Category: English

The day I divorced my fifty-year-old CEO husband, I wore a full face of makeup and a bright, crimson red dress. A flicker of impatience crossed Ethan Vance’s elegant features. “Dressed so festively. Are you getting married today?” I ran my fingers through my newly permed curls, the image of that handsome face floating into my mind. I couldn’t help but smile: “As a matter of fact, yes.” “And you actually know the guy.” Hearing this, a cold sneer appeared on his face: “The people in my circle are all famously devoted husbands. If you’re going to make up a lie, could you at least put some thought into it?” I just smiled and shook my head. I didn’t explain. It didn’t matter anyway; that person was already on his way. … Once we got in the car, Ethan didn’t drive straight to City Hall. Instead, he headed in the completely opposite direction. Meeting my confused gaze, he said coldly: “Mia is going today too. She’s waited over twenty years, and I don’t want to make her wait any longer.” So, our marriage of convenience, this sham of a union, had actually been a front for that long. When we arrived near Mia Harper’s neighborhood, I received a text from him. While replying, I got out of the car and went to a convenience store to buy a bottle of water. When I returned, someone was already sitting in the passenger seat. “Chloe, I’m so used to sitting in the passenger seat of Ethan’s car. You don’t mind, do you?” What was there to mind? We were on our way to get a divorce today anyway. I reached out to grab my purse from the seat, and Mia covered her mouth with a gasp: “What a gorgeous bag!” “Chloe, give the bag to Mia,” Ethan commanded, his hands on the steering wheel, not even bothering to look back. I just wanted to get my bag to take off the little charm attached to it. He slammed on the brakes and whipped his head around: “I bought that bag for you. Are you seriously expecting me to pay you for it now?” I held up the cute charm I had just unclipped: “You didn’t buy this.” His face darkened, a strange look flashing through his eyes. I then tossed the bag into Mia’s lap and said: “There are plenty more brand-new bags at home. Give me your address, and I’ll send them all to you.” Seeing this, Ethan nodded in satisfaction: “Chloe, as long as you don’t cause a scene, I guarantee no one in our circle will know about our divorce.” I didn’t respond. Because the man I was going to marry didn’t want to keep our relationship a secret. My phone started vibrating frantically. I leaned against the window and answered it quietly. It was him. He said he was already boarding his flight. A smile played on my lips as I replied softly: “Okay.” Ethan caught the smile on my lips through the rearview mirror. A surge of irritation instantly flared in his chest. Just as he was about to demand who I was talking to, Mia, sitting in the passenger seat, suddenly let out a deep sigh. She stroked the bag in her lap absentmindedly. “What’s wrong?” Ethan asked gently, turning his head while waiting at a red light. Mia hurriedly covered a spot on the bag, her eyes darting away: “N-nothing…” Sensing something was off, Ethan forcefully snatched the bag from her. There was a long, deep gash across the leather. It looked fresh. And very obvious. The anger in Ethan’s heart instantly ignited. He grabbed the bag and hurled it straight at me. I was looking out the window, completely off guard, and took the full force of the blow on my arm. My hand jerked, accidentally pressing the ‘end call’ button. But I still had things I wanted to say. Ignoring the urge to argue with Ethan, I grabbed my phone to call him back. Just as I dialed the number, Ethan got out from the front seat, snatched my phone, and smashed it viciously onto the pavement. In an instant, the phone was crushed into pieces by a passing car. “Ethan Vance, you…” Before I could finish, he dragged me out of the car. Wearing high heels, I lost my balance and twisted my ankle the moment my feet hit the ground, unable to even stand up straight. Seeing my red and swollen ankle, Ethan shook off my hand in disgust. “I just asked you to give her a bag, and you actually slashed it before handing it over. Chloe, I truly never realized you were such a manipulative and scheming woman!” Convicting me without even asking a single question? I looked up at Mia in the car. She hurriedly averted her eyes, her hands nervously twisting her clothes. Ever since she appeared, I had become the most manipulative woman in Ethan’s eyes. Marrying him to help the Vance family through a crisis was seen as using a favor to blackmail him—manipulative; Working myself to the bone on projects to expand the company was seen as using his connections as a stepping stone—manipulative; Agreeing to step aside for him and Mia was seen as playing hard to get—manipulative… In the past, I would have patiently explained myself over and over again. But today, I didn’t want to defend myself anymore. “That’s right, I just didn’t want to give it to her. I just wanted to disgust her. Are you satisfied?” Fighting the excruciating pain in my ankle, I stood up straight, turned around, and walked toward the sidewalk without looking back. Ethan, I will never chase after you to explain myself again. He stood by the car, his temples throbbing: “Chloe, since you admit it, don’t blame me for leaving you here. You can walk there yourself today!” Hah, leaving me behind? Has he left me behind for Mia’s sake only a few times? When he received a message from Mia at our wedding, he left without a word of explanation in front of all the guests; At a gala, he secretly went to pick up Mia without telling me, leaving me shivering in the cold wind for two hours; On a business trip abroad, Mia made one phone call, and he left me all alone without saying a word. After all this, my heart had grown cold a long time ago. By the time I hobbled near City Hall, my foot was swollen beyond recognition. Every step I took brought out a cold sweat from the pain. I was leaning against a wall to rest when someone suddenly darted out from behind and forcefully scooped me up into his arms. “Ethan, put me down!” His jaw was tight, acting as if he hadn’t heard me, and walked straight inside. As we passed Mia, a flash of resentment crossed her eyes. As soon as we entered, a helpful bystander pointed the way: “Sir, marriage registration is over here.” Ethan’s face darkened, and he immediately dropped me: “We’re here for a divorce.” Falling heavily to the ground, the impact sent another piercing jolt of pain through my twisted ankle. The paperwork was finished, and I had the divorce certificate in hand. I went straight to a bench to sit and wait. Calculating the time, he should be arriving soon. “Chloe, aren’t you leaving? Your foot looks pretty bad. Ethan and I can give you a ride to the hospital after we get our marriage certificate!” Mia clung affectionately to Ethan’s arm, smiling at me. I took out a compact to touch up my lipstick: “No need. I’m waiting for someone to get married. He’ll take me to the hospital later.” “Oh~ What a coincidence! Ethan, let’s wait with Chloe for a bit, okay?” Mia pulled Ethan over to sit next to me: “Once we get our certificate, if the person Chloe is talking about doesn’t have a car, we can even give her a ride home.” Ethan thoughtfully took her hand and tucked it into his coat pocket to keep it warm: “You, always worrying about others.” But the sky was growing dark, and no one showed up. I reached into my pocket for my phone, only to realize it had just been crushed by a car. Full of regret, I was about to get up and leave. Mia, clutching her brand-new marriage certificate, walked over with a beaming smile: “Chloe, let’s not worry about whether this person exists or not. Listen to me, take Ethan’s car to the hospital first. We’ll take you!” I patted my pockets again. I truly didn’t have a single penny on me. The only valuable thing, my bag, had just been given away. So, I didn’t refuse her offer. As we walked out, I held onto the railing, carefully stepping down the stairs. “Chloe, let me help you.” Mia quickly caught up to me. Just as I was about to wave her off and decline. “Ah—” She let out a scream, her foot slipped, and she fell backward. Ethan caught her securely. She leaned against Ethan’s chest, her eyes welling with tears: “Chloe, I was just trying to help you. Why did you push me?” Ethan gently patted her back with a look of heartache, then turned around, grabbed my arm, and yanked me down the stairs. “Chloe, you really don’t know what’s good for you…” Seeing me cry out in pain and clutch my ankle, a flicker of reluctance crossed his eyes. Just as he opened his mouth to tell me to get in the car. Mia parted her lips and murmured: “Ethan…” He immediately helped the woman in his arms into the car. And sped off. I limped to the police station, and the police kindly gave me a ride home. My assistant got me a replacement SIM card, bought a new phone, and brought it to me at the hospital. As soon as I turned it on, I had countless missed calls. The moment I unlocked the screen, another call popped up. “Chloe! You finally answered! Did something happen?!” The person on the other end sounded like he was about to cry from anxiety. I looked at my freshly bandaged ankle, lowered my eyes, and said: “Nothing major, just twisted my ankle.” “What?! Is it serious? Are you at the hospital?” His voice was frantic; he wished he could magically appear by my side right that second. “I bought a high-speed train ticket the moment I got off the plane. I’ll be there in half an hour.” “My flight had to turn back halfway because of the weather.” “I called you the second we landed, but no one answered. I was scared to death.” Right after the call ended, Ethan, who hadn’t posted on social media in a century, actually updated his status with a photo. It was a silhouette of him and Mia holding their marriage certificate. I left a comment: [Lovers finally united. Wishing you both happiness.] When I looked again, the post had been deleted. A call from Ethan popped up at the top of my screen. I hit decline and blocked the number. Just as I stepped out of the examination room, I ran into Ethan and Mia coming out of the room next door. “Alone?” Ethan instinctively furrowed his brow. Resentment flooded Mia’s face. She stepped forward, pressing herself against Ethan, instantly changing her expression. She wrapped her arm around his waist and laughed: “Chloe, hasn’t the person you’re supposed to marry shown up yet?” “How can anyone be so unpunctual these days! Making a sick person come to the hospital all alone.” My phone alarm went off. Ignoring their questions, I hurriedly limped toward the hospital exit. They followed unhurriedly behind me. “Chloe, did you just make up this person because Ethan and I are getting married?” Hearing Mia’s words, a look of understanding dawned on Ethan’s face. He stroked Mia’s hair with absolute tenderness: “Chloe, you don’t need to put up a front and pretend you’re getting married too. After all, there aren’t many people in this world who, like Mia, are willing to wait over twenty years.” Mia clung to Ethan’s arm, acting coquettish: “Ethan~ Let’s not talk about the past. I’d do anything for you.” My phone buzzed. I pointed at my phone over my shoulder to the people behind me: “Sorry about this, my ride is here. I’ll introduce him to you guys another day.” “Chloe, look at the situation, are you still trying to lie to us?” Ethan stood a short distance away, looking as if he was waiting to see if I had actually called a car. The driver had just pulled over. Ethan pulled out a stack of cash and threw it through the car window: “Cancel this ride. You don’t need to take her.” Then he turned back to me, a smirk on his face, seemingly convinced that the person I mentioned was fabricated: “Where to? I’ll give you a ride.” Mia enthusiastically opened the back door for me: “Chloe, why don’t you just admit it!” “Even if that person was just something you made up on the spot, it’s fine. Ethan and I promise we won’t laugh at you.” I sighed, feeling a bit amused. Since these two wanted to know so badly. Then finding out a little earlier wouldn’t hurt. It just so happened that both of them knew this person. The car hit the road. Mia alternated between feeding Ethan fruit and sleeping with her head on his shoulder. They were practically glued together, just like a young, newlywed couple. Ethan glanced at me from time to time through the rearview mirror, but only saw me glued to my phone, replying to messages. A faint smile lingered on my lips. A wave of irritation suddenly washed over him. Notifications kept popping up on my phone. It wouldn’t stop buzzing. Seeing this, the frustration in Ethan’s chest grew. “What, did you get a friend to pretend to be that guy messaging you?” I replied to the last message and locked my phone: “No need for that.” He gritted his teeth and reached back, trying to snatch my phone. I slightly tilted my hand and dodged it: “Ethan, you have no right to check my phone now.” Anger flashed across his face. Finally, he turned his head away and stopped looking at me: “Fine, let’s see how long you can keep up this act.” When we arrived at the station, I naturally got out to wait for someone. Mia, eager to watch a good show, dragged Ethan out of the car to follow me. The crowd gradually dispersed, and the smile on Mia’s face grew deeper. “Chloe, it’s pretty cold today. You really don’t need to leave yourself stranded here just because you spoke out of turn.” “Let’s go home. This time, I’ll make sure Ethan takes you all the way to your door…” Mia’s voice trailed off as she saw the person approaching. Until I cupped that person’s face and gently planted a kiss on his lips. Ethan and Mia’s faces instantly drained of color. Ethan stormed over, his face livid, and yanked me away: “Chloe, how could you be with him!” Mia, clutching her chest tightly in anger, grabbed the person’s arm and demanded loudly: “How could you be with her!”

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The day I found out I miscarried Arthur’s child, my best friend Mia gasped over the phone. “Did he cheat on you?” “No. At least, I haven’t caught him.” “Then… are his parents causing trouble again?” “My in-laws live abroad. We see them once a year. It’s very polite.” “It can’t be domestic violence, can it?!” “He rarely even raises his voice.” Mia was completely baffled. Arthur Sterling. The most outstanding heir of his generation in the Sterling family, the young and successful CEO of a major construction conglomerate. Tall, refined, elegant, and emotionally stable. In our three years of marriage, he hadn’t fooled around outside, he hadn’t let me suffer any financial grievances, and he even remembered to buy birthday gifts for my parents. Everyone said, Chloe, you are so lucky. I lay in the hospital bed, staring at the stark white ceiling. The anesthesia was just wearing off, and a hollow ache emanated from my lower abdomen. It was probably late at night, three days ago. Clutching the lab results, I waited for him in the living room for four hours. When he pushed the door open, he carried the smell of alcohol, and a faint, almost imperceptible scent of gardenias. It wasn’t the perfume I used. I said, “Arthur, I’m pregnant.” His hand, pausing as he loosened his tie, stopped. He looked up at me for two seconds. Then he spoke calmly: “Chloe, now is not the time for a child.” “I’m bidding on the Bayview International Center project next month. This project is very important to me.” “Take care of it first. We’ll talk about this later.” After saying that, he walked straight to his study. He didn’t even ask how far along I was, or if I was feeling unwell. In that moment, I suddenly remembered. When we got married, he had someone design our new home. The designer asked him if they should leave space in the master suite for a nursery. He had replied in the same calm tone back then: “No need. We don’t have plans for the near future.” You see. It turns out some endings are written right at the beginning. 1 The procedure was scheduled for Friday morning. A private hospital, VIP floor, so quiet you could hear the IV fluid dripping. The nurse came in for the third time to confirm. “Ms. Miller, has your family arrived yet? The surgical consent form needs a signature.” I glanced at my phone. The screen was as clean as freshly wiped glass. Yesterday, when I told him the procedure was today, he was tying his tie, not even looking up. “What time? I’ll try my best to make it.” “Nine o’clock.” “Mm. I’ll have Secretary Chen go with you.” You see. Even his rejections are so proper. “No need.” I spoke calmly. “I can do it myself.” The nurse hesitated. “Then… you’ll sign it yourself?” “I’ll sign it.” The pen tip scratched across the paper, making a rustling sound. It turns out that when a person’s heart is completely dead, their hand doesn’t shake. When the doors to the operating room opened, I took one last look at my phone. 9:07 AM. My social media feed refreshed with a new post. Posted by Sierra. Arthur’s chief designer, his capable right-hand woman who had been with him for five years. The photo showed the office in the early hours of the morning, dawn breaking outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. The caption: “Another all-nighter fighting side-by-side with the boss. It feels so good to give it your all for a dream. P.S.: Thanks to someone’s gardenias for keeping me awake~” Location: Sterling Group Headquarters. In the corner of the photo, a hand with distinct knuckles was in the frame, wearing the Patek Philippe watch I gave him on the wrist. I suddenly remembered that hint of gardenia scent from the other night. I remembered his increasingly frequent “overtime” over the past six months. I remembered the way Sierra looked at him. The moment the anesthesia was pushed into my vein, I closed my eyes. An icy feeling spread up my arm. Like this marriage. From the very beginning, it was cold. 2 I woke up in a hospital room. A private suite, the sunlight outside the window blinding. A dull ache came in waves from my lower abdomen, empty, as if a very important piece had been dug out of my body. The door was pushed open. Arthur walked in, carrying a fruit basket. His iron-gray suit was impeccable, his tie straight, even his hair was neatly combed. He looked as if he hadn’t rushed over from outside the operating room, but had just finished an important board meeting. “You’re awake?” He placed the fruit basket on the nightstand. “How do you feel?” His voice was steady, devoid of emotion. I looked at him and suddenly really wanted to laugh. “You came.” “Mm. Just finished a meeting.” He glanced at his watch. “I can only stay for twenty minutes. I have a lunch meeting with the city officials this afternoon.” “Is that so.” I turned my head to look out the window. “Then go do your work.” Silence spread through the hospital room. He stood for a while, finally speaking. “Chloe, the Bayview International Center project is really important to me. If we win this, Sterling Group can completely open up the East Coast market—” “Arthur.” I cut him off. My voice was very light, as if afraid of startling something. “Our child is gone.” He paused. Then he said, “I know. We’ll have more in the future.” Even his comfort sounded like he was discussing business. The door was pushed open again. Sierra walked in holding a bouquet of white lilies, smiling gently and appropriately. “Mr. Sterling, you are here. I’ve prepared the materials for this afternoon’s lunch meeting.” Seeing me, she showed a perfectly measured look of concern. “Ms. Miller, are you alright? Mr. Sterling was so worried last night he didn’t sleep well, and rushed over right after the meeting today.” How considerate. She even thought of an excuse for him. Arthur took the documents from her hand, flipping through them quickly. “Have the numbers been verified?” “Yes. Also, we’ve taken care of Director Lee. He likes vintage wine; I’ve prepared a thirty-year-old Macallan.” “Good.” They stood side-by-side by the window, discussing the details of the project in low voices. The sunlight spilled over them, like a golden halo. The talented man and the beautiful woman, fighting side by side. What a matching picture. While I lay in the hospital bed, my whole body cold, having just lost a child. A child he didn’t care about at all. 3 On the day I was discharged, I handled the paperwork myself. Arthur called. “I’ll have the driver pick you up.” “No need.” “Chloe, don’t throw a tantrum.” “Arthur.” I stood at the hospital entrance, watching the bustling traffic. “I’m not throwing a tantrum.” “I just suddenly realized that for the past three years, I’ve been living in an illusion.” Silence on the other end of the line. “I thought we were husband and wife.” “But actually, I’m just an expendable decoration in your life.” “And now this decoration is broken, taking up space. You’re starting to find it troublesome, aren’t you?” “Chloe!” His voice dropped. “Do you have to speak like this?” “Then how should I speak?” I laughed. “Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to let me have an abortion? Thank you for having your secretary come to the hospital to perform ‘concern’ for you?” “Sierra is just my subordinate.” “Is that so.” I said softly. “But the way you look at her has much more warmth than the way you look at me.” I hung up the phone. I flagged down a taxi. The driver asked, “Where to, miss?” Watching the rapidly retreating street scenes outside the window, I suddenly didn’t know where I should go. That three-thousand-square-foot luxury condo, equipped with the top-tier smart home systems, a temperature and humidity-controlled wine cellar, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the river. But it had no warmth. No signs of life. No feeling of home. Finally, I said, “To Pine Lake Apartments.” That was the small apartment I bought myself before I got married. Five hundred square feet, one bedroom, one living room. In our three years of marriage, I had only been back there twice. The last time I went back was for my birthday last year. He forgot. I sat there until dawn, and he didn’t even notice I wasn’t home. 4 I lay at home for three days. Arthur didn’t call once. But Mia came every day, bringing soup she had simmered, along with a bellyful of curses. “That bastard Arthur! I saw him at the Plaza Hotel the other day, having dinner with a client, accompanied by Sierra. The way Sierra was acting, she practically wanted to glue herself to him!” “Also, do you know what Sierra has been saying in our circles lately? She says Mr. Sterling is going to marry her sooner or later, and that your current position was originally meant for her.” “Chloe, you can’t keep putting up with this!” I took small sips of the soup, not saying a word. Yeah. I had put up with it for three years. I always thought, wait until the company stabilizes, wait until this project is over, wait until he’s not so busy… Then he would see me. Then we would be like he promised when we got married. “Live a good life together.” But I forgot. People like Arthur are born to conquer. His battlefield is in the business world, at the negotiation table, in every opportunity to expand his business empire. Marriage, to him, is just a necessary step in his life plan. A KPI that needs to be completed. “Mia.” I put down the soup spoon. “Do me a favor.” “Tell me!” “Help me clear out the studio in my Pine Lake apartment. I want to start painting again.” Mia’s eyes lit up. “You’ve figured it out?!” “Mm.” I looked at the gray sky outside the window. “For the past three years, to be a good Mrs. Sterling, I practically abandoned my paintbrushes.” “Now I’ve figured it out.” “Being anyone’s wife is not as good as being myself.” 