan was calling me again. “Clara, bring a box of pads over. It’s not really convenient for me to go buy them right now.” My heart violently sank. Did he really… think I would never leave him? 2 My family runs a convenience store, located right next door to his house. For certain things, it really was convenient. But it was exactly this convenience that gave him the opportunity to stab me in the heart, over and over again. “Here.” My face was flushed red as I angrily threw the box of pads into his chest. But the moment I turned around, he grabbed the hood of my sweatshirt. “What, you’re mad?” He knew exactly why I was mad. I swatted his hand away, gritting my teeth. “Next time you bring someone home, you don’t need to notify me.” He didn’t take it seriously at all. In fact, he looked incredibly satisfied with my visible discomfort, as if seeing me suffer brought him immense joy. I was so furious I turned to leave. But Tristan was tall with a long reach. With a casual stretch of his arm, he grabbed my hood again and pulled me right back. “You’re a grown adult, how can you be this bad at basic things?” He tossed the box onto the entryway console and slowly, meticulously helped fix my flipped-out hood. He was standing entirely too close. His hot breath brushed against my face, instantly making my heart pound like a drum. He was always like this. A slap in the face, followed by a piece of candy. “Tristan, did you see my earrings?” Right as he was fixing my hood, a girl’s whiny voice echoed from behind him. The moment I saw her, I involuntarily took a step back. It was Chloe. This was the girl who had thrown dirty water on me, called me an ugly freak, and framed me for stealing money. The two of them whispered something to each other, making me, the girl standing in the doorway, look like an absolute pathetic third wheel. My fingernails dug crescent moons into my palms. Watching them link arms, preparing to shut the door in my face, I suddenly found a surge of reckless courage and yelled at Tristan’s back. “I don’t want to like you anymore.” His footsteps halted, and the hand resting on Chloe’s waist visibly twitched. He froze for a few seconds before softly telling her, “Go back inside first.” Chloe shot me a look of pure disdain, didn’t say a word, and obediently went back in. That look was so triumphant, written with absolute mockery and contempt for me. But I didn’t actually care about her. Because for all these years, the only person who could truly hurt me was Tristan. He slowly turned around, his brow furrowed, pulled a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it. “You’re cutting me off again?” He said it so casually, entirely convinced that my bark was worse than my bite. I bit my lip hard, wanting to say something vicious, but realized I was exactly as pathetic as he thought I was. I couldn’t force those words out of my mouth a second time. Eventually, Tristan grew impatient. He tossed the cigarette butt on the ground and scoffed, arrogantly delivering his final verdict. “Fine, Clara. You better keep your word. Whoever reaches out first is a pathetic loser.” Psycho. Throwing out ultimatums like a middle schooler. But I have to admit, I was just as stubborn as he was. I stood there for a long time, my hand hovering over his doorbell, hesitating again and again, but ultimately, I never pressed it. “Fine. This time, I’ll keep my word.” 3 In my memory, this wasn’t our first fight. But compared to the countless frictions of our past, the ending this time was eerily quiet. If this were the past, I would have tossed and turned in the dead of night, listened to his favorite Spotify playlist, analyzed his Instagram stories, and meticulously drafted a massive apology paragraph, waiting for him to mercifully forgive my impulsiveness. But this time, I blocked Tristan’s number and went a full month without contacting him. It felt just like the time he got into that car crash; I felt like a layer of my skin had been peeled off. Back then, the doctors made it sound incredibly serious. I thought Tristan was never going to wake up. I was a walking zombie—I even almost burned down the kitchen trying to make fried rice. When my mom came home and saw me curled up in the corner of the kitchen, she smacked my arm in frustration, then pulled me into a heartbroken hug. “If you lose him, are you just going to stop living?” I buried my face in my mom’s chest and didn’t say a word. My mom started crying too. “Our family owes him, but your dad and I can pay it back. My daughter is not allowed to throw her life away on someone who doesn’t love her back.” I nodded at the time, but the second she turned her back, I secretly ran straight to the hospital. Because I owed Tristan. Years ago, during the devastating earthquake that hit our hometown, I was over at his house playing. His mom and I ended up trapped under a collapsed concrete slab. When the rescue teams arrived, Mrs. Sterling insisted they pull me out first. But by the time I woke up in the hospital, she had passed away in the emergency room. I watched Tristan cry until he passed out in front of her grave, and I silently swore to myself that I would live the rest of my life for him. Originally, Tristan used to follow me around everywhere, but after that day, our dynamic completely flipped. I chased after him every single day, happily swallowing whatever bullying or teasing he threw my way. Later, when we got to high school, because of the prominent scar on the center of my forehead and the fact that I only ever hung around Tristan, I became the target of isolation for the entire class. And Chloe was the one who hated me the most. But she was undeniably gorgeous—so gorgeous that Tristan fell for her at first sight. Back then, Tristan was in the AP sciences and I was in the humanities. Our classrooms were on opposite sides of the building, so he made me deliver breakfast to Chloe for him. Every single morning, aside from enduring the bitter heartbreak of playing his wingman, I also had to endure Chloe’s public humiliation. Even though they broke up shortly after, from that point on, Tristan figured out the exact right way to torture me. I watched him cycle through new girlfriends one after another, resigning myself to the fact that this was all we would ever be. Until the beginning of this year, when he got into that car accident. I stayed by his hospital bed day and night for over a month. I thought our relationship was finally shifting into something real, but then Chloe reappeared. She snatched Tristan away again, delivering a brutal blow right to my head. 4 Probably because I had been a depressed zombie for too long, my best friend Maya couldn’t stand it anymore. One morning, she kicked my door in, dragged me into the bathroom to shower and do my makeup, and announced she was taking me out to find a man. “Clara, did Tristan put a hex on you?! I just don’t get it. Finding a three-legged toad is hard, but finding a two-legged man is the easiest thing in the world!” I forced a painfully awkward smile, having absolutely no intention of explaining my long, agonizing history with him. “Clara, are you even listening to me?” “I’m listening,” I mumbled vaguely, though I hadn’t absorbed a single word. Maya saw right through my fake enthusiasm, rolled her eyes, and shoved me out the door. Like a puppet on strings, I let her drag me through the mall for hours. Three hours later, as I was using the ultra-spicy Korean BBQ as an excuse to let my tears and snot flow freely, Maya suddenly clutched her stomach, claiming she had cramps. I literally couldn’t spare my mouth to speak, so I just waved her away, gesturing for her to hurry back. But just as I refocused my attention on the grilling meat, a massive shadow fell over the table. I looked up. A breathtakingly handsome guy, easily 6’2″, slid into the booth right across from me. “This seat is taken,” I warned him. The handsome guy cleared his throat, showing absolutely zero self-awareness to leave. “Hi, Clara. I’m the… uh…” He didn’t seem very familiar with his own script. He glanced down at a cheat sheet in his hand before remembering. “The boyfriend-for-hire your best friend booked. I’m Ethan.” My eyes practically bulged out of my head. I hastily swallowed my food, grabbed Ethan’s phone, and stared at the booking page with tears streaming down my face from the spicy food. “So your username is… Thunderous Invincible Underpants?” Could he actually survive in the companion-for-hire industry with a name like that? His mouth twitched. He clearly wasn’t thrilled about the name either, but he gritted his teeth and nodded. My phone dinged twice. I lit up the screen, and a custom meme from Maya popped up. “Enjoy the boy toy, stay safe. Ps: You’re welcome.” Stay safe?! Is that something you actually say out loud?! Sitting right in front of this incredibly handsome guy, a literal snot bubble blew out of my nose in sheer frustration. Ethan considerately slid a napkin across the table. But before I could even try to explain that this was a massive misunderstanding, he accurately guessed what I was about to say. He leaned his forearms on the table, a smirk tugging at his lips, and stared at me with wide, innocent puppy-dog eyes. “I’m just a small business owner, Clara. No refunds.” As he spoke, he tapped the screen, pointing to the massive non-refundable deposit Maya had paid. Holy crap, two thousand dollars? Did Maya sell a kidney?! “Fine.” After staring at it forever, I helplessly pulled out my phone. “What’s your server rank?” I assumed “boyfriend-for-hire” just meant a gaming buddy to carry me in matches. Since the money was already gone, I figured I might as well get some gaming out of it. Instead, Ethan pulled out a set of car keys. “Come on, we don’t play cheap games like that.” Two minutes later, a sleek black Maybach pulled up to the restaurant doors. He opened the passenger door, resting one hand on the roof, and tilted his head at me. “Get in.” Before I could even formulate a rejection, I was smoothly bundled into the passenger seat. By the time I regained my senses, Ethan was already in the driver’s seat, leaning halfway across my body to buckle my seatbelt for me. He was so close. The warm glow of the streetlights washed over his face, and I could even see the slight flutter of his eyelashes. I instinctively shrank back. “I can do it myself…” He didn’t even look up. He slowly and deliberately clicked the belt into place, as if what he was doing was the most natural thing in the world. “If you can do everything yourself, what do you need me for?” My heart involuntarily seized with pain. A long time ago, Tristan had said those exact same words to me. One second he had been flirting with Chloe, but the moment he saw me twist my ankle, he aggressively insisted on taking me home. I tactfully told him I could walk myself. Annoyed by my rejection, he forcefully shoved me onto the back of his bicycle. “Clara, if you can do everything yourself, what do you need me for?” When those words left his mouth back then, both of us froze. We didn’t speak another word the entire way home. His erratic hot-and-cold behavior constantly made it impossible for me to tell the difference between his genuine care and his toxic games. To the point where, for fifteen years, stepping forward led to heartbreak, and stepping back left me suffocating with regret. 5 Boom. A brilliant firework exploded against the horizon. Without me even noticing, Ethan had driven us all the way to the Santa Monica Pier. Massive blooms of fireworks lit up the night sky, absolutely breathtaking. But when the sky faded back to dark, an inevitable wave of emptiness washed over me. Ethan must have noticed. Leaning against the pier railing, he broke my train of thought. “Clara, want to hold onto a firework?” I was surprised, not even realizing he had dropped the formalities and just called me by my name. “Hold onto a firework?” He nodded, his sharp jawline dipping in and out of the shadows as the next round of fireworks illuminated the sky. “How do I do that?” I asked. He gave a mysterious smile, took a step closer, and a clean, crisp cologne washed over me. It was subtle, and surprisingly, I didn’t hate it. Then I watched as he pulled a sparkler right from behind my ear like a magic trick. I burst out laughing. “Your agency… I mean, your company trains you guys pretty well.” He scratched his nose, grinning with a touch of smug arrogance. “I’ll just take that as a compliment.” I took the sparkler and looked up at him. “Thank you. Honestly, I was having a really miserable day today…” Before I could finish my sentence, the two exact culprits responsible for my miserable day suddenly walked into my line of sight. They spotted me almost instantly. Chloe waved enthusiastically. “Clara! Is that your boyfriend?” Chloe dragged Tristan over by the hand. But in sharp contrast to her glowing smile, Tristan’s face looked absolutely murderous. He shot Ethan a cold, piercing glare, then snapped his head toward me. “What are you doing wandering around so late with some sketchy guy?” The unlit sparkler froze stiffly in my hand. I had actually told Tristan countless times that I wanted to come to the pier to watch the fireworks. But year after year, I came alone, and I went home alone. He was truly a master at dealing out disappointment. Faced with his hostile interrogation, my expression went ice cold. “The sketchiest guy I’ve ever known is you.” He choked on his words, his brows knitting together, ready to lecture me. Even though he was technically two months younger than me, around him, I always felt like a subservient child. “Come back with me.” He reached out, trying to grab my arm. I instinctively recoiled from his touch. But the very next second, a heavy warmth draped over my shoulders. Ethan had wrapped his jacket around me and pulled me directly into his chest. The ocean breeze whipped his jacket around us. In the freezing tension, Ethan gave a rogue, insolent smirk. “A guy’s girlfriend should be taken home by her own guy, right, senior?” And then I watched as Tristan’s face turned completely black. 