Category: English

My husband just bought a new car, saying it would be safer for picking up me and our daughter from now on. Today there was a torrential downpour, so I opened the car company’s app, wanting to turn on the air conditioning for him in advance. But the location wasn’t at his office at all—it was at the City Maternity Hospital. I clicked on the vehicle status and froze. The passenger seat memory had been adjusted to “pregnant woman recline mode.” The rear entertainment screen was playing “Prenatal Music Collection.” And my daughter was standing at the elementary school entrance with a broken umbrella, waiting for him to pick her up. I silently saved the driving route and called an Uber for my daughter. When I got home, my daughter had already finished dinner and was doing homework. The Uber I called arrived half an hour before Brooks did. When he came through the door, he was soaked through, looking exhausted. “Traffic was insane out there. This rain is unreal.” He complained while changing his shoes. “Did you pick up Bonnie?” “Yeah, I called a car for her,” I said flatly. He paused, then put on a guilty expression. “Ah, that’s my fault. The office had a last-minute meeting I couldn’t get out of. Sorry you and the kid had to deal with that.” He walked over to hug me. I stepped aside and handed him a dry towel. “Go take a shower. Don’t catch a cold.” He didn’t notice anything unusual about me and headed to the bathroom with the towel. I picked up his phone. Face recognition unlocked it instantly. At the top were messages from me, our daughter’s class group chat, and the company group. Scrolling down, everything was work-related. I opened his photo album. The recently deleted folder was empty. He was careful, but the car wasn’t. I opened my phone and clicked on the car app. In the vehicle data, there was an energy consumption log. Every trip’s starting point, destination, duration, and power consumption were crystal clear. At 3 PM, departure from his office, destination City Maternity Hospital, stop duration one hour and twenty minutes. Then, departure from the maternity hospital, destination a residential complex I’d never been to. Golden Sky, one of the most upscale developments in the city, twelve thousand dollars per square foot. The car was still parked there. So how did he get home? I zoomed in on the map. Right next to Golden Sky was a subway station. The sound of running water in the bathroom stopped. Brooks came out wrapped in a bathrobe, his hair still dripping. “Honey, come help me dry my hair.” He smiled at me. I walked over and picked up the hairdryer. The warm air blew through his hair and across the skin of his neck. There was a long hair there—not mine. My hair was long, straight, and black. This one was brown and wavy. I didn’t move it. After drying his hair, he went to the study to work overtime, satisfied. I returned to the bedroom and closed the door. I opened our joint bank account. On the 15th of this month, there was a fifty-thousand-dollar withdrawal. Description: Sister’s loan. Brooks was an only child. Where did he get a sister? I scrolled back. Last month on the 15th, fifty thousand. The month before that on the 15th, fifty thousand. This “sister’s loan” had been going on for half a year. Every month, right on schedule. Six months, three hundred thousand dollars. Exactly the price of that car. My hands felt cold. I closed the banking app. I opened Brooks’s Twitter. Three months ago, he’d posted something. “My little sister’s all grown up, coming to the big city to make it. Gotta take good care of her.” The attached photo showed a girl’s silhouette standing at an airport exit, wearing a white dress, pulling a pink suitcase. At the time, I’d even commented below: “Your sister looks beautiful, when are you bringing her home to visit?” He’d replied: “She just got here, she’s shy. I’ll bring her over once she’s settled in.” Looking back now, this was probably that sister. A sister who needed him to drive a three-hundred-thousand-dollar car, adjust it to pregnant woman mode, play prenatal music, and take her for prenatal checkups at the maternity hospital.

The next day, I took half a day off. I didn’t go to Golden Sky. I knew he wouldn’t hide that woman in such an obvious place. Golden Sky was most likely rented or bought by him for convenient meetings. I went to Brooks’s company. The company we’d founded together. Although I was basically semi-retired now, the receptionist and veteran employees still recognized me. “Lester’s here.” “Lester, what brings you in today?” I smiled and nodded in response. I went straight to the finance office. The CFO was someone I’d personally hired. “Betty, I need a favor.” I gave her the name and passport information for Brooks’s “sister.” I’d found this information from the bank transfer records. Payee: Marta. “Help me check if this person has any business dealings with our company, or if she’s related to any employee who submitted expense reimbursements.” Betty was smart. She didn’t ask any questions, just nodded. “Lester, give me a moment.” Half an hour later, Betty placed a file in front of me. “Lester, this Marta interned in our design department for three months last year.” “She didn’t stay after the internship?” Betty shook her head. “At the time, her direct supervisor’s evaluation was that her abilities were mediocre and her attitude flighty. So she wasn’t offered a permanent position.” “Who was her direct supervisor?” “Mark, the design department manager.” I picked up my phone and called Mark directly. I arranged to meet him at the coffee shop downstairs from the office. When Mark saw me, he seemed nervous. “Lester, you wanted to see me?” “Mark, relax. I just want to ask you something. Last year, did you have an intern named Marta?” Mark’s expression immediately became somewhat strange. “Yes… there was someone like that.” “Why wasn’t she given a permanent position?” Mark hesitated, then lowered his voice. “Lester, about this… I wasn’t planning to say anything. This Marta, during her internship, her mind wasn’t on her work at all. Every day she’d dress up to the nines and run to Brooks’s office.” My heart sank. “Brooks said she was a child of some distant relatives, asked me to take care of her. But she… the designs she produced were just sloppy. I called her out on it twice, and she threw the files on my desk, saying I didn’t appreciate them.” Mark sighed. “Then one time, I personally saw… her getting out of Brooks’s car, and on her neck… there were lipstick marks.” The coffee shop’s air conditioning was strong, but I felt like I couldn’t breathe. “Who else knows about this?” “Just a few of us old-timers in the department. Everyone kept quiet out of respect for Brooks. Later when she didn’t get the permanent position, we all thought the matter was over.” Over? No, it had just continued in a more covert way. From company intern to “shy little sister.” I thanked Mark and went back to the office. Betty was still waiting for me. She handed me another file. “Lester, I also checked Brooks’s personal expense reimbursements from the past six months. There are a few that I found… odd.” I took it. One was a five-star hotel dining receipt for thirty-eight thousand dollars. Reason: Important client entertainment. But the receipt date was our daughter’s birthday. That day, Brooks told me a client had a last-minute appointment, he had to entertain them, and came home very late. Our daughter waited for him to cut the cake until she fell asleep. The second one was a purchase record from the Hermès boutique, eighty-six thousand dollars. Reimbursement category: Client gifts. The third was a deposit receipt from an upscale maternity center next to Golden Sky, fifty thousand dollars. Reimbursement category: Company team-building venue reservation. I looked at that maternity center receipt. The customer signature was in Brooks’s handwriting. I gripped the papers in my hand. The edges of the paper dug painfully into my palm. Betty looked at me, concern in her eyes. “Lester, are you…” “I’m fine.” I stood up. “Betty, thank you for today. Please keep this completely confidential.” “You have my word.” I walked out of the office building. The sunlight was blinding. I suddenly remembered that when I got married, I never bought any Hermès. Brooks said those things were an intelligence tax, that the money would be better spent on solid investments. I believed him. I saved money for him, for this family. He took the money we earned together and paid that “intelligence tax” for another woman. Using the company’s name, no less.

I didn’t go home. I took a cab to Golden Sky. The security at the upscale complex was tight. I couldn’t get in. I sat down at a coffee shop across from the complex entrance and ordered an iced Americano. Facing the main gate directly. At 4 PM, a white Porsche Panamera drove into the complex. The driver was a young woman, with big waves in her hair and exquisite makeup. I recognized her—the silhouette of Brooks’s “sister” from his social media. Marta. She was pregnant, her belly already quite prominent, probably six or seven months along. She parked the car, carried several luxury brand shopping bags, and walked into the building entrance with an elegant posture. That Porsche, market price over a million dollars. Brooks’s “sister,” an intern with mediocre abilities and a flighty attitude, driving a million-dollar luxury car, living in a multimillion-dollar mansion. Who would believe it? I sat there until dark. At 7:30, Brooks’s car arrived. He got out, carrying a thermos container. It was the chicken soup I’d prepared for him this morning. He said he’d be working late with the team tonight, asked me to make extra so he could take it to the office for everyone. Now, that thermos had appeared at Golden Sky. He swiped the access card expertly and walked into the building. A few minutes later, a window on the 18th floor lit up. I looked at that window. My phone rang. It was Brooks. “Honey, just finished the meeting, I’m exhausted. What are you doing at home?” His voice carried a hint of laughter, sounding like he was in a good mood. “Getting ready for bed.” “So early? Where’s Bonnie?” “Finished her homework, watching TV.” “Mm, I’ll probably be home late tonight, still have some project details to hammer out. You and Bonnie go to bed early, don’t wait up for me.” “Okay.” I hung up. I looked at the lights on the 18th floor. His project, his team, were all behind that window. I took out my phone and started searching for information on Marta. Her social media name was “Princess Marta,” very fitting for her image. The account was private, but the profile picture wasn’t locked—it was a selfie. The background showed a yacht, sea breeze blowing through her long hair, her smile radiant. Around her neck was a necklace, a Bvlgari charity edition. I had one too. Two years ago on our wedding anniversary, I’d dragged Brooks to buy it. At the time, he said the chain was too thin and small, terrible value. I said it was a gift for our first wedding anniversary, the meaning was different. He couldn’t argue with me, so he bought it. Now, an identical necklace hung around Marta’s neck. I continued scrolling through her profile. Although the content was private, the likes list was public. I saw a familiar avatar—Brooks’s alternate account. He’d told me this account was for gaming, with only a few people on the friends list. He’d liked every single one of Marta’s posts. Following the trail, I clicked into his alternate account’s profile. The photo album was locked, but I could see the cover photo. Two hands, a man’s hand and a woman’s hand. Fingers intertwined, the woman’s hand wearing a huge diamond ring, the size of a pigeon egg. The background was the Eiffel Tower. Date taken: October last year. Last October, Brooks said he was going on a two-week business trip to Europe to research the market. I’d specifically bought him a thick coat, reminding him it was cold there and to dress warmly. Turns out, his “market research” was taking Marta to Paris to buy a diamond ring. I opened Marta’s other social media platform. This account was public, mostly photos of quiet beautiful moments and inspirational quotes. One post from six months ago stood out. “The arrival of new life is heaven’s best gift. Thank you, husband, for giving me a home.” The attached images showed an ultrasound report. And a pregnancy test with two red lines. The first comment was from Brooks’s gaming alternate account. He’d commented two words: “My love.” Followed by a heart emoji. I stared at his comment. He had two wives. One was me—who’d built the company with him from nothing, bore and raised his child, stayed home cooking and keeping house. The other was Marta—young and beautiful, able to satisfy all his vanity, carrying his “son.” I closed my phone. The iced Americano had melted into water. Not cold at all anymore.

The next few days. Picking up my daughter, cooking, handling household chores. Brooks didn’t notice anything unusual. He was even more attentive than before. He’d proactively buy me gifts, saying “you’ve worked hard.” He gave me a lipstick. Probably from some “gifts for your wife that can’t go wrong” list he’d found somewhere. He didn’t know I’d stopped wearing that color long ago. I smiled and accepted it. “Thank you.” He was satisfied. Thinking a three-hundred-dollar lipstick could smooth over all his debts. Behind his back, I met with two people. The first was my college senior Tony, who now ran his own cybersecurity company. I gave him all of Brooks’s and Marta’s social media accounts. “Tony, I need a favor. I need all their chat logs, emails, cloud storage content. Everything.” My senior looked at me. “Lester, this is illegal.” “I know.” I looked at him. “But I’ve been wronged right in my own home. I need to know where I lost.” Tony was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Three days.” The second person was my father. My father was an entrepreneur of the old generation, self-made, lived his whole life upright and honest, hated nothing more than betrayal. Our company was something Brooks and I built together after marriage, but the startup capital came from my father. Five hundred thousand dollars. At the time, Brooks had beaten his chest promising my father: “Don’t worry, I’ll never let Lester down in this lifetime.” My father had designated that five hundred thousand as my premarital property, clearly stating it was a gift to me alone. But when registering the company, Brooks said that husband and wife were one, shares should be 60% his, 40% mine—that way he’d have more face when doing business outside. I loved him then, trusted him. I said okay. Now, he was using that 60% stake to keep a mistress outside, raise an illegitimate child, buy cars and houses. I met my father at the old family estate. I laid everything out. From the car app to the maternity center. My father listened without a word. He smoked half a pack of cigarettes until the study was thick with smoke. Finally, he crushed the cigarette butt in the ashtray. “Lester, what do you want to do?” “Dad, I want to take back everything that belongs to me.” “What about the company?” “The company is something he and I built together. I can’t let him take my life’s work and use it as a dowry for someone else.” My father looked at me, heartache in his eyes. “Alright.” He said just one word. “Dad, I need you to help me contact someone.” “Who?” “Weber.” Weber was my father’s old war buddy who later transferred to the tax system. He was retired now. But I knew his connections and prestige were still intact. My father understood what I meant. “I’ll arrange it.” Three days later, Tony gave me a hard drive. Inside were all of Brooks’s and Marta’s communication records. I spent an entire night reading through everything. Their chats had started two years ago. Back then, Marta was a new intern at the company. Brooks was the high-and-mighty boss. Their conversations were full of the tacit pulling and testing between adults. Marta would send him some suggestive selfies. “Brooks, does this outfit look good today?” Brooks would reply: “Too good, not suitable for the office.” Marta: “Then where is it suitable for?” Brooks: “In my car.” I saw records of their first hotel rendezvous, at a hotel right next to the office. That day, Brooks told me he had to work overtime. I saw the long message Marta sent Brooks after getting pregnant. “Brooks, I’m so scared. I haven’t even graduated yet. I can’t let the child be born without status. Lester is so wonderful, I don’t want to destroy your family. Maybe… I should just abort the baby.” Every word, every sentence talked about “abortion,” but every single word was actually an ultimatum. Brooks’s reply was long. “Marta, don’t be afraid. I’m sorry you have to go through this. Don’t worry, you’re the person I’ve wronged most in this life. She and I have no feelings left, we’re just going through the motions. Once the child is born, I’ll have a showdown with her. The company, the house, the car—everything will belong to us and the child from now on.” I saw the company equity structure diagram he’d sent to Marta. He’d circled his 60% in red pen, with a note beside it: “This will all be my son’s someday.” I saw a draft divorce agreement he’d made, stored in his private cloud. Party A: Brooks. Party B: Lester. Property division: The house we lived in together after marriage goes to me. But I must bear the remaining twenty years of mortgage payments. The eight-year-old BMW Mini in my name goes to me. Custody of our daughter goes to me. He’ll pay three thousand dollars monthly in child support. The company equity, as his premarital investment return, has nothing to do with me. Deposits and investments in his name also have nothing to do with me. He planned to leave me with nothing. He wanted to kick my daughter and me out of the life we’d built together. At the bottom was another note. “Lester has a gentle personality and no opinions of her own. She should sign quickly.” I stared at that line. Gentle personality, no opinions of her own. I put away the hard drive. Then I dialed Weber’s number.

