Category: English

Right after I found out I was pregnant, my husband’s first love—the woman he had pined for over ten years—returned to the country. He didn’t hesitate for a second. He threw a divorce agreement on the table and demanded I sign. I walked away with absolutely nothing. I secretly gave birth to my daughter, assuming our lives would never cross paths again. Until five years later. Desperate to scrape together enough money for my daughter’s life-saving surgery, I took a job as an escort at an underground VIP nightclub. When we met again, he was sitting in the center booth, surrounded by men treating him like royalty. One of his rich friends pointed a cigar at my heavily made-up face and laughed maliciously. “Declan, this one’s gorgeous. Mind if I drag her to the bathroom for a quick spin?” Declan slowly lifted his eyes. His cold gaze locked onto my face. He let out a low, mocking chuckle, reached into his pocket, and tossed a foil packet onto the glass table. “Be my guest. Just make sure you use that. You don’t want to catch whatever diseases she has.” … I forced my hips to sway as I walked over and picked the foil packet off the glass. Then, moving smoothly, I dropped to my knees right beside Declan’s tailored suit pants. I tilted my head up, forcing my voice to sound sickeningly sweet. “Thank you for the gift, Mr. Molesley.” “You’re so generous. As long as the price is right, I can belong to anyone tonight.” Someone in the booth whistled sharply, laughing. “Damn, Declan, your ex-wife knows how to play the game!” “No kidding. She’s way looser than the professionals we usually hire. I bet she’s a wild ride.” Declan’s friend grinned, leaning over and gripping my arm tightly, hauling me to my feet. “Come on, sweetheart. Let me show you a good time!” Every alarm bell in my head was screaming, but I didn’t dare fight back. This was their territory. I kept a frozen smile on my face as he half-dragged, half-carried me toward the private restrooms down the hall. I threw a desperate look back over my shoulder at Declan. He sat perfectly still, his face an emotionless mask, slowly lighting a cigarette. He didn’t lift a finger to stop it. The second we hit the bathroom doorway, the rich kid’s hands started aggressively wandering, his breath reeking of expensive liquor. “Stop playing hard to get, beautiful. Declan threw you away like trash. Who are you putting on this act for?” “Let me take care of you, and I’ll make sure you never have to work a day in your life.” The sheer terror in my eyes finally broke through my makeup. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted an empty whiskey bottle resting on the sink counter. Using every ounce of adrenaline in my body, I grabbed it by the neck and smashed it down onto his wrist. He howled in agony, his grip loosening just enough. I shoved him backward and ran for my life, tearing back down the hallway in a blind panic. I crashed headfirst into a solid, unmoving chest. Gasping for air, I looked up. I was staring straight into Declan’s icy, calculating eyes. He wasn’t angry. Instead, he looked down at me, the corner of his mouth lifting in a cruel, amused smirk as he took in my disheveled, terrified state. “What’s wrong?” “Did you price yourself out of the market?” The men who had followed him out into the hall started jeering. “What’s the matter, Stella? Was his offer too low? Come on, give us a number!” Declan’s voice cut through the noise, dropping the temperature in the room. “Or maybe he just wasn’t enough man for you. You want me to take you for a test drive instead?” Instead of breaking down under the humiliation, I leaned into the madness. I dropped to my knees right on the sticky club floor, landing back at his feet. I reached out, my trembling fingers grazing the hem of his trousers, and offered him the most broken, wretched smile I could muster. “You’re too funny, Mr. Molesley. Of course I’d rather have you take me for a test drive.” “It’s just… his offer was insulting.” “You know me. I’m incredible in bed, but my rates are steep.” “If the price is right, you don’t even need to test drive me. You can break me.” The mockery in his eyes darkened into something violent. He pulled his leather wallet from his jacket, pulled out a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills, and violently slapped the entire stack directly across my face. His voice was pure venom. “You want to negotiate? Fine.” “Two grand for every slap.” “How much can you take?” I needed twenty thousand dollars to hit the hospital’s account by tomorrow morning, or my daughter would be taken off life support. Without a second of hesitation, I nodded. My cheek was stinging, but I kept the smile plastered on. “I can take it. Keep them coming. Thank you, Mr. Molesley.” He raised his hand. He didn’t hold back. The first strike connected with a sickening crack. My left ear instantly started ringing in a high-pitched whine. “That’s for insulting my friend.” The second strike snapped my head to the side. “That’s to remind you of your place.” The men in the hallway watched with morbid fascination. I saw camera flashes going off as they recorded the spectacle. Surrounded by a crowd of laughing billionaires, I stayed on my knees, smiling through split lips, taking over a dozen full-force slaps without making a single sound. My cheeks swelled grotesquely, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, dripping down my chin. Eventually, he grew bored. He lowered his hand, his chest heaving slightly. He pulled a pristine white handkerchief from his breast pocket and meticulously wiped the hand he had used to beat me, pressing hard into the skin. As if he had just touched raw sewage. He dropped the soiled cloth onto my battered face. His voice was a quiet, devastating sneer. “The old Mrs. Molesley used to be so high and mighty, completely untouchable. Look at you now. You’re cheaper than a stray dog.” I scrambled to pick up the scattered bills off the floor, swallowing the blood pooling in my mouth to force out a laugh. “You’re absolutely right, sir. But a stray dog doesn’t know how to beg for cash the way I do, does she?” Clutching the thick wad of life-saving cash to my chest, I ignored the throbbing agony in my skull and practically crawled my way out of the club, stumbling into the night air. As the heavy doors swung shut behind me, I faintly heard a woman’s soft, elegant voice calling his name from down the hall. It was the voice he had always loved. The gentleness that used to be mine, but never would be again. In the dingy employee locker room, I stood over the rusted sink, desperately splashing freezing water onto my destroyed face. The woman in the cracked mirror had bruised, swollen cheeks and a busted lip, but her eyes were burning with a terrifying, feral light. I gripped the wet cash in my fist. There was only one thought keeping me breathing. If it meant saving my daughter, I wouldn’t just become a dog. I would become a monster. And I would do it gladly. 2 The moment I pushed through the back doors of the nightclub, my phone began vibrating violently in my cheap purse. It was the hospital. “Are you the mother of the patient in bed 23? The child’s vitals just crashed. She needs emergency surgery right now. We need you here to sign the consent forms! We’ve been trying to reach you!” The nurse’s voice was cracking with panic. “If you don’t get here in the next ten minutes, we’re going to lose her!” An icy fist seized my heart, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. A torrential downpour had hit the city. I stood on the curb, instantly soaked to the bone by the freezing rain, frantically waving at empty cabs that sped right past me. Panic clawed at my throat. I was seconds away from throwing myself in front of moving traffic just to force a car to stop. Suddenly, a massive black SUV swerved aggressively through the puddle in front of me, throwing a wave of dirty water over my legs, and slammed on the brakes. The tinted window hummed downward, revealing Declan’s handsome, shadow-drenched face. Bathed in the warm, ambient light of the luxury interior, Serena—his untouchable first love—was leaning intimately against his shoulder. When she saw me standing in the storm looking like a drowned rat, a flash of vicious triumph flickered in her eyes. It vanished instantly, replaced by a mask of angelic, heartbreaking pity. She reached out, gently tugging at Declan’s suit sleeve, her voice trembling with manufactured concern. “Declan, isn’t that… Stella? What is she doing out here? Look at her, she’s freezing. And her face… it’s awful.” She paused perfectly, letting her voice drop into a conspiratorial whisper. “I heard some rumors recently… people are saying she got mixed up with some lowlife guy. He doesn’t work, and he’s deep in debt to loan sharks. You don’t think she’s running out in the middle of a storm to give him the money you just threw at her, do you? Declan, that cash you gave her…” It was a masterclass in manipulation. She knew exactly which buttons to press to trigger his deepest insecurities and rage. Declan’s face instantly hardened into a mask of pure, lethal fury. He turned to look at the “fragile” woman clinging to him, his expression softening for a fraction of a second, before barking a cold order at his driver. “Take Serena home first.” Mission accomplished. Serena offered a meek, obedient nod, but right before the tinted glass rolled up, she shot me a look of pure, unadulterated victory. The heavy SUV peeled away into the storm, abandoning me on the sidewalk. I let out a ragged breath of relief, thinking the nightmare was over, and sprinted down the block trying to flag down another taxi. But less than five minutes later, the black SUV came roaring back up the street, performing a violent, screeching U-turn and slamming to a halt inches from my knees. The rear door was kicked open from the inside. Declan stepped out into the pouring rain alone. He had ripped off his tie. He stalked toward me, the violence in his eyes completely unhinged. He hated the idea that I was degrading myself to fund another man’s life. But he hated it even more that I dared to look so utterly broken and desperate in front of him. “In a rush to go bail out your deadbeat boyfriend?” He lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of my soaking wet hair, and brutally slammed me backward against the cold metal hood of the car. The rain battered against my swollen face. “Drop the innocent martyr act!” His breath was hot against my ear, his voice a low, terrifying growl. “Are you really that desperate for a man, Stella?” “Five grand. Right here on the hood of the car. Are you taking it or not?” Without Serena there to perform for, his cruelty became visceral and completely unrestrained. Hearing the dollar amount, my desperate thrashing froze for a split second. I turned my head. Rain and tears tracked through the drying blood on my face as I forced out a grotesque, hollow smile. “Only five?” “You’re insulting me, Declan.” I forced my chest upward, leaning into the degradation. “What’s wrong? Your precious first love just left and you’re already starved for attention?” “Makes sense. I’ve always been a much better ride than her anyway.” That was the final match in the powder keg. The last thread of his sanity snapped. His hand shot to my throat, his fingers tightening like a steel vice, threatening to crush my windpipe. As his vision narrowed in blind rage, I seized my chance. I brought my hand up and dragged my jagged fingernails violently down the side of his neck, leaving three deep, bleeding gashes. I screamed, my voice tearing my vocal cords. “You’re going to rot in hell for this, Declan!” 3 The stinging pain on his neck obliterated whatever was left of his self-control. His eyes went dead. He yanked the heavy car door open and threw me into the back seat like a bag of garbage. He slammed the door, the electronic locks clicking shut with a heavy thud, and shouted at the driver through the partition. “Drive. Take us to the cliffside estate.” I knew I had pushed too far. I thought antagonizing him would make him disgusted enough to throw me back onto the street. Instead, I had trapped myself. As the car accelerated, pulling me further and further away from the hospital, I dropped to my knees on the floorboards. I didn’t care about my pride anymore. I threw my upper body forward, slamming my forehead against the expensive leather of his seat. The dull thud echoed in the quiet cabin. “Declan, I’m begging you. I was wrong!” “I have an emergency! Someone is going to die!” “Just let me go to this one place! Just this one place!” “Once I’m done, I’ll come right back to you! You can kill me for all I care, just let me go!” He stared down at me, his eyes entirely devoid of humanity. He was getting high off the absolute power he held over my suffering. “Your life is worthless.” He casually adjusted his cuffs, entirely unbothered by my screaming. “I just wanted to see you crawling on your knees like a dog. It’s incredibly entertaining.” In his warped mind, my total breakdown was just a theatrical performance to get back to my imaginary lover. “What’s the matter? Your little toy boy taking his last breath?” “Is he really worth throwing away your last shred of dignity for?” At that exact second, my phone started vibrating violently in my wet pocket. In the dim light of the backseat, the bright screen illuminated the interior. The caller ID flashed in massive, bold letters: “City Gen – Pediatric ICU.” It was the lifeline. The only hope my daughter had left. I let out a choked sob and threw myself at my pocket, clawing desperately for the phone. But Declan was faster. He snatched the device out of my hand. He glanced at the caller ID, and the cruel smirk on his face deepened. “City Gen Pediatric ICU?” He read the words aloud like the punchline to a pathetic joke. “You changed your boyfriend’s contact name, and you actually hired someone to call you? You went through all this effort just to trick me into letting you out of this car?” “Wow, Stella. Let’s see how deep your commitment to this little play goes.” Right in front of my horrified eyes, he swiped to answer the call. And just to twist the knife, he put it on speaker. Dr. Harrison’s voice ripped through the speakers, his usual calm demeanor completely shattered. “Stella! Where the hell are you?! The child’s heart rate is plunging! I need you here to sign off on the bypass right now! Every second you’re not here, she is slipping away!” It was the sound of the grim reaper standing over my baby’s bed. Hearing that voice, my organs felt like they were liquefying. I threw myself over the center console, screaming at the top of my lungs. “Doctor! Save her! I’m coming—” Declan’s large hand clamped brutally over my mouth, cutting off my scream, as he forced me back down against the seat. He leaned toward the phone. His voice was casual, bored, without a single drop of empathy. “She’s busy.” The doctor froze for a second. “Who is this? The patient is coding…” Declan let out a harsh laugh, cutting the doctor off mid-sentence. “Save the script. I’ve seen better acting in soap operas. Tell the kid to stop playing dead. It’s not going to work.” “If she wants to pull the plug, let her. Deal with it yourselves.” He didn’t wait for a response. His thumb hit the red button, killing the call. Then, he rolled down the tinted window. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed my phone—my only connection to my dying child—out the window and into the black abyss of the highway overpass. I stared blankly at the window. I watched the tiny, glowing rectangle vanish into the rain. It felt as though I was watching the monitor tracking my daughter’s heartbeat flatline in real time. A sound tore out of my throat—a guttural, inhuman shriek of pure agony. I lost my mind. I threw myself at him, snapping my teeth, trying to rip out his throat. He backhanded me so hard my vision flashed white, and I collapsed against the far door. My ears rang violently. The car tore through the rain, heading into the mountains, leaving the hospital miles behind us. I curled into a tight, trembling ball on the floorboards, clutching my chest as the invisible blades shredded my heart into ribbons. I could feel it in my bones. The most important piece of my soul was fading away into the dark. When we reached the isolated estate, he dragged my limp body into a guest room and threw me onto the rug like a corpse. The heavy oak door slammed shut, and the lock clicked into place. “You’re not leaving this room tonight.” His voice bled through the wood, cold and absolute. “Spend the night figuring out how to properly get on your knees and beg.” 4 The next morning, I lay paralyzed on the cold carpet. My eyes were wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling, completely dead inside. The extreme trauma and grief had triggered a violent physical response. My body began to convulse, burning with a terrifyingly high fever. Declan unlocked the door, intending to continue his psychological torture. But when he saw me, he froze. My lips were cracked and bleeding, my skin the color of ash. He reached down to touch my forehead. The blistering heat radiating from my skin made him snatch his hand back like he’d been burned. He let out a frustrated breath, cursing under his breath. “Damn it.” “Who are you pretending to die for? Don’t do it in my house. It’s disgusting.” Despite the venom in his words, he bent down, scooped my shaking body into his arms, and carried me to the car, speeding toward the nearest hospital. By pure, horrific coincidence, the closest emergency room was City General. In the passenger seat, I was drifting in and out of consciousness. But my cracked lips kept moving, chanting the same broken prayer over and over. “Too late… I’m too late… My Penny…” Declan gripped the steering wheel, sneering. “Still acting? You never quit, do you?” When I finally woke up from the IV drip in the ER, the overwhelming stench of bleach and iodine slammed into my senses, dragging me out of the darkness. My eyes snapped open. My heart hammered against my ribs—the terrifying, biological alarm of a mother who knew her child was gone. I ripped the IV out of my arm, ignoring the blood running down my hand, and tried to bolt for the door to find my daughter. Declan stepped into the room and grabbed my wrist, crushing it in his grip. He glared down at me, unleashing a barrage of insults. “Are you out of your mind? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” “Still trying to run back to your pathetic loser boyfriend?” “You collapsing in my house forced me to bring you here. Serena found out. She thinks you’re putting on this sick little show to seduce me! She’s locked in her room crying right now!” “Get up. You’re coming with me to apologize to her. You’re going to get on your knees and explain everything.” The roaring in my ears drowned out his psychotic rambling. I didn’t care about him. I didn’t care about his precious Serena. I wanted my baby. With a surge of hysterical strength, I shoved him backward. I didn’t even stop to put my shoes on. Barefoot, I sprinted down the linoleum hallway toward the Pediatric ICU. “Have you lost your damn mind?! Come back here!” Declan’s furious shouts echoed behind me, but I didn’t look back. I crashed through the double doors of the ICU wing and sprinted to Bed 23. A nurse was quietly stripping the sheets off an empty mattress. That bed. I had spent months sleeping in a plastic chair next to that bed. I lunged forward, grabbing the nurse’s arm with a grip like a vise. My entire body was shaking so violently my teeth rattled. “Excuse me… where is the girl from Bed 23?” “Where is my baby?” The nurse turned. When she recognized my face, her eyes filled with a heavy, devastating sorrow. “You’re the mother?” “I am so sorry. We did absolutely everything we could.” “At 2 AM last night, she went into multi-organ failure. We desperately needed you to sign the authorization for the bypass.” She let out a shaky sigh. “We called you dozens of times. It just kept going to voicemail.” “Right before she passed, she kept crying out for you… There was nothing more we could do.” “She’s gone. Transport just took her down to the morgue.” Last night. 2 AM. The exact moment he ripped the phone out of my hand and threw it off the bridge. The exact moment he locked me in a dark room and smothered my only hope of saving her. A sickening, metallic warmth surged up my throat. I couldn’t hold it back. I violently coughed, and a spray of dark blood erupted from my lips, splattering across the pristine white tiles of the hospital floor. Declan finally caught up to me. Seeing the blood dripping from my chin, the rage vanished from his face, replaced by sudden shock. He opened his mouth, stepping forward to say something. I slowly turned to face him. My face was smeared with my own blood, but the corners of my mouth stretched upward into a smile so twisted, so completely broken, it barely looked human. I stared right through him, forcing the words out of my ruined throat. “Declan. Congratulations.” He froze, his eyes widening. I enunciated every single syllable. “You personally killed your own biological daughter.”