5 During the first week of picking up the paintbrush again, my hands felt incredibly rusty. In college, I was the acknowledged genius of the oil painting department at the fine arts academy. My graduation piece, “Urban Breath,” was collected by an art museum. My mentor said my brushstrokes possessed an “architectural sense of structure” and a “flowing vitality.” That was when Arthur had just taken over his family’s business and came to the academy looking for collaborating artists to create art installations for Sterling Group’s new real estate developments. We met in my mentor’s studio. He was wearing a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, looking at my portfolio. The sunlight shone through the window behind him, giving him a soft, golden halo. He looked up at me, his eyes very bright. “Ms. Miller’s paintings are very powerful.” Later, he said it was at that exact moment he decided to marry me. “Your talent, your composure, are exactly what I need.” Even his reason for proposing was so pragmatic. After we got married, he stuffed me into the Sterling Group’s branding department, giving me the empty title of “Art Consultant.” Calling it “utilizing your talent.” In reality, my job was to accompany him to art exhibitions when he needed me, explain artworks to clients, and play the role of a “Mrs. Sterling with good taste.” I brought up wanting to continue creating art. He said, “Chloe, you are Mrs. Sterling now. Your time should be spent on more valuable things.” What is valuable? Accompanying him to social engagements is valuable. Maintaining client relationships for him is valuable. Playing the loving couple when he needs it is valuable. What about my dreams? What about my paintbrushes? Not important. Just like that child. Not important. 6 On my seventh day back at Pine Lake Apartments, Arthur finally appeared. At ten o’clock at night, there was a knock on the door. Through the peephole, I saw him standing outside. His tie was loose, his hair a bit messy, and there were faint dark circles under his eyes. I opened the door. The smell of alcohol on him hit me in the face. “Why are you here?” I didn’t let him in. Arthur looked at me, his expression complex. “Chloe, how long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?” “I’m not throwing a tantrum.” “Then why haven’t you come home?” “This is my home.” He frowned. “You bought this apartment yourself; it’s small, and the location is average. It’s not comfortable to live in.” “Arthur.” I leaned against the doorframe. “Do you know why I like it here?” “Why?” “Because everything here is my own.” “The paintings on the wall I painted, the books on the shelf I picked out, even that dying pothos plant on the balcony I brought from my college dorm.” “But in that luxury condo of yours, I feel like a renter.” He was silent for a moment. “If you don’t like the interior design, we can remodel. I’ll have the designer—” “I don’t need a designer.” I cut him off. “What I need is a husband.” “Not a boss assigning me tasks.” Arthur’s face darkened. “Chloe, I’ve been very tired lately. The bidding for the Bayview International Center is at a crucial stage, and there’s a ton of stuff going on at the company. Can’t you be a little considerate?” Considerate. There’s that word again. These past three years, I’ve been far too considerate. So considerate that I lost myself in the process. “Arthur.” I looked at him, enunciating every word. “The day I lost the baby, I was on the operating table, the anesthesia had just worn off, and I was shivering from the pain.” “At that moment, I was thinking, if only you were here.” “If only you could hold my hand and tell me not to be afraid.” “But you didn’t come.” “You were working overtime with another woman, accepting the gardenias she gave you, fighting side by side with her.” His pupils contracted slightly. “Sierra is just—” “I know she’s just a subordinate.” I smiled. “But Arthur, you care about her way more than you care about me.” “At least you remember she’s allergic to pollen, you remember she takes two scoops of sugar in her coffee, you give her limited-edition design sketches for her birthday.” “And me?” “On my birthday, you were at a meeting in New York. Even the ‘Happy Birthday’ message was sent by Secretary Chen on your behalf.” Arthur opened his mouth. But ultimately, he couldn’t say anything. Because he knew that every word I said was true. “I’ve mailed you the divorce agreement.” “If you don’t sign it, I’ll file for a contested divorce.” “You wouldn’t want that either, would you?” 7 That night, Arthur stood outside the door for half an hour. Finally, he said, “Chloe, we both need to cool down.” “After the bidding is over, we’ll have a good talk.” I closed the door. Leaning against it, I slowly slid down to sit on the floor. The tears finally fell. Not from sadness. From relief. I finally said everything I had been holding in for three years. It turns out that being yourself feels this incredibly satisfying. The next day, I formally submitted my resignation to Sterling Group. Secretary Chen called, his tone sounding conflicted. “Madam, Mr. Sterling says your position was specially created, there’s no resignation procedure…” “Then terminate the contract.” I said. “I signed an employment contract with Sterling Group; I’ll pay whatever penalty the law requires.” “This… shouldn’t you speak with Mr. Sterling yourself?” “No need. Tell him that from now on, my relationship with Sterling Group is solely that of a former employee and a former employer.” After hanging up, I blocked all of Arthur’s contact information. Except for one number. His mother’s. That elegant lady recuperating in Switzerland would call every few months for a routine, business-like greeting. In the afternoon, her call came as expected. “Chloe, Arthur mentioned you two are having a little disagreement?” Her voice was gentle, but carried a condescending aloofness. “Mrs. Sterling.” For the first time, I didn’t call her “Mom.” “We’re not having a disagreement; we’re getting a divorce.” There were a few seconds of silence on the other end. “Because of the child?” “Not entirely.” “Then why? Is Arthur not treating you well?” I laughed. “Mrs. Sterling, what do you consider ‘treating someone well’?” “Is it providing an ample allowance? Is it providing excellent material conditions? Is it giving you face in public?” “If it’s those things, Arthur has done very well.” “But the ‘well’ I want is for him to see me, to hear me, to treat me like a living, breathing human being.” A sigh came from the other end of the line. “Chloe, Arthur has been like this since he was a child. His father passed away early, and he had to learn to manage the company in his teens. In his eyes, there are only goals and efficiency.” “Emotions are too foreign to him.” “I know.” I said softly. “That’s why I’m tired.” “I don’t want to use my warmth to try and warm up a stone anymore.”

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Chapter 1 After preparing for a long time, the wedding reception was canceled once again because the groom didn’t show up. My parents, carrying the gifts they had prepared in advance, bowed and apologized table by table, skillfully returning the cash gifts one by one. The relatives finally couldn’t hold it back anymore and started making sarcastic remarks: “Is your family ever going to stop? You’ve held this wedding ninety-nine times, and we still haven’t even seen what the groom looks like. Is this a real wedding?” My mom apologized profusely, promising there wouldn’t be a next time. When Arthur Vance finally rushed over, the wedding venue had already been torn down and was in shambles. “There was a fluctuation in the experimental data, so I’m late.” I had heard this sentence many, many times. Unexpectedly, this time I wasn’t hysterical. I thought he would at least say sorry, but Arthur just grabbed a handful of wedding candy with his usual expression. “Since everything is fine, I’ll head out first. Mia is still waiting for me to tutor her.” Mia Harper was his junior in the research group. And Arthur never missed a single one of her tutoring sessions. I looked back at my parents, whose usually proud spines were bent by the repeated scoldings. Exhaustion and weariness swept over me. I suddenly realized that the groom didn’t have to be him. … Arthur didn’t care about anything unrelated to physics. Sometimes he would even mistake me for someone else. I thought he was always just immersed in his own world. That he was like this with everyone. But just now, the few pieces of candy he took were all Mia’s favorites. Strawberry flavored, beautifully packaged candies. Yet I was allergic to flowers, and he never remembered. Dense, red hives quickly broke out on my arm. I looked expressionlessly at the yellow roses Arthur brought as an apology. I thought of how I had lost my temper more than once because of his inattentiveness. But he never explained. He would only furrow his brow, creating fine lines. He would silently watch me vent. And then act as if nothing had happened. “Chloe!” My mom turned around and was frightened by the large and small red patches all over my body. She and my dad quickly took me to the hospital. My consciousness grew fuzzy, and my mom’s suppressed crying lingered in my ears. “Richard, it’s all your fault for insisting on introducing Arthur to Chloe!” My dad was Arthur’s college professor. Back then, he recognized Arthur’s abilities and was determined to match us up. And I was attracted by Arthur’s aloof and detached aura, chasing after him recklessly. He had sighed: “Chloe Sterling, I don’t know how to date.” I blinked and said cheerfully: “That’s okay, I’ll teach you!” He laughed. It was only now that I understood the helplessness and annoyance in his laugh. My dad couldn’t reach Arthur. Suppressing his anger, he called the university lab. He couldn’t find him there either. “Arthur isn’t here. He seems to have something important to take care of.” “What could be more important than his fiancée being sick?” Just as my dad finished roaring this sentence, I looked up and saw Arthur supporting a pale, clean-looking girl. Arthur, who usually had a strong sense of boundaries, was pressed seamlessly against her. Usually a man of few words, he was constantly reminding her: “Mia, the doctor said you have to take the fever medicine every day, you can’t…” Before he could finish his sentence, his eyes met mine mid-air. It turns out that Mia’s slight fever was a massive deal to him. Enough to make him willingly interrupt his experiment. I remembered the year I was harassed by some street thugs and frantically called Arthur for help. His voice was extremely calm, like glass beakers clinking together. “It’s useless to call me. Chloe, what you need to do right now is call the police.” In Arthur’s eyes. There was no difference between me and any other random passerby he couldn’t name. “What’s wrong with you?” He walked over, asking me in a rare show of benevolence. While Mia still clung to his arm, looking weak and apologetic. “Sister Chloe, I’m really sorry. I troubled him so much on your wedding day.” I curled my lips into a smile: “You can trouble him all you want from now on.” “Because I’m not going to marry him.” Chapter 2 The straight line of Arthur’s mouth suddenly wavered. My parents looked at me with both surprise and joy. Because I’m as stubborn as a mule; once I set my mind on something, I never let go. Similarly, I absolutely never turn back to things I don’t want anymore. Arthur clearly hadn’t realized this. He wearily pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking I was just throwing another crazy, jealous fit. “Chloe Sterling, you’d better be able to back up what you say.” The reason he said this was because every time I made a fuss about breaking up, I would clamor to get back together within two days. He thought this time was the same. However, when he finished his tedious and complex experiments and returned home. What greeted him was silence and desolation when he opened the door. Arthur’s groggy brain suddenly jammed. After frowning in thought for a few seconds, he took out his phone and called me. “Chloe Sterling, I’m hungry.” I froze on the other end of the line. I didn’t expect this to be the first thing Arthur said after our cold war. Thinking about it carefully, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. Arthur was hailed as a genius in the physics world. No matter how complex the experiment, he could pull it off. But someone like him had zero life skills. Back then, I was young and completely obsessed with him. I willingly moved into his place and became his maid. I thought this would warm up his heart of stone. But just now, Mia’s social media, which was usually restricted from me, became visible. [Day 100 of bringing food for my senior. Today is eggplant with minced pork over rice!] The accompanying picture was a brightly colored lunch box, and I recognized at a glance that the long, slender hand in the frame belonged to Arthur. [He said it was delicious, and he ate it all up!] When I scrolled to this sentence, my eyes stung so much I could cry. Because Arthur’s most hated food was eggplant. I pressed my finger hard against the screen, zooming in desperately, only to discover the nutritious meal I had painstakingly prepared for him by waking up at 6 AM every day. It was in the trash can in the corner. I forced down the emotions churning in my heart and enunciated every word: “Arthur Vance, do you think I’m incredibly easy to bully?” Hearing my crying voice. His breathing hitched, and just as he wanted to say something else. I had already hung up and blocked him. I thought he was a smart person and would understand an adult’s refusal to communicate. It meant the end of this relationship. But Arthur was clearly missing a screw compared to normal people. In the pouring rain, he stood at my door holding a cake. “Mia said to make a girl happy, you have to give her a cake. I specifically ran to…” “Enough!” I raised my hand and knocked the cake over, the accumulated emotions finally breaking the dam. “Arthur Vance, you are not Mia’s dog! You don’t have to ask for her opinion on everything you do!” “I’ve really had enough! You and Mia should just be together. I sincerely wish you two the best!” The moment I roared and slammed the door shut. Water droplets dripped from his long eyelashes, his gaze stunned. Only then did he sluggishly realize that my anger this time was different from usual. Before he could delve into it, his advisor called, saying there was a problem with the experimental data. Arthur had no choice but to leave in a hurry. We lost contact for half a month this time. From my dad’s brief mentions, it seemed he was preparing to contend for the most important prize in physics, the Buckley Prize. However, one night, I received a call from him. “Chloe, what are you doing?” Hearing Arthur’s exhausted, hoarse voice. I paused for a moment, then told the truth: “I’m trying on my wedding dress.” Chapter 3 I don’t know if it was my illusion. But Arthur’s tone suddenly became much lighter. “What day is the wedding set for?” Although this wedding had nothing to do with him, I still told him: “In a week.” “Okay, I understand.” Right as the call was about to end, Mia’s cheerful exclamation came from his end. “Arthur, where did you put my pajamas?” Smack. The phone slipped from my hand, my brain instantly buzzing. They… slept together? At the thought of this possibility, my eyes pathetically turned red. That deliberately forgotten memory also kept flashing back. Back then, I had just gotten together with Arthur. I begged him to introduce me to his fellow students in the research group. Unlike the crowd of people who were tortured by experimental data to the point of being lifeless. Mia always had a smiling face, like a bright sun. At that time, Arthur was being pressured to drink by his seniors and juniors. This group of people teasingly asked him who he loved the most. The alcohol had flushed Arthur’s eyes under his rimless glasses. He was drunk, and instinctively answered: “It’s Mia…” The scene instantly fell dead silent. I wrung my fingers tightly, forcing a smile. Deceiving them was also deceiving myself, constantly repeating: “He means Chloe, it’s Chloe!” This farce was then casually brushed over. But I still stubbornly stuck by Arthur’s side, believing time would prove everything. But after chasing him for eight years, I was truly tired. Now that I, the stumbling block, was gone, it was normal for them to get together. So I was also prepared to forget him. Throwing away the various Lego puzzles he had given me. Actually, I didn’t like these puzzle games at all; I only cared about the process of doing them with him. But Arthur was always too busy. So I secretly hid a few puzzle pieces, hoping he would stay with me a little longer. But Arthur’s sharp eyes instantly saw through my thoughts. “You hid the pieces, didn’t you.” “Chloe, I don’t have time to waste with you. Mia is still waiting for me to test the experimental data.” Mia had always been a thorn in my heart. Once I heard her name, I became bitter and mean. “Are you like this with Mia too?” He seemed to freeze for a moment, stating a fact. “Mia wouldn’t be as boring as you.” His casual sentence destroyed all my psychological defenses. There were three days left until the wedding. My dad suddenly left a document at home and asked me to bring it to the university. To take a shortcut, I had to walk through the science building. But just as I stepped inside, Mia reached out and stopped me. She had a tight little face. “Sister Chloe, Arthur is busy doing experiments right now. You’d better not harass him anymore.” The gossiping students around us whispered: “Wow, that’s Arthur’s simp fiancée.” “What a pity, I was really shipping Mia and Arthur.” I wondered if Arthur hadn’t told them we broke up? My phone kept popping up with rapid-fire calls from my dad. I didn’t have time to explain to them, hurriedly saying: “I have an emergency.” “No!” Mia reached out and shoved me. I stumbled, thinking oh no. This was the stairwell on the third floor! A strong arm caught mine just in time. I turned my head, the lingering fear on my face turning into pleasant surprise: “Why are you here!” Chapter 4 “If I didn’t come, you would have been smashed into a pancake.” Julian Vance familiarly hooked his arm through mine. He was my childhood friend, and also the person I would spend the rest of my life with. Before I had time to speak, a gloomy voice suddenly sounded from behind. “What are you doing?” Arthur, wearing safety goggles, revealed eyes bloodshot from exhaustion. Those eyes slowly moved down, fixing dead on Julian’s hand holding my arm. More and more people were gathering around. I gave a somewhat awkward, perfunctory reply: “Nothing, an accident.” Arthur wasn’t the type to relentlessly pursue an answer. But this time, it was somewhat surprising. As he passed by, he suddenly grabbed my hand, his tone serious: “You haven’t answered my question yet.” Just as he finished speaking, a few sobs suddenly sounded beside us. No one blamed Mia, yet she started crying on her own. Arthur’s expression changed. Without hesitation, he let go of my hand and walked quickly to her side. “Who bullied you?” Mia looked up at me silently. She didn’t speak, just kept crying. Arthur followed her gaze and frowned in displeasure. “Why are you opposing Mia again?” I was clearly the one who got hurt, but Arthur didn’t even give me a chance to speak. Or maybe, someone who valued logic so much simply didn’t care about the origin of the matter. “Can you stop making a scene…” He blamed everything on me. “I told you not to drag other people into our business.” “I’m going abroad for a competition tomorrow, but I will definitely rush back for the wedding. Just put your heart at ease.” Julian clicked his tongue softly, about to punch him. I stopped him, remaining extremely calm from beginning to end. “First, I haven’t touched Mia from beginning to end. Her crying has nothing to do with me.” “Second, the groom isn’t you. You don’t need to rush back.” “Fine, fine, it’s not me.” But Arthur didn’t seem to believe me. He pulled Mia through the crowd and left. That day, Mia’s social media updated. [He said his feelings for her are only responsibility, not love. Only he and I are on the same path.] The accompanying picture was a grand and brilliant fireworks display on a mountaintop. I had said more than once that I wanted to see fireworks. But Arthur always used the excuse of being busy to brush me off. It turns out that someone who cares about you can always make time for you, no matter how busy they are. Although Arthur said he would be back in two days, he still delayed his return by a week because Mia suddenly had a stomachache. His colleagues couldn’t help but sweat for him. “Arthur, what about your wedding?” “Chloe probably won’t forgive you easily this time.” Arthur pushed his glasses up indifferently. “It’s fine, she’s easy to coax.” However, when he showed up at our door with two bags of gifts. My parents looked at him coldly. He asked: “Where’s Chloe?” My mom finally got the chance to vent her anger, and said with a beaming smile: “Chloe went on her honeymoon.”