6 Ethan kept his arm around me and walked me straight toward that aggressively flashy Maybach. Just as I buckled my seatbelt, Chloe came jogging up to the car. Wearing a polite, flawlessly sweet smile, she leaned down against the passenger window. Her low-cut top offered a very deliberate, peek-a-boo view of her cleavage. “Hey handsome, I saw you bought sparklers. Could I get one?” I don’t know exactly when it started, but Chloe developed a sick obsession with stealing things from me—and she succeeded nine times out of ten. I instinctively clenched my fists, terrified that Ethan was about to become her newest trophy. But this time, I was dead wrong. “No.” “Excuse me?” She clearly had never experienced the concept of being rejected by a man before, her mouth falling open in exaggerated, soap-opera shock. I looked up just in time to see Ethan slam the car door shut, brutally mocking her. “What, you don’t have a man to buy them for you?” Without another word, he slammed on the gas, peeling out and splashing mud all over Chloe’s designer shoes. It was petty, but God, was it satisfying. On the drive back, I tried to fill the silence. “You called him senior back there. You know Tristan?” He glanced at me through the rearview mirror. His face didn’t show much emotion, but there was a distinct, simmering hostility underneath. “Yeah. He tore up a love letter of mine once.” That was when I learned that the three of us all went to the same high school. Except Ethan was two years below me. He was currently a junior in college. Thinking back to what an absolute, arrogant terror Tristan was in high school… Yeah, it made sense that he made enemies. I tried to offer a few comforting words, and before I knew it, we were parked outside my apartment. “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely make sure Maya leaves you a five-star review.” He looked a little speechless but smiled, thanked me, and walked me up to my door. But the moment I walked inside, my phone buzzed. It was a friend request from Tristan. “Who is that guy?” I didn’t reply. A few minutes later, he sent another text. “Are you done throwing this tantrum?” Ah. So a month of agonizing heartbreak was, in his eyes, just me throwing a little tantrum. My chest ached. I typed back: “You said it yourself. Whoever reaches out first is a pathetic loser.” There was no reply after that. I waited a few minutes, then set my phone down with a massive sigh of relief. It felt like… rejecting him wasn’t actually that hard after all. 7 After graduating college, I got a job as an editor for a web novel publisher. The office was pretty far from my house, and I didn’t want to waste my life commuting, so I told my parents I wanted to rent an apartment near work. They assumed I just wanted to avoid bumping into Tristan every day, so they enthusiastically agreed. My dad even slipped me an extra five hundred dollars, telling me he’d rather I rent a slightly more expensive place in a safer neighborhood. So after the holidays, I moved to a complex on the south side of the city. Maya originally promised to help me move, but she got stuck working mandatory overtime, so she sent Ethan instead. “I saw you had a ton of boxes, and I still have two hours left on that boyfriend-for-hire voucher. Might as well use it, right?” I laughed, thinking about how unbelievably unlucky the guy was to get booked for manual labor. But Ethan didn’t show a single ounce of impatience. Weekend traffic was terrible. He told me to wait inside and that he’d be there soon. I felt bad making him do all the work, so I decided to start hauling boxes down to the sidewalk myself. Just as I carried the third box out, Tristan walked up the street. “Where are you going?” I can’t perfectly describe the feeling. I admit that seeing him again still caused a tiny ripple in my deadened heart, but that fearless courage to walk through fire for him? It was completely, permanently gone. Honestly… he was just kind of annoying now. “Moving,” I answered dismissively. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his brow furrowing. I didn’t want to engage, so I just kept my head down and adjusted the box. Seeing me ignore him, Tristan’s garbage temper flared up again. He slammed his hand down on the box I was trying to lift, striking a pose that clearly said he wasn’t moving until I answered him. My anger instantly flared. “Tristan, do you need something?” His voice rose to match mine. “I can’t talk to you unless I need something?!” “Right!” He froze. I froze too. I let out a long breath, smoothing out my tangled emotions. “If you don’t need anything, stop coming to find me. If you do need something… go find Chloe. You only ever believe her anyway, right?” I screamed at him, and he looked genuinely stunned. His voice actually sounded a little wounded. “When have I ever not believed you?” When did you ever? During our senior year of high school, the class funds went missing. While the teacher was rushing to check the security cameras, Chloe publicly started a rumor that I stole the money. Her reasoning? I was the poorest kid in class, and two days prior, my mom had knitted me a brand-new scarf. She insisted the scarf was bought with stolen money. Even though the teacher told everyone not to accuse anyone before the footage was reviewed, Chloe and her little minions locked me in a storage closet, demanding I hand over the $78 class fund. I still remember the exact moment Tristan kicked the storage room door open and hurled a basketball at one of the girls. My heart swelled with desperate hope, waiting for him to defend me. But the words that actually left his mouth were: “How much did she take? I’ll pay it back for her.” See? It only took $78 to completely shatter a girl’s dignity. Tristan had never, not for a single second, truly believed in me. In that exact moment, I dropped all my expectations of him and learned that the only person you can ever rely on is yourself. That was also the very first time I told Tristan I didn’t want to like him anymore. I yanked the final cardboard box out from under his hand. “Go home. I can move my own things.” My icy attitude made Tristan’s face sink further and further. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but was interrupted by a sudden voice. “Looks lively over here. Need a hand, beautiful?” 8 Honestly, when the car pulled up to my new apartment complex, I was still a little dazed. When Ethan arrived earlier, he instantly stepped right between me and Tristan, looking less like a guy hired to help me move and more like a guy ready to throw a punch for me. But before I could dwell on it, a more pressing question popped into my head. “Does moving furniture cost extra?” I remembered that physical labor wasn’t listed on their company’s service menu. Maya was loaded, but as a junior editor, two thousand dollars was my entire month’s rent. Ethan laughed, unbuckled his seatbelt, crossed his arms playfully, and sized me up. “Of course it does. You weren’t planning on getting my services for free, were you?” My heart skipped a beat. “H… how much?” I swear, if it was over five hundred dollars, I was abandoning the car and fleeing on foot. He stared right at me, his eyes practically drowning me in warm, liquid amber. He stared so intensely I actually got scared. He leaned closer and closer, and right when I thought he was going to kiss me, he looked down and laughed, flashing two faint dimples. “Look how scared you are. Just buy me lunch, okay? I’ve been starving all morning.” I paused, then eagerly agreed. So after moving the boxes, we went to a trendy Korean BBQ spot. I have to admit, being young is great. Not only did we use his student discount, but we turned heads the entire time. Of course, it was mostly because Ethan was ridiculously handsome, which meant I caught the crossfire of all that attention. Someone inevitably started whispering about my face. “Look at that girl. She has a massive scar on her head. Why doesn’t she just get plastic surgery?” “Who knows, probably can’t afford it. But that guy is so hot, why would he ever go for an ugly freak like her?” The needle-sharp insults made my stomach drop. I reached for my head—crap, I forgot to wear a hat today. After the accident, my dad considered getting me reconstructive surgery. But my mom was running the little store by herself, money was tight, and my dad’s injured leg required expensive physical therapy. I felt too guilty burdening them, so I just kept putting the surgery off. I frantically tried to pull my bangs down to cover it. Right at that moment, Ethan suddenly leaned across the table. His long, elegant fingers gently tapped my forehead, stopping my panicked movements. “Please, scars are incredibly cool. You have to be so lucky to grow little wings right on your forehead.” A gruesome, jagged scar, yet he described it with such beautiful, romantic poetry. He tucked the loose strands of hair behind my ear, handling me as gently as if I were a priceless, fragile treasure. This was the very first time in my life someone told me I didn’t need to hide my ugly scar. The girls at the next table were still whispering and giggling. Ethan stood up straight, his brows instantly knitting together in fury. He walked over, leaned both hands heavily on their table, and stared dead into the eyes of the loudest girl. Her face instantly flushed bright red. “Are… are you looking for me?” He flashed a vicious grin, and under her awestruck gaze, he slowly spoke: “Yeah. Just coming over to hear the garbage you’re talking.” The girl froze. I froze too. Her friend panicked, glaring at Ethan and snapping, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything! You might be handsome, but your mouth is absolutely toxic!” Ethan laughed, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, so you do understand that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.” “Why is it okay for you to talk trash behind someone’s back, but it’s not okay for me to insult you to your face?” The girl choked, but immediately shot back: “Even if we were wrong, you’re a guy! How can you be so classless and verbally attack women like that?” Ethan let out a cold scoff. “Sorry, I only reserve my manners for people I actually like.” As he said it, he turned his head and looked right at me, before turning back to the girl: “As for you, take a good look in the mirror and ask yourself if you even deserve basic respect.” By this point, several waiters had rushed over. I didn’t want to make a huge scene, so I tugged gently on Ethan’s sleeve. “Let it go. I’m used to it.” Ethan wanted to say more, but sensing my plea, he swept a final, glacial glare over the two women, then tenderly ruffled my hair. “No one has the right to define a person by their appearance, and no one has the right to use appearance as a weapon to hurt others. Clara, I know exactly how incredible you are. Do not waste a single second feeling sad over trash like them.” I listened in a daze. A rush of heat flooded my chest, followed by an inexplicable wave of sorrow. Because I suddenly realized that Tristan had never, ever said anything like that to me. Even though every time he saw someone mocking my scar, he would aggressively chase them away, afterward, he would only ever look at me coldly and say: “Clara, pull your hat down.” He and Tristan were so completely, fundamentally different. A few minutes later, the manager’s apologies pulled me back to reality. They moved us to a private booth and gave us a free plate of prime rib as an apology, so I didn’t push the issue. After we ate, he walked me home. We strolled side-by-side down the sidewalk. He linked his hands behind his head and gave a massive stretch. As he moved, his black hoodie rode up, revealing a flash of toned abs. I happened to catch a glimpse, and my face instantly caught fire. Ethan noticed my sudden awkwardness, took a quick step forward, and blocked my path. “What’s wrong, beautiful?” A teasing half-smile played on his lips. He absolutely knew I saw. I cleared my throat, quickly changing the subject to thank him for lunch. But I forgot that if you give this guy an inch, he takes a mile. “If you really want to thank me, go on a date with me next time.” “A date?” “There’s a new amusement park opening up. My little brother won three VIP tickets and is forcing me to go. I refuse to be the third wheel to him and his girlfriend, so I need to find someone to come with me.” He leaned down, biting his lip, putting on his best pathetic, abused-puppy act. “Clara, being a single dog abandoned by a gross, overly-affectionate couple is incredibly depressing. Have mercy on me.” I wanted to point out that he could just not go, but staring into his dazzling, star-filled eyes, I couldn’t find a single reason to say no.

