Category: English

The free bread at the back of the campus cafeteria had become my primary food group. On my phone screen, a photo from my parents’ Instagram feed stung worse than the hunger in my gut. It was a platter of oysters and Alaskan king crab, glistening under the warm lights of a high-end bistro. They always claimed they were sending me three thousand dollars a month for “living expenses,” but the balance on my debit card had never crested a hundred. When the registrar’s office sent me a final notice for my tuition, I finally found the courage to call home. “I already transferred that money!” My mother’s voice was a jagged blade, slicing through the receiver. “You probably blew it all on some mindless trend, and now you have the nerve to ask for more?” My knuckles were white as I gripped the phone, my voice trembling. “Mom, I swear, I haven’t spent a dime on anything but food. The money just… it never hit the account.” “Bullshit! I have the transfer confirmation right here on my phone!” she shrieked. “Not only are you a spendthrift, but you’re a liar too. It’s time you learned a lesson.” That afternoon, I received a text notification from the bank. My account had been frozen. … I was just pouring the lukewarm cafeteria bread over a bowl of plain white rice when I saw the update. Another “family” dinner. The table was a graveyard of expensive shells. My mother was smiling, carefully de-shelling a lobster claw and placing it onto my cousin’s plate. My father had his arm around him, flashing a peace sign for the camera. That single meal cost more than my entire year’s grocery budget. The caption read: Dinner with the kid. He’s growing into such a thoughtful young man. We couldn’t be prouder! If you didn’t know any better, you’d think they were a perfect nuclear family of three. I stared at the rice. The bread had cooled, and the grains were hard and clumpy, but I didn’t care. I tilted the bowl and forced it down. My stomach, shriveled from days of neglect, cramped instantly. I doubled over, gasping, and my hand slipped. The bowl shattered on the floor, the remnants of my sad meal splattering across the linoleum. By the time the cramps subsided, the cafeteria staff had already started the midday cleaning. The food was gone. I thought about my empty bank account and felt a surge of desperation. I closed my eyes, reached down, and gathered the relatively clean clumps of rice from the table with my bare hands, swallowing them dry. “Noah? What are you doing?” I froze. It was my roommate. My face went hot, a deep, burning crimson. I couldn’t blame him for being shocked. On move-in day, my parents had pulled up in a top-trim Range Rover. My mother was draped in designer silk, a Rolex Submariner gleaming on her wrist. Everyone on floor four assumed I was a trust-fund kid. Nobody would believe that my monthly allowance was barely enough to cover a pack of gum. By the end of the month, I was a ghost haunting the free-bread station. Before I could manufacture a lie, my phone vibrated. It was my mother. I hit ‘accept,’ and her voice came through, uncharacteristically bright. “Noah, honey, I just put this month’s three thousand into your account. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?” I didn’t say anything. I opened my banking app. Balance: $30.58. Still two digits. It was always two digits. I thought of the lobster. I thought of the way she looked at my cousin. I took a breath, trying to keep the bile down. “Mom? Can I be honest with you?” She chuckled, sounding like she was in a great mood. “Of course. When has your mother ever lied to you?” “Could you… could you maybe send a little extra? Or send it differently? It’s just… it’s been really tight this month.” Silence. It stretched so long I could hear my own pulse drumming in my ears. I dug my nails into my palm, already regretting the words. Then, the snap. “Is three thousand not enough for you? What are you doing, Noah? Are you out there running with a bad crowd? Drugs? Gambing?” “Mom, no—I’m telling you, I only see thirty dollars in the account. Every month. I’m living on free soup. I can’t keep doing this.” My voice broke. “I don’t even need much. Just five hundred. Just Venmo it to me directly. Don’t go through the bank.” The sound of a glass shattering echoed through the phone. Then came the explosion. “Noah! How dare you lie to my face? I transfer that money like clockwork every month! You’re ungrateful, you’re greedy, and you’re a liar! I sent you to school to get an education, not to live like a king. If this is who you’ve become, you don’t belong at that university!” The line went dead. I stood there, paralyzed. My roommate was staring at me, his expression a mix of pity and confusion. I didn’t say a word. I just looked down, finished the last of the rice, and walked out. It was a sick joke. My roommates lived on eight hundred a month and ate like royalty. I was supposedly “getting” three thousand, yet I was survives on thirty. I’d been living this lie for two years, surviving on grueling side gigs and sheer willpower. The next morning, the hunger finally won. A sharp, white-hot pain bloomed in my stomach, coiling me into a ball on my mattress. I forced myself up. I had a shift at the dining hall—the only perk was a