Category: English

A single father had been raising his daughter alone for years, secretly solving his personal needs in such a way. ***** In the middle of the night, I got up to use the bathroom, only to find my father’s room still lit. Through the crack in the door, I saw my father, David Rhodes, setting up his phone by the bed, holding a tissue in his left hand while his right hand was under the blanket. The screen was playing porn. The headphones didn’t seem to work well, as faint, blush-inducing sounds leaked out. David’s breathing quickened, and he muttered curses under his breath until he finally collapsed onto the bed. I covered my mouth in shock, tiptoeing back to my room. It was hard to imagine that my usually dignified and gentle father would use such foul language while doing something like this. My face turned red involuntarily, the blush spreading all the way to my ears. I, Falon Rhodes, was nineteen that year. Though I had never had a boyfriend, I had always been curious about sex. But I never expected to stumble upon this scene. I grew up in a broken home. My parents split when I was three, and the judge gave David full custody. Since then, he had been both mother and father to me. I was incredibly grateful for all he had done, but I was also quite selfish. Growing up with just one parent probably left me starved for affection. I had always feared that another woman in our home would steal David’s love. That was why I had strongly resisted the idea of him remarrying. David worried that a stepmother might be mean to me and stayed single for over a decade. I used to think everyone had needs. I figured if David blew off some steam now and then, given his lack of a partner, it was no big deal. But reality was far from what I’d imagined. David was acting like a horny teenager. Almost every night since I’d been back, he’d been going at it. I watched his energy drain away day by day. His listlessness worried me sick about his health. But as his daughter, I had no idea how to broach the subject, let alone suggest he cool it. A knock at my door snapped me out of my thoughts. I opened it to find David standing there, impeccably dressed, and the picture of sophistication. He’d clearly made an effort with his appearance. A far cry from the hot mess I’d glimpsed that night, lost in the throes of passion. “Don’t forget we’re having dinner at Raegan’s tonight,” David reminded me, straightening his already perfect tie. I nodded obediently. Raegan was our next-door neighbor, another single dad with a daughter my age, Milley. We’d basically grown up together. Raegan took great care of himself. Pushing forty, he didn’t have a wrinkle in sight, giving him the appearance of a man in his late twenties. He always dressed impeccably, wearing gold-rimmed glasses that lent him an air of scholarly refinement. Being neighbors and both single-parent families, we’d grown close over the years, often looking out for each other. As I walked in, I saw Raegan, David, and Milley huddled on the couch, poring over photos from our recent trip together. Not wanting to miss out, I squeezed in to join them. As soon as I got close to Raegan, he lifted me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me. That day, I was wearing something loose, giving Raegan the perfect view. I, on the other hand, wrapped my arms around his neck like I did when I was a child, pressing my chest against him. I could clearly feel Raegan tense up, his breathing becoming a bit unsteady. I had always been this close with Raegan, so I didn’t find anything unusual about it. Meanwhile, David and Milley were the same, with David’s arm around Milley’s shoulders. When they talked, they were so close they could feel each other’s breath.

Late at night, those sultry, teasing sounds started up again, accompanied by David’s muffled groans. He probably thought I’d be fast asleep by now like I used to be before college. However, my sleep schedule had changed since I started school. Now, these noises were keeping me wide awake. I was worried about David’s health. Could he really handle this? I knew I couldn’t just sit back and let this continue. I had to put a stop to it somehow. Barging in would only make things awkward, so I came up with a plan to indirectly interrupt them. I pretended to head to the bathroom, deliberately making my footsteps heavier than usual. This way, he’d know I was awake. Hopefully, the fear of getting caught would make him behave. When I came back from the bathroom, I didn’t hear any strange noises, and I finally managed to sleep. But when I woke up in the middle of the night needing to use the bathroom, I found a pair of women’s underwear in the trash can. Judging by the style, they likely belonged to a woman around my age. There was a sticky, foul-smelling fluid on them, and from what I learned in biology class, I knew exactly what that meant. The underwear wasn’t new, and it definitely wasn’t mine. A bold thought popped into my head. “Has my father started stealing from others? If this continues, could he become a rapist? If he gets caught, it could mean at least ten years in prison.” I didn’t dare to think any further. To prevent things from spiraling out of control, I decided to talk to David after coming out of the restroom. “Dad…” I called out. He turned his back to me with a warm smile. “What’s wrong?” I suddenly felt a lump in my throat. The words were right there, but I couldn’t say them. I was scared that if I told him, exposing the truth would be a huge blow, ruining his image in my eyes and possibly pushing him to do something drastic. After thinking it over, I decided to keep it to myself for now. I quickly changed the subject. “No, I just wanted to say, I miss you.” David chuckled, “I miss you too.” Even though I’d chickened out of spilling my guts to David, the whole mess was eating away at me constantly, robbing me of peace. Desperate for answers, I turned to the internet, searching for ways to curb sexual urges. The suggestions were all over the place. Some recommended intense exercise as a distraction. Others suggested becoming a monk, embracing vegetarianism and Buddhist teachings. One even proposed castration as the ultimate solution. Obviously, these weren’t practical. There was no way David would take up my advice. I shut off my phone, massaging my temples in frustration. Then, a thought struck me. Milley also had a single dad. Maybe I could ask her to take on this? In Milley’s room, I held her hand nervously. “Milley, I need to tell you something,” I said, “but first, you have to promise to keep it secret. Don’t tell anyone, not even Raegan.” After all, this was about David’s privacy. I didn’t want it getting out. Milley pointed at herself and promised, “Please, it’s like you don’t even know me. My lips are sealed. Just tell me.” “I found out my dad was…masturbating.” I lowered my head and blushed in embarrassment. I thought Milley would be very surprised, but she was surprisingly calm. “So what? Studies show most grown men do it.” “What about your dad? Has he ever…?” I blinked curiously. Milley nodded calmly. “Yeah, but it’s kinda awkward. If you see it, just pretend you didn’t.” I shook my head. “No, my dad’s different from Raegan. He doesn’t do it once in a while, he does it every day, and…” Seeing me hesitate, Milley frowned. “And what? Spit it out already.” “And he seems to be stealing other people’s underwear to… to do this. If anyone finds out, how will we ever face anyone in this town?” I said, feeling helpless and desperate. Milley’s expression was a bit odd, a flicker of something in her eyes. “What am I supposed to do? I want to talk to Dad, try to get him to change, but I’m so afraid he’ll just fly off the handle,” I sighed. Milley pursed her lips, thinking and saying, “Actually, I do have an idea, but I don’t think you’ll like it.” My eyes lit up. “What is it? Tell me!” “Maybe your dad should remarry, find a stepmom. That way, he’ll… you know, have someone, and he won’t be doing this sort of thing all the time,” Milley suggested tentatively. I rejected it without a second thought. “No way. What if he stops caring about me after getting a new wife? And what if the stepmom is mean to me?” I would never let anyone come between me and David, let alone some woman taking him away. “Well, there’s another option,” Milley chirped, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I could become your stepmom.” I stared at her, dumbfounded. “Is this really the time for jokes? I’m about to lose it.” But Milley’s expression remained serious. “I’m not kidding. If I were your stepmom, considering how close we are, I’d never mistreat you. Plus, your dad and I could look after you together. Wouldn’t that be awesome?” I pondered her words. If Milley had been genuinely interested in becoming my stepmom, we probably wouldn’t have had any issues. But… My frown deepened. “You little rascal! I consider you my best friend, and now you want to be my mom? That’s a terrible deal for me.” Milley smirked. “If you think it’s a bad deal, you could always become my stepmom. My dad’s still single, isn’t he?”

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On the day of my wedding with Quinn Lee, her cherished friend, Edward Smith, abruptly collapsed, prompting her to abandon the ceremony and rush him to the hospital, leaving me behind. My mother, Lily Blake, was seated below when the shocking scene unfolded before her eyes. The sudden distress triggered a heart attack. Yet, amidst the chaos, the onlookers merely stood by and laughed as if it were all a grand jest. No one stepped forward to offer aid. By the time I sent her to the hospital, the critical moment for saving her had slipped away. It was then that I got a call from Quinn. “Shawn Blake, where are you? Edward is ill and in need of your bone marrow!” “Quinn, we’re through!” I declared, ending the call and leaving. This time, I wouldn’t look back. ***** Five years prior, I had been the savior of Edward after a successful bone marrow transplant. Quinn implored me to stay, insisting she wished to repay my kindness. For five years, I remained by her side, and today was to be our wedding day. Yet, at the pivotal moment, Edward feigned another collapse. I pleaded with Quinn not to leave, but she pried my fingers away. “Shawn, a life is at stake. How can you be so heartless?” She accused me of heartlessness, but she was oblivious to Edward’s subtle fluttering of eyelashes in the crowd, a telltale sign of his deceit. Lily’s heart gave out from the stress. As she lay there, I cried out for help, but none among the guests moved to assist. They all knew who was Quinn’s true love. With her departure, my insignificance was made clear, and no one offered me any aid. In the end, it was a server who dialed the emergency number for me, but it was already too late. I stood there. Lily was shrouded in white, lying in silent repose. I couldn’t muster a single tear. My body felt as if it were encased in ice. At this time, Quinn arrived at the hospital. Upon seeing me, she grabbed my arm with urgency. “Shawn, you’re just in time. Edward’s condition has worsened. Come with me for the check-up!” I shook her off, startling her. “Shawn!” “Quinn, I owe you nothing. I won’t be donating any bone marrow.” She hadn’t anticipated my defiance, so her expression darkened. “I’m not asking! I’m ordering you! Come with me now!” Her position as the president of a publicly traded company imbued her with an unmistakable aura of authority. She moved through life with a strength and decisiveness that was both admired and, at times, feared. In the past, I would have complied without question. But now, with my mother’s life hanging in the balance between us, I refused to be their living bone marrow bank any longer. Yet, I had underestimated her resolve. Quinn summoned her bodyguards, who forcibly dragged me into the ward for a thorough examination. They disregarded the fact that Lily’s body was still in the morgue. My protests were wild. “Quinn Lee! “My mother suffered a heart attack and is gone. Now, you still seek to extract my bone marrow. Are you even human? “I will never forgive you!” A flicker of surprise crossed Quinn’s eyes. “What did you say?” My eyes were ablaze. “Don’t believe me? Go ask anyone! “Half the wedding witnessed it!” Quinn pressed her lips together and kept silent for a long while before she spoke, “Shawn, the dead are gone, but the living are what matter now. “What do you think?” I was on the verge of exploding. How could she speak with such icy detachment? Indeed, in her eyes, no one held more importance than her beloved Edward. My ailing mother was but a burden to her. Now that my mother was gone, didn’t it align perfectly with their desires? I sneered, “If I refuse to donate, no one can force me!” Lily was gone, so I would never beg Quinn for anything again. Quinn’s eyes grew cold, a sign of her rising anger. Just as she was about to unleash her fury, a soft, masculine voice intervened from behind, “There’s no need. If Shawn isn’t willing, let’s not force him.” Edward stood at the doorway and clutched his chest, looking frail and vulnerable. Quinn immediately went to him, embracing him protectively. “No, you are the most important. If he won’t donate, I have other means.” Edward, nestled in her arms, shot me a provocative smile. I couldn’t help but sneer, “I won’t donate. If you want my bone marrow, just end my life!” A fierce glint flashed in her eyes, but I was not intimidated, standing my ground with defiance. She retorted coldly, “You wouldn’t want anything unfortunate to happen to your mother’s remains, would you?” For a moment, I was taken aback. A surge of anger welled up within me. “Quinn, you wouldn’t dare!” “After you donate your bone marrow, I’ll act as if nothing happened,” she said. She held Edward close as they left, leaving me on the floor, defeated. I knew all too well she was capable of carrying out her threat.