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A trip to the mountains with my husband and best friend. Then the blizzard hit. Now, we’re trapped. The three of us were snowed in. My best friend, Zoe, suggested she and my husband, Mark, go out to find supplies, leaving me to rest in our rented cabin with a raging fever. I don’t know how much time passed before a frantic pounding rattled the door. Mark’s voice, raw with panic and pain, tore through the wood. “Ava! Open the door, please! Zoe’s lost it! She went crazy over the supplies, she… she cut me!” Just then, a text from Zoe lit up my phone. “Ava, run! Don’t you dare open that door! Mark is trying to kill us! I’m hiding outside, don’t trust a word he says!” I stared at the two conflicting messages, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin. The first time this happened, I chose to trust Zoe. I didn’t open the door. In the end, Zoe hacked Mark to death with an axe, then broke into the cabin and strangled the life out of me. The second time, I chose to trust Mark. The moment I unlatched the door, he burst in, his eyes wild with madness, and stabbed me until I bled out on the floor. No matter who I chose, the outcome was always the same: death. And I never understood why. Why did they have to kill me? When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very same day. This time, I would find the truth. 1 I snapped back to reality, my hand hovering over the doorknob. I snatched it back as if the metal were white-hot. The ghosts of my two previous deaths were still fresh, a chilling dread coiling in my gut. Hearing my silence, Mark began to hammer on the door with more force. “Ava, hurry! You have to let me in before she gets back! If she finds us together, we’re both dead!” My phone buzzed again. It was Zoe, calling me. Her voice was a ragged whisper. “Ava! Don’t open that door! He’s lying! Think about it—Mark’s a gym rat. How could I possibly overpower him?” “Besides,” she continued, her logic sharp despite her panicked tone, “if I was the one who hurt him, wouldn’t I have gotten back here first? Why did he, the injured one, beat me to the cabin?” From outside, Mark must have heard her voice. His own tone shifted, laced with suspicion. “Ava, who are you talking to?” “Don’t listen to her, Ava! Zoe planned this! She had a fruit knife hidden on her. She told me to scout ahead, then attacked me from behind when my back was turned! I tried to fight her off, but it was too late. My arm is bleeding, and in this blizzard… if I didn’t run, I’d have frozen to death out there with her! I broke free and ran straight back to you!” His performance was drenched in sincerity. I fought against the fog of my fever, my eyes landing on the heavy wooden cabinet in the corner. With a surge of adrenaline, I pushed it against the door, barricading us in. Mark heard the scraping sound and his voice grew frantic. “Ava, what are you doing? Don’t you believe me? Open the door! I’m losing a lot of blood. If I don’t get warm soon, I’m not going to make it! And if something happens to me, you’ll be all alone when she gets here!” When I still didn’t answer, his voice cracked with desperation. “Look! I’ll prove it! I really am hurt!” A pained grunt followed, and then his voice turned weak. “I’m sliding a piece of cloth under the door. It’s soaked in my blood.” “It’s so cold… I was afraid the wound would get infected, so I ripped off a piece of my shirt to wrap it. It’s the only reason I made it back.” I knelt down and picked up the bloody strip of fabric. The coppery tang of blood filled the air, a stark reminder of the danger I was in. He was telling the truth. He was hurt. Just then, another text from Zoe appeared. Ava, he’s tricking you! Look closely at that scrap of fabric. It’s not from his shirt! 2 I rubbed my throbbing temples. She was right. The color and texture of the cloth didn’t match the flannel shirt Mark was wearing. My fever was making it impossible to think clearly. I could only hope their words would reveal the truth. Zoe’s next text came through: Mark wants to kill us to buy himself more time until rescue arrives! He’s the one who tried to hoard the supplies, and now he wants to use us as an emergency food source! A picture followed the text. In it, Zoe’s face was deathly pale. A long, gruesome gash ran across her stomach, the ripped fabric of her parka visible beside it. I didn’t want to worry you, so I didn’t say anything before. This is what he did to me. I was lucky I reacted fast enough to get away. If I hadn’t, I’d be dead. A jolt went through me. She had been my friend for over a decade; my instinct was to worry. Are you okay? I typed back. I’ve patched it up. Don’t worry about me. Now do you believe me? I stared at the photo of the wound, my throat dry. “Send me a video,” I said out loud, as if she could hear me. A photo could be faked. After a moment of silence, a video file appeared. I played it. Zoe, looking exhausted, held up the camera and gave me a grim middle finger. The gash on her stomach was still weeping blood. It looked real. She was definitely hurt. But… I frowned, then carefully lowered myself to the floor, pressing my cheek against the cold wood to peek through the crack beneath the door. The moment I did, a single, bloodshot eye stared right back at me. A short, strangled scream escaped my lips before I clamped my hand over my mouth. “Sorry, Ava, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Mark’s voice came, feigning concern. “You were so quiet, I was worried you’d passed out from the fever.” But the pounding on the door intensified, turning from desperate knocks into violent blows. I scrambled backward, my heart hammering against my ribs, my body slick with cold sweat. The look in Mark’s eye hadn’t been concern. It was the look of a man lost in the desert who’d just stumbled upon an oasis. It was pure, ravenous craving. We were in a tough spot, sure, but we weren’t desperate enough for… cannibalism, were we? What bothered me more was what I’d seen in that brief glimpse. There were indeed drops of blood staining the snow where he knelt. The cotton stuffing was spilling from a tear in his jacket. He hadn’t been lying about that. His voice turned into a pathetic plea. “Ava, please, let me in! I’m so cold… I think I’m getting hypothermia…” His words were faint, but I held my ground. “If you’re telling the truth,” I challenged, “then why isn’t Zoe back yet? It’s been ages.” Mark let out a series of weak coughs. “Did you forget? Zoe has a terrible sense of direction! Without me to guide her, she’s probably wandering in circles right now. If you don’t open this door, she’ll eventually find her way back. She has a weapon, and I’m too weak to fight. We’ll both be finished! I… I don’t have much strength left…” 3 I slapped my forehead, cursing the fever that was clouding my judgment. He was right. Zoe couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag. It’s why she’d insisted Mark go with her instead of them splitting up to search. Just then, a video call from Zoe came through. I hesitated for a second before answering. On the screen, her face was a ghostly white, her lips chapped and dry. Her voice was a hoarse, urgent whisper. “He’s lying! I know my sense of direction is crap, but the ground is covered in fresh snow! He ran off in a panic. All I have to do is follow his footprints! How could I possibly get lost?” “Ava, I’m begging you, don’t open that door! That bloody cloth he gave you? It’s from my jacket! I tore his when I was fighting him off. He’s the one who’s lost his mind, Ava. I don’t dare come back to the cabin. I found a small cave to hide in. I’m trying to call for help. Don’t let him in! Whatever you do, protect yourself!” “You have to wait for me!” She spoke with such intensity that her features seemed to strain with the effort. Her words sent a fresh wave of fear through me, and I backed away from the door, tears welling in my eyes. I grabbed a thick fireplace poker, the only weapon I could find. It wasn’t much, but it was something. My only real hope was that the old wooden door was strong enough to hold. Zoe’s face was ashen. “The knife is in his hand,” she said, her voice dropping lower. “He didn’t tell you that because he’s planning on using it the second you open the door.” When I didn’t respond, she quickly sent another video. This one showed Mark, a vicious sneer on his face, slamming his body against the door while clutching a small, gleaming knife. The sounds in the video perfectly matched the violent thuds coming from outside. My heart plummeted into my stomach. My head felt like it was about to split open. Mark, sensing my hesitation was gone, changed his tone again. It was now laced with a desperate, trembling sincerity. “Ava, don’t believe her! Please! Just open the door a crack. You’ll see.” After a moment’s thought, I cautiously slid the cabinet aside and opened the door just wide enough to peer through with one eye. Mark’s face was pale, his eyebrows frosted with ice. He held up his hands to show they were empty, even turning his pockets inside out. There was no knife. He looked like he was on the verge of collapsing. He offered me a weak, painful smile. “Ava, I’m sending you a video. If you still don’t believe me after this, then… then I guess we’re all going to die here.” A video appeared on my phone. The footage was shaky, clearly filmed by someone terrified. It showed Zoe, a wild look in her eyes, holding a bag of supplies in one hand and a small knife in the other. “See?” Mark whispered from outside. “I risked my life to get proof. I knew you two were close. I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me.” On my other phone, Zoe’s voice rose in panic. “No! Don’t listen to him!” “Ava, look at his throat! Is he swallowing over and over again?” “Mark learned some sideshow tricks when he was younger. That knife isn’t big. He’s hiding it in his throat!” My face paled. Every second I wasted was a second closer to disaster. Forcing myself to stay calm, I peered through the crack again. “Open your mouth,” I demanded. Mark let out a bitter laugh, already slumping against the doorframe. From the phone, Zoe screamed, “Ava! Barricade the door! Now!” Her terror was contagious. I slammed the door shut and shoved the cabinet back into place. At that exact moment, a blood-curdling scream erupted from Zoe’s end of the line, and the call abruptly cut out. Simultaneously, a heart-wrenching cry of anguish came from Mark outside the door. “She’s here!” he yelled. “Zoe found me!” A blurry photo hit my screen, clearly taken in a panic. A woman, her face a mask of rage, was charging at him with an axe. It was blurry, but I could still make out her features. It was Zoe. Mark hammered on the door, his fear palpable. When I still didn’t move, his voice broke into a bitter laugh. “It’s okay, honey. You don’t have to open it. I’m done for anyway. I’m going to charge her, try to buy you some time. When you see an opening, you run!” A guttural roar followed, then the sounds of a struggle—heavy footsteps in the snow, grunts of effort, the clash of something heavy. Tears streamed down my face. I thought of all the happy times we’d shared, unable to comprehend how everything had gone so horribly wrong. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t face it. I gripped the poker, my hand trembling. I would open the door. To hell with it. We would all die together. In my panic, the phone slipped from my grasp, clattering to the floor. The last video Zoe had sent me flickered on the screen. My eyes locked onto a corner of the frame, and suddenly, everything clicked. The memories of my past lives, the lingering doubts—they all crashed together in my mind. My pupils shrank to pinpricks. A chill colder than the blizzard outside washed over me. Of course. That’s what this was all about.

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Right before I was supposed to meet my online boyfriend in person, my best friend tried her hardest to talk me out of it. I had just blocked and deleted his contact when a floating chat feed suddenly materialized in my line of sight: [Wow, she really fits the ruthless female lead trope. The first thing she does after being reborn is steal her bestie’s billionaire boyfriend. Hilarious!] [The side character is so dumb. One little guilt trip and she deletes her multi-billionaire boyfriend. No wonder she’s just a stepping stone.] [But the female lead isn’t the one who actually chatted with him. What if she gets exposed?] [Relax! Our girl has the looks and the manipulation skills to play that pure-hearted rich boy like a fiddle. Just watch.] While I was still reeling from shock, Harper was still playing the role of the caring friend, her tone full of fake concern. “Amanda, you never know who you’re talking to on the internet. He could be a creep. Deleting him was the right call.” I slowly snapped back to reality and nodded. “Yeah. You make a good point.” 1 Even though I had seemingly blocked and deleted the “male lead”, Harper still wasn’t completely at ease. She probed further, her eyes searching my face. “Amanda, you didn’t send him your pictures, your phone number, or anything that could reveal your real identity, right?” I smiled and shook my head. “I’m not that stupid.” A flash of secret delight crossed Harper’s eyes, though she kept her voice sounding like a wise older sister. “Good. You have to protect your privacy online. Never hand out your personal info to strangers.” I nodded vigorously. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not some naive college freshman anymore. I’ve been in the real world for over a year now. I know how to read people.” Harper stifled a laugh and teased. “Right, right. You’re a seasoned veteran now. So cunning.” I pretended not to catch the dripping sarcasm in her voice and lifted my chin proudly. “Obviously!” Harper secretly rolled her eyes, then faked a yawn. “Amanda, I have my part-time shift tomorrow. I’m going to crash. You should get some sleep too. Night.” I smiled back. “Night.” [The side character is painfully stupid. Getting sold out by the female lead and still counting the cash for her. Hopeless!] [Yeah, but I’m still worried the female lead might blow her cover.] [Don’t stress. She’s a top-tier actress and came fully prepared. She won’t slip up.] [Plus, the female lead is an absolute bombshell with killer curves. Way more seductive than this plain-jane sweet girl. Even if the guy finds out the truth later, he’ll just be glad he ended up with the hot one.] [True that!] [Am I the only one who thinks what the female lead is doing is highly immoral?] [The author literally tagged this as a toxic, selfish female lead story. If you want a saint, go read something else!] I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the floating text. Seriously? Who actively roots for a homewrecker? 2 Once Harper’s bedroom door clicked shut, I casually strolled back into my own room. I pulled out my phone and unblocked my online boyfriend, adding him right back on a different messaging app. I hadn’t given him my phone number, but I definitely had his. [Holy crap! The side character kept a backup plan!] [Why did she lie to the female lead? Did she catch onto her scheme?] [Not necessarily. Maybe she just got annoyed with the nagging and pretended to delete the guy to shut her up.] [Fingers crossed.] [It doesn’t matter why she lied. What matters is that the female lead has no idea she’s been played!] [Stay calm, the female lead will figure it out. There has to be a plot twist!] A plot twist? We’ll see about that. My boyfriend hadn’t messaged me during that brief window, so he remained blissfully unaware that he had ever been blocked. I slipped into the white dress I had bought specifically for our meetup. I took several selfies, carefully cropping them to only show everything below the bridge of my nose. I picked the most flattering shot and sent it to the contact named “Rowan”. I typed out a quick message: Don’t mistake me for someone else tomorrow, handsome. He replied almost instantly. Rowan: Wouldn’t dream of it! Rowan: You look gorgeous, babe. [Drooling emoji] Amanda: Good to know. Rowan: Your lips are incredible. Can I kiss them tomorrow? The chat feed wasn’t entirely wrong. My overall vibe was sweet and girl-next-door, lacking Harper’s natural, sultry allure. But my lips were my best feature. Naturally flushed and perfectly shaped, they looked incredibly inviting in isolation. Amanda: Not tomorrow. Depends on how you behave. [Winking emoji] Rowan: Challenge accepted! I promise I won’t disappoint. We flirted back and forth for about half an hour before I used sleep as an excuse to cut the conversation short. I could tell he was craving more. But basic psychology dictates that you never give a guy everything he wants all at once. [She actually sent him a picture. I feel like our female lead might be in trouble.] [Chill out. The female lead can turn the tide. Besides, it’s only the lower half of a face. He might not even recognize her.] [But those lips are pretty distinct. If he pays attention, he might be able to tell the difference.] [Doesn’t matter. The guy is obsessed with looks. The female lead will win him over with sheer beauty!] I closed my eyes with a cold smirk. I’d love to see Harper try to turn this tide. Of course, if this so-called “male lead” actually took one look at Harper and fell head over heels, I’d have nothing to say. But even if he was driven by pure lust, I was going to make damn sure he knew that Harper was a manipulative snake who tried to steal her best friend’s man. Harper wouldn’t be leaving any perfect impressions on anyone’s mind. 3 Harper and I had been college roommates. She came from a struggling background with parents who blatantly favored her brother. Her tuition was paid through student loans, and she survived entirely on part-time jobs. My family wasn’t filthy rich, but we were comfortably middle-class. Being an only child, my parents never let me lack for anything. When I found out about her financial struggles, I quietly took her under my wing. I frequently paid for her meals without making a big deal out of it. Whenever I shopped for seasonal clothes, I’d buy her a couple of outfits too. I shared all my expensive skincare and makeup with her. After graduation, we landed jobs at different companies. Knowing she was drowning in loan repayments, I deliberately found an apartment exactly halfway between our offices. I voluntarily covered the entire rent, electricity, and water bills just so she could save every dime. It wasn’t a completely one-sided dynamic, to be fair. In college, she was the one fetching my packages and scrubbing our dorm room. When we moved in together, she took over all the household chores without asking. I never felt it was unfair. I genuinely considered her my best friend. Yet, just to secure a luxurious lifestyle, she resorted to such deceitful tactics to steal my boyfriend. It left me feeling a freezing mixture of heartbreak and rage. If she could throw away years of loyalty for money, she couldn’t blame me for turning ruthless. I tossed and turned that night, finally drifting into a restless sleep around three in the morning. By the time I woke up, it was already ten. At eight sharp, Rowan had sent a message: Morning, gorgeous. Amanda: Morning! Five minutes later, my phone buzzed. Rowan: Sleepyhead. Just woke up? Amanda: Yeah. Taking full advantage of the weekend. Rowan: I respect that. Just don’t forget our date tonight! Amanda: Don’t worry, I won’t. I’ll text you when I’m on my way. See you there. Rowan: Can’t wait! [The female lead still hasn’t noticed anything. She’s in danger.] [There’s still hours left. She has a chance.] [What if the side character just coincidentally gets hit by a car on the way to the meetup?] [Oh man, maybe!] Thanks for the heads-up, floating chat. I’ll be sure to look both ways before crossing the street. 