free breakfast. Three breakfast burritos. That was my fuel for the next twenty-four hours. I swallowed an old antacid and hurried to work. But the pain wouldn’t quit. Halfway through the breakfast rush, the world turned grey and tilted on its axis. I woke up in the infirmary. The nurse had placed a warm compress on my stomach, but my first instinct wasn’t relief. It was panic. I grabbed my phone and checked the app. Balance: $30.58. I couldn’t even afford the co-pay. With no other choice, I called home again. “Mom, please. I’m in the campus clinic. I passed out. I need money for the medical bill…” “If you’re broke, stay healthy!” she screamed before I could even finish. “I gave you three thousand yesterday! One day, Noah! It’s been one day and you’ve blown it all? You’re a disgrace!” I hadn’t realized I’d bumped the speakerphone button. Her voice rang through the quiet infirmary like a siren. My skin burned with shame. I saw the nurse look away, pretending to be busy with a chart. Something inside me finally snapped. “Enough! You keep saying three thousand! But look at my statement! It’s thirty dollars! Thirty! Do you have any idea what these two years have been like? I’m delivering food until 3 AM on a rented bike. I’ve worked through fevers because I couldn’t afford a bottle of Tylenol. You put the money in and then you take it back—who are you doing this for? Who are you trying to impress?” There was a pause. Then her voice sharpened into a lethal point. “Are you accusing us? We work ourselves to the bone to provide for you, and you turn around and blame us for your own incompetence? If the money is gone, you lost it. You deserve to struggle.” My father’s voice drifted in the background. “Noah, son, don’t worry. I’ll send more later…” “Send what?” my mother cut him off. “He’s a boy. Why does he need so much cash? He’ll just get into trouble. Our reputation can’t handle a delinquent son. We survived on pennies when we were in college. He’s just spoiled. A spoiled brat.” I stared at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears from spilling. I failed. In the end, I had to beg my supervisor at the dining hall for an advance to pay the clinic. By the time I left, the delivery app on my phone chimed. My second job was starting. I took a deep breath and ran to the electric bike rental station. It was five dollars an hour. I usually booked two hours and rode like a madman to hit the bonuses. The orders were slow today, but one popped up—a long haul, way outside the campus bubble. A thirty-minute ride for an eight-dollar payout. I took it. At a red light, a matte-black sports car pulled up beside me. The engine purred with the kind of expensive precision that made my teeth ache. I glanced over. The guy in the driver’s seat looked familiar. It was Tyler, my cousin. He was on a hands-free call, grinning, a heavy gold watch catching the afternoon sun. “Thanks, Aunt Diane! Yeah, I just picked it up. The handling is incredible. It’s like driving a cloud.” He glanced my way, his eyes skimming over my sweat-soaked delivery vest and the beat-up thermal bag on my back. His gaze paused for a microsecond. Then he looked right through me. Like I was part of the scenery. The light turned green, and he roared away. I sat there, my hands frozen on the handlebars. Tyler was my father’s nephew. He wasn’t even related to my mother, yet she’d bought him a supercar. And I, her own son, had just woken up in a clinic because I couldn’t afford a sandwich. The irony tasted like copper in my mouth. I reached the delivery address a minute late. The customer was a pregnant woman who snatched the bag and began complaining before I could even apologize. “What took so long? If my baby gets stressed because I’m hungry, that’s on you!” “I’m sorry, the traffic—” “Save it. You’re getting a one-star.” The door slammed. My phone buzzed. Delivery completed. Payout: $4.00. The app had docked half for the delay. I stared at the screen for a long time. Then I got back on the bike. On the ride back to campus, it started to drizzle. My vision blurred, a mix of rain and salt. I didn’t cry, though. I just twisted the throttle, letting the cold wind fill my lungs until the ache in my chest felt like it belonged to someone else. At 9:00 PM, I crawled back to the dorm. After showering, I counted my earnings. After the clinic debt, I had $42.58. Total net worth. At least I wasn’t in the red. My phone buzzed again. A private message from my advisor. Noah, your tuition is significantly past due. Is everything okay? Tuition? My stomach dropped. My mother had “paid” it before the semester started. I’d watched her click through the portal. Had she canceled the payment? Or was it another lie? I spent the weekend on a bus back to my hometown. I needed answers. When I reached the front door of our suburban estate, my thumb wouldn’t work on the biometric lock. They’d changed the settings. I was about to ring the bell when the door opened. It was Tyler. He saw me and let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Hey, little cousin. Why didn’t you call? It’s family dinner night. We didn’t really set a place for you.” “Noah? You have the nerve to show up here?” My mother’s voice barked from the foyer. Tyler turned back to her, his voice