“Quinn! You’ll rue this day!” My voice, laced with hysteria, seemed to momentarily stun Quinn, but she paused only briefly before striding away without a backward glance. I gasped for air, but before I could gather my thoughts, I was hoisted up by her bodyguards. “Ms. Lee insists you undergo a check-up first. You’re free to leave only after the bone marrow donation,” they declared. I couldn’t suppress my shout, “This is illegal! Release me!” But I was powerless, a mere speck against their might. I was dragged into the operating room. The sight of the doctor in his white coat, syringe in hand, sent a jolt of panic through me. His words, meant to be a warning, echoed ominously, “Think of your mother; don’t resist in vain.” I offered a bitter smile as the needle pierced my skin. The pain seared. It felt as though my very essence was being siphoned away until darkness claimed me. When consciousness returned, I was alone, save for the cold embrace of the hospital bed. An eternity seemed to pass before a nurse appeared. “You’re awake. Rest up.” Ignoring the throbbing pain, I grasped her arm, demanding, “Where’s Quinn? “Where is my mother’s body?” The nurse looked embarrassed and murmured, “I know little of this. You’ll have to ask Ms. Lee.” In my desperation, I tumbled from the bed, landing in a heap. As if on cue, Quinn entered. She rushed to my side to assist me back onto the mattress. I seized her collar. “Quinn, where is my mother?” “Calm down. She’s been sent to the funeral home. You can visit her anytime,” she replied. I made to leave, but she restrained me, stating, “The doctor said you just had your bone marrow extracted; you need to rest.” “I need no rest!” I snapped, shrugging off her hand coldly. “Remember, this is the last time I donate bone marrow. From this moment on, we’re even!” I tried to push past her, but she clutched my wrist tightly, pleading, “Please! Without the bone marrow, Edward will die!” I sneered, “Did you ever consider, when you left me at the altar, that my mother might leave me because of it? “She was my only kin!” Quinn’s gaze met my bloodshot eyes. Her brow was furrowing slightly. “I’m sorry. I can make amends. The wedding can be rescheduled; your position as my husband is secure.” “As if I care for such honors! “Quinn, you don’t believe I’d forgive you so easily, do you?” I yearned to see a flicker of guilt in her eyes, but there was none. Quinn inhaled deeply. “I will compensate you.” “Compensate? With a life at stake, the only recompense is a life for a life. You owe me your life!” Quinn’s patience frayed. “Enough, Shawn! Sometimes, death is a mercy!” My hand flew, the slap echoing in the room. Her face turned away from the impact, and a voice called from the doorway, “Quinn! What’s wrong?” Edward, clad in a hospital gown, looked pale and stumbled towards us, “Quinn! “How dare you hit her?” Edward accused. He glared at me. I sneered, “A slap is too gentle. Quinn, can’t you bear this from me? Or will you hit me back? Be my guest!” I lifted my chin to confront Quinn, who sighed and prepared to speak, but I turned on my heel and left. “Where are you going?” “It’s none of your concern! I’ve made it clear! We’re even!” I wrested myself free from her grip. As Quinn made a move to follow me, Edward’s strength faltered. He fell into her embrace, an act that halted her right in her pursuit.

I walked away and made a beeline for the funeral home. After presenting my ID, I was finally granted access to Lily’s remains. Her rigid body was rolled out from the cold storage. I knelt before her, my hands trembling as I lifted the white shroud. The sight of her familiar face sent a shiver through me, and only a dry rasp escaped my throat. I couldn’t summon tears; there was no outlet for my emotions. My heart ached with a pain so profound it felt as though it would shatter. I clutched her hands, now cold and unyielding, a stark contrast to the warmth I remembered. Vividly, I recalled the moments before the wedding, Lily embracing me and gently said, “You’ll be married soon, Shawn. Even if I’m not around, you’ll have someone to care for you.” None of us could have anticipated that Quinn would abandon our wedding to be with Edward. It was my fault, my naivety. I believed that by her side, through years of devotion, I could win her true heart. I had overestimated myself and underestimated Edward’s place in her heart. I lost track of time until a staff member’s voice broke the silence, “Mr. Blake, are you done? It’s time.” I stepped to the side. My nod was barely perceptible, and with a heavy heart, I watched as Lily was conveyed into the crematorium. When she emerged, all that remained of her was contained within a small box. Holding the urn, I frowned. Lily had been confined to that small city all her life, never venturing beyond its borders. Her greatest wish was to see me settle into a good marriage. Yet, I couldn’t even afford a respectable burial plot for her. With limited funds, I liquidated what I could, scraping together 30,000 dollars. Just then, a staff member approached excitedly. “Mr. Blake, someone has paid a significant sum to upgrade your mother’s tomb to a high-end one. It’s over there, with an excellent location!” I was taken aback. “What did you say? Who did this?” “She’s still here. Her surname is Lee.” Hearing this, I strode towards the office area ahead. The moment I laid eyes on Quinn, my fists clenched involuntarily. “Quinn, what game are you playing?” Quinn met my gaze. “Shawn, this is a gesture of my affection. Accepting it would ease my conscience.” “We’re simple folk; we can’t afford your generosity.” Her delicate eyebrows arched sharply. “Shawn, why the pretense? “It’s just a wedding. I never wished your mother die, but she was ill. Must you be so petty?” Her words were harsh, cutting. I drew a deep breath. “I’ve said it before. There’s a life between us, so I won’t forgive you. “Drop the act!” When Lily was alive, Quinn never visited her, only expressing interest when Lily’s health was failing. Quinn had overseen our wedding preparations, disregarding Lily’s suggestions. Quinn only viewed our wedding as an opportunity to network. That explained why no one seemed to care when Lily suffered a heart attack. Quinn’s anger flared at my words. “Shawn, don’t be ungrateful! She’s not just anyone; she’s your mother, my elder. She deserves a serene farewell. Do you really want her final resting place to be so unbecoming?” Without waiting for my response, Quinn snatched the urn from my grasp and handed it to a nearby staff member. “Bury her at once!” She then instructed her secretary, “Summon all senior leaders of Lee Group to attend! “Notify the media!” I clenched my fists, my voice rising, “Quinn, what the hell are you playing at? My mother’s funeral isn’t some promotional event for your company! “And I won’t let anyone else take charge of it!”

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My college roommate, Bella Lewis, used my photo and identifying information to have an online relationship with a senior in high school, Samuel Johnson. Bella was afraid that Samuel would blow her cover after applying to the same colleges as her, so she mentioned her breakup to Samuel while he was taking his entrance exams. Samuel was so affected by the breakup that he didn’t apply to any of the colleges. Under the influence of his extreme emotions, Samuel chose to take revenge on Bella by sneaking through our college with a machete and hacking me to death on the spot as I had just come out of the library. When Samuel stabbed me over forty times to vent his anger, he went to the roof of the school building to accuse me of how I seduced him, broke up with him before his entrance exams, and neglected him after he was rejected by all the colleges. Samuel jumped off the roof of a building, and he put my parents and the school in the spotlight. Bella, in order to avoid responsibility for impersonating me, she led netizens to do cyber violence against my parents and me by creating rumors. Netizens got too angry and abused me, throwing garbage in front of my parents’ door. In the end, my parents were hit by a car and killed while they were trying to do right by me. Since I died a horrible and unjust death, the fate gave me a chance to be reborn. “Audrey, is my boyfriend handsome?” Bella handed her cell phone to me. In her photo album, there was a young and handsome teenager’s face, and Samuel looked cute and handsome as he looked at the camera. I felt so upset looking at the familiar scene in front of me. I unconsciously took a step back while my roommate, Grace Wilson, who was watching the fun, had gathered around. Looking at Samuel in the photo, we exclaimed that Bella had found such a wonderful boy. Across the crowd, I looked behind Samuel at the high school graduation countdown and the signs encouraging cheering for entrance exams, as if I felt the pain of the several stab wounds I had suffered again. Bella and I were good friends from high school through college. We agreed to go to the same college, and we were lucky enough to be assigned to the same dorm in the same major. Bella and I were inseparable, and we seemed very close. However, my best friend, who I thought was the best friend, ended up causing me to die a horrible death. In my previous life, Bella asked me the same thing if her boyfriend Samuel looked handsome and nice. I was very surprised to see Samuel’s background and asked the question in my mind. “Are you in love with a senior in high school? Isn’t he trying to study hard? Wouldn’t dating affect his studies?” I didn’t realize that this casual question was taken by Bella as me being jealous and sarcastic. Bella retrieved her cell phone in anger. “You’re jealous that I found such a handsome boyfriend, aren’t you?” Immediately afterward, Bella opened her cell phone and found a few pictures of Samuel’s abs and said smugly, “I didn’t like young boys before, and I find mature men more attractive. A young boy is very energetic, and he will treat me like his sister and give me everything he has. Wouldn’t I be charmed by him?” I didn’t argue against Bella at that time, and I just thought she was so naive that I didn’t realize it was the beginning of the disaster. Until my death, I was kept in the dark. However, in fact, Bella used my photo and information to have an online relationship with Samuel, with whom she agreed to apply to our school. When Samuel’s grades were enough to apply to our college, Bella was afraid of meeting Samuel and being discovered by him and revealing the fact that she had impersonated me, so she broke up with Samuel on the eve of his entrance exams. As a result of the breakup, Samuel failed his entrance exams. At the party, all his classmates had received their acceptance letters and were going to college, but Samuel could only clench his fists silently under the table. Everyone said Samuel was unfortunate. If he hadn’t made a mistake, he would have applied to an outstanding college. However, Samuel now had to wait until the following year to continue taking the entrance examinations or go to an unimpressive university. Samuel blamed his failure in the entrance exams on the breakup and developed such a grudge against me that he bought machetes and snuck into my school to hack me to death. He slashed me forty-five times, each time fatally. Looking at Samuel’s insane and unfamiliar face, I wondered why I had messed with him. Bella felt anxious as she hid behind the crowd. In this life, I didn’t say anything, but Grace had already found out who Samuel was, and she asked what I had wondered in my previous life. “Your boyfriend wouldn’t be a senior in high school, would he?” Bella was unsatisfied with Grace’s confusion, and uttered the exact same answer as in my previous life. “So what? He’ll come to our school for college later.” Perhaps seeing that I didn’t say anything, Bella took it upon herself to walk up to me and take my hand as if she and I were the closest friends. “Audrey, you’ll support me, right?” Watching Bella blush in front of me, as if she was shy from being in love, how could I have thought that this was the person who caused my death? When I came back to my senses, I withdrew my hand, my voice hoarse. “You should decide your own business, and it has nothing to do with me!” Bella turned indifferent instantly as she looked at me accusingly. “Aren’t we best friends anymore? Don’t you want me to be happy?” Sure enough, as soon as Bella’s had finished speaking, Grace immediately accused me, “Why are you going so far? Bella, let’s go!”