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1 On my deathbed, I begged my son: “Donate my heart to your father, Alistair Walker. He’s had cardiomyopathy for thirty years—it’s the last thing I can do for him.” But my son brushed me off impatiently. “Enough with the false kindness. Dad isn’t even sick.” I thought I’d misheard. “What?” He sneered. “If you hadn’t refused to divorce him, why would he have faked an illness to be with Aunt Olivia all these years?” I trembled, demanding proof. He handed me a marriage certificate—Alistair Walker and Olivia Thorne, smiling intimately. A furious pain shot through my heart. The home I’d built for half my life was a complete sham. My son’s face was cold. “Aunt Olivia is my real mother. Your own baby was drowned long ago. Back then, Dad and Olivia lost control, leading to her premature labor and heavy bleeding—she gave birth to me the same day as you. Dad was so shaken he developed heart palpitations. Fearing you’d never stop, he faked the illness for thirty years.” I collapsed, spitting blood. “Why tell me now?” His eyes burned with hatred. “You stole her place for thirty years. Now, on your deathbed, you want Dad to owe you gratitude? Why should he?” My mouth filled with bitterness as I gasped my last breath in regret. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the delivery room, next to his sister-in-law’s. An intense pain surged from below—I was in labor. … My body felt like it had been torn apart, lying utterly spent on the bed. The nurse brought the baby over for me to see. It was a boy, with a wrinkled little face and a loud cry. I made an excuse to go to the bathroom, enduring the intense pain, and slowly walked towards the restroom at the end of the corridor. The restroom was very close to Olivia Thorne’s room. The muffled sounds of conversation drifted from next door. It was Alistair Walker’s joyous voice. “Olivia, look, he has a birthmark on his shoulder, just like mine.” Olivia’s voice was weak but smiling. “It’s all your fault. I was almost due, but you just couldn’t help yourself yesterday… causing my premature labor.” Alistair chuckled softly. “My bad. But a premature birth is good, too; saves us from having to find an excuse to stall after Audrey gives birth.” He paused, “Don’t worry, after she got pregnant, just looking at her belly made me sick. I never touched her once. Later, I’ll have the doctor write a certificate saying my heart condition has worsened, so we can’t share a bed anymore.” Listening, my nails dug into my palms. When I was pregnant, I was dizzy with morning sickness, and he only said his heart was bothering him, afraid of noise. I felt sorry for him, enduring it alone. Later, he wasn’t as affectionate, and I thought it was due to his poor health and irritability. Turns out, he just found me in the way. I took a deep breath and sent a message to the male nurse I had immediately bribed after my rebirth: [You can switch the baby’s name tags now.] Then I deleted the message, returned to my room, and feigned sleep. Not long after, I heard someone come in. I didn’t open my eyes, listening as the person picked up a baby and quietly left. The next day, Alistair Walker came to the hospital, his face still pale. Following him were several doctors and Olivia Thorne’s hospital bed. She was propped up on the bed, looking weak. Alistair walked to my bedside. “Darling, you’ve worked hard.” I looked at him, a cold sneer in my heart. He spoke as if casually, “My sister-in-law’s baby didn’t make it; it was a premature birth and died. She’s upset, so I had her moved to this VIP room for a few days to rest quietly and recuperate.” I said nothing. “She is your sister-in-law, after all, and my brother passed away young. Since we’re all family, I thought she could be the baby’s godmother, what do you think?” I looked into his eyes; there wasn’t a trace of guilt. He packaged his affair with his sister-in-law and the child they had as a husband’s compassion for his sister-in-law. “Alright,” I nodded indifferently. Alistair nodded, satisfied, then turned to take his thermos out to get water. My gaze swept over the postpartum pads by my bedside. They were Olivia Thorne’s size. Even the postpartum pads he prepared for me were bought to fit her figure. I suddenly felt utterly ridiculous. Alistair left with the cup, and the doctors also left after settling in. Olivia Thorne, however, slowly rose, her steps instinctively moving towards the crib. “Olivia, you just gave birth, don’t move around too much.” My voice turned cold. She glanced at me, smiling gently. “I just want to see the baby.” “No need, he just fell asleep.” I instinctively shielded the crib, pushing her away. Olivia suddenly shrieked, collapsing to the floor. “Olivia!” Alistair cried out, rushing over. A dark red patch seeped through the hem of her hospital gown; it was blood from a burst wound. “Audrey, I just wanted to see your child, why did you push me… Are you afraid I’d bring bad luck to the baby? Boo-hoo-hoo…” Alistair abruptly looked up, his gaze at me like knives. “Audrey Hayes! My sister-in-law just had surgery, why would you push her?!” “You’re absolutely insane! I’ll have my sister-in-law transferred to a platinum suite, you need to calm down!” For several days, Alistair didn’t visit me. My wound throbbed faintly, but I endured it, never once pressing the call bell. On the fifth day, my mother arrived. When she pushed open the door, I was leaning against the headboard, looking out the window. The first glance at me brought tears to her eyes. “How did you get so thin?” I smiled and said I was fine, that all mothers looked like this after childbirth. She didn’t believe it, insisting on pulling back the blanket to look at my wound. The gauze was soaked in blood. My mother’s tears immediately fell, and she frantically called the nurse. I was helped to the examination room for new stitches. The disinfectant touching the torn flesh made me gasp, but I didn’t utter a sound. My mother stood beside me, her hands trembling. “Is Alistair treating you badly?” I didn’t want her to worry. “No, Mom, he’s not well, he can’t manage.” My mother opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but swallowed it back. “Your uncle will be here today. Whatever grievances you have, tell him. He’ll make things right for you.” I paused. Uncle Julian Thorne, CEO of Thorne Industries. In Ashton, his word could shake half the city. In these years since I married into the Walker family, my uncle and I hadn’t had much interaction. I always thought not to burden him, never bothered him. This time, I might not be able to hold on alone. After my mother left to pick up my uncle, I went to the restroom at the end of the corridor to wash my face. When I returned, the crib was empty. “Where’s the baby?” I asked the nurse anxiously. The nurse didn’t even look up. “Mr. Walker said he took him to his room, to have his sister-in-law help look after him.” My mind buzzed. I turned and ran to Olivia Thorne’s room. The male nurse followed behind me. He was the one I had arranged beforehand, and he’d been staying nearby these past few days. As I pushed open the door, I saw Olivia half-propped on the bed, her hospital gown half-open, breastfeeding. Alistair sat in a chair by the bed, a smile on his lips. I rushed over and snatched the baby from Olivia’s arms. The baby was startled awake and cried loudly. Olivia hastily covered her chest, her eyes instantly red. “Audrey, what are you doing?!” Alistair stood up, his face darkening. “Uncle Julian is here to bring the baby a welcoming gift. I’m taking him now.” I hugged the baby tightly, my voice as cold as ice. Alistair frowned. “Why are you in such a hurry? Olivia’s breasts are engorged and uncomfortable. What’s wrong with letting the baby help her?” I ignored him and turned to leave. The next second, Olivia grabbed the baby’s tiny arm. The baby cried as if his heart would break. I pushed her away. “You’re pinching him?” Olivia recoiled her hand, tears instantly flowing. “I didn’t… I just wanted to help him steady himself…” The male nurse couldn’t stand it anymore and rushed forward to shield me. “Miss, the baby is still so young, you can’t do this—” Before he could finish, two bodyguards burst through the door, pinning the male nurse to the ground, one on each side. Alistair Walker looked down at him, a cold sneer on his face. “You’re just a nurse, daring to interfere with the master?” With that, several slaps rained down, one, two, three. The male nurse’s face quickly swelled, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. “Let him go!” I tried to pull the bodyguard away, but another held my shoulder, unable to move. “Send him to the police station,” Alistair said lightly. “Bold to harm my child.” He took the baby from my arms. The baby was still crying, the red marks on his arm alarming. Alistair looked down, then suddenly froze. He turned the baby over, pushed aside his tiny clothes, exposing his shoulder. No birthmark. “Where’s the birthmark? Where’s the birthmark on the child’s shoulder?” The baby’s ear-splitting cries felt like daggers in my heart. I lunged to snatch him back, but Alistair kicked me in the lower abdomen. My freshly stitched wound immediately burst open, excruciating pain shooting through my entire body. I curled up on the ground, unable to even cry out. Alistair held the baby, looking down at me, his face ashen. “Audrey Hayes, have you been seeing someone else? Whose bastard child is this?” Sweat poured from my forehead from the pain. I gritted my teeth, refusing to speak. My silence infuriated him. He sneered, his gaze turning to the male nurse, who had fainted on the floor. “Not talking, huh? Then it must be an affair between you and this nurse.” He handed the baby to Olivia Thorne, motioning to a bodyguard. “Disable his lower half for the rest of his life.” “You wouldn’t dare!” I struggled to get up, but another bodyguard pinned me down. Fists and feet rained down on the male nurse, specifically targeting his groin. He was already unconscious, but his body still convulsed reflexively, blood pooling from his mouth. “Stop! You’re breaking the law!” I shrieked, my voice completely distorted. Alistair smoothed his sleeves, his tone sarcastic. “You cheated in our marriage, gave birth to a bastard with a strange man, and dare to talk to me about breaking the law? Do you believe I’ll make you leave with nothing, not a single penny?” Olivia held the baby, crying as if her heart would break. “Sister, please give the baby back to me, okay? We won’t pursue this, as long as the baby is safe…” I clenched my jaw, refusing to give in. Soon, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. My mother arrived first. Seeing the mess on the floor, her face instantly went white. “Audrey! What’s going on?!” She rushed over and hugged me, her voice trembling. Alistair gestured to a bodyguard, who kicked my mother’s knee, making her buckle. My mother, caught off guard, fell to her knees. “Alistair Walker! What are you doing?!” my mother shrieked. Alistair’s eyes were icy. “Audrey, I’ll ask you only one thing: where is the child? If you don’t tell me, your mother is next.” My mother’s eyes widened, her whole body trembling. “Are you insane? Try laying a finger on me! My brother, Julian Thorne…” Before she could finish, a bodyguard slapped her across the face. Several bodyguards began to hit my mother from both sides. Blood streamed down my mother’s chin, her hair disheveled, half her face swollen beyond recognition. But she gritted her teeth, not uttering a sound. She was a martyr’s widow. When my father died, she raised me alone, never bowing her head to anyone. But now, she was on her knees, being slapped like an animal. I charged forward like a madwoman, but two bodyguards held my arms, immobilizing me. “Alistair Walker! You’re crazy! She’s my mother! A martyr’s widow! I’ll see you rot in jail!” Alistair sneered. “A widow whose husband died, what trouble can she cause? If reporters come, I’ll just say your mother couldn’t stand the loneliness and found lovers for herself and for you. What’s wrong with me, Alistair Walker, cleaning up my household?” He walked to me, gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Where is the child? Where have you hidden him?” I looked at his hypocritical face, and suddenly, I laughed. “You yourselves killed that child, and now you ask me where he is?” Alistair’s hand froze. Olivia’s crying stopped too. “What did you say?” Alistair’s voice changed. Olivia’s face drained of all color in an instant. She looked down at the baby in her arms, her lips trembling violently. She shrieked, her voice sharp enough to pierce eardrums, “You’re lying! That’s impossible!” “No… impossible…” Alistair’s voice began to tremble. His legs weakened, and he took a step back, bumping into the bedside table. Olivia had completely broken down, cradling the baby and sobbing hysterically. “My child! Give me back my child!” Looking at the two of them, I felt not a shred of satisfaction. Only a coldness seeping from my very bones. Alistair suddenly looked up, his eyes bloodshot, like a cornered beast. “Where did you hide my son?! Tell me!” He rushed forward and grabbed my neck, his fingers tightening. I couldn’t breathe, and my vision blurred. “Not talking? Fine.” He suddenly let go, turning to the bodyguards. “Drag her to the operating room. Take out her uterus. Let her never be a mother again.” My mother shrieked, “You wouldn’t dare! Julian Thorne won’t let you get away with this!” Alistair acted as if he hadn’t heard, waving his hand. The bodyguards dragged me out. I struggled, my hospital gown ripped, exposing my shoulder. People in the corridor glanced over, but no one dared to step forward. The operating room door was pushed open, and cold air rushed out. I was pressed onto the operating table, my hands and feet bound, my clothes stripped away. The smell of disinfectant made me want to vomit. “Begin,” Alistair commanded the doctor, his face cold. Just as the surgical knife was about to descend, the door was kicked open from the outside. “I’d like to see who dares lay a hand on her!!”