dripping with fake concern. “Aunt Diane, I know Noah’s been irresponsible with money, but he’s still family. I’ve heard about college kids getting into deep water—gambling debts, shady loans. He’s probably just in over his head.” The bait was set. My mother took it instantly. “I cannot believe I raised such a failure!” she screamed, lunging toward me. “Getting into debt, hanging out in the gutter, and then crawling back here for a handout? Get out!” She raised her hand to strike me. Even knowing she didn’t love me, the fact that she believed a cousin’s gossip over her own son felt like a physical weight in my chest. “I’m not here for a handout,” I said, my voice cold. “I’m here to ask why my tuition hasn’t been paid.” She froze. Then, the vitriol returned. “Don’t you dare play that game! On top of the three thousand a month, I’ve sent you money for clothes, holiday bonuses—nearly ten thousand dollars this year alone! You gambled it away, didn’t you? And now you’re trying to steal your own tuition?” I clutched my bag, staring her down. “You say you sent the money. Where is it?” “My account shows thirty dollars every month. I’m at the top of the ‘failure to pay’ list at the registrar. Is that your idea of providing?” I pulled up the email from the school and held it in her face. “You say you gave me the money? Prove it. Let’s look at the ledger. Right now.” My mother opened her mouth to snap back, but my father, who had been quiet on the sofa, suddenly stood up. His face was a mask of stern authority. “Noah, that’s enough. Is this the thanks we get? You come into this house and scream at your mother? Where is your respect?” I looked at him, my eyes burning. “Respect? She’s lying to my face, Dad! She says she’s sending thousands, but I’m starving!” “Lying?” My mother slammed her hand on the side table. “You want proof? Fine. Let’s look at the receipts, you ungrateful brat. Let’s see exactly how much of a liar you are.” She pulled out her phone and pulled up her banking app. She shoved the screen an inch from my nose. I stared. I didn’t want to miss a single digit. My heart stopped. The records were there. Every single one. The first of every month: Transfer to Noah – $3,000. Status: Success. But… that was impossible. “I don’t understand…” I whispered. The transfers were real. The system showed the money leaving her account and entering mine. Every ‘birthday gift,’ every ‘clothing allowance’—it was all there, marked as completed transactions. But my balance had never changed. It was as if the money hit my account and then simply evaporated into thin air. Before I could wrap my head around the glitch, my mother’s voice turned low and dangerous. “Get on your knees.” Before I could react, she kicked the back of my calf. The pain sent me stumbling down. Then, a sharp, stinging slap across my face. I was kneeling on the porch of our million-dollar home in full view of the neighbors. “I have tried everything to raise you right,” she shouted, her voice booming so the whole street could hear. “But you are a liar and a thief. You spent your tuition on god-knows-what, and then you came here to gasprint your own mother? Everyone, look! This is what an ungrateful son looks like!” She grabbed a decorative broom from the foyer and began striking my back. A small crowd of neighbors began to gather. “Isn’t that Diane’s son? What happened?” “Spent all his tuition money, apparently. Then tried to extort her for more.” “What a shame. Diane works so hard. Some kids are just born rotten.” The crowd murmured their approval of my “discipline.” My mother’s chin lifted. She loved an audience. She loved being the righteous martyr. She hit me harder. My father stepped out, his voice a faux-whisper of sympathy. “Noah, just apologize. It breaks my heart to see you like this. Just admit you spent the money and say you’re sorry.” I looked at him. Truly looked at him. And in that moment, a jagged piece of memory slotted into place. I started to laugh. It was a cold, jagged sound that stopped my mother’s hand mid-swing. “I know,” I said, my voice echoing in the sudden silence. “I know exactly where the money went.”

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The chime of the system echoed in the hollows of my skull just as I reached the center of the living room. Only ten minutes ago, my younger sister had been sobbing in my arms, her face a mask of fragile beauty as she begged for reassurance that I wouldn’t abandon her once I was married. Now, Gilbert, my fiancé—the man who hadn’t uttered a word in the seven years I’d known him—was using his hands to shatter my world. His fingers moved with clinical precision. Your sister is pregnant. Then, the follow-up, a jagged blade of a sentence: The child is mine. I stood frozen, the air leaving my lungs in a slow, painful hiss. He reached into his pocket and produced a lab report, the DNA results confirming the biological link between him and the fetus. We did it many times while you were at work, his signs were sharp, colored with a mockery he no longer bothered to hide. We tried every position to make sure she conceived. He paused, a cruel glint in his eyes. Remember when she got sick at dinner last week? You were so sweet, rubbing her stomach to settle her nausea. You