I watched indifferently as Bella and Grace left the dorm together. They chatted about what they were going to wear to the party with the basketball team at night and what songs they were going to sing to get the boys’ attention. I went to the shower to wash my face and forced myself to calm down. In my last life, after I was hacked to death by Samuel, Grace clearly knew the truth, but Bella lied to Grace that she could use my death to get Grace into graduate school. Grace’s grades were average, and she was working hard to prepare for graduate school. She would certainly prefer to go to grad school for nothing without putting in any effort or getting up early and struggling. For the sake of Bella’s hush money and the lure of graduate school, Grace not only didn’t tell the truth, but she rumored about my private life as a roommate after my death. Uninformed netizens fell for Bella and Grace’s lies. They used my death in an orgy of cyber judgment, and they used cyber violence and actual intimidation against my parents until my parents were hit by a van and killed. The real murderers who killed me, Bella and Grace, stepped over my dead body to qualify for graduate school. After Bella graduated from graduate school, she married a wealthy entrepreneur, while Grace went abroad to further her education. They both lived happily ever after. Instead, I died without an intact body and my entire family died. Why? Thinking of this, my tears flowed unconsciously. In this life, I would no longer pretend to be deaf or dumb to hide the truth. I was going to guard the people I loved, and I was going to make these evil people pay. I wouldn’t let Bella and Grace go. It was March, three months before Samuel’s entrance exams, and Bella and Samuel hadn’t argued with each other yet. I had to use this time to save myself and push the murderers to hell. I should know myself as well as the enemies. After I found out Samuel’s identity through a lot of hard work, I realized that Samuel was unexpectedly in the same high school as I was with Bella. There were no excessive coincidences in the world, and what there were were things that happened. Samuel was two years younger than me, and Bella and I had met Samuel long ago in our senior year of high school. When Bella and I were welcoming the new students to school, Bella noticed this handsome boy right away, and she purposely took me past Samuel’s classroom… However, we were under a lot of academic pressure in our senior year of high school, so Bella just thought of it as her way of relaxing, and I didn’t really take it to heart. Instead, I didn’t realize that eventually Bella would become entangled with Samuel. Bella would secretly use my photos in order to pretend to be me, so the first thing I did was close my Instagram. I wanted to see what tricks Bella would come up with if I didn’t provide the material. Sure enough, when Bella got back to the dorm at night, she immediately found me. “Audrey, why did you close your Instagram?” In case someone opened her album and found all my photos, Bella used to just pick out one from my photos on Instagram and send it to Samuel. Now that I closed my Instagram, Bella didn’t have a material, so how was she going to send Samuel my pictures afterward? I forced a smile and looked over at Bella, “What’s it to you if I close my Instagram? Why do you follow my feed so closely?” My attitude pissed Bella off, but she didn’t forget to pretend to be nice to me. “I thought you closed Instagram because something happened to you, but I didn’t realize you thought that much of me!” If I had heard those words in my previous life, I would have immediately apologized to Bella and comforted her by buying her her favorite gift. However, I just clenched my fists indifferently now and made a point of reminding her, “I thought you were peeking at my Instagram and stealing my pictures.” Bella looked embarrassed. However, it then occurred to her that what she was doing was extremely secretive, and there was no way I would find out, so she straightened her back and pretended to be upset as she explained, “If you really think that about me, I really can’t defend myself in a hundred ways!” Grace couldn’t handle Bella being misunderstood, so she threw a tantrum at me. “We are so unlucky to meet a vicious and disgusting roommate like you!” Watching them get so close, I repeated Grace’s words, “So unlucky…” That night, Bella spent the entire night on the phone with Samuel in the dormitory. She gently pouted to Samuel on the other side of the phone that she had a pimple on her face, so she didn’t send him a picture. Bella promised that she would wait until Samuel’s entrance exams were over to video call him and meet him. As for the fact that she hadn’t been video calling Samuel right now because she was afraid it would affect his study… I couldn’t laugh at Bella’s nonsense, because I died in my previous life because of these lies of hers. But a lie was a lie and truth would come to light sooner or later. l was looking forward to the day Bella was exposed.

When I was reborn, I voluntarily distanced myself from Bella and stopped providing her with any photos. In my previous life, Bella took many videos and photos of me under the guise of recording my life for me. She said she was recording the beautiful life, but she was actually sending all that content to Samuel. After I died, Bella edited my photos to make me look like a leading actress in a porno movie, creating rumors that I was a sugar baby and that I had a messy personal life. Bella couldn’t get my photos and information from my Instagram, and she was afraid that Samuel would notice something, so she had no choice but to take a sneak peek of me. Looking at Bella holding up her cell phone to sneak a picture of me, I purposely made a face. Not only did this scare Bella, who was snapping pictures of me, but the pictures she took were ugly. Bella had been throwing tantrums in the dormitory more and more often lately, and Samuel was not only under pressure from his study, but he also had to take care of Bella’s emotions. If I wanted to ruin Bella, I should have indulged her first. That was when I was contacted by my monitor in high school to ask if I wanted to make a video encouraging seniors in high school. I was studying at a prestigious college. As college students, we used to record encouragement videos for seniors in high school every year. In my previous life, Bella was trying to cheer up her boyfriend when she and Samuel agreed to surprise him in an encouragement video. I had no idea. I filmed the encouragement video with Bella’s deception, and I told the camera, “I hope we’ll stay together and have a great future ahead of us!” This statement made me feel extremely embarrassed. I thought I was encouraging seniors to apply to our school, but I didn’t realize I was becoming a part of this crazy couple’s game. In this life, I could use the opportunity. My relationship with Bella was getting worse, but Samuel still made the same request he made in my previous life to express his love in an encouragement video. So, Bella had to find me. She didn’t dare mention the encouragement video for fear that I would find out the truth, so she found another excuse. “Audrey, I need to film an assignment for my elective coursework, so please help me!” I wanted to reject her outright, but thinking about my plan, I agreed. Bella cheerfully ordered me to change into a white dress and stand under the oak tree at school to say the disgusting lines I said in my previous life. I totally cooperated with Bella’s command and finally got the video she wanted. It was funny to watch Bella send the video to Samuel after she sent it to the monitor. I refilmed the encouragement video and said some secret words in it. A week later, when the monitor was editing the compilation video, she asked me why I shot two videos and which one I needed to keep. I apologized to the monitor and only kept the one I shot, teasing that I must be put in the middle of the video. Once the monitor sent me the edited video ahead of time, she told me that the video would be shown before the exams, wishing them good luck in their exams. I watched the video with satisfaction that I was put first. I was wearing a bright red dress and smiling brightly and widely for the camera. One day, I was about to go to the library to study when Bella angrily pushed open the door of the dorm. She accused me in anger, “Why did you make another encouragement video? Why did you say things like that in the video?” I felt secretly delighted inside as I watched Bella, who was furious. The only way to beat Bella was to pretend to be like her, and it was the only way to provoke her. I pretended to be unaware. “Why can’t I make an encouragement video? Don’t you want me to encourage them?” Bella had nowhere to vent the anger that filled her mind. She couldn’t say she had taken the video, but she thought of something then. “Why did you say that you were always single in the video? Also, you asked them to introduce you a boyfriend. Are you that shameless?” I picked up the book in my hands and said with frustration, “But I’ve never been in a relationship before. You already have a boyfriend, so can’t I just try to find one through a video?” That was right. In the encouragement video I filmed, after encouraging the students to study hard, I announced that I had been single all along. Moreover, I invited students to apply to my college and introduce me a boyfriend. There was nothing wrong with the video, but Bella and Samuel agreed to announce their relationship after Samuel finished applying to college, but now I had made it clear in the encouragement video that I was single. How would Bella lie about pretending to be me? And how was she supposed to convince Samuel?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MyFiction” app 🔍 search for “397361”, and watch the full series ✨! #MyFiction #Rebirth #SecondChance #Revenge

I stood by Ethan Brooks for twelve years and was married to him for five, but I still couldn’t compete with his first love. He loved her; his safe was filled with things she had given him. When I saw their photo together, I knew our marriage was over, and I was ready to let him go. But three months after the divorce, he came to me with teary eyes and begged, “Isabella, you’re the one I love!”

I brought a man home—handsome but amnesiac. I told him he was my fiancé, and he believed me. But then his memory returned. Guess what? He was a millionaire! However, he left without looking back. Two years later, we met again. He suddenly grabbed me, wild-eyed. “Where did you go?” he rasped.