4 After wrapping up the chat, I took my time getting out of bed and throwing on some clothes. When I walked into the kitchen, I noticed a sticky note Harper had left on the dining table. It read in her neat handwriting, “Left some pork and century egg porridge in the pot. Make sure you eat breakfast!” A complex knot formed in my stomach. Harper was only a year older than me, but she had always acted like a protective older sister. She knew I had a habit of sleeping through breakfast on weekends, so she prepared something for me every single morning. I used to find it incredibly touching. Now, it just felt nauseatingly fake. I walked over to the stove, stared at the perfectly cooked, aromatic porridge for a few seconds, then picked up the pot and dumped the entire thing into the trash. [Holy shit! She just threw away the food the female lead made for her. Is she a reincarnated character too?] [Highly likely! I hope the female lead realizes it soon, otherwise she’s going to take a massive hit.] [Stop worrying. Harper is the true protagonist here. Amanda is just a minor roadblock!] Around three in the afternoon, my phone pinged with a message from Harper. Harper: Amanda, I’m stuck working overtime today. I’ll be home late. Just order some takeout or make something simple. I’ll cook your favorite sweet and sour ribs tomorrow. Amanda: Don’t stress about me. Focus on work so they don’t dock your pay. Harper: Will do. I just ordered a mango pomelo sago for you from that place you love. I paid extra for extra toppings. Drink it as soon as it arrives! Amanda: Aww, thanks. Harper: Don’t mention it. We exchanged a few more casual, friendly texts before she claimed a customer had walked in and ended the conversation. Ten minutes later, the delivery guy dropped off the iced drink. I had just poured the entire cup down the toilet and flushed when the chat feed flared up again. [Disaster! I don’t think the side character just reincarnated. I think she reincarnated AFTER the female lead did!] [That’s the only explanation. How else would she know the female lead ordered the staff to use heavily contaminated tap water for that drink?!] [Then the female lead is totally screwed!] [Relax, she’ll notice something is off and execute a flawless counterattack.] [Am I the only one who kind of wants to see the toxic female lead crash and burn?] [Quietly agreeing. I want to see her fail too.] I stared at the empty plastic cup in my hand, my blood running cold. I had a notoriously weak stomach. Eating anything remotely unhygienic would guarantee me a night of agonizing cramps and diarrhea. She had gone to extreme, malicious lengths just to keep me trapped in the bathroom while she stole my life. I really had overestimated her humanity. Perhaps to verify if her little biological weapon had worked, Harper sent another text fishing for information. I played along, telling her my stomach was cramping up and blaming it on some greasy takeout I had for lunch. She swallowed the lie hook, line, and sinker, even putting on a show of ordering stomach medicine for me online. 5 That evening, I arrived at the plaza twenty minutes early. Instead of heading straight to the designated meeting spot, I tucked myself behind a massive illuminated billboard near the bus stop, keeping my eyes peeled. Ten minutes later, a gorgeous guy holding a bouquet of pink roses walked into view. He headed straight for the south side of the fountain, pacing with a mix of anxiety and excitement. Unless I was completely wrong, this was my online boyfriend. The man the chat feed called the “male lead”, Rowan. Five more minutes passed. Then, Harper made her entrance. She knew I was planning to wear a white dress, so she wore one too, opting for a stunning strapless design. I had to admit it. Harper had a body that turned heads. The moment she stepped into the plaza, she drew the eyes of everyone around her, including Rowan. But probably out of a guilty conscience, she was wearing a medical mask, making her look incredibly suspicious. Rowan spotted the white dress, gripped his flowers, and strode purposely toward her. I was too far away to catch their exact words. But based on Rowan’s relaxed body language, he was clearly thrilled with what he saw. And honestly, standing side by side, they looked like a magazine cover. After a brief exchange, Rowan reached out, gently took Harper’s hand, and started leading her toward the entrance of the luxury mall. I didn’t rush out to create a dramatic scene. Instead, I calmly pulled out my phone and dialed his number. He answered on the second ring, but his voice was completely detached and cold. “Who is this? What do you want?” I feigned total ignorance and let my voice go soft and sweet. “Handsome, it’s me! I’m here. Where are you?” Rowan stopped dead in his tracks. A heavy silence stretched for two seconds before he asked, his tone dripping with sudden vigilance, “Who exactly are you?” I poured on the innocent confusion. “It’s me! Didn’t we agree to meet by the fountain at eight? Don’t tell me you forgot!” Rowan whipped his head around, his eyes desperately scanning the area around the fountain. The chat feed exploded in real time: [Holy crap! No plot twist! I’m getting massive second-hand embarrassment!] [Give it a second! There’s totally going to be a twist!] [What if he finds out she’s the real online girlfriend, but still chooses the female lead anyway? That would be the ultimate slap in the face for the side character. Hahaha!] [Exactly! They’ve only ever talked online. They’ve never even met. Plus, with the side character’s mediocre IQ, there is zero chance she can handle a dominant billionaire heir.] [So true. Only a sultry temptress like the female lead can tame a wild alpha dog like him.] 6 Rowan stood frozen, looking over his shoulder. After about ten seconds of silence, I let out an exaggerated sigh of complaint. “It’s your girlfriend! Are you seriously telling me you forgot my voice?!” “Fuck!” Rowan cursed violently under his breath. He aggressively ripped his hand out of Harper’s grasp and started marching back toward the fountain. Harper panicked, instinctively reaching out to grab his arm to stop him. “Get off me!” Rowan shoved her hard. Caught off guard in her heels, Harper let out a sharp gasp and stumbled backward, falling hard onto the concrete. Rowan didn’t even spare her a second glance. He broke into a jog, keeping the phone pressed to his ear. “Babe, where exactly are you? Some crazy woman just tried to impersonate you. She almost had me fooled!” I gasped in fabricated shock. “Are you serious? That’s psychotic! Wait, I think I see you!” I stepped out from the shadows and stood directly under the streetlamp next to the fountain, waving my arm high in the air. “I see you too!” Rowan locked eyes with me and sprinted over. I walked forward to meet him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harper staring in my direction with wide, terrified eyes. She scrambled up from the ground and practically sprinted away, disappearing into the crowd. Rowan jogged to a halt right in front of me. His chest heaved as his eyes darted down to my white dress, and then fixed intensely on my lips. It took him a few seconds to confirm I was the girl from the photo. He let out a heavy breath, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. “Babe, I’m so sorry. Some woman wearing a dress just like yours came up to me. I was this close to believing it was you!” “Thank God you called when you did. I was about to get totally scammed.” I widened my eyes, playing the perfect innocent victim. “Who would do something like that? That’s so creepy!” Rowan turned and pointed furiously at the empty spot where Harper had fallen. “Some psycho wearing a mask and sunglasses! She was just standing right there, but she bolted.” I crossed my arms indignantly. “What an absolute freak.” Rowan nodded emphatically, absolute disgust written across his handsome features. “A total freak.” [I can’t believe there was no twist.] [The side character played that beautifully. The male lead is definitely disgusted by the female lead right now. It’s going to be so much harder for her to steal him away.] [Wait, two fake besties who both reincarnated? I kind of like this dynamic way more!] [Honestly, reading this from an outside perspective is really satisfying. I hate homewreckers.] [When men cheat, people excuse it. When women do it, they get crucified. The internalized misogyny is real!] [Are you mentally ill? Who said anything about excusing cheating men? I literally just said I hate homewreckers of any gender!] The chat feed devolved into a messy argument. I found the whole thing ridiculous. Some of these invisible watchers seemed downright addicted to stories glorifying infidelity. Probably reflected their own twisted morals in real life.

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On New Year’s Eve, burning with a hundred-and-four-degree fever, I coughed up blood and begged my mother to take me to the hospital. She still produced that spinning wheel. “The old rule: if it lands on red, we go! If it lands on black, shut up!” I was the true daughter, swapped at birth. The night I came home, my mother said that from then on, all family matters would be decided by this red and black spinning wheel. It was the fairest way, she claimed. I nodded, full of hope. But for three whole years, thousands of spins, my sister always landed on red, and I, always on black. Not only did all the beautiful jewelry and the sunny room go to her, but even when I was sick in bed, wanting a sip of water, I had to wait for her cartoon to finish. I gripped the edge of the wheel, my fingers trembling with fever. This time, I wanted to live. In the last split second, as the pointer was about to slide to black, I used all my strength to press my index finger against the back. For the first time, it stopped on the red section. “I landed on…” “Daisy!” My eldest brother seized my wrist. “Even if your luck is bad, you can’t cheat!” My second brother shoved me to the ground: “You came back with your bloodline, only to learn such despicable tricks?” My third brother broke my finger: “Being biological, you should follow the rules even more.” They left merrily. I lay on the cold floor, watching fireworks explode outside the window. So red was truly beautiful. I’m sorry. In my next life… I will definitely try hard to land on red. … I could still hear them as they prepared to leave. “Pearl, is your scarf on? It’s cold outside.” My mother’s voice was impossibly gentle. “The private dining room for New Year’s Eve dinner is all set up, with pink balloons everywhere. You’ll love it, I’m sure.” “Really? Mom knows me best!” My second brother chuckled, joining in: “Tonight, Dad even specially ordered a New Year’s Eve cake with your favorite ballerina sugar figurine on top.” My third brother’s voice was full of indulgence: “Little princess, the head chef at the French restaurant heard you were coming and specially prepared your favorite caramel crème brûlée tart, a three-tiered one.” “That’s great! What about my New Year’s gift?” Pearl’s voice was sickly sweet. “It’s all in the car.” My eldest brother said with a smile, “Tonight is a night of reunion. Whatever our Pearl wants, she gets.” Footsteps moved towards the door, the rustle of coats filling the air. Not a single person looked back towards the living room. Not a single person remembered that someone was still lying on the floor. Every time the wheel landed on black, my mother remained perfectly calm. “The probabilities are fifty-fifty. If your luck is bad, who can you blame?” “People with bad luck don’t deserve good things.” She had said these words countless times. But what was luck? I remembered when I first came home three years ago, my mother took out that red and black spinning wheel. “Daisy, you’re my biological child, Mommy loves you.” She knelt down to look me in the eye. “But Pearl has also been with us for ten years. For absolute fairness, from now on, all family matters will be decided by the spinning wheel, okay?” A one-in-two chance. I nodded vigorously, my eyes full of light. The first time. In late autumn, the cuff of my only sweater had a hole. As the cold wind seeped in, I quietly said, “Mom, can I have five dollars to buy some yarn? I’ll mend it myself.” Mom was trying on a cashmere coat for Pearl and didn’t even turn her head: “Five dollars isn’t money? Let the wheel decide.” The pointer stopped on black. My second brother scoffed: “Such a pauper. Pearl’s coat is enough to buy you a cartful of yarn.” Later, I tied a piece of discarded red ribbon around the hole and was laughed at in school for a whole week. The second time. I clutched my test paper, my palms sweating. “Mom, I got first place.” The dinner table fell silent for a moment. Dad grunted an “hmm,” and continued to serve Pearl shrimp. “Alright, what do you want this time?” Mom wiped her mouth. “A ten-dollar workbook…” “Old rules.” My third brother put an arm around Pearl, smiling grandly: “Hear that? Our true scholar is right here. Your first place was probably just a blind squirrel finding a nut.” The pointer stopped on black again. That test paper was tucked into the bottom of my bookshelf, never to be taken out again. … The 825th time, when the news of Grandma Willow’s passing came, I stood on the stairs, my blood running cold. “Mom, I want to go back and say goodbye to Grandma…” “Enough!” She cut me off. “The dead cannot return to life. What’s the point of going back? It’s unlucky!” My third brother rushed in, phone in hand, his face beaming with excitement: “Mom! Pearl won first prize in the piano competition!” Mom’s impatience instantly turned to ecstasy: “Really? What reward do you want, sweetie?” Dad also came out of the study: “We should definitely celebrate.” My second brother had, at some point, brought over the spinning wheel. “Spin it.” He placed it on the coffee table. “If it lands on red, you can go.” I looked at the distinct red and black wheel for a long time. My fingertip hovered above the pointer, trembling, but ultimately didn’t descend. That night, I kowtowed three times towards the direction of the countryside, standing before the spinning wheel until midnight. Because I knew the outcome. It would definitely be black. Always black. The door closed. The joyous sounds of reunion were completely cut off. Inside, the house was deadly silent, save for my gradually weakening breaths and the festive crackle of firecrackers from other homes outside the window. The moment the pain vanished, I floated up. Looking down, a small body was curled on the floor. Faded, worn pajamas, the right index finger bent at a strange angle, and on the pale face, un-dried tear streaks. That was me. Thirteen-year-old Daisy, no longer breathing. It turned out some people were born to be held in the family’s palms, with even the New Year’s Eve cake figurines prepared to their liking. Some people were born only to lie on a cold floor, their deaths silent and unnoticed. I don’t know how long it was, The door was pushed open again. Mother and daughter walked in, wearing identical cashmere coats. Pearl wore a dazzling diamond necklace around her neck; it was the welcome gift my grandmother had given me when I first came home. Because the spinning wheel landed on black, Mom said, “Such precious jewelry isn’t fitting for you,” so it ended up around Pearl’s neck. Pearl lifted her skirt and knelt, her voice innocent: “The floor is so dirty… why is Sister still lying here?” My eldest brother frowned: “Country folk are just like that. When they’re tired, they lie down anywhere, regardless of cleanliness.” My third brother lazily chimed in: “That’s why, even if Pearl isn’t biological, she has an inherent grace. While some people, well, genes can’t change that inherent peasant air.” Pearl curiously touched my face, but quickly recoiled. She gasped: “Mom! Sister’s face… it’s colder than ice!” Mom’s movement of taking off her coat froze. For some inexplicable reason. I felt a faint sense of anticipation. I wondered what their reaction would be when they discovered I was dead. Mom walked over. She first saw my twisted finger, her expression momentarily taken aback: “Her finger… why is it bent like that?” My third brother leaned against the entryway, saying casually: “I broke it.” Mom glared at him, with a hint of anger: “You really don’t know your own strength. She’s still your sister, after all!” I floated in the air, staring blankly at her. A warmth spread through my heart. I knew it, Mom still loved me. But it didn’t matter anymore, I couldn’t feel pain. My third brother raised his chin: “Mom, you set the rules yourself. Cheating deserves punishment. Pearl remembers it and always follows it obediently. Is it really fair to her if you indulge Daisy?” Mom’s lips moved, then she turned to look at Pearl. The young girl bit her lip, her eyes slightly red, like a startled bunny. In that instant, Mom’s voice softened: “Alright, just remember not to do it in front of Pearl next time. She’s easily frightened.” That flicker of emotion, sparked by me, was like a pebble thrown into a deep pond, creating only a trivial ripple. Mom reached out, but didn’t check my breath. Instead, she poked my shoulder with disgust: “Daisy, get up.” “Playing dead, are we?” She kicked my shoulder with the tip of her high heel. “To avoid the family dinner, to make us feel guilty, you’re full of tricks! You’ll stoop to any despicable means.” My second brother picked up the glass cup from the coffee table, his wrist flicking. Scalding water splashed half my face. “Can you wake up now? Can you stop always using such cheap tricks to get attention?” Water droplets rolled down my temples into my collar, yet my eyelashes didn’t even flicker. Pearl retreated a small step, timidly saying: “Mom, I feel like, Sister seems… really unwell.” To soothe Pearl’s wounded spirit. My second brother patted her back and tucked an exquisite gift box into her arms. “Good Pearl, big brother knows you have a kind heart, but some people are just born to play the victim and aren’t worthy of sympathy at all.” Mom rubbed Pearl’s head: “The more you indulge her, the worse she’ll get next time. Today she’s playing dead, tomorrow she’ll hang herself. She just wants to force us to apologize by doing this.” My third brother scoffed along: “This afternoon she was making such a fuss about going to the hospital, now she’s just lying here like a corpse. What else can she do besides upsetting the family and ruining the atmosphere?” Perhaps wanting to end this farce quickly. Mom crouched down and fiercely pinched my philtrum. Even when my lips turned white from her grip, I remained motionless. She completely lost her patience. Raising her hand, she slapped me across the face. “If