had no idea you were touching my child. He continued, his movements fluid and cold. The hospital confirmed it today. Three months. She’s fragile, Jolie. She knew the risks to her heart, but she insisted on carrying my baby anyway. He let out a silent, huffing laugh. It’s your fault, really. You didn’t watch her closely enough. Then, the killing blow: So, whether that baby lives or dies depends on just how heartless you want to be as a sister. My heart felt as though a cold, invisible hand had squeezed it until the valves began to pop. The pain was so acute I could barely breathe. They would never know. They would never understand that the “Redemption Mission” I had accepted seven years ago was meant for both of them. I was their savior, and they were my assignment. I took a shuddering breath and spoke into the silence of my mind. I’m done. Abort the mission. I choose to terminate and return home. … [Warning: Once the mission is abandoned, the world-line will revert to its original trajectory. The final fates of the target characters will be irreversible. Does the Host confirm?] Confirm. [Extraction sequence initiated. T-minus 72 hours until biological shutdown.] As the mechanical voice faded, a tidal wave of agony washed over my nervous system. I looked at the man standing before me, my throat so dry it felt like it was lined with glass. “Why?” I managed to choke out. Gilbert looked at my reddened eyes. There wasn’t a flicker of guilt on his face—only a terrifying, flat calm. He walked over to the master bedroom closet and yanked out my wedding dress. The one I had spent months designing. My eyes snagged on the fabric. There were stiff, yellowish stains across the delicate lace of the bodice. I had sewn every bead onto that dress. Every stitch had been a prayer for our future. You were always working late, his hands signed, nonchalant. You left Maisie and me alone in this house. Fire was inevitable. Our bodies fit together in a way yours never did. He took his time, savoring the destruction. Maisie is young. She’s… adventurous. She would cry and say she was sorry to her big sister, but then she would wrap herself around me and wouldn’t let go. We did it on this dress, Jolie. Over and over again. I stared at him. The face was the same one I had loved for nearly a decade, but I couldn’t recognize the soul behind it anymore. I’ve told you everything now, Gilbert continued. You’re her sister. You’re my fiancée. You’re supposed to be the “big” person here. You should accept us. He seemed certain I would bow my head. He expected me to cave, just as I had a thousand times before. After all, our wedding—the day we had supposedly dreamed of for seven years—was only two weeks away. I swallowed the metallic taste of blood rising in my throat and looked him dead in the eye. “The wedding is off.” I said it clearly. No tremor. No hesitation. Gilbert’s expression darkened instantly. The invitations are out, he signed aggressively. Don’t start acting like a martyr now. Maisie is carrying my child. We’re a family. The three of us. Family. The word felt like a joke. When I first arrived in this world, the system told me the predetermined ending if I failed. Once I left, the erasure protocol would trigger within three days. Without my “redemption,” Gilbert would spiral back into his dark, obsessive psychosis and eventually be butchered in an alley by the creditors he owed. Maisie, deprived of the expensive care I provided, would suffer a fatal heart failure. Seven years. I had exhausted every system point, nearly traded my own life to pull these two out of the abyss and into the light. The progress bar was at 99%. I was one step away. After the wedding, they would have been “saved,” and I would have earned a lifetime of peace. And yet, they chose this moment to gut me. “Why now?” I gritted my teeth. “Why wait until now to tell me?” Gilbert’s face remained a mask of indifference. Maisie’s bump is starting to show. She needs status. Besides… He paused, his hands slowing down. Who else is going to want a woman who can’t even get pregnant? The truth hit me like a physical blow. He let out a sharp, mocking breath. You’re the one who forced your way into my life, Jolie. You don’t get to decide when it ends. You don’t have the right. I looked at the face I had adored and felt nothing but a profound, sickening sense of the absurd. Memories flashed like a strobe light. The first time I met Gilbert—he was a shut-in, drowning in silence and trauma. I spent nights learning ASL, endured the whispers and the laughter of his peers just to stay by his side. I was the one who reached into the mud and pulled him out. Then there was Maisie. Our parents, dying in the wreckage of a car crash, had pressed her into my arms with their final breaths. They begged me to save her—the sister with the failing heart. I had spent countless nights carrying her into ERs, signing consent form after consent form, dragging her back from the brink of death. Back then, Gilbert filled sketchbooks with thousands of portraits of me. He signed oaths that I was his only salvation. Maisie used to wait up for me until midnight, her thin, fragile frame making my heart ache with a protective ferocity. I had loved them more than my own life. To fund his