The day of my release has finally come, but it’s not the reason I’ve been waiting for so long. Today is the day my boyfriend Charles will finally propose to me. My cellmate Trina hugged me tightly. “We don’t want you to leave. If you go, who will help us with wounds and illnesses? That idiot who only engages in harassment but goes by the name of a doctor?” I don’t want my release day to be so sad. I hugged Trina and said, “Cheer up. You know how long I’ve been counting down to today. Aren’t you happy for me?” Before going to prison, I had a bright future as a surgeon, and Charles was a rising star in politics. We were a perfect match. When a political opponent planted drugs in his home, I stepped forward to take full responsibility for it. Even though I lost my medical license, I ensured my loved one’s future. He promised me that the day I got out of prison would be the day he proposed to me. Trina shakes back her long braids. “I said, do you really think this Charles dude is going to show up for you, after all these years? He’s never once come to visit you.” I bristle at her doubtful tone. While I entrusted my life to Charles, other prisoners had their doubts, and I won’t judge them. After all, many inmates haven’t found their true love yet. They don’t understand the meaning of childhood sweethearts, family, and commitment. “Of course,” I say. “Charles is a great guy. He sends me a letter every week. He hasn’t visited me because his status is sensitive. I went to jail, Trina, and it was not an honorable thing to do. And my dad wouldn’t lie to me, either. I’m finally going to get my life back, Trina.” I’m sure he will. My father has brought so many messages from Charles over the years. His weekly visits remind me that I did the right thing, taking the fall for Charles. Everything is going to work itself out soon; Charles and I will be married, my life will be back on track, and I can finally put the last three years behind me. “Okay, Nicki,” Trina sighs, turning back to her letter. “Honestly, it kind of sounds like you’re perfect for each other.” ** After a final round of hugs and a few promises to write – which I absolutely intend to keep – I’m ready to go. It’s weird, leaving. I clutch my little bag of personal effects, squeezing my engagement ring in my fist like a lifeline. It feels cold against my skin. I look behind me one final time before taking a deep breath and stepping into the lobby, ready to embrace freedom at last. No one is there. I look around again, even going to the door to peer out into the parking lot. It’s empty. The dingy, plastic seats of the lobby are empty. Everything is empty. Uneasy, I ask the guard on duty if they’d informed my family of my release. The guard frowns, checks a computer, and tells me that they contacted my family twice over the past month. My heart sank, but I believe it’s just a misunderstanding. Charles and my family wouldn’t abandon me. They must have simply gotten the timing wrong. A bus journey later, which swallows up the bulk of my money, I’m wandering along Times Square. Everything feels so big, it’s overwhelming. All these people, going wherever they want. So many people, so many crowds, just so much. They don’t know how lucky they have it, is my first thought. My second thought is that I don’t know how I was ever used to this much open space and this many random people pressing in around me. I’m not sure that I like it anymore; it makes me feel like screaming. I pass a bridal shop and pause to look at all of the gorgeous dresses. I never got to the dress-buying stage. I wonder who I can even ask to go with me, now that the wedding will be back on, besides my stepmom and stepsister. I’m not sure I have any friends left. My reflection catches my eye, and I wince. I look rough. My dark hair is dull and lank from years of split ends and cheap soap. My skin is flaky, and my eyebrows have overgrown like a wild thornbush. Honestly, maybe it’s good that nobody came to pick me up. I should probably have a spa weekend before I see Charles again. I want him to be overcome with longing, not grossed out by my unibrow. A flashing screen from the next shop redirects my attention, and I move to take a closer look. Wow, the Alpha’s daughter is getting married! The Alpha is the leader of the werewolf community, and he has a few children jostling for the position of heir. Werewolf culture has always been fascinating to me; in fact, it’s one reason that I specialized in werewolf anatomy in medical school. The camera pans across the Alpha’s family, toasting the new bride. One catches my eye – the Alpha’s son? Marcus. I’ve seen him before. I treated a whole pack of wolf soldiers when they came back from the front, and he was there. Why was the Alpha’s son at a regular hospital, not some private fancy one? But he was there, with his men, comforting them and bolstering their spirits. Insisting that he be seen last, as he was the least injured, kissing my hand when I prioritized his badly-injured soldiers over others waiting. Marcus looks almost as handsome on TV as he did in person. Black hair, eyes the color of a Caribbean sea. Sun-kissed skin, smooth and marless except for the faded scar across his cheek. He’s surprisingly trim for a werewolf; he wears a pearl-gray suit that accentuates his narrow hips, long legs, firm shoulders. I stitched up that scar myself, and he was so patient and kind while I did. He didn’t flinch at my needle, instead chatting with me quietly, asking questions about how I got into studying werewolf anatomy and complimenting my quick work. I wonder if he – All thoughts of Marcus are abruptly blanked out of my mind as the camera moves to the bride’s beaming soon-to-be husband. My legs wobble, my brain spins. I stumble backward, hardly registering the blare of a car horn behind me as I trip over the curb and into the street. Oh, my god. It’s Charles.

The next bus only gets me within three miles of home. I want to get there faster, but my phone is dead after trying to call Charles multiple times. My calls wouldn’t go through, and I have a sick feeling in my gut that my number has been blocked. The air is chilly, and I hug my inadequate coat closer to my body. Frozen slush sticks to my shoes. By the time I turn the corner and see our big, white house sitting squarely in the middle of the block, I’m freezing. I reluctantly go up the front steps, unsure of what I’ll find when I get inside. Should I knock? It feels foolish to knock at my own front door, but I don’t even have a key anymore. Turns out, I don’t have to worry. The door flings open before I can even reach for the doorbell, and my stepbrother Brodie stands in front of me with a smug grin on his face. “Woohoo!” he shouts. “Mom! Paul! The convict returns to darken our doorstep!” Becki’s blonde head pokes out from another doorway behind him. “Oh, my god,” my stepsister says in disgust. “You look like shit, Nicole. Gross. Prison just drips off of you, not that I’m surprised. We’re going to have to wash anything you touch.” I’m stunned. I’ve never been super close to Becki or Brodie, it’s true, but they’ve never been outright cruel like this. “What’s going on?” I ask. “Why didn’t anyone pick me up at the prison?” Becki snorts. “Don’t blame me. I can’t believe you even have the nerve to show your face here again, after what you did. Our family is in disgrace because of you.” I’m baffled. Everyone here knows I didn’t commit any crimes – they are the ones who convinced me to take the fall for Charles in the first place, after all. I open my mouth to remind Becki of this, but my father appears in the hallway before I can get a word out. I look at him hopefully, waiting for a defense, but he just looks grim. He waves me inside before turning around and walking into the dining room. I follow. Darlene is sitting at the elegantly polished table, sipping tea from my mother’s antique china set. I grit my teeth. “Nicole,” she says calmly, glancing at me. She’s head-to-toe in Armani, impeccable and decked out with six pounds of makeup and more jewelry than would be necessary for a dinner at the White House, never mind just sitting around drinking tea in her own home. “Darlene,” I say. “Welcome back, dear.” Darlene reaches for the teapot, refilling her cup with a spindly, manicured claw. She stirs a spoonful of sugar into her tea and lifts it to her mouth, a red gash in her overly-powdered face. “Welcome?” I say. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t anyone come pick me up today?” “Nicole, please,” Darlene says. “I don’t have the time for your hysterics.” Confused, I turn to my father, who is standing in the doorway staring at a spot over my head. “Dad,” I say. “I can’t get a hold of Charles. I called like, thirty times, but I think he’s blocked my number. And I saw on TV that he’s marrying the Alpha’s daughter? What’s going on?” Becki shrieks with laughter somewhere behind me. “Oh, my god, Nicole. You really are even stupider than you look. Did you seriously think you could still marry Charles after your little stint in prison? He’s the financial officer of the Alpha’s pack now; he can’t be seen with a freaking ex-con.” Brodie hoots as well. “You are so gullible, Nicole,” he says, wiping tears from his eyes. “Of course Charles blocked your number, you moron. We’d have blocked your number and changed the locks if we didn’t have to worry about doing damage control to clean up your mess.” “My mess?” I ask, bewildered and hurt. “Dad, you know the real reason I was in prison. Is the Robinson family really going to just dump and forget me like this? Don’t you have anything to say?” Darlene cuts in, her voice glittering and sharp as the edge of a diamond. “Nicole, please, I told you to quit the hysterics. No one asked you to do this; it was entirely your choice. You don’t get to play the victim now that the consequences have come home to roost.” “You’ve embarrassed all of us, Nicole,” Becki chimes in, crossing her arms. “You’ve disgraced this entire family. I don’t know what other reaction you’d expect.” I stare at the four of them in disbelief. I think back to that awful day, the day that Charles’s mom called Dad in a panic, sobbing about the unexpected police warrant and the drugs, the words “enough to make a case for criminal intent to distribute” swirling in the heavy air. I think about Dad and Darlene begging me to take the fall, to not let Charles’s career be ruined. I think about Becki, shouting, “My god, Nicole, he’s going to marry you either way. Who cares if you go to prison? Are you going to support him or not?” “You and Charles grew up together,” Dad had said. “You know he’ll stand by you. Now, are you going to do the right thing or not?” Now, I stand in my dining room, feeling frozen to the core. Dad is still staring at the ceiling, silent. Darlene is prim, with a glittering malice in her eyes. Becki smirks. Brodie grins like a predator. They know; they have to know what they’re doing. I don’t understand any of this. “Will someone at least help me get in contact with Charles, so I can have some closure around all this?” I ask. My voice sounds like it belongs to someone else. “I need to at least hear some of this from him. I should–I need to at least return the ring? Maybe I could go to his wedding, just to–” Dad finally speaks up for the first time. “Nicole, if you truly love Charles, you will leave him alone to get on with his life. He’s doing very well. He doesn’t need your – this – mess coming back to haunt him, much less at his own wedding.” Becki says it more bluntly. “He’s not going to talk to you, Nicole. Forget it.” Darlene finishes her tea, ringing a bell for the maid to come clear the dishes. Her voice is suddenly businesslike. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen. Nicole, you are going to find a job, any job, and reintegrate yourself into society to minimize the humiliation you’ve caused this family as much as you can. And I won’t hear any more moaning and mooning about Charles. You’ve made your choices, and now you can live with them.” Numb, I turn and leave the dining room, going down to my little basement room. I shut the door and collapse onto my old bed, the sheets smelling stale and musty, like they haven’t been changed in years. I guess they probably haven’t been. I’ve never felt so alone in my life. That night, watching the news on my phone, I see Marcus again. He talks about charity work and the joy of giving back to one’s community. Heart aching, I shut off my phone. Pretty words, but everybody has pretty words when they’re cheap and easy. How can I ever trust anyone again? I hold the cover letter I wrote and wait for the possible turn of events tomorrow.