I had known you were such a stubborn and malicious person, I never should have softened and brought you back!” Just then, Pearl’s sweet voice came from upstairs: “Mommy, look, isn’t the new dress second brother bought me pretty?” That voice was like magic. The anger on Mom’s face instantly melted away like snow. “Sweetheart, Mommy’s coming.” After a few steps, she suddenly turned back and dragged me up from the floor. “Daisy, listen carefully! In this family, Pearl came first, then you. Bloodline means nothing! Don’t think that just because you’re biological, you can do whatever you want.” My head fell back limply, my eyes half-open, pupils dilated and lifeless, staring at the ceiling. She stared into my unfocused eyes, as if wanting to see submission and fear there. But I was already dead; I couldn’t give any reaction. This seemed to infuriate Mom. She grabbed my collar, warning me fiercely: “Know your place! If you dare to have crooked thoughts and compete with Pearl again… you can go back to your village!” She let go. My head, losing its support, hit the floor with a “thud.” She didn’t look back, clip-clopping upstairs in her high heels. My second brother kicked me: “On New Year’s, who are you putting on this deathly display for? That’s enough.” My third brother, smiling, pulled out his phone and pressed the shutter button. “A souvenir. Next time you pretend, I’ll let everyone see what kind of person the real daughter of the Sterling family is in private.” Finally, it was my eldest brother. He stood there watching me for a long time, so long that I thought he would discover something. Finally, he sighed. Reluctantly, he dragged me back to my room and threw me onto the bed. Before leaving, he stood at the doorway and said, as if offering charity: “Daisy, if your finger hurts too much to bear, come find me, but don’t alarm Pearl. I can send you to the hospital without going through the spinning wheel. However, the medical expenses will be deducted from your next month’s allowance. You caused this trouble yourself, so you bear the consequences, understand?” I answered over and over: “Brother, thank you, but I’m already dead now. I don’t need to go to the hospital…” But he would never hear it. The door closed. Outside the window, fireworks bloomed, firecrackers popped, full of festive cheer. Next door, the family was joyous, laughing heartily, so lively. Only I, floating alone in the air, was dead and no one knew. I’m sorry. In my heart, I whispered to the me who, three years ago, first walked into this house, looked up at the crystal chandelier, and thought I had finally found a home. See? Pearl is the best, obedient daughter. And I, even being biological. In their hearts, I was just a stranger with the title of “true daughter.” The next morning, Dad walked through the door, looking travel-worn. He spent years developing overseas business, only returning for holidays. In his hands, he carried two gift boxes, one large and one small. “Daddy!” Pearl, like a cheerful butterfly, flew into his arms. “What good things did you bring me again?” Dad smiled, ruffled her hair, and scanned the living room: “Where’s Daisy? How come she didn’t come out to get my slippers this time?” Mom, who was brewing tea, paused: “On New Year’s, she insists on competing with Pearl. I said a few words to her yesterday, and now she’s probably sulking in her room.” Dad frowned, but didn’t ask further. He pointed to the two gift boxes: “Brought New Year’s gifts for the children. The big one is Bulgari’s new limited edition jewelry set, which took a lot of connections to get. The small one… is a souvenir keychain I bought casually at the airport.” Million-dollar jewelry, and a keychain worth at most five dollars. The disparity was comically vast. “Daddy! This one must be for me, right?” Pearl pounced on the opulent large gift box. Dad gently chided: “Pearl, don’t be silly. You know, our family always emphasizes fairness.” Then, he solemnly took out the spinning wheel and placed it on the coffee table: “Still the old rule. Spin to red, take the large one. Spin to black, take the small one.” Mom shouted towards my room: “Doesn’t someone always complain we’re biased? If you don’t come spin the wheel, then I’m letting your sister spin it, okay? Don’t you dare cry later and say the whole family ganged up to bully you!” “I’ll spin it, I’ll spin it! The result is always the same anyway.” Pearl happily ran over. She flicked the pointer, and it began to spin. Dad watched with a smile, Mom with doting eyes, and my brothers with an air of certainty. Only I, floating in the air, teared up uncontrollably—I really was just as Mom said, naughty and stubborn, still foolishly dreaming of landing on red even after death. Unwilling, I leaned over the spinning wheel, trying to flick it, blowing with all my might. Perhaps heaven also pitied me, the pointer slowed down, trembling as it approached black… Then, it stopped. The living room was silent for a moment. I froze, then was overcome with wild joy, jumping up excitedly—Oh my god! Red was finally mine! But I was already dead, and such precious jewelry would be a waste to be buried with me. It was better for Pearl to wear it. I thought to myself. It seemed I really just had bad luck. Had I misunderstood them? They actually hadn’t been biased all this time. Mom suddenly grabbed Pearl’s wrist and examined it, then said in surprise: “No wonder. My sweet Pearl, where’s the magnet on your bracelet? It’s gone?” I felt like I had been struck by lightning. A magnet? So, Pearl’s bracelet… had a magnet hidden inside? Three whole years, thousands of blacks. I had knelt countless times, praying, secretly practicing in the dead of night, thinking it was my lowly fate, that I was despised by the gods, that I didn’t deserve a shred of special favor… “…I don’t know.” Pearl pouted, looking aggrieved. “Daddy, Sister isn’t here anyway. Can… can this time not count?” Dad’s face showed some difficulty. Just then, my brothers exchanged glances. My eldest brother immediately understood, walked over, and gave a gentle flick, and the pointer landed steadily in the red section. “See, it’s clearly red.” My eldest brother’s tone was flat. “Oh yeah!” Pearl cheered. “Thank you, Daddy! Thank you, big brother!” Dad nodded with a smile: “It seems the gods still favor our Pearl.” Mom also smiled: “Yes, Pearl always has good fortune.” The family was harmonious, as if that little “accident” had never happened. A profound sense of desolation and absurdity swallowed me. So in this family. Not only were the rules flexible, but even luck could be manual. After dinner, my third brother lost a game, and his punishment was to bring me food. He stood up, his face full of disgust, “I’m not going! It’s bad luck.” Pearl pouted playfully: “A bet is a bet, brother~” My second brother immediately frowned: “Go quickly and come back quickly. Would you really upset Pearl for that annoying person?” My third brother stood up irritably: “Tsk… This is so annoying.” Two minutes later, he threw a bowl of leftovers onto my bedside table: “Hey, stop pretending! That’s enough.” I lay motionless on the bed. He kicked the edge of the bed: “Daisy, I’m talking to you, are you deaf?” “Fine, you’ve got guts. Don’t eat, then. Starve to death.” He angrily poured the food into the trash can. “Brother! I’m not pretending! I’m really dead! Look at my face, look at my hand!” I floated in front of my third brother, waving my hands frantically, trying to catch his attention. My third brother seemed to sense something, his footsteps faltering. His gaze fell on my pale face and purplish lips. In that instant, my heart leaped into my throat. Was he going to discover it? Was he finally… going to see me? The next second, he scoffed: “Heh, your acting is damn good. You’re even so committed to playing dead.” He turned and left, the door closing crisply. …

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In the tenth year of my AA-marriage into a wealthy family, before I could fully wake up from the illusion of love, Ryan’s payment QR code was shoved right in my face. “The suite for tonight, you’re splitting the bill with me.” I barely had time to get dressed, fumbling for my phone. On the screen, my bank account balance showed a paltry thirty dollars. I awkwardly asked, “My paycheck doesn’t come until tomorrow. Could… could I pay you then?” Ryan just smiled at me, a hint of something unreadable, perhaps mockery, in his gaze: “That million dollars you used to betray me ten years ago, is it all spent? If you don’t want to split the bill… then just pretend you’re a street girl. We’ll go again, and I won’t charge you.” My eyelashes fluttered down. I said nothing more, just silently transferred the money. Only then did he get up to shower. What exactly happened ten years ago was a complete blank in my memory. When I woke up in the hospital, everyone told me that after Ryan and I eloped, I couldn’t stand the hardship. I’d gone to his mother, demanded a million dollars, and promised to leave him. A few blurry fragments flashed through my mind, and my head throbbed. Just then, Ryan’s phone chimed a few times. As if possessed, I picked up the phone and unlocked it. On the screen were a few suggestive photos from his secretary. “Mr. Howard, when are you divorcing that old hag?” My hands trembled as I morbidly scrolled through all their chat history, from their explicit flirtations to discussing rendezvous points. My tears dried and re-wet on my cheeks. Finally, I typed a reply: “Tomorrow.” 1. At two in the morning, I tiptoed out of bed. It was time to clean the restrooms at the Howard Group building. Ten years ago, I’d agreed to an AA-marriage with Ryan, but the expenses of high society were far more exorbitant than I’d imagined. Even if I ate nothing but plain pasta, just living in that villa meant monthly maintenance fees that were a colossal sum to me. And Ryan’s mother had “kindly” offered me a job: a restroom cleaner at the Howard Group. Even though I knew it was an insult, I accepted. Because I didn’t know where else I could find a fifty-thousand-dollar-a-month job to maintain my chance of staying by Ryan’s side. Luckily, starting tomorrow, I wouldn’t need to. Today’s cleaning solution was particularly acrid, and my eyes stung repeatedly. It wasn’t until nine in the morning that I finished cleaning all the restrooms in the entire building. This was Ryan’s mother’s requirement. She’d looked at my clean, unblemished hands with a smile then, saying softly, “Ophelia, before everyone starts work, all the restrooms in the building need to be sparkling clean. You can manage that, can’t you?” I’d gritted my teeth and agreed, even though my hands were once meant for painting. Exhausted, I huddled in the last utility closet in the restroom for a break. “Bang bang bang!” A loud knocking startled my heart. I opened the door, and there stood Ryan’s secretary, Laura. She was dressed impeccably in a professional suit, looking down at me. “Oh, Mrs. Howard, so you’re hiding out here, are you? The ladies’ room in the second stall is clogged. Could you please clear it?” Her words were polite, but her sarcastic gaze pierced straight through my faded cleaner’s uniform. My fists clenched tightly, my nails digging deep into my palms, though I barely felt it. Finally, I put on my mask and numbly nodded. Seeing me take out a long pair of tweezers, Laura raised a hand to stop me. “Mrs. Howard, the company’s toilets are all new. Each one is a smart toilet worth a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Using tools like that might damage it…” I frowned, “Then what do you want me to do?” “You figure something out. Just no tools…” The implication couldn’t have been clearer. I knew she wouldn’t give up unless I did as she wished. Thinking my paycheck hadn’t arrived yet, I didn’t want any more trouble. I mechanically knelt down. My stomach churned, whether from the smell or the emotion, sour bile rising in my throat. Tears silently fell, hidden by my mask. Under her watchful, amused gaze, I began to work. As the foreign object was pulled from the toilet, I heard a few clicks of a camera behind me. “Mrs. Howard, I’ve sent your hard-working picture to the company group chat, okay? Your spirit of not fearing hardship is truly inspiring!” Laura said, smiling at me. I paid no mind to her words, staring blankly at the purple sheer thong in my hand. It was the one she’d worn in the photos she’d sent last night. Laura’s delicate brow furrowed, feigning embarrassment: “Oh, how did this end up here? Could it be with Mr. Howard that day…” She said, “I’m so embarrassed! I was going to Mr. Howard’s office to report, and he wanted to see me in it!” “Mrs. Howard, could you do me a favor and run a quick errand? There’s a self-service store a few blocks away. Could you pick one up for me?” She pulled a few thousand dollars from her pocket and, without asking, shoved it into my hand. As I walked from the restroom to the main entrance of the building, people I passed avoided me as if I carried a plague. Those who walked by me covered their noses and chuckled lightly. I heard someone say, “These gold-diggers are really working for it!” As I carried the item back towards the Howard Group, I clutched my numb heart, thinking: What have I gained? Ten years of marriage, only zero in savings, and a lover who didn’t love me. With a notification of a payment received, I felt all the strength drain from my body. The spirit and feelings that ten years hadn’t managed to extinguish now vanished into thin air. I took the thong and the two documents I had prepared, walking towards Ryan’s office. One was a resignation letter, the other a divorce agreement. 2. Before pushing open the door to Ryan’s office, I glanced at his secretary’s desk outside. It was empty. Seeing me enter, Ryan looked up, his face flushed with an ambiguous color. “What are you doing in here?” His voice was hoarse, his tone carrying an underlying restraint. Ten years ago, he’d used that same tone, tenderly and lingeringly, to call me: “Lily.” “Ophelia?” he called me. The coldness in his voice snapped me back to reality. I placed the items in my hand on his desk. “Your secretary asked me to buy these panties. Said you needed them urgently.” Ryan scoffed, raising an eyebrow: “You really can tolerate a lot to be Mrs. Howard, can’t you?” “This is my resignation letter…” Ryan looked at me with surprise, his cold remarks still unsaid. Then he heard me say calmly, “The other one is our divorce agreement.” Ryan’s eyes instantly cleared, filled with a sharp, scrutinizing coldness. His hand gripped the leather armrest of his chair tightly. He took several deep breaths before speaking, his face looking less than pleased. “Ophelia, playing hard to get won’t work on me.” If I didn’t know who was currently beneath his wide office desk, I truly might have mistaken his words as an attempt to keep me. “Mr. Howard, I’m tired.” “Tired?” Ryan laughed, his handsome features utterly devoid of emotion. “Ophelia, for ten years you couldn’t bear to leave the Howard family’s gilded cage. What makes you willing to leave today? Or have you found another sugar daddy with your looks?” “Don’t think I’ll go soft.” His words were like sharp blades, stabbing into my heart again and again. He picked up my divorce agreement with just two fingers, glanced at it dismissively, then flicked it into the air. The paper drifted lightly to the floor, like my dignity and my heart. His thin lips opened and closed, uttering cruel and vicious words. “I’m not agreeing to a divorce, Ophelia. I’m not done with you yet.” “Ow!” No sooner had the words left his lips than Ryan winced in pain. Perhaps his little mistress, upset that he wouldn’t divorce, was causing a scene under his desk. I let out a self-mocking laugh in my heart. After the brief amusement, ten years of pent-up grievances surged to the surface. I struggled to speak calmly, to maintain my last shred of dignity, but what came out was a trembling whisper, laced with tears: “Ryan, please, let me go…” 3. Ryan’s face changed. He slumped backward, utterly drained, hitting the backrest of his chair with a thud. He spoke, his voice carrying a suppressed anger: “Is being with me that unbearable?” “Please, let me go? I don’t want anything anymore…” The title of Mrs. Howard, I don’t want it. Ryan himself, along with our relationship, I don’t want it anymore. Even why I left him with a million dollars in the first place, I no longer care to investigate. That memory, that relationship, after I discovered his infidelity, it all became irrelevant. Ryan’s gaze dimmed, like a murky pool of black water. “Why? It’s always been you coming and going as you please. Did you ever consider my feelings for a single moment?” Every word sounded squeezed from between his back teeth; he clearly hated me. “My family disagreed, yet I eloped with you. The Howard Group blacklisted me, I couldn’t find work. I was willing to work construction, just so you could paint freely in your studio, but what did you do?” Ryan laughed, his eyes reddening without warning. “You played me like a dog. One day you swore eternal love, the next you went to my mother for a million dollars to go to the Northside.” “In your heart… I was only worth a million.” The Northside… A dark, damp basement, a sticky sensation flashed in my mind. I suppressed the uncomfortable feeling and forced a bitter smile: “I’ve already repaid you for ten years, Mr. Howard, isn’t that enough?” Ryan was about to say something else when someone pushed open the door and walked in. He quickly composed himself. The newcomer was Mr. Peterson, a key business partner of the Howard Group. “Mr. Howard, I saw the secretary wasn’t outside, so I came straight in.” Ryan grunted, biting his index finger slightly. Arguing with me had already drained a lot of his energy; he was now on the verge of exploding. Mr. Peterson, mistaking me for a cleaning lady, pulled out a contract from his bag. “Mr. Howard, we were very pleased with my last proposal. We’re here today to sign the contract.” He stepped forward with the contract, but Ryan raised a hand and growled, “Stop.” Mr. Peterson paused, startled, frowning slightly with displeasure. Ryan quickly amended, “I think the proposal could be even more perfect. Please wait while I gather everyone for a meeting.” Mr. Peterson chuckled, “Mr. Howard is certainly meticulous. Why don’t I call everyone to your office for a meeting now?” Saying this, Mr. Peterson, ignoring Ryan’s darkening face, called people to the meeting in the work group chat. Employees are always swift. Even though Ryan was on the top floor of the building, everyone arrived within a minute. They all looked expectantly at Ryan, wanting to know what still needed to be revised. Ryan was tense, suppressing his primal urges, and began discussing the proposal with everyone in a rigid, formal manner. I took out a rag, pretending to clean, moving from the office desk to the display cabinet behind it. Under the desk, I met Laura’s eyes. She glared at me venomously. I pulled out the purple thong I’d retrieved from the toilet that morning and, without hesitation, tossed it onto her. The damp, soiled fabric touched Laura, and she let out a disgusted gasp, scrambling out from under the desk. Just like that, dishevelled, she stood face-to-face with everyone.