galleries, to buy her imported heart medication, I had worked myself into the ground. I had worked through stomach hemorrhages; I had pushed myself so hard the doctors told me my body was too stressed to ever carry a child. I didn’t care. Not then. But I never imagined the people I saved would be the ones to push me off the cliff. It was almost poetic. They had spent seven years sharpening the blade, waiting for the perfect moment to slide it between my ribs. “Gilbert, you disgust me.” My eyes were raw, but my gaze was steady. For a second, he flinched at the sheer finality in my look. I disgust you? His brow furrowed, looking at me like a temperamental child. If you had just been obedient, we could have gone on like always. He pulled his phone from his pocket and swiped through a few photos before shoving the screen in my face. They were private photos. Intimate. Explicit. Photos of me taken while I was sleeping or in moments I thought were private. He scrolled, a cruel curve touching his lips. Think about how the board at your firm would react if they saw these. What would the world think of the “Saintly Jolie” then? “Give me that!” I lunged for the phone, my heart hammering. I gave you a chance, Jolie. You pushed me. Before I could reach him, his thumb tapped the screen. The whoosh of an outgoing message echoed in the silent room. Then, my own phone began to explode. Notifications, group chat pings, DMs—a digital wildfire. Gilbert looked down at me from his height. Now that your career is dead, what else can you do but marry me? Be a good girl. Close the deal. And maybe at night, you can listen through the walls to how a real woman sounds. Seven years of blood, sweat, and tears—my entire career, my reputation—gone in a single click. I collapsed onto the hardwood floor, a high-pitched ringing in my ears. “Gilbert… everything I did… the career, the money… it was all for you.” He turned his back on me, his fingers moving one last time. That was your choice. Nobody told you to be a martyr. He locked the door from the outside, leaving me in the dark. The silence was absolute. A dull, heavy throb began in my chest. I could feel my life force—the “Host energy”—slowly leaking out of my pores. Three days. Just a few more dozen hours, and I’d be back in my own world. I sat there on the floor all night. When the gray morning light finally bled through the curtains, the door clicked open. Maisie walked in. She looked pale, her beauty delicate and ethereal. She shot a timid look at Gilbert in the hallway before dropping to her knees in front of me. “Jolie, please… don’t be mad at Gilbert.” Her eyes went red instantly, tears spilling down her cheeks like perfect pearls. “It’s my fault. All of it. You’ve always taken care of me, you’ve always loved me most. Please, just forgive me this one time.” She reached out with a thin, trembling hand to touch my sleeve. I recoiled, pulling away from her touch. Her hand froze in mid-air. She didn’t look embarrassed, only deeply, performatively sad. “I’m so sick, Jolie. And I was so lonely.” As I looked at her “innocent” face, I saw my parents’ dying eyes. I saw her hooked up to an oxygen mask, begging me not to leave her. I had sworn at their graves that I would protect her from everything. I didn’t realize I was the one she needed protecting from. I watched her performance in icy silence. My lack of reaction started to crack her mask. She looked up, and for a second, the spite leaked through. “Why can’t you just share, Jolie? You have everything. A healthy body, a glittering career… everyone loves you. But look at me! I’m broken! I can’t even run or jump like a normal person!” Her voice rose, her thin frame shaking. “I just wanted a piece of warmth for myself! Is that so wrong? You can still be his wife. I just want to be with you both. Why do you have to be so dramatic?” She was using “love” as a weapon to justify the theft of my life. She honestly believed my “intolerance” was the problem. I stood up, refusing to look at her for another second. “Maisie, you’re both pathetic. And you’re both filthy.” The words hit her like a slap. Her eyes widened, and her face suddenly turned a terrifying shade of purple. She began to gasp, her hands clawing at her chest. “Jolie… why… it hurts… Gilbert! Help me!” Gilbert burst into the room, lunging past me to catch her before she hit the floor. A sound broke from his throat—a strangled, guttural sob. The man who was mute by choice was finally making noise, and it was for her. He held her against his chest, his eyes filled with a terrifying, overflowing agony. He looked at me, his hand signing with a violent, jagged speed. Did you have to push her? She’s your sister! How can you be so cold? For a split second, my muscle memory took over. I moved to grab her emergency medication from the nightstand. But I stopped. The sister I had sacrificed everything for was cradled in the arms of the man I was supposed to marry. The absurdity of it finally broke me. I stood there, paralyzed, as the sirens of an ambulance began to wail in the distance, cutting through the quiet morning. At the hospital, the ER doctor handed over a critical notice. Acute heart failure brought on by severe emotional stress. She needed an immediate transfusion and