“We don’t hire people with a criminal record, miss,” the manager of Graham’s Grocery says coldly, shoving my resume back across his desk as if it’s contaminated. “This is a family business. We hold our employees to a certain standard.” I gather my resume, trying not to cry, but tears overspill and trickle down my cheeks, anyway. The manager looks embarrassed, annoyed at my emotion. He turns his face away and ignores me as I stumble from his office. A nearby security guard clocks my tears as well, and is equally unfeeling about it. He gestures to the fire exit nearby. “This way, please, miss.” I slip out into the alleyway and straight into an ankle-deep puddle, the heavy door slamming behind me with an air of finality. Still no news about or from Charles. No one will tell me anything, and I don’t understand why. What does my family have to gain from lying like this? If they’re so worried about humiliation, why don’t they stand up for me? What are they getting out of still protecting the Robinsons? It doesn’t make any sense. I turn a corner and skid to a halt. Becki is standing in a huddle with a bunch of her friends, smoking cigarettes outside an upscale wine bar. Becki’s always been a loudmouth, and her voice carries over to me. “Yeah, our families have been so close for, like, generations. Like basically back to the Mayflower times. Charles is practically my older brother.” “You really think he’s going to introduce you to Marcus?” one of her friends asks. Muff, I think her name is. Becki’s friends have always had strange names, I remember. “Um, yeah,” Becki blows a stream of smoke over Muff’s head. “He’s already said he would. We’re both going to be at the wedding, after all, and he says Marcus doesn’t even have a date. It’s the perfect opportunity.” I gasp, feeling like someone has punched me in the stomach. Of course – this is why everyone is still protecting Charles. I’ve taken the fall, not just for Charles, but for the whole family. They’re going to throw me under the bus so they can climb up the political ladder on Charles’s coattails. I’ve been such a fool – a naive, trusting fool. I know I should keep my mouth shut and keep moving, that nothing good can come from a confrontation, but I can’t help it. I’m so overwhelmed by everything that’s happened in the past few days, I can’t seem to stop myself. I approach Becki and her friends, walking quietly and unseen until I’m standing right behind her. “Charles is a complete fraud, Becki,” I say, loud enough for everyone to hear me. “And you know that. Was this really your plan – to throw me under the bus and rely on the same man who betrayed me in the first place? What happened about being so embarrassed by what he’s done to our family?” Becki jumps, but she recovers fast. She stubs out her cigarette and reaches for another with a sneer on her face as she turns to me. “Oh, look who it is, the little family convict come to ruin my day,” she says. “You’re just jealous. Marcus is the most eligible bachelor in NYC, and I’m going to be his date at the biggest society wedding of the decade. I’m going to become the new Luna, and who are you going to be? Nobody.” “I’m not jealous, Becki,” I say, crossing my arms. “In fact, I’m starting to think that you’ve always been jealous of me, and now you think you’re going to get one over on me because you and the rest of the family have decided to ruin my life.” “Jealous of you? Just because you got into med school?” Becki’s voice got even more shrill. Her anger meant I’d poked her where it hurt.”We didn’t ruin anything. You ruined your own life. Now I’m going to move up, and you’re going to be left behind.” Muff joins in with Becki’s laughing, and the others soon join in. “You always did think you were better than the rest of us, Nicole,” one of them says. She tosses her glossy red hair back behind her shoulder, shifting in her Jimmy Choos. “How the mighty have fallen.” I shrug. “Remember the fable of the farmer and the snake, Becki? The farmer tries to save the snake from the cold, but he dies of a snakebite anyway. Charles is a snake. He’s always going to bite.” Becki stares at me blankly, her mouth half open like a gaping fish. “I have no idea what you’re rambling about, Nicole, but I do know that I’m going to this wedding and you aren’t. You don’t stand a chance.” “I know where his wedding will be,” I say, gripping the handle of my purse so tightly that my fingers hurt. I feel suddenly reckless, like I’m spiraling out of control. “I can tell everyone the truth, and then whose lives will be blown up?” Becki throws back her head and laughs full in my face, her friends following suit. “Please. Alpha weddings are the most heavily-guarded events in the world,” she gasps. “They have more security than the president. You’re not getting within 50 feet of any of us. Christ, you’re delusional.” I grip my bag tighter, resisting the urge to throw it in Becki’s face. What is happening to me? I never used to be like this, but now I feel so angry that I could snap. “If I just go to the Alpha family and explain,” I insist. “You’ll never get anywhere near them,” Becki finishes her second cigarette, throwing it on the ground to grind beneath her heel. “Only the rich and powerful get an audience with the Alphas, and who are you? A nobody with a criminal record. No one would even believe you.” She turns and walks back into the wine bar, her gaggle of friends hissing and jeering at me as they follow. I’m left alone on the street again.   An hour later, I finish packing up in my little basement room. I don’t have much – just a few important documents, clothes, my mom’s jewelry that I was able to hide from Darlene when she seized most of it from the safe in my father’s office. Everything I own fits into one small suitcase, which I drag up the steps to the front door, not even bothering to be quiet about it. “What the hell is all this noise?” Darlene asks, coming into the hallway, my father close behind her. She sighs when she sees me. “Oh, Nicole. Are we going to have yet another one of your little scenes?” “It’s not a scene,” I say. “I’m leaving. Never contact me again, either of you.” Then I kick open the front door and leave, not even bothering to shut the door behind me. Yes, I have to leave the house. I can’t stand to spend even one more second with these hypocrites. I might not be able to find a job for a while, but I still had a fortune – a fortune that I had always treated as a secret. That’s why it hasn’t been taken by Darlene or Becki. Perhaps I could use that money to buy a ticket to Charles’ wedding. But first, I must find an auction house.

After dumping my belongings at the cheapest hotel I could find at the last minute, I head over to an auction house I know, to offload the jewelry and designer bags Charles has given me over the years. I don’t want it anymore, and I could definitely use the cash, even if I only get a fraction of what it’s worth. The appraiser looks up at me after sorting through the pile I’d dumped haphazardly onto her desk. The look of pity in her face betrays her next words. “I’m so sorry, honey,” she says gently. “I know you wouldn’t be here if you knew, which means someone has lied to you terribly. These are all fakes. Good fakes, but fakes.” I feel the blood drain from my face. “What?” I whisper. My head is swirling, pounding. This cannot be happening – haven’t I suffered enough? When will the blows stop coming? “I’m so sorry,” she says again, reaching out to pat my hand. “Whoever he is, he’s given you a pile of junk. It’s worthless, hon. I can’t give you anything for it. I’m so sorry.” Tears stream down my face before she even finishes talking. I flee, ignoring the lady calling after me, asking if I want to take my knock-off crap with me. I don’t. I don’t really have a plan, but I do know that I need to get justice for myself. I have to find a way to talk to the Alpha’s family, to maybe cause a scene at that wedding, but I just don’t know how. Becki is right, much as I hate to admit it: the place will be swarming with security. I sit alone at the scarred, wobbly desk in the hotel room that reeks of stale cigarettes, scanning the papers for sublets while drinking glasses of cheap red wine from a plastic cup. Not knowing what else to do, I decide to volunteer somewhere. At least it’ll give me something to put on my resume, and it’ll get me away from day drinking in a dingy hotel while feeling sorry for myself. I’m going to slip into a worse depression than I’m already in if I don’t do something constructive with my time, and at least this will be helping people in my community, people worse off than I am. Briefly, I think of Marcus on TV, saying much the same thing. I shove the thought of him away and pick up my phone to scan for volunteer opportunities nearby. That’s how I find myself filling out the official volunteer paperwork at St. Mary’s, the soup kitchen downtown. My days fall into a pattern of chopping vegetables, serving food, washing dishes: it’s peaceful. Until one afternoon in March, when the calm is broken by the sound of a kerfuffle outside. There’s a flurry of activity: cameras, journalists swarming around the outside of the building. Whispers run like wildfire through the kitchen. “Can you believe it? The Alpha’s son is volunteering today!” “I thought they always warn us before a celeb comes in?” I peer out the window. Sure enough, there’s Marcus, trailed by flashing cameras. He’s as handsome as ever: black hair combed back, blue eyes sparkling as he shoos away the journalists. “Thanks, but let’s drop it here, folks. Martin, come with me for personal shots, but I need everyone else to clear out, please. This isn’t a zoo; people deserve to eat in peace.” The journalists laugh as they head off into the rain. Marcus turns to flash a smile at us. I find myself examining his teeth – you can hardly tell that his canine teeth are a little longer and sharper than you’d find in a human. “How can I help?” he asks Martha, our manager. “Marcus!” she beams, tossing a dishrag over her shoulder. “You sneaky boy, you didn’t tell me you were coming. You know we ask our celebrity volunteers to call ahead; if you were anyone else, I’d have you out on your ear.” “Sorry, Marty,” he says with an apologetic grin. “Last-minute media stunt. Father is trying to amp them up before the wedding. I tried to fight it but was overruled.” “Well,” Martha snaps her dishrag at him. “I’ll let it slide this once. Get over there and dish out the rest of lunch, and then get your princely ass into the kitchen and scrub dishes.” “Yes, ma’am!” Marcus salutes. He winks at me as he goes to wash his hands. I focus on the stew, portioning it out with more precision than necessary. I don’t want to talk to Marcus – he’s going to be my ex-boyfriend’s brother-in-law, for god’s sake. It’s embarrassing. Marcus slides in next to me behind the counter. “What can I do?” he asks. “Unpack the dinner rolls,” I mumble, keeping my head down. I can feel him next to me, radiating heat. He smells like cedar and smoke, a clean, masculine scent that makes my head spin. Focus, I tell myself. If Marcus finds my behavior strange, he doesn’t show it. He unwraps the rolls and adds them to plates before I pass them across the counter. “Sorry for the interruption,” he says. “I hate this kind of thing, making a big fuss. It feels selfish and disruptive, but my father insists. And–” “And you have to play along,” I say. “I get it.” An awkward silence falls between us. I know I’m being unfriendly, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. He’s royalty, for god’s sake, and I’m – well, I’m nobody. After a few uncomfortable moments, Marcus turns to me and takes a breath. Before he can say anything, there’s a crash at the end of the line. People scatter around a little girl who has passed out on the floor. Her dark hair spills across the tiled floor in stark contrast to her pale and clammy face. Her mother shouts anxiously in Spanish and gently shakes her shoulder. Marcus vaults over the counter and grabs his coat, sliding it under the little girl to protect her from the cold floor. His phone is already in his hand. “Tom? It’s Marcus. Yes, I need you at St. Mary’s soup kitchen immediately. No, I’m fine, it’s a little girl. Hurry. Yes, I’ll call an ambulance next, but I want you to get over here as soon as you can; I want the best, and you’re the best.” I’ve whipped off my gloves and am already kneeling by the girl, checking her pulse and lifting her eyelids to see her pupils. “When’s the last time she ate?” I ask her mother in Spanish. The lady hesitates. “Ma’am, you’re not in trouble,” Marcus says. “We just want to help.” “Yesterday morning,” the lady says, crying. “I’m so sorry.” “Marcus, get the mom some water,” I command. “And call that ambulance.” I look up at Martha, who is hovering nearby. “I need something to elevate her feet. Quickly, please.” Martha nods and grabs a box from behind the counter, tossing it to me. I elevate the little girl’s feet and unbutton the collar of her shirt, to relax the restriction around her throat. I unbutton the front of her jeans for the same reason, and then I pull out my phone and flick on the flashlight setting to check her pupils. I check her pulse. “I think it’s probably just hunger and dehydration, but I’ll be happier if we can get her to the ER,” I finally announce to Marcus. “Her vitals are good and stable, and she’s coming around now.” I place a gentle hand on the little girl’s shoulder, holding her still. “Gentle, niña. You had a bad fall, and you need to take it slow.” The little girl nods in confusion, and I slip an arm around her back to slowly help her sit up, cradling her against me. I glance hesitatingly at her mom, biting my lower lip, and then back at the little girl. I wonder if I can get away with skipping the ambulance, maybe get someone here to drive the pair to the hospital. These people can’t afford an ambulance. “Cost won’t be an issue,” Marcus says, noticing my expression and reading it correctly. “Ma’am, we’re going to get your little girl to a hospital, and I’m going to cover the costs. When your daughter is feeling better, we’re going to get you some support. Don’t worry, it’s going to be okay.” “Professional as ever, Dr. Nicole,” he murmurs to me. I stare at him in disbelief. He gives me a small smile before calling 911. He even remembered my name? A nobody like me?