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When Ethan slipped that pink diamond ring onto my finger, it was too small and got forcefully stuck at my knuckle. He just laughed carelessly. “Looks like Chloe’s fingers are thinner after all. It fit her perfectly, dangling so cutely.” He casually twisted the ring on my reddened finger. He told me that this custom engagement ring, originally meant for me, had been worn by his intern, flaunted all over her Instagram for an entire week. “The poor girl hasn’t worked a hard day in her life, so her hands are soft. Her knuckles aren’t as thick as yours.” “She said she wanted to know what it felt like to be proposed to and started crying her eyes out. I couldn’t say no.” Feeling the cold, hard diamond digging into my skin, I looked up at him stiffly. “You let her wear our engagement ring?” His eyes swept coldly over my hands, no longer delicate after years of hard work. “It’s not a big deal. I just thought the delicate pink suited a young girl her age much better.” “If you’re disgusted that someone else wore the ring, you can throw it away. If you’re disgusted by a man someone else slept with…” The corner of his mouth twitched, his tone icy. “…you don’t have to marry me.” “It’s up to you.” Standing in the empty jewelry store, the dazzling diamond on my finger suddenly felt like a needle piercing my flesh, the pain excruciating. “Take it off.” My voice was hoarse as I stared at the ring lodged in my skin. Ethan looked at me as if he’d just heard a joke, raising an eyebrow. “Stella, stop throwing a tantrum. The sales associates are watching.” “It’s your own fault for gaining weight lately, even your fingers got thicker. Who else can you blame?” He didn’t even bother to look at me, staring down at his phone, replying to messages. The screen’s glow reflected on his face, revealing a tender expression he had never shown me. I yanked at the ring with all my might. The skin on my knuckle tore, and blood seeped out. A piercing pain. But I couldn’t feel it. Because the place where my heart was hurt far worse than my finger. “You know this is my engagement ring.” I stared at him intently. “If it’s mine, why did you let Chloe wear it?” Ethan clicked his tongue in annoyance and finally put his phone away. “She’s just an intern, fresh out of college. She’s completely innocent.” “She saw a pretty ring, got curious, and wanted to try it on. What’s the big deal?” “Why are you being so petty, holding a grudge against a girl who just graduated?” He spoke so self-righteously, as if I was the one being unreasonable. “Innocent?” I let out a cold laugh, pulled out my phone, and opened Chloe’s Instagram. In the photo, a pale, delicate hand wore my engagement ring, striking various poses in the sunlight. The caption read: [The boss says only clean hands like mine are worthy of this shade of pink. Some washed-up housewives are only good for scrubbing pots and pans.] Ethan glanced at it, his expression shifting slightly, but he quickly returned to his careless demeanor. “She was just joking. Are you seriously taking that to heart?” “Alright, I have things to do at the company. Take an Uber home.” “Since the ring is on, just leave it on, so you don’t lose it.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked away without a second glance. He didn’t even bother to ask if my hand hurt. Watching his resolute back, I suddenly found it somewhat hilarious. Seven years. I stood by his side as he went from having nothing to being worth over a hundred million. To save money for his startup, I washed our clothes in freezing water during the dead of winter, my hands covered in chilblains. To help him secure investments, I drank with clients until my stomach bled, landing me in the hospital for three days. Whose fault was it that my hands were now rough? Whose fault was it that my knuckles were deformed? And now, he despised these very hands, deeming them unworthy of the engagement ring that symbolized our commitment. He even indulged another woman as she publicly trampled on my dignity. I gave a violent yank. “Hiss—” The ring was forcefully ripped off, taking a chunk of flesh with it. The pink diamond flashed with an eerie light under the store lamps, stained with my blood and the cheap perfume Chloe had left behind. So dirty. I raised my hand and threw the million-dollar diamond ring into the nearby trash can without a shred of hesitation. “You’re right.” “A man someone else slept with is just like a ring someone else wore.” “They’re both trash.” By the time I got home, it was already 10 PM. I pushed open the door to a pitch-black apartment. Ethan wasn’t home yet. Normally, no matter how late it was, I would always leave a light on, waiting for him. But tonight, I didn’t turn on a single light. By the moonlight streaming through the window, I saw a thermos sitting on the dining table. It held the fish soup I had spent four hours simmering that afternoon. Ethan’s stomach had been acting up lately, so I specifically went to the market to buy wild-caught carp, boiling it down until the broth was thick, white, and fragrant. Before I left the house, I texted him, reminding him to drink it. Now, the lid of the thermos was off. Half the soup was gone. I walked over, picked up a spoon, and stirred it. Suddenly, my hand froze. Floating in the soup was a long strand of hair. Chestnut brown, with loose waves. My hair is straight and black. Chloe has chestnut brown hair with loose waves. A wave of intense nausea hit my stomach. Just then, the sound of the key turning in the lock came from the entryway. The lights flicked on, and Ethan walked in. He jumped when he saw me standing in the dark, then frowned deeply. “What are you doing creeping around in the dark without turning the lights on?” He loosened his tie as he kicked off his shoes, reeking of alcohol. On his collar, a faint lipstick smudge was barely visible. I recognized that shade. It was the exact same color Chloe was wearing in her selfie today. “Did you drink the soup?” I pointed at the thermos on the table, my tone frighteningly calm. Ethan paused, his eyes darting away for a second. “Yeah, it was good.” “Just a little bland. Add more salt next time.” He gave a dismissive answer and started heading for the bathroom. “Is that so?” I let out a soft laugh. “Did Chloe think it was bland too?” Ethan stopped dead in his tracks, turned around, his face dark. “Stella, are you ever going to drop this?” “I was just dropping Chloe off on my way back. She was hungry, so I let her have a few sips.” “It’s just a bowl of soup. Do you have to interrogate me like a criminal?” “You never used to be like this.” “You used to be so gentle and understanding. You never picked fights over trivial things.” He looked at me with disappointment, as if I had turned into an unreasonable shrew. Used to be? I used to think you were worth it. Looking at the man in front of me, I felt a sudden, profound sense of unfamiliarity. Where did the Ethan who swore to give me a good life disappear to? “Ethan.” “I spent four hours making that soup.” “I washed my hands until they wrinkled just to get the fish smell out.” “You gave it to another woman, and you have the nerve to complain it’s bland?” Ethan rubbed his temples in annoyance. “Alright, it’s just soup. I’ll have the maid make you ten bowls tomorrow.” “Chloe had an emergency. Her blood sugar dropped, and she almost fainted.” “Saving a life is a good deed. Can’t you show a little compassion?” Low blood sugar? More like a low IQ. “Ding—” Ethan’s phone chimed. He glanced at the screen, and his dark expression instantly softened. It even held a trace of doting fondness. Although he quickly turned off the screen, I still saw it. Sender: Unforgettable Chloe. Message: [Mr. Sterling, thank you for the loving fish soup. My body is warm, and my heart is warm too~] Followed by a shy emoji. I felt nothing but pure irony. My hard work had become a tool for their flirtation. “Who was that?” I asked, knowing the answer. “A work group chat.” Ethan lied without missing a beat. “Something urgent came up at the company. I need to go handle it in the study.” With that, he grabbed his phone, hurried into the study, and locked the door behind him. Leaving me alone with half a thermos of fish soup tainted with another woman’s saliva. I picked up the thermos, walked over to the toilet. And dumped the soup, fish and all, straight in. I flushed. Whoosh— Trash belongs where trash goes. The next day was scheduled for my wedding dress fitting. We had booked this six months in advance. A custom-made piece by a renowned French designer, the only one of its kind in the world. I flew to Paris three times just for this dress, having my measurements taken over and over. It was my dream. Ethan was an hour late. When he finally arrived, Chloe was trailing right behind him. “Chloe said she’s never seen a haute couture wedding dress, so she wanted to come open her eyes.” Ethan explained, his tone so natural, as if bringing your mistress to your wedding dress fitting was the most normal thing in the world. Chloe, wearing a pink cocktail dress and clinging to Ethan’s arm, smiled with absolute, innocent naivety. “Stella, you don’t mind, do you?” “I’m just curious. I’ll just look and leave, I promise I won’t bother you.” She blinked her big eyes, looking entirely harmless. I stared at her arm looped through Ethan’s and said coldly, “I do mind.” “Get out.” The air instantly froze. The sales associates exchanged panicked glances, not daring to breathe. Chloe’s eyes instantly welled up, tears falling on command. “Stella, why are you being so mean…” “I was just envious of your relationship with Mr. Sterling and wanted to soak up some of the good vibes…” “If I made you unhappy, I’ll leave right now…” She turned to go, but Ethan grabbed her arm. “Stella! Are you out of your mind?!” He glared at me furiously. “Chloe is practically a child! Why are you picking on her?” “I brought her here. If anyone’s getting out, it’s me!” What a protective knight in shining armor. I laughed out loud, fueled by pure anger. “Fine. Then take her and get out.” “I’m not trying on this dress.” I turned to leave. “Stop right there!” Ethan lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. “I already paid for it. You will try it on!” “Stop embarrassing me in public!” Without another word, he shoved me into the fitting room. The terrified associates brought the dress in. I took a deep breath, forcing down the rage bubbling inside me. One last time. If this dress still fit, I’d give him one more chance. After all, seven years of history couldn’t be erased in an instant. However, the moment I put the dress on, my heart went completely cold. The zipper wouldn’t close. The waist was a full size too small. The bust was so tight I could barely breathe. This wasn’t my size at all. “What is the meaning of this?” I frowned at the associate. She stammered, avoiding my gaze. “Um… Mr. Sterling called a couple of days ago and said you had lost weight, so he asked us to take it in a bit…” Lost weight? I had actually gained five pounds recently because Ethan was forcing me to take supplements to prepare for pregnancy! “He also said…” The associate glanced nervously at Chloe waiting outside, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He said he wanted to change the design… make it a bit more… youthful.” I stared at my reflection in the mirror. The originally elegant, sophisticated mermaid gown had been transformed into a poofy ballgown. The bodice was now plastered with cheap-looking bows. How was this my wedding dress? This was clearly Chloe’s style! I violently yanked the curtain open. Ethan was sitting on the sofa, feeding Chloe grapes. When he saw me, he froze, then his brow furrowed. “Why are you dressed like that?” “You look like a stuffed sausage.” Chloe covered her mouth, giggling. “Oh my, Stella, did you gain weight?” “Look how tight it is on you, you’re spilling out.” “Mr. Sterling, it seems my taste really doesn’t suit Stella after all.” “I told you, this youthful, girly style only looks good on petite girls.” She stood up, walked over to me, and reached out to touch a bow on the dress. “But the fabric is gorgeous. If I were wearing it…” She shot Ethan a loaded look. And Ethan actually nodded. “True. This style definitely suits Chloe better.” “Stella, you’re older now. You really can’t pull off these pale pink colors.” “Why don’t we just give this to Chloe to use as a bridesmaid dress, and you can pick out a new one.” Boom— The final string holding my sanity together snapped. Give it to her as a bridesmaid dress? My main wedding gown, as her bridesmaid dress? Ethan, just how low are you going to trample on me? I looked at the disgusting pair standing before me, and a wave of pure revulsion washed over me. I ripped the veil off my head and threw it hard onto the floor. “No need.” “I’m not wearing this dress.” “And I’m not going through with this wedding.” Ethan thought I was just throwing a tantrum. “Acting out again?” “Stella, is your menopause starting early?” “Always threatening to break up or cancel the wedding over every little thing. Is it fun for you?” “Hurry up and change. Stop making a fool of yourself in front of outsiders.” He picked up the veil, dusted it off, and tossed it to the sales associate. “Box it up and have it delivered to Ms. Hayes’ apartment.” I didn’t say a word. I turned back into the fitting room and changed back into my own clothes. When I came out, Ethan was already waiting in the car. Chloe was sitting in the passenger seat. That was my designated seat. “Stella, I get carsick easily, so I’m more comfortable up front. You don’t mind, do you?” Chloe poked her head out the window, looking the picture of innocence. I opened the back door and slid in. “I don’t mind.” “I don’t fight over seats reserved for the dead.” Chloe’s face went white, and she immediately turned to Ethan to complain. “Mr. Sterling, listen to Stella…” Ethan glared at me through the rearview mirror. “Stella, watch your mouth.” “Show some class!” I closed my eyes, entirely done with him. The car sped along, arriving at the Sterling family estate. Today was the monthly Sterling family dinner. Both of Ethan’s parents were there. When they saw Chloe walking in behind Ethan, their expressions soured. “Ethan, who is this?” His mother asked. “A new intern at the company, Chloe Hayes.” Ethan introduced her. “She’s working hard all alone in a new city; it’s not easy for her. I brought her over for a home-cooked meal.” “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, I’m Chloe.” Chloe bowed politely, presenting the gifts she had prepared in advance. “I bought these supplements specifically for you. They aren’t expensive, but it’s the thought that counts.” You can’t slap a smiling face. Even though his parents were displeased, they didn’t say anything and let her sit down. During the meal, Chloe went out of her way to flatter them. She poured wine for Ethan’s father, served food to his mother, her mouth as sweet as honey. She had the older couple beaming with delight. Meanwhile, I sat in silence, my mood plummeting. “Stella, don’t just sit there eating. Learn a thing or two from Chloe.” His mother scolded me. “Look at this young girl, so thoughtful and attentive.” “You’re about to marry into the Sterling family, and you’re still so wooden. How are you going to manage a household and raise children?” My grip on my chopsticks tightened. Manage a household and raise children? The Sterling family is a pedestal I have no interest in worshiping at. “Oh, Mrs. Sterling, please don’t be hard on Stella.” Chloe spoke in her sickly-sweet voice. “Stella is a woman of great importance. Unlike me, who only knows how to serve people.” “Oh, Mr. Sterling, I really want some of that shrimp, but I can’t peel it…” She looked at Ethan with puppy-dog eyes, pointing at the plate of braised prawns. Without a second thought, Ethan picked up a prawn, ready to peel it. But Chloe stopped him. “Mr. Sterling, your hands are meant for signing multi-million dollar contracts, not peeling shrimp.” She turned to me, smiling brightly. “Stella, I heard you’re incredibly fast at peeling shrimp. Could you help me out?” Everyone’s eyes fell on me. Ethan looked at me too, issuing a command as if it were the most natural thing in the world: “Stella, peel a few for Chloe.” “She got her nails done and can’t do it.” I looked at Chloe’s fingers, adorned with dazzling, diamond-encrusted acrylics, and then down at my own bare nails. While preparing for pregnancy, I gave up manicures, stopped dyeing my hair, and even switched all my skincare to pregnancy-safe brands. And now, he wanted me to use these hands—hands that had grown rough for his sake—to serve his mistress? “Hurry up, what are you staring at?” Ethan urged. “Don’t be so petty, it’s just peeling a shrimp.” His mother chimed in: “Yes, Stella, you’re the older sister here. What’s wrong with taking care of the younger one?” I took a deep breath and picked up a shrimp. Slowly, I peeled off the shell. The red shrimp oil stained my fingertips. Chloe looked at me smugly, opened her mouth, and waited to be fed. “Thank you, Stella. Ahhh—” Looking at her gaping maw, I suddenly burst out laughing. I laughed so hard tears almost sprang to my eyes. This was the man I had loved for seven years. This was the family I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. This was the love I was willing to sacrifice everything for. What an absolute, total joke!