stabilization, or she wouldn’t last the night. The hospital’s blood bank was low on her rare type. We were sisters. We shared the same blood. In the past, I had considered that bond my greatest blessing. Gilbert grabbed my wrist, dragging me toward the donation room. Give her your blood. Save her. His grip was like iron. It’s your responsibility. You’re her sister. You can’t just watch her die. The nurse approached with a thick needle. I fought them, kicking and screaming, trying to wrench my arm free. “Let me go! Don’t touch me!” But Gilbert stepped closer, pinning my shoulders down against the chair. He was incredibly strong, and he used his weight to crush me into the seat until I couldn’t move. The needle slid into my vein. My struggle only resulted in a smear of red across the vinyl. My warm blood began to flow through the tube, destined for Maisie. As the bags filled, the world began to dim. The room spun. And then, a sharp, white-hot cramp bloomed deep in my abdomen. It felt like a hand was inside me, tearing at my insides. I went pale, cold sweat soaking my hair. The nurse noticed something was wrong and stopped the flow, calling for a doctor. After a series of frantic tests, the doctor looked at me with profound pity. “Ms. Harold, you were nearly two months pregnant.” My brain went numb. “You were already severely dehydrated and exhausted. The stress and the forced blood draw… it triggered a miscarriage. I’m so sorry. We couldn’t save the pregnancy.” The words were a thunderclap. I stared at the ceiling, a single, hot tear tracking down my temple. I was pregnant. The one thing I thought was impossible had happened quietly, a tiny miracle growing in the middle of a nightmare. And before I even knew he existed, he had been sacrificed to save his aunt. His own father had held me down while they drained the life out of us both. I don’t remember the surgery. Afterward, I stood by the window of my hospital room, barefoot on the cold floor. The wind blew through the open pane, tossing my hair, but my mind had never been clearer. My heart was gone. It had been shredded along with that tiny life. The door opened. Gilbert pushed Maisie in a wheelchair. With my blood in her veins, her color had returned. She looked refreshed. “Jolie, don’t be too sad,” Maisie said, her voice a sugary silk. “Some things just aren’t meant to be. You couldn’t keep him… maybe he just didn’t belong to you. But it’s okay! My baby is strong. I can have this child for all of us.” She reached out to pat my hand with her faux-sympathy. I jerked away, my skin crawling. Gilbert watched my cold reaction and let out a long, weary sigh. You can’t blame Maisie for this, he signed. Your body was always too weak to carry a child. It happened. Now, just focus on being an aunt to Maisie’s baby. We can still be— “Gilbert, you are a monster.” Every drop of blood in me felt like ice. “You think I’m going to help you raise your mistake? You think that can replace what you just killed?” The last of his patience snapped. He stepped forward, grabbing my jaw, forcing me to look into his dark, violent eyes. A bunch of cells? You’re going to mourn that? You couldn’t even satisfy me in bed, Jolie. You think you’d be a good mother? Maisie is giving you a gift by letting you be part of this. Be grateful. Seven years of soul-crushing “redemption.” Seven years of guarding their lives with my own. It ended in a hospital room with a man’s hand on my throat and my sister’s smile. I didn’t have the strength to argue anymore. The anger evaporated, leaving only a hollow, black void. I didn’t owe them a single breath. The system’s voice chimed one last time. [Detection: Host Despair Level at 100%. Extraction sequence finalized. Protocol: Immediate.] I stepped onto the windowsill. I looked back one last time at the two of them, their faces finally shifting from arrogance to a sudden, piercing terror. They lunged for me, screaming my name. I closed my eyes and let myself fall backward into the light.

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When we were taking photos in the snow, my boyfriend suddenly gave me a shoulder throw just to make his high school crush smile. “Just a joke! Look at your silly face, haha!” That day, his crush gave her most beautiful smile, while I broke my right arm and could never hold a scalpel again. Later, he was diagnosed with a rare disease, and the only doctor in the country who could perform the necessary surgery was me. The moment he threw me over his shoulder to please his crush, he threw his own life away. 01 It rarely snowed heavily in Seattle. After lunch, a few colleagues and I were strolling around the hospital grounds when we bumped into Audrey Miller taking photos of the snow. Back in medical school, she was famously known as the “Ice Queen”—her personality even colder than the surgical scalpels she wielded. She had never smiled. She was the goddess of many underclassmen and upperclassmen alike. “Dr. Miller!” A male colleague called out to her, handing her a coffee to warm her hands. “It’s freezing out here. Why are you all by yourself?” “Thanks, I don’t like crowds.” Audrey turned away indifferently, her pale skin looking as if it had been dusted with a thin layer of frost in the sunlight. Everyone wanted to take a group photo under a tree, so I pulled out my phone to act as the photographer. Bending over to find the right angle and distance, I counted down with my fingers: “Three, two…” On the last second of the countdown, a rush of wind swept past my ear. My boyfriend, Noah Davis, appeared out of nowhere. Laughing loudly, he hoisted me up while I was bent over and brutally slammed me down with a shoulder throw, right shoulder first! Thud! “Look at your silly face, hahaha!” I sank deep into the snow. The impact against the tree trunk hidden beneath the snow caused the branches to tremble slightly, sending a flurry of snowflakes drifting down like a fairy tale. For the first time ever, Audrey broke into a radiant smile, stunning everyone. 