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Ethan’s little canary had run away again. This time, he forced a high-speed train to make an emergency stop just for her. That night, he hurried home and saw the divorce papers in my hand. He let out a muffled laugh. “The little girl was being disobedient. It took a lot of effort to catch her and bring her back. Honey, you understand, right?” I still handed him the pen. He sneered: “You can’t be serious. You really want a divorce?” “You signed a prenuptial agreement. If we divorce, you won’t get a single cent!” I nodded: “I want a divorce.” Ethan’s smile faded. “You’re not going to treat your mom’s illness anymore? You’re just going to watch her die?” He threw out the trump card that had never failed him before. I calmly shook my head. “I’m not treating it anymore.” Ethan’s face completely darkened. He didn’t know yet. My critically ill mother had been lying on that very high-speed train. The hours of delay caused her to miss the critical window for her treatment. From now on. This place could never trap me again. 1 Ethan was very arrogant. He was certain I couldn’t leave my mother. After all, she was severely ill, and the medical bills were incredibly expensive. And my pockets were completely empty. As long as he had a hold on my mother, it was like he held my life in his hands. So no matter how far he went, even having an affair with my mother’s former student, I never dared to mention divorce. But this time, not only did I bring it up, but my attitude was also incredibly calm. So even he was taken aback. We remained at an impasse for a few seconds. Ethan was the first to break the silence. He chuckled lightly and patted my head: “Alright, don’t make yourself sick with anger.” “Are you still mad that Chloe ran to the hospital last time and disturbed Mom’s rest? I promise there won’t be a next time, okay?” “Besides, didn’t you get your revenge in the end? The poor girl was terrified of you.” The “revenge” he mentioned… Referred to the time Chloe, just to provoke me, barged into my mother’s hospital room and showed her a bunch of intimate videos of her and Ethan. My mother couldn’t catch her breath and almost died right there. I was furious to the extreme. I brought people to block her at her workplace, beat her until she was crying and begging for mercy on her knees, and even got her fired. That was the second time I had completely lost my mind. “Don’t touch me! You’re filthy!” I scoffed, slapping Ethan’s hand away: “Ethan, your promises are just like you—worthless!” Ethan pulled his hand back in pain, his eyes suddenly turning sharp. Obviously, being repeatedly rebuffed by me today had ignited a fire in him. Right at that moment, his phone rang. He glanced at me and answered it. It was Chloe’s aggrieved voice. “Ethan, I wanted to go apologize to Mrs. Davis, but the nurses said she was transferred…” “But all the specialists you hired are at this hospital! Does Chloe hate us so much that she’d risk Mrs. Davis’s health just to spite us? And Mrs. Davis, too, how could she let her daughter act so recklessly!” Ethan gently comforted her for a while. When he put away his phone and looked at me again, he had resumed his usual careless demeanor. “Olivia, you colluded with Mom just to get back at me? Tsk, Mom really is getting old and senile from her illness.” He lazily held a cigarette in his mouth: “Are you mother and daughter so sure I wouldn’t dare pull the medical team?” Countless times in the past. This was how Ethan forced me to compromise. Using my mother as a bargaining chip, forcing me to obey, even making me bow my head to the mistress he was keeping. It was a tactic that never failed him. But now. Looking at his posture, thinking he was in control of everything. I suddenly wanted to laugh. And as I laughed, my eyes uncontrollably turned red. I violently grabbed an ashtray and hurled it at him as hard as I could. “Pull them! Pull your medical team right now! My mom and I don’t need your charity!” Blood seeped from Ethan’s forehead. The veins on his forehead bulged. After a long silence, he stood up, walked toward the door, and said indifferently: “Olivia, you might not have a conscience, but I can’t be without one.” “After all, a teacher’s grace is as heavy as a mountain. I can’t be as reckless and willful as you and delay the teacher’s treatment.” What answered him… Was another vase I hurled fiercely at his back. 2 The door slammed shut heavily. I collapsed onto the sofa, drained of all strength. My eyes fell on the shattered pieces covering the floor. Remembering Ethan’s phrase, “A teacher’s grace is as heavy as a mountain,” I let out a mocking laugh. Exactly how shameless do you have to be… To say such weighty words so lightly, and so self-righteously? And exactly how much of a failure was I… To have let my life turn out like this? Ethan was, indeed, once my mother’s student. Back then, he wasn’t the heir to the Sterling family; he was just a kid who had nothing. Raised by a single, violent, gambling-addict father, he had a gloomy personality, terrible grades, and was a problem student that no teacher wanted to deal with. Later, my mother noticed the bruises on him. As his homeroom teacher, she did home visits time and time again, but they always ended in vain. Pitying him because he was skin and bones, my mother frequently invited him to our house for dinner. That year, we were in high school. Two miserable kids from single-parent homes ended up crossing paths. Those years, my mother, a senior teacher, personally tutored Ethan, helping him transform from a despised underachiever into a top student, eventually getting into a prestigious university. This led to Ethan later following his biological mother back to the Sterling family, and with his knowledge and the halo of a top university… He managed to earn a place and recognition within the Sterling family. Later, he changed completely. I asked my mother if she regretted it. She only shook her head: “At least it gave a child a different life.” But as she shook her head, tears fell: “My only regret is letting you marry him!” When she was critically ill, she gripped me tightly: “If I don’t make it, you should head to New York. Don’t keep holding on for my sake.” “Do whatever you want to do. My Livvy shouldn’t be trapped here.” Only then did I realize that my mother had known everything all along. I forcefully wiped my face and looked at the message popping up on my phone. [Olivia, that cruel woman who always stopped us father and daughter from seeing each other is finally gone. No one can stop you now!] [Your little brother is still young and can’t handle things. You’re my only daughter. If you’re willing to come home, everything I have in the future, including the company, will be yours!] Even though we hadn’t been in contact for years, the selfishness and coldness in the bones of my biological father hadn’t changed a bit. Even hearing that the wife who had shared his hardships in their youth had passed away, he didn’t show a hint of sadness. He even had to kick her while she was down. I lowered my eyes, staring quietly at the words on the screen. I only felt it was ridiculous. All mine? That brother of mine was the precious son this man had longed for, the son he didn’t hesitate to abandon his wife and daughter for. Would he really be willing to let me, his daughter, take half of the family fortune? I’d be the biggest joke if I believed his nonsense. But since leaving was a foregone conclusion, there was no reason not to use this stepping stone delivered right to my door. I twitched my lips and replied: [Okay, I’ll go back.] 3 As if trying to teach me a lesson… Ethan never came home again. I didn’t care. I handled my mother’s funeral alone. My mother was an only child. My grandparents had passed away long ago, and we had no other relatives. Everything was kept simple. After everything was done, I went home to pack my bags. I didn’t expect that right after I stepped through the door, the keypad lock chimed again. The moment I locked eyes with Chloe. I was still a little incredulous. “How did you get in here?” She even had the passcode to my house? Since when? Did Ethan give it to her? Or, during those days and nights when I was running to the hospital taking care of my mom, had he already moved this woman in? Sleeping in our bed? Thinking of those possible scenes… I felt a moment of nausea. “Oh, Mrs. Sterling is home?” Chloe smirked, her red lips curling. She walked in with practiced ease, acting as if she were the lady of the house: “Mr. Sterling left a jacket behind, I’m just here to grab it. I’m used to just walking right in, I forgot you might be home. You don’t mind, do you?” Before I could answer, she seemed to remember something and let out an “Oh”: “I almost forgot. You’re a full-time housewife, with no work to keep you busy. Aside from holing up at home, you really don’t have anywhere else to go.” After she finished speaking, she turned and strutted into the bedroom in her stilettos. Soon, she came out carrying Ethan’s clothes. Seeing that I was calmly watering the plants, completely ignoring her behavior, it was like a punch landing on cotton. Her face instantly darkened: “Some people spend all day guarding a few pathetic plants, unable to hold onto their man’s heart, not even having a decent career. What a pathetic way to live! Wouldn’t you agree, sister?” I put down the watering can, looked at her, and chuckled. “Career? You mean being a sugar baby whose only job is to warm someone’s bed?” I clapped my hands loudly: “Well, I guess it takes skill to lick a sugar daddy until he’s comfortable enough to hand you a job, right?” Back when I got Chloe fired from her job… Ethan turned around and hired her as his secretary, which was undoubtedly a harsh slap in the face to me. Chloe’s face instantly flushed bright red. She pointed at me, her voice shrill: “It’s still better than being a piece of trash like you! Even with a degree from a top university, you’re still blacklisted by the entire industry. Olivia, tell me, who in this entire city would dare to hire you?” My face went pale. What Chloe said was the truth. The day I found out Ethan was cheating, I had brought up divorce. The very next day, I lost my job. To pay for my mother’s medical bills, I also thought about starting my own business. But the reality was, any project I was involved in would eventually fall through, or even inexplicably blow up, leaving me with piles of debt. Over time, no one in the entire industry dared to hire me, let alone anything else. Until that day, when I broke down again because I couldn’t afford my mother’s medical bills, Ethan looked at me and smiled. He said: “Olivia, this is your punishment for bringing up divorce. Be a good Mrs. Sterling, and what could you possibly lack?” From that day on. I never dared to think about it again. It was also from then on. That I realized how cold-blooded this man truly was. He could use his power to severely punish the thugs who used to bully me. And he could use the same methods, without breaking a sweat, to crush an ordinary person like me into the mud. 4 Probably because she saw me lose my composure. Chloe felt she had won a round and said smugly: “Did I hit a nerve? I’m just telling the truth.” She flipped her hair and leaned in close to me: “Olivia, you must be so mad, aren’t you? Mad that a country bumpkin you’ve always looked down upon crawled into your husband’s bed!” She said hatefully: “You and your mother looked down on me, thinking I should rely on your charity and live at your mercy, humiliating me. So I stole your man! I stole her son-in-law!” My eyes turned icy, and I said coldly: “My mother genuinely helped you. But you? Your mind is twisted, and you actually use such absurd lies as an excuse for your own shamelessness!” Chloe used to be an impoverished student in my mother’s class. She lived with relatives in the city and always wore a torn coat. My mother was always soft-hearted, so she frequently bought her clothes and shoes, and gave her my lightly used clothes. I never imagined that this kindness would be seen as humiliation in her eyes. “What kindness? Your mother just used helping me as an excuse to show off that she had a daughter who was better than me in every way!” “But so what? In the end, your man was still seduced away by me!” Chloe smiled, her eyes full of malicious delight: “You don’t even know. That day when your teacher fell asleep, Ethan and I were right by her bed… The look on her face when she woke up was absolutely fascinating.” “It’s a pity, though. We couldn’t piss that old hag to death.” My brain buzzed. Blood rushed to my head. I turned around and, amidst Chloe’s screams, viciously grabbed her by the hair. Bang. Her head smashed heavily against the wall. “Ah! You dare hit me!” Wearing a short skirt, Chloe was no match for me at all. Pinned down by me, she could only scream and curse: “I’m going to make Ethan cut off your mother’s medical funds and make that old hag croak early!” My eyes were bloodshot. I held her down and smashed her head against the wall, over and over again. “If you don’t know how to speak like a human, I’ll teach you!” At this moment, I didn’t care about anything. I just wanted to shut her up and make her pay! Until a massive force violently threw me away, accompanied by a man’s disbelieving, furious roar: “Olivia! What the hell are you doing?!”