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“My fiancée was kidnapped by my rival, crying and begging me to save her. My rival taunted, “”Bet me. If you win, I’ll return your fiancée and transfer my assets to you. “”If you lose, I’ll take your assets, and your life!”” My fiancée, her face streaked with tears, subtly urged me to accept. I knew it was an elaborate trap they had set together. But I still accepted the wager. 1 “”Jason, save me!”” My fiancée, Selena, was crying, her face streaked with tears. She was bound to a chair, unable to move, her large eyes continuously shedding tears as she looked at me. Around her stood several burly bodyguards, each one incredibly muscular. There was no way for me to get close to Selena, let alone rescue her from such a heavy guard. The one who had kidnapped her was my sworn rival, Derek Jensen. He was my company’s biggest competitor. We had battled for years, countless business wars, and had long become thorns in each other’s sides. Previously, I had always bested him, building my company into the industry leader. He hated me to the core; every time he saw me, he wanted to flay me alive. A day ago, Selena had gone out alone for a nail appointment and hadn’t returned. Her phone was also off. It wasn’t until evening that I received a desperate call from Selena, saying she had been kidnapped by Derek. To save my fiancée, I came alone to the rendezvous. The location was a Jensen family construction site, a building not yet topped out. We were on the rooftop of the 20th floor. Derek sat on a sofa smoking a cigar, while Selena was bound to a chair not far away, surrounded by Derek’s men. He looked at me, applauding approvingly: “”Good, coming alone. You’ve got guts.”” “”What are your terms to release her?”” I looked at him coldly. What he wanted was nothing more than for me to give up the bidding for the land in Southfield, or perhaps to leave the industry entirely. Sure enough, Derek stood up, still exhaling smoke: “”It’s simple. You and I make a wager. If you win, I’ll release Selena and transfer all my assets to you, withdrawing from the real estate industry forever. “”If you lose, you give all your assets to me, and… your life.”” “”Of course, publicly, you’ll announce your successful retirement and take care of yourself. I’m a law-abiding citizen, you see, haha.”” With that, he pulled out a contract and waved it: “”I’ve already drafted the contract; it’s real and legally binding.”” “”A wager?”” I hesitated for a moment. Selena cried even louder, her face soaked with tears. “”Jason, save me, I want to go home.”” “”Please save me! It’s just a gamble, you can definitely win.”” Selena’s mournful cries echoed in my ears. Derek laughed: “”Time is running out for you. Decide quickly. If you don’t agree, I’ll throw her down.”” As he spoke, two burly bodyguards lifted Selena from the chair and forcefully suspended her from a crane hook, leaving her dangling 20 stories high. Selena screamed, terrified, continuously yelling: “”Save me, Jason, I’m so scared, put me down.”” “”It’s best not to struggle, or you’ll fall and splatter into a mess of flesh and bone,”” Derek chuckled, threatening her. Selena didn’t dare to open her eyes and look down. With that reminder, she stopped squirming. She stared straight at me, crying. “”I’m so scared, save me……”” “”So? Have you decided? She can’t hold on much longer.”” Derek turned his head to look at me, smugly. I was still hesitating. My father was known as the “”King of a Thousand Aces”” in the gambling world. With his incredibly skilled gambling, he had held the title of World Gambling King for over a decade. Afterward, he retired honorably and started in the real estate industry. It was then that he set a rule, forbidding his descendants from touching gambling. But now, I was about to violate the family rule. Seeing my prolonged hesitation, Selena’s face was etched with despair: “”Jason, actually, yesterday I wasn’t getting my nails done. I was at the hospital for a check-up… I’m pregnant. You’re going to be a father, Jason.”” 2 At that, I froze, immediately turning to Derek: “”Put her down.”” “”You agree to bet with me?”” Derek raised an eyebrow. The first rule of my family was never to gamble, and never to reveal our skills in front of outsiders. But now, I had to choose between saving her and violating that oath. Seeing me still hesitate, Derek laughed heartily: “”If you don’t dare to gamble, then let’s skip that part. Just transfer all your assets to me. I won’t even take your life. You pack your bags and leave this city immediately.”” Selena choked up: “”Jason, my stomach hurts so much. The baby might not hold on much longer. Weren’t you looking forward to our baby? Please save me, I can’t take this anymore.”” “”But if I save you, I have to gamble with him. If I lose, I’ll become a disgrace to my family,”” I said with difficulty. Selena, hearing this, cried even harder: “”Are the baby and I not as important as your money? You might not even lose if you bet him. If you win, everyone will be happy.”” “”But you know I never play cards. Derek, he’s a veteran of many casinos, called the ‘Young Gambling King.’ How could I possibly win against him?”” I said helplessly. Selena looked at me affectionately, saying: “”Jason, I believe in you. Even if we lose, I’m willing to be a poor couple with you. We’ll never abandon each other.”” “”Enough with the nonsense, are you betting or not?”” Derek prompted, a little impatient. I closed my eyes, letting out a heavy breath: “”I’ll bet you.”” “”Gutsy. Have a seat!”” Derek smirked. “”Shouldn’t we sign the contract first? What if you go back on your word?”” I said calmly. Derek scoffed: “”I’ve been gambling since I was a teenager, always winning. Almost no one has ever beaten me. Are you so eager to sign the contract because you’re afraid you won’t lose your family fortune?”” With that, he tossed the contract onto the table. I sat across from him, picked up the contract, and meticulously reviewed every clause, ensuring there were no issues or hidden clauses. Finally, I signed my name and affixed my fingerprint. “”Your turn.”” I pushed the contract towards him. He sneered, a look of disdain on his face, as if certain he would win this time. After signing the contract, I took it back to photograph and video record it. He smugly pulled out a cigar. Derek held a silver lighter between his fingers, the flame flickering on and off. After taking a deep drag, he said: “”We’ll play Blackjack, simple rules. The dealer deals, everyone gets two starting cards. Points are the sum of the card faces. Aces are 1 or 11, Jacks, Queens, Kings are all 10. Whoever gets closest to 21 without going over wins. Best two out of three. Even if you’ve never played, you understand the rules, right? Don’t say I’m taking advantage of you.”” My fingertips tapped the table. I watched him expertly tear open a new deck of cards, the red and black faces fanning out and closing neatly in his palm: “”Who’s the dealer?”” “”We’ll take turns. I’ll deal the first round.”” Derek’s shuffling was mesmerizing, the backs of the cards colliding with a crisp “”swish-swish”” sound, like opening drums for this wager. This clearly showed he was a master of the casino. His deal was clean, two cards slapped in front of me, then two for himself, one face-up—the Diamond 10—and a face-down card tucked under the corner of the table. My starting hand was a Heart 5 and a Club 7, totaling 12 points, quite a distance from 21. “”Hit me.”” I pushed the cards forward. Derek glanced at me, his eyes showing his usual nonchalance. He drew a card and slid it to my hand—a Spade 8. My total instantly jumped to 20. This number was tricky. Another card might bust me, but standing pat put the pressure on the dealer. “”Stand.”” I arranged my three cards in a neat line. Derek’s gaze lingered on my cards for half a second. His slender fingers flipped his face-down card—a Heart Ace. His current total was 11. He said without hesitation: “”Hit me.”” The first additional card was a Diamond 3, bringing his total to 14. The second was a Spade 6, making his total exactly 20, matching mine. The air in the private room seemed to solidify. Derek’s fingertips rubbed the edge of his cards. The lighter flickered again. This time, he lit a cigarette. In the swirling smoke, his voice carried a hint of a smile: “”Another round. You deal this time.”” I took the cards he offered. When I shuffled, I deliberately slowed down, my fingertips feeling the texture of the cards. Although my family rules forbade gambling, my father had taught me knowledge and techniques of the card table since childhood. Just by touch, I could clearly know what card was under my hand. 3 When dealing, I intentionally revealed my face-up card slowly. My face-up card was a Heart Queen. Derek’s face-up card was a Club 9. He glanced at his own card, then at my face-down card under the table, raising an eyebrow: “”If your face-down card is an Ace, I’ll surrender immediately.”” I didn’t reply, flipping over my face-down card—a Diamond 2, making my total 12. Derek’s face-down card was a Diamond 5, totaling 14. He immediately raised his hand: “”Hit me.”” I drew a card and pushed it over—a Spade Jack. His total instantly soared to 24, a bust. “”Tsk, bad luck.”” Derek threw the busted cards on the table, extinguishing his cigarette butt in the crystal ashtray. Sparks flew up and quickly died out. My fingertip tapped the Heart Queen. My gaze fell on his ears, slightly reddened from losing, and I slowly spoke: “”Last hand.”” He chuckled at that, gathering the cards again. The shuffling sound was louder than before: “”Alright.”” I picked up the cards from the table, drew a Heart Ace, and placed it face down in front of him: “”I’m still the dealer.”” The shuffling sound resumed. This time, Derek’s gaze was fixed on my dealing hand, as if trying to see through my fingers to the suit of each card. I dealt him his cards first. His face-up card was a Diamond 9. I then dealt myself a Heart 6. My face-up total was just over half, not much of an advantage in Blackjack. Derek immediately flipped his face-down card. It was a Club 8. His fingertip tapped the card face: “”17 points, very stable.”” I glanced at my face-down card, a Spade 3, total 9. “”Hit me.”” I pushed the card forward. Derek scoffed, his action of drawing a card showing a hint of condescension: “”You dare to chase aggressively with 9 points? Be careful not to bust yourself.”” The card slid in front of me—a Diamond 5, bringing my total to 14. “”Hit me again.”” My words had barely finished. Derek’s laughter came through: “”There’s a limit to showing off. Look how stable I am at 17, standing pat. Unlike some people, who insist on gambling when they clearly don’t have the luck.”” He said, leaning back in his chair, his legs crossed high. His gaze swept over my cards with disdain. “”You’re bound to lose this hand. Why don’t you admit defeat now, call me ‘Daddy,’ and kneel to me? I might even consider leaving you two thousand to buy an electric scooter to deliver takeout, since you’ll be broke after losing.”” I didn’t pick up on his taunt, just raised my hand again: “”Hit me.”” Derek, this so-called “”Young Gambling King,”” was nothing more than trash in front of me. His little tricks were just entertainment I used to pass the time when I was bored as a child. Derek’s smile deepened. He deliberately paused for two seconds before drawing a card, as if savoring my final struggle. This card was a Heart 4. My total stopped at 18. “”Stand.”” I placed the three cards steadily. Derek immediately sat up straight, tapping the table with his fingers: “”18 points? Looks good, but unfortunately, it’s still a bit short compared to me.”” He said, about to collect the cards, but I gently pressed his wrist: “”What’s the rush? The dealer hasn’t finished drawing cards yet.”” Derek froze, then raised an eyebrow: “”Oh? You dare to draw another card at 18 points? I’d like to see how you bust.”” I drew a card from the deck. Instead of flipping it immediately, I pinched the corner of the card and spun it half a turn. Derek’s gaze was practically fixed on that card. The smile on his lips hadn’t dropped once: “”Hurry up and flip it! Are you scared? I told you early on that you’re no match for me.”” 4 Before he finished speaking, I had slapped the card on the table. A Spade 3, totaling exactly 21 points. The air instantly solidified. Derek’s smile froze on his face. He abruptly leaned forward, his finger pointing at the Spade 3, his voice changing pitch: “”Impossible! How did you get a 3?”” He frantically flipped over my cards one by one—Heart 6, Diamond 5, Spade 3. The sum of the numbers was clearly laid out before him. His earlier arrogant mockery was all caught in his throat. He stared wide-eyed, his ears turning from flushed to crimson, his fingers unconsciously clenching the tablecloth, his breathing becoming ragged: “”What’s wrong with these cards? Did you cheat?”” I gathered the cards again and pushed them towards him: “”A bet is a bet. Or are you going to go back on your word?”” “”This is impossible, you cheated!”” Derek roared, slamming his fist on the table. He glared at me, his eyes red: “”Didn’t you say you never gambled? Are you playing dirty?!”” “”I don’t gamble, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how. A bet is a bet.”” I smiled faintly, turning my head to glance at Selena. Selena was now stunned, her pupils dilated. She looked at me in astonishment: “”You won?”” “”Aren’t you happy I won? I can save you right away.”” I smiled slightly. Selena nodded: “”Happy. I’m really happy for you.”” Watching her force a smile, I remained silent, not exposing her true thoughts. “”Now, can we leave? When will Mr. Jensen transfer the assets to me?”” I looked at Derek, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Derek tore the contract in his hand into shreds. He laughed ferociously: “”Hahahaha, do you understand the law? From a legal standpoint, this contract has no legal effect whatsoever. The Civil Code explicitly prohibits gambling and civil acts for gambling purposes. An agreement centered around gambling is directly considered invalid because it ‘violates mandatory provisions of laws and administrative regulations.’”” “”Dream on about taking my family fortune.”” Derek smugly scattered the contract fragments across the floor. I raised an eyebrow slightly: “”I didn’t expect you to be quite clever, making thorough preparations, even thinking of an escape route beforehand.”” Such a gambling agreement, legally speaking, indeed had no legal effect. Even if both parties agreed, the old guard on the board wouldn’t approve. But with this agreement, I could make a big deal out of it. I had thought of a perfect plan from the beginning. “”I’m the Young Gambling King. How could you possibly beat me?”” Derek gritted his teeth. I chuckled: “”Because I can feel the value of each card with my fingers.”” “”That’s impossible!”” Derek countered, then fanned out the cards, looking at me. “”I don’t believe it, unless you demonstrate it now.”” “”Alright, to convince you.”” I reached out, touched a card, and said calmly: “”Spade Ace.”” “”Again.”” Derek was unconvinced. I touched three more cards, saying: “”Diamond Four, Heart Three, Club Six. How’s that? Did I get them right?”” “”Rumor has it that only the legendary ‘Ghost Hand’ Gambling King knew this trick of feeling cards with his fingertips. Could you be… the son of the Gambling King?”” Derek’s eyes widened in shock, looking at me incredulously. I stared back, not speaking, just smiling faintly. He swallowed, wanting to say something but closed his mouth, wary. Having grown up in casinos, he naturally knew my father’s name. Although my father had retired from gambling for many years, his legends and connections still circulated in the underworld. My father was famous in the gambling world back then, known to everyone, though few knew his real name, only revering him as the Gambling King. Thirty years ago, my father rose to prominence in the Hong Kong and Macau region, but he also secretly offended many enemies. After several assassination attempts, my father came to the mainland with his money, starting his business with his first pot of gold from gambling. The old poker deck with ivory edges in my father’s study was a testament to his reign in the entertainment city casinos. After his real estate business stabilized, my father married and had children. On the day I was born, he, in front of everyone, threw that deck of cards, which had won countless fortunes, into a brazier, completely retiring from gambling. He even chopped up the mahjong table at home for firewood. My father used to say that the card table was an abyss: however crazy you were when you won, that’s how miserable you would be when you lost. 5 “”A bet is a bet. Let her down.”” I looked at Selena, who was still dangling. Derek chuckled: “”I don’t care who you are, you’re not leaving today. I only wanted your assets initially, but if you insist on opposing me, I’ll have no choice but to be ruthless.”” “”Do you know about human sacrifice for building foundations? Today, I’ll use you to consecrate my family’s new development. Get him.”” Derek commanded, and several bodyguards immediately rushed towards me. I stretched my limbs and chuckled, “”Bring it on. You only get one chance to take me down.”” Derek retreated to a safe distance, watching me and yelling: “”So what if you have ghost hands? So what if you have a Gambling King for a father? Today, you’re going down.”” The bodyguards swarmed me, their moves vicious and aimed to kill. But I wasn’t to be underestimated. Every punch I threw landed with power, and in less than half an hour, I had knocked down a dozen bodyguards. I twisted my neck and walked towards Derek: “”Your turn.”” “”I underestimated you, you’re quite a fighter.”” Derek was shocked, then gritted his teeth and glared at me, seemingly not expecting my formidable skills. I had boxed underground for a few years, a fact many people didn’t know. “”Being a good fighter is useless, you bastard. You wait for me.”” Derek stood on the edge of the rooftop, gave me the middle finger, and then leaped off. Selena screamed, but then saw Derek had a paraglider strapped to his back. After jumping, he quickly deployed the paraglider and flew into the nearest patch of woods. A coward, thoroughly prepared. Even if he hadn’t anticipated my gambling and fighting skills, he had still made sure he was foolproof. The bodyguards on the ground, seeing their boss flee, also scrambled up and ran towards the stairwell. Only Selena and I were left. Selena’s voice was hoarse from crying. Her face was pale and distraught: “”Jason, please put me down.”” I gently lowered her and held her in my arms: “”Are you alright?”” “”I, I’m fine. I knew you would win,”” Selena said, reaching up to touch my face, forcing a smile. “”I’ll do anything for you. Thankfully I won, otherwise, you would truly suffer with me in the future. I didn’t know you would be willing to sacrifice so much for me. I failed to protect you, but I promise I will never let you get hurt again.”” I looked into her eyes, full of tenderness. Selena’s complexion was very poor, likely due to being suspended for too long. She was about to speak, but her eyes rolled back, and she fainted. I immediately took her to the hospital. The doctor said she was just traumatized and needed to be hospitalized for a few days for observation. When Selena woke up, it was already evening. I sat by her hospital bed, holding her hand. “”You’re awake. I was so worried about you,”” I said. “”What happened to me?”” Selena asked weakly. I poured her a glass of warm water, then said through gritted teeth: “”You were so frightened you almost had a miscarriage. The doctor said you must stay in the hospital for observation now.”” “”Is the baby okay?”” Selena immediately clutched her stomach in alarm. I comforted her for a while, telling her she had to stay in bed for a few days. Then I added: “”You rest well. I’m going to the police station now to report this. We absolutely cannot let that scoundrel who hurt you get away with it.”” “”No.”” Selena grabbed my hand, her voice clearly anxious. I frowned, looking at her in confusion: “”What’s wrong? That bastard Derek hurt you and almost killed our child. I must make him pay. I’m going to accuse him of kidnapping and assault.”” Selena shook her head. “”Can we report it after I’m discharged? Or, after the bid is over, then deal with these things. I don’t want you to be distracted because of me.”” At Selena’s repeated pleas, I agreed not to call the police for now. But I still gritted my teeth and said, “”I won’t let him off the hook.”””