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I was helping my husband pay off his credit card, and when I logged into his banking app, I discovered something—the balance on his payroll account was over four million dollars. I looked at it three times. Four million, one hundred and seventy thousand. We had been married for three years, and he told me his monthly salary was five thousand. We split the bill for every meal, dividing every expense clearly. I couldn’t even bring myself to buy a $399 coat. I stared at that string of numbers, my fingers turning cold. Arthur, who exactly are you? 1. It was a Wednesday. Arthur was going on a business trip, and before he left, he asked me to pay his credit card bill for him. “You know the password. Send me a screenshot when you’re done.” He sent a text message, complete with a kissing emoji. I said okay. We’d been married for three years, and we always split expenses 50/50. He said his monthly salary was five thousand, and mine was eight thousand. Rent was four thousand: he paid two thousand, and I paid two thousand. Utilities and HOA fees, split down the middle. Meals, split down the middle. He said, “It’s not easy for either of us; splitting it 50/50 is the most fair.” I thought that made sense. Even though my salary was higher, 50/50 was fair. So for three years, I lived very frugally. I ate at the school cafeteria for lunch, twelve dollars a meal. I bought all my clothes online, and if something cost more than two hundred dollars, I’d think about it for three days. Last month, I had my eye on a coat for $399. I tried it on three times but didn’t buy it. I told myself to wait, to buy it when it went on sale for Black Friday. Arthur found out and said, “If you like it, just buy it.” I said, “Never mind, it’s not a necessity.” He smiled. “You really know how to manage a household.” At the time, I felt that even though money was tight, it was nice for the two of us to be working hard together. Until that day, when I opened his banking app. He had given me the password. A long time ago, he asked me to pay his phone bill once. Back then, I just paid the bill and logged out. This time, after paying off his credit card, I got ready to take a screenshot. While taking the screenshot, my finger slipped. I swiped to the “My Account” page. A number popped up on the screen. $4,171,283.67. I thought I misread it. I closed the app and opened it again. $4,171,283.67. Four million, one hundred and seventy thousand. I sat on the sofa, holding my phone, completely motionless. Someone was honking a horn outside the window. A child was crying downstairs. I couldn’t hear any of it. Four million, one hundred and seventy thousand. He said his monthly salary was five thousand. We had split expenses for three years. I couldn’t even bring myself to buy a coat. 2. Before we got married, Arthur told me he worked in sales at a small company. “Base salary is three thousand, with commissions it’s about five thousand.” He dressed very plainly, wearing Uniqlo and Gap. He drove a used Toyota with scratched paint. I never suspected a thing. I’m an elementary school teacher, making eight thousand a month. In this city, a combined income of thirteen thousand for two people isn’t a lot, but it’s enough to get by. When he suggested splitting expenses, I thought it was reasonable. “I don’t make much, but I don’t want you to support me. Splitting it 50/50 is about respect.” Those words warmed my heart. My mom said, “Although this young man doesn’t earn much, he has good character and knows how to respect you.” So I married him. Life after marriage could be summed up in one word: frugal. We never went out to eat. I cooked, and we split the grocery bill. I used a budgeting app and recorded every single transaction meticulously. “Today’s groceries were $23.50. You owe $11.75, and I owe $11.75.” He would say, “I’ll round up and give you $12.” I’d laugh, “Alright, Mr. Generous.” Back then, I thought these little calculations were quite sweet. On my birthday, he sent me a $520 red envelope. “It’s the thought that counts.” I accepted it, thinking it was nice. For his birthday, I bought him a pair of headphones for $899. He said, “Why did you buy something so expensive?” but even as he said it, his eyes were smiling. I didn’t think anything was wrong. Until last winter. My cold turned into pneumonia, and I was hospitalized for a week. The medical bills were over six thousand. I asked if he could front the money for me, since I hadn’t been paid yet. He thought for a moment. “How much will insurance cover?” “Probably about half.” “Then put it through insurance first, and we’ll calculate the rest.” I said okay. On the day I was discharged, he calculated the bill for me. “Insurance covered $3,200, leaving $3,400. You pay $1,700, and I’ll pay $1,700. Fair, right?” I said fair. I was still coughing that day. He drove me home and bought a box of pears. “Drink lots of water, get well soon.” I felt he treated me well. Truly. He was just poor. And there’s nothing shameful about poor people pinching pennies. That’s what I thought at the time. Laughable, isn’t it? Laughable. My mom was diagnosed with diabetes last year. She needed to take medication long-term, costing about eight hundred a month. I told Arthur about this. “I want to send my mom a thousand dollars every month.” He was silent for a moment. “That’s fine, but that’s your family’s business. It should come out of your share.” I said okay. From then on, my disposable income each month became even less. I switched from eating at the school cafeteria to bringing my own lunch. I’d cook extra the night before and bring it to school the next day. My colleagues asked, “Why are you always bringing lunch?” I’d smile, “It’s healthy.” When Arthur found out I was sending money to my mom, he said one thing. “Don’t give too much, your mom still has your dad.” I said, “My dad’s pension is only two thousand.” He said, “Then just do what you can.” Do what you can. At the time, I thought those words were meant well. Thinking about it now, it’s a joke. A man making fifty thousand a month telling his wife, who makes eight thousand, to “do what you can.” But that night, I didn’t explode in anger. I was very calm. Frighteningly calm. I took a screenshot of the balance. Then I logged out of the app. Then I sent Arthur the screenshot of his credit card payment. “It’s paid.” He replied, “Thanks, honey,” with a heart emoji. I looked at that heart. Put down my phone. Went to the kitchen to wash the dishes. Then I sat in the living room and started thinking. Four million, one hundred and seventy thousand. If his monthly salary was five thousand, his savings over three years would be eighteen thousand at most. Even if he lived extremely frugally, twenty thousand at the absolute maximum. Four million, one hundred and seventy thousand. This isn’t something you can save up. This is a completely different level of income. I needed to know more. But I couldn’t let him find out. I couldn’t. 3. The next day, I took half a day off. Not to go to school. To see Mia. Mia was my college roommate and is now a lawyer specializing in family and marriage law. We met at a cafe downstairs from her firm. I showed her the screenshot. She took one look. “Over four million?” “Yes.” “He said his monthly salary was five thousand?” “Yes.” Mia set down her coffee cup. “What do you suspect?” “I don’t know,” I said. “I just feel something isn’t right.” “Do you know where he works?” “Yes. A company called Apex. He said he does building materials sales.” Mia took out her phone and searched. “Apex Industries?” “That should be it.” She scrolled through a few pages. “This company had a revenue of 1.2 billion last year and is preparing to go public.” I was stunned. “1.2 billion?” “What does your husband do at this company?” “He said… sales.” Mia looked at me. “A sales rep making five thousand a month at a company with 1.2 billion in revenue?” She didn’t finish her sentence. I understood. Mia helped me organize my thoughts. “Don’t alert him just yet. You need to do three things right now.” “First, confirm his true income. Check his bank statements. Do you have his password?” “Yes.” “Second, confirm where this money went. Four million is the balance. You need to see how much came in, how much went out, and where it went.” “Third, confirm if he’s having an affair.” I looked at her. “You think he is?” Mia didn’t answer directly. “A balance of four million, one hundred and seventy thousand. If his monthly salary is fifty thousand, that’s eighteen million over three years. Subtracting the four million balance, where did the remaining fourteen million go?” Fourteen million. That number hit me like a ton of bricks. “It could be investments, it could be real estate, it could be something else,” Mia said. “But the fact that he’s hiding it from you is not a good sign.” I nodded. “Find out the truth,” she said. “Find out the truth before you decide what to do.” She looked at me. “Don’t cry, don’t make a scene.” “Find out the truth, and then do what needs to be done.” I said okay. That night, Arthur hadn’t returned from his business trip yet. I sat alone in the living room and opened his banking app. This time, I wasn’t in a rush. I looked through every single transaction. Payroll deposits, arriving every month. Not five thousand. It was four hundred and eighty-seven thousand, three hundred and twenty-one dollars. Every month. On a fixed date, the 15th. Source: Apex Industries LLC. I scrolled down. Expenses. Transaction by transaction. There was a transfer, a fixed amount every month. $15,000. Note: Mortgage. Mortgage. We rent our apartment. What mortgage? I took a screenshot. I kept scrolling. Another series of transfers, varying amounts. Three thousand, five thousand, eight thousand, twenty thousand. Same recipient. Different notes. “Buy whatever you want, baby.” “For you, don’t hold back.” “Happy Valentine’s Day.” I stared at the word “baby.” My hands didn’t shake. My heart didn’t break. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over me, from head to toe. Freezing me to the bone. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt anymore. I kept scrolling. I found a massive transfer. Three million, two hundred thousand. Exactly 3.2 million. It happened a year and a half ago. The note was just two words: “Down payment.” A 3.2 million dollar down payment. While I was eating discounted bread in our rented apartment. He was buying a house for someone else. I finished looking through all the statements. Closed the app. Stood up and went to the bathroom. Splashed water on my face. The person in the mirror had red eyes, but no tears. I looked at myself in the mirror. “Arthur,” I said softly. “You’re finished.”

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At the highway toll station, I stared nervously at my phone. The heart in the box would fail if not transplanted into the patient within half an hour. Driver Bob leaned close to the toll collector’s ear and whispered something. Instantly, the toll collector’s expression changed. “Get out. Open the box. Inspection.” She pointed at the box containing the donated heart, and my own heart skipped a beat. “Sir, I can’t open it. This contains—” Bob cut me off. “That’s a heart. Evidence of her murder.” “No, this was donated by a patient. I’m a doctor.” The toll collector pressed 911, and I was forced to the ground. They seized the box. At this moment, only 29 minutes remained before this heart would fail. The boy in bed 18 had been waiting for this heart for half a year. Today, he’d finally received good news. The director sent me to the neighboring city to retrieve the heart. This heart was originally donated to a patient in the neighboring city. But the previous patient temporarily didn’t meet surgical requirements. The heart was urgently reassigned to our hospital. “Remember, be quick. Otherwise the heart will fail.” I memorized that instruction and followed the ambulance driver to retrieve the heart. Before we even got on the highway, the ambulance suddenly had a blowout. Bob took me onto a tightly sealed minibus. Getting off the highway, I kept my eyes glued to my phone. Fifteen minutes’ drive remained to reach the hospital. That boy would be saved. But Bob leaned close to the toll collector’s ear, saying something in a low voice. The toll collector’s expression changed instantly. She quickly walked to the back window and barked an order at me. “Get out. Open the box. Inspection.” She pointed at the box containing the donated heart, and my heart skipped a beat. I clutched the box tightly, my face showing difficulty. “I can’t open it. This contains—” Bob interrupted me. “See? I told you. She definitely won’t let you open it. That’s a heart. Evidence of her murder.” I stared at him in shock, not understanding why he would say something so absurd. “No, this was donated by a patient. I’m a doctor.” The toll collector heard me admit the box contained a heart. Instantly, she forced me to the ground and seized the box from my arms. “Don’t open it! Once you open it, this heart will be ruined.” The toll collector’s hand paused. I pulled out my always-carried ID. “Doctor from City Central Hospital. Wesker.” Bob snatched the ID. “Fake. How hard is it to get a fake ID? Don’t let her fool you.” “If this murderer escapes with stolen goods from your station, you’ll all be held responsible.” I stared at him intently. “Bob, what are you talking about? You know someone at the hospital is waiting to be saved.” He pointed at the temporarily switched minibus and opened a news link. “See? This type of vehicle is perfect for murder. If you don’t believe me, have the police come investigate.” Only then did I realize why Bob had suddenly insisted on switching vehicles. He’d planned this all along. But right now, saving a life was urgent. I quickly explained. “I really am a doctor from City Hospital. This heart was donated by a patient. It’s about to fail. Can you let me deliver the heart to the hospital, then investigate?” “You believe her? Let her go, and you think she’ll come back?” “She says it was donated? Make her show proof.” The toll collector extended her hand. “Where’s the proof? Show it. If you can prove it’s real, we’ll let you go immediately.” Because it was a temporary reassignment, none of the paperwork was ready yet. “I don’t have the paperwork. The hospital is processing it.” “Once it’s ready, I’ll definitely bring it to you.” Bob looked at the toll collector. “She doesn’t even have proof. Do you believe she’s a doctor, or believe me that she’s a murderer?” I stared at Bob angrily. “Bob, that’s a human life. You’ve seen that boy. When you drove the ambulance, he always greeted you. How dare you falsely accuse me?” His eyes reddened. “Precisely because I’ve seen that boy, I can’t bear to let him die without understanding why. He’s only in his teens. You killed him.” “Bullshit! This is false accusation. It’s illegal. You’ll go to prison.” “Explain quickly. That child can’t wait.” Time passed second by second. I was frantic with anxiety. “I’m not afraid of your threats. For that child’s sake, I can’t let you go.” “Since you refuse to repent, I’ll have to present evidence.”

In the dim footage, it was inside this very vehicle. I looked like a demon, pulling out that heart and placing it in the box. “I secretly filmed this to report her.” The toll collector’s face went deathly pale, her lips trembling. “It’s fake. This video is AI-generated.” “If you’re a doctor, why didn’t you come out in an ambulance?” The toll collector seemed to think of something key, asking me hoarsely. “When we left the hospital, it was an ambulance. He was the driver. But midway the tire blew out, so we temporarily switched vehicles.” “If you don’t believe me, you can call the donation center to ask.” I dialed the donation center’s number. “Hello! May I ask if a patient donated a heart today?” After receiving an affirmative answer, I breathed a sigh of relief. This phone number clearly showed the donation center’s name. Bob couldn’t claim I was faking it. “Which hospital received it?” Bob raised his voice to ask. “City Second People’s Hospital. It was delivered early this morning.” After the brief female voice fell silent, the toll collector compared my ID. “You’re lying. This is a fake ID.” I quickly explained. “Because the paperwork is being processed, the donation center doesn’t know the heart was temporarily reassigned to First People’s Hospital.” I suddenly remembered the box had a serial number. “Ask them the serial number on the box.” One digit at a time was read out. When the last digit was read, the toll collector looked at that blurry number. “The last digit isn’t clear. Is this an 8?” “No, this box didn’t come from us.” After the cold female voice disappeared, I saw the triumphant smile on Bob’s face. When I was receiving the box, I was signing the transfer form. The box was in his hands. He probably tampered with it then. “See? That heart was delivered to Second People’s Hospital. This box is fake. She’s a murderer.” The toll collector’s expression grew worse. “Officer, where are you now? A heart was found in the vehicle. The vehicle is suspected to be a murder scene.” “The person is detained. Please come investigate quickly.” Twenty minutes remained. After twenty minutes passed… That heart capable of saving a life would stop beating. My brain raced, thinking of solutions. At that moment, the phone rang. Seeing the notification “Department Director,” my heart leaped with excitement. Now, there was hope.

“Wesker, where are you? Don’t you know the hospital urgently needs that heart? What’s going on?” Hearing the department director’s questioning voice felt like hearing heavenly music. “Director, I’ve been detained at the highway toll station.” “What? Who dares detain an ambulance?” “There was an accident. When we got on the highway, we weren’t in an ambulance.” “Bob. He’s accusing me of being a murderer.” I quickly explained everything that had happened. The department director raised his voice. “Put the toll station staff on the phone.” “Hello! I’m the director of the transplant department at First People’s Hospital. That heart is urgently needed. We’re processing the paperwork.” “Can you be flexible and let her deliver the heart first? In 18 minutes, the heart will fail.” The toll collector remained silent. “Don’t believe her. It’s a scam. She’s in on it.” Bob roared. “She can’t provide any proof. She can’t prove where this heart came from at all.” The department director recognized Bob’s voice. “Bob, why exactly are you reporting Wesker?” “How about this—you detain Wesker, and you find someone to accompany Bob to deliver the heart to the hospital first.” Only 16 minutes remained. I nodded quickly. “No problem. I’m willing to wait here.” As long as the heart could be delivered to the hospital in time, I was willing to wait here for investigation. “No way. The heart is evidence.” “They murdered for this heart. Don’t fall for it.” Bob desperately blocked them, making the toll collector, who had been wavering, stop in her tracks. “The police are coming soon. As soon as we investigate clearly, I’ll let her go.” “Snap.” The phone was hung up. “This is a human life—two human lives. If it’s delayed, no one can bear that responsibility.” Not wanting this heart to fail, I pleaded desperately. “Or detain both of us, and you find someone to deliver it.” The toll collector stopped paying attention to me, clutching that box tightly. I prayed. I prayed for the police to arrive quickly. When I heard the siren, I glanced at my phone. Thirteen minutes remained. My phone flashed twice. It was a Twitter message from the department director. “Please look. This must be the processed paperwork sent by the hospital.” The toll collector impatiently opened her phone. I snatched it. “This is all the paperwork. Everything’s complete.” “This is the patient’s donation consent form. This is the declaration signed when the Second Hospital patient gave up transplantation. This is our hospital’s heart transfer consent form.” The toll collector carefully examined each document. “Looks correct to me. Maybe we should let her go.” Hearing this, I quickly straightened up, ready to depart at any moment. Though time was tight, with a police car escort we could still make it. “No. All these documents can be forged. Don’t fall for it.” To convince the toll collector, Bob opened ChatGPT and entered commands. Soon, documents identical to those on the phone appeared. “AI is so powerful. It can generate anything instantly. Don’t let her fool you.” Looking at the identical documents, the toll collector grew troubled. “The police are coming anyway. Wait a bit longer. Once the investigation’s done, you can leave.” I watched the approaching police with a heart like dead ashes. These dozen-plus minutes—I could wait, but the heart in that box couldn’t. The boy who’d spent five years in a hospital bed sustained by machines couldn’t wait. “Who made the report?” Bob stepped forward. “Me. I’m reporting her for murder. The box contains a heart. It’s evidence.” “This vehicle is the crime scene.” I stepped forward quickly, explaining at the fastest speed. “Ma’am, after we inspect the vehicle, if we can rule out suspicion, we’ll take you to the hospital.” “Fine! Please hurry. That’s a human life.” Even though Bob had switched vehicles, I’d only been sitting in the car for an hour holding the box. How could it be connected to a murder scene? “Captain, come look at this.” The team leader took one look and kicked me down. “Cuff her. Take her away.”

“Why are you arresting me? Have you made a mistake?” The team leader looked at me. “Made a mistake? See for yourself. The car is full of blood traces.” Looking at the glowing luminol, I was shocked. I stood there stunned. “Impossible. I only sat in the car for a while. How could I have murdered anyone?” “I’m begging you, contact the hospital again.” “Even if you arrest me, can you please deliver the heart to the hospital first?” His brow furrowed tightly. “That child has been waiting for this heart for years. In just over ten minutes, the heart will fail.” I took the opportunity to call the director. “Wesker, I sent you the paperwork. Why haven’t you arrived yet?” “Director, this is Police Captain Brown. Talk to him.” The director’s tone was anxious as he explained to Captain Brown. “Captain Brown, we’ve already sent someone to the toll station. Can you give the heart to our staff first, and have Wesker cooperate with your investigation?” Bob shouted. “The crime scene has been discovered. You want to let her go?” “I told you, she murdered for this heart.” “If you let her go and this heart disappears, you’ll all pay for it.” Bob’s categorical words frightened the police. “I’m sorry. This heart is the most important evidence in this case.” “Until we confirm where the blood in the car came from, this heart cannot leave police supervision.” The director was about to plead when a nurse’s shout came through the background noise. “Director, bed 18’s heart has stopped. Resuscitation needed.” The call ended abruptly. I glanced at the time. Only five minutes remained. No way to reach the hospital now. This heart was wasted. I hoped bed 18 could be resuscitated. In the police car, Bob sat next to me. As the informant, he endlessly fabricated facts that didn’t exist. Ding. Twitter popped up a message. “Wesker, the patient in bed 18 has died. That heart failed. The hospital wrote it off.” My chest felt like it had taken a hammer blow. I struggled to breathe deeply. “Wait at the police station to cooperate with the investigation. The hospital has already sent someone.” Bed 18 was young. He had such a good chance of survival. But because of Bob’s baseless false accusation, he lost his chance at rebirth. I stared at Bob furiously. “Why did you lie? Why did you falsely accuse me?” “Lie? False accusation? The police found massive blood traces in the car.” “You’re the murderer.” “You know best whether I killed anyone. Bed 18 is gone.” Hearing this, his eyes moved rapidly. “He deserved it. That heart didn’t belong to him in the first place.” I didn’t understand. Usually he was kind. He treated bed 18 well. Every day he brought bed 18 fresh things from outside. Today, he’d also volunteered to come with me to retrieve the heart. How could he suddenly report me? How did those inexplicable blood traces appear in the car?