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1 My husband and I were in an arranged marriage. In a union built on mutual benefit, he still treated me like a princess. Until the company charity run, when his female assistant twisted her ankle. She didn’t want to drop out, crying that she absolutely had to get a finisher’s medal. My husband, without a second thought, carried her on his back for the final mile. When he crossed the finish line, he was gasping for air, but still smiling, saying, “I’m not tired.” I said nothing. That night, I had the driver take the car to the winding mountain road. I threw the spare tire from the trunk at him. “Carry this.” “You said you weren’t tired, keep going.” A man who overstepped. If he could be managed, I’d keep him. Otherwise, he could go back to where he came from. “Ah~” A scream echoed as Olivia Thorne fell on the track. Her knees were scraped raw, her ankle twisted. The medical team was just about to enter the field when Adam Lagerfelt, who was about to cross the finish line, immediately turned back and rushed to Olivia’s side. I frowned and cleared my throat. Adam, however, acted as if he hadn’t heard anything. “Olivia, are you alright?” He rubbed Olivia’s ankle, his eyes overflowing with concern. The distance between them was as close as a painful thorn. My vice president cautiously asked, “Ms. Hayes, should I have someone take Olivia off the field first?” I waved my hand. For three years of marriage, Adam had always been well-behaved, maintaining a strict boundary with other women. This was the first time he had shown such tenderness towards another woman in front of me. I wanted to see if he dared to cross the line. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lagerfelt.” “I can push through, I really want to finish and get a medal.” “I… I can’t let you down.” Olivia’s eyes welled up. She shakily stood up, took one step, and fell again. “Darling, if Olivia withdraws, can she still get a medal? She’s young and has a strong sense of pride.” Adam asked me in a pleading tone. I looked at him with disappointment and shook my head. “Mr. Lagerfelt, don’t make Ms. Hayes uncomfortable.” “I’m your subordinate, I won’t let you down!” Olivia struggled to get up, limping into the track. Then, losing her balance, she fell into Adam’s arms. “Olivia, I’ll help you achieve your wish!” In front of everyone, Adam knelt down, letting Olivia climb onto his back. He carried Olivia, straining, as he sprinted towards the finish line. The previously lively track instantly fell silent. Only Olivia’s delicate cheering could be heard. All the executives exchanged bewildered glances. I said nothing. The moment Adam carried Olivia across the finish line, Olivia cried with excitement. They hugged each other, thrilled. Adam’s face was pale, breathing heavily. Still smiling, saying, “Not tired.” Olivia got her medal. Adam looked like a hero. I led the applause, a cold sneer playing on my lips. Adam stopped all movement, nervously looking at me. “Darling, let me explain.” I wasn’t interested in listening. I turned and walked away. That night, Adam squeezed into my Rolls-Royce. “Darling, let me explain.” Still the same words. I ignored him, letting the driver take the car to the foot of Serpent’s Peak. Adam looked surprised. “Darling, what are we doing here so late? Taking a stroll?” The driver took a spare tire from the trunk and threw it in front of him. I pointed at the spare tire, then at the mountain peak. “Carry it to the top of the mountain, then run back down.” “A hundred pounds, the same weight as her.” “You said you weren’t tired, keep going.” Adam’s face went white. He tried to force a smile. “Darling, don’t be jealous.” “Olivia and I truly have nothing going on.” “If you don’t like it, I’ll throw away her medal when I get back.” He tried to hug me, but I pushed him away. “Adam Lagerfelt, know your place.” “Maintaining boundaries with other women, that’s my bottom line.” “Now, do exactly as I say, immediately.” “This is a lesson for you. If you can’t complete it, then it’s time for a replacement.” I got into the car and closed the door. Outside the window, Adam’s body was trembling. A drone followed behind him. The countdown began. Twelve miles of mountain road, two hours. Adam brought this upon himself. He quickly hoisted the tire onto his back and began running up the winding mountain road. The drone chased him, filming his every move. I sat in the car, monitoring his pathetic struggle. When Adam’s legs cramped and his knees were scraped raw, I reminded him he’d only gone one mile. When he ran and vomited, scrambling and tumbling after the tire, I didn’t even glance at him. It wasn’t until Adam collapsed halfway up the mountain, incontinent and convulsing, that I coldly uttered, “Send him to the emergency room.” When Adam woke up, he immediately deleted Olivia’s contact information in front of me. He proactively had her transferred to a different department and deliberately kept his distance from her. Compared to before, he was even more gentle and considerate towards me. I thought he had truly reformed, truly understood. Until I received a smoke alarm alert from the Southwood Manor. The moment I opened the security footage, a chill ran through me. 2 My newly purchased manor was packed with dozens of people. They were throwing a wild party, trampling on my custom-made Italian sofa with their shoes, dancing. Bottles of rare Lafite from my cellar were opened and guzzled! The ornamental fish, worth thousands each, were fished out of the tank and grilled! The barbecue smoke had triggered the alarm! A suffocating feeling tightened in my chest. Among the crowd, I spotted a familiar face—Olivia Thorne! She was wearing my brand-new Hermès haute couture. It had arrived last week; she’d found it in the closet, and I hadn’t even worn it once. I dialed Adam, attaching a screenshot of the security footage. “Explain this to me. What exactly is going on?” “Don’t tell me you don’t know.” Adam was silent on the other end of the line. After a long pause, he quietly said, “Olivia’s graduation party, they had nowhere else to go.” “I thought since you leave the house empty, you don’t live there, so I lent it to Olivia.” “Please don’t make things difficult for her.” I laughed, a bitter, exasperated sound. I retorted, “Adam Lagerfelt, that’s my house. What right do you have to lend it out?” “Get them out of there immediately.” “Furthermore, all damages will be compensated at full value.” Adam immediately became anxious. “Darling, Olivia is still a child, you don’t need to be so hard on her.” “Besides, this small amount of money is nothing to you.” “They’ll go home once they’re tired of playing…” I didn’t have the patience to hear him out. I hung up directly. No need to be so hard on her? Nothing to me? Oh, great, very generous of him. But Adam forgot, though outwardly we were in an arranged marriage. His family, the Lagerfelts, were merely a minor clan in the capital. Our so-called marriage was, in fact, him marrying into my family, a social climb. Without the support of my family, the Hayes, his family would have been swallowed whole long ago! He, Adam Lagerfelt, was merely a househusband, nothing more. And he wanted to act like the master? I immediately called my assistant, gathered my bodyguards, and headed straight to the Southwood Manor. As they were partying hardest, my Rolls-Royce pulled up to the entrance. I immediately cornered Olivia, who was trying to hide in the crowd. I ripped off the Chanel dress she was wearing. Shredding it in front of everyone, I flung the pieces at her face. Anything she touched, I considered defiled. “Olivia Thorne, is this your home?” “Ms. Hayes, I… I…” She lowered her head, squeezing out a few tears. Looking utterly pitiful. As if she had done nothing wrong, and I was bullying her. The crowd of students behind her exchanged glances. “Olivia, didn’t you say the manor was yours?” “So you were lying.” “How vain and shameless.” They tried to leave, but my bodyguards blocked the doorway. Half an hour later, my secretary tallied the damages. A total of fifteen million, three hundred twenty thousand dollars! I flung the bill in front of Olivia. “Pay up.” The students quickly backed away. “Olivia, this has nothing to do with us!” “Exactly, if I’d known it wasn’t your place, I wouldn’t have come!” “You better pay the lady, don’t drag us down.” Everyone was desperately trying to distance themselves from Olivia. Olivia’s tears splattered on the floor. She cried, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry, Ms. Hayes, I didn’t mean to.” “I don’t have money, I can’t pay.” Tears were her best weapon. Especially against Adam. But with me, they were useless. “No money? No money, then go to jail.” I was about to call the police. Olivia dropped to her knees. “Olivia!” Adam burst into the manor. 3 “Olivia is still a child, she really didn’t mean to.” “This is all my fault.” “Darling, let’s just drop it.” “Besides, this amount of money is nothing.” Adam tenderly wiped Olivia’s tears. He then tried to touch me with those hands that had touched Olivia, but I evaded him. “Drop it? You’re remarkably broad-minded.” “Then you can pay for her.” I took the POS machine from my secretary and handed it to Adam. He immediately fell silent. I pointed at Olivia. “Bank card.” She didn’t move. “Bank card. Don’t make me repeat myself a third time.” Adam tried to intervene again, but meeting my gaze, he dared not speak. Olivia took out her bank card. She entered the PIN on the POS machine. Exactly twenty thousand dollars, no more, no less. I had my secretary write an IOU and threw it to Olivia. “Your outstanding debt is fifteen million, three hundred thousand dollars.” “Pay it back within five years. Don’t forget.” At this, I glanced at Adam. His face was grim. “You are an adult, not some child.” “When you make a mistake, you pay the price.” “No one is exempt.” I emphasized the last sentence. Adam lowered his head. That evening, Adam proactively prepared dinner. There was my favorite boiled shrimp. He personally peeled the shrimp and placed it in front of me. Yet, he remained silent throughout. It was almost as if he was sulking. I looked into his eyes, neither touching nor eating the food. I knew what he wanted. There were certain boundaries I needed to make clear to him. “Adam Lagerfelt, I despise men who lack boundaries.” “If there’s a next time, you know what I’m capable of.” Adam bit his lip. He seemed somewhat troubled. After a long silence, he forced out a stiff smile. He gave a stiff nod. It didn’t matter. I no longer held any expectations for him anyway. As long as he could honestly remain a househusband. Stop crossing the line, stop disgusting me. I wouldn’t touch him. But if… A sharp ringtone interrupted my thoughts. Adam picked up his phone, cautiously glancing at me. He hung up the call. After that, his phone rang incessantly. “Olivia Thorne?” “Yes.” “Answer it. Don’t forget what I said.” I took a sip of red wine, looking at him. Adam put the call on speaker. Olivia’s sobs came through the speaker. “Mr. Lagerfelt, I’ve been expelled from school.” “My parents are ashamed of me, they don’t want me either.” Adam’s face changed dramatically. He quickly grabbed his phone, cradling it in his palm. His face was filled with tension, full of anxiety. “Olivia, where are you? Don’t you dare do anything rash!” I sighed. Looked at him with disappointment. Shook my head with disappointment. “Mr. Lagerfelt, please tell Ms. Hayes I can’t pay her back. I’m sorry.” “Mr. Lagerfelt, I want to call you Mr. Lagerfelt one last time.” “It was my honor to meet you. Goodbye, my Mr. Lagerfelt.” 4 Olivia hung up the phone. Adam tried calling back repeatedly, but couldn’t get through. “Olivia? Olivia! Don’t you dare do anything foolish!” “Wait for me! Wait for me!” He grabbed his jacket, about to rush out. I asked him, “Are you sure you want to go?” Adam glared fiercely at me. He grabbed the plate of peeled shrimp and smashed it to smithereens. “Kelly Hayes, are you even human?!” “If you hadn’t pushed Olivia, would she be feeling so desperate?!” He overturned the table, destroying the entire dinner. He rushed out, without a second thought. I watched it all, coldly. Didn’t say another word. He wasted his last chance. Exhausted all my patience. And strangled the last possibility of this marriage. My lawyer immediately drafted divorce papers. I sent them to Adam at once. What I received in return was a barrage of angry voice messages. “What the hell is going on, and you’re still getting jealous?!” “If anything happens to Olivia, I’m not done with you!” Because of Olivia’s one desperate message. Adam’s thorns were completely exposed. Not long after, my secretary sent me a screenshot from a social media post. Olivia’s. The accompanying picture was a hotel room, with Adam’s back in a bathrobe. [“Thank you, Mr. President, for filling my desperate life with starlight.”] Then came my secretary’s call. Her voice was trembling. “Ms. Hayes, Mr. Lagerfelt is planning to collude with other shareholders to remove you…” I took a deep breath. Good, very good. Adam Lagerfelt, you’re quite something. Soon you’ll find out the consequences. The next day’s shareholder meeting was chaired by Adam. Olivia attended. All shareholders were present, except for me. No one had informed me. Adam raised the microphone. “Alright, I announce that all resolutions of this shareholder meeting are passed.” “Ms. Olivia Thorne is appointed Vice President of the Group, with an annual salary of fifteen million, three hundred thousand dollars.” “Kelly Hayes is hereby removed from all positions within the Group, effective immediately!” The applause in the conference room almost blew the roof off. Just as Adam was handing Olivia her appointment letter. I kicked open the conference room door.