02 Why did Noah do this to me? Did he deliberately humiliate me just to coax a smile out of Audrey? What did I do wrong? My brain was completely blank for a few seconds. By the time the feelings of grievance and anger surged up, I realized my entire right shoulder was numb. I had completely lost feeling in my right arm, and when I tried to speak, only a sob came out. “Help…” “Wow, Audrey, this photo of you is so beautiful! I’ve known you for seven years and this is the first time I’ve seen you smile!” Noah had snatched my phone and was enthusiastically showing the photo to everyone like he was presenting a treasure. “Yeah, Dr. Miller, you really should smile more. You’re so beautiful!” “Noah, hurry up and help your girlfriend up. How could you do that?” Noah laughed, saying it was fine, and crouched down to dig me out of the snow. “Chloe’s a prankster offline too. We’re always messing with each other like bros. She’s fine…” His words came to a screeching halt when he met my dull, lifeless eyes. Digging further, he saw my unnaturally twisted right arm and immediately panicked. 03 “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Chloe! I was just joking with you…” My right shoulder had been pierced by a tree root, bleeding profusely. I was rushed into the ER. The Chief of Surgery and the Vice President of the hospital, who had just gotten off a grueling shift, both turned pale when they saw me and hurried in one after another to assist in the emergency operation. Noah gripped my left hand tightly, the corners of his eyes red. He wiped the snowflakes off my face over and over again, trembling uncontrollably in a panic. He was stopped outside the operating room. In the last second before the doors closed, I looked at him calmly and said one word: “Get lost.” 04 When I woke up in my hospital room, Audrey was asking the nurse about my medication from the previous night. The room was filled with a cloying scent. The sickly sweet smell of her floral essential oil even overpowered the smell of disinfectant. Next to my pillow was Audrey’s phone, the screen still illuminated. She had posted that group snow photo on her Instagram. Noah was the first to like and comment: [You really should smile more. You look beautiful when you smile.] I stared blankly for a few seconds. My gaze then fell on the medical chart next to the phone. Whether out of carelessness or malice, my chart had been casually tossed there by Audrey. I’m a surgeon too; I understand what the chart says. My right hand would never be able to hold a scalpel again. 05 The sound of pages turning was exceptionally loud. Audrey glanced back at me, coldly snatched the chart away, and didn’t say a word. Even though we went to the same med school and now worked in the same hospital, we weren’t close. Audrey rarely talked to men, and she completely ignored women. We had nothing to say to each other. “Is Chloe awake? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Noah’s voice shattered the silence of the hospital room. He had just come off an all-night surgery. His handsome face was covered in sweat. His tall frame cautiously approached the bed, and he grasped my hand through the blanket. “I really just wanted to joke around with you. I’m sorry, Chloe.” “I’ve already called your mom and dad. Don’t worry!” “…You just have a fracture. We’ll do a minor surgery in a few days. Our Chief of Surgery will operate personally, and I’ll be there too. Your right hand will definitely recover!” Noah’s voice trembled at the end. Like a lost, helpless child, he kept his head down, stroking my fingers over and over again. Seeing that I wasn’t speaking, he gave a stiff smile and tremblingly pulled a velvet box from his pocket. “Oh right, look at my memory! Actually, yesterday, I wanted to propose to you.” 06 I hadn’t noticed when Audrey slipped out of the room. Noah’s eyes were burning with intensity, looking at me with deep affection: “Seattle has never seen such beautiful snow. I wanted to take advantage of it to propose to you… I wanted to make you mad first and then surprise you. You know, like the videos online. I really was just joking! I’m an idiot, I’m so stupid, I promise there won’t be a next time!” But inside the box was a very ordinary ring, showing no signs of careful preparation. Did he expect me to believe him? Noah grabbed my numb right hand: “Marry me, Chloe.” The silence in the room was terrifying. It felt like I could hear every single drop of IV fluid falling into the chamber. Suddenly, I laughed. Noah