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At the start of the year, our CEO, Mr. Mercer, patted my shoulder heavily. “If we hit $5 million in profit, the core team is splitting 10% of it!” I went home and told my husband, Mark, that I’d be bringing in around $80,000. He was ecstatic, talking about how we could finally make a massive dent in our mortgage. On December 23rd, just before the holidays, my phone buzzed with a direct deposit notification: $2,800.00. I stared at that number for a long time, convinced it was a typo. When Mark asked how much I got, I told him $2,800. The spatula in his hand slipped and clattered onto the kitchen floor. I went straight to Finance to demand the ledger. Linda, our lead accountant, didn’t even look up from her monitors. “The financial reports aren’t for your eyes just because you want to see them. You aren’t a shareholder.” Fine. If that’s how it is, we’ll settle this debt in three months. 1 December 23rd. 3:10 PM. The year-end bonuses just dropped. “Your salary account has received a deposit of $2,800.00.” The open-plan office was dead silent. Everyone had their heads down, staring at their phones. No one said a word. I gripped my phone, my knuckles turning white. That afternoon at the start of the year was still vivid in my mind. Mr. Mercer had slapped the conference table, his voice booming. “Our profit target this year is $5 million! The core team splits a 10% bonus pool. Let’s crush it, everyone!” We had all clapped. Dave, sitting right next to me, had excitedly whispered that we’d be taking home high five-figures easily. We crushed the target. The company pulled in $5.2 million in profit. We over-delivered. And my cut was $2,800. Dave leaned over, keeping his voice low. “Chloe, what did you get?” “$2,800,” I said, looking him dead in the eye. “You?” His expression shifted uncomfortably. His lips twitched. “Yeah… about the same.” He immediately spun back to his monitors, refusing to meet my gaze again. I stood up and marched straight to the Finance department. Linda was at her desk, typing furiously. “Linda.” She didn’t look up. “Need something?” “I want to see the bonus distribution reports.” Her typing stopped. She finally looked up, her eyes evasive. “Take it up with HR.” I turned on my heel, my heart hammering against my ribs. HR was at the end of the hall. Sarah, the HR Manager, was halfway through applying her lipstick. Seeing me march in, she smiled pleasantly and set her mirror down. “Chloe! What’s up?” “The bonus,” I said. “Earlier this year, we were promised 10%…” Sarah cut me off, her tone instantly cooling. “That 10% is based on net profit.” “Net profit?” I stared at her. “Our operating profit was $5.2 million.” Sarah capped her lipstick. “Chloe, do you have a degree in finance?” I didn’t answer. “Net profit is calculated after audits. Executive bonuses are factored into operating costs. The math is flawless.” She picked up her coffee mug, taking a casual sip. “It’s all written clearly in the company bylaws.” I took a deep breath. “Then I want to see the financial reports.” Sarah laughed. It was the kind of laugh that physically grated on my nerves. “The reports aren’t for your eyes just because you want to see them. You aren’t an accountant, and you aren’t a shareholder.” I stared at her for ten full seconds. I couldn’t force a single word out of my throat. Finally, I turned and walked out. The heavy office door clicked shut behind me, sounding like a vault locking. The drive home was suffocatingly quiet. The traffic lights blurred in front of me. Only one number looped in my brain. $2,800. This time last year, I promised Mark we’d be getting $80,000. He had smiled so brightly, talking about finally getting ahead of our suffocating mortgage. Now, it was $2,800. I pushed the front door open. Mark was in the kitchen stirring a pot of pasta. He glanced over his shoulder. “Did the deposit hit?” I nodded. “It hit.” “And?” I shrugged off my coat. My voice felt like sandpaper. “$2,800.” The spatula slipped from Mark’s hand and smacked against the counter. “What did you just say?” “$2,800.” I slumped onto the sofa. “The company claims the pool is based on net profit.” Mark’s face drained of color. He quickly set the spatula down, turned off the stove, and walked into the living room. “You said $80,000! How are we supposed to cover the mortgage gap?” “I’ll figure something out.” “Figure what out?!” Mark’s voice cracked. “Did you fight back? Did you say anything to them?!” “I tried. They said it’s corporate policy.” Mark stared at me, his eyes brimming with a toxic mix of disappointment and rage. “Chloe, why are you such a doormat? For three years, all you’ve done is bury your head in your code. What else do you even do?” “When people steal your credit, you stay quiet. When the company literally robs you, you stay quiet.” His voice broke. “Even a corporate drone deserves better than this!” I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. Mark turned around, walked into the bedroom, and slammed the door shut. I sat alone in the living room, staring blankly at the cold, unserved dinner on the counter. 2 My phone vibrated a few times. It was a couple of empty, corporate-speak texts from my coworkers. “Keep your head up, Chloe. Let’s push hard next year.” “Sucks about the bonuses, but the company is growing!” I didn’t reply to a single one. I placed the phone face-down on the coffee table. From the bedroom, I could hear Mark crying. It was muffled, but in the dead quiet of the apartment, it was deafening. I stood up, walked out onto the balcony, and lit a cigarette. The smoke dissipated quickly in the freezing winter wind, just like my sacrifices over the past three years. That all-nighter in June, where I wrote 3,000 lines of code by myself to land the $1.5 million Apex Dynamics contract. The massive server crash in September, where I dragged myself out of bed at 3:00 AM and coded for four straight hours to fix it. Every single time, Dave took the microphone in the morning meetings to claim the glory, while I sat quietly in the back with a coffee. Every single time, it was, “Oh, and Chloe helped a bit too.” I crushed the cigarette out and went back inside. The bedroom door was still shut. I didn’t knock. I just lay down on the sofa. I barely slept. My mind was a chaotic loop of spreadsheets and Mark’s bitter words. The next day was Christmas Eve. As per tradition, we were driving to my parents’ house. Mark woke up early to pack the car. He didn’t speak a single word to me the entire morning. The drive to my hometown was suffocating. Several times I opened my mouth to break the ice, but one look at his icy profile made me swallow my words. We arrived mid-afternoon. My mom had a massive holiday spread waiting, her face lighting up when we walked in. “You’re here! You must be exhausted. Sit, sit!” My dad walked out of the den and patted my shoulder. “End-of-year bonus come through?” I froze, shooting a quick glance at Mark. “Yeah. It did.” “Well?” My mom walked over, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. My throat tightened. “$2,800.” My dad’s hand stopped mid-air. My mom’s smile shattered. “How much did you say?” my dad asked, his brow furrowing deeply. “$2,800.” The living room went dead quiet. The only sound was the faint bubbling of a stew from the kitchen. Mark dropped his duffel bag. He let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Her company played her.” My mom looked heartbroken, but she forced a weak smile. “It’s… it’s okay. Next year will be better.” My dad just sighed heavily, turned around, and walked into the kitchen without a word. Christmas Eve dinner was incredibly depressing. The holiday specials playing cheerfully on the TV felt like a mockery. Mark barely ate, just stared down at his phone the entire time. I picked at my food. Everything tasted like ash. Eventually, I put my fork down and said I was full. My mom looked at me, hesitating, before softly saying, “Eat a little more, honey. Don’t starve yourself.” Later that night, as we sat by the fireplace, my dad lit a cigar and sat next to me. “Chloe, you aren’t a kid anymore. You need to learn how the real world works.” “What do you mean?” “Office politics.” He blew out a puff of smoke. “Just keeping your head down and doing the work gets you nowhere.” “Look at that coworker of yours, Dave. He knows how to play the game, right? You need to learn from him.” I didn’t answer. I just stared at the glowing embers in the fireplace. “I know you think it’s unfair, but that’s reality.” He patted my knee. “Accept it. That’s just how people are.” I turned to look at him. I wanted to scream that I refused to accept it. But in the end, I swallowed my pride and just nodded. 3 When we drove to Mark’s family’s house for Christmas Day, his mood was even worse. He scrolled through his phone the entire drive, sighing heavily at least a dozen times. Parked in his parents’ driveway was a brand-new, silver Audi. It gleamed perfectly in the winter sun. Mark’s younger brother, Kevin, was standing on the porch. When he saw us pull up, he grinned from ear to ear. “Chloe! Mark! Merry Christmas! I heard you got a massive payout this year, Chloe!” I forced a stiff smile. “It was okay.” “I pulled $15,000 this year.” Kevin patted the hood of the Audi. “Just enough for the down payment on this beauty.” He walked over, practically radiating arrogance. “What about you, Chloe? You must’ve gotten way more than me, right?” Mark answered coldly from behind me. “$2,800.” Kevin’s grin froze. A flash of genuine shock crossed his face, quickly replaced by a sickening look of pity. “Oh… well… that’s not terrible.” His tone instantly became polite and distant. The sudden shift was almost laughable. Inside, my mother-in-law was bustling in the kitchen. She greeted us enthusiastically. “Chloe! Sit down, dinner is almost ready.” Kevin’s wife, Jessica, was sitting on the couch holding their newborn. She smiled warmly. “Hey guys, Merry Christmas.” At the dinner table, my father-in-law poured me a glass of wine, chuckling. “Chloe worked so hard this year.” “Just doing my job,” I said, picking up the glass. “I heard your company had a killer year?” he probed gently. “It was good. $5.2 million in profit.” My mother-in-law’s eyes lit up. “Then your bonus must have been incredible!” Everyone at the table stopped what they were doing and looked at me. Kevin put his fork down. Jessica held her baby a little tighter. Even the extended relatives visiting for the holidays paused, waiting for my answer. I set my wine glass down. “$2,800.” The air in the room evaporated. My mother-in-law’s smile vanished. My father-in-law’s hand hovered mid-air, unsure whether to drink his wine or put it down. Kevin actually snorted a laugh before quickly covering it up with a fake cough. Jessica whispered entirely too loudly, “I told you, tech is a dead-end if you aren’t management.” “You gotta pivot to sales or leadership,” Kevin said smugly. “What’s the point of just being a code monkey?” My mother-in-law looked deeply uncomfortable. She forced a smile. “Chloe… maybe it’s time to start looking for a new job?” “If they’re making that much profit and tossing you pennies, they’re just playing you for a fool.” “Exactly,” my father-in-law nodded. “You have to show some ambition. You can’t just let people walk all over you.” Mark slammed his fork down. His voice was ice. “I lost my appetite.” He stood up and stormed into the guest bedroom. I kept eating. Bite by bite. Very slowly. Everything tasted like cardboard, but I kept chewing and swallowing mechanically. Kevin looked at me with a mix of pity and sheer superiority. “Chloe, do you want me to put a good word in for you at my firm? We need IT support.” “The pay won’t be anywhere near what you’re making now, but you know how the market is.” I looked up at him and smiled softly. “I appreciate it, but no thanks.” “Then what’s your plan?” Jessica asked. “You can’t just keep doing this.” I put my fork down and wiped my mouth with a napkin. “I already have a plan.” My mother-in-law breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. It’s time you started looking out for yourself.” 4 After dinner, I went into the guest room to find Mark. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out the window. When I walked in, he turned his head away. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Who are you apologizing to?” he asked the window. “You should be apologizing to yourself.” “Three years, Chloe. Three years. Besides writing code, what do you actually know how to do?” His voice trembled. “When someone takes credit for your work, you say nothing.” “When your company steals your money, you say nothing.” “And now, my parents and my little brother look down on you.” “Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for me?” I stood behind him. I opened my mouth, wanting to explain. But the words stayed stuck in my throat. Mark stood up. “I need some space. Get out.” I turned and left. The hallway was freezing. I leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette. Outside, I could hear kids playing and families laughing. Every house was filled with joy, and I was standing here feeling like a punchline. The smoke blurred my vision. I thought back to the day I signed my profit-sharing contract. Mr. Mercer had clapped me on the back. “Keep up the great work, Chloe. The company takes care of its own.” Looking back, his definition of ‘taking care of its own’ was vastly different from mine. I crushed the cigarette out and walked back to the living room. Kevin was still bragging to his dad about his new car—the interest rate, the maintenance package. My mother-in-law was washing dishes, looking at me with pity she couldn’t hide. I sat in the corner of the sofa, pulled out my phone, and scrolled aimlessly. My thumb swiped past holiday greetings and cheerful photos, but my brain didn’t process a single word. All I could hear were those voices. “Why are you such a doormat?” “What’s the point of just being a code monkey?” “You have to show some ambition.” I locked my phone, leaned my head back, and closed my eyes. Something was quietly fermenting inside my chest. A spark, catching fire, burning hotter and brighter by the second. 5 It was late when we finally got back to our apartment. Mark hadn’t spoken a word the entire drive. The second we walked in, he went straight to the bedroom, leaving me alone in the living room. I didn’t turn on the lights. The streetlamps outside cast long, fractured shadows across the hardwood floor. My phone buzzed. It was a message in the company group chat. Dave had posted a photo: A sunny beach in Cabo, a margarita, and a girl in a bikini. His caption: “This is how you spend the holidays.” A barrage of thumbs-up and jealous emojis followed. I stared at that photo for a long time. Then, I closed the app. I walked into my home office and booted up my laptop. My system administrator privileges were still active. I had full backend access to the financial reporting system. I opened the dashboard. The numbers loaded onto the screen, so blindingly bright they made my eyes water. Operating Profit: $5.2 million. Administrative Expenses: $3.5 million. Net Profit: $1.7 million. My mouse hovered over “Administrative Expenses” for a long time. Then, I clicked on the itemized breakdown. Executive Bonuses: $1.5 million. Consulting Fees: $1.1 million. Team Building: $700,000. Miscellaneous: $200,000. I dug deeper. The recipient of the $1.1 million consulting fee was an LLC named “Summit Management Consulting.” The registered CEO? Emily Mercer. Mr. Mercer’s wife. I took a screenshot and kept scrolling. Under “Team Building,” there was a $700,000 expense for an “Overseas Market Research Retreat.” The location? The Maldives. The attendees: Mr. Mercer, the VP, and the CFO. The date was last November. I remember November. I spent three straight weeks pulling all-nighters in the office, single-handedly patching the security vulnerabilities for the Apex Dynamics launch. While they were “researching” in the Maldives. I leaned back in my chair, staring at the screen. I scrolled down from the $1.5 million executive bonus pool and found Dave’s name. $80,000. He got $80,000. I kept scrolling, page by page. My hands grew colder by the second. The $1.5 million executive pool was split among 12 people. The remaining $1.7 million “Net Profit” was the pool they used to calculate our 10% dividend. 10% of $1.7 million is $170,000. And there were 73 “core employees.” I did the math. $170,000 ÷ 73 people ≈ $2,328. With some minor performance adjustments, that’s exactly how my $2,800 was born. They artificially crushed the profit down to $1.7 million, funneled millions into their own pockets through shell companies and vacations, and then tossed the leftover crumbs to us as “charity.” Legalized embezzlement. Beautiful, bulletproof accounting. Money that was rightfully mine. Wiped out by the magical phrase “Net Profit.” I closed the financial portal and opened a different folder. Three years of system logs. Every single line of code I had ever committed. Every timestamped optimization. The “Dynamic Auto-Balancing Algorithm”—the beating heart of our entire software architecture. I was the only person who understood its core logic. I stared at the code for a long time. Then, I opened a blank document and started working. I carefully stripped the core algorithm out of the main system architecture, repackaging it as an independent, proprietary module, completely rewriting the dependency logic. The clacking of my mechanical keyboard echoed loudly in the silent apartment. The winter wind howled against the glass.