The ambulance arrives quickly, probably thanks to the fact that it’s the Alpha’s son who calls for one. Elena, the little girl, is carefully lifted onto a stretcher. Her mom flutters anxiously beside her, and they’re both gently led to the waiting ambulance. Marcus catches sight of Martin, his photographer, hovering over his shoulder with the film running. “That’s enough footage,” he says. “We don’t want to overdo it, Marty. We need to strike a good balance between ‘heroic Alpha’s son assists glamorous doctor during medical emergency’ and ‘exploiting an impoverished kid and invading her privacy for political clout.’” Martin nods. “I’ll try to minimize how much of her face gets shown, too,” he says. “You’re right – this is a great opportunity to show people how involved you are in your community, but we don’t want to overdo it and piss people off. We can settle it in tomorrow’s meeting.” Marcus agrees. “Take off for the rest of the afternoon, put something together for me to review, and we’ll talk at the meeting tomorrow.” He waves a hand as Martin leaves. “Thanks, Marty.” Then, Marcus turns to smile at me and give me another wink, before extending his hand to help me off the floor.   After the ambulance leaves and things calm down, Marcus and I find ourselves in the kitchen, washing dishes. The awkwardness between us has vanished in the crisis, and we pass the plates back and forth companionably. We work well together, I catch myself thinking. “How are you recovering from that war injury?” I ask. He gives me a sidelong glance, and I smile. “Don’t pretend to be surprised. I know you recognized me.” “I did,” he smiles back. “The fighting on the border has subsided, I’m proud to say. I haven’t been back since you patched me up so admirably.” He bows, and I laugh. But I can see from the way he’s washing the dishes that his shoulder must be bothering him, and I say so. “There are some stretches I can recommend that will help with the stiffness,” I offer. Then I flush, realizing how suggestive that sounded. Pull it together, Nicole, I tell myself. He is not going to be interested in someone like you. “It’s fine, really,” he says, but his expression turns mischievous. “Of course, if you wanted to give your professional opinion, I wouldn’t mind. Here, feel my arm as I wash the dishes.” I take a deep breath, trying to ignore how hard my heart is thudding in my chest. I hope my face isn’t as red as it feels. He’s wearing a white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, gleaming against his dark skin. I definitely want to get my hands on him. It’s hard to remember to keep it professional. Drying my hands, I step behind him, reaching up to squeeze and test his range of movement as he scrubs. My god, this man is ripped. His biceps feel like liquid steel under my probing fingers. His shoulders are broad and smooth, coiling and flexing beneath the silk of his shirt. I shake my head silently and try to pay attention to what I’m supposed to be doing. Focus, Nicole! He’s your patient. Well, sort of. “Your left shoulder is stiff,” I say. “I can feel the limitations in how you move. I can’t believe your fancy Dr. Tom hasn’t caught this; you should’ve been doing physio this entire time, and something tells me you haven’t.” I move around him to give him a stern glare, using my best disappointed doctor voice. Marcus ducks his head sheepishly. “You caught me, Dr. Nicole,” he says. He puts down the dish he’s washing and wipes his hands. “But don’t blame ‘Fancy Dr. Tom,’ because I haven’t told anyone about the shoulder pain. There’s just been too much else going on.” I shake my head and reach for his arm again, gently moving it through a few simple motions. I’m standing so close to him that his scent is almost overwhelming, the heat of his body soaking into my hands and warming me to my core. Marcus groans in relief. “My god, Dr. Nicole, that feels amazing. Can you come to my apartment and do this every day?” I blush and bite my lower lip. “I’d love to, but it’s not really necessary. I can easily teach you how to–” my words fade as Marcus leans a little closer to me, slipping a hand over mine on his shoulder. I freeze. As if sensing he’s maybe taken a step too far, Marcus drops his hand and goes back to the dishes. “How’s work at the hospital these days?” he asks. “I’ve been lucky enough not to have to go back, so I haven’t had a chance to catch up with you before now.” I hesitate, fumbling over my words. “Oh, I’m not at the hospital anymore. I’m, um, working independently now.” “Oh?” Marcus sounds surprised. “Well, in that case, I know that Tom has far more patients than he can realistically keep up with. I could introduce you to several potential clients, if you’d like?” Oh god, I wish the floor could just open up and swallow me whole. My face feels like it’s on fire as I focus too hard on drying the next dish Marcus hands me. “Actually, I–I don’t practice medicine anymore,” I say. “I–it’s a long story, and I’d rather not talk about it, if that’s okay.” Marcus pauses, turns to peer into my face. “Of course it’s okay, Nicole. Is there anything I can do to help you? I mean that very sincerely, I’ll add. You’re a fantastic doctor; I’d really like to help you if I can.” He looks so earnest, so kind, that I feel my throat closing up. All I want right now is to get Charles to pay for what he’s done to me. Charles, Darlene, my father, Becki, the Robinsons – all of them. I want them to pay. I want them to go to hell. “I–” This is going to sound insane, but it’s probably my best shot. “Could I get an invitation to your sister’s wedding?” Now Marcus looks really surprised. I hasten to add an explanation that won’t sound unhinged. “It’s just–I’ve always wanted to see a fairytale wedding,” I explain. “I used to be engaged to my ex-boyfriend, you see, and it didn’t, um, work out. I thought mine would be the fairytale wedding, but since it won’t be, I’d love to see someone else’s. Probably my best chance, a real Alpha family wedding and all.” Marcus hands me another plate, his hand brushing against mine. I jump – his touch against my bare skin feels like an electric shock. In a good way. I try to shake it off – focus, Nicole. When I glance up, Marcus is staring at me intently, like he’s puzzled by something that he just can’t quite put his finger on. I blush and start to retract my request; it’s too crazy, he’s going to guess why I want to go, this will never work– “Of course you can come to the wedding,” Marcus says casually, turning back to the soapy water in front of him. “But on one condition: you have to be my date.”

“Be your date?” I’m so shocked that I nearly drop the bowl in my hand. “You’ve got to be kidding me – the wedding is this weekend. How does the Alpha’s son not have a date for his sister’s wedding by now?” Marcus laughs aloud. It’s a gorgeous sound, thick and syrupy, like rich honey. I could drink that laugh; I could pour it into my bedtime tea and let it warm me from the inside out. His laugh is as comforting as his smile, and I wish I could catch it in my hands and keep it. He shakes his head as he dries his hands on a dish towel, the dishes finally done. “My standards are far too high,” he jokes, winking at me yet again. My god, I never thought that a man’s wink could leave my knees feeling like jelly. In fact, if you’d asked me yesterday, I’d say that winking was cheesy as hell. From Marcus, though, it comes across as the sexiest form of subtle flirting. Still, I don’t answer right away. Marcus has money and status, and that’s enough to drive any woman crazy. However, I don’t care about any of that. All I care about is revenge – I think. Something in Marcus’s smile makes me briefly reconsider what it is that I actually want. Maybe I could seduce him? That would be the best revenge, perhaps. Becki would be furious, if nothing else. But no. The old Nicole would’ve done that, used some guy for his status and hidden behind him, letting his mere presence in her life be the revenge that got under everyone else’s skin. Not anymore. The new Nicole wants to stand on her own two feet, for one thing. For another, I don’t want to hurt anybody. Certainly not somebody as kind, as funny and warm, as Marcus. “Okay,” I say. “I’ll be your date for the wedding.” Marcus’s grin could light up the whole room. “It’s a deal,” he says, reaching out to shake my hand.   Marcus picks me up in a limo on the day of the wedding. He’s dressed in a cream white suit that sets off his dark skin to perfection, with a waistcoat and pocket square that match the blue of his eyes. He looks good enough to eat. I’m wearing the one nice dress I’ve ever owned, a Prada evening gown that Darlene was forced to buy for me several years ago for an event that she couldn’t get out of leaving me at home for. I’m lucky that it still fits, and that Darlene had apparently forgotten that it exists, because it had still been in the back of my closet when I got out of prison. If Darlene remembered it was down there, it would’ve been long gone, probably the day after the prison bars slammed behind me for good. It’s a truly gorgeous gown, though: deep, velvety green that offsets my pale skin and dark hair. It’s off the shoulder, with a full waist that drapes elegantly to the floor. I paired it with my mother’s pearls, a short strand of silky gems around my throat and dangling from my ears. I feel like a princess. Marcus seems to like my outfit, too, because his smile widens as I’m helped into the car. “You look divine,” he murmurs into my ear. I blush, and he hands me a glass of champagne. “To fairytales,” he says. I clink my glass against his. “To fairytales.”   When we arrive at The Plaza, the most exclusive and expensive wedding venue in New York City, Marcus escorts me inside and finds me another glass of champagne before whispering an apology and loping off to greet a bunch of businessmen in suits. Well, that’s to be expected, I reason. This isn’t just a wedding; it’s a networking affair. I sip my champagne and gaze at the setting around me, completely in awe. Everything is draped in gold, pearl, and lace. It’s like being inside Cinderella’s palace. It’s the wedding of my dreams, but I’m no longer the bride. No, this isn’t a dream, not for me. It’s a graveyard, the death of all my hopes and ambitions. Feeling a bit queasy, I sip on my champagne to try to settle my stomach. “What. The. Fuck are you doing here?” a voice hisses behind me in fury. I whirl around to find Darlene glaring at me, her hand clenching my upper arm hard enough to hurt. “How the hell did you get in here?” Becki walks up behind her mother, looking equally enraged. Shit. I should have remembered that my family was going to be here. At first, I’m scared. Darlene never swears, not like this, and certainly not in public. She always prides herself on being the gracious lady of society, not a feather out of place. To have her claws digging red gouges in my arm, dragging me close enough that I can smell the sour reek of her breath, is terrifying. I feel like I’m eight years old again, small and powerless. Wait, no. Darlene and Becki aren’t my family, not anymore. I have just as much right to be here as they do. More, in fact. And I’m not a little girl anymore – they can’t hurt me. I stand up straighter, but before I can respond, Becki is screaming for security. I can see the panic in her eyes – she’s worried I’m going to ruin everything for her. Well, she’s right. And she deserves it. A security officer approaches us, looking annoyed. “Miss, can you please lower your voice? People are staring. What on earth is the problem?” “This woman has sneaked in,” Becki declares dramatically, jabbing a pointy fingernail into my chest. “She’s not on the invitation list. She’s an ex-girlfriend of the groom; she’s here to ruin the wedding.” “That’s impossible, miss,” the security guard says, shooting me an apologetic look. “We have incredibly strict protocols; everyone is vetted at the door. I’m going to need to ask you to calm down; you’re causing a scene.” Marcus suddenly appears next to me, looking irritated. Darlene abruptly lets go of my arm, and I rub the spot she was holding, coaxing feeling back into it. “What’s going on here?” he asks, glancing between us all. “Is there a problem?” Becki immediately turns coy and sweet, actually twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. “Oh, Marcus,” she simpers. “We haven’t been introduced yet, but I’m Charles’s sister. This is his ex-girlfriend; she’s sneaked in here to try to ruin the wedding.” Marcus looks incredulous. “I’ve met Charles several times,” he says. “He’s never mentioned a sister. I’m sorry, who are you? Jim–” he turns to the security officer “Do we know who these people are, or why they’re throwing a very loud fit in this very expensive lobby?” Rage flashes across Becki’s face, but she quickly gets her expression back under control. “I’m sorry, Marcus,” she says. “I’m not trying to attract attention. I’m just so concerned about this gate-crasher, you see. This idiot–” she waves at Jim–”didn’t do his job properly and let her in. He should be fired.” Marcus looks angry and starts to speak, but Becki barrels on. “God knows what she said to him. She’s completely unstable. We’ve had to talk about getting a restraining order. But I’m sure you’ll protect me, now that you’re here and I’ve helped you divert national embarrassment.” She smiles sweetly at Marcus, batting her eyes. Darlene pats her arm, lifting her head proudly as she shoots me a triumphant little sneer. My stomach twists in anxiety – what if Marcus buys their story? But Marcus shakes his head in disbelief, then moves to put a warm, strong arm around my waist. He tucks me protectively into his side and stares frostily at Becki and Darlene. “I’m sorry, but are you talking about my date?”