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After Women’s Day, my CEO wife created a “Men’s Day” and gave every male employee a gaming keyboard—except me. I overheard colleagues in the break room: “She set this up just for her boyfriend Liam. Even bought him a high-end gaming PC.” “He keeps bothering the CEO. No wonder she’s avoiding him.” I remembered the flashy setup the intern Noah got this morning. Amy never gave me a gift, not even on anniversaries. Lately, she’s been distant, only talking about work worries. I turned down Gray Corp’s offer to help her startup, worked tirelessly, even agreed to a secret marriage. All I got was her silence during rumors and clear favoritism toward the intern. Holding the hard drive with the latest tech, I called Gray Corp. “Deal. Technology for equity.” … A few seconds of silence, then Hannah Gray, known as the “tech industry’s Iron Lady,” couldn’t hide the excitement in her voice. “Charles, don’t worry. I guarantee your decision will be the best choice you’ve ever made! Tomorrow’s Eastern Pacific tender, with your technology, we’re set!” As soon as I agreed, the phone in my hand was snatched away. I turned to meet Amy Quinn’s cold gaze, a group of gloating employees standing behind her. She ended my call without a glance, her tone icy. “It’s just a keyboard. As a tech lead, do you really need to make a scene at HR? If word gets out, people will think Noah is deliberately making things difficult for you. Where would that leave him?” A bitter smile played on my lips— I hadn’t even reached HR, and she was already so worried about Noah. But for the past year, in the eyes of colleagues, I’d become a lecherous man destroying her and her boyfriend’s relationship, with vicious rumors flying everywhere, yet she acted deaf and ignored it all. Seeing the boss angry, the others naturally understood and joined in with harsh words. “Manager Gray, being an old bachelor, probably never received a keyboard before. Is that why he’s so sensitive?” “Are home-wreckers always this shameless? Ms. Quinn tried to avoid you and not give you a keyboard, but you still insisted on coming over!” “Men’s Day, as the name suggests, is for young, handsome guys like Noah and us. What’s an old fossil like you even thinking?” Every word pierced me like an arrow. Amy Quinn’s face, however, showed no ripple of emotion— I instantly understood that they were probably her mouthpieces, which was why she was so calm. I trembled with anger, looking coldly at this woman I’d been married to for seven years. “I am also a male employee of the company. Is there a problem with me fighting for the benefits I’m entitled to?” Seeing my eyes redden, a flicker of emotion finally crossed Amy Quinn’s face, and she sighed lightly. “If you want—” Noah Dubois suddenly appeared, clutching the gaming rig, and interrupted her, sobbing. “Manager Gray, it’s my fault. As an intern, I don’t deserve this! If you like it, take it. Please don’t use your managerial position to pressure me. I’m really scared!” His few close colleagues in the company also stepped forward, complaining passive-aggressively. “This morning, as soon as Noah received the keyboard, Manager Gray made him print hundreds of pages of garbled files within an hour. Noah stood by the printer until his back was breaking, but what came out was clearly useless paper that no one would read. Isn’t this blatant workplace bullying?” Amy Quinn saw the pile of half-printed documents on the desk, and that hint of emotion on her face instantly vanished. She pulled out a stack of what looked like gibberish, angrily tore it to shreds, and scattered it all over me. “And I thought about compensating you. Our Quinn Industries has always valued employee care as its corporate culture. You, a degenerate who bullies subordinates, are utterly disgraceful!” Behind the scattered papers were Noah and his friends’ triumphant smiles. But Amy Quinn didn’t know that what was written on those papers was my latest technical report, which I had slaved over for five sleepless nights. I had asked the intern to print it this morning because I wanted to present it to Eastern Pacific Group, the largest client in the industry, before the bidding closed, to secure the project directly. She grabbed another stack of papers and savagely slapped them across my face. “Apologize to Noah, now!” The sharp edges of the A4 paper left several cuts on my face. The tingling pain, however, was nothing compared to the desolation in my heart. I bent down to pick up the documents I had painstakingly worked on, my voice as cold as my heart. “He didn’t follow my instructions to produce the files within an hour this morning because he wanted to show off his new equipment. He’s the one who should apologize!” 2 Amy Quinn’s face grew even darker. She stepped forward and grabbed my collar. “Charles Gray, when did you become so deceitful and malicious? You’re clearly in the wrong, and for a bit of jealousy, you’d abandon all dignity? Kneel down and apologize to Noah, and I… I might let you stay on the team!” The crowd of petty people erupted. “You old home-wrecker, using your position to bully and harass the rightful person, and you still have the nerve to demand an apology?” “A pile of waste paper, wasting company resources and disrupting our work. What right does such a selfish, lowlife man have to be a manager?” “You usually know you’re cheap. You don’t even take salary or benefits, just cling to Ms. Quinn. Today, for a measly flower, you finally couldn’t keep up the act, could you?” I couldn’t help but let out a self-deprecating laugh— When Amy Quinn and I married, she was penniless, but she knew I liked to relax by playing games, and she often saved up to buy me gaming equipment. Our lives were humble then, but our hearts were full. Until she clamored to start her own business, pinching every penny, with no time to buy me equipment. As a renowned tech expert in the industry, I had no choice but to invest my money and efforts to support her. It wasn’t until last year, when the company began to thrive, expanding its team and hiring many interns, that she aimed to capture the market. I watched her every step of the way, knowing her struggles as an entrepreneur, so I joined Quinn Industries without a salary, giving all benefits to the new recruits. Even when rumors about her and Noah reached my ears, Even knowing that Noah, an intern, could expense anything without receipts or limits, Even though he’d been here only a year and couldn’t even manage basic printing, his year-end bonus was a sports car, I believed Amy Quinn’s explanation, “to show care for subordinates and enhance team cohesion.” But for today’s benefit, I always thought, given my preferences, she surely wouldn’t omit me. Yet, I never expected that my years of silent endurance and support would only be seen by everyone as undeserving. I pointed at the data on the document, looking at Amy Quinn with heartache. “This is the technical data I created with my blood and sweat. If it had been completed according to my timeline this morning, this document alone could have secured the Eastern Pacific bid ahead of time. Now it’s all ruined. Shouldn’t he be the one to go?” Noah, whom I was pointing at, his eyes darted around, then tears streamed down his face. “Manager Gray, I just got Ms. Quinn’s favor, and you’re setting such a malicious trap for me? No wonder you gave me a time limit to print so many documents. It turns out you couldn’t develop the software Ms. Quinn requested and were afraid of losing tomorrow’s bid, so you wanted to blame me! Are you really going to harm me just to cling to Ms. Quinn?” Others also chimed in. “I heard Ms. Quinn has been dissatisfied with the tech department for not breaking through the bottleneck for a year. This old fox is cunning, using Noah as a scapegoat!” “So it didn’t matter if the printed documents were garbled. It was just to give Noah an impossible task, purely for blame-shifting!” “How insidious! No wonder a man tries to climb the ladder by being a home-wrecker. Turns out he knows he’s incompetent!” Amy Quinn’s eyes were like daggers. She shoved me onto the pile of documents on the floor. “You’re truly scheming to calculate against Noah! I wondered why you volunteered for the tech work and then went quiet for so long. Turns out you were spending all your time plotting against Noah! Apologize to Noah immediately, or don’t even think about staying with the company!” But she forgot, back when the company was just starting and couldn’t afford employees, I often filled in for all positions. Including printing hundreds of pages within an hour, which she always considered basic. But when it came to Noah, it became me deliberately making things difficult. I gave a desolate smile, stood up, brushed off the paper scraps, took off my ID badge, and packed my belongings. “No need for threats. I’m quitting right now!” I printed another document, signed it, and handed it to her. “Sign this, and I’ll send you the mailing address.” Seeing the words “Divorce Agreement,” Amy Quinn froze, then instinctively grabbed me as I was about to leave— 3 Others assumed I was handing her a resignation letter and cheered. Only Noah, seeing her hold me back, his face instantly clouded over. He quickly pulled Amy Quinn’s arm away. “Ms. Quinn, are you trying to drag Manager Gray back to apologize to me? If he resigns as an apology, I might not be able to accept it…” Amy Quinn then recovered herself. Always mindful of her boss image, she quickly nodded along with his words. “Exactly, how can I let this scoundrel leave so easily?” She yanked me back, pressing me hard against the wall. “If I win the bid tomorrow, I’ll be a legendary heroine in the business world! How can you just leave at a time like this?” The fierce and unwilling look in her eyes, made it impossible for me to tell if she was keeping me for the bid, or for a love that had been worn down to a mere inconvenience by time. But I had long lost the interest to guess her thoughts. My heart like ashes, I stared straight into her eyes. “Since you think I’m incompetent, and you resent me for interfering with your love life, why stop me?” Amy Quinn’s face stiffened. She glanced at Noah behind her, making a clumsy attempt to cover up. “You’re neglecting your duties and bullying a colleague. Don’t drag me into it!” Then she leaned in, gritting her teeth and whispering. “Just because I’ve been busy with work these past few months and a bit less intimate in bed, you’re going to make a fuss over a keyboard and turn everything upside down?” I shook my head, speechless, and forcefully pushed her away. The contents of the cardboard box in my arms scattered across the floor. Noah immediately picked up the most conspicuous item, a photo album. He opened it and sneered. “No wonder Manager Gray is in such a hurry to leave Quinn Industries. Turns out he saw Ms. Quinn was out of reach and found someone new!” Others glanced at it and followed suit with mocking laughter. “Today, seeing he didn’t even get a keyboard, he knew Ms. Quinn was a lost cause and started looking for a new sugar mommy. How utterly pathetic! Looks like he’s been eagerly riding cars to hook up with new targets. Shameless!” But Amy Quinn’s face turned ashen as she looked at the contents— The album contained no photos, only train tickets. It was from college, during the National Computer Competition. She, as part of their school’s logistics team, fell for me at first sight and confessed passionately. But back then, I was already the school’s renowned prodigy, unmatched in software technology. Compared to her, a student who liked to play all sides and often failed classes, we were worlds apart. I gently rejected her, but after the competition, she came back again and again, even standing for hours on trains, to win me over. Moved by her persistence, I agreed to a relationship. When we got married, she gave me an album made of all those tickets, tears streaming down her face as she hugged me. “It took me thousands of miles to catch you. How could I not cherish you?” But now, this album of tickets had become the most ridiculous irony. Seeing my silence, the employees assumed they had guessed my illicit affair. They immediately took out their phones, pointed them at my face, and started a live stream. “I’ve never seen such a shameless kept man. Failing with one, he immediately goes to ruin the next. Everyone beware!” Instantly, my swollen face, paired with the title “Most Afraid of an Old Kept Man Who Tries Hard,” spread across the entire internet. Netizens delighted in the gossip, defamation flowing freely. “So old and still wanting to be a mistress. Isn’t earning money in bed tiring?” “Who told him he’s incompetent? No skills, so he has to rely on his body!” Some also questioned. “This man looks familiar. He seems to have won many tech awards before. He should earn quite a bit of money. Is it really necessary to be a kept man?” Seeing the public outcry, I was furious. I grabbed Amy Quinn’s collar. “Whether I’m a kept man or not, you know best. Tell everyone…”

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The day I was diagnosed with cancer, I walked in on my wife cheating with a young man and transferring assets. Just as I was about to confront the despicable pair, a body-swapping system suddenly bound to me. The system stated that I could swap identities with any same-sex target at any time. Watching my wife and the young man in each other’s arms, I smiled. From then on, she wanted a car? Buy. Wanted money? Transfer. Wanted the company? Sign it over. She thought she was draining me, but she was digging her own grave. I cooperated with her to transfer every penny, signing every debt in her name. When she had squeezed the last drop of blood from me, planning to run off with her lover. I closed my eyes and activated the body-swapping system. The assets were all mine, and the cancer was his! … “Honey, Summer invited me to the riverside to take photos. She said they just built a new trendy spot there.” My wife, Amelia, was dressed exceptionally beautifully today, applying lipstick over and over in front of the mirror. I nodded, not giving it much thought. “Alright, go ahead then. After the photos, you can stroll through the pedestrian street. Do you have enough money?” Amelia immediately pouted and walked over, shaking my arm, her voice soft and sweet. “Oh, I just got a new phone, so I only have living expenses left. I don’t even dare to go shopping.” Her playful demeanor and expression were exactly the same as when we were dating. Amelia herself was charming and lovely. When she pouted, she nearly melted my heart. Normally, I’d fall for it every time. I picked up my phone, smiled, and transferred twenty thousand dollars to her. “Tell me if it’s not enough. Have fun, buy whatever you like.” “You’re the best, honey! Love you!” Amelia stood on tiptoe, left a lipstick mark on my cheek, then picked up her small purse and click-clacked out the door in her high heels. I wiped away the mark on my face, a touch of bitterness in my heart. Five years of marriage. Although work kept me busy, Amelia and I had always had a good relationship. She loved to spend and shop, and I indulged her. The company was doing well, so a little extra spending was no big deal. But she didn’t know that my last physical had confirmed I had pancreatic cancer. I… wouldn’t live another year! At two in the afternoon, I drove to the office, ready to rush through a batch of contracts. The intersection ahead was completely blocked. I leaned out to look, a traffic officer directing, seemingly due to an accident. This road had heavy traffic; a blockage would last at least half an hour. I simply turned around, taking a detour through the business district. While waiting at a red light, I casually glanced out the window. That one glance made my heart skip a beat. In front of a glass door at the mall across the street, a woman was taking photos. A white dress, black stockings, smiling with eyes curved. Wasn’t that my wife, Amelia? But the one holding the phone and taking pictures for her wasn’t her best friend, Summer, but a young man. Buzz cut, sportswear, his muscles straining against his T-shirt. After taking a photo, Amelia jogged over to look, then practically hung onto his arm. They were laughing and chatting, their poses intimate. “Beep beep beep—” The light turned green, and the cars behind honked. I snapped out of it, stomped on the gas, then pulled over. In the rearview mirror, my face was expressionless, but my eyes were frighteningly red. I took off my suit jacket, tossed it into the car, and rummaged through the trunk for a baseball cap to put on. After getting out, I quickly walked towards the mall. Tracking them was easier than I expected. To ensure I kept up without being noticed, I maintained a distance of about twenty yards. The two were too engrossed, completely unaware of the man in the cap behind them. They first went to the food court on the basement level and got two milk teas. Amelia took a sip from one, then stood on tiptoe and put the straw into the man’s mouth. He wrapped an arm around her waist and took a big gulp. Their movements were practiced and natural, like a couple deeply in love. I clenched my fists, my gaze fixed on the two despicable creatures. After a few sips of milk tea, they took the escalator to the cinema on the fifth floor. I didn’t buy a ticket, only watching them go in. Outside the ticket booth, I leaned against the wall, staring at the exit. The wait was agonizing. I checked my phone countless times, each time only two or three minutes had passed. I don’t know how long it was, but the door opened, and their figures reappeared. My first thought was that Amelia’s state wasn’t right. Her face was abnormally red, her hair was messy, and her long dress seemed disheveled. She was trying to straighten her skirt with her hand. Looking at the man again, there was a lipstick mark on his face, and a section of his T-shirt hem wasn’t tucked in, as if he’d hastily tidied himself. As someone who’d been there, I was all too familiar with that state. Watching a movie? More like a live show. A rush of blood went to my head. I clenched my fists, took a step forward, determined to tear into that despicable pair. Just then, a mechanical voice exploded in my mind. [Ding! Identity Swap System successfully bound!] [Host can swap identities with any same-sex target at any time!] What the hell? Identity swap? I stared at the man’s back, a glint of light flashing in my eyes. After returning home, I immediately took action. Having started my business years ago, I had carved a path in a fiercely competitive industry. My network and resources were not to be underestimated. I knew plenty of people on both the legitimate and less-than-legitimate sides of things. I went straight to the city’s most professional private investigator, old Mr. Jenkins. He used to be a soldier, then a police officer, but after making a mistake, he was dismissed and started working as a private detective. While tracking Amelia, I secretly took a few front-facing photos of the two of them. I handed the photos to Mr. Jenkins, instructing him: “Mr. Jenkins, I need your help. Money is no object. I need detailed investigation reports as soon as possible!” Mr. Jenkins pocketed the photos. “Don’t worry, I know what to do.” With a generous reward, Mr. Jenkins’ efficiency was astounding. In less than a week, he had everything uncovered. In the agreed-upon private room at the tea house, Mr. Jenkins handed me a manila envelope, looking at me with a touch of sympathy. “Mr. Anderson, it’s all clear. The young man is named Sam Wilton, 27, unemployed, lives at The Gilded Manor, Unit 1203. All his information and photos are inside. You can review them yourself.” I nodded, signaling him to drink his tea first. The envelope was thick and bulging with documents. I untied the string and pulled out the top stack of photos. The first one: Amelia walking into a hotel with Sam, at three in the afternoon. The second: Amelia applying sunscreen to Sam by the pool. Sam was shirtless, Amelia only wearing a bikini. The third: Amelia passionately kissing Sam in a car, parked in a deserted area, the windows half-open. I calmly flipped through each photo, a vein throbbing in my temple. “Bastard!” I couldn’t hold back, slapping the table and cursing aloud. Mr. Jenkins didn’t say a word, pouring me a cup of tea. I never expected Amelia, who always presented herself as a goddess to me, to be so utterly devoted to an unemployed loafer. Though, to be fair, Sam was young, handsome, and in good shape—definitely the type women found attractive. I wasn’t bad-looking myself once, but after years of building my business, I had to pour my life into it. This led to weight gain, darker skin, and my energy was nowhere near what it used to be. Composing myself, I set the photos aside and continued reading the documents. Sam Wilton, 27, high school dropout, worked in sales, as a fitness instructor, and in nightclubs. Currently lives at The Gilded Manor 1203, monthly rent five thousand, drives a new BMW 320 bought last year. His spending records were also attached. Under normal circumstances, this guy hadn’t worked in over a year, but his spending was not low. He went to a bar almost every night, ate at brand-name restaurants in the mall, and bought trendy clothes and shoes. An unemployed man, where did he get the money? It wasn’t until I saw Amelia’s bank statements that I understood. Amelia’s transaction records over the past two years far exceeded previous years. A series of transfers, clear and piercing, some for a few thousand, many for tens of thousands. The largest single transfer was last June, a full hundred thousand. Some of that money was for clothes and bags I bought her, some she claimed was for stocks and funds, and some I gave her to help with her company’s cash flow. No wonder she had become so lavish with her spending these past two years. I thought I had spoiled her, but it turned out all the money was going into Sam’s pocket. “Mr. Anderson, take a look at this.” Mr. Jenkins suddenly spoke, pulling a