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The night before my father’s final appeal, Elias Vance didn’t show up to deliver the key evidence as agreed. Instead, he sent someone to deliver a sexy, lace prisoner costume. He was leaning back on his sofa, casually swirling a glass of red wine when I confronted him over video call. “Wear it. Beg me,” he drawled. “Maybe if I’m in a good mood, I can get your dad’s sentence reduced by a few years.” I knew he was humiliating me. He was doing this because his childhood sweetheart had sobbed in court, claiming my father had sexually harassed her. He believed her. He wanted to get revenge for his precious first love. When Elias crushed the USB drive containing the security footage that could have proven my father’s innocence beneath his heel, I just quietly picked up the fragments. A flicker of astonishment crossed his eyes, followed by a light chuckle. “That’s right. Learn to be obedient, and your father might actually have a chance to survive.” I forced the corners of my mouth into a stiff, mocking smile. “No need.” What he didn’t know was that during those hours he was busy administering ‘justice’ for his childhood sweetheart… My father, unable to bear the humiliation, had already bitten off his own tongue and committed suicide in the detention center. The dead do not need settlements. Chapter 1 “Harper, don’t be stupid.” “Submitting a video that is so obviously forged will only get you thrown in prison too.” “I’m trying to protect you. I’ve already smoothed things over with Sophia.” “As long as your father confesses, I can pull strings to get him probation.” I didn’t fight him for the drive. I just bent down and scooped the crushed plastic fragments into my palm. The jagged edges cut deep into my skin, blood beading up, but I just stared blankly at the floor. Elias pulled a document from his briefcase and tossed it onto the coffee table. The bold words Application for Psychiatric Evaluation glared back at me. “Sign it. This is the best solution right now.” “I’ll convince the judge that your father has severe dementia, that the harassment was just a pathological response to his illness.” “Once the evaluation is out, Sophia will issue a letter of forgiveness, and this whole thing will blow over.” I dumped the sharp debris into the trash bin and pushed the application form back across the table. “No need, Elias. The dead don’t need psychiatric evaluations.” Elias frowned, his patience wearing thin. “Why are you still throwing a tantrum at a time like this?” “Do you know how many favors I called in for this evaluation?” “With your father’s stubborn temper… if I hadn’t been managing things on the inside, they would have broken his legs by now.” I looked at the expensive pen on the table. He once told me it represented justice. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out. On the screen was a notification from the county jail. [Ms. Stone, the autopsy report for the deceased, Robert Stone, is complete. Please come immediately to sign the confirmation to waive further autopsy.] Elias’s phone rang at the exact same time. He glanced at the screen, and his harsh expression instantly softened. He picked up the call, and a woman’s soft sobbing echoed through the receiver. “Sophia, don’t be scared. I’m here.” “I’ve already destroyed that so-called ‘evidence’ video. No one can throw mud at you anymore.” “Okay, I won’t hang up. I’m coming over right now to be with you. Don’t do anything stupid.” He hung up, grabbed his jacket, and walked toward the door. “Don’t leave tonight,” I said, my voice hoarse. Elias stopped in his tracks. The look he gave me over his shoulder was full of raw disgust. “Harper, do you even have a soul?” “Sophia’s depression has relapsed because your father harassed her. She almost cut her wrists just now.” “When you were screaming at her outside the courtroom, calling her shameless, why didn’t you think about where that would lead?” “Her psychological defenses have completely collapsed. If anything happens to her, your father deserves the death penalty.” He adjusted his tie, his voice cold and commanding. “Stay home and reflect on yourself tonight.” “Before the appeal hearing tomorrow morning, I want to see that signed confession.” The front door slammed shut with a deafening thud. I looked around the empty room, slowly sank to the floor, and buried my face in my knees. Elias, there’s no need to wait for tomorrow. The man who needed to confess has already closed his eyes forever. Chapter 2 Outside the window, a torrential storm was raging. Elias had taken the only car. I stood in the freezing rain for twenty minutes. The rideshare app showed a queue of over a hundred people. Rain poured down my collar, making me shiver uncontrollably. I scanned a rental city bike and began pedaling toward the detention center on the outskirts of town. Mud and rainwater splashed across my entire body. Halfway there, a speeding truck sent a tidal wave of dirty water over me. I crashed, tumbling into the flooded gutter, bike and all. My knee slammed against the asphalt. Blood seeped through my jeans and down into my sock. I crawled back up, righted the bike, and kept riding. At 2 AM, I arrived at the detention center morgue. The medical examiner on duty pulled back the white sheet, revealing my father’s face. I covered my mouth, my legs giving way as I sank to my knees on the cold floor. My father’s mouth was half-open. His tongue was severed. His prisoner uniform was soaked in dried blood. The examiner handed me a file and a pen. “The deceased committed suicide by biting off his tongue. He died of shock due to excessive blood loss. If you confirm there are no issues, sign here and you can claim the body.” My hand trembled violently as I signed my name. A guard handed me an evidence bag. It contained his cracked reading glasses, a broken watch that had stopped ticking, and a confession letter soaked in his blood. I knew that confession was his final plea of innocence, written with his life. My phone vibrated. It was a call from Elias. I answered, and the audio was filled with Sophia’s crying and Elias’s furious interrogation. “Harper, log onto your social media account immediately and make a public statement.” “Admit the facts of your father’s sexual harassment and apologize publicly to Sophia. Now. Right now!” I held my father’s cold hand and said calmly: “I’m outside. It’s not convenient right now.” “What could possibly be ‘inconvenient’? Don’t think running away will let you escape responsibility!” “Sophia’s relatives are already blocking the law firm door. This is blowing up, and it won’t be good for anyone.” “Sophia’s reputation is ruined because of this. How is she supposed to live? Can you please just show a shred of decency?” I looked into my father’s lifeless eyes. “Then what do you want?” “If you don’t want your father to be beaten to death in prison, if you don’t want the final appeal to be a prison sentence without parole, do as I say.” “If you don’t make the statement, I will file a plea of temporary insanity at the appeal. I’ll prove your father is a severe mental patient and have him locked up in a closed asylum.” “Okay. I’ll post it.” I looked at my father’s corpse, my expression completely blank. After hanging up, I hugged his final belongings and walked out of the morgue. The rain was still falling. When I got home at dawn, the living room lights were on. Sophia was sitting on the sofa, wearing Elias’s oversized white dress shirt. Elias was holding a glass of water, gently feeding her medicine. As I walked in, Elias frowned and pulled Sophia protectively behind him. “You smell like death. Stay away from Sophia. Don’t bring your bad luck near her.” Chapter 3 Elias’s mother was sitting in the main hall, her fingers working a rosary. When she saw me come in, she slammed a newspaper directly into my face. “Look at the ‘good work’ your father did! The daughter of an old lecher is, unsurprisingly, a disrespectful piece of trash!” The edge of the paper sliced across my cheek, leaving a stinging red line. Printed on the front page was my father’s photo and a glaring headline: UNIVERSITY PROFESSOR’S GRACELESS FALL: ACCUSED OF HARASSING OLD FRIEND’S DAUGHTER. WHEN WILL THE BEAST FACE JUSTICE? Elias handed me a tablet. “Read off of this. Record a video and post it.” “I’ve already calmed Sophia’s family down. As long as you apologize, they won’t pursue criminal charges.” “This is the best outcome for your father; it saves him from suffering in that place.” I didn’t take the tablet. I just looked at Sophia. Sophia shrieked and burrowed into Elias’s embrace, trembling like a leaf. “Elias… I’m so scared… I really didn’t seduce Uncle Stone. I was just taking him some fruit.” “It was him, he suddenly grabbed my hand… I shouldn’t have worn a skirt. It’s all my fault.” Elias stroked her back, then turned a cold glare on me. “Hurry up. Are you really going to force Sophia to her breaking point before you’re satisfied?” He stepped forward, grabbed my wrist, and tried to force my thumb onto the tablet screen to unlock it. I fought back, struggling wildly, and Elias shoved me away. I stumbled back and slammed against the antique curio cabinet. The cello case resting on the top shelf tumbled down. That was the cello my father had bought me as a dowry, paid for by selling our old family home. The case snapped open, and the cello crashed onto the hardwood floor. The neck snapped. The wooden body cracked open. The strings burst with a harsh twang. Elias’s mother let out a cold snort. “This is God’s will. Instruments bought with dirty money bring bad luck. Good riddance that it’s broken.” Elias looked at the shattered cello on the floor and frowned slightly. “It’s just a cello. Don’t use this pathetic acting to get sympathy.” “As long as you apologize obediently, I’ll buy you ten new ones.” “Mom is right, this marriage is untenable. Once this lawsuit is wrapped up, let’s just get divorced and be done with it.” I hugged the broken cello as I slowly stood up. I nodded. “Okay.” “Divorce.” Elias froze, then his expression shifted to pure rage. He leaned down, his face pressing close to mine, his eyes full of threats. “You want a divorce? Fine. Make the statement first.” “Otherwise, without my help, your father will be beaten to death in jail.” “You know the rules in there—the inmates have plenty of special ‘methods’ for rapists and harassers.” I looked into Elias Vance’s face. “Do whatever you want.” I hugged my broken cello, turned, and walked upstairs. Behind me, I could hear Elias shouting and Sophia’s soft, soothing voice. I went into my room and locked the door. I took out some wood glue, trying to repair the cello. The glue covered my hands, making a sticky mess, but the wooden shards wouldn’t fit back together. A splinter pierced my finger, and a drop of bright red blood fell onto the cracked wood. My phone lit up. It was a message from the prison guard. [Only an immediate family member with a closed police statement issued by the police department can reclaim the ashes.] Without a closed statement, my father could not rest in peace. I put down the glue and began to laugh. A horrific, hollow laugh. Elias, you win. Chapter 4 I sprinted down the stairs. Elias was standing in the entryway, adjusting his cuffs. Sophia was sitting in a wheelchair, looking pale and fragile. Elias cast a sideways glance at me. “Have you come to your senses?” “If you have, come with me. The press conference is starting soon.” I took a deep breath, my fingernails digging so hard into my palms they almost drew blood. “Give me the closing police statement.” “I want that statement. As long as you give it to me, I’ll do anything.” Elias let out a contemptuous laugh. “As long as you cooperate obediently, never mind a closing statement—I can even get your father medical parole.” “Let’s go. Don’t keep the reporters waiting.” At the press conference, camera flashes strobed endlessly, and all lenses were focused on the stage. Sophia sat in her wheelchair, weeping softly into a tissue. The reporters below began to fire sharp, accusatory questions. “Ms. Stone, as the daughter of a rapist, do you feel any shame?” “We heard your father utilized his position to harass female students for years. Were you aware of this?” “Ms. Vance is the victim, yet your family tried to throw mud at her. Is this the behavior of a highly educated family?” Elias took the microphone and looked at me, his eyes commanding. “This is your last chance for atonement, Harper.” He pulled the script from his briefcase and tossed it at my feet. “As long as you read this, and kneel publicly to apologize, Sophia’s family will sign the letter of forgiveness.” “Once the case is closed, I will give you the closing statement, and your father can come home.” I stared at the paper. The script was full of phrases slandering my father. Sophia pulled on Elias’s sleeve, her voice echoing through the microphone to the entire hall. “Elias, as long as Harper kneels and apologizes, I won’t pursue this further. After all, she is Uncle Stone’s only daughter.” Elias nodded approvingly, and the bodyguards nearby took a step toward me, forcing me forward. In front of the blinding cameras, I slowly sank to my knees. My knees slammed onto the hardwood floor, and the noisy hall instantly fell dead silent. I picked up the script, faced the cameras, and spoke, enunciating every word clearly. “I am Robert Stone’s daughter.” “I admit, my father is guilty…” Elias let out a sigh of relief, a triumphant smile curving the corners of his mouth. I raised my head, staring directly into the lenses, tears sliding down my cheeks. “His greatest guilt was giving birth to me, and ever meeting all of you.” Chapter 5 The blinding flashes at the press conference finally died down. I pressed my hands against the floor, attempting to stand. My knees had been kneeling on the hard floor for too long and had completely lost all feeling. Not a single person stepped forward to help me. The surrounding reporters were looking down, reviewing the footage they had just shot. Sophia was still sitting there, weeping softly, soaking up Elias’s comforting embrace. I gritted my teeth, hands pushing against my knees, and little by little, pulled myself up from the ground. Elias, probably thinking my appearance was too disgraceful, walked over with a frown. In his hand, he pinched two thin sheets of paper. One was the Closing Police Statement, stamped with a bright red official seal. The other was an Application for Bail Pending Trial, the signature line blank. He held the two papers out in front of me. “Harper, you can’t blame me for being ruthless.” “If I hadn’t done this, Sophia’s family would never have let this go.” “Your father would have had to spend the rest of his life in prison with this stain.” “With this closing statement, plus this bail application…” “As long as you go to the hospital and get a dementia certificate, you can bring him home next week to celebrate the holidays.” He spoke so lightly. As if the person who had just forced me to kneel, who had forced me to nail my father to a pillar of shame, wasn’t him. I raised my hand, but I only took the Closing Police Statement. As for the Application for Bail Pending Trial that he had gone to so much trouble to obtain, I didn’t even cast a glance at it. Riiiiip— The sound of paper tearing was exceptionally clear in the quiet backstage area. With a blank expression, I tore the application form in half, then stacked the halves and tore them again, into tiny shreds. With a toss of my hand, the paper fragments fluttered into the nearby trash bin like snow. Elias’s face turned livid, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Harper Stone! What are you going crazy for now?” “This is a special authorization I had to beg the Director for days to get!” “You tore it up. Do you actually want your father to die in there?” I brushed the paper dust off my hands, carefully folded that precious closing statement, and put it into my inner pocket. I looked up at him, my eyes completely hollow. “No need, Counselor Vance.” “Since the case is closed, you and I are officially even.” Having said that, I turned on my heel and walked away. Seeing this, Sophia hurriedly pushed her wheelchair over, her face wearing that nauseating look of cowardice and fake concern. “Harper, please don’t be angry with Elias.” “He’s doing this for Uncle Stone’s own good.” She reached out, wanting to grab the hem of my jacket. I stepped sideways, avoiding her completely. I didn’t even brush against a single thread of her clothing. “Ah!” Sophia let out a dramatic cry of surprise, and she tumbled out of the wheelchair as it tipped over onto the floor. She covered her ankle, tears instantly flooding out, looking at me with wide, terrified eyes. “Harper, I know you hate me, but I really just wanted to help.” Elias shoved me aside and rushed over to gather Sophia in his arms. “Harper Stone! That is enough!” “I already gave you the statement, and you’ve already apologized!” “Why did you still have to lay hands on Sophia?!” “The way you act right now is truly repulsive!” I was pushed back a few steps, my lower back slamming hard into a metal door handle. A piercing pain shot through my spine. But I simply straightened my body, lacking even the desire to explain. “Repulsive?” I twitched the corners of my mouth, my smile stiff and cold. “Once you never have to see me again, you won’t have to be repulsed anymore.” “And, Elias Vance, hear this clearly: even if you kneel before me in the future and beg…” “I will never give you a single glance ever again.” Elias let out a cold scoff, holding Sophia as he stood up, his eyes full of absolute contempt. “Beg you? Harper, are you dreaming?” “I, Elias Vance, will only bow my head for justice in this life.” “I will never lower my head to a bottomless shrew like you!” “Get the hell home! Tell the housekeeper to make a good meal tonight and take it to your father.” “Stop embarrassing me out here!” I didn’t say another word, turning and walking out of the press hall. The sunlight outside was blinding, but hitting my skin, it offered absolutely no warmth. I hailed a taxi and went straight to the county jail. My hand gripped that closing statement tightly in my pocket. Only this piece of paper could bring my dad home.