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On Valentine’s Day, I discovered that the gold jewelry from our home safe was being shown off on the livestream of a college student my husband sponsored. Just this morning, I had asked my husband to cash in that gold. It was life-saving money for my father. On the screen, Maya Reed smiled coyly. “This is real gold from my sugar daddy. Let’s see who dares to say he isn’t the real deal now.” My hands trembled as I dialed my husband’s number. My father had suffered a severe stroke and was in the ICU. It was costing thousands of dollars a day. That gold was supposed to be his lifeline. I called over a dozen times, but he hung up on every single one. He only replied with one text. [I’m busy.] Right at that moment, his laughing voice came through the livestream. “Baby, let me see who’s jealous of you.” I put my phone down and dialed 911. It didn’t take long before the couple’s public display of affection was abruptly cut short. Through the screen, I heard a muffled, stern voice. “City Police Department. We’re here to investigate a grand larceny case involving stolen gold.” 1 Ever since we got married, Arthur would gift me gold every year. Bracelets, bullion, custom ornaments—he bought it all. He always said it was to make up for the expensive bridal jewelry he couldn’t afford when we first tied the knot. But now, all of those things were sitting in another woman’s livestream. Being flaunted as tokens of their love. The sheer irony of it made me want to laugh. The electronic lock on the front door beeped twice, and Arthur walked in, bringing the chill of the winter night with him. The moment he stepped inside, he launched into a furious tirade. “Elena, did you have the cops arrest Maya?!” His voice was full of utter disbelief and rage. “Do you have any idea that by calling the cops, you’ve ruined her life?! She just graduated! How is she supposed to get a job or live a normal life with a felony record?” “You know how hard she worked to get through college! You’re going to destroy her over a little bit of gold?” I hadn’t even said a single word, yet he was already painting me as the villain. The burning agony that had been searing my chest all day suddenly froze over in the face of his coldness, leaving me completely numb. “A little bit of gold?” I curled my lips into a mocking smile, my eyes burning. “Arthur, I told you clearly this morning to take the gold from the safe and cash it in. You said you were busy. You said you didn’t have time.” I pulled up the screen recording I had saved and shoved the phone in his face. In the video, Maya’s delicate face was zoomed in, and her sickeningly sweet voice echoed from the speaker. “Is this what you were busy with? Busy calling her ‘baby’ on a livestream? Busy watching her show off the tokens of love you gave her?” Arthur’s face went completely white, then rapidly flushed a deep, angry red. “Elena, listen to me, I can explain…” He softened his tone, trying to sound reasonable and placating. “Maya’s family is in a really tough spot. Her dad has terminal cancer and is in a hospital back in her home state. The daily medical bills are suffocating her. She only reached out to me because she was completely desperate. I’ve sponsored her education for years; how could I just abandon her now?” “And about that gold… I just lent it to her as a prop for her videos, to see if it could help her get some traffic. All that stuff she said on the livestream was just a scripted act. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d overreact exactly like this.” “There is absolutely nothing going on between us! Elena, how could you think so poorly of me?” His brows were knitted tightly together, his eyes brimming with the look of a falsely accused victim. Watching his performance, I almost wanted to give him a standing ovation. He was so brazenly twisting the truth, deflecting the real issue, and packaging his filthy affair as some noble act of charity. “Helping her?” I scoffed, opening my mobile banking app to the transaction history page. “Does helping her require wiring her cutesy, romantic amounts like $1,433 and $5,200? Does helping her require you to spend Valentine’s Day and our anniversary with her?” “Arthur, save this bullshit to fool yourself. Don’t say it out loud and disgust me.” Arthur’s expression froze. He suddenly raised his voice, trying to overpower me with sheer volume. “Elena, are you investigating me?! Is there absolutely no basic trust left between us?” He took a step closer, his breath hot against my face. “I bust my ass out there every single day! I drink with clients until my stomach bleeds! And for what? For this family! To give you and your dad a good life! And just because you caught wind of some baseless rumor, you call the cops to arrest a young girl without even talking to me first?” “Where does that leave me?! How are my colleagues and partners supposed to look at me? Do you know this could ruin the company’s reputation and tank our next round of funding?!” His accusations were so self-righteous, as if I were the unreasonable, hysterical sinner who was destroying everything. There was no point in arguing anymore. I let out a long, exhausted sigh. “You don’t need to gaslight me. I didn’t tell you about my dad being hospitalized because I thought you were actually busy with work, and I didn’t want to distract you. The reason I asked you to cash in the gold today was to pay for his medical bills.” “And because you told me all our liquid cash was tied up in your new project, I had no other choice but to—” To my surprise, Arthur let out a mocking scoff. “Do you really need to make up a lie like that? Your dad is healthier than I am! Hospitalized? Please. You’re only doing this because I told you Maya’s dad has cancer, and you’re trying to play the sympathy card.” My eyes widened in absolute shock. I stared at him, completely paralyzed. It was as if I didn’t recognize the man standing in front of me. His expression remained cold as he sneered. “I’m telling you right now: drop the charges immediately, or this isn’t over!” With that, he slammed the door and stormed out. I stood alone in the living room for a very long time. Then, I picked up my phone and dialed a friend’s number. “Can you do me a favor? I need a deep dive into all of Arthur’s personal bank statements and transaction histories for the past year. The more detailed, the better.” I paused, my gaze sweeping over my own pale, bloodless face in the hallway mirror. “Also, that apartment I bought before we got married—list it on the market ASAP. I don’t care if the price is a little low, but it has to be an all-cash offer. I need it sold as fast as possible.” 2 I opened my text messages. My chat with Arthur was still stuck on the day before yesterday. [Elena, I have to entertain some investors tonight. Don’t wait up for dinner.] That was the day my father was in the resuscitation room. I had called him seven times, and he didn’t answer a single one. It wasn’t until 3:00 AM that he finally texted back. [Drank too much. Going to sleep.] I swiped across the screen and, as if possessed, clicked into Maya’s Instagram profile. Her latest post was from yesterday. “Who says sugar daddies are all greasy old men? Mine has impeccable taste, and that’s what I love most about him.” The video showed a high-end Omakase restaurant that cost at least a thousand dollars a head. The camera only panned to the hands of the man sitting across from her. He was wearing a luxury watch from last year’s latest collection. It was the birthday present I had given him. I kept scrolling down. Last year, on the night of our wedding anniversary, I waited at the restaurant until they closed. He called to say he had to fly out of the country for a last-minute business emergency and couldn’t be there. But on that exact same day on Maya’s account, she posted a picture of the night view from a revolving restaurant in another country. In the one second he briefly appeared in the frame, I recognized those custom cufflinks. I had driven across half the city to find them for him. The night my dad fainted and was rushed to the hospital for the first time, I was pacing the ER hallway, utterly helpless. He said he was in a critical meeting that would determine the company’s Q3 revenue. At almost that exact same time, Maya posted a photo dump. In the corner of one picture, I could see his thermos. The center photo was a looping video of a girl playfully wrapping a man’s silk tie around her finger. The caption read: [Bringing some warmth to someone who’s working so hard today, so I’m claiming this tie as my reward! 💕] Staring at the screen, I suddenly burst into laughter. The sound of my laughter was piercingly harsh in the empty living room. When Arthur and I first got together, he was a tech geek who didn’t even know how to match a dress shirt with a suit. His closet was full of ill-fitting, cheap blazers. I was the one who taught him, little by little, how to choose fabrics and recognize good tailoring. I took him to custom tailors and taught him what to wear for different occasions. His first decent suit was picked out by me. His first expensive watch was gifted by me. Even the cologne he wears now… I chose that woody scent specifically to match his cultivated aura. And now, all of it had become his capital to please another woman. Before I realized it, tears had completely covered my face. I didn’t snap out of it until my phone started vibrating endlessly. It was messages from my friend, along with a series of attached files. [Elena, I got the bank statements. There’s a major problem; you need to look at these files right away. Also… that apartment you asked me to list? I just talked to a broker. He said… your apartment was already mortgaged last year.] My fingers went stiff. [Mortgaged? I never authorized or signed any mortgage paperwork.] I hurriedly opened the files. Aside from the fraudulent loan documents, there were actually several credit cards from different banks opened in my name. I clicked open the billing statements one by one. The accounts started opening two years ago; the most recent one was activated just last week. The combined credit limit was over eighty thousand dollars. The billing address for every single card was Arthur’s company. And the transaction details were filled with luxury hotels, designer boutiques, high-end jewelry, and Michelin-starred restaurants. The charges spanned across the country, and there were even a few international transactions. As I flipped through them page by page, my blood ran cold. Last October, on my birthday, he said he had to work overtime at the office. But the credit card statement showed a charge of $1,200 at a high-end restaurant in Manhattan that very night. Last Christmas, he said he was taking clients out to play golf. Yet there were three consecutive days of charges at a top-tier luxury resort in Miami, totaling over $8,000. And today, Valentine’s Day— There was a charge of $13,140 at a luxury jewelry brand. Meanwhile, I hadn’t even received a simple ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’ text from him, let alone a gift. I closed the digital folder and shut my eyes. So many memories flashed through my mind. Three years ago, when his first startup failed and left him with over a hundred thousand dollars in debt, I drained my savings and begged my parents for a loan just to bail him out. His eyes were bloodshot as he hugged me, his tears soaking through my shirt. He had said: “Elena, if I ever betray you in this life, may God strike me down with lightning.” Two years ago, when his company finally took off, he held my hand and said: “From now on, half of every penny I make belongs to you.” Every single vow had now become a vicious slap across my face. I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached, trying to stop my body from trembling. [Keep digging. I want every single debt investigated thoroughly. Also, help me find a ruthless divorce attorney. Someone who specializes in marital debt fraud and hidden assets.] After sending the text, I put my phone down and walked to the window. The night outside was pitch black, a darkness that seemed to have no end. 3 Right after the Monday morning meeting wrapped up, a colleague stopped me, sounding a bit panicked. “Elena, there are two women downstairs asking for you. They said they’re Maya’s family. They’re extremely agitated… it looks like they’re here to cause a scene.” Before she even finished her sentence, the sound of crying and screaming reached us. “Where is Elena Harper?! Tell that black-hearted bitch to get out here!” A woman in her fifties charged to the front, her expression ferocious. The entire department’s attention instantly zeroed in on us. The woman pointed a finger right at my nose, screaming at the top of her lungs. “You’re Elena?! You vicious wretch! How dare you call the cops on my daughter! She’s an innocent, pure college girl, and you pushed her so hard she almost jumped off a building, do you know that?!” The aunt next to her immediately chimed in, her tone dripping with toxic sarcasm. “Let everyone here be the judge! She accused my niece of stealing her gold. But it was all fake! Cheap gold-plated garbage! Worth maybe a hundred bucks tops, and she insisted it was real just to ruin our Maya! This is attempted murder! Where is your boss? Tell him to come out and see what kind of trash he hires!” The gold was fake? Impossible. Then, another thought crossed my mind. This was probably just their tactic to get Maya out of trouble. I let out a cold laugh. “Ladies, this is a place of business. If you have an issue, we can discuss it in a conference room.” “Discuss my ass! You’re going to drop the charges right this second! Otherwise, I’ll come to your office and make a scene every single day! I’ll make sure you can’t show your face in public ever again!” Maya’s mother spat as she yelled. “Let me tell you, we had that garbage ‘gold’ appraised. It’s nothing but cheap gold-plated silver! Just you wait, we’re going to sue you!” I frowned slightly, my tone turning icy. “I called the police because there was clear video evidence showing my personal property in a place it shouldn’t be. As for whether it’s real or fake, the police will handle the appraisal.” Maya’s aunt jumped up. “Don’t try to bully us just because you think we’re stupid! We consulted a lawyer, and we have the lab reports. The evidence is rock solid! You framed her! We’re pressing charges! We’re suing you for malicious prosecution and defamation! If you don’t drop the case, your life is going to be a living hell!” When she slapped the appraisal report down in front of me, my heart plummeted. But I couldn’t afford to show weakness in front of them. I kept my voice steady. “I’ve already filed the police report. If you keep causing a disturbance here, you can go sit in a cell right next to Maya.” I ignored them after that, walking straight through the crowd of staring coworkers and toward the elevator. I could still hear the aunt’s hushed curses echoing behind me. “That gold was obviously fake… let’s see how much longer she can act so arrogant!” My heart was trembling. Right at that moment, I received a call from the police detective. “Ms. Harper, we sent that batch of gold jewelry and bullion in for testing. They are indeed gold-plated items. The outer layer contains less than 1% gold, and the base material is 925 sterling silver. The overall gold content is under 10%…” I couldn’t hear a single word the detective said after that. The entire world faded into an endless, deafening ringing in my ears. Which meant, Arthur had spent only a tenth of the cost to maintain his image as a “generous,” “family-oriented” husband. And I had been played for an absolute fool. I had even treated it as my only lifeline when my father was at death’s door. I took a deep breath, suddenly realizing that I didn’t even have the energy to be angry anymore. All that was left was a crystal-clear, icy reality. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Arthur. [Elena, I heard Maya’s family went to your office to make a scene? Please don’t stoop to their level. Let’s sit down and talk properly when we get home tonight. We can fix this.] [There’s a huge misunderstanding here, please don’t listen to them…] [Elena, are you busy? Why aren’t you replying?] A misunderstanding. I stared at his texts. I could feel his sheer panic radiating through the screen. I suddenly really wanted to laugh. Is he only feeling scared now? After deceiving me and betraying me time and time again, what did he take me for? I actually completely agreed with something Maya’s aunt had said. Arthur, your life is about to become a living hell.

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I had just submitted my wedding leave application when the new hire turned to me and said: “Chloe, Ruth just informed me that starting tomorrow, all your projects will be transferred to me.” “Your salary is being cut by eight thousand, and mine is going up to twenty thousand.” I fell silent. I’d been with the company for seven years and had been the top salesperson for six of them. The new hire had only been here three months, and I’d completed his first project for him. And they were demoting me and cutting my pay? I laughed bitterly, stood up from my desk, and walked straight to HR’s office to demand an explanation. HR manager John coughed twice and pulled out my wedding leave application. “According to company policy, wedding leave disrupts normal operations, so we must take disciplinary action. This is Paul’s decision.” I smiled coldly. Paul had no idea that my fiancé was none other than the company’s biggest partner. “Chloe, it’s not that I don’t want to help you. This is Paul’s decision.” In HR manager John’s office. When I explained why I’d come, John pointed to my recently approved wedding leave application on his desk, hinting. “You know how busy the company is at year-end. Requesting wedding leave at this time—aren’t you deliberately causing trouble?” I remained silent. From graduation until now, I’d been with the company for seven years, and I’d been the top salesperson for six of them. Even my lowest-level projects were worth at least a million dollars. A month ago, after I’d secured the partnership with SKY Group, boss Paul had specially thrown a celebration banquet to commend me: “Chloe, you’re amazing! I knew I was right about you. When the project officially launches, I’m definitely giving you a promotion and a raise!” “The Market Manager position is yours.” But now, just because I’d submitted a wedding leave application, I was being demoted and having my salary cut by eight thousand. Facing John’s accusatory gaze, I didn’t rush to argue back. Instead, I calmly pulled up my overtime records from the past three months. “I only requested seven days for wedding leave, and that includes three statutory holidays.” I pointed at my phone screen. “For these seven days, I worked three consecutive months without rest, arriving at eight a.m. and leaving at midnight every day.” “According to company policy, that totals eleven days of compensatory leave.” John’s smile stiffened. I continued scrolling through my phone, pulling up this month’s business list. “Of my projects, five are completed; three are in progress but already signed and finalized.” “There’s one waiting for a response from our partner, Pierce. I just spoke with him yesterday.” “Pierce is on vacation in Norway and won’t be available until after the New Year.” “I clearly communicated all of this when I submitted my wedding leave application.” I stated these facts calmly, staring at him without flinching. “So John, I’d like to ask—which part of the company’s operations did my wedding leave disrupt?” “And how did you and Paul determine that my requesting leave to get married was causing trouble?” Sweat began to bead on John’s forehead. “Chloe, that’s not exactly what I meant…” “I’m not finished.” I cut him off and pointed through the glass door toward a desk near the window—that was Paul’s assistant James’s workstation. He’d gotten married last month, and since his hometown was out of state, he’d taken half a month off. “James got married on the 8th of last month and took two weeks off. On his first day back, the company gave him a family establishment benefit and raised his salary by a thousand.” “John, if you say I’m incompetent and demote me with a pay cut, I’ll accept it.” “If you say I caused major losses to the company and demote me with a pay cut, I’ll accept that too.” “But demoting me and cutting my pay because I requested seven days of wedding leave, and letting a new hire who’s been here less than three months step on my head and completely replace me—” “I’m sorry, John, but that I cannot accept.” My voice wasn’t loud, but every word was clear. John’s face turned from dark to pale, and finally he just threw in the towel: “It’s no use telling me all this. Who told you to be a woman?” “What?” I froze, thinking I’d misheard. John rolled his eyes at me and said coldly: “You only requested seven days of wedding leave, but won’t you have to have kids after marriage? And won’t having kids mean maternity leave and parental leave? Add all that up—who knows how much the company will lose in the future? Can you take responsibility for those losses?” “I just can’t stand you young women, thinking you can play tricks just because you’re getting married, always requesting time off at the drop of a hat. If everyone did that, the company might as well close.” “Alright, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear any of this today. Get back to work.” “Really think you’re someone special.” John muttered, looking at me like I was a piece of replaceable trash. I looked at him, feeling chilled to the bone. I’d worked hard for the company for seven years, and just because I’d applied for wedding leave once, seven years of effort became “causing trouble.” I’d been the top salesperson for six years, generating tens of millions in revenue for the company, and just because I was getting married, my position and salary could be easily replaced by a new hire. This was the company I’d worked for seven years. Efficient, and brutally cold. I stood up, gave John one last look, and turned to leave. Since that’s how it was, I didn’t need to tell the company. My fiancé was actually Stuart, the CEO of SKY Group—the company’s biggest current partner.