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1 It was my first month standing in for my sister at university when a strange man burst into the classroom, cradling a baby. Under the gaze of the entire class, he thrust the wailing infant into my arms. “This is your child, and you will take responsibility!” I was utterly bewildered. When had my sister even gotten a boyfriend? He spoke with an air of absolute entitlement, giving me his demands. “Seraphina Amick, if you don’t want me to make a huge scene, you’ll agree to three conditions.” “One, pay twenty thousand a month in child support until the child turns eighteen. Two, immediately transfer two villas to the child, fulfilling your duty as a mother. Three, if you don’t want to marry me, you’ll provide the dowry for my next wife, to give the child a complete family.” The whole class erupted in gasps, and I, looking down at the tiny infant in my arms, grew even more confused. My sister’s child? But she had a congenital heart condition and was currently hospitalized, unable to conceive. So, did he mean I was the mother of the child he spoke of? But I was a man, for crying out loud! The man continued to rant, accusing me as if I truly were an irresponsible mother. Faced with such baseless accusations, I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh, raising my voice to challenge him. “You say this is my child, but where’s the proof?” “Are you just going to slander someone’s reputation with empty words? Who knows where you picked up this child!” The man, instead of flinching at my challenge, smirked, as if he’d anticipated this very response. He slowly pulled out a neatly folded paper from his pocket, unfolding it before me for everyone to see. “I knew you’d try to deny it, so open your eyes and see! This paternity test report, in black and white, clearly states that you, Seraphina Amick, are the biological mother of this child!” “The date? Just yesterday afternoon, fresh off the press!” He waved the report, his voice rising a few decibels. “I prepared for this. I specifically asked your roommate to get some of your hair and personally took it for the test.” “Now, with witnesses and evidence, you must take responsibility for this child!” My roommate? A flash of memory crossed my mind: a few days ago, Tinsley Evans had been unusually eager to get close to me. She’d either claimed I had leaves in my hair or offered to braid it. At the time, I’d tried to keep my distance due to the gender difference. Now it seemed she was after my hair for evidence. But the crucial point was, I was wearing a wig to impersonate my sister! How could a paternity test done with a wig show a blood relation? Did they think I was an idiot? I looked at the supposed ironclad evidence in his hand, a cold sneer twisting my lips, my eyes filled with scorn. “Paternity test? I have a blood relation with this child?” “Let me tell you, your so-called paternity test is completely fake!” The man’s face changed. “Fake? How can you say it’s fake? It has the hospital’s official stamp! You just don’t want to acknowledge this child!” I met his gaze head-on, unyielding, and challenged him. “You’re trying to frame me with some hair from who-knows-where and a flimsy piece of paper?” “If you truly believe this child is mine, then come with me to a reputable hospital right now and get another paternity test. Do you dare?” The man’s eyes flickered, clearly losing some of his confidence, but he still stubbornly retorted, “Your family, the Amicks, are powerful and wealthy. Who knows if you’ve bribed the hospital? Getting a fake test report is just a word for you!” Then, he changed tack, attempting to play on the emotions of the onlookers, his voice choked with feigned emotion. “I know, when you dated me, you just wanted to have some fun. You always looked down on me, thinking I was just a poor kid, not worthy of you, the Amick heiress.” “But you shouldn’t have secretly given birth to a child and then abandoned him in a rented apartment! This is our flesh and blood, after all!” “I didn’t ask for any title, I just want a good life for the child. These conditions I’m asking for, aren’t they just a flick of your wrist? Why are you so cruel to your own child!” This tearful accusation indeed made some uninformed students begin to whisper, their gazes at me now laced with suspicion. However, I wasn’t falling for any of it. I hadn’t done it, and I wouldn’t let my sister carry this burden. “What’s the point of all this nonsense?” “I will never admit to something I haven’t done. If you’re afraid of me tampering with things, then let’s just call the police. Let them designate an institution for the paternity test, with continuous video surveillance. Surely, that’s acceptable?” “Th-this…” The man was immediately speechless, his face flushing crimson, stammering, unable to form words. Just then, the baby in my arms started crying louder, its little face turning red from straining. Tinsley, watching from the side, suddenly rushed forward, snatched the baby, hugging it tightly, and shrieked at me. “Enough, Seraphina Amick, stop making excuses!” “Do you think we can’t see through you? You just want to kill this child!” 2 Tinsley pointed at me, her voice sharp and piercing. “Seraphina Amick, you’re still putting on an act! You were pregnant and still going out drinking and clubbing every day; I told you so many times, but you wouldn’t listen.” “Now look, the child is born prematurely, sickly, and weak, but you don’t care at all. You’re denying everything, trying to drag him all over the place.” “Isn’t it because you see the child is in poor health and you want to literally drag him to his death, just to completely get rid of this burden? How can your heart be so cruel!” The man, seeing Tinsley step up as a witness, instantly found his backbone, straightening his posture, and immediately chimed in. “Tinsley’s right, Seraphina Amick, if you have nothing to hide, do you dare tell everyone why you suddenly took a month off from school? Wasn’t it to secretly give birth to my child?” “After you returned to school, you immediately applied to live off-campus, wasn’t it because you were recovering from childbirth?” Perhaps genuinely believing I had been up to something unsavory during that period, something I couldn’t disclose, the man became more self-assured, his expression triumphant. “When you were recovering, wasn’t I bringing you chicken soup every day and looking after you? But what did you do? As soon as you felt a little better, you turned on me, kicking us, father and son, out of the house! You venomous woman!” His elaborate accusations, coupled with Tinsley’s backing, instantly made the situation even more chaotic. Hearing them, my other two roommates also looked enlightened. “Yeah, Seraphina, why did you suddenly take a month off before? When we asked, you just said you weren’t feeling well. What kind of illness requires such a long hospital stay?” “And as soon as you came back, you were eager to move out of the dorm, saying you couldn’t get used to sleeping there. But we’ve all lived together for over a year, why suddenly so uncomfortable? Is it… really something you don’t want us to know?” another roommate hesitantly added. “You rarely wore makeup before, but after your leave of absence, you’ve been wearing it almost every day. Is it to cover up your complexion?” Hearing these doubts, prompted and amplified by my roommates, the man felt even more confident, as if victory was already in his grasp. And I, listening to their deductions, was almost laughing from sheer frustration! Seraphina Amick’s month off was because her condition had suddenly worsened, requiring heart surgery. But she didn’t want to make a fuss, only hoping that I, her twin brother, could complete her studies for her. And the reason I immediately moved out of the dorm and became a day student after returning to school was because I was a man, for crying out loud! No matter how much I wanted to help my sister, there was no way I could actually live with a bunch of girls! Could I state that reason openly? As for wearing makeup every day, it was simply because there were still differences in our facial features that needed to be concealed. But all these coincidences, by some bizarre twist of fate, had now become evidence that I had taken time off to have a baby. I looked at the farce unfolding before me and the suspicious glances of my classmates, a wave of absurdity washing over me. What in the world was going on! I rubbed my temples, interrupting them. “I took time off to have a baby, and lived off-campus to recover from childbirth? Are all those people who take time off from school just going off to have babies?” “Tinsley, didn’t you also take time off for a while? And now you’re so concerned about this child, I might as well think you’re the biological mother!” “You want to accuse me with such flimsy evidence? If you can’t explain yourselves, then let’s call the police. Let them see if I’m truly innocent!” Tinsley’s face turned ashen at my words, and she shrieked, stopping me from reaching for my phone. “I was trying to be kind, Seraphina Amick, do you really think there’s no other evidence?” 3 Tinsley said, giving the man a meaningful look. The man instantly understood, a cruel smile spreading across his face as he pulled a stack of photos from his pocket and slapped them onto the lecture desk with a loud thwack. “Seraphina Amick, Tinsley, in her kindness, advised me to save you some face and not bring out these photos. But you’ve pushed it too far, you don’t appreciate consideration!” “Today, I will let everyone see your true face, let everyone know what a promiscuous woman you, the Amick family heiress, are in private!” The photos scattered across the desk were utterly indecent, all intimate pictures of me and this man in various settings, with some even being extremely explicit bedroom photos! The entire class instantly erupted into chaos. Many students’ eyes now held undisguised contempt for me. Even a few boys in the back row let out malicious snickers, openly commenting on my body in the photos. “Didn’t realize the Amick heiress had such a good figure.” “If I’d known it was this easy, I would’ve tried my luck too. Maybe if I satisfied her, I could’ve become a son-in-law of the Amicks.” I stared fixedly at those photos, my anger surging, almost breaking through my composure. They were using such vile tactics to tarnish my sister’s reputation. But at the same time, a wave of relief washed over me. Thankfully, it was me standing here enduring all this, not the real Seraphina Amick. Otherwise, just seeing these fabricated, obscene photos would likely have been enough to trigger a heart attack! I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice calm. “With today’s advanced photo editing, anyone can just find a few pictures, composite them, and pretend they’re evidence of me dating you. You don’t seriously think such a trick can fool everyone, do you?” The man let out a lewd laugh, as if he’d heard the funniest joke, his eyes maliciously tracing over my body. “You can say the photos are doctored, but you can’t fake the birthmark on your lower back, can you? And there’s a small mole hidden behind your ear. If I hadn’t slept with you, how would I know your body so intimately?” Hearing his words, I actually felt a wave of relief. The birthmark and mole he mentioned did exist, but they were features I, Sterling Amick, possessed. Seraphina Amick had none of those! It seemed this clumsy plot was cooked up after I started impersonating my sister at school. A cold laugh formed in my mind. Someone who knew my body so intimately could only be someone I shared a dorm with, someone who had the opportunity for close observation. My gaze swept across my three roommates. Only Tinsley’s lips held an ill-concealed, triumphant smile. It seemed she and this man had conspired together. With that thought, I looked at them, a smile that wasn’t a smile on my face, and asked directly, “After all this circling, what do you want?” The man was about to speak, but Tinsley interjected, putting on an act of concern for me. “Seraphina, it’s good you can admit it. Who doesn’t make mistakes when they’re young?” “But I see you really don’t want to acknowledge this child. Why don’t you let his father take him back? You just need to pay for the child’s living expenses for these eighteen years upfront, a total of one million dollars. Think of it as buying peace of mind, and fulfilling your bond with your child. How does that sound?” One million dollars? I almost applauded her. What a brazen demand. A thought flashed through my mind, and a smile spread across my face as I readily nodded. “Alright, I’ll pay.” 4 Seeing the money transferred, the man and Tinsley’s eyes immediately lit up with uncontrollable delight. Their goal achieved, they had no desire to talk to me further, and the two of them, holding the baby, made to leave. But I stepped forward, blocking the classroom door. “What, you’ve got the money and now you want to leave? Not going to let me spend a little more time with the child? He is my flesh and blood, after all.” As I spoke, I made a move to touch the baby in Tinsley’s arms. Tinsley’s face instantly changed, like a hen protecting its chick. She fiercely shielded the baby, avoiding my hand, her eyes wary. “What do you want? The child support has been paid, he has nothing to do with you anymore! Don’t you dare touch him!” Just as we were pulling and pushing, the classroom door was abruptly thrown open. The academic advisor stood in the doorway, his face filled with anger. “What’s going on here! How long has class been? The teacher has been waiting for you all for half the period, and not a single one of you is in there! What are you all blocking the doorway for?” Seeing the advisor, several students who loved drama immediately swarmed him, loudly tattling. “It’s Seraphina Amick, she took a month off from school to secretly have a baby, and now the child’s father has come to claim child support!” “Sir, Seraphina Amick’s private life is so messy, with such character, how can she be eligible for awards and honors, or to be a student leader? I suggest revoking her qualifications and giving her a disciplinary warning!” “Exactly! Must be disciplined! It’s bringing shame to our school!” Everyone was indignant, as if I had committed some heinous crime. However, listening to their words, the advisor’s face grew increasingly grim. Instead of lecturing me as the students expected, he abruptly pushed away the students crowding him and sternly barked, “What nonsense are you all spewing? What ‘having a baby’? What do you know to be making such a fuss?” The advisor strode over to the man and questioned him. “Who are you, and how did you get into our school?” “Harassing and slandering our student here, and extorting money—do you know that’s illegal behavior?!” Seeing the advisor so protective of me, Tinsley immediately panicked, her face etched with unwillingness. “Advisor, she herself admitted it, you can’t just favor her because the Amick family is rich and powerful!” The advisor immediately glared at her, his tone severe. “Tinsley Evans! This has nothing to do with you! Did you personally witness Seraphina having a child?!” Tinsley choked for a moment, but then defiantly stuck out her neck and shouted, “Of course I can testify! She used to stay out all night, and I even saw her and Vance getting cozy!” The advisor seemed to understand something, ignoring Tinsley, and stared directly at Vance Miller. “Mr. Miller, isn’t it? Now, immediately clarify the facts and apologize to Ms. Amick, otherwise, I will call the police!” Vance was so startled by the advisor’s threat that cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He instinctively looked at Tinsley. Tinsley, seeing his hesitation, yelled at the advisor without thinking. “Why are you so biased towards her, just because her family is rich? I won’t let the truth be covered up by power! She is…” “Enough! Truth, my foot!” The advisor finally lost his temper, cutting Tinsley off with a furious roar. “Are you all brain-dead? Do you believe whatever he says?” “The Seraphina Amick standing in front of you is a man! Tell me, how can he, a man, give birth to a child?!”