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After serving my sick mother-in-law in the hospital for half a year, I finally returned home. Before I could even warm the sofa, my husband suddenly opened the door and walked in with another woman. The woman cradled a clearly pregnant belly and shyly lowered her head. “This is Mia. I… made a mistake five months ago, and now she’s pregnant. I’m worried about her living alone outside, so I have no choice but to entrust her to your care.” “It’ll be a bit tough on you for this period, just half a year. Once the baby is born, I’ll send her away.” I frowned: “You want me to serve your mistress through her pregnancy and postpartum? Did your brain get slammed in a door?” Mark exploded on the spot, smashing a glass. “I only brought Mia home because I thought you were kind-hearted. Don’t be ungrateful!” “If you don’t agree, we get a divorce right now. I have plenty of ways to make sure you don’t get a single dime!” My mother-in-law, recently discharged from the hospital, glared at me coldly: “A hen that can’t lay eggs herself, and won’t let anyone else lay them either. Is my Miller family going to end with you?” “My son gives you face, and you are Mrs. Miller. If he doesn’t give you face, you’re just a used, worn-out rag! What right do you have to throw an attitude at my son!” I looked at my self-righteous husband, then at my disdainful mother-in-law, and smiled. It’s not that I wouldn’t agree to take care of the mistress. It’s just that I secretly sterilized my husband a long time ago. Whose seed is growing in Mia’s belly? 1 I stood up from the sofa, my fingertips trembling slightly from anger. “So, for the half-year I was running around the hospital taking care of your mother for you, you were busy taking care of another woman outside, and even had a child with her? Not only did she get pregnant, but now you want me to take care of her? Is that what you’re saying?” Before Mark could speak, my mother-in-law chimed in anxiously. “What kind of attitude is that? Can’t you hear an elder speaking to you? Do you have any manners?” “You are the daughter-in-law; taking care of me is your duty! My son hasn’t left you short of food or clothes, who are you pulling this face for?” I turned to look at my mother-in-law, a mocking arc curving at the corner of my mouth. “Mom, in your heart, am I really the Miller family’s daughter-in-law?” Before I finished speaking, Mark immediately agreed: “Mom is right.” “Chloe, don’t forget, the house you live in now, the car you drive, which of them didn’t I give you? Without me, you’re nothing!” “Married for five years and your belly hasn’t shown any movement. It’s good enough our Miller family hasn’t blamed you.” My mother-in-law sneered: “Now Mia is carrying Mark’s seed, this is the hope of the Miller family. You must take good care of her!” Mark chimed in to support her: “Exactly.” “You can’t give birth yourself, so you want to stop others from doing it? Chloe, can you not be so vicious?” Watching this mother and son sing the same tune, I only felt it was absurd and hilarious. Five years of marriage. I accompanied Mark from setting up a street stall to taking his company public. During the early days of his startup, when he stayed up late guarding the shop, I brought him late-night snacks. When his capital turnover was tight, I mortgaged the apartment my parents gave me for the wedding. His mother was hospitalized three times, and I served her, handling her bedpans and urinals. Even half a year ago, when she was hospitalized for a stroke, I guarded her side day and night for six months. And now, I’ve become a used rag that is nothing. Just because I can’t have a child, I am the sinner of their entire family! “I didn’t say I disagreed.” I interrupted them, my tone as calm as stagnant water. Both Mark and my mother-in-law were stunned, clearly not expecting me to agree. “Glad you know what’s good for you.” My mother-in-law curled her lip: “Hurry up and tidy up a south-facing bedroom for Mia; pregnant women need sunlight.” “The fridge in the kitchen is empty. Go buy groceries now; Mia is hungry.” Mark ordered immediately, as if I were really the family’s nanny. I didn’t speak, turning and walking into the guest room. I watched as they crowded around Mia, walking into the master bedroom. That was the room Mark and I had shared for five years. Mia sat on the bed I had slept in for five years and said timidly to Mark: “Mark, won’t this be too much trouble for Sister Chloe?” “What trouble? She’s supposed to do these things anyway.” Mark stroked her hair, his tone soft enough to drip water: “You’re carrying my child; just rest well.” I closed the door, my back against the panel, my fingertips icy cold. Images from four years ago suddenly flooded my mind. At that time, Mark’s company had just started to pick up, and he hired a young, beautiful secretary named Willow. The first time I saw them at the company, Willow was standing on her tiptoes tying Mark’s tie. They smiled intimately, and the large expanse of exposed skin on the woman’s chest was pressed right against him. I confronted Mark, but he said I was being unreasonable: “It’s just a secretary helping her boss tie his tie, and those clothes are the company’s standard uniform. What are you thinking? Chloe, can you be a bit more generous?” Later, I received a photo from Willow. She was lying on a hotel bed, covered with Mark’s suit jacket. The caption: “Mr. Miller says I know how to be romantic much better than you.” I took the photo to the company to confront Mark. But he kicked me out in front of all the company employees. “Chloe! Stop making a fool of yourself here! Make a scene again and we’re getting a divorce!” That day I stood outside the company building. Looking at the man I had loved in that high-rise, my heart completely died. I accompanied him in building his business from scratch, but after striking it rich, he wanted to kick me to the curb. But I wasn’t willing to let it go. Half of this company is my blood and sweat; I couldn’t just hand it over to someone else. I began to plan quietly. I asked a friend to buy sterilization drugs and mixed them into Mark’s coffee. He never suspected me, drinking it with absolute peace of mind. I thought, since I can’t keep his heart, at least I must protect my assets. I would make sure he could never have someone else’s child inherit everything. But I never expected that today, five years later, he would actually bring a pregnant woman home. 2 The first day Mia moved in, she treated me like a nanny. At seven in the morning, she banged loudly on my door: “Sister Chloe, I’m hungry. I want to eat soy milk and fried dough sticks from that old shop downstairs. Go buy them.” I had just finished washing up and hadn’t even had time for breakfast before she bossed me around. When I bought the soy milk and fried dough sticks back, she frowned again and said: “Oh my, I can’t eat fried food right now, it’s bad for the baby.” “Sister Chloe, please go boil some bird’s nest for me, the kind that needs to be stewed for over three hours.” I didn’t say a word, turning and walking into the kitchen. My mother-in-law was sitting in the living room watching TV. Seeing me busy running around, not only did she not help, but she also commanded: “Put a few more red dates in the bird’s nest; Mia is anemic.” In the afternoon, I made four dishes and a soup. Mia only took one bite of a dish and put down her chopsticks: “Sister Chloe, the dishes you made are too salty, the baby can’t handle it.” “And I want to eat sour things right now. Go buy me a bottle of aged vinegar, the sourest kind.” I dug my nails into my palms: “It’s so cold out, you want me to run out and buy vinegar? There’s some in the kitchen; you can drink it like water if you want.” “Sister Chloe, how can you speak like that?” Mia’s eyes immediately reddened, and she looked at Mark, who had just returned home from work: “Mark, I didn’t mean to make things difficult for Sister Chloe, it’s just that the baby wants to eat…” Mark immediately glared at me: “Chloe! What’s wrong with you?” “Mia is pregnant, what’s wrong with wanting something to eat? Go buy it right now!” I gripped the chopsticks in my hand tightly, my knuckles turning white. “Fine, I’ll buy it.” From then on, Mia’s demands became increasingly outrageous. She made me wash her underwear, by hand, saying the washing machine didn’t clean well enough. She made me give her a sponge bath every day, saying it was inconvenient for her to bend over. She even made me clip her toenails, and complained that I didn’t clip them round enough. While making me massage her legs, she stroked her smooth skin: “Sister Chloe, look at your hands, as rough as old tree bark. No wonder Mark doesn’t like you.” “Women need to take good care of themselves, otherwise, you’ll lose your looks at a young age, and who will cherish you then?” I ignored her, continuing to massage. She spoke again: “Sister Chloe, you’ve been with Mark for so many years, have you never given him any surprises? Men all like women who know how to be romantic. You’re like a piece of wood, how could Mark care about you?” When Mark returned, she immediately changed her tune, nestling in his arms: “Mark, you’re back? Sister Chloe massaged me for a long time today. It must have been hard work for her.” Mark touched her face, looking at me with a mocking gaze: “Look at how sensible Mia is. You should learn from her.” I gave a cold laugh and turned into the kitchen. Later, Mia asked me to help her buy maternity and baby supplies, and I immediately agreed. Anyway, it was Mark’s money being spent; why not spend it? Opportunities to openly transfer assets are rare. But I didn’t expect her to push her luck. That night, she handed me a shopping list. The last item was boldly written: “Lingerie.” She blushed, lowering her head shyly: “Sister Chloe, please help me buy this.” “Mark seems a bit tired lately. I want to give him a surprise and make him happy.” I looked at the list, feeling nothing but disgust: “If you want to buy it, go buy it yourself.” “Sister Chloe, why are you like this?” Her tears fell instantly: “I’m a pregnant woman, it’s so inconvenient to go out. And this kind of thing, how could a young girl like me have the nerve to go buy it?” My face went completely cold: “What does that have to do with me?” “You’re already a pregnant woman, what are you pretending to be a young girl for?” Mia cried beautifully: “Sister Chloe, do you dislike me?” “I know I shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be carrying Mark’s child. If you really can’t stand the sight of me, I’ll just leave with the child, so I won’t be an eyesore here.” Mark happened to come back from outside. Hearing the crying, he immediately ran over: “What happened? Why is Mia crying?” 3 “Mark!” Mia threw herself into Mark’s arms, complaining tearfully: “I just wanted Sister Chloe to help me buy something to make you happy. I didn’t expect Sister Chloe to be unwilling, and she even said I shouldn’t be here… How about I just live outside?” Mark glared at me angrily: “Chloe! What are you throwing a fit about again?” “Mia asked you to buy something, so what? Do you have to make things so difficult for her?” I said flatly: “She asked me to buy lingerie.” “Then buy it!” Mark was unconcerned, adopting a high-and-mighty posture: “Mia wants to make me happy, what’s wrong with that? As the older sister, what’s wrong with helping her buy something? You’re just narrow-minded, jealous that Mia is carrying my child!” I finally couldn’t hold it back anymore, abruptly raising my volume: “Mark, have you no shame?” “She’s a mistress! You want me to buy lingerie for your mistress? Are you crazy?” “Shut your mouth!” Mark was livid with anger: “Chloe, I’m warning you, you are not allowed to speak of Mia like that! She is carrying my child, she is a meritorious contributor to the Miller family!” Mia pulled on Mark’s arm, hypocritically advising: “Mark, don’t be angry, it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have asked Sister Chloe to help me buy this kind of thing.” As she spoke, she deliberately leaned towards me. Then her foot slipped, and she fell directly onto the floor. She clutched her stomach, her face deathly pale. “Mia!” Mark was scared out of his wits, hurriedly picking her up: “How are you? Are you okay?” “I… my stomach hurts a bit…” Mia bit her lip, tears streaming down her face. When she looked at me, there was a trace of imperceptible smugness in her eyes: “Sister Chloe, I know you don’t like me, but you shouldn’t have pushed me…” I was stunned. “I didn’t push you!” “If it wasn’t you, who was it?” Mark’s eyes widened in fury, pointing at my nose and cursing: “Chloe, you venomous woman! Mia is pregnant, and you actually dared to push her? I’m telling you, if anything happens to her, I won’t let you off!” I looked at him, my heart sinking little by little. “Mark, are you blind?” “Get back to your room! Without my permission, you are not allowed to come out!” Mark held Mia, shouting sternly: “If there’s any problem with Mia and the baby, I’m not done with you!” I watched as he nervously carried Mia to the hospital, watching my mother-in-law follow behind, cursing. Suddenly, I felt an immense sense of irony. I stood rooted to the spot, speaking coldly: “Since this family doesn’t welcome me, I’ll just leave.” I packed my bags and left the house I had lived in for five years. As soon as I checked into a hotel, my phone rang. It was a WeChat message from Mia. She sent a photo of a designer bag Mark had bought her: “Mark bought this for me, said it’s a gift to make it up to me. By the way, this money seems to be your and Mark’s joint property.” Then, she sent a screenshot of a money transfer. Mark had transferred fifty thousand dollars to her. “Mark told me to spend it however I want, and said once the baby is born, he’ll divorce you. By then you’ll get nothing. Sister Chloe, don’t you think your five years were wasted for nothing?” “Instead of losing all your face then, it’s better to initiate a divorce now and leave with nothing.” I deleted the message and ignored it. In the following days, she escalated her behavior, sending me all kinds of show-off messages every day. Mark took her to buy jewelry. Mark accompanied her to prenatal checkups. Mark hired a top-tier postpartum nanny for her… Every message reminded me of how heartless Mark was, and how smug she was. I looked at those messages and only found them amusing. I was waiting. Waiting for the day she gave birth, waiting for the moment the truth was revealed. In the blink of an eye, three months passed, and Mia gave birth to a son. Mark was overjoyed, throwing a grand banquet, and specifically sent me a message: “We’ve been giving each other the silent treatment for so long, it’s time to let go of your anger. After all, you are the child’s mother in name. It’s inappropriate if you don’t show up.” I looked at the invitation and sneered. Host it, the more lively the better. Such a wonderful play, how could it lack an audience?

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I was slacking off in the office pantry when I stumbled upon a cry-for-help post. The OP claimed I was trying to seduce him every single day. [How far will a female subordinate go to climb the corporate ladder? When presenting proposals, her eyes practically spin sugar threads.] Looking at the blurry photo attached, showing the corner of a desk, I almost spit out my hot coffee. The scratch on that desk, and that chipped mug—no matter how you looked at it, it was my workstation. This blogger went by the handle “Structural Mechanics Fanatic.” In his post, he complained that when his female subordinate presented proposals, she used the blueprints to hide half her face while smiling, calling it pure workplace seduction. I thought to myself, this guy is really overthinking it. I only hid behind the blueprints because I wasn’t confident in my proposal and was afraid of breathing in the boss’s face. Who the hell was trying to seduce him? To test this guy, I deliberately changed my outfit the next day. I wore a black pencil skirt with an edge cut so straight it looked like it was done with a scalpel. I also tied my long hair into a high ponytail, completely exposing the back of my neck. I knew the designers in our company all had OCD when it came to “precision lines.” Sure enough, before my coffee even finished brewing, the post updated. 1 [This woman is playing a high-level game. She knows I have a thing for precision lines, so she deliberately dressed like this today and exposed her neck. Is she trying to challenge my self-control?] The blogger even attached a photo, taken from a high angle, capturing my shadow as I bent over by the printer. I stared at my phone, stunned. That shadow was definitely mine. The angle of the skirt in the light was indeed sharp, but I genuinely wasn’t trying to challenge anyone’s self-control. I clicked into his profile, intending to dig up who this guy actually was. His profile used to be entirely about architectural mechanics and material textures—all specialized jargon I couldn’t understand. But from a certain day onward, the tone completely changed to complaints about a “female subordinate.” [There’s a girl in the company, her eyes sparkle, and she greets me with a smile, while other colleagues hide when they see me. What’s going on?] A netizen replied: [She likes you, obviously.] He replied: [Our company forbids office romances.] He added: [In an architect’s eyes, there are only precise proportions. This kind of seduction is useless against me.] Yet, yesterday’s post had over five thousand likes. [The female subordinate keeps seducing me, affecting my drafting. What should I do?] He wrote a long paragraph underneath, claiming that the frequency with which my fingertips brushed over the matte blueprints during presentations perfectly replicated his habitual points of force application, and that I was inflicting “aesthetic poisoning” on him. Reading this, my suspicion immediately zeroed in on Arthur. His photos frequently featured a custom-made German fountain pen and a specific angle of a building spire outside the window. I had only ever seen that pen on the desk of Arthur, the founder. And that specific angle outside the window could only be captured from the two adjacent top-floor offices belonging to Arthur and Mr. Sinclair, the big boss. They even shared the same assistant team. Could it be that Arthur, the handsome boss who was usually as cold as ice and always kept a straight face, was secretly such a narcissistic drama king behind our backs? To thoroughly verify this, I planned to introduce another “experimental variable.” The next day, I didn’t wear that sharp black skirt, switching back to the most ordinary white button-down and blue skirt. This basic outfit couldn’t possibly be misconstrued as seduction, right? That day, Arthur happened to call a brief meeting. Not long after the meeting ended, the OP blew up again. [This woman’s methods are incredible! Dressing with such visual deception!] I replied to him using my burner account: [How is this basic NPC outfit deceptive? Post a picture.] To slap the netizens’ faces, the OP immediately dropped a photo of my back. It was me, white shirt tucked into the skirt, the lines so flat there wasn’t a single wrinkle. The OP typed frantically below: [You guys don’t understand this aesthetic of alignment! Today, to see me, she even calibrated the seams of her shirt to the millimeter! And the curve of her updo perfectly matches the dome curve from my award-winning project last year. It’s explosively sexy!] This time, it was basically confirmed. That comment about the curve of the back of the neck was indeed the copy from Arthur’s award-winning project last year. Thinking about Arthur’s usual aloof and ascetic demeanor in the office, and then looking at these overly-imaginative essays on my phone, gave me goosebumps. I sat at my workstation, looking at Arthur’s all-glass office not far away. He was wearing gold-rimmed glasses, staring intently at his computer, looking incredibly rigorous. I thought to myself, Boss Arthur, since you think I’m baiting you, if I don’t actually do something real, I’d be doing a disservice to all these posts you’ve made. I took a deep breath, grabbed an inconsequential draft, and prepared to go to his office for a final confirmation. If he really was the OP, the moment I walked in, the post would definitely update instantly. Netizens were still causing a ruckus in the comment section. [OP, you’re being a bit too full of yourself.] [Get back to work, stop staring at your female subordinate all day.] The OP seemed anxious, posting several replies in a row. [Forget it, I can’t explain it to you guys. You don’t understand the attraction of mechanics.] [I reiterate, I have no interest in her. My sole focus is architecture.] Netizens mocked him even harder: [Lmao, OP could be cremated and only his mouth would be left unburned because it’s so hard.] I looked at the screen. Even though the evidence lined up, it was still hard to connect the aloof ice block in front of me with the over-imaginative weirdo online. Arthur was a partner in our company. Single, undeniably handsome, but with a personality as cold as ice. He rarely even cracked a smile in the office—the standard, emotionless capitalist. Rumor had it he only loved architecture and money, keeping women at arm’s length. This guy’s contrast with the “over-imaginative” blogger in my mind was simply too jarring. To find definitive evidence, I decided to take the initiative. Hiding in the company’s transparent pantry, I sent a private message to “Structural Mechanics Fanatic.” [Boss, are you at that top-tier architecture firm?] He replied at lightning speed: [How do you know?] My palms got a little sweaty, and I continued typing: [Can the center of mass distribution on your limited-edition German fountain pen really create mechanical resonance?] This time, he went silent. I looked inside through the bright floor-to-ceiling windows. Arthur was sitting in that all-glass office, and surprisingly, the big boss, Julian Sinclair, was there too. The two were discussing something in low voices. The setting sun poured through the blinds, gilding their sharp silhouettes. Arthur, wearing his gold-rimmed glasses, was focused on his computer screen. That rigorous, ascetic look was indeed quite intimidating. My gaze shifted to the desk. Next to the neat stack of documents, the custom German fountain pen rested steadily on its holder. But what made my heart skip a beat was that between Julian’s long, elegant fingers, he was also twirling an identical pen. My heart pounded. Could there really be more than one of these in the entire company? For the final experiment, I grabbed an inconsequential draft, steeled my resolve, and knocked on the office door. The room was covered in thick gray carpet; stepping on it made no sound. A faint, cold cedar scent floated in the air, creating a strong sense of pressure. When I entered, Arthur looked up at me, while Julian beside him coldly turned sideways, his eyes as deep and temperatureless as a dark pool. “What is it?” Arthur’s voice was deep and weighty. Forcing a smile, I walked over, spread the draft out in front of Arthur, and deliberately leaned in a little closer to them. “Mr. Vance, I’m a bit unsure about the load-bearing structure on this draft.” My fingertips lightly brushed the edge of the matte blueprint, making a faint scratching sound. Immediately after, I deliberately lowered my head. A lock of long hair slid down my shoulder, but due to a miscalculated angle, it accidentally swept across the back of Julian’s hand, which was resting on the desk. I felt Julian stiffen completely, his hand visibly tensing. But he maintained his expression flawlessly, his eyes still icy cold, unmoving. “Leave it here. I’ll look at it later.” Arthur’s tone was stiff, clearly rushing me out. I quickly gathered the blueprints, turned, and left the office. As soon as I was out the door, my legs felt a bit weak. Arthur looked so aloof, and Mr. Sinclair was even more intimidating. Neither of them looked like the type to post narcissistic rants online. But the moment I sat back down in the pantry and refreshed my phone… the post had updated three seconds ago. [She’s back! Tapping her fingertips all over the blueprints, her hair even flirting with the back of my hand. Bringing inconsequential drafts just to report to me… this woman has too many tricks. I’m having a hard time holding back from exposing her.] I stared at the phone screen, my brain crashing for three seconds. This description, this timing… wasn’t this exactly what just happened? But just now… the hair brushed against Mr. Sinclair’s hand! I was losing it. Could it be that the big boss Julian Sinclair, who was so sharp-tongued in meetings he could make people doubt their existence, was actually such an over-imaginative weirdo in private? During the day, he pretends to be an ascetic god in the office, but behind our backs, he frantically records how I’m “strategizing” to win him over? This world is truly insane. I used to think the over-imaginative weirdo online had to be Arthur. After all, that custom pen had indeed appeared on his desk. Just to be completely safe, I decided to give Arthur one final test to thoroughly eliminate him as a suspect. Early the next morning, I bought him a sandwich and brewed a cup of black coffee on my way in. “Morning, Mr. Vance. You look busy lately, brought you some food for a quick energy boost.” I tried to smile appropriately, like a diligent subordinate. Arthur looked up, pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, and took it with a look of mild surprise: “Thanks, Chloe. Just leave it there.” His tone remained cold as he turned his attention back to the construction detail drawings on his computer, frowning, too busy to even look up. His phone lay at the corner of the desk, the screen never lighting up. I observed him from the doorway of his office for the entire morning. He was either in video conferences with top-level clients or rapidly typing on his keyboard reviewing bidding contracts. Both of his hands were in my line of sight the entire time; he had absolutely no opportunity to touch his phone and post. I took the chance to check the post. “Structural Mechanics Fanatic” had updated again. Sure enough, Arthur was ruled out. I finally confirmed that although Arthur was also a founder, the big boss next door—Julian, who appeared less often and was more unfathomable—was the real mastermind. The two shared an assistant team, and many office supplies were even custom-made in pairs, which caused my previous misjudgment. So, the over-imaginative weirdo who spent every day online fantasizing that I was secretly in love with him and trying to seduce him was actually the most aloof, quiet, top-level core of the company—Julian. The moment this thought crystallized, a chill ran down my spine. Mr. Sinclair was the true paranoiac obsessed with structural aesthetics. The core logic of Arthur’s usual proposals actually mostly came from Julian’s hand. But then, an uncontrollable excitement bubbled up within me. Who would have thought that Mr. Sinclair, usually as cold as a block of ice, could have such an active imagination in private? Since he thought I was scheming to bait him, wouldn’t it be a disservice to all the posts he’d made if I didn’t actually do something real? I made up my mind. I was going to be the hunter for once and force him out of hiding. I began implementing my “Reverse Baiting” plan. Step one: Cater to the symptom. Since he liked precision lines and minimalist aesthetics, I changed up my outfits every day to match. I used to dress more casually, but now I had to iron my clothes until there wasn’t a single wrinkle before leaving the house. Especially that black pencil skirt; the tailoring was very stiff, and the curve of the neckline perfectly hit his architectural aesthetic sweet spot. Sure enough, the post updated more frequently. [She wore that outfit again. The line of the neckline is exactly the same as the dome I designed.] [This woman is definitely doing it on purpose. She knows this texture distracts me the most, so she deliberately struts around in front of me.] [Today, she even adjusted the curl of her hair to match my aesthetic. This is a precision strike.] The netizens below were dying of laughter. [Boss, you’re in too deep. She might just be a neat freak.] [This guy is hopeless. Dating purely through imagination? She hasn’t even spoken and you’ve already surrendered?] [Daily check-in: Has the boss been conquered by the female subordinate today?] I held back my laughter at my desk so hard my stomach hurt, my hands shaking as I typed. Step two: Create coincidences. I figured out Julian had an unshakeable habit. Every day at 3 PM sharp, he would go to the convenience store downstairs and buy a bottle of iced black coffee from the very back row of the fridge. So, timing it perfectly, I followed him down two minutes after he left. The fluorescent lights in the convenience store were a bit glaring. I strode over to the chilly glass doors of the fridge. Just in time, Julian also arrived there. His incredibly handsome hand was just about to touch the last bottle of iced Americano. I moved faster, snatching the bottle away right before his fingers touched it. I turned my head, raised an eyebrow at him, and deliberately let a few strands of hair brush against the back of his hand. “Mr. Sinclair, I’m so sorry, but this last bottle is mine.” I gave him a sweet smile. Julian froze completely, his hand suspended in mid-air, unsure whether to retract it or grab something else. He stared at me for a few seconds, his Adam’s apple bobbed, and he forced out two words: “You drink.” With that, he turned and left, walking so fast he almost bumped into a shelf. Carrying the iced coffee, I went back to my desk and started frantically refreshing the webpage. Less than five minutes later, the post exploded. [Help! She just fought me for coffee at the convenience store! It was the last bottle!] [She not only stole my coffee but also copied me by drinking the most bitter black coffee. Is this a display of dominance, or does she want me to remember her taste?] [And the look she gave me just now… the hook in that smile was pulled to the max! I’m about to lose it!] The comments below flooded in: [Boss, it’s a shame you aren’t writing novels with that imagination.] [She clearly just wanted coffee, and you’re insisting she wants to spend her life with you? You really dare to dream.] I looked at my phone, laughing so hard in my seat that my hands shook. Netizen: [Oh boy, the boss got his coffee stolen and his soul hooked. So weak!] The next day, I lined up in front of him and ordered the exact same iced Americano he always got. Julian stood right behind me, staring at the dark liquid with complex eyes. I turned around and gave him a sweet smile: “Mr. Sinclair, what a coincidence. You also like it without milk?” He didn’t speak, just nodded with a cold face, but I saw the tips of his ears, hidden in his hair, quietly turn red. The post updated again. [She’s copying me by drinking iced Americanos! She wants to have the same sensory perception of taste as me! She wants to seep into my life through the same frequency of bitterness! Her love is too aggressive!] Netizens: [Help, I’m dying of secondhand embarrassment from the boss’s imagination. What kind of new workplace literature is this?] [Say no more, lock it down! I’m bringing the civil affairs bureau over right now!] My plan was proceeding very smoothly. Julian’s posts literally became my daily source of joy. But when you play with fire too much, you’re bound to get burned eventually.