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My name was Oliver Pettyfer. My wife, Fiona Jameson, was a surgeon. Throughout her career, she had saved countless lives. But the one person she couldn’t save was me. Nathan Aniston, her true love, and I were in a car accident together. She rushed to his side first. It wasn’t until three months after my death that she realized the person frequently chatting with her on WhatsApp wasn’t me, and she panicked. After my death, bound by unfinished destiny, I lingered on as a spirit, quietly staying by Fiona’s side. The hospital corridors echoed with the sounds of screams and cries. Just an hour ago, a severe multi-vehicle collision had occurred on the city’s bridge; the scene was unbearable. Every doctor in the city, including Fiona, was called in to help. I lay in a pool of blood, struggling to suppress the metallic taste rising in my throat. When I saw Fiona, I felt a surge of relief. But the next moment, I felt as if I had plunged into an icy abyss. Fiona saw me lying there, yet she stepped over me and rushed to Nathan’s side. She lifted him, her face filled with concern and urgency I had never seen before. I was covered in blood, and I tried to tell her I was hurt, but as I opened my mouth, a torrent of blood gushed out. By the time I could lift my head again, Fiona had already placed Nathan in the ambulance. I didn’t want to die alone, so I mustered all my strength and called out her name, “Fiona…” Fiona turned back and looked at me coldly. “You just vomited some blood. Nathan has multiple fractures; he needs me more than you do. I know what you’re going to say, but you wait here. Someone else will come to help you.” With that, she slammed the ambulance door shut and disappeared from my sight with Nathan. Fiona didn’t know that a piece of rebar was embedded in my back, piercing through my body. I was about to die. If she had just looked closely, she would have seen it, but her attention was entirely on Nathan. But none of that mattered anymore. After all, what was left to fight for when one was about to die? The hospital was overflowing with patients, and there weren’t enough beds to go around. After finishing Nathan’s surgery, Fiona had no choice but to place him on a temporary bed in the hallway.

  Wrapped in bandages and looking pale and drained, Nathan tugged at Fiona’s heartstrings. In a hoarse voice, Nathan said, “I’m fine now. You should go check on Oliver; he sounded pretty bad too…” Fiona frowned sharply at the mention of my name. “What does it matter about that jealous, petty guy? Your health is what’s important right now.” Nathan fell silent for a moment. Then, as if reflecting on something significant, he continued, “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t come back, you two wouldn’t be in such a mess that it’s come to the brink of a divorce.” That was true. Just before the accident, Fiona and I were in heated discussions about our looming separation. Our marriage had been an arrangement between families, while Nathan was her university classmate. I knew all along that Fiona didn’t like me, but under the pressure from our families, we went through with it anyway. I tried everything to be the husband she deserved, hoping that one day I could take Nathan’s place in her heart. Then Nathan returned from abroad, shattering my hopes. Upon his return, he called Fiona first. It changed everything. Despite the fact that I was the one who married her, Fiona spent most of her time with Nathan. We had an explosive argument just before my accident. After I lost my cool, she stormed off. Moments later, I got a call from Nathan asking to meet. I never imagined I would crash my car on the way to see him—and that it would cost me my life. Shaking off those thoughts, I watched as Fiona tucked the blanket around Nathan, speaking softly, “It’s not your fault. Oliver and I were never on the same page. He’s too suspicious and overly sensitive; he doesn’t even take the time to understand me. Our divorce was mutual, so don’t blame yourself.” I wore a wry smile, thinking, “So, this is how she views me.” Just then, a frazzled nurse rushed over, holding my ID. “Dr. Jameson, your husband, Oliver, he…” Fiona’s expression instantly turned cold. “So he wants me to go see him? Please. He just coughed up a little blood. A grown man can handle that; he’s probably just faking to get some sympathy. Tell him I’m going through with the divorce and that he needs to stop bothering me.” Without allowing the nurse to respond, Fiona spun on her heel and walked away briskly, a wave of indignation trailing behind her. I remembered a time when I had a fever so high I barely knew what was happening. I’d pleaded with her to stay by my side. When I finally came to, she had slapped me hard and said, “Today was Nathan’s birthday! You made me break my promise to spend it with him just because you were sick. I know you did this on purpose, Oliver!” From that moment on, her disdain for me only deepened. Now, once again, she believed I was merely playing the sympathy card and would no longer trust me.

  My spirit followed Fiona as she left the hospital corridor. Just outside, she paused, pulling out her phone. After hesitating for a while, typing, and deleting, Fiona finally settled on one simple word: [Divorce.] Then she hit send. Fiona didn’t know I was gone and wouldn’t be able to respond to her message. But to my surprise, just as her message was sent, I found “myself” replying on the other end: [So you want a divorce because of Nathan, huh? Fine by me. I’ll sign whatever you want; you and this little charmer deserve each other!] At the sight of that message, Fiona’s anger boiled over, and she smashed her phone into pieces. “You’d better be serious about wanting a divorce! Don’t come crying to me later about regretting it!” As my spirit hovered nearby, I couldn’t help but feel bewildered. “Wait, I’m dead! How can I still respond to Fiona’s messages?” It felt like the person was deliberately imitating my tone down to the same punctuation. Before I could process it, Fiona picked up the shattered pieces of her phone from the floor and turned to leave. A week later, Nathan was discharged from the hospital. Fiona brought him back to our home. Nathan, perched in a wheelchair, looked around nervously and asked, “Are you sure Oliver won’t be upset about me being here?” Fiona shrugged off his concern. “Let him be. He has no right to question who I bring home, especially since he’s already agreed to the divorce.” Nathan’s surprise was palpable. “I can’t believe Oliver, who loves you so much, would actually agree to this. Did he say it himself?” With a soft “Hmm,” Fiona confirmed it. My spirit floated above them. I was desperate to shout that I was no longer alive and that I had never sent that message about the divorce. Yet whether I screamed or shouted, she couldn’t hear me. Fiona seemed determined to avoid mentioning my name. She changed the subject, saying, “You sit tight. I’ll get you a glass of water.” As she walked away, I noticed Nathan making an attempt to stand from his wheelchair. Nathan was unsteady, and just as he managed to get on his feet, his legs buckled, threatening to send him crashing to the floor. Fiona, seeing his struggle, tossed the water cup aside and rushed to catch him. The two of them tumbled down, Nathan landing heavily on top of Fiona, their bodies tangled in an intimate embrace. Looking deep into her eyes, Nathan said, “I’ve always held back because of Oliver, but now that you two are getting divorced, I feel free. Fiona, I like you—can we start over?” Fiona was clearly moved by his heartfelt declaration. She nodded, tears of joy welling in her eyes. Moments later, Nathan leaned in and kissed her, and she didn’t hesitate to respond with the same fervor. I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. After all those years of marriage, Fiona had always kept me at a distance, never allowing me even the slightest touch, let alone anything more intimate. I had always respected her wishes and never forced myself on her. But now, the woman I had cared for so deeply was wrapped up in another man’s arms, responding to his every advance with a passion I had never witnessed from her. I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to leave this nightmare behind, but it was as if some invisible force held me captive, making me a helpless witness to this steamy scene. The sounds of their pleasure pierced through my ears as they somehow ended up rolling onto the bed, right in front of our wedding photos, crossing boundaries I had never imagined they would. I clamped my hands over my ears, trying to block out the reality unfolding before me. Time stretched on, feeling like an eternity, until finally, an hour had passed, and they drew their intimate encounter to a close. I watched coldly as the two of them lay in bed, having just finished their tryst. Fiona got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. After she cleaned herself up, she decided to find a fresh pair of pajamas. But when Fiona opened the cupboard, she couldn’t find a single clean set. I used to take care of all the household chores—cleaning the clothes and preparing meals. I’d pampered her like a princess, so Fiona never had to worry about a thing. But now, nearly a week since my death, our once-tidy home had become a filthy mess. Irritated, she picked up the scattered clothes from the floor and dumped them into the washing machine, only to realize she had no idea how to use it. The kettle was empty, and the electric pot had no water. When Fiona opened the fridge, a nauseating odor of rotting vegetables hit her. Fiona stared at the chaos before her; her brow furrowed deeply. She thought about calling me but soon remembered her phone was broken and she hadn’t replaced it yet. With a bitter laugh, she muttered, “Oliver, did you really think all your efforts would keep me from moving on? How ridiculous!” With no other option and her stomach growling, Fiona reluctantly ordered takeout. ***** The next day, Fiona bought a new phone. Once she set it up and logged into WhatsApp, she noticed a plethora of unread messages. Among them were a few of my friends. One message read: [Do you know where Oliver is? It’s been a week since he went missing. I invited him to dinner, but he hasn’t shown up.] Fiona frowned but didn’t reply. Instead, she browsed through my status updates. Normally, I was someone who loved sharing snippets of my life, yet I hadn’t posted anything in almost a week. Her frown deepened further, and after a moment of contemplation, she decided to message me again. [Oliver, weren’t you the one who wanted a divorce? We can go get the paperwork in a few days!] The other side replied quickly: [Ha, you’re really eager to be with Nathan, huh? I’ll agree to the divorce, but you owe me for all those years of emotional damage.] [After all these years of marriage, you barely even let me touch you, and you had the nerve to cheat on me with Nathan. You owe me at least three million dollars in damages!] Fiona seethed as she read the message from the other side of my WhatsApp. Her chest heaved with anger. [Oliver, I can’t believe I ever trusted you!] Then, just like that, she transferred 500 thousand dollars to the other end of the chat. Fiona added, [I only have this much! Take it or leave it! See you in court in three days!] With that, she blocked me. Perhaps in her fury, she muttered one last insult, “Oliver, why don’t you just go die!” I thought, “Well, as you wished, Fiona, I really am dead.” If only she had paid a little more attention, she might have realized the truth of my death, but her heart was completely focused on Nathan. Fiona had been swamped with work, but she had taken three months off just to care for Nathan. Three months passed. Fiona finally returned to her job at the hospital. During the monthly staff meeting, the hospital administration brought up the tragic accident that had occurred on the cross-river bridge last month. They mentioned that 17 people had been critically injured and, sadly, one person had lost his life. The young nurse who had taken my ID to find Fiona sat next to her. She tugged at Fiona’s sleeve and leaned in. “Dr. Jameson, do you know who the single fatality from that accident was?” Fiona shook her head. “Actually, it was…” the nurse whispered.