After leaving HR’s office, I went to the restroom to wash my face. In the mirror, I wore perfectly applied makeup, my shirt buttoned all the way to the top, every strand of hair carefully styled. For seven years, I hadn’t dared to relax for a moment in order to meet my performance targets. When I had colds or fevers, I didn’t dare take time off. When I had family matters, I found others to help. On the company’s perfect attendance chart, I’d been in first place for seven consecutive years. Just because of one wedding leave request, the company had demoted me and cut my pay, and seven years of effort had gone down the drain. I pulled out my lipstick, habitually preparing to touch up my makeup. From inside a bathroom stall, I suddenly heard the new hire on the phone. “Mom, I got promoted.” “You won’t believe this—my supervisor’s been the top salesperson for six years, but just because she requested wedding leave, my boss specifically called me into his office. Said something about how requesting leave to get married shows irresponsibility to the company, that they can’t tolerate employees like that, so they’re promoting me to teach my supervisor a lesson. It’s hilarious.” “Can you believe she’s stayed at this company for seven years? If it were me, I’d have left long ago. There’s bullying, and then there’s this.” Yes, even a new hire who’d only been at the company three months knew this was wrong. But my boss had done it anyway. I snorted, didn’t disturb the person inside, and walked toward my desk. Passing by Paul’s office, I heard John reporting to the boss inside. “Paul, I’ve handled things with Chloe. She won’t cause any trouble.” “Your method was brilliant. Taking advantage of her wedding leave request to directly strip her of her position. After all, she’s just a woman. She should be grateful the company gave her a job opportunity. How dare she request wedding leave? Long hair, short brain.” “Exactly,” from behind his desk, Paul leisurely lit a cigarette. “John, you did well with this. Seven days of wedding leave? She dares to even think it? Really thinks she’s some big shot.” “We can’t set this precedent. If everyone starts using marriage as an excuse to ask me for leave, how can I run this company?” “But…” John suddenly lowered his voice. “What if Chloe quits?” “She wouldn’t dare!” Paul slammed his hand on the desk. “If I hadn’t recruited her into the company and given her such a great platform, how could a woman have climbed to her current position?” “Besides, if she hadn’t gotten married, I might worry. But once she’s married, with car loans, mortgages, baby formula costs… she’ll only become more dependent on the company. Quit? Impossible.” “When she comes back from wedding leave, find an excuse to cut her salary again.” “I can handle her.” Paul blew a smoke ring, and I could feel his smugness even through the door crack. John gave a thumbs up and readily agreed: “Alright, when she comes back, I’ll have her do grunt work for the new hire.” These words, along with the new hire’s words, pierced my heart like knives. Seven years. I’d been at this company for seven years. I’d developed the first state-level market. I’d established the first complete production chain. In terms of performance and ability, I was second to none. I’d thought at least the boss would respect me. But the result… I laughed self-mockingly and returned to my desk. I pulled out my phone and found my fiancé’s Twitter: “Change of plans. Don’t send a wedding invitation to my boss this weekend.” “Yeah, I’m planning to just quit.”

After sending the message, I began packing up my things. The company’s 200-person group chat suddenly updated with an announcement. Paul was calling me out by name. [Former Sales Manager Chloe, due to requesting seven days of wedding leave for personal marriage, has severely disrupted the company’s daily operations. We have decided to revoke her Sales Manager position and reduce her salary by eight thousand. Let this be a warning to everyone.] The group went quiet for a moment, then came a long string of “Acknowledged” messages. Immediately after, my Twitter exploded with dozens of messages. [Sorry Chloe, something came up last minute this weekend. I won’t be able to attend the wedding. Wish you happiness.] This was from my desk neighbor, a workplace partner I’d worked with for five years. [Chloe, um, my elderly relative is sick and I can’t get away. I’ll send you the gift money. Happy wedding.] This came from a colleague—I’d covered his shifts when he was sick and took leave last month. And then there was Lisa, the first intern I’d trained, who was also my bridesmaid. [Chloe, John hinted in the group chat that we shouldn’t attend your wedding. Find someone else to be your bridesmaid…] I stared at the screen, my finger hovering over the keyboard, not replying. I knew this was part of Paul’s manipulation. Making sure no one came to my wedding, turning me into a joke on my wedding day. I closed my phone, forcing myself not to look anymore. Suddenly, a document was slammed down in front of me. “Chloe, SKY Group’s CEO is getting married this weekend. I’ll have to trouble you to come in on Saturday for some overtime.” John looked at me with a fake smile, deliberately emphasizing: “This is Paul’s decision.” I remained silent. On my wedding leave application form, I’d clearly written: Wedding date: January 31st, this Saturday. So demoting me, cutting my pay, and isolating me wasn’t enough for Paul. He actually wanted me to cancel my own wedding? “Are you and Paul sure about this?” I asked in a flat tone. “Of course. How could we joke about something like this?” John tilted his chin at me. “Chloe, don’t feel wronged. Marriage, well, good things come to those who wait. Changing the date is the same thing.” “Fine.” I stood up, picked up the box of items I’d just packed, and showed an unusually warm smile: “Then I’ll see you on Saturday.”

When I got home, my mood had been bad all day because of what happened at the company, and my expression showed it. Stuart was sitting on the couch looking at documents. He turned and saw my expression, frowned, and asked: “Chloe, what’s wrong? You look terrible.” I rarely complained to him about work issues. Whenever I encountered difficulties, I always solved them on my own. Today, I’d originally wanted to tell him it was nothing as usual, not to worry, But when I opened my mouth, I ultimately felt a bit powerless. So I told him exactly what had happened at the company today— How my boss deliberately made things difficult for me because of my wedding leave, trying to cut my pay, Letting a new hire step all over me and take my position, Having company colleagues isolate me so no one would come to my wedding, And making me postpone the wedding to come in for overtime on Saturday. I laid it all out, one thing after another. The more I spoke, the angrier I became. “He also said that weddings are just a formality anyway, and changing the date was no big deal—couldn’t interfere with company work.” My voice grew quieter: “He also said that when I come back from wedding leave, my salary will be cut again, and once I have a family and kids, I’ll be at his mercy and won’t dare to quit.” Stuart’s expression darkened with each word of my account. When I finished my last sentence, he stood up abruptly, his phone already out. “Paul, right?” His voice was cold as ice. “Your boss—I’ve had my eye on him for a while.” “Just wait. I’m calling him right now to tell him the partnership is cancelled.” “Wait!” I quickly grabbed his arm. But he’d already pulled up Paul’s number in his contacts. Over the years, most of the company’s business had been developed by me, But Paul didn’t know that the company’s most important partner, Stuart, CEO of SKY, was my fiancé. “Don’t call yet!” I grabbed his phone. Stuart looked at me, the fury still in his eyes, but he stopped what he was doing. He’d always been indulgent with me. We’d met three years ago at a project coordination meeting. At the time, I happened to be in charge of a collaboration between our company and SKY. Stuart, as SKY’s CEO, represented them at the meeting. The meeting ran from two in the afternoon until eight at night, with both sides deadlocked on several key terms. Everyone else was exhausted, but I was still going over data and revising proposals again and again. After the meeting, Stuart walked over and said to me: “Miss Chloe, you’re the most meticulous person I’ve ever met.” I didn’t know who he was then, assuming he was some SKY executive, So I replied politely: “It’s my job. This project is very important to our company.” Later he told me that it was that evening, Watching me repeatedly verify details and data with my team, my eyes shining, that he’d suddenly felt his heart move. He’d proactively asked for my contact information and started asking me to dinner. At first I thought it was work-related, but later I realized he was pursuing me. I asked him why he liked me, and he said: “I like the way you look when you’re working seriously.” So we secretly started dating, and now, it’s been almost three years. This renewal of the contract between SKY and my company had originally been shelved for two months due to terms issues. It was Stuart who, after learning that I was mainly responsible for this project, actively pushed the renewal process forward. Paul had even specially praised me for it, saying I “had connections.” But he didn’t know that these “connections” were my fiancé giving face on my behalf. All these years, I’d worked diligently and conscientiously for the company, But they treated me this way. It was time I got my revenge. I gripped his hand tightly: “Listen to me. Paul and the others sent out invitations they haven’t responded to, right? Call them now as my fiancé and personally invite them to our wedding.” Stuart paused for a moment, then understood what I meant. The fury in his eyes gradually transformed into a playful smile: “You want them to see you at the wedding?” I nodded, feeling the suffocating anger in my chest finally find an outlet: “I want to see what expression Paul and John have when they discover that the bride of their biggest business partner is the subordinate they docked bonuses from and workplace bullied.” Stuart laughed. He picked up his phone again, called Paul, and personally invited them to our wedding. He put it on speakerphone. I heard Paul on the other end, Nodding and bowing, saying he’d definitely be there on Saturday. A cold smile curved my lips. After hanging up, Stuart raised an eyebrow at me: “Alright, now we just wait for Saturday’s show.” I looked up at him: “Aren’t you afraid they’ll hold a grudge and it’ll affect future cooperation?” “Cooperation is important, but more important is the character of the partner,” Stuart said lightly. “If they can’t even respect their company’s veteran employees, how can I trust them to be responsible for our cooperation?” I smiled and said nothing more. Night deepened outside the window, but my heart felt bright. I suddenly felt even more anticipation for Saturday’s wedding.

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After washing dishes overseas for five years, I finally paid off all the debts my husband had left behind. I was ready to return home and give him the surprise of a lifetime. But when I arrived at our old apartment with our child, I found the door padlocked and a thick layer of dust on the windows. A neighbor passing by looked at me in astonishment. “Didn’t you and Ethan break up? What are you doing back here?” I rushed straight to my husband’s workplace, only to be stopped by the receptionist. “Looking for Mr. Sterling? The CEO isn’t in today. He’s hosting his baby’s one-month celebration.” My phone buzzed. A news notification popped up on my screen: “Sterling Group CEO Ethan Sterling Spends Millions on Extravagant One-Month Celebration for Heir! The Happy Couple is the Picture of Devotion!” At the exact same moment, a voice message from Ethan came through: “Hey honey, I managed to snag a few baby clothes online for cheap. Just a couple of bucks. Don’t forget to pick up the package.” In the background of his message, a woman’s voice could be heard, teasing with a light laugh: “The bet is already over. How much longer are you going to keep using that fake marriage certificate to trick Stella? Playing poor all these years… aren’t you tired?” It turned out I was the only one who was actually poor. It turned out that after all this time, I was the real mistress. … Ethan’s best friend rushed over, pulling me aside with a panicked look on his face. “How dare a mistress who can’t even see the light of day show her face here? Aren’t you afraid Ethan will find out and cut off your child support?” Seeing me stare silently at my phone, he seemed to realize something. He suddenly slapped a hand over his mouth, his tone laced with shock when he finally spoke again: “You don’t… you really don’t know anything, do you?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. His panic intensified as he stammered, “Uh, look, I was just talking nonsense just now. I have things to do, I gotta go.” Watching the man practically run away, my daughter tugged at my hand. She looked up at me, her little face full of confusion. “Mommy, what’s a mistress who can’t see the light of day?” I forced the corners of my mouth up into a bitter smile and said softly, “I suppose… that would be me.” Perhaps because it was the first time I hadn’t replied to Ethan’s message immediately, my phone suddenly rang. It was him calling. The background noise on the line was deafening—the clinking of glasses and overlapping voices offering congratulations. “What’s going on? Didn’t you see my message?” I ignored his interrogation, instead asking softly: “Ethan, where are you right now?” “Where else would I be? I’m at work, obviously. Look, I can’t talk right now. Remember to get the package.” Click. He didn’t even wait for me to say another word before hanging up. Looking at the disconnected call, I curled my lips, but the smile didn’t reach my eyes. I never knew. I never knew Ethan could lie with such effortless calm. As if remembering something, I unlocked my phone and tapped an app hidden in a folder on the last page of my home screen. It was a location-sharing app. Seven years ago, before I left for the States, Ethan had handed me his phone, his eyes red. “I installed a tracking app on both our phones. This way, we’ll always know where the other person is.” “Take good care of yourself over there. Once you pay off the debt, we can finally live a good life together.” But I had been working so hard to pay off his debts that I never once had the time to check the app. I opened it and located Ethan’s current position. He was at the most luxurious country club in the city. When I arrived at the entrance with my daughter, Ethan was standing a short distance away. He was holding a baby in his arms, gently rocking and cooing at it, trying to make it laugh. Seeing this scene, I froze in place. Mia is five years old now. In my memory, Ethan has never held her. When Mia was just born, she ran a high fever and cried inconsolably. The doctor said a father’s embrace could help soothe the baby. At the time, Mia had been crying for three days straight, refusing to sleep. Yet even then, Ethan just rolled over in bed, showing no reaction other than muttering, “I don’t like kids.” Looking at the man whose face was now overflowing with love, I finally understood. It wasn’t that he didn’t like kids. He just didn’t like my kid. A harsh scolding nearby snapped me back to reality. I looked beside me—my daughter was gone. I instinctively looked up. At this very moment, my daughter was standing right in front of Ethan. She tilted her head up, calling him “Daddy” over and over, her small face filled with eager anticipation. “Daddy, look! I made this for you myself!” But the next second. Ethan looked down at the little girl with utter bewilderment. He raised his hand and swatted away the red braided bracelet Mia was holding out to him. “Is this some kind of new scam?” “I only have one child. I don’t know you.” Chapter 2 After saying that, Ethan impatiently swatted away Mia’s hand as she tried to reach out again. He tightened his grip on the baby he was holding and turned to leave. I stepped forward quickly. I grabbed Mia and pulled her into a tight hug, then took another step to block Ethan’s path. “Ethan, what is the meaning of this?” Perhaps he didn’t expect to see me here today, or maybe he didn’t expect that I had returned to the country without telling him. For a moment, he froze, staring at me with eyes full of utter disbelief. After a long pause, he hugged the baby in his arms tighter and spoke softly, though his tone betrayed a rare hint of guilt: “Why… why are you back?” As he spoke, he seemed to realize something. He suddenly looked down at Mia, who was wiping away tears next to me. “Is she… Mia?” Hearing this, I twitched the corners of my mouth. The light in my eyes dimmed, and a bitter smile failed to reach my eyes. Mia is already five years old. Yet to this day, he couldn’t even recognize his own biological daughter. “Ethan, aren’t you going to explain?” “You…” But before I could even finish my sentence, a fleet of luxury cars pulled up to the entrance of the country club, and a group of people stepped out. When I saw the woman leading the group, I froze, my eyes filling with pain. “Sister, long time no see.” It was Chloe Hayes. My half-sister. Back then, it was her and her mother who destroyed my once-happy family, drove my mother to her death, and had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. Meeting Chloe’s provocative gaze, scenes from the past flashed before my eyes, and my body began to tremble uncontrollably. “Why are you standing out here? It’s freezing.” Chloe smoothly looped her arm through Ethan’s, her tone intimate. Without even giving me a chance to speak, Chloe took the lead, speaking loudly enough for everyone present to hear: “Sister, Ethan told me everything.” “You insisted on being with him, even willingly accepting the role of the other woman. But Ethan and I have a baby now. Please stop harassing him.” “Ethan and I are married. Are you really going to be like your mother and become a stumbling block in someone else’s path to happiness?” Instantly, the surrounding crowd turned their eyes on me, whispering amongst themselves, their words filled with insults and slurs directed at me. I clenched my fists tightly, turned my head to look at the man standing beside Chloe, and asked softly: “Ethan, is this true?” But before Ethan could even open his mouth, my daughter suddenly broke free from my grasp. She snatched the marriage certificate from my pocket. Mia ran up, grabbed Ethan’s hand, and choked out: “Daddy, didn’t you and Mommy already get married? Why do you have a baby with someone else? Is Mia making you angry?” “Daddy, look, this is your and Mommy’s marriage certificate. Mommy keeps it in her pocket every single day.” Chloe stepped forward, ignoring my daughter’s struggles, and snatched the marriage certificate away to examine it. The next second, she held it up, waving it at me, her tone dripping with mockery: “Sister, you really have no shame, do you?” “This marriage certificate is obviously a fake. How much longer are you going to lie to yourself? Look, it doesn’t even have an official seal.” With that, Chloe pulled a marriage certificate from her own designer bag and handed it to me with a smile: “Here, let me show you what a real marriage certificate looks like.” “Oh, by the way, when Ethan and I went to City Hall to get our license, I even recorded a video to document it. Please, enjoy.” She handed her phone to me. It was playing a video of the two of them getting their license. In the video, Ethan was smiling, looking blissfully happy. The sight stung my eyes so badly I almost cried. Chapter 3 “Don’t pay any attention to her. Let’s go inside.” Ethan finally spoke. But when he said it, he didn’t even spare me a single glance. Seeing Ethan turning to leave, Mia rushed forward and threw her arms around him: “Daddy, please don’t ignore Mia…” The next second, the man frowned impatiently, forcefully shoving Mia away. His tone was ice-cold: “I am not your father.” With that, Ethan stepped toward the entrance of the country club, never looking back. I don’t remember how I left the club. All I remember is rushing forward to hug my daughter tightly, while Chloe stood before me, looking down at me and saying: “You will be beneath my heel for the rest of your life.” I had just managed to coax Mia to sleep when I received a text from Ethan. “Things were chaotic today. Don’t overthink it.” Looking at the message, an indescribable bitterness surged from the depths of my heart, rising all the way up to my throat. Ethan always seemed to operate like this. A harsh slap to the face, followed by a half-hearted pat on the back. My phone chimed again. It was a message from Chloe: “Since you’re back in the country, come to the office tomorrow. It’s time to finally settle who inherits the company.” Looking at my sleeping daughter, I dialed my best friend’s number. “Well, look who finally remembered I exist!” “Are you free tomorrow? Can you watch my daughter for the day?” “Daughter? Since when do you have a daughter? Whose is it?” I froze for a moment. “Ethan’s.” The sound of my friend’s utter shock erupted from the phone: “Ethan Sterling? Didn’t you guys break up seven years ago? How do you have a kid?” “And if I remember correctly, Ethan has been married for a while now.” She paused, as if suddenly realizing something: “Girl… don’t tell me you loved Ethan so much you willingly became his mistress…” Hearing this, I forced a smile, but my eyes were filled with nothing but desolation. “It turns out I was the only one kept in the dark.” After hanging up, I stared at the endless stream of notifications popping up on my phone, lost in thought. They were all from Ethan. He sent an address. “I’m busy lately. You and Mia can stay at this apartment for now.” “Starting tomorrow, bring me three meals a day at the office. I’m still used to your cooking.” “Oh, and the day after tomorrow is Chloe’s birthday. As her older sister, make sure you get her a gift.” The moment I saw those messages. I felt a surge of inexplicable rage rise within me, rushing straight to my head. Even now. Ethan offered no explanation whatsoever. Instead, he just continued to issue orders and commands like always. He even forgot that today was Mia’s birthday. With trembling fingers, I slowly typed on the screen: “Ethan, do you even remember what day today is?” The other side went dead quiet. I was probably just too exhausted; in my daze, I actually fell asleep. When I groggily woke up early the next morning, my daughter Mia was sitting on the bed, holding my phone, grinning at me excitedly: “Mommy, Daddy sent you money!” I instinctively grabbed the phone to look. Sometime in the early hours of the morning, Ethan had replied to my message: “What day is it?” “Are you out of money again? If you need cash, there’s no need to make up excuses. Just accept the transfer.” Right now, the transfer had already been accepted by my daughter. It was two dollars and fifty cents. Not even enough to buy a cup of coffee. Chapter 4 When I pushed open the conference room doors with my documents in hand, everyone had already arrived. At this moment, Chloe was sitting in the CEO’s chair. Seeing me, Chloe smiled: “Since everyone is here, let’s begin.” “Does everyone remember? Ten years ago, when my father passed away, his will explicitly stated that only the person who successfully develops the High-Sensitivity AI Robot would inherit the company.” “Today, I have successfully developed that robot.” “I couldn’t have done it without the help of my husband. I’d like to invite my husband, Ethan Sterling, to present the details of this robot to you all.” With that, Ethan walked in, wearing a sharp white suit. He opened the PowerPoint presentation and flawlessly explained the robot to the board. But the densely packed slides were entirely my hard work, accumulated drop by drop over the years. I couldn’t hold back any longer. I stepped forward, grabbed his arm, and with bloodshot eyes, roared at him: “Ethan, what the hell are you doing?!” But the next second, he forcefully shook off my hand. He turned, faced the room, and spoke in a cool, measured tone: “Everyone, I need to confess something to you all today.” “A year ago, Chloe and I successfully developed the High-Sensitivity Robot. Stella somehow found out about it and wanted me to steal the core technology and give it to her.” “But I know this is Chloe’s life’s work. I also know that only her dedication and capability make her worthy of the CEO position at Hayes Corporation.” Instantly, my ears were filled with insults and accusations directed at me. Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, there was nothing but validation and praise for Chloe. From amidst the crowd, I looked up at Ethan. Our eyes met for just a second before he hurriedly looked down and averted his gaze. For years, I had immersed myself in researching the High-Sensitivity Robot. I never hid anything about it from Ethan. He knew better than anyone what successfully developing it meant to me, and he knew exactly how much I had suffered and sacrificed for it over the years. I never expected that my trust would ultimately be so casually trampled by him, and even used as a weapon by him and another woman to smear my name. I opened my mouth, about to speak, but the next second, my phone in my pocket suddenly rang. It was my best friend. She said Mia was missing. I couldn’t care less about the meeting. I jumped up and sprinted toward the door. Ethan stepped forward and grabbed me from behind: “Stella, you owe Chloe an apology.” “Ethan, your child is missing!” I roared at the man in front of me, my eyes red. The next second, panic flashed across his face: “Lily? What happened to Lily?” Chloe stood up, took his hand, and gently reassured him: “Lily is fine. The nanny just told me she’s sleeping at home.” Instantly, Ethan let out a sigh of relief, his entire demeanor relaxing. Looking at the drastic change in the man before me, I clenched my fists, turned, and ran outside, leaving only one sentence behind: “Ethan, you don’t deserve to be a father!” As soon as I exited the building, I spotted Mia across the street. She was a complete mess, covered in dark bruises. I ran over and pulled her into a tight embrace. Through her sobs, she told me what had happened: “Mommy, Auntie took me to the amusement park. I saw the baby Daddy was holding yesterday, and I just wanted to go over and look. But while Auntie was buying me ice cream, they took me away and beat me up…” “They said I shouldn’t have been born. They said… I deserve to die.” I was just about to comfort her when a massive force yanked me up and violently pulled Mia and me apart. When I regained my senses, Mia and I were being held back by bodyguards. Ethan stood in front of me, raised his hand, and delivered a heavy slap to my daughter’s face. “Why did I ever let a disaster like you live? And now you’re trying to hurt my son? If I had known, I should have strangled you the moment you were born!” I struggled violently, desperately trying to break free from the bodyguards’ grip. When I finally broke free, a large delivery truck came speeding out of nowhere, heading straight for Ethan. And my daughter ran directly toward him. I don’t know how a five-year-old child had that much strength, but she shoved Ethan completely out of the way. “Mia!” In an instant, Mia was lying in a pool of blood. I sprinted toward her and scooped her into my arms, tears streaming down my face. Mia smiled at Ethan, who was standing frozen nearby, and whispered softly: “Daddy, if you didn’t love me, why did you have me?” Ethan stumbled forward. With red eyes, he reached out, wanting to touch Mia’s face, but I viciously slapped his hand away. Holding my daughter tightly, tears pouring down my face, I screamed at him: “Don’t touch her!” “Ethan, it’s been five years! Mia hasn’t seen you once since the day she was born!” “Yesterday was her fifth birthday. Even though it was her birthday, she prepared a gift just to meet you!” Under his stunned gaze, I took a deep breath, tilted my head back, closed my eyes, and said softly: “Ethan, from this moment on, you are dead to us. I hope we never see you again in this life.” Chapter 5 As soon as the words left my mouth, a torrential downpour began. Standing in the pouring rain, Ethan suddenly felt a profound sense of panic. The day he found out he and Stella were having a baby, it had been a stormy night exactly like this one. But back then, Stella was far away in the States, and his company was going through a massive upheaval. He just felt like everything was falling apart. He started finding fault with everything, getting sick constantly. He even entertained the thought of breaking up with Stella. And that was when Chloe Hayes appeared before him. That day, he had just gotten into a huge fight with Stella because she hadn’t replied to his message immediately. Right after he hung up the phone, Chloe showed up. After that night with Chloe, he began to despise his previously dull and flavorless life, even wishing that Stella’s child would simply never be born. But the child was innocent. What had she done wrong? These thoughts suddenly began flashing repeatedly in Ethan’s mind, and a flood of memories rushed back. Mia crying incessantly, reaching her little arms out, wanting him to hold her. And what did he do? He just turned his back, annoyed. When he video-called Stella, Mia would always lean in, calling him “Daddy” over and over. And what did he do? He didn’t even acknowledge her. Mia stumbling toward him, offering the red braided bracelet she had made herself. And what did he do? He casually swatted it away without a second thought. Thinking of this, Ethan stepped forward. Looking at me holding our daughter tightly, he spoke, his voice choking with tears: “Let me… let me hold Mia. I… I am her father.” I ignored him. I just stumbled to my feet, holding my daughter, turned around, and walked away, murmuring softly: “Mia, Mommy is taking you home.” Chloe, standing nearby, stepped forward, gently took Ethan’s hand, and said softly: “Let’s go. Let’s go home.” For the first time, Ethan shook off Chloe’s hand and followed silently behind me.