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David took me out for steaks and whiskey. It felt off. David has a sensitive stomach; he’s always adhered to a bland diet. He won’t touch anything spicy, even when I cook it. Since when did he crave heavy, greasy restaurant food? Seeing my hesitation, he gave a soft chuckle. “Occasionally, it’s good to change things up.” … 1 “Welcome, right this way, please.” The hostess was young, clean-cut, with a voice like honey. David recognized her instantly. “Amber? What are you doing working here?” The moment Amber Hartley saw David Sterling, a flash of surprise rushed through her eyes. Then she looked down, fidgeting nervously with the hem of her apron. “I needed a part-time job to help with tuition.” “Dr. Sterling, what a coincidence. You still love the ribeyes here, I see.” Amber, the new intern at David’s hospital, spoke casually as she deftly set the table. “Since you brought Mrs. Sterling today, I’ll have the kitchen send out a few complimentary appetizers. On me.” My heart sank. David didn’t love ribeyes. In fact, he despised restaurant food, viewing it all as unhealthy garbage. I managed every aspect of his diet and daily life. As the Chief of Cardiac Surgery, he suffered from ulcers and maintained almost obsessive eating habits. Low sodium, low fat, zero soda—even red meat was restricted to less than twice a week. But now, he just gave a curt nod. “That’s very kind of you.” Amber insisted on staying to serve us personally. She held the tongs, expertly flipping the steaks on the sizzling grill. The grease popped. Amber carved the ribeye and NY strip, placing the best pieces onto David’s plate, one by one. “Dr. Sterling, you work so hard in surgery every day, you need the protein. These cuts are the finest on the animal.” Then she glanced at me, a hint of disdain flashing in her eyes. David set down his fork, naturally swapping my empty plate with his full one. He looked at me with an indulgent smile. “Eat up, honey. You look like you’ve lost weight recently.” 2 “Alright, you can go now. We’d like some privacy.” When Amber withdrew, her eyes were practically screaming. But every one of David’s subtle movements felt like he was overcompensating, trying to hide something. If they didn’t eat here privately all the time, how would Amber know what he “loved” to eat? If they didn’t spend a lot of time together, how would she dare to act so relaxed and flirty in front of the Chief? Halfway through the meal, the lights in the booth suddenly dimmed. A waiter wheeled in a massive, three-tiered strawberry mousse cake, followed by another waiter holding 999 deep-red roses. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Clara.” David stood behind the massive bouquet, the candlelight reflecting off his handsome face. “Thank you for everything this past year. I know taking care of Leo is exhausting. Once this busy season at the hospital is over, I’ll take a long vacation so we can go to the Maldives.” The surrounding diners turned to look, gasping in envy. Amber stood in the shadows of the hallway nearby, staring deathly at the roses, her grip on her serving tray so tight it was bending. I accepted the flowers, smiling gracefully. “Thank you, David.” As soon as the waiters left, Amber rushed back over. “Mrs. Sterling is so lucky. A man like Dr. Sterling is one in a million. But I suppose it makes sense—Mrs. Sterling only needs to arrange flowers and raise the child at home, while Dr. Sterling is out there killing himself to support the family. It must be nice; some of us are just born to toil, not rely on a man.” I set down my fork, slowly wiped my mouth with a napkin, and looked at her. “Miss Hartley, I recorded what you just said.” She froze, her face turning pale. “First, as a server here, making offensive remarks to guests is a serious issue of professionalism. Second, as David Sterling’s student, commenting on your mentor’s family matters is an issue of breeding.” I looked toward the front desk. “Please call your manager over. I want to file a complaint.” Amber panicked, instinctively grabbing David’s sleeve. “Dr. Sterling, I didn’t mean it like that… I was just… just worried that you were pushing yourself too hard…” David looked at her, and a flicker of internal struggle flashed through his otherwise stern eyes. He finally sighed in resignation, turned to me, and said, “Clara, she’s still young, she hasn’t been out in the real world yet. She doesn’t know how to measure her words. I’ll discipline her back at the hospital.” “You are her mentor’s wife, after all. Be the bigger person. Don’t bicker with a young girl, okay?” “Her family is poor; that’s why she’s working part-time here.” I almost laughed in frustration. Because her family is poor, she has to become a homewrecking brat? Because she is poor, I’m supposed to endure her? But David didn’t care. He cut me off before I could speak: “It’s a holiday. My wife isn’t that petty. Let it go.” David practically dragged me away to leave. In the shadows, Amber quietly reached out her hand and quickly brushed it against the back of his hand. And David did not flinch. He not only didn’t flinch, but he also took advantage of the darkness to briefly hold her hand in return. My stomach churned. He was wrong. I am that petty. A man is like a toothbrush—I do not share. 3 From that day on, David never brought up Amber Hartley again. He performed the role of the model husband perfectly: coming home on time, helping our son with homework, handing over his paycheck, and even letting me scroll through his phone whenever I wanted. Three months later, David pushed open the bedroom door looking utterly exhausted. He sat on the edge of the bed, hesitating. “What’s wrong?” I asked, closing my book. “Clara… there’s something I need to discuss with you.” He rubbed his temples. “Amber Hartley was fired from the hospital.” I raised an eyebrow. “Why?” “They claim… she violated operating procedures, leading to a minor medical malpractice issue. But I know it’s because people in the department are pushing her out. She’s too blunt and offended the wrong person.” David sighed heavily. “Her family is buried in debt, and her landlord just kicked her out. A young girl wandering the streets in the middle of the night… I almost hit her driving back just now. I can’t just leave her out there.” My heart sank, bit by bit. “So?” “I was thinking, isn’t our guest room empty? Let her stay for a little while, just until she finds a new job or saves enough for a deposit. Do this as a favor to me, okay?” David walked over, took my hand, his eyes full of pleading. “She was my student, after all. If something really happened to her, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” Live with himself? More like he was heartbroken for her. I sighed helplessly. “Since you’ve already put it that way, what can I say? But I have one condition: we must set ground rules. This cannot affect Leo.” “Absolutely! Clara, you are the best.” David hugged me, visibly relieved. That night, Amber Hartley walked through the door dragging a battered suitcase. She acted very industrious, scrambling to do chores, bowing and scraping before me. But I had already installed the most hidden pinhole cameras in the living room, dining room, and even on the bookshelf in our bedroom. After installing the cameras, I made an excuse to take our son Leo to stay at my mother’s place for a few days. Before I left, David kissed my forehead tenderly, telling me to drive carefully. Sitting on the sofa at my mother’s house, I opened the real-time monitoring app on my phone. David came home from work. Amber was wearing a silk nightgown that barely covered her thighs, with no bra underneath. She paced around the living room, holding a glass of red wine. The moment David walked in the door, Amber wrapped herself around him. “Dr. Sterling, you’re finally back. Mrs. Sterling isn’t home, and this house is terrifyingly cold.” David pushed her slightly. “Amber, don’t be like this.” Amber’s voice came through the speaker. “Dr. Sterling, you’ve eaten so many steaks with me. I don’t believe you’ve never felt anything. You clearly love me. Why stay with that woman who only knows how to stay home and raise a child?” “She does it for this family…” David’s defense was pathetic and weak. “She does it for the money!” Amber ripped off David’s tie, lifting her face to kiss his neck. “If you didn’t have your current status, would she willingly stay at home? Only I… I truly admire you, Professor… Take me…” David’s hand ultimately settled on her waist. They engaged in intimacy all the way from the sofa to our master bedroom bed. On the silk sheets I had meticulously selected, they freely vented their desires. David’s voice panted, with a wildness I had never heard before: “Amber… you are so much more flavorful…” I shut off my phone, my fingertips ice cold. David Sterling, since you’ve chosen this path, prepare to leave this marriage with nothing. 4 Upon my return, I acted as if everything were normal, cooking for David and allowing Amber to continue living in the house. Amber grew increasingly arrogant. While doing laundry, she even deliberately washed her underwear mixed together with David’s shirts. I turned a blind eye to all of it. I started visiting financial planners and law firms. Using the excuse of establishing an education fund for our son, I leveraged David’s trust in me to coax him into signing complex English contracts and power-of-attorney forms, one after another. He was so immersed in the illusory pleasure Amber provided that he didn’t even glance at the contents. “Honey, these are a few dividend agreements from our insurance company. Signing them will double next year’s returns.” “Honey, I want to transfer this property to my mother’s name. Just in case the hospital faces any lawsuits, we’ll have a backup.” David was texting Amber on WhatsApp while carelessly scribbling his signature. “Sure, I trust you to handle it.” He smiled and kissed me. “Clara, you really are my capable right hand.” Yes, of course I am your capable right hand. I am going to help unload all of your money. I uncovered all of David’s private accounts. Through gift deeds, the assets under my name were quietly expanding. While the numbers in David’s accounts outwardly remained unchanged, in reality, the usage rights to that money had already quietly shifted to my control through the various trust guarantees he had signed. It was Valentine’s Day again. David had a massive headache recently. Amber Hartley was no longer satisfied with just providing emotional connection. She was demanding a Hermes Birkin as a Valentine’s gift. David could only agree. He slipped away into his study to call the sales associate: “Yes, I’ll be over on Valentine’s Day to pick it up. Charge my private card.” What he didn’t know was that without my consent, not a single penny could be withdrawn from that card. 5 Valentine’s Day. David woke up even earlier than usual. He stood before the mirror meticulously styling his hair and even put on cologne. “There’s an important academic conference today. I might be back late tonight.” He said to me while tying his tie, his eyes shifting slightly. I was peeling a boiled egg for our son Leo, not lifting my head. “What about tonight? Didn’t we agree to have dinner together?” “Of course! I will definitely be back to spend the holiday with you.” He walked over, placing a light kiss on my forehead. “I booked a table at that French restaurant you love. 7:00 PM, sharp. I’ll be there.” Lies. All lies. I glanced at the corner of the living room, where Amber Hartley was pretending to wipe down a table, but her ears were perked up high. “Okay. I’ll wait for you.” After David left, I opened my mobile banking app, entered the password, and clicked to freeze his accounts. You didn’t seriously think I would allow you to use marital assets to curry favor with your mistress? I called my son room: “Leo, how would you like to go play at Grandma’s house today?” “Yay!” My seven-year-old son jumped up in excitement. “Will Grandma make me a cake?” “Yes, and she’ll take you to the playground.” After arranging everything, I took my son and went out. In the car, I dialed a number: “Counselor, you may begin.” “Are you certain, Mrs. Sterling? Once this starts, there is no turning back.” “I am certain.” Meanwhile, David and Amber walked side-by-side into the Hermes boutique. Amber wore a white dress today, with meticulous makeup, looking pure and enchanting. “Dr. Sterling, I really, really love that bag.” She clung to David’s arm, her voice sticky. “My colleague’s boyfriend got her one, and she flaunts it in front of me every single day.” David patted her hand. “Buying it for you today. You won’t need to envy anyone else after this.” The sales associate greeted them warmly: “Mr. Sterling, the bag you ordered is ready. Please come this way.” Amber’s eyes lit up, practically gluing themselves to the expensive leather goods in the display cases. The associate retrieved a gift box, carefully opening it. The silver hardware sparkled under the lights. “That’s it!” Amber excitedly grabbed David’s arm. David pulled out his wallet, took out his black credit card, and handed it to the associate. The associate ran the card, her brows furrowing slightly: “Mr. Sterling, this card is not processing. It says transaction restricted.” “How is that possible?” David froze for a moment. “Is something wrong with the machine? Try again.” The associate tried again, with the same result. Other customers nearby were already casting glances their way. Amber’s face began to flush red. “Use this one.” David produced a debit card. Same result. A third card, a fourth… David tried every card in his wallet; none of them worked. The associate’s expression shifted from warm to awkward. “Mr. Sterling, perhaps there’s some issue with your accounts. I suggest you contact your bank.” Amber released David’s arm, taking a step back: “Dr. Sterling, what is this supposed to mean? You promised me!” “Amber, don’t worry. There must be some misunderstanding.” Beads of sweat began to appear on David’s forehead. He pulled out his phone. “We’re sorry, the line you are calling is busy…” It was a busy signal, several times in a row. David attempted to log into his mobile banking, but it displayed an incorrect password. Only then did he remember that I set all the bank card passwords; he usually never concerned himself with these details. Amber’s expression grew uglier by the second. She looked around, feeling like everyone was laughing at her. A young girl passed by her, tossing out a quiet remark: “If you can’t afford it, don’t come in acting high-class.” “David Sterling!” she shouted his full name. “Are you playing me? Saying you love me, that you want to give me the best, yet you can’t even produce twenty thousand dollars? Do you know how much I bragged to my friends? How am I supposed to face anyone now?” “Amber, let me explain…” “Explain what? Explain how your wife controls you so completely you can’t even use a card?” Amber’s voice grew louder. “I thought you were a successful man. Turns out you’re just a kept man!” A crowd was gathering, pointing and whispering. David’s face flushed bright red. He grabbed Amber’s arm: “Let’s take this outside.” “Let go of me!” Amber violently shook him off. “I must have been blind. I was fired from the hospital for you, I gave up everything for you, and for what? You’re just a liar!” She turned and rushed out of the store. David hurriedly chased after her, leaving the associate and a group of spectating customers staring at each other. Outside the mall, Amber had already hailed a taxi. David ran over and grabbed the car door: “Amber, don’t be like this. I swear I will solve this. I will absolutely buy you the bag tomorrow!” “Don’t touch me!” Amber’s eyes were filled with resentment. “David Sterling, let me tell you, this isn’t over!” The taxi sped away. David stood in place, his suit in disarray, his tie crooked. The house was empty. On the dining table was a note: “Took Leo to my mom’s house. See you at the restaurant at 7:00 PM.” He breathed a sigh of relief, took a shower, changed into a clean suit, and practiced smiling in the mirror. At exactly 7:00 PM, David appeared sharply at the French restaurant. I was already waiting for him at a window table. “Honey, you look beautiful today.” I looked up at him with a faint smile: “Is the money in your cards still usable?”