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1 “So white, the clothes. So much whiter, the person.” “Next time, don’t even bother with underwear. Makes things easier for laundry.” I stared at my wife’s WhatsApp, unable to process the words. The contact name seared my eyes: “Julian Hillner.” Her ex-husband. I slammed my phone down. My wife, Kathy, flinched, startled. “Darling, let me explain, his hand is hurt, and there’s no one to look after him…” I pointed a finger at her. “His hand is hurt?” “For three years of our marriage, you wouldn’t even press a button on the washing machine, claiming it would chip your manicure.” “And now you’re at your ex’s place, hand-washing clothes? For a whole night?” “Darling, why are you so mad?” She bent to pick up her bag, her eyes darting to the coffee table. I took two swift steps, planting my foot firmly on the bag. “Don’t touch it.” “Darling…” “What happened to Julian’s hand?” Kathy’s face went instantly pale. She instinctively clutched her throat, her gaze flickering nervously. “He… he fractured his hand.” “A comminuted fracture, no one to care for him, couldn’t even pull up his pants.” “I just felt sorry for him, so I went to help out.” “Help out?” My lips twisted into a sneer. I bent down and picked up the bag. A Gucci overnight bag, bulging. “Need this thing to ‘help out’?” “Give it to me!” Kathy shrieked, lunging to grab it. I sidestepped her, gripped the zipper, and yanked it open. Whoosh. A pile of items tumbled onto the coffee table. A black lace lingerie set. Half a bottle of lube. And a pair of freshly discarded nude stockings. The air solidified instantly. I recognized that lingerie set. For our anniversary, I’d begged her for half a month, just to see her wear it once. She’d claimed the fabric was scratchy, that she was allergic, refused to wear it for anything. Now, that “scratchy” lingerie lay before me. It reeked of cheap cologne mixed with disinfectant. Pungent. Disgusting. I snatched the lace and flung it at her face. “This is your ‘help’?” “Going to your ex’s place to wash clothes, and bringing your own lube?” “Were you washing clothes, or acting as an automated ‘wash-and-wear’ service?” Kathy tore off the lingerie, tears instantly gushing. “Leo! Don’t talk like that!” “He’s sick! He can’t move!” “I wore this because… because…” “Because what?” I took a step closer, staring at her neck. A patch of concealer had rubbed off. Revealing a dark red mark. A hickey. “Because this thing cures broken bones?” I reached out to wipe at the concealer. Kathy slapped my hand away, then collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. “You’re just petty! You have no sympathy!” “We’re divorced, what else could there be?” “If I wanted something with him, why would I have married you in the first place?” “He’s lying there, can’t move, and you’re still slandering me!” Can’t move? I sneered, casting my phone screen to the 65-inch TV. A screenshot of game stats appeared. ID: “The Swift Serpent.” That was Julian’s gaming account. I’d been sleepless last night, using a secondary account to monitor his profile. The stats showed: 2 AM last night, ranked match MVP. Hero used: “The Blademaster.” Fastest hands on the field, most dazzling plays. “This is your ‘comminuted fracture’?” I pointed at the “Penta Kill” icon on the screen. “At 2 AM, he was slaughtering the competition.” “And you were ‘washing clothes’ in his bed.” “Kathy, do you think I’m blind, or just plain stupid?” Kathy looked up at the screen, her lips trembling. “Th-this… this was a booster playing for him!” “Yes! A booster!” “Leo, why do you have to be so dark?” “I’ve been frugal for this family, and you’re here investigating my ex?” Frugal? I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. 2 I tapped open her shopping history on the Aethelred Market app. Australian Wagyu A9, two hundred dollars a pound. Deep-sea wild sea cucumber, five hundred dollars a box. Boston lobster, extra-large. The delivery address was always the same: Apartment 402, Building 3, Serenity Lane. That was Julian’s rented place. And what had I eaten last night? Instant noodles, without even an egg. In three years of marriage, she had never once cooked. Claiming cooking fumes ruined her skin, and dish soap hurt her hands. I washed all the dishes, mopped all the floors. All to protect those manicures of hers, which cost eighty dollars a pop. I grabbed her hand. The long, rhinestone-studded nails were now clipped short and bare. There was still unwashed grease on her fingertips. “You clipped your nails to cook for him?” “You don’t mind roughing up your hands to wash his underwear?” “Kathy, you truly are a wonderful wife.” I flung her hand away. Kathy stumbled, hitting the sofa leg. She dropped the act entirely, scrambling up from the floor, yelling defiantly. “Yes! I did go to take care of him! So what?” “A bond forged in marriage lasts a lifetime!” “He’s in trouble, how could I just stand by and watch him suffer?” “You make tens of thousands a month, what’s wrong with sharing a bit to help him out?” “Leo, you need to be more generous!” “What kind of man nitpicks over such trivial things?” Generous. Help him out. I looked at the woman before me. For three years, I’d thought she was delicate, a little princess who needed pampering. Turns out, she wasn’t incapable of doing things. She just reserved her efforts for other men. My stomach churned, a wave of pure, visceral disgust. “Get out.” I pointed at the door. “Take your lube, and get out.” Kathy froze. Before, if she cried, I’d immediately comfort her. Even when she gave my limited-edition collectibles to a relative’s child, I never spoke harshly. But today, the icy chill in my eyes frightened her. “Leo, you dare kick me out?” “Don’t you dare regret this!” “I’m leaving right now! I’m going to Elara’s place!” She grabbed her bag from the floor, shoving the lingerie in haphazardly. Then slammed the door behind her. Elara’s place? I walked to the balcony, watching her red BMW X3 drive out of the complex. The direction was clearly not towards her friend’s house. It was heading straight for Serenity Lane. Julian’s place. I pulled out a cigarette and lit it. My hand was shaking. Not from sadness, but from fury. And the humiliation of being played for a fool for three years. I turned and walked into the bedroom. Locked the door. That night, I didn’t sleep. I was checking her finances. And what I found chilled me to the bone. The next morning. The living room was eerily silent. I stared at the bank statements on my phone, my eyes bloodshot. Kathy hadn’t come home last night. I hadn’t called her either. This card was the household card I’d given her, linked to my secondary account. Every month, I transferred two thousand dollars for living expenses. For three years, I had never checked the statements. Because of trust. Now, that trust had become a slap to the face. On the first of every month. There was a fixed transfer of five hundred dollars. The recipient’s note was “Belle Beauty Salon.” But I checked the verified name on the payment app. The account belonged to “Juli*.” Julian. Three years, thirty-six months. This single, fixed expense alone amounted to eighteen thousand dollars. And that was just the small stuff. Various fragmented transfers, payments, gift money. There were even several large cash withdrawals. In total, she had transferred at least forty thousand dollars over these three years. Forty thousand. I had hesitated for half a year before buying a new car. She transferred money to her ex without a second thought. 3 I stood up and walked to the walk-in closet. It was Kathy’s sanctuary, usually off-limits to me. A whole wall of glass display cabinets. Filled with various designer bags. Hermès, Chanel, Louis Vuitton. All gifts I’d bought her over the past three years for holidays and anniversaries. Each one was worth a fortune. I opened the cabinet door and picked up the Hermès Picnic Bag in the center. Elephant grey, gold hardware. I’d given it to her for our anniversary last year, costing me well over five thousand dollars. The feel was off. Too stiff. The pebbled leather texture felt fake. I turned on my phone’s flashlight, set it to macro mode. Took a picture of the embossed logo on the bag. Then searched online for genuine comparison images. No need for expert appraisal. Blatantly fake. The edges of the “H” in the font were all fuzzy. I picked up the Chanel CF next to it. The chain was light, almost faded. Fake. All fake. The three Hermès, two Chanel bags displayed in the cabinet. All high-quality replicas. Where were the real bags? I downloaded a pre-owned luxury goods trading app. Entered Kathy’s phone number to search for users. Sure enough. Account ID: “KathyLovesLife.” The homepage was filled with “sold” listings. “99% new Hermès Picnic Bag, urgent sale, with receipt.” “Chanel CF Medium, only carried once, bargain price.” All transactions took place within a month of me giving her the gifts. The total transaction amount? Another thirty thousand dollars. She sold the real bags, bought fakes to display at home to fool me. Where did the money go? Where did the money go? I clicked on a screenshot of the account’s withdrawal records (she’d posted it in the comments). The last four digits of the recipient card were 8888. That wasn’t Kathy’s card. I entered the card number into my online banking transfer interface. The system automatically displayed the recipient’s name: “Juli*.” Julian again. I threw my phone onto the bed, covering my face with both hands. A guttural roar escaped my throat. The person was his. The money was his too. What was I? A money-making machine? Or a chump helping someone else raise his wife? Just then, my phone vibrated. It was a push notification from the Highway Pass app. “Your vehicle, State Plate A*****, passed through the airport highway toll station at 08:30 AM.” That was the BMW X3 Kathy was driving. Airport highway? What was she doing at the airport? Was she trying to run away? I immediately opened the vehicle tracking app. The car wasn’t at the airport. It had stopped at a high-end private orthopedic hospital near the airport. It was the most expensive rehabilitation hospital in the city. A single night’s stay started at three hundred dollars. I remembered what Kathy had said last night. “His hand is hurt, and there’s no one to look after him.” Turns out, “no one to look after him” meant staying in a VIP suite, eating Australian Wagyu, and enjoying “special care” from his ex-wife. And all of this cost. Was coming out of my pocket. I grabbed my car keys and rushed out of the house. In the garage, there was still a six-year-old Sedan. That was my car. The BMW was hers to drive, because she said driving an old car to gatherings was embarrassing. I started the car, pedal to the metal. Just then. My phone vibrated. A credit card transaction alert. [“Your credit card ending in 8888 has been charged $5,200 at Aesthetic Beauty Clinic.”] Immediately after. Julian sent me a photo. In the photo, he lay on a wide hospital bed. His left hand was in a cast, his right hand holding up his phone for a selfie. In the background, Kathy was bending over, feeding him grapes. Her neckline was low, revealing a flash of white skin. That was my wife. The caption was just one sentence: “Nothing beats the original; some people are only good for paying.” I stared at that photo. Blood rushed backward, surging to my scalp. Fifty-two hundred. 4 Aesthetic clinic. Was she using my money to get her ex plastic surgery? Or some other unspeakable procedure? My in-laws were still chattering away. “Leo, don’t be too bothered.” “You’re a man, be more magnanimous.” “Kathy and Julian are ancient history, isn’t she doing just fine with you now?” I looked at their opening and closing mouths. Like two blood-sucking black holes. I didn’t erupt. Nor did I flip the table. I calmly pressed the screenshot button. Saved the message, saved the photo. Then slowly gathered the bank statements from the coffee table, folded them neatly, and put them in my pocket. Since you’re treating me like “family,” Then this “grand gift.” I’ll repay it with interest. I left my in-laws’ house and sat in my car, smoking three cigarettes. My phone vibrated again. It was a WhatsApp message from Kathy. “Darling, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lost my temper with you.” “I reflected on it all night at Elara’s place.” “That money… I lent it to a friend in urgent need, they’ll pay it back in a few days.” “Please don’t be mad, okay?” Fifty-two hundred. Friend in urgent need. She couldn’t even bother to come up with a better lie. I looked at the screen, a cold smile twisting my lips. My fingers tapped on the keyboard. “It’s fine, darling. Tell me if you need more money.” “Don’t make yourself suffer.” “I’m away on a business trip, I’ll be back in a couple of days.” After sending that message. I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat. If we’re going to act, let’s go all in. I want them to know what it’s like to invite trouble and then try to get rid of it. That afternoon. I told Kathy to stay at her parents’ or Elara’s place for a few days, not to come home yet. Kathy was more than happy to. She was currently busy acting as a full-time caregiver at the hospital, with no time to come home anyway. Seizing the opportunity. I bought a bunch of miniature pinhole cameras. Replaced the old ones with new ones that had remote cloud storage. After doing all that. I moved all my valuables—my watch, emergency cash, the house deed—to my parents’ place. Then, I set a daily limit on Kathy’s secondary card. A hundred dollars a day. Couldn’t block the card entirely, that would alert them. It had to be like boiling a frog slowly, gradually bringing the water to a boil. I opened the phone monitoring app. On the screen, the front door of our home opened. Kathy entered, helping Julian. Julian’s arm still had a cast, but his movements weren’t slow at all. He even managed to free one hand to squeeze Kathy’s butt. “So this is the house that idiot bought?” Julian looked around the living room, a look of disdain on his face. “The decor is so tacky, reeks of new money.” Kathy smiled as she helped him change shoes. She was using my slippers. “Just bear with it, he’s on a business trip anyway, so it’s ours for now.” “You can recover here for a few days, I’ll make you delicious food.” “Once you pay off those tens of thousands in gambling debts, I’ll divorce him.” “And I’ll get half of this house too.” The voice recorder faithfully captured every word. Every word was like a nail, driven into my eardrums. Julian wrapped an arm around Kathy’s waist. Pushing her onto the sofa… I turned off the screen. No need to watch anymore. The evidence was already enough to ruin their reputations. I picked up the hotel phone and dialed the bank’s customer service. “Hello, I’d like to report all my credit cards lost.” “Yes, all of them.” “Reason? They’ve been fraudulently used.” On the monitor. Julian, who was about to order takeout, suddenly cursed. “Damn it, why can’t I pay?” Kathy picked up her phone and looked. “Maybe there’s a limit, I’ll try another card.” She tried another card. “That one doesn’t work either… what’s going on?” … The show, had only just begun. I looked out at the night sky. My gaze colder than the night itself. Julian, Kathy. Since you love money so much. Then I’ll let you taste what it’s like to have none. And what it’s like to be driven mad by debt.