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After five years of long-distance dating, my boyfriend and I called each other every day to satisfy our physical needs. When reaching the climax, Liam would always say to me, still wanting more, “Chloe, I miss you so much I’m going crazy…” So, I booked a red-eye flight back home, secretly hiding in his closet to give him a surprise. But when the bedroom door opened, Liam carried my best friend onto our marital bed. Mia rolled over and straddled him, unbuttoning his shirt one by one while saying coquettishly, “Liam, that idiot Chloe hasn’t figured out we’re together for five years. It’s so boring.” “She’s proposed to you ninety-nine times. How about we give her a surprise at our wedding next week?” I gripped the engagement ring in my palm tightly. My mind went completely blank. I saw Liam’s hand slip under her skirt, his voice lazy. “What’s the rush? I’ve already exiled her to Northern Europe, are you still worried?” Through the wood, the obscene sounds were magnified infinitely in my ears. And I, huddled in the closet covering my mouth, felt my heart completely die. … The two on the bed were stark naked, kissing passionately. Tears smashed hard onto my phone, the screen suddenly lighting up with a text from Liam. [Chloe, let’s not just do a voice call today, how about a video call?] Mia looked at the chat box and scoffed disdainfully. “Liam, it’s one thing to let her listen when we’re doing it, but today you actually dare to do a live broadcast?” Liam, biting her bra, smiled roguishly. “Guess if she dares to answer?” Before I could react, Liam’s video call was already ringing. With trembling hands, I tapped the screen several times before finally hitting decline. One was the man who had formed a human bridge in the rubble of an earthquake, protecting me underneath him, risking his life to save me. The other was the woman who single-handedly rescued me when the school bullies wanted to slash my face. And now, they were rolling in the sheets on the bed I bought for my wedding. The visual impact was too much for me. So much so that even after they used an entire box of condoms, I still couldn’t snap out of it. Liam lit a post-coital cigarette and slowly looked towards the closet. Our eyes met. My heart felt like it was viciously squeezed by someone. The next second. Liam blew a smoke ring, raised an eyebrow, and smiled. “Chloe, do you have some kind of voyeuristic fetish? How long are you going to hide in the closet?” Mia, on the bed, turned pale and scared, diving straight under the covers. Three seconds later. I stumbled out of the closet, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “I, I originally wanted to give you a surprise…” Liam slowly sat up and deliberately blew smoke in my face. “A surprise? The text confirmation for your flight was forwarded to my phone ages ago. What surprise could there be?” He reached under Mia’s skirt and threw a wet bunny tail plug at me. “Learn a thing or two. This is what you call a surprise.” I had proposed to him ninety-nine times, trying different methods every time. Just to repay him for saving my life. But now, all my efforts had become a joke. “Why? Why are you guys doing this to me…” Seeing my confused look, Liam said indifferently, “Why? Chloe, you didn’t think you could monopolize me, did you? Don’t be so selfish.” “Besides, every time I called you, Mia would moan. Could you really not hear it?” It turned out that every moment he said he missed me, his body was in negative-distance contact with Mia. I was trembling all over, my stomach churning. Mia pulled my nightgown over herself and put it on slowly, saying with a half-smile, “Chloe, didn’t you used to say you were willing to share everything with me?” “You’re so busy with work, I kindly helped Liam solve his physical problems. Shouldn’t you thank me?” I pushed her away hard, grabbed a picture frame, and smashed it at her. “Get out! Get the hell out!” Ironically. The photo of me and Liam in the frame had actually been replaced with one of Mia in a bikini. And Liam told me every day, that when he missed me, he could only look at my photo. Turns out it was this photo he was looking at. After a gasp. Liam blocked Mia without hesitation. The picture frame hit his forehead, and blood immediately flowed down. “Chloe, stop acting crazy, okay? It’s not like I don’t want you anymore.” “It’s not my fault I’m not marrying you. Don’t you ever look in the mirror to see where you stand?” “Mia and I are just having a wedding. As long as you don’t make a fuss, our relationship will never change.” I crazily grabbed everything I could reach and threw it at them. “Relationship? What relationship? The relationship where I’m the other woman?” “Get out! You pair of cheating scumbags, get the hell out of here!” The door slammed with a deafening noise. Looking at the messy bedroom, I violently threw the engagement ring clutched in my hand out the window. Then, as if possessed, I picked up a small piece of broken glass. Just like when I was a kid, I numbly pressed it against my wrist and slashed down. Chapter 2 All the love and hate spilled out along with the blood. In my haze, I thought of that earth-shattering afternoon seven years ago. The school building collapsed, and I was trapped under concrete slabs, waiting to die in despair. But Liam frantically dug through the rubble, using his bleeding hands to pull me out bit by bit. But the aftershocks continued. When a huge boulder came crashing toward us, he threw himself on top of me without hesitation, using his back to form a human bridge for me. Debris smashed onto his head, back, and face, yet he gritted his teeth and smiled at me. “Chloe, don’t be afraid. With me here, you won’t die.” After that, he was left with a hideous scar on his back. I touched that scar with trembling fingertips, weeping uncontrollably. But he smiled like a fool. “Why are you crying? This scar is the proof of my love for you.” And in high school, when I was cornered in an alley by a few bullies. They called me a fatherless bastard and threatened to slash my foxy face with a box cutter. It was Mia who charged in single-handedly, shielded me behind her, and pointed at them fiercely. “Just try and touch her!” From that day on, Mia accompanied me to and from school. She told me with absolute seriousness, “Chloe, we’re going to be best friends for life.” Waking up in the hospital. Liam’s gaze fell on the crisscrossing scars on my wrist, and he sighed softly. “Chloe, I always thought you were a smart person.” His voice was very low, like stating a long-understood fact. “What’s wrong with staying by my side?” “You know your background; I could never accept your proposal.” “All that talk about marrying you on the ninety-ninth time… was just to humor you.” Ever since my father eloped with his mistress, my mother’s mental state has been unstable. But Liam and Mia are both from wealthy New York families. Whenever someone pointed fingers behind my back, Liam and Mia would viciously slap their faces for me. I often asked myself, what did I do to deserve such a prince and princess taking such good care of me. Liam paused for a moment, his eyes unreadable. “Chloe, what do you really want? Money? Love? Or medical resources for your mother? Or…” He leaned in close, his words as light as a blade. “Do you want me to give you a child?” Motherhood as a ticket to status is a proven method. Using all my remaining strength, I slapped him hard across the face. “I want you to get lost! Don’t ever let me see you again in this lifetime!” Liam froze for a second. He slowly touched his cheek with his long fingers, then smiled, grinding his back teeth. The hospital room door was pushed open again. Mia walked in carrying a basket of mangoes, her laughter light and deliberate. “Oh my, my good best friend, playing hard to get again?” She walked over to Liam, her eyes sliding sideways over me. “Liam got tired of that seven years ago. It’s really inappropriate to play it now.” Saying that, she started peeling a mango for me. But I’m allergic to mangoes. Mia knew this from the very first day we met. She deliberately showed off the dazzling diamond ring on her ring finger. Liam once said, he would buy his future wife the biggest, brightest diamond ring. Thinking of when I accidentally gouged a piece of flesh from my palm while personally crafting a wedding ring for Liam, a dense, fine pain flared up in my heart again. Mia handed the peeled mango to me, and I just swatted it onto the floor. The juice stained her dress. Liam’s eyes darkened instantly. “Chloe, if you have any grievances, take them out on me!” “Mia has been good enough to you! She doesn’t even mind me keeping you after we’re married! What more do you want?!” Mia looked at me aggrievedly. “Chloe, do you really need to target me like this?” I was just about to kick them out, when two trending topics popped up on my phone. The first was the joyous news of the marriage alliance between the two powerful families of Liam and Mia. But the second was the record of my relationship with Liam over the past seven years. The comment section was full of people scolding Mia for throwing her weight around and knowingly being the other woman. Liam’s usually unruly face suddenly turned dark. He squeezed a few words out through gritted teeth. “Chloe, you’re such a bitch…” Chapter 3 But I haven’t logged into any social media accounts since I woke up. Mia grabbed my wrist and roared. “Chloe! People need dignity to live, are you trying to force me to death?!” “Your life was saved by Liam, and your face was saved by me! Even your job in Northern Europe was introduced by us! Liam and I don’t ask you for anything in return, but how can you bite the hand that feeds you?!” During the struggle, the wound on my wrist split open. Drops of blood smashed onto the bedsheets. But Liam just looked at me with a disappointed gaze. I took a deep breath and spoke slowly. “It wasn’t me.” But Liam directly grabbed my phone, skillfully entering his birthday to unlock it. Then he pointed to a transfer record of ten thousand dollars and questioned me coldly. “If it’s not you, then what is this?” He didn’t know this was the medical fee I advanced for my mother’s surgery. He threw the phone at me, shielded Mia, turned around, and left. Half an hour later. Liam used his family company’s official Twitter to post his and Mia’s marriage certificate. The date was seven years ago. Which was the very day Liam and I made our relationship official. They had gone and gotten their marriage certificate. My heart ached to the point of numbness, yet I couldn’t shed a single tear. Public opinion reversed. Countless netizens cursed me for knowingly being the other woman, and even trying to sow discord between a married couple. My personal information was quickly doxxed. My work email was stuffed with abusive letters, and my social media DMs turned into a swamp of filthy insults. Even more fatally, my boss all the way in Northern Europe called to fire me directly. Liam easily crushed everything I had spent years struggling to build. And my father abandoning his wife and child back then was magnified infinitely. “Chloe’s dad didn’t want her mom, and Liam doesn’t want her either. This mother and daughter are destined to be mistresses for life!” “And she’s so smug posting chat logs, thinking that will hurt the great Miss Mia? What a clown!” “So disgusting, how do people like this still have the face to live in this world? Chloe and her mother should just go die!” My college group chat also exploded. “Wasn’t Liam’s girlfriend always Chloe? Why is the person on the marriage certificate Mia?” “You guys don’t know this, right? Actually, the person Liam has always liked is Mia. During the earthquake back then, Liam thought the person buried was Mia, that’s why he went to save her!” “So Chloe, that simp, harassed Liam for all those years? Wow, she’s been a mistress since her student days?” Seeing this message, I almost couldn’t stand up. Just as I was about to fall, Mia suddenly caught me. She looked at my deathly pale face and said with a giggling smile. “Chloe, do you know why Liam pursued you?” She lowered her voice and enunciated every word. “Because, I have a certain kink.” “Liam loves me too much, so he lowered himself to seduce you. And now, I’m bored with playing, so it’s time for you to get lost!” “Oh right, the day after tomorrow is my wedding with Liam. As my best friend, you absolutely must come.” As Mia turned to leave, she deliberately shoved a prenatal checkup report into my hand. “The crystallization of Liam and my love, four months along now.” The world crashed down around me. Liam’s past devotion, those vows that sounded better than sweet nothings. It turned out to be just a game. Liam’s call suddenly rang. But I didn’t answer. Soon he sent a text message. [Chloe, don’t believe the nonsense people in the group chat are saying. After Mia and I are married, I will give you an explanation.] I pinched my palm tightly and typed. [Every time you called me Chloe, you were actually calling out to Mia, weren’t you?] The person on the other end of the phone fell silent. The tears I had held back for so long finally fell. I don’t know how long I stood in the cold wind. I wiped my tears and dialed a long-forgotten number. “Mr. Quinn, I agree to join your Arctic project. For the three years I’m gone, please make sure to take good care of my mother.” The other party nodded crisply and responded. “No problem, I’ll send a private jet to pick up your mother right now.” As soon as the call disconnected, my mother’s caregiver called immediately. “Ms. Davis, it’s terrible, something happened to your mother!” Chapter 4 When I found my mother, she was pinned to the ground by several maids, barely clinging to life. Her back was already lacerated and bloody, yet she continued to glare fiercely at Mia. “I’m going to kill you! Kill you!” Mia had three bloody scratches on her face, clearly from my mother. She gripped the whip in her hand and said through gritted teeth, “Tomorrow is the wedding! How am I supposed to see anyone with this face?” “You old hag! There are still 99 lashes left! I’m going to beat you to death today!” Realizing what was happening, I immediately rushed forward to protect my mother. But the doctors clearly said my mother’s condition had been improving over the years. Why did she suddenly go crazy? Crack! The whip lashed fiercely across my body. I cried out in pain. Mia, however, looked down at me from above with a triumphant sneer. “Hahaha, Chloe, your mother couldn’t compete with my mother, and look now, you can’t compete with me either.” My body stiffened. “What did you say?” My gaze followed to the family portrait in her hand. My father, who had abandoned his wife and child, was lovingly holding another woman’s waist. It turned out Mia’s mother was the mistress from back then! Mia’s laughter echoed in my ears. “Serves you right. Who told your mother to call my mother a mistress back then! Now that you’ve become a real mistress, I’ve finally vented my mother’s anger!” “Let me tell you the truth, I approved the day you and Liam made your relationship official. You were willing to be a simp just because Liam treated you slightly well. Have you never been loved by anyone? Pathetic worm.” “Now, either you take these 99 lashes for this old hag, or I start a livestream right now and tell the whole world that both you and your mother are mistresses hahaha…” Every word was like a poisoned needle, piercing into my deepest wounds. Anger rushed to my head, and I charged at Mia like a madwoman. But just as my fingertips touched her sleeve, Liam’s furious voice suddenly erupted from behind. “Chloe! Don’t you dare!” He kicked me viciously aside, his eyes fixed on the sharp scissors on the ground. “Crazy! If you want to die, go die yourself! Don’t touch Mia!” Holding my bloodied mother, I wept silently. Liam paused slightly. Instinctively, he moved to help me. But Mia stumbled and threw herself into his arms, crying a river of tears. “Liam, Chloe said her mother is crazy and won’t have to pay with her life for murder!” “It doesn’t matter if something happens to me, but the baby in my belly…” The sliver of pity on Liam’s face towards me abruptly vanished. The bodyguards immediately understood, grabbed the whip from the floor, and lashed me fiercely. Agonizing pain instantly swept over my entire body. I screamed in agony. But Liam refused to spare me another glance. At that moment, my mother, who had been on her last breath, suddenly shielded me tightly in her arms. Her cloudy eyes were full of tears as she whispered in my ear, “My sweet girl, it’s Mom’s fault for being useless and letting you suffer so much. This time, let Mom protect you…” Listening to her increasingly faint breathing, I cried and begged Liam for help. “I admit my mistake, I apologize, please, I beg you, save my mom!” But no matter how much I pleaded, there was no response.