sheet of paper from the very bottom of the file. “I used quite a few connections to dig this up.” I took it curiously. It was a company registration form. “Summit Commerce LLC” Legal Representative: Sam Wilton. Registration Date: One year ago. When I saw the shareholder information section, my pupils abruptly contracted. Shareholder: Evergreen Apparel Co., Ltd., holding 80% shares. Investment Amount: One million dollars. Evergreen Apparel was the company under Amelia’s name. Seeing this, I understood everything. A year ago, Amelia had told me that due to market impact, her company had lost several major clients, and profits had significantly declined. She said she had adjusted her strategy and was confident of a comeback. At the time, I praised her for her courage. But it turned out she wasn’t facing operational difficulties; she was transferring assets. Using the money I earned to register a company, listing her lover as the legal representative. When the time was ripe, she could directly absorb all of Evergreen Apparel, then take the money and that young man and vanish. And me? I would probably foolishly continue to make money, continue to spend on her, until I was drained and finally kicked aside. I took a deep breath, neatly stacked the photos and documents, and put them back in the file. “Thank you for your hard work. The remaining payment will be transferred to you immediately.” Mr. Jenkins nodded, then hesitated. “Mr. Anderson, I’ve seen a lot of this kind of thing. If you need anything further, you can always find me.” “No need,” I interrupted him, picking up the now-cold tea and draining it. “I’ll handle the rest myself.” With the body-swapping system at hand, did I still need to fear Amelia transferring assets? I didn’t even need to fear pancreatic cancer anymore! “Honey, look at this!” Amelia shoved her phone in my face. In the short video, a female car owner was showing off an automatic parking feature, the car turning its steering wheel on its own, precisely parking into a spot. “Modern domestic new energy vehicles are so smart, they can even self-park! You know I hate parking the most, I sweat every time I reverse. Could you… buy one for me?” Amelia leaned in, looked up at me, her voice soft as cotton candy. I glanced at the screen. The latest model of a certain brand’s electric car, even the lowest trim, cost at least thirty thousand. I sneered inwardly. Quite an appetite. Was she rushing to accelerate the process, seeing that I hadn’t been completely drained yet? However, this was exactly what I wanted. I put down my phone and nodded seriously: “Okay, supporting domestic brands starts with us. If we’re buying, let’s get the top trim. I’ll have accounting transfer fifty thousand to you tomorrow. If it’s not enough, we’ll add more.” Amelia paused, probably not expecting it to be so smooth. The next second, she sprang up from the sofa, jumped onto me, and wrapped her arms tightly around my neck: “You’re the best, honey! I love you so much!” “I’ll go run a bath for you!” She put me down and ran towards the bathroom, then halfway there, she turned back and winked at me, “Tonight… I’m going to reward you properly. You can do anything you want.” Despite her allure, I felt no stir of emotion. The thought of her with that young man made me sick to my stomach. I put on a tired expression: “The company’s been busy lately, a lot of pressure. I’m too exhausted today. I just want a good night’s sleep.” “Then I’ll give you a massage later,” Amelia said, not thinking much of it, and turned to run the bath. In the days that followed, Amelia’s requests for money became more frequent, and her reasons more outlandish. “Honey, my best friend Chloe said she wants to buy a house and is a little short on cash. I promised to lend her a hundred thousand.” “Honey, my cousin, you’ve met him, he’s in debt from online loans and people are cornering him at home. He’s begging me for fifteen thousand to save him.” “Honey, my grandfather had a heart attack and needs surgery. It’s twenty thousand.” To all her requests, my answer was one word: “Yes!” Two months later, our household savings hit rock bottom. The company’s liquid funds were also almost depleted. But it wasn’t enough. This amount of money was far from what she needed to “fly away with her lover.” Moreover, my body couldn’t wait any longer. In these two months, besides playing along with her, I also had to contend with my terminal illness. Late-stage pancreatic cancer was no joke. At first, it was just a mild pain, but it gradually worsened until one night I woke up from the sheer agony. I bit into my pillow, drenched in a cold sweat, not daring to make a sound, afraid of waking Amelia next door. During a follow-up visit, the doctor frowned at the scans: “It’s not being controlled effectively. The spread is faster than expected…” If that was the case, perhaps I should help her, speed things up. That evening at dinner, I deliberately sighed. “What’s wrong, honey?” Amelia asked with concern, but a hint of wariness was hidden in her eyes. She was probably afraid I would stop her financial supply. I put down my chopsticks and frowned, “There’s a big project recently that requires expanding our production scale. I’m thinking of mortgaging the company and borrowing ten million to take a gamble, but the risk is significant. If the project fails, the company might go bankrupt.” She didn’t speak, her eyes darting around, wondering what I was thinking. I held her hand. “How about we get a fake divorce? We’ll get the divorce certificate first, and then I’ll put the mortgaged company money under your name. Even if something happens to the company, I’ll bear the debt alone. It’s just that you’ll be ‘inconvenienced’ with a divorce on your record.” Amelia froze. She probably hadn’t expected me to not only willingly allow her to drain my assets but also proactively suggest divorce and give her a huge sum of money. She barely suppressed the curve of her lips, squeezing out a few tears from the corners of her eyes. “Honey, don’t worry. Even if you truly lose everything, I will never leave you.” At that moment, I even admired her acting skills. If I hadn’t seen those photos, hadn’t found those transfers, I might have actually believed her. The paperwork was processed quickly. Legal representative change, mortgage loan, asset transfer. I actively cooperated with every step, signing and stamping. Once everything was settled, Amelia’s attitude began to change. She came home later and later, her gaze towards me growing colder. Finally, one evening, Amelia linked her arm with mine and said cheerfully, “Honey, I want to go on a trip for a few days.” “Where to?” I asked subconsciously. Amelia blinked her big eyes. “Haven’t decided yet, just wherever the road takes me.” My heart stirred. I knew Amelia was preparing to flee. “Alright, go ahead. Have a good time.” The next morning, Amelia left the house, dragging her suitcase. The door closed. Her footsteps gradually faded away. The moment she left, I immediately woke up. Then, I closed my eyes and silently recited in my mind.

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At 3 AM, I was suddenly woken up by a call from building management. Opening my phone, I saw someone had tagged me in the residents’ group chat. [Unit 1601, have you no shame? Screaming every night at this hour, afraid no one knows you’re making babies, are you?!] [My daughter just started college, and now you’ve made her precocious.] [If you dare to scream again, I’ll go live from my apartment and let everyone know how shameless you are!] The neighbor downstairs kept yelling at me, and other residents chimed in, saying my screams disturbed them. But I wasn’t even home! Considering the possibility of my husband’s infidelity, I quickly turned on the bedroom monitor. The moment I saw the woman in the bed clearly, I smiled. Isn’t that the college-aged daughter from downstairs? 1 After a week of back-to-back meetings out of town, all I wanted was to get home and catch up on sleep. At three in the morning, the driver had just gotten onto the highway. Lying in the back seat, I was jolted awake by an unexpected call from building management. Opening the residents’ group chat, I saw it was Helen Carter downstairs making a fuss again. Ever since she moved in below me, she’d either complain about our heavy footsteps disturbing her sleep, or about our frequent guests making the elevator pass her unit too often. She’d tagged me countless times over minor and major issues. Seeing her latest accusation was completely baseless, I initially didn’t plan to respond. But neighbors who usually stayed quiet in the chat also chimed in. [Everyone understands these things, but the noise is too loud. It’s really disruptive, 1601, you should be more careful.] [This is a school district. Everyone has underage kids. Yesterday, my son also asked me what that noise was. It’s really hard to explain.] Seeing everyone’s comments, I was bewildered. If only Helen had heard it, she might be deliberately causing trouble. But I didn’t have conflicts with other neighbors normally, so they had no reason to falsely accuse me. Perhaps they mistook noise from another unit for coming from mine. Thinking this, I sent a screenshot of my meeting records from out of town last night and my current location to the group. “I haven’t been home for the past two days. You must have the wrong person.” After I explained, the group fell silent. Five minutes later, Helen sent a scornful voice message. [I pressed my ear against the door, and the sound definitely came from your unit. If not you, then who?] My heart sank, and I quickly considered the possibility of my husband’s infidelity. But we’d known each other since high school, endured a difficult long-distance relationship through college, and built everything we had today together through our joint venture. After so many years of marriage, I really couldn’t believe he would cheat. Another neighbor tagged me in the chat, [1601, we know your husband has stamina, but can you please keep it down!] I gripped my trembling hand, typing a reply in the group. “I’m not home. Please wait, I’m checking the surveillance.” My best friend had convinced me to secretly install cameras in the bedroom. She said our assets were substantial now, and I traveled frequently, so divorce might be inevitable someday. If my husband cheated first, the cameras might capture evidence. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. But now, I actually saw my husband and another woman in the surveillance footage! The woman happened to turn her head. The moment I saw her, I froze. Isn’t that Helen Carter’s college-aged daughter?! 2 I stared at the screen in disbelief, my body shaking uncontrollably. At that moment, I knew for sure that the man who had struggled alongside me had cheated. And I didn’t even know when he had gotten involved with his mistress. Helen’s angry messages continued to flood the group. I was furious and resentful, but I also knew that the most urgent thing wasn’t to retaliate, but to preserve evidence and catch them in the act! Over the years, my husband Mark and I had accumulated tens of millions in shared assets. Since he was the one who cheated first, I was determined to take as much money as possible during the divorce. I quickly contacted my best friend, who was a lawyer. Upon learning of Mark’s infidelity, she cursed him a few times, then asked, “How long until you get home?” I looked up at the driver. He had already sensed that something was wrong from my conversation with my best friend, and had significantly increased the car’s speed. He turned back and told me, “Two hours.” My best friend immediately began contacting a private investigator to help me gather evidence. She also cautioned me not to tip them off before I got home. If people in the community decided to knock on my door, I should incite them to go together in the group chat, ensuring there would be witnesses. Before hanging up, she said: “Anna, be careful on the road. Don’t let yourself get sick over a man who isn’t worth it.” From the moment I discovered Mark’s infidelity, I had only felt surprise and anger. But after seeing my best friend’s message, tears still stubbornly fell onto my phone. No time to dwell on my past with Mark, Helen, seeing that I wasn’t responding, initiated a group voice call. I casually hung up. Helen continued to post in the group. [Oh, so you can see the group messages. Why are you silent then?] [Are you pretending to be a victim who just found out her husband cheated?] [I saw your car this afternoon. You’re home. Now you’re afraid to admit it?] [You were so loud when you were screaming, now you’re ashamed?] I explained again that I was indeed on the highway and wouldn’t be home for another hour and a half. Helen still didn’t believe me. [If that woman upstairs really isn’t you, I’ll not only apologize to you publicly, but I’ll personally help you catch them, and smash that mistress’s face in!] I seized the opportunity, following Helen’s words, and said: “Then I’m afraid I’ll really have to trouble you, Helen, to smash that mistress’s face in.” “I saw on the monitor that those animals are sleeping right now.” “I’ll be home in an hour and a half. Please don’t alert them yet. When I get to the complex, I’d appreciate it if any neighbors who are awake would come with me to catch them in the act and help me seek justice!” The people in the group just wanted to watch the drama; no one really wanted to get involved in this messy situation. When I invited them to catch the cheaters, the group instantly fell silent. Only Helen was still cursing me. [You bitch, for sympathy, you’re denying this, even ruining your own husband’s reputation!] [Others don’t know you, but I do!] [When my house was being renovated, you pretended to be sick and said you needed to sleep, telling the workers to be quiet, which delayed my move-in by a month!] [Later, you hit and killed my dog with your car, but stubbornly claimed you had a leg injury and weren’t driving at all.] [You sly manipulative woman, this time I’ll make you pay!] I remembered both incidents Helen mentioned. Because this complex was close to my company, I was one of the first residents to move in. At the time, many people were indeed still renovating. Everyone renovated during the day, but Helen, wanting to supervise herself, insisted on having workers only after working hours. I approached Helen to discuss this several times, but she would just sneer after sizing up my clothes. “How would a pampered wife like you know how much we’ve sacrificed for this apartment? Of course, I need to supervise the renovation carefully. If it’s too noisy, go stay in a hotel!” At the time, I was running a high fever and didn’t have the energy to argue with her, so I called the police directly. Helen then began renovating during the day, but after moving in, she felt I had delayed her renovation progress and demanded 100,000 in compensation for emotional distress. I completely ignored her. But a month later, as I was driving out, her daughter, walking her dog, ran directly towards my car. Even though I slammed on the brakes, I still hit the dog, and it died instantly. Helen and my husband both rushed to the scene. Helen hysterically claimed the dog was part of their family and demanded 200,000 in compensation. I insisted on legal procedures, and my husband immediately called the police. When the police questioned Helen’s daughter, she was so frightened she just cried, and ultimately the dashcam proved my innocence. Out of humanitarianism, I paid 50,000. Helen grumbled her dissatisfaction, cursing that I would definitely get my comeuppance. My husband silently watched the distant Clara Doyle. That, I believe, must have been their first meeting. And now, they were lying in the same bed. 3 I didn’t rush to explain the truth in the group chat, but quickly relayed my new discovery to my best friend. “Clara Doyle and Mark likely started communicating after I hit that dog.” My best friend, armed with the private investigator’s findings, helped me trace Mark’s infidelity timeline. March 10, 2025: Mark first met Clara Doyle. June 23: Clara Doyle, claiming her water heater was broken, went upstairs to Mark’s apartment for a shower while I was away. August 15: The two entered a hotel together, one after the other. As of today, nearly seven months later, they had met 53 times, and Mark had spent two million from our joint account on her. The wedding apartment my parents gave me before marriage had become their secret rendezvous spot. My hands trembled with anger. Helen’s messages continued to flood the group. [This Anna Gu is the worst. She loves to play the innocent victim. Being her neighbor is truly bad luck!] [Good thing none of you with kids live too close to her, otherwise, if a child cries at night, she might just fabricate a heart condition and claim the child’s noise caused a relapse!] [Unlike me, I painstakingly raised my daughter for twenty years. She’s sweet and sensible, and blushes even seeing people kiss, yet she has to listen to her screaming every night upstairs!] [If she corrupts my innocent daughter, I swear I won’t live!] The word ‘innocent’ was particularly jarring. I immediately screenshot my home monitor and sent it to the group. In the image, Mark was asleep, embracing a woman. But because the image was blurry, Helen couldn’t recognize it as Clara Doyle, and started yelling at me. [Anna Gu, you are truly shameless. Why are you sending photos of you and your husband sleeping to the group chat!] [Don’t you know there might be minors in this group!] I sent a video of myself on the highway to the group, explaining, “I’m on the highway, I’ll be home in forty minutes. The monitor footage is live. How many times do I have to tell you, the woman screaming in my house is not me!” Seeing my anger, people in the group started trying to calm Helen down, saying it might really be a misunderstanding. Helen, however, remained defiant. [Just look at Anna Gu’s manipulative act. If I had really wronged her, she would have cried and called the police by now!] [I didn’t mean to be aggressive. As long as she promises not to be so loud in the future and compensates my daughter with 300,000 for emotional distress, this matter will be over.] Seeing the messages in the group, I couldn’t help but sneer. No wonder she reacted so strongly in the group today! She thought she’d caught me making a mistake and wanted to extort money from me! She demanded 100,000 during the renovation, and 200,000 when I hit her dog. She called me a pampered wife supported by my husband, but in her heart, she coveted my money. I could no longer contain my fury and sent a voice message directly to the group: “Helen, let’s not even talk about the woman upstairs not being me. Even if it were, your current actions are extortion!” Helen was not to be outdone. [I’m spreading rumors about you? My voice is hoarse from screaming, and you’re still defiant!] [I’m just asking if you’re going to pay for the emotional damages!] I replied directly: “I know you’re jealous of my money, but my money was earned through hard work. Even if I donate it, I wouldn’t give a single penny to someone like you who spreads rumors about me!” “And in this matter, I am also a victim!” [Pfft, my daughter is the victim!] [Since you won’t accept my kindness, don’t blame me for seeking justice for my daughter!] 4 After Helen finished speaking, she immediately shared a live stream link in the group. Clicking on it, I realized the person streaming was Helen herself. In the live stream, she was tearfully complaining that I screamed every day, causing her daughter to become precocious. She claimed her daughter was almost tricked into going to a nightclub to accompany men because of me. And when she tried to complain about me in the group to get justice for her daughter, she was accused of extortion. Helen cried hysterically, like a desperate, loving mother trying to protect her child. Unknowing viewers in the live stream immediately became enraged, rushing to support Helen. [Why bother talking so much to a bitch like that? Just kick her out of the complex and make her compensate you all with her apartment!] [To put it nicely, this woman might be a kept woman by her husband, but in reality, she could also be a mistress. I suggest the streamer expose her identity. If she’s really a mistress, it’ll be easier to deal with!] Helen pretended to accidentally leak my information in the live stream. In just five minutes, all my information was dug up, and my company received thousands of complaints overnight! The client with whom I had been negotiating a collaboration for a week, upon seeing the news, decided to terminate the agreement. My employees’ calls kept coming in, asking what was happening and how the company should handle public relations. “Save all evidence. Have legal prepare for a lawsuit.” After replying to my employees’ messages, I rushed to call each client back to explain, with no time to deal with the online outrage. After contacting all the clients, The car finally stopped at the entrance of the complex. My best friend said the timeline evidence for Mark’s infidelity was ready. Taking a deep breath, I looked at the dimly lit morning sky outside, and sent a message to the group. “I know everyone is enjoying the show. I’m downstairs at the complex now. If you’re awake, come with me to catch them in the act.” I opened the car door and stepped out, looking up at my apartment building. Many people were peering down. Helen, clutching her phone for the live stream, rushed down first. Pointing the phone at my face, she told her viewers: “This bitch must have sneaked out of her apartment while I wasn’t looking, deliberately creating the illusion that she wasn’t home!” “Now her place is definitely empty. She’ll open the door and claim I falsely accused her, but she doesn’t know I’ve recorded her screams!” Seeing many neighbors had gathered, I gave a cold smile. “I checked the monitor. Those animals are still inside. We won’t come up empty-handed.” “Now, I’m taking everyone upstairs to catch them in the act!”