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After Rebirth, the Real Daughter of a Rich Man Went Crazy In the moment my adoptive mother was about to slice me open, the wealthiest man in the land finally tracked me down. He was my biological father. He wept, begging me to return and promising recompense. I feigned a cringe, asking, “My foster mother said I could be sold to fund my brother’s education abroad. “Are you taking me away so that my sister can go abroad, too? “But I believe I’m worth more as a whole person.” My biological father was so distraught he contemplated killing my adoptive parents. I laughed it off. But the person I truly wished to eliminate was the one pretending to be me.

While we were in the midst of applying for our marriage license, Bryce Clark, my boyfriend of three years, received news that his neighbor, Patricia Adams, was about to give birth. Without any hesitation, he left me behind. “Patricia is about to give birth. I must take care of her. Let’s get the license another day.”

Under my mother’s strict discipline, I was successfully admitted to Harvel University. On the day the results were announced, everyone praised my mother’s educational methods, believing she would enjoy a happy life. A reporter came to interview her, and she shared her educational experiences without any humility. She said, “Only through strict discipline can a child achieve success.” The whole city was celebrating for me. However, I left a farewell letter and stood on the rooftop. I thought, “Mom, you wanted me to go to Harvel University, and I got accepted. Please let me go.” My mother held a doctorate, and my father had a master’s degree from a prestigious university. After I was born, I could speak at seven months and walk at eight months. Everyone praised me as a naturally smart child, saying that with proper nurturing, I would surely get into Harvel University. My mother thought the same. She even used Harvel as my name, naming me Harvel Walsh. She was very dedicated to this goal. By the time I was three, I still couldn’t write well. I went to kindergarten during the day and came home at night to recite past presidential speeches. While my peers played freely in the yard, I envied them, always peering longingly through the window. When my mother noticed, she had the curtains drawn, cutting off my desire to see the outside world completely. She would hit my palms with a stick, her face full of disdain. “These kids are already losing at the starting line and will achieve nothing great in the future. You cannot be led astray by them.” Relatives advised my mother to have another child, saying such good genes shouldn’t be wasted. But my mother firmly refused. “All my time and energy must be devoted to Harvel. She is meant to go to Harvel University; she cannot be distracted.” Then she turned to me and said, “I’ve sacrificed so much and pinned all my hopes on you. You must succeed in your application.” When I started elementary school, my mother’s methods became even stricter. I had to complete extra exercises she assigned until midnight, barely getting enough sleep. I often fell asleep over my work. My mother would stand behind me and wake me with a thin stick. “All you do is sleep. You’re not allowed to sleep until these exercises are finished.” In pain, I would tear up but dared not resist. Over time, my mental state deteriorated. Relatives couldn’t bear to watch anymore and said my mother was stifling my natural talent and would drive me crazy sooner or later. My mother was furious, accusing them of being jealous of her genius daughter. Relatives told my father, who worked far away, but he was powerless to intervene. He could only advise relatives to mind their own business. Later, the relatives stopped visiting, saying our family was crazy and anyone who got involved would be unlucky. But my mother was very satisfied with the situation. Every day, she stood behind me with a stick, watching me do my exercises. “Now that no one dares to disturb you, let’s see how you can slack off.” The stack of exercise books beside my desk kept growing higher. I felt exhausted. After graduating from elementary school, I entered the best junior high school in the city. In this new environment, no one knew me. Because of that, I made my first friend. Her name was Melinda Acosta, and she was my deskmate. Melinda was cheerful and struck up a conversation with me right away, sharing her favorite snacks. I was thrilled and reluctant to eat the snacks she gave me, keeping them hidden in my backpack. After school, I eagerly gave the snacks to my mother and told her about my first friend. But my mother turned around and threw the snacks into the trash, scolding me for being distracted by trivial things. I lowered my head and dared not speak further. She then asked about the girl’s grades. I answered honestly, “She’s at the bottom of the class.” My mother’s expression darkened, and she said nothing more. The next day, Melinda refused to play with me and even asked the teacher for a seat change. I was confused and went to ask her. Melinda shoved me hard and shouted, “Your mom called my house and said that a poor student like me doesn’t deserve to be friends with you and will only drag you down!” The whole class looked over, whispering among themselves. “What’s so great about good grades that you look down on others?” “Is her mom crazy? What’s wrong with having poor grades? How can she insult others?” I was so upset that tears streamed down my face as I walked away silently. Returning to my seat, I found that the desk and chair next to me were gone. The homeroom teacher awkwardly told me, “Your mother insisted that you sit alone, saying that other students would affect your studies.” I kept my head down and said I understood. From that day on, no one dared to come near me, afraid of being warned by my mother for talking to me. I ate alone every day, attended classes alone, and went home alone. Every night, I did exercises until late into the night. In every exam, I was at the top of the grade. My mother proudly proclaimed it everywhere. She said her daughter was indeed born to go to Harvel University. I bitterly thought, “Is this talent?” I touched the thick calluses on my hands. They were the marks left by countless exercises. Later, I entered the top high school in the province with the highest score in the city. I broke the record for the highest score ever and was awarded ten thousand dollars. My mother gleefully collected the money. Many of her colleagues came to ask her for advice on how to raise such an outstanding child. My mother called each one to share her experience. “I think it’s still about talent. Both my husband and I graduated from prestigious universities, so how could our child be any worse? “If there’s no talent, then it’s all about effort. My Harvel does ten worksheets a day without fail. “No talent and no effort? Then use punishment. Discipline produces devoted children and talented ones.” She posted a video on her Twitter account. The title was [Strict Mothers Are Good Mothers] In the video, when I got a question wrong, she hit my back with a stick. The post was shared by her colleagues and unexpectedly made the front page of a small but prominent newspaper’s website. The headline was: [Will Children Raised by Strict Mothers Become Successful or Rebel?] My mother firmly commented: [Of course they will become successful. Harvel has never defied me.] But soon, my actions completely embarrassed her.

At the top high school in the province, I was surrounded by classmates who were both intelligent and hardworking. I found it increasingly difficult to keep up with my studies. In the first monthly exam, my grades plummeted—I fell to 30th place in the year. My mother couldn’t accept this. She stormed into the school and caused a huge scene. She insisted there must have been a mistake in the grading process and demanded a recheck. “Harvel has been a top student all her life. How could she possibly rank so low? You must have taken bribes and deliberately marked her down!” The teachers were frustrated but helpless. I felt incredibly embarrassed and tried to tug at my mother’s sleeve, hoping she would leave. But she slapped me hard across the face, her expression twisted with rage. “Harvel, you’d better pray they really made a mistake, or you’ll be in big trouble!” I clutched my face and retreated to a corner. The teachers tried to persuade her, saying that no matter what, she shouldn’t lay hands on a child. But my mother wouldn’t listen. She was adamant about the recheck. Unable to stop her, the teachers had to call in the principal. The principal asked the teachers to pull out my exam papers and regrade them right in front of her. The results were the same. My mother’s face turned dark. Without a word, she dragged me home roughly, without even asking for leave. Back home, in that study with the sealed-off windows, I endured a beating worse than ever before. “Harvel, is this how you repay me? You think I can’t control you anymore? If you keep scoring this low, how do you expect to get into Harvel University?” I curled up in the corner, shutting my eyes against the pain. All the wounds were on my back; when I returned to school, no one would see them. I had become infamous at school. Everyone was talking about how my mother had made a scene. But I had grown numb to it. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. The teachers were concerned and subtly asked if I needed help. I shook my head and forced a smile. I knew no one could help me. For the first time, I skipped class and wandered to the pond behind the school. The pond was filled with thick lotus leaves, and the blooming lotuses were beautiful and mesmerizing. I stood there, lost in thought, and a dangerous idea flashed through my mind. I thought, “If I jump in, no one will find me. It would be a way to end all this suffering.” I didn’t even want my mother to have my body. I pressed my lips together and moved closer to the railing. “Woof… woof…” I had one foot over the railing when I suddenly heard a faint bark from the bushes nearby. I stopped and slowly pulled my leg back. I thought, “I should take a look. One last look.” I never had a childhood—only endless practice papers day and night. When I was seven, I dared to ask my mother if we could get a cat or a dog. But she coldly refused. To her, anything that could tempt me was a devil luring me to stray from my path. It wasn’t that I particularly liked cats or dogs—I just wanted to feel the presence of something alive. I just wanted to feel that I was still alive. I walked in the direction of the sound. As I got closer, I saw a boy crouching in the bushes. He was focused on feeding a small dog with a piece of sausage. I recognized him. He was Spencer Benton. He was the second-highest scorer in the recent monthly exams. His photo was on the school’s honor roll. Noticing my presence, he looked up and offered me the remaining half of the sausage with a gentle smile. “Do you want to feed it?” I pressed my lips together, silently took the sausage, and fed it to the little dog. The puppy ate eagerly, occasionally licking my fingers with its tongue. The sensation was strange and new. I was surprised by the feeling and found myself smiling for the first time in a long while. After feeding it the rest of the sausage, I was still reluctant to let go of the moment. “You’ve had your fill for today. No more being greedy.” Spencer gently stroked the puppy’s fur. His voice was soft and soothing. I was a bit surprised and asked quietly, “Do good students skip classes too?” Spencer chuckled and glanced at me. “Didn’t you skip class too?” I bit my lip and instinctively lowered my head. It was then that I noticed the faint white scars on the inside of his wrist. “You…” I instantly understood why he was wearing long sleeves in the summer. I looked at him in shock. Spencer seemed to notice my gaze. He tugged at his sleeve, hiding his exposed wrist. He continued stroking the dog, his eyes downcast. “Her name is Bonbon. Isn’t she cute?” “Bonbon was born to a stray dog here on campus. Her mom was beaten to death. She’s all alone, so I come by every day to feed her.” While he spoke, I sat down beside him. No one had ever shared anything personal with me before, so I listened with keen interest. Then, suddenly, Spencer fell silent. I looked at him in confusion. “To be honest, I saw you thinking about ending your life earlier, so I purposely made Bonbon bark. I bet you’d have something to hold on to.” He lifted his eyes, a faint, pained smile on his pale face. “And I was right. You came back on your own.” “Because we’re the same.” I froze, stunned. Maybe it was because it was the first time I had met someone in the same situation. We found so much in common. He told me about his family. He had a twin brother who was a genius. His brother had won numerous national awards and had already been admitted to a prestigious university. As his twin, Spencer had grown up constantly being compared to him. Without his brother’s high intelligence, Spencer had to work a hundred times harder to make up for it. But he could never quite measure up. I looked at him earnestly. “But you’re already very good.” Spencer gave a bitter smile. “If only they thought like you.” By “they,” he meant his parents. I fell silent, feeling unqualified to comfort him. Spencer didn’t seem to mind. He picked up Bonbon and placed her in her little nest. Before leaving, he extended an invitation. “Do you want to come by tomorrow to feed Bonbon together?” I nodded eagerly, feeling a secret surge of joy. I felt that this place had become a secret paradise, just for the two of us. On my way back to class, my steps felt lighter, and it seemed like even the breeze smelled sweet. But as soon as I reached the classroom, my smile froze. My mother was standing right outside the door, staring at me with cold, unforgiving eyes.

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