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1 The Cook Corporation’s illegal demolition killed my parents and turned me into a beggar on the streets. When the thugs they hired had me cornered, Jax stood in front of me. He was like a stray dog, eyes burning red with fury. “Anyone touches Ava,” he snarled, “I’ll make them regret it for the rest of their lives.” We fell in love when we had nothing. Until the day the Cook heiress sent her men for us. Jax was beaten until his head was slick with blood, but he still shielded me. He shoved me away and let them take him. Lost in the downpour, I stumbled through the alleyways and saw her car. The interior light was on, and through the rain-streaked window, I saw Jax press Seraphina Cook against the seat, his mouth crashing down on hers in a brutal, hungry kiss. In that instant, the world blurred into a wash of gray rain, and the only sound was the frantic drumming of my own heart. … “Is fucking a high-society girl that much better, Jax?” Seraphina’s breathless words, broken and panting, reached my ears. Jax was completely lost in her, his teeth gently grazing her earlobe, his eyes glazed with lust. When he didn’t answer, she grabbed his tie, flipping him onto his back and straddling him. He reached to peel off her black dress, but she stopped his hand. She looked down at him, her voice laced with a petulant complaint. “I’ve asked you so many times, Jax. When are you going to agree to be my personal bodyguard? Sneaking into the Warrens to see you was fun at first, but I’m getting tired of this whole underground affair. Besides…” She paused. “Besides, I’m sick of seeing your little beggar girlfriend.” Jax was silent for a moment, then he answered her with a kiss that was even more ferocious than the last, stripping away her clothes in the dark confines of the car. My tears mingled with the rain, my whole body shaking. I couldn’t watch anymore. I turned and ran, stumbling on the potholed ground, my knees screaming in protest each time I fell. But I scrambled back up and kept running, desperate to get away. All I wanted was to go home. My home was nothing more than a makeshift lean-to of scrap wood and tarps, but it was once a warm and happy place. It had my parents, hot meals, and a soft bed. Until the Cook Corporation tore it all down. My parents died trying to protect it, crushed under the rubble of our house. Their deaths sparked an outrage. The displaced residents protested, and the demolition was temporarily halted. We swore we would protect our land, that we wouldn’t let Cook win. But one by one, people took the money. Or they couldn’t stand the constant harassment from the company’s thugs. They left. The Warrens grew emptier, but I stayed. I was waiting to get justice for my parents. And Jax stayed with me. His parents were gambling addicts. He’d run away from home and lived on the streets. I had shared my food with him. When the thugs had me cornered, he had appeared out of nowhere to protect me. As I cleaned his wounds later, dabbing iodine on the raw gashes, I started to cry, from fear or from a pain in my own chest, I didn’t know which. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this…” Jax pulled me into a fierce embrace. “Ava, I’m staying with you. I’m going to protect you for the rest of your life.” And for five years, he did. 2 Jax came back late that night. A fresh bandage was taped to his forehead. He saw the scrapes on my knees and knelt to apply ointment. I took a step back. “Where were you?” A flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes. “They took me to see Ms. Cook,” he said carefully. “She wasn’t too hard on me. Ava… maybe she’s not as bad as you think.” I looked up at him, my heart clenching with disbelief. “Jax, you know how much I hate the Cooks.” It was a blood debt. He knew everything. And he was dismissing it with a casual, “not as bad as you think.” He reached for me. “I’m sorry, Ava. But that was our parents’ fight. Seraphina doesn’t approve of what her family did.” I pushed him away, a cold laugh escaping my lips. “You two seem to know each other pretty well.” He flinched, his eyes darting away. He didn’t answer. Instead, he started talking, as if trying to convince both me and himself. “Ava, you should talk to her. I’m sure she’d be willing to give you some compensation. I want a better life for you, for us. We can’t keep living hand-to-mouth, selling scrap metal. Do you really want to be stuck in this hellhole for the rest of your life?” I slapped him. The sound echoed in our small shelter. He turned his head slightly, his eyes downcast. I looked at him, my voice low and sharp. “This isn’t some hellhole. It’s my home. The Cook Corporation destroyed my house and killed my parents for twenty thousand dollars. I’m not leaving until I get my revenge.” Seeing the tears welling in my eyes, Jax panicked. “I’m sorry, Ava. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” Then, another lie slipped from his lips. “I found a job. A bodyguard. It’s steady work.” I gave him a faint, bitter smile. I knew it was just Seraphina’s excuse to have him at her beck and call. “Ava,” he murmured, “I’m going to make you happy.” … Jax started coming home later and later, until he wasn’t coming home at all. “The rich have a lot of parties,” he’d explain, his voice strained. “They’re always short-staffed. You have to understand, Ava.” I knew he was sleeping with her. “Your employer seems to need a lot of… company,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. At the mention of her, a light I couldn’t ignore flickered in his eyes. A small smile played on his lips. “Ava, she’s… incredible. The strongest person I’ve ever met. Besides you.” The comparison made me sick to my stomach. I didn’t confront him. I still needed his protection. Without Jax, I wouldn’t survive long enough to see justice done. But I stopped letting him touch me. And Jax, lost in his new world with Seraphina, never even noticed. 3 A few weeks later, I was alone in the alley when a group of thugs blocked my path. “Well, well, if it isn’t Ava. Where’s your little boyfriend?” I recognized them. They were the same goons the Cook Corporation had been using for years to harass the remaining residents. I backed away. “Jax is nearby. Don’t try anything.” They looked at each other and burst out laughing. They cornered me, their shadows looming. One of them grabbed my hair, his greasy fingers scraping against my cheek. “Jax? He’s too busy being the Cook heiress’s lapdog to care about a homeless mutt like you.” I sank my teeth into his wrist, hard. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. “Fucking bitch!” A fist slammed into my face, sending me sprawling into the mud. The real beating began then. They used a filthy piece of wood, a makeshift club, crashing it against my ribs again and again. My strength gave out. I lay in the grime, gasping for air. The final blow landed on my forehead. The world dissolved into a high-pitched ringing as warm blood streamed down, blinding me. When they tore at my clothes, I no longer had the energy to fight back. They took out their phones, taking turns filming me. I just stared up at the sky, a gray canvas sliced into thin strips by a web of power lines. It was the same color it had been the day they pulled my parents’ bodies from the rubble. When they were done, they spat on the ground and left, cursing. I used the grimy wall to pull myself up, bit by bit. I wasn’t sure a single bone in my body was unbroken. Every step was agony. But I couldn’t die. If I died, who would get justice for my parents? I dragged myself around the last corner, a pile of rotting garbage marking the end of the alley. I stopped, hiding myself in the shadows. A black Lincoln, sleek and utterly out of place, was parked at the mouth of the alley. And standing beside it, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, was Jax. He looked so different I barely recognized him. Seraphina was leaning against his shoulder, her fingers tracing his jawline. “You know, Jax,” she purred, “I’m just discovering you have a rather cruel streak.” He lit a cigarette, his voice nonchalant. “Ava can be stubborn. I’ve protected her for years, but she has no idea how hard life can be. A little scare while I’m gone… maybe it’s what she needs to finally agree to leave.” Huddled behind the dumpster, I heard his words, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. The man I had trusted most had just thrown me to the wolves. I bit my lip so hard I didn’t feel the pain, my nails digging into my palms. A sharp, twisting pain erupted in my abdomen, like a dull knife being turned. My vision swam, and I slid down the wall as the world spun around me. The last thing I heard before the darkness took me was Jax’s voice, laced with something that sounded like a smile. “Once she understands…” 4 I woke up in a hospital. The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear hushed, frantic voices outside. It was Jax, his voice cracking with a despair he couldn’t contain. “Seraphina! I just told them to scare her! What the hell did you order them to do?!” Her reply was a light, careless laugh that drifted through the crack in the door. “Oh, Jax. Your little girlfriend doesn’t scare easily. Since you agreed to let me send my men to ‘persuade’ her, I thought we might as well be thorough. Better to rip the band-aid off, don’t you think?” Jax’s voice was shaking. “Do you have any idea she was pregnant?! The baby… we lost the baby…” A brief silence. Then, Seraphina’s laughter, even brighter this time. “Oh? Is that so? Well, then I guess I did you both a favor. Did you really think that child would have had a happy life, Jax? Raised by a couple of beggars squatting in a garbage heap?” The sharp crack of a slap echoed in the hallway. A moment of stunned silence, then Seraphina’s voice, laced with venom. “You ever lay a hand on me again, Jax, and I swear to god… Your future, your ticket out of that shithole you came from, it’s all tied to me. Who do you think you are without me? Just another stray dog from the Warrens, fighting over scraps.” Lying in the hospital bed, I felt a wave of nausea. A child? I subconsciously touched my flat stomach. No wonder I had been so tired and sick lately. A dark, cruel thought surfaced. A part of me was relieved. I had nothing to give a child. The door opened. Seraphina walked in, followed by Jax, his eyes red and swollen. He couldn’t look at me. She bit her lip, forcing the words out. “My men got carried away. They didn’t know when to stop. On their behalf, I apologize.” She paused, pulling a checkbook from her expensive handbag and placing a blank check on my bedside table. “As for compensation, name your price. Take your time. After all, it was our company’s… mistake… that led to your parents’ deaths and left you like this.” Then she picked up her bag, lifted her chin, and walked out. We were alone. Jax looked at me, his lips moving, but no sound coming out. “Ava, I’m so sorry…” I just smiled. A slow, cold smile. I would make them pay. … Three days later, sirens blared across the Southside. Fire trucks and ambulances swarmed the streets. The Warrens were on fire. Jax’s calls came one after another. I finally answered. He sounded like a man on the edge of a cliff. “Ava, where are you?! Why aren’t you in your room?!” “You know where I am, Jax,” I said softly. “Don’t bother looking for me. I’m going to be with my parents soon. I won’t be the burden holding you back from your new life. Are you happy now? After all these years, we’re even.” Flames licked at the flimsy wooden walls of my shelter, crackling and popping. I didn’t move. I just held the cold picture frame in my arms a little tighter. In the photo, my parents and I were smiling. I could hear the media scrum outside, the police shouting. I thought I heard Jax scream my name. “Ava!” He was trying to break through the police line. I ignored it all and closed my eyes, pressing my cheek against the cool glass of the frame. The air warped with the heat. I could see my parents in the flames, beckoning to me. Just as the heat and smoke were about to pull me under, there was a tremendous crash. The burning wall exploded inward. Jax, wreathed in smoke, stumbled into the inferno. He reached for me. “Ava! Go! We have to go!” I didn’t move. I just looked at him, my expression calm. His eyes were wild, pleading. “Ava… I was wrong… I was so wrong… please, just come outside. We can talk outside…” The smoke was getting thicker, the flames crawling across the ceiling. “Outside?” My voice was a hoarse whisper. “Outside where, Jax? My home is here. The home we were supposed to have… you destroyed it.” He slapped himself, hard, twice across the face. “I’m an animal, Ava, I deserve to die… but don’t do this, don’t throw your life away… I’m begging you…” The heat was unbearable. I could hear the firehoses outside. “Is anyone still in there?! We need to get them out!” The shout seemed to snap Jax out of his panic. He lunged forward, trying to scoop me into his arms. At that exact moment, a burning beam from the ceiling came crashing down. And the world went black.