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I was the heiress to a vast fortune. Wielding my wealth like a weapon, I’d forced three impoverished college students into my service. One fed me strawberries, one massaged my feet, and another told me stories. As for who would stay with me at night, that was decided by drawing a card. This evening, I was enjoying strawberries, a foot massage, and a captivating story, lost in a haze of pure contentment. Suddenly, lines of text materialized before my eyes. [Why isn’t this villainess gone yet?!] [Don’t rush, upstairs! Our protagonist is about to reunite with the male leads.] [Though the male leads outwardly submit to the villainess, they secretly despise her. Once the protagonist arrives, they’ll team up against her.] [Spoiler alert from a lore enthusiast: The villainess ends up penniless, disowned by her wealthy family, homeless, and driven to madness, fighting dogs for scraps.] I jolted, a strawberry catching in my throat. “Cough… stop, stop…” The three stopped obediently, their eyes downcast as they presented the familiar cards. [The humiliation the villainess inflicts by drawing cards now, the male leads will repay every single bit of it, with interest, in the future.] My body trembled, and I quickly withdrew my hand. “I… I won’t draw anymore…” 1 The three of them frowned slightly. They probably thought I was just throwing one of my usual tantrums. After all, I was incredibly demanding. I often picked apart their service. Strawberries had to be seven parts sweet and three parts tart. If even one wasn’t to my liking, Paul had to rewash the entire batch. Foot massages required precisely six parts pressure. If Ashton’s touch was too heavy or too light, he’d have to tie weights to his fingers as punishment. Stories had to be exactly what I wanted to hear. If I didn’t like the ending, Noah had to invent a new one for me. Of course, I was often dissatisfied. [I can’t wait for the male leads to exact their revenge on the villainess! The poor boys she looked down on will transform into tech tycoons, artistic geniuses, and powerful CEOs. Just thinking about it gives me chills!] [Tell us more, upstairs! I’m dying for every detail of the villainess’s brutal downfall!] [Okay, so the male leads already harbored resentment from her prolonged humiliation. Then, the villainess, out of jealousy, repeatedly tried to sabotage the protagonist. Finally, the protagonist and male leads joined forces and exposed everything the villainess had done at a press conference.] [The villainess faced social ruin, was disowned by her family as a disgrace, and the male leads orchestrated it so she ended up with massive debts. Kicked out of her home, she had to live with vagrants, eventually descending into madness.] [This ending is so satisfying! I hate those ‘demure as a daisy’ types. The protagonist and male leads should absolutely get their brutal revenge!] A chill ran through me. I sprang from the sofa. Almost scrambling on all fours, I pushed past the three of them and bolted into the house. Behind me, the cards lay scattered on the floor. It was too terrifying. Absolutely terrifying. 2 Back in my room, I rushed to the bathroom to shower. Listening to the sound of the running water, I finally started to calm down. Wrapped in my bathrobe, I emerged to find Paul standing in my room. He held a plate of fresh strawberries. I froze, my hand loosening, causing my bathrobe to slip a little from my shoulder. “I’ve re-selected the strawberries, and washed them thoroughly.” His expression was always cool and detached, his voice devoid of emotion. If his Adam’s apple hadn’t subtly bobbed just now, he would have looked exactly like a statue. [Paul, despite his humble origins, is a high-IQ genius. The villainess has no idea that Paul has already used her ‘charitable’ one million dollars in startup capital to establish his own company.] [During the day, the protagonist thinks he’s attending classes, but he’s actually at his company. However, since the company isn’t stable yet, he fears leaving the villainess would lead to persecution, which is why he’s enduring this humiliation.] [The villainess couldn’t possibly believe Paul genuinely enjoys feeding her strawberries every day, could she? He just obediently listens because her voice irritates him, and it’s a convenient way to keep her quiet.] [The villainess doesn’t know that the reason she always sleeps so soundly whenever she picks Paul is because my Paul always washes the strawberries with sleeping pills.] [The villainess happily eats them, thinking it’s a sign of Paul’s affection, completely unaware that my Paul finds even touching her repulsive.] I was stunned. I did, indeed, love sleeping next to Paul the most. Even though he never held me back. But he had a comforting, crisp scent that always made me feel incredibly at ease. Turns out… what made me feel at ease was a damn sleeping pill! [As expected of my high-IQ Paul! Even his methods of placating the villainess are so clever!] [And it’s Paul who ultimately engineers the villainess’s massive debts! My Paul, a man of action, not words!] I trembled even more violently. I’d always thought Paul was just cold-faced. But he was even more ruthless than I imagined! That heartless jerk! I gave him a million dollars in startup capital and often gave him spending money! “Ophelia?” Paul frowned slightly. I instinctively took a step back, knocking over the plate. Strawberries tumbled across the floor. Sure enough, a flicker of almost imperceptible impatience crossed Paul’s face. As if he were trying to suppress something. “Still not satisfied with this plate? “Then I’ll wash them again.” “I… I suddenly don’t feel like eating strawberries today!” I clutched my bathrobe tighter, my voice trembling. “You… you don’t need to wash them again. Get some rest!” Having said that, I didn’t dare look at his expression. I bolted out the door. 3 I fled to the living room. On the way, I checked my bank balance on my phone five times. Then I silently repeated ten times that I only had savings, no debts. Only then did my heart gradually settle. But I hadn’t expected to find Ashton in the living room. Seeing me, he smiled faintly. “Ophelia, I knew you’d come down.” He took off the weights hanging from his fingers and knelt. “I didn’t control the pressure well just now, so I punished myself. Come here, I’ll massage them again for you.” Oh, his voice was so gentle. My heartwarming little puppy, I really appreciated it. So what if Paul was cold? I didn’t only have him. Feeling a little lightheaded, I started to walk towards him. [Ashton, the most cunning artistic genius. The villainess merely secured his entry into an art competition, then exploited that favor by forcing him to paint 100 portraits of her and made his hands, meant for creating timeless art, massage her feet every day.] [What a waste of talent! My heart aches for Ashton’s beautiful, nimble hands!] [Don’t worry, everyone, Ashton will soon gain recognition from a master and become a globally renowned art star. After the villainess is kicked out, it’s Ashton who will plot her mental breakdown.] My feet stopped abruptly. [Upstairs, spill the details quickly!] [After the villainess is kicked out, it’s my Ashton who hires a bunch of vagrants to relentlessly torment her. What goes around comes around: she forced Ashton to paint so many pictures, so she’ll have to massage the feet of that many vagrants, until she’s driven mad.] I quickly pulled back my feet. I’d always thought Ashton was the gentlest one… But it turns out he’s a damn black-hearted schemer! Seeing those beautiful, slender hands reaching for my feet, I practically leaped up on instinct. “I don’t want a massage!” Ashton froze. He looked up, his beautiful eyes gazing at me with a haunting intensity. Before I could even react, he stood, those handsome, long fingers gently entwining with mine. I was terrified, but found I couldn’t break free. “Why not a massage?” He breathed into my ear, “I was also thinking of showing you my new painting, Ophelia… “This one depicts you sleeping, it’s very beautiful…” [Haha, that’s not sleeping, that’s clearly dead.] [You can tell how much Ashton hates the protagonist, he even paints her deceased.] [Doing the cruelest things with the gentlest demeanor, I adore Ashton like this.] A chill went through me entirely. I had a distinct feeling I was actually dead. “Ophelia?” Ashton’s gentle voice whispered into my ear again. “No!” Survival instinct made me blurt it out, and I violently yanked my hand away from his. Ashton froze. “No?” “Uh, how many paintings have you done for me already?” I stammered, stepping back. He thought for a moment, then looked up with a smile. “Seventy-eight.” Seventy-eight!!! I nearly fainted. Why was he painting so diligently?!! Didn’t this mean that even if I stopped now, he’d still force me to massage the feet of 78 vagrants later?! 4 I claimed I needed to sleep and quickly escaped the living room. However, as I reached the turn in the staircase on the second floor of the mansion, I saw Noah looking down at me with a somber expression. Noah was actually the most hot-headed of the bunch. If he hadn’t been genuinely broke, he wouldn’t have stooped to my service. “What’s wrong with you tonight?” He crossed his arms. “Yesterday you were still insisting on hearing about the ‘chasing wife, crematorium’ trope, and now you don’t like it anymore?” [When will our Noah’s birth parents show up?] [They’ll be here soon! Noah was discovered by the Jensen family during a basketball game. He’ll turn out to be the Jensen family’s long-lost son, inheriting their massive commercial empire, becoming the Jensen family’s crown prince overnight!] [Handsome CEO, I love it!] [The villainess originally took a liking to our Noah’s looks and physique. Because she liked the sound of his voice, she made Noah tell her stories every day, completely unaware that Noah would disgustedly gargle every time he finished telling her a story.] [Poor Noah, a 6’1” sunny basketball player, forced by the villainess to become a romance writer.] [But in the end, it was also Noah who pressured the Sterling family, threatening them with bankruptcy if they didn’t kick the villainess out of the house. It’s a fitting revenge for past grievances.] Pressure… Kicked out of the house… My legs went weak, and I nearly fell. I was just a spoiled heiress with no skills. I knew nothing but how to enjoy life. If I were kicked out, I’d have nothing. Noah, seeing my lack of response, took a step forward. “Still not satisfied with the ending of this story? The protagonist and male lead didn’t die this time, it’s a happy ending. Still not good enough? “Fine, I knew you were picky and demanding. I’ve already written a new one…” “I won’t listen!” My voice was trembling. Noah was always warm, sleeping with him was like having a human hot water bottle. Especially comfortable in winter. Not to mention his strong arms and eight-pack abs… But now, I wanted to slap myself. You and your obsession with looks! You and your obsession with voices! You and your obsession with warmth! “Won’t listen?” Noah’s eyes darkened rapidly. But I couldn’t worry about that. I quickly fled back to my bedroom. Good, good. Paul was already gone. After a moment’s thought, I locked the door, pulled a large polar bear plush from the closet, and finally lay down with it. 5 I didn’t sleep well all night. I don’t know why there were so many sleepless night owls, but the comments kept flashing across the screen. From their excited discussions, I learned that today, during the day, the poor and resilient little white flower protagonist would meet the three male leads. I would then, out of jealousy, desperately try to sabotage her. And it would be her encouragement that solidified their resolve to take revenge on me. The next day, I went downstairs with dark circles under my eyes. I immediately saw the three of them sitting at the dining table, eating. The three of them looked up at me in unison. I pretended not to notice the flicker of displeasure in their eyes. The comments were right. They hated me. Before, I had been too foolish, not even noticing such obvious resentment. “Ophelia, come sit.” Ashton smiled gently at me, pulling out the seat between himself and Noah. Before, I would have happily run over. I might even have playfully asked Paul to feed me, Ashton to massage my shoulders, and Noah to say some auspicious words or sing a song. Perhaps I would have gone even further and tossed a card. To decide who would stay with me for a nap. But today, before he even finished speaking, I decisively moved to the opposite side, far from them. I didn’t have that much nerve now. “You guys are almost done eating. I’ll just sit here, so I don’t bother you, okay?” Ashton’s smile faltered. Paul’s eyes remained flat. Noah frowned. I ate my meal with my head down. Feeling a little guilty, for some reason. “Miss, your arrangements are complete.” The butler handed me a notebook. I took it, secretly glancing at the three across from me. “Uh, today, could I ask the three of you for a small favor?” The three of them looked confused. After all, I usually barked orders at them. No one responded. I quickly added: “There’ll be payment, not free labor! One hundred thousand each!” I gave Paul an insider’s ticket to a cutting-edge technology symposium. From my research, his company wasn’t yet qualified to attend such a high-level conference. Then I gave Ashton a ticket to a lecture by the renowned artist Master Lee. This ticket had sold out a month ago, and I had paid two hundred thousand to a scalper to get it. Finally, I gave Noah a meet-and-greet ticket for a famous basketball star. I knew that was his favorite player. These were temptations they couldn’t refuse. The three of them took the tickets, an unreadable emotion flickering in their eyes. “What does this mean?” Noah was the first to ask. “The family gave these to me, telling me to go to the tech symposium to learn, and to the art lecture and basketball star meet-and-greet for culture and sports. You know how lazy I am, so could you all go in my place? Make sure to stay the whole day, please.” “What about you?” Paul suddenly asked. I froze, “Huh?” “What are you doing today?” I let out two forced laughs. “I have other plans, other plans.” “What other plans?” Ashton asked. I was speechless. “It’s just…” “Tell us,” Noah said. It was something I couldn’t tell them. I summoned my usual imperiousness, deliberately sounding fierce: “What? What I do? Do I have to report to you?!” This tactic still worked. The three of them indeed stopped talking. 6 There was, of course, a reason I couldn’t tell them. I’d spent all night thinking, and I’d come up with a wicked plan. I was going to replace them and win over the protagonist. Actually, there was a Plan B. According to the comments, they hadn’t yet become formidable. I could easily find a way to crush Paul’s company, hinder Ashton from becoming a master and winning awards, get Noah removed from the basketball team, and prevent him from reconnecting with his family. But… how should I put it? I still had a shred of humanity. Until the very end, I still wanted to part ways with them peacefully, without a full-blown war. After the three of them left, I called the butler over again and whispered: “That other matter, is it also settled?” The butler chuckled. “Don’t worry, Miss. We offered a generous sum, and in just a few hours, about 10 male students signed up. As per your requirements, we’ve selected three.” I nodded in satisfaction. “Then I’ll meet them later when we go to A University Library.” Since the comments said they hated and sought revenge on me because I forced them, wouldn’t stopping that now be enough? I’m so wealthy, and I’m not bad-looking. A three-legged frog might be hard to find, but willing men? Surely, I could find them. Even though my requirements were strict this time. They couldn’t be too handsome; presentable was fine. They couldn’t be too intelligent; average was okay. They couldn’t have any special skills; ordinary was good. They couldn’t be orphans; from a regular family was acceptable. Eliminating any possibility of the chosen ones being male leads. But still, many people signed up. I happily got into the car with the butler, heading to A University. “First, I’ll interview them, then I’ll meet Evelyn Sterling.” Evelyn Sterling was the protagonist mentioned in the comments. She was currently working part-time at A University Library. The interviews went even smoother than I expected. The three boys looked very obedient. Not to mention small matters like feeding strawberries, foot massages, or storytelling… Even for the “nighttime” matter… One of the male students, blushing, stood up and said to me: “Sister, I can do anything, no matter how ‘spicy’ or ‘mild’…” I didn’t understand. “What?” He took small, quick steps around to stand in front of me, then leaned his head on my shoulder: “It means, whatever Sister wants me to do, I’ll do…” Good, good, good. I was ecstatic. But for some reason, I suddenly shivered all over. I abruptly looked back. No one was outside the window. Why did it feel so chilling behind me? As if someone were standing there with a knife. A murderous aura. And not just one. But rising and falling. Perhaps I’d been reading too many comments these past two days. I was getting a little paranoid. “Is the… is the air conditioning too cold?” One male student obediently replied, “Sister, the heater is on inside.” Another: “Sister is afraid of the cold, so I’ll be Sister’s human hot water bottle.” Oh, oh, oh. See? I looked from one to the other. Extremely satisfied. I could hardly let them go. After telling the three to wait for my call, I was happily fantasizing about my carefree future when the butler came in. His expression was somewhat troubled. “Miss, that student, Miss Sterling, has declined your meeting request.” 7 According to the butler, Evelyn Sterling refused as soon as she heard my name. “Birds of a feather, Miss Sterling and I are not the same kind of people. There’s no need to meet.” No choice, I had to go find her. I searched all three floors of the library, my feet starting to ache faintly, before finally finding her in the ground floor lobby. She looked at me with full vigilance. “I know you’re the Sterling family’s heiress. What exactly do you want?” I spoke gently, “I know you’re in great need of money right now, and I’d really like to help you…” “So you want to buy my character with money?!” I: “…No, I want to help…” “I’ve seen too many people like you. You act superior just because you have some money, insulting people randomly, treating us poor folk like your toys. What, have you grown tired of your old toys and want new ones, so you’ve come after me?” “No, I genuinely want to help you, without charge…” “How can there be a free lunch in this world? You just want to insult me, make me grovel before you. But my spine, Evelyn Sterling, is straight. I can kneel to heaven and earth, but I will not kneel to money or capital!” “You’ve misunderstood. I don’t need you to kneel. I know you’re an excellent student but didn’t receive the Sterling Corporation scholarship last year, so I can help you apply for a special one.” “Put away your hypocritical facade. Do you think that will buy my soul?” I: “…” I was getting a little tired. I cut straight to the chase, playing the emotional card: “I just want to give you money, help your seriously ill mother find a good hospital, and save you from working odd jobs so you can spend more time with your mother.” But her eyes widened: “You actually investigated my family? You want to use my mother to control me? I’m telling you, I’ll take care of my own mother, and I’ll do it with the money I earn myself, honorably.” I: “…” She pulled out her phone. “You’ve invaded my privacy by investigating me. I’m calling the police right now. I want to see if this world is truly fair and just!” No. “Let’s talk this out calmly…” What kind of protagonist calls the police at the drop of a hat?!! I quickly tried to snatch her phone, but she resisted violently. Before I even touched her, her foot slipped, and she fell heavily to the ground. As if I had pushed her. “Ophelia.” Three cold voices suddenly came from behind me. “What are you doing?”

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