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I’m a cake decorator. One day, I received an online order from a girl who wanted me to make an “apology cake.” “Could you hide a pair of handcuffs inside the cake?” she asked. “I went to a bar last night without telling my boyfriend first. He’s upset with me. I want to make it up to him tonight.” I thought of my own fiancé, Adrian—cold and emotionally distant. We only had sex once a month and never played games like this. I couldn’t help but envy this girl a little. That evening, I delivered the cake to the address she’d given me. The moment the door opened, I froze. Standing there was my fiancé—the one who’d told me he was going back to his hometown for a relative’s funeral. Adrian. The air felt like it had been sucked out of my lungs. The cake box in my hand nearly slipped from my grasp. The shock in Adrian’s eyes lasted only half a second. The next moment, his face returned to its usual cold detachment. Ruby poked her head out from behind him, her eyes darting curiously between Adrian and me. “Babe, do you know this delivery girl? Why is she staring at you like that?” Adrian wrapped his arm around Ruby’s waist, his fingers tracing lazy circles at the small of her back. He took the cake from me, frowning slightly. “No. Never seen her before.” Ruby said “Oh” and eagerly tore open the cake box. The handcuffs I’d carefully selected tumbled out. The silver metal gleamed harshly under the entryway lights. “Wow, these look high quality!” Ruby exclaimed. She held up the handcuffs, playfully waving them near Adrian’s wrist. “Mr. Hotshot Lawyer, are you my prisoner tonight?” Adrian’s eyes held an indulgent affection I’d never seen before. I opened my mouth, my throat dry and aching. “Adrian, you—” Before I could finish, Adrian grabbed a few bills from the entryway table and tossed them at me. The money hit my face lightly before scattering at my feet. “Thanks for the delivery. That’s your tip.” His voice was cold as ice, his eyes carrying a warning. Ruby was still laughing. “Babe, you’re so generous! Come on, pick it up! That’s a few hundred dollars right there.” I bit down hard on my lower lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood. I wanted to smash that cake in his face. But I couldn’t. I thought of my brother, Cameron, still in prison, waiting for Adrian to help overturn his case. He’d been caught up in an art forgery scandal and was facing ten years. I crouched down and picked up the bills one by one. I turned and left, not even having the courage to look back. Behind me, I heard the door lock click shut. Then came Ruby’s teasing voice, dripping with pleasure. “Ooh, careful… the handcuffs are so cold…”

I returned to our cold, empty apartment. On the wall hung a photo from our engagement. In it, I smiled—gentle and compliant. Adrian was expressionless. Darkness swallowed me like a rising tide. My stomach felt like I’d swallowed lead—heavy and painfully tight. At three in the morning, I heard the electronic lock beep. Click. The living room lights blazed on. The sudden brightness stabbed at my eyes. “What are you doing sitting here in the dark like some kind of ghost?” Adrian frowned, his voice dripping with displeasure. He loosened his tie and tossed his jacket onto the couch. “Sitting there like a damn phantom. Bad luck.” He walked to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and knocked it back. “Since you already saw, I’m not going to bother hiding it anymore.” He leaned against the cabinet, his posture lazy. “Ruby’s young. She’s vibrant. Being with her, I can actually relax.” “And you…” He looked me up and down. “We’ve been together too long. So long that when I’m having sex with you, I find myself distracted, counting how many new wrinkles you’ve developed.” My nails dug into my palms as I fought to keep my voice steady. “So that’s your excuse for cheating?” “Adrian, let’s break up.” Adrian stopped mid-sip. He set down his glass and walked toward me, step by deliberate step. He bent down, hands braced on the armrests of the couch, caging me in. “Break up?” He let out a low laugh. “Summer, get your head straight.” “Cameron’s case goes to trial next week.” “All I have to do is twitch a finger, and that crucial forensic report will conveniently go missing.” His tone was gentle, but his words were vicious. My pupils constricted sharply. Rage erupted inside me like a volcano. I shot to my feet and shoved him away. “Adrian! You’re disgusting!” Adrian grabbed my chin, his thumb brushing over my lips. “Shh. Be good.” “You’ll still be Mrs. Bennett.” “I need an obedient wife to take care of the house and deal with my family.” “Men need a little excitement, you know.” I jerked my head away and dry-heaved. Adrian’s expression darkened instantly. He released me with disgust. “You’re killing the mood.” He grabbed the jacket that reeked of Ruby’s perfume and threw it over my head. “Wash this. I need it tomorrow.” “And remember to visit Cameron at the detention center tomorrow.” “Make sure you tell him his brother-in-law is working ‘day and night’ to clear his name.” “If you don’t behave, I might need to take a few days off.” With that, he turned and headed toward the bathroom. Just then, his phone on the table lit up. A message from Ruby flashed on the screen. [Adrian, you’re amazing. Does she enjoy it this much too? My legs are still shaking~] Adrian paused and glanced at the screen. Not only did he not hide it—he actually chuckled. “That girl. So naughty.” His tone was like a knife plunging into my chest. I grabbed the ashtray from the table. Adrian, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, said coolly: “Cameron’s case file is still on my desk in the study.” My hand froze mid-air. The ashtray felt impossibly heavy. Finally, I let my hand drop, and the ashtray rolled onto the carpet. Despair wrapped around my throat like vines, choking me.

Days of stress and humiliation finally broke my body. My acute gastritis flared up while I was in the kitchen preparing honey water for Cameron. A sharp pain hit me, and everything went black. When I woke up, I was on a gurney in a hospital hallway. People rushed past. The noise was deafening, like a marketplace. A nurse walked over with a cold expression and slapped a payment notice onto my blanket. “Summer Lincoln, right? Pay up now, or we’re cutting off your IV.” I pulled out my phone to transfer money, but it showed insufficient funds. Adrian had transferred all my money out of my account! With trembling hands, I dialed Adrian’s number. No answer. I called again. He hung up. My stomach throbbed with pain. I pulled the IV needle from the back of my hand and shuffled toward the payment desk, clutching my abdomen. As I passed the VIP ward section, I heard a familiar voice. “Does it hurt? Let me blow on it. There, all better.” It was Adrian’s voice. So gentle it could melt sugar. I turned stiffly and looked through the half-open door at a scene that made my chest tighten. In the spacious, luxurious single room, Ruby sat on the bed wearing a pink hospital gown. Adrian sat beside her, peeling an apple. “Babe, I’m so clumsy. I burned myself making soup.” “No more kitchen for you. Just tell me what you want—I’ll make it.” Adrian sliced a piece of apple and fed it to her. “I already had the head of the hospital call in the best surgeon for a consultation. I promise you won’t have a scar.” I shoved the door open, clutching my cramping stomach, my face deathly pale. “Adrian, what gives you the right to freeze my account?” Adrian’s hand jerked. The apple slice fell to the floor. He turned around. The moment he saw me, the warmth in his eyes turned to ice. “Are you following me?” “Summer, have you no shame? Faking illness and chasing me to the hospital to make a scene?” Ruby shrank behind Adrian with a little gasp. “Oh my God! Your face is so scary, like a ghost…” Adrian patted her hand soothingly, then turned to glare at me. “Look what you did! You scared Ruby!” “She’s already timid—she can’t handle this kind of shock!” The cramping in my stomach intensified. Cold sweat dripped down my forehead. I was doubled over in pain, gripping the doorframe just to stay upright. “Adrian, what right do you have to take my money? That was for Cameron’s legal fees!” Adrian sneered. “You’ve been a little too defiant lately. Consider this a lesson.” He shoved me aside. Already weak, I crashed hard onto the floor. My stomach hit the ground. The pain made me curl up like a shrimp. I couldn’t even scream. My vision blurred. Adrian stepped over my body and scooped Ruby into his arms. “Did you hurt your wound just now? Let’s switch rooms and have the doctor check you again.” I lay alone on the cold floor, surrounded by a crowd of onlookers. “That guy’s brutal.” “His wife’s in so much pain…” A family member from a nearby bed finally called for help. When I woke up again, I was in the emergency room. My phone held a message from Adrian. An invoice. [Ruby suffered psychological trauma from the scare. Her wound tore open again and she’s experiencing mental distress.] [VIP room fees plus emotional damages: $50,000 total.] [Deducting it from your brother’s legal fees.] Then Marcus called. He was Cameron’s gallery owner—and the only friend who knew what I was going through. “Summer, we have a problem.” Marcus’s voice was urgent. “Cameron’s forensic report came back, but… Adrian’s withholding it unilaterally.” “He says it needs re-examination and can’t be submitted to the court yet.” “If we don’t get the original by tomorrow morning, Cameron’s going to be taken into custody.” My phone slipped from my hand.

I yanked the IV from my arm. Blood backflowed, staining half my hand red. I took a cab through the pouring rain to Adrian’s private villa. Adrian was celebrating Ruby’s birthday there tonight. The forensic report was in the study. I was soaked to the bone, looking like a beggar as I burst into the villa. The main hall was ablaze with lights, music pounding loud enough to hurt. A crowd of well-dressed men and women were partying. At the center were Adrian and Ruby. Ruby wore a pristine white evening gown, nestled in Adrian’s arms. It was the dress I’d worn at our wedding reception. “Adrian and Ruby are such a perfect match!” “That Summer Lincoln is nothing.” Adrian stroked Ruby’s hair affectionately. I stood in the doorway, rainwater dripping from my hair onto the carpet. “Adrian. Give me the report.” My voice wasn’t loud, but in the brief pause between songs, it rang clearly through the hall. Everyone turned to look at me. Their eyes glittered with anticipation, eager for the drama. Adrian swirled his wine glass lazily, looking down at me. “Summer, you’re getting more and more out of line.” “This is Ruby’s birthday party. Why are you dressed like you’re attending a funeral?” Ruby lifted her skirt and walked over, covering her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh, don’t be mad! I just thought this wedding dress was so beautiful—I wanted to try it on.” “Adrian said I look way better in it than you do. Why don’t you just give it to me?” I stared hard at Adrian. “I just want the report. Keep the dress. Keep Adrian. I don’t want any of it.” Adrian’s expression darkened instantly. He slammed his glass down on the table and pointed at the broken glass scattered on the floor. Someone had knocked over a champagne tower earlier. “You want the report? Fine.” “Crawl over here on your knees. Hold up Ruby’s train so the dirty glass doesn’t stain her wedding dress.” “If you make her happy, I’ll give you the report.” The room fell silent. Then erupted in even louder laughter. “Crawl! For your brother, what’s a little crawling?” “Adrian really knows how to have fun!” I looked at the sea of broken glass, the sharp edges glinting coldly. Then I looked at Adrian’s emotionless face. For Cameron. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and dropped to my knees. The moment my knees touched the glass, searing pain shot through me. Blood instantly stained the white carpet. I bit down hard and crawled forward, one agonizing movement at a time. Every inch I crawled left a trail of blood behind me. The room filled with jeers and whistles. I crawled to Ruby’s feet and lifted her train with shaking hands. Adrian watched the scene, a flicker of something complicated crossing his eyes—but it was quickly replaced by satisfaction. He pulled an envelope from his jacket and tossed it in front of me. “Take it. That’s what you wanted.” I grabbed it like a lifeline, my hands trembling as I opened it. But the moment I saw what was inside, my blood ran cold. This wasn’t the forensic report. It was a confession letter! Written in a forgery of Cameron’s handwriting, admitting to all charges! “Adrian…” I looked up at him, rage blazing in my eyes. Adrian smiled lightly. “Cameron entered the same national competition that Ruby competed in. I think this confession suits him better.” “I’ll help him get a reduced sentence. He’ll only have to serve three to five years.” Ruby crouched in front of me innocently, her big eyes blinking. “Sorry, sis. I made a bet with my friends that I’d win that competition. Your brother’s just going to have to stay inside for a while.” Every shred of sanity I had left shattered in that moment. I grabbed a steak knife from the table and lunged at Ruby. Ruby stumbled backward in panic. “Help! She’s trying to kill me!” She flailed wildly, knocking over a massive candelabra on the table. The burning candles rolled off and ignited the flammable drapes. Flames shot up, racing along the carpet. “Fire! Run!” The crowd screamed and scattered. The fire spread with terrifying speed, thick smoke billowing everywhere. Adrian’s face changed. Without hesitation, he scooped Ruby into his arms. “Ruby, don’t be scared. I’ll get you out!” He charged toward the door. On his way, he kicked over a storage shelf that was blocking the path. The heavy wooden frame crashed down and pinned both my legs. Crack. The sound of bones snapping. I screamed. I was trapped. Through the flames, I watched Adrian carry Ruby out the front door. Smoke choked my lungs. My chest burned. The temperature around me climbed higher. My skin began to blister. I looked down at the fake confession in my hand, pulled out a lighter, and set it on fire. The flames reflected in my tear-filled eyes. If I’m going to die, I’ll die completely. A massive explosion shook the villa. Everything went dark.

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