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My best friend’s son’s eyes are identical to my husband’s. I was holding little Alex, who is three, and watching him laugh. The curve of his smile, the shape of his eyes, even the way they crinkled— I froze. “Godmother, what’s wrong?” I heard my own voice tremble. “Nothing,” I said, putting the child down. I watched him run towards Sarah. Sarah. My best friend of twenty years. She picked up Alex and smiled at me. “Look how much he loves his godmother.” I smiled back. But my palms were drenched in sweat. 1. Sarah and I have been classmates since middle school. Twenty whole years, from the age of thirteen until now. She was my bridesmaid when I got married. When she suffered a postpartum hemorrhage, I was the first to rush to the hospital. Three years ago, she suddenly told me she was pregnant. “Whose?” She just smiled, saying nothing. “You’re not going to tell me?” “It doesn’t matter,” she said, touching her belly. “I can raise him myself.” At the time, I thought she was so cool. A single mother, an independent woman. I helped her find the best obstetrician. I accompanied her to every prenatal check-up. When she had morning sickness, I made her porridge. On the day she went into labor, I was with her in the delivery room. “I’ll definitely pay you back when I have money,” she said from her hospital bed, gripping my hand. “Don’t be silly,” I laughed. “What kind of relationship do we have?” She cried. “You’re the best friend I’ll ever have.” I cried too. I believed her. During her month of postpartum confinement, I was at her house almost every day. Cooking soup, cleaning the room, washing the baby’s diapers. My husband, Harold, said I was too devoted. “She has family, doesn’t she?” “Her parents aren’t local, and she’s all alone. If I don’t help her, who will?” Harold didn’t say anything more. On the day of Alex’s full-month celebration, I gave a set of gold locks and bracelets, worth over thirty thousand. Sarah held the baby, prompting him to call me. “Say ‘Godmother.’” Little Alex babbled, drool running down his chin. I took him, my heart melting completely. “Godmother will buy you delicious food, toys, and send you to school.” Sarah stood by, her eyes curved in a smile. “You’re better to him than his own mother.” At the time, I thought this was the most genuine friendship in the world. When Alex was one, Sarah moved. The new apartment complex was very close to my house, a ten-minute walk. “This way, it’s easier for you to see Alex,” she said. I didn’t think much of it. Sometimes, when Sarah worked late, she’d drop Alex off at my house. Harold initially found it annoying. “Again?” “Just a few hours, can you watch him for me?” Later, he stopped complaining. He even started asking, “Alex isn’t coming today?” I said, “Sarah isn’t working late today.” He “oh-ed” and looked down at his phone. Now that I think about it, was he chatting with her then? For Alex’s second birthday, I gave him a big red envelope. At two and a half, I enrolled him in an early childhood education class, eighteen thousand. Sarah said she felt bad, but I said it was fine. “It’s not easy raising a child alone; I’ll help you.” She looked at me, her eyes red. “I don’t know how to thank you.” “Don’t say such things.” I was sincere. I didn’t have children. Five years of marriage, and I still couldn’t conceive. Harold said not to rush, let nature take its course. My mother-in-law’s expression grew worse and worse, but she didn’t say anything to my face. Alex, in a way, filled that void for me. I loved him as if he were my own son. But I didn’t know he might actually be my husband’s “own son.” The change started when he turned three. One day, I went to Sarah’s house to pick up Alex. He was eating watermelon. Red juice ran down his chin. He looked up and smiled at me. I froze. That smile. Those crinkling eyes. That unconscious head tilt. Exactly like Harold. I told myself then: You’re overthinking it. All kids look somewhat alike. But from that day on, I couldn’t help but observe. Alex’s ears. Harold’s ears had that same shape, with a little point at the top. Alex’s fingers. Slender and long, just like Harold’s. Alex would purse his lips when he was angry. Harold did too. Once was a coincidence. Twice was a coincidence. What about three, four, five times? I started losing sleep. That night, I lay in bed, tossing and turning. Harold was already asleep. I looked at his profile, suddenly feeling like he was a stranger. I quietly picked up his phone. His phone was never password-protected; we had agreed on mutual trust. I opened WeChat and found Sarah’s chat. The most recent messages were from three days ago. “Alex has a cold, do you have time to come see him?” “Okay, tomorrow.” That was it. Ordinary. I scrolled back further. All everyday conversations. No flirtation, nothing suspicious. I breathed a sigh of relief. I must be overthinking. It had to be. The next day, Sarah called. “Lily, Alex misses you. Coming over for dinner today?” “Okay.” I hung up and saw Harold standing at the door. “Going to Sarah’s?” “Yes.” “I’ll come too,” he said. “I can bring Alex a toy.” He used to find it annoying, and now he’s volunteering? I looked at him, saying nothing. He smiled. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” I averted my gaze. Telling myself: Don’t be paranoid. During dinner, Alex sat next to Harold. Harold served him food, wiped his mouth. “Uncle Harold is so nice,” Alex said. Sarah laughed. “Harold cares more about Alex than you, his godmother.” Harold said, “Kids are always likable.” I ate silently, my head down. But my eyes were constantly watching. Watching Harold serve food. Watching Alex eat. Watching their profiles side by side. Similar. They were so similar. Sarah suddenly spoke, “Lily, what’s wrong? You don’t look so good.” “Nothing, just a little tired.” She looked at me with concern. “Maybe you should go home and rest?” “No, I’m fine.” I smiled. But inside, a storm was brewing. On the way home, I asked Harold, “How long have you known Sarah?” He paused. “Through you, about six years now.” “Do you two contact each other often?” “Not much, just when she asks me to help fix her computer or something.” “You’re really good to Alex.” He smiled. “That kid is charming.” I didn’t say anything else. After getting home, he went to shower. I sat on the sofa, staring at the wall, lost in thought. Fix computer. Did Sarah ever ask him to fix her computer? Why don’t I know about that? That night, I couldn’t sleep. At three in the morning, I got up and took Harold’s phone again. This time, I searched more thoroughly. No WeChat messages. No texts. Call history… I froze. The call history with Sarah. More than I expected. At least three or four times a week. Sometimes ten minutes, sometimes half an hour. But it didn’t show up on WeChat because they only sent voice messages, never typed. I put the phone back, lay back in bed, and stared at the ceiling until dawn. 2. I started paying attention to more details. That photo of Alex at 100 days old at Sarah’s house. I leaned in, looking at his eyebrows. Thick brows, connected in the middle. Harold had them too. And that dimple. On his left cheek, appearing only when he smiled. Harold had one too. I asked Sarah, “Whose dimple does Alex have?” She paused, then smiled. “I don’t know, maybe his dad’s.” “His dad has a dimple?” “I don’t remember,” she said. “It’s been too long since we broke up.” I stared at her face for a few seconds. Her smile froze for a moment. Then quickly returned to normal. “Oh, by the way, can you check Alex’s foot? Is it a bit flat-footed?” The topic was changed. But I remembered that frozen moment. After that, I started “accidentally” looking through Harold’s things. His computer. His drawers. His bank statements. Then I found a transfer. Five thousand every month, on a fixed date, transferred to an unfamiliar account. “What’s this?” I asked him. He glanced at it, his expression unchanged. “Helping a friend out. He said he’d pay me back in installments.” “Which friend?” “You don’t know him.” I didn’t ask any more questions. But I noted down the account. That night, I used my own channels to check. Account holder: Sarah. My hands were trembling. Five thousand every month. Transferred for three years. Three years, thirty-six months, one hundred and eighty thousand. I never knew. He was transferring money to her, behind my back. Why? Helping a friend out? Was she his friend? Or my friend? I took a deep breath. Told myself to calm down. I couldn’t be sure yet. Maybe it really was just a loan. Maybe Sarah was having difficulties and was too embarrassed to ask me. Maybe… But why hide it from me? The next day, I asked Sarah out for coffee. “Are you tight on money lately?” “I’m okay,” she smiled. “Why?” “If you need money, you can tell me.” “No, no,” she waved her hand. “I have enough.” “Really?” “Really.” She looked at me. “Lily, what’s wrong with you today?” “Nothing,” I smiled. “Just worried about you.” “Silly girl.” She squeezed my hand. “With you as my best friend, what do I have to fear?” Her hand was warm. Her eyes were sincere. I almost believed her. But one hundred and eighty thousand. She said she had enough. Then where did Harold’s money go? I started checking more things. Harold’s schedule. He said he had a business trip this weekend, and I said okay. But I didn’t tell him I had put a tracker on his car. That weekend, the tracker showed him in the city center. Not the city of his business trip. But a hotel. A five-star one, very close to Sarah’s house. I sat at home, watching the little dot on my phone. He stayed there for three hours. Then he came home. “How was the business trip?” I asked him. “It was alright, a bit tiring,” he yawned. “I’m going to shower first.” I watched his back. Business trip. A bit tiring. What made you so tired? That night, after he fell asleep, I took his phone again. This time, I found a hidden album. It required a password. I tried his birthday, incorrect. Our wedding anniversary, incorrect. His mother’s birthday, incorrect. Finally, I tried Alex’s birthday. It opened. Inside were just a few photos. Sarah’s. Selfies, candid shots. And one photo of the two of them together. The background was a hotel room. Sarah leaned on his shoulder, smiling sweetly. The date was in the bottom right corner. Two years ago. I put the phone back. Walked out onto the balcony. It was dark outside; I couldn’t see any stars. I stood there for a long time. I didn’t cry. I couldn’t cry. I just felt cold. Cold from the inside out. My best friend of twenty years. My husband of five years. The two people I trusted most. Had been betraying me all along. I remembered what Sarah had said. “You’re the best friend I’ll ever have.” I remembered what Harold had said. “We agreed to trust each other.” So laughable. 3. The next day, I didn’t say a word. I made breakfast as usual, and saw Harold off as usual. “What do you want for dinner tonight?” I asked him. “Whatever, you decide,” he kissed my forehead. “My hardworking wife.” I smiled. Watched him drive away. Then I closed the door, leaning against the wall. Every breath hurt. But I told myself: It’s not enough yet. Photos can be faked. I needed more definite proof. I made a decision. A DNA test. Sarah had called saying Alex had a cold, so I offered to visit. I brought toys, fruit, and a cotton swab. “Let me see Alex’s throat.” Sarah didn’t think much of it and brought the child over. I took the opportunity when she turned to get water to swab inside Alex’s mouth with the cotton swab. “What’s Godmother doing?” “Checking if you have any inflammation,” I said, smiling. “Nothing, you’re very healthy.” Alex grinned. I put the cotton swab in a bag and tucked it into my pocket. Harold’s sample was easier to get. His razor. His toothbrush. His hair on the pillow. I collected enough samples and sent them to a testing agency. “It should take about a week,” the staff said. “Okay, I’ll wait.” A week. Seven days. For these seven days, I had to pretend I knew nothing. These seven days passed slowly. Every day, I cooked, went to work, and talked to Harold as usual. He didn’t notice anything unusual. Because I was acting very well. Or rather, he simply didn’t care. That Thursday, he said he had another business trip this weekend. “Where are you going this time?” “Shanghai, to meet a client.” “How many days will you be gone?” “Two days, I think.” I nodded, saying nothing. But I knew he wouldn’t be going to Shanghai. He would be going to that hotel. Friday evening, Sarah called. “Lily, come over for dinner this weekend, I’m making dumplings.” “Okay.” “What about Harold? Tell him to come too.” “He’s on a business trip.” Silence on the other end of the phone for a second. “Oh, then just come by yourself.” I hung up. Business trip. They think I don’t know. They think I’m still that fool. Saturday, I didn’t go to Sarah’s house. I went to that hotel. I wanted to see it with my own eyes. I sat in the lobby for two hours, then I saw them walk in together. Harold had his arm around Sarah’s waist. Sarah leaned on his shoulder. Both were laughing and chatting. Like an ordinary couple. No, like an ordinary married couple. My phone captured the scene. Then I left. I didn’t rush up to them. I didn’t make a scene. Because it wasn’t time yet. Sunday evening, Harold returned from his “business trip.” “Are you tired?” I asked him. “Not really,” he put down his luggage. “The client was difficult; it took two days to finalize.” “That sounds tough.” “My wife is so thoughtful.” He smiled and kissed me. I smiled too. I let him kiss me. Then I said, “Promise me something.” “What?” “You and Sarah…” His body noticeably stiffened. “You and Sarah should limit your contact from now on,” I said. “I don’t really like you two being too close.” He breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. “You’re overthinking it. What could possibly be going on between us? She’s your best friend, and I’m just helping out.” “Really?” “Really.” He looked into my eyes. “Wife, have you been too tired lately? You’re being paranoid.” I looked into his eyes. Those eyes that once made me feel so secure. Now I just found them disgusting. “Maybe,” I said. “I’m just overthinking.” He hugged me. “Silly girl, how could I ever do anything to betray you?” I leaned on his shoulder. Closed my eyes. Okay. I’ll give you one more chance. If the DNA results are negative, I’ll pretend nothing happened. If they’re positive… 4. A week later, the results were out. I went to pick up the report alone. The staff handed me an envelope. “Read it yourself or shall I read it to you?” “I’ll read it myself.” I opened the envelope. My hand was trembling. My eyes found the line of text. “Probability of paternity: 99.9999%.” “Conclusion: Supports Harold as the biological father of Alex.” I stared at those words for a long time. Then I folded the report and put it in my bag. Walking out of the testing center, the sunlight was blinding. I stood by the roadside, and suddenly I laughed. 99.9999%. Biological father. I helped her during her confinement. I bought gold locks for the child. I spent twenty thousand to enroll the child in early education. I loved him as if he were my own son. It turns out, he really was my husband’s “own son.” I didn’t go home. I found a coffee shop and sat there all afternoon, sorting through everything. Alex is three. They’ve been together for at least three years. Maybe longer. Harold and I have been married for five years. Which means… from the very beginning of our marriage, he was betraying me? I remembered what he said when he proposed. “I will only love you in this life.” I remembered what Sarah said when she was my bridesmaid. “Lily, you must be happy.” Happy. She slept with my husband and wanted me to be happy. What a huge joke. When I got home that evening, Harold was already there. “Where were you? You didn’t answer your phone.” “Shopping with colleagues; my phone died.” “Oh.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought something happened.” Something happened? Something big happened. I looked at him and smiled. “Nothing, just shopped for too long.” “Are you hungry? I ordered takeout.” “Yes, I’m hungry.” I sat down to eat, chatted with him, and watched TV. As usual. Nothing changed. Only my heart had grown cold. Over the next few days, I continued to gather evidence. I found their chat history. Harold had replaced his phone once, but he had a habit of backing things up. I found all their chat records in his cloud drive. Starting from four years ago. “Miss you.” “Me too.” “When can we be openly together?” “When the time is right.” “Alex called me ‘Daddy’ today.” “Really? Send me the video.” I read them one by one. My hands were shaking. So they had planned it all along. Waiting for the “time to be right.” What time? For me to die? Or for them to save enough money to run away? There were also transfer records. Besides the five thousand a month, there were others. Money for the child’s formula, toys, early education fees. Some I paid, some he paid. The two of us, together, raising his illegitimate child. I remembered one time, Sarah said she was short on cash and wanted to borrow money from me. I transferred twenty thousand to her. She said she’d pay it back when she got paid. And she did. But that month, Harold also transferred twenty thousand to her. She used Harold’s money to pay off her debt to me. What a well-played game. I compiled all the evidence. The DNA report. Screenshots of chat records. Transfer records. Hotel photos. Hotel stay records—which I had someone pull. Three years, they booked rooms 87 times. 87 times. An average of two to three times a month. I calculated, it was probably when I was on business trips, when I was working overtime, when I thought he was also working overtime. I printed all these out, bound them. Two copies. One for Harold. One for Sarah.

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