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When we went to the impoverished mountain area to sponsor a child, my best friend, Chloe, couldn’t wait to choose the autistic boy. “This kid looks so pitiful. Mia, you have a weak constitution, you should sponsor that genius boy. You’ll enjoy a good life with him later!” Everyone praised my best friend’s loyalty, but only I knew she had been reborn. In our previous life, two children in the mountain area stood out. One was an exceptionally intelligent genius, and the other was a silent, autistic child. Chloe rushed to take the genius boy. But the boy turned out to be an ungrateful wretch. After getting into an Ivy League university, he completely ignored her. When he eventually became a billionaire doctor, he even played the victim, accusing her of molesting and abusing him. My best friend was cyberbullied, lost her job, went bankrupt from lawsuits, and her parents died of anger because of her. Meanwhile, the autistic child I sponsored later became a renowned designer, winning countless international awards. When Chloe had nothing left, seeing the respectful and loving way the boy treated me drove her mad with jealousy. She hit me with her car and killed me. Opening her eyes again, she definitely wouldn’t repeat her past mistakes. But looking at her smug face, I couldn’t help but laugh. Doesn’t she know that autism, when it reaches a certain level, can turn into psychopathy? 1 “Liam has had autism since he was little. It’s not just that he doesn’t speak; his emotions are highly unstable. He hits people over the slightest displeasure. The teachers at the orphanage have been beaten by him several times.” “He also suddenly screams and cries at night, staying awake all night. You really need to think this through.” As she spoke, the orphanage director pushed the straight-A student, Arthur, forward. “This child has been incredibly smart since he was little. Not only are his grades top-notch, but he also knows how to handle things and is very sensible!” Arthur, wearing a white shirt and jeans, smiled brightly at Chloe, looking exactly like the male lead in a campus romance novel. But Chloe backed away repeatedly as if she had seen a ghost. “No!!” “Arthur is so excellent, he should go to Mia. Taking care of Liam is too exhausting, I couldn’t bear to see her suffer.” I rolled my eyes hard inwardly at her hypocritical display. In our previous life, Chloe wasn’t like this at all. Back then, she couldn’t wait to pull Arthur to her side, terrified I would fight her for him. Arthur indeed lived up to expectations: he got into an Ivy League, earned his Ph.D., started a business after graduation, and became a billionaire doctor at a young age. During that time, Chloe showed off to me every chance she got. “Mia, what can the kid you’re raising do besides hit people and scream?” “I guess this is it for you in this life—serving an idiot, with no hope of ever getting ahead.” “Unlike me. Arthur is worth hundreds of millions now. I won’t have to do anything from now on, just lie back and enjoy life.” But no one expected that the glamorous Arthur was actually an ungrateful wretch. He accused Chloe on camera of molesting and abusing him since childhood, and later forcing him to marry her. Overnight, Chloe became a pariah. Netizens photoshopped her pictures into funeral portraits and splashed paint all over her front door. Her company couldn’t withstand the pressure and had to fire her. On her way home, she saw her own parents killed in a hit-and-run. Finally, Arthur sued her for a massive sum in compensation. She emptied her savings but still couldn’t fill the hole, eventually ending up on the streets, begging to survive. Meanwhile, the Liam I sponsored not only stepped out of the shadow of autism but also became a famous designer, eventually gifting all his assets to me. Chloe went mad with jealousy and drove her car straight into me, killing me. Reborn into this life, she naturally couldn’t wait to get rid of Arthur. I looked at Chloe in front of me and asked softly: “If you choose him, aren’t you afraid you’ll regret it?” Chloe immediately waved her hand dismissively, her face full of contempt. “What do you know! Liam looks quiet, but he’s definitely a genius in his bones. Don’t fight me for him!” “Only certain people look like decent human beings but are actually ungrateful, backstabbing wolves. I wouldn’t want that.” I sneered inwardly at her determined look. Fight her for him? I couldn’t wait for her to take him away quickly. No one knew that behind Liam’s glamorous facade was an endless nightmare I endured. After he recovered from his autism, he developed a severe, paranoid possessiveness. He would secretly delete all male contacts from my phone while I was asleep, calling it “afraid you’ll get scammed.” He installed bars on all the windows in the house under the guise of safety, keeping me trapped like a bird in a gilded cage. When I was sick, he stayed by my side constantly. But then he turned around and fired a male doctor who had just handed me a cup of water. He always said: “Only I can protect you.” Yet, when I tried to contact my family, he smashed my phone and roared with red eyes: “You have me, that’s enough! You don’t need anyone else!” The suffocating feeling wrapped in that “gentleness” made me despair even more than his fists did when he was a child. Even if Chloe hadn’t run me over with her car, I wouldn’t have lasted much longer in that kind of life. Since Chloe wanted a paranoid psychopath in this life, I’d let her have him. I absolutely didn’t want to suffer the pain of being imprisoned and abused again! As soon as we got home, Arthur put down his luggage and started studying. But when I woke up from my nap, I found that dinner, with meat and vegetables, was already laid out on the dining table. Looking at the cautious and eager-to-please Arthur in front of me, I felt incredibly comfortable. In my previous life, when I first brought Liam through the door, he suddenly went crazy. He not only smashed everything in the house to pieces but also strangled me tightly. If I hadn’t prepared a sedative in advance, I wouldn’t have survived that day. Now, having an obedient, sensible, and good-looking Arthur, how could I not be happy? Seeing me staring at the food without moving, Arthur lowered his voice even more. “Is it not to your taste? Should I go make something else?” I quickly shook my head, picked up my chopsticks, took a bite, and nodded, saying: “It’s very good, no need to change it.” “If you need anything in the future, just ask me. I will help you with whatever I can satisfy.” Hearing this, Arthur’s eyes lit up. He hesitated for a few seconds before saying, “I want to participate in the National Physics Olympiad…” I instantly remembered that in my previous life, Arthur won the gold medal in this very competition, earning him an exceptional admission to a top Ivy League school. From then on, his reputation as a physics genius spread nationwide, and he only had coldness and disgust for Chloe. I hesitated for a moment, but then thought that sponsoring a child was a good deed to begin with. Cultivating a talent is a good thing; I never expected him to repay me with anything. I nodded immediately. “Of course you can. I’ll help you prepare, and I’ll handle whatever you need.” A bright smile immediately bloomed on Arthur’s face. He turned and headed back to the kitchen: “Then I’ll get you another bowl of soup, drink more to nourish your body.” Looking at his joyful back, I really couldn’t figure out how he turned into the ungrateful wretch he became later. Just after I finished eating, a video call from Chloe popped up on my phone. When connected, the screen showed Liam sitting at a desk, holding a paintbrush. On the paper was a crude drawing, messy lines showing absolutely no talent. Chloe leaned into the camera and said triumphantly: “Mia, look how good Liam is! He can even draw!” “What’s the use of a physics genius? He might just turn out to be an ungrateful wretch. You’ll regret it sooner or later.” “Liam is a true genius. I’ll stick with him from now on and enjoy endless good days.” I rolled my eyes at her incessant chatter. Even though she deliberately angled the camera away from the smashed-up house, the bright red slap mark on her face was still clearly visible. I truly couldn’t endure the “blessing” of being tortured by a psychopath. Besides, she probably didn’t know yet that Liam’s later talent in painting was all thanks to my father, a master of traditional painting, guiding and teaching him bit by bit. Without the guidance of a professional teacher in this life, given his condition, he probably wouldn’t even be able to speak complete sentences, let alone become a famous designer. I couldn’t be bothered to waste my breath on her, just gave a few perfunctory responses, and hung up the phone. In the following days, I used my family’s resources to find many physics experts to tutor Arthur every week, and even managed to get him exclusive competition exercise books. Arthur studied exceptionally hard and became increasingly considerate of me in daily life. He would prepare meals in advance morning and night, remembering I don’t eat cilantro, and even rushed to do chores, never letting me worry too much. Watching him handle everything so thoughtfully, I became even more confused: how could someone so sensible suddenly turn into a backstabbing wretch in the previous life? Before I could sort out my thoughts, my phone suddenly rang. When I answered, Chloe’s heart-wrenching crying instantly came through. “Mia, come quickly to the police station! Save me!” When I rushed to the police station and asked around, I found out that Chloe had insisted on sending Liam to learn painting. The result? On his very first day, Liam went berserk, grabbed an inkstone, and broke two of the teacher’s fingers! The other party demanded a ten-thousand-dollar compensation. Chloe couldn’t come up with the money, which was why she frantically called me for help. I didn’t hesitate much, fronted the medical expenses for her, and told her to take Liam away first. Before she left, I couldn’t help but remind her: “His emotions are completely unstable right now. He’s not suited to interact with the outside world. You need to find a professional for intervention first.” Unexpectedly, Chloe flew into a rage out of humiliation, pointing at my nose and cursing: “Mind your own business! You just can’t stand that Liam is a genius!” “What do you have to be so smug about? That ungrateful wretch Arthur will turn on you sooner or later, and then you’ll taste what it’s like to have your family destroyed!” As soon as she finished speaking, Liam, who had been silent all along, suddenly stepped forward and hugged her waist, rubbing his fuzzy head against her neck. Chloe immediately beamed with joy. “See? Look how clingy he is with me now. His autism is much better.” I shivered, terrified by the fleeting look of resentment I caught in Liam’s eyes. This wasn’t an improvement; it was clearly the onset of twisted paranoia! I was afraid of getting burned, so I didn’t say another word, turned around, and headed home. From then on, every time I heard news of Chloe, it was either her being beaten into the hospital by Liam, or Liam smashing up another art class. I felt she was a total jinx and even avoided walking near her. But I never expected that during Arthur’s first summer break after getting into an Ivy League, Chloe would actually show up at my house uninvited. As soon as she walked in, she raised her chin, her tone full of mockery. “Mia, what did I tell you?” “That ungrateful wretch Arthur stopped contacting you after he started college, didn’t he? He doesn’t even come home; he doesn’t care about you at all!” I froze for a moment, and thinking carefully, it really was as she said. After Arthur reported he had arrived safely at school, there had been no news from him. All the messages I sent were left on read with no reply. Seeing that I didn’t refute her, Chloe grew even more smug. “Liam is much better than him. He sticks to me every day and is completely obedient to me.” “You better watch out. When Arthur needs startup capital in the future, who knows how badly he’ll scam you!” “When the time comes, you’ll become a rat everyone wants to beat. Don’t regret choosing the wrong person when your family is destroyed.” After she finished, she smiled even more triumphantly. Although I never asked for anything in return when I sponsored Arthur, Chloe’s words were like a thorn, making me feel extremely uncomfortable. I took out my phone, wanting to call Arthur to ask about the situation, only to find out when I dialed that he had already blocked me. Clicking on his social media, it was full of photos from college activities. He was smiling brightly, living a very exciting life. And his latest post prominently read: [Getting ready to start a business with my best friend. Let’s go!] I suddenly remembered my previous life. When he first started his business and was short on cash, he smoothly borrowed money from Chloe. But once the money was in his hands, he immediately blocked her. For five years after that, he completely ignored Chloe. And the next time he came looking for her, it was when he had become one of the top, wealthiest doctors in the country. To expand his hospital’s reputation, he wildly proclaimed online that he had been abused and molested by his sponsor. Chloe tried to find him to clear her name, but was blocked in the hospital by reporters he had hired, thoroughly cementing the narrative that she was an abuser. Before I could recover from my shock, my phone suddenly vibrated. Arthur had sent a message. “Sister, I want to start a business, but I’m still a bit short on startup capital. Can you lend me some money?” Chloe leaned over, saw the message on the screen, and instantly burst into uncontrollable laughter. “I told you he was an ungrateful wretch! Asking for money as soon as he starts college; he’s a bottomless pit!” “Who knows what he’ll do to you for money in the future!” I stared at the screen, hesitating for a few seconds, but still replied: “How much do you need?” The smile on Chloe’s face froze instantly, and she stared at me as if I were an idiot. “Are you crazy? You actually believe the nonsense this little animal says?” “He just treats you like a sucker, a walking ATM!” I ignored Chloe’s words. Since I sponsored him, I should fulfill my responsibility. Without saying much, I directly transferred ten thousand dollars. Chloe was stomping her feet in anger beside me. Just as she was about to speak, her phone suddenly rang. When she answered, the art teacher’s voice was loud enough to hear even without speakerphone. “Come pick up Liam immediately! This kid can’t be a genius; he’s a piece of trash!” “He can’t even distinguish basic colors, and he’s always throwing tantrums! No one can teach him!” Chloe’s face instantly turned green. She hung up the phone, glared at me fiercely, grabbed her bag, slammed the door, and left. That same day, I saw on the news that Chloe caused a huge scene at the art institute for Liam, resulting in her being taken to the police station again. Only this time, she couldn’t find me to rescue her. It wasn’t until half a month later that the two were released, looking disheveled. By that time, Arthur’s company was already somewhat famous, and major newspapers were rushing to report on it. That evening, I had just finished washing up when I heard my front door being violently banged on by Chloe. “What are you doing?” She smiled sinisterly, and I backed away in fear. “Why? Why does everything go smoothly for you no matter what you choose?” “I can’t wait to see that ungrateful wretch Arthur trample you under his feet and ruin your reputation! I want you dead right now!” As soon as she finished speaking, she grabbed my neck like a madwoman. Just as I was about to struggle, she sprayed something blindly in my face, and my vision went black as I fainted. When I woke up again, the living room was packed with people. Camera shutters clicked continuously, and the flashes blinded me. “Are you a psychopath? Did you sponsor a genius boy just to satisfy your own desire for control?” “I heard you forced Arthur to work like a slave, and even beat and scolded him. Is it true?” “Does a woman like you deserve to be called human? You sponsored a child just to vent your dark thoughts!” My mind was completely blank. Before I could even react, my phone started vibrating like crazy. My mom’s panicked voice rang in my ear. “Mia, what is going on? So many people came to the house.” “They are smashing and looting… Honey, what’s wrong with you…” Before my mom could finish, the call disconnected. I turned my head stiffly and looked at Chloe, who was standing among the reporters. She triumphantly waved her phone at me. Only then did I realize that Chloe had used my account to post a long article. In it, she not only detailed fabricated accounts of me abusing Arthur but also wrote about many perverse fantasies I supposedly had about him. The comments underneath were already unbearable. [Trash like this should be arrested and shot!] [A demon cloaked in kindness. That poor child!] [I’ve already doxxed her address. I’m going to go ask her parents how they raised such an animal!] I felt a chill all over and practically roared: “These are all lies! Where is Arthur? He knows the truth!” Chloe smiled even more triumphantly, leaned close to my ear, and said in a voice only we could hear: “Where do you think those fake injury photos came from?” “As long as Arthur sues you, he’ll have all the money he needs for his startup. Do you think he’ll help you?” Hearing this, my heart sank heavily. Does it really mean that even if I poured my heart out for Arthur, it was all for nothing? Right at that moment, a voice suddenly rang out from the crowd. “Everything she said is true.” Chloe and I turned our heads at the same time. When we saw who it was, Chloe and I both widened our eyes, faces full of disbelief. Seeing this, the reporters all swarmed forward, almost shoving their microphones into Arthur’s mouth. The clamor of overlapping questions instantly drowned out the surrounding noise. “Mr. Vance, regarding Ms. Chloe’s previous statement that you suffered long-term suppression and mistreatment from Ms. Mia, is that true?” “Are you wearing a lab coat because you just came from the lab? Did Ms. Mia interfere even with your work?” “Ms. Chloe said you once asked her for help, accusing Ms. Mia of atrocities. Now that you’ve suddenly appeared, were you coerced by Ms. Mia?” “Ms. Mia has been silent this whole time. Does that mean she admits to all the allegations? As the person involved, can you detail the specific things Ms. Mia has done to you?”

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After a night of intimacy, my battalion commander husband pulled up his pants and vanished for three days. The next time I heard news of him, it was a celebratory announcement from military command. Arthur Vance had been awarded a first-class merit. Only then did I learn that his disappearance over the past few days was to rescue his childhood sweetheart. Rumor had it that when he returned, he was covered in injuries and had nearly died. The following day, Private Chen, a communications orderly, hurriedly pushed open the door to our base housing: “Dr. Miller! The Commander is refusing to let us treat his wounds at the medical tent. The pain is unbearable, but he says he only wants the soothing tea you make.” For Arthur, this was a rare display of weakness. I huddled on my cot, flipping through a combat trauma care manual, and didn’t even look up: “I don’t know how to make it.” Private Chen paced anxiously: “The Commander got hurt providing cover for a comrade!” “Cover for whom? Emily Davis?” I cut him off. “She was there, wasn’t she? Tell her to do it.” Over the next few days, Arthur’s subordinates took turns trying to persuade me. “Ma’am, there’s no such thing as an overnight grudge between husband and wife.” “The Commander has been thinking of you constantly.” My answer remained the same: “I don’t have time. Go find Emily.” … When Arthur finally returned, it was the evening of the third day. He stood in the doorway, his face pale, suppressing a storm of anger and confusion in his eyes: “Chloe, are you really this cold-hearted?” I turned to meet his gaze, my tone flat and icy: “Isn’t Emily taking care of you? Why should I go make a mess of things and be an eyesore?” Arthur’s chest heaved violently: “Are you still holding a grudge about last time?” Holding a grudge? I was in emergency surgery for four days. The shrapnel in my abdomen was two millimeters away from my kidney. And in his mouth, it had become “holding a grudge.” At the time, a sudden firefight broke out at the border. As the unit’s embedded medical officer, I was treating the wounded on the front lines. A stray bullet hit nearby, and the blast wave threw me to the ground. Blood poured from my abdomen. The comms channel was filled with the hoarse shouts of my comrades, but Arthur, who was at the command post barely a hundred yards away, never moved. I found out later that Emily had suffered an asthma attack at the rear camp. He abandoned the defensive line during an intense firefight, scooped her up, and rushed her to the medical tent. A week later, I was transferred to a regular ward. Arthur pushed the door open in his combat uniform, impatience knitting his brows: “Chloe, are you done playing the martyr?” He threw a bag of cold steamed buns onto the nightstand, his tone rigid. “The doctor said it missed your vitals, so stop hogging a bed. The camp is swamped; no one has the free time to orbit around you all day.” I looked down at the blood-soaked bandages on my abdomen. Every breath pulled at my nerves with a sharp ache. Seeing me silent, Arthur’s frown deepened: “Will you only be satisfied when the whole battalion thinks I’m mistreating my wife?” “Emily has a weak constitution; she can’t handle shocks.” “You’re a combat medic. You see life and death all the time. Is it really necessary to cling to a minor injury like this?” My heart felt like it had been thrown into an ice cellar, the chill piercing my bones. I looked up at him, my eyes as still as stagnant water. Arthur froze. Suddenly, the two-way radio on his belt crackled to life, and Emily’s tearful voice came through: “Arthur, I think I hear movement outside the camp… I’m so scared…” Arthur’s tone instantly softened enough to wring water from it: “Don’t be afraid. Lock the door. I’ll be right there.” Cutting the comms, his gaze returned to its cold, hard state when he looked at me. “Process your own discharge. Emily needs someone with her.” I lowered my eyes, staring at the bruised puncture marks on the back of my hand from the IV lines: “Go ahead.” Arthur was enraged by my indifferent demeanor. But ultimately, his concern for Emily won out. He turned and strode away, leaving the hospital room in dead silence. I pulled out my IV needle and dialed the recruitment office for the International Rescue Corps. The voice on the other end was filled with joy: “Dr. Miller, you’ve finally decided! The final roster for the rescue medical team hasn’t been submitted yet, so there’s plenty of time for you to join. But this deployment is for at least five years, stationed in active conflict zones. It’s incredibly dangerous. What about your family…” I looked out the window at the dark, oppressive clouds, a storm brewing: “I accept. This is a personal decision and has nothing to do with my family.” After a pause, I added, “He and I will soon have no relationship anyway.” My lawyer was extremely efficient. Half an hour later, the digital copy of the divorce agreement arrived in my inbox. Years ago, to reassure me about following him on deployments, Arthur had signed a blank agreement, giving me the freedom to leave at any time. I twitched my lips into a cynical smile. I hadn’t expected this day to come so soon. Chapter 2 The next day, military command held a victory banquet at the guest house. Amidst the clinking of glasses, no one noticed that I, the wife of the honored commander, was as pale as paper. Emily, as a special guest, sat beside Arthur, obediently pouring drinks for the high-ranking officers, looking very much like the lady of the house. Suddenly, Emily let out a low gasp, drawing everyone’s attention. She was holding a fountain pen; the nib was bent, and ink had stained the hem of her uniform skirt. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Emily’s eyes reddened as she looked at me timidly. “I saw this pen drop on the floor and wanted to pick it up, but I accidentally stepped on it… Chloe, please don’t be mad at me?” It was my father’s memento. He had been a peacekeeping medical officer. After he died in the line of duty, this was the only thing he left me. I valued it more than my life and never allowed anyone else to touch it. I abruptly stood up, walked over quickly, and with trembling hands, picked up the deformed pen. “It’s just an old pen.” Seeing my face change drastically, Arthur instinctively shielded Emily behind him. “I’ll buy you a new one later.” My usually gentle eyes were now bloodshot: “This is what my father left me. Arthur, you know that.” Arthur was momentarily stunned by my glare, a trace of panic flashing in his heart, Which was immediately covered by the annoyance of losing face in public: “Emily didn’t do it on purpose. Why are you being so aggressive and ruining the mood for everyone?” I clenched the fountain pen tightly, the broken nib piercing my palm. Blood dripped through my fingers: “Fine, I won’t hold a grudge. Have her drink this glass of alcohol, and we’ll call it even.” I pointed to a full glass of high-proof liquor on the table. Emily’s face went white, and she clutched her chest: “Arthur, my heart isn’t good, I can’t drink…” Arthur’s eyes completely iced over: “Chloe, you know her body can’t handle it!” He slammed the glass down heavily in front of me, “You want someone to drink it? You drink it for her. Drink it, and we turn the page.” The entire room fell dead silent. Everyone knew my stomach had been severely injured. During the last mission, just a drop of alcohol had triggered massive internal bleeding, and I had barely survived after emergency resuscitation. The doctor’s orders were explicit: absolute prohibition of alcohol. Arthur glared at me: “Are you going to drink or not? If not, get out, and don’t ever come back.” He was certain I wouldn’t leave, certain I couldn’t bear to give up these five years of life as a military spouse. But I smiled. A smile that made Arthur’s heart skip a beat for no reason. “Alright. I’ll drink it.” I picked up the glass and downed it in one gulp. The strong liquor burned my esophagus and stomach lining. All color drained from my face, and cold sweat broke out. I put the blood-stained fountain pen into my pocket, my voice so light it seemed it would dissipate: “Arthur, this is the last time.” “Not just for forgiveness, but also the last time in these five years that I will degrade myself.” Violent cramps made my vision go dark. I gritted my teeth, not letting out a single groan. My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was the approval notification from the Rescue Corps: “Comrade Chloe Miller, your application has been approved. Please report to the airport for assembly at 9:00 AM this Friday.” Chapter 3 I turned off the screen and, under Arthur’s complex gaze, turned and walked out of the banquet hall. Severe stomach pain hit me. I leaned against the revolving door and collapsed to my knees. When I woke up again, I was in the IV room of the military hospital. The door pushed open, and Arthur walked in carrying an insulated lunchbox. His eyes were heavily bloodshot, looking as if he hadn’t slept all night. “You’re awake? I brought you some soup.” He sat on the edge of the bed and tried to take my hand, but I silently pulled away. Arthur’s hand froze in mid-air, then slowly retracted: “The doctor said you need bed rest. I’ve handed over camp duties to the deputy commander. I’ll stay with you.” “I was speaking in anger last night. I didn’t know you were hurt this badly. Why didn’t you say anything?” I looked at him with the unfamiliarity of a stranger. Arthur began to panic, desperately wanting to grasp onto something: “Chloe, when you’re better, let’s have a child.” “Didn’t you always want one before?” “I asked the doctor. Emily can’t have children. We’ll have one, and let her be the godmother.” I froze, then laughed out loud, the vibration pulling at the cramps in my stomach: “Arthur, forget about the child. I don’t want my child calling someone else ‘mother’.” A familiar frustration surged in Arthur’s heart. He felt he had already bowed his head and compromised, yet I was still being unforgiving: “Chloe, do you have to be so prickly with every word? I’m willing to make it up to you. What more do you want?” I didn’t answer, my gaze falling on the calendar by the bed. Three more days. On the day of my discharge, Arthur specially drove a military vehicle to pick me up: “There’s an academic military commendation ceremony today. Command specifically asked for you to attend.” “Your previous ‘Modified Protocol for Emergency Treatment of Battlefield Trauma’ is highly regarded by the higher-ups.” A ripple finally appeared in my dead eyes. That paper was the result of my blood, sweat, and tears, born from eight months of analyzing thousands of field medical records. Arriving at the auditorium, Arthur left me backstage: “Wait here a moment. I’m going to the front to make arrangements.” I stood behind the curtain, listening to the thunderous applause from the front as the host’s enthusiastic voice echoed: “Now, please welcome the winner of this year’s ‘Strong Army Cup’ academic gold medal, Comrade Emily Davis, to the stage to share her award-winning paper, ‘Modified Protocol for Emergency Treatment of Battlefield Trauma’!” My mind went completely blank. On the large screen’s presentation, every chart, every data annotation, even the rough sketches in the margins of the manuscript, were exactly the same as my paper. That was my life’s work, but the author was listed as Emily. I don’t know how I walked onto the stage, but I snatched the microphone: “This paper is mine! The raw data is on my computer, and the experimental logs are in my filing cabinet. Emily, you can’t even pronounce the basic terminology correctly, and you dare to accept this award?” Chapter 4 Emily’s eyes instantly turned red, tears falling: “Chloe, I know you’re jealous that I get to stay at headquarters, but I stayed up all night researching and writing this paper. How can you lie just to frame me?” “Whether it’s a lie can be easily verified.” I looked toward the commanders’ seats. “I request a thorough investigation by military command!” “Enough!” Arthur snatched the microphone, shouting sternly. He stood in front of Emily, facing the audience, his tone pained but firm: “Commanders, comrades, I am deeply sorry.” “My wife, Chloe, was injured in a recent border skirmish. The massive blood loss caused severe PTSD, making her mental state unstable. She frequently experiences memory confusion and persecution delusions. The doctors have recommended involuntary psychiatric treatment.” A wave of realization washed over the audience. Looks of suspicion turned to sympathy and pity. I stood rooted to the spot, looking at Arthur’s righteous face, feeling the blood in my veins turn ice cold. “Arthur, to pave the way for her, you would crush my reputation and my career?” “This is what you owe her.” Arthur turned off the microphone, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “Chloe, Emily has a weak constitution. This staff position will give her the best medical coverage. You’re already a key medical officer; this award is just icing on the cake for you, but it’s a lifeline for her. Learn to be accommodating, don’t you understand?” He raised his hand, and two guards rushed forward, grabbing me by each arm. Arthur ordered: “Take Dr. Miller to the break room and contact the specialists at the mental health center.” I didn’t struggle, letting the guards escort me off the stage. Arthur, since you say I’m sick, then I’ll give you exactly what you want. The public relations department moved swiftly. To protect the reputation of Emily, the rising star of military command, a bulletin with blue text on a white background swept the internet half an hour later. [Statement regarding the inappropriate words and actions of military medical officer Chloe M. at the commendation ceremony: Comrade Chloe M. was recently injured in the line of duty and has been diagnosed with severe PTSD, resulting in cognitive bias and emotional loss of control. Our department has decided to suspend her duties for treatment. We deeply apologize to Comrade Emily Davis, who was affected by this incident.] Overnight, I went from being the youngest key medical officer at command to a universally condemned lunatic and jealous woman. My personal social media accounts were overrun, my direct messages filled with filthy insults. Outside the military command building, angry netizens and supporters of Emily blocked the gates. Arthur shielded Emily as they walked toward a military vehicle, surrounded by an anti-riot squad. I carried a cardboard box containing my personal belongings, following alone behind them. Someone recognized me. A shout triggered a commotion. A plastic water bottle struck my forehead hard, followed by a shower of rotten cabbage leaves and eggs. In the shoving, I fell on the steps, my palm pressing into shattered glass. It was a broken picture frame. These hands of mine, used to holding a scalpel, were instantly covered in blood. Sitting inside the armored vehicle, Arthur saw this scene through the dark tinted windows, his heart suddenly feeling like it was tightly squeezed. “Arthur, I’m scared.” Emily trembled, shrinking into his embrace. “Those people are terrifying. Will Chloe be okay?” Arthur withdrew his gaze, suppressing the inexplicable twinge of pain in his heart, and said coldly: “Drive. It’s good for her to learn a lesson, so she knows her place in the future.” The car sped away, leaving a cloud of dust. I watched the familiar olive-green SUV disappear around the corner, feeling no anger, not even pain. I slowly stood up, brushing the dirt from my clothes. The blood from my forehead ran into my eye, bathing the world in a sea of red. I pulled out my phone, glanced at the issued e-ticket, and then looked at the divorce agreement in my hand, already signed and finalized. I flagged down a taxi, my voice hoarse but calm: “Driver, to the airport.” Chapter 5 It wasn’t until late the next afternoon that Arthur realized Chloe was missing. The aftermath of the victory banquet had escalated far beyond his expectations. Although public opinion online was controlled, an internal military investigation had been launched. He used his connections to suppress the initial inquiry into Emily’s paper, the price being a promise that Chloe would “quietly recuperate” and cause no further trouble. He thought this was just another cold war, that Chloe would eventually digest her grievances in silence and return to him, just like before. He drove to the guest house. The room was excessively tidy. Her military uniform lay flat on the bed, the arm patch placed squarely on top, like a silent farewell. No note, no text message. He called her phone; it was turned off. An unfamiliar panic gripped him. He drove to the military hospital; the nurses told him Dr. Miller had discharged herself at noon yesterday. He contacted her possible comrades and friends; no one had any news. Finally, he had no choice but to use his clearance to check transportation records. He found a record of a taxi ride from the city to the airport yesterday evening, along with blurry security footage from the airport. She was wearing an unfamiliar jacket, a wound on her forehead, her back resolute as she walked toward the international departures channel. “Investigate! Find out where she went! Which flight she took!” He roared into the phone, his temples throbbing. The results arrived in the evening: Chloe had taken Turkish Airlines Flight TK21, transferring through Istanbul, with her final destination being a war-torn border city in northern Syria. Travel records showed she had left the country as a “member of a Doctors Without Borders medical rescue organization.” Arthur gripped the thin sheet of printer paper, his knuckles turning white. He remembered vaguely hearing that she was contacting international rescue teams, but at the time, he thought she was just acting out of spite. He never imagined she would actually leave, let alone go to a place like that. “Arthur, don’t worry too much.” Emily had appeared in his office at some point, holding a cup of hot tea, her voice soft. “Chloe is probably just in a bad mood and went out to clear her head. With that kind of rescue team, she’ll probably suffer for a few days and come back on her own.” Arthur didn’t take the tea. Staring at those distant, dangerous coordinates on the paper, his heart felt like it was being squeezed tightly by an invisible hand, a dull ache making it impossible to breathe. Clear her head? Going to a place ripped apart by artillery fire to clear her head? That was absolutely not something Chloe would do, unless… she truly had no intention of coming back. “About the paper, the investigation team…” Emily probed, a hint of unease in her eyes. “It’s been suppressed for now.” Arthur’s voice was hoarse, carrying an exhaustion he didn’t even realize. “Keep a low profile for the next few days. Don’t provoke her anymore… don’t draw any attention.” Emily nodded obediently, placing the teacup on the desk, her fingers seemingly accidentally brushing against the back of his hand: “I know. It’s all my fault for dragging you and Chloe down. When she comes back, I will definitely apologize to her properly…” Come back? Arthur jerked his hand away, a sudden surge of irritability making his tone harsh: “Go back. I have things to do.” Emily’s eyes reddened. She bit her lip aggrievedly, turned, and left. The office returned to silence. Arthur walked to the window. Outside was the familiar scenery of the camp—the sound of drills, marching footsteps, everything as usual. Yet he felt as if a massive void had opened up somewhere. That base housing apartment—the one that always had a small light on waiting for him, where even if he returned covered in the smell of gunpowder, she would silently hand him a cup of warm water—would there never be anyone there again? He thought of her pale face lying in the hospital bed, the resolute look in her eyes when she drank the strong liquor at the banquet, her indifferent expression when she was knocked to the ground… He used to think she was resilient, understanding, even a bit submissive. But now, stringing those images together pieced together a Chloe he had never truly known. A Chloe who, after her heart had died, quietly detached herself from everything, too lazy to even offer hatred. “Chloe…” he murmured the name, his Adam’s apple bobbing violently. A delayed, immense panic, mixed with sharp, piercing pain, finally penetrated the heart he had kept wrapped in discipline and duty for years, surging forth relentlessly.

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