visibly let out a sigh of relief. He eagerly pressed his cheek into my palm, nuzzling it like a puppy trying to act cute and seek forgiveness. “Look at your silly face.” I used my uninjured left hand to grab his hair, my eyes turning icy cold: “You’re still thinking about proposing at a time like this? Go to the police station and make a statement first. You’ve committed assault.” “You made me angry just to propose? Stop making excuses for your mistakes. At that moment, you only wanted to humiliate me to make your goddess smile. Do you think I’m stupid?” “Furthermore, the people you should be apologizing to the most are my patients. They waited so long for a chance to have surgery. The highly specialized procedure they need can only be performed by me and our 96-year-old retired professor in the entire country. Now that my hand is ruined, who’s going to help them?” 07 Noah opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, so overwhelmed by guilt after his lie was exposed that he couldn’t speak. The quiet room was left to me alone. The water stains on the ceiling, caused by the melting snow, were slowly spreading, much like my own future—lost and without direction. I closed my eyes, and the hopeful faces of my patients quickly flashed through my mind. How was I going to explain this to them? “Noah, honestly, this isn’t your fault. No one can predict accidents. Chloe is just a young girl, she needs a bit more coaxing. She’ll be fine once she thinks it through.” Hearing the voice, my eyes snapped open. Audrey was standing outside my room, consoling Noah. “I guess this is why I don’t like getting close to anyone. I could never take my anger out on innocent people. Should you unconditionally blame your boyfriend just because he’s your boyfriend? I really look down on women who throw unreasonable tantrums like that.” I thought I was hallucinating. What kind of nonsense was Audrey spouting? Noah sighed heavily, his voice hoarse: “You’re right, Audrey. I understand what you mean. Regardless, I’ll take all the blame. I love her, and I can’t be as clear-headed and rational as you.” “You care about Chloe a lot too, don’t you? Staying here in the room to keep an eye on her. I thank you on her behalf. You should go back and get some rest.” Through the gaps in the blinds, I could vaguely see Audrey standing in front of Noah. Noah helplessly rubbed his face, and finally, with a reverent and gentle motion, he leaned against Audrey— “Thank you, Audrey.” … Expressionless, I picked up the phone: “Hello, 911? I was maliciously assaulted by a male colleague, and I suspect attempted murder!” 08 Noah and I met in college. If there was anything about him that won my heart, it was probably his sincerity—his ultimate weapon. He held nothing back with me and always took my side unconditionally, like a silly, clumsy puppy that loved wagging its tail at its owner. I didn’t have to question his true feelings; I just needed to slowly teach him how to love, how to navigate a relationship… But now, I no longer wanted to accompany a boy as he grew up. He could give his heart to me, but his soul would always lean toward that sacred, pure goddess. He made me sick. My parents rushed to the police station. After learning what happened, they strongly supported my decision. What kind of joke involves executing a flawless shoulder throw on your girlfriend without hesitation? He destroyed my future. And he had the audacity to blatantly lie to my parents afterward: He claimed I accidentally slipped in the hospital and injured my arm. 09 Faced with all my accusations, Noah didn’t say a single word in his defense and accepted whatever punishment was coming. In the end, it was the Hospital President and the Chief of Surgery who stepped forward to mediate, hoping the situation wouldn’t blow up. Noah would face an indefinite suspension, and lawyers would negotiate a financial settlement out of court, all to avoid jail time and protect the hospital’s reputation. Moreover, my 96-year-old mentor was hospitalized and in a coma, and no one wanted to agitate the old man with a massive scandal. An out-of-court settlement was fine. Noah had better get his money ready. The hospital quickly arranged for my surgery, telling me to focus solely on recovering my right hand and not to worry about anything else. But on my very first day hospitalized, a huge argument erupted at the nurses’ station over mandatory overtime. With two surgeons out of commission, all schedules and surgeries had to be reshuffled, drastically increasing everyone’s workload. Audrey, passing by during her rounds, stopped in front of the nurses’ station and said coldly: “Complaining won’t solve anything. You nurses are tired, but aren’t the doctors tired too?” “It was clearly just an accident. It’s Dr. Williams throwing a tantrum and escalating the situation that caused her boyfriend to be suspended. You can’t blame anyone else.” “Don’t mind me being blunt; I’m just telling the truth.” 10 The staff at the nurses’ station were stunned. Not having been at the scene, not knowing the full story, and hearing this from Audrey—the usually aloof “goddess” who hated gossip—made her words naturally convincing. Audrey turned to leave, but I quickly rushed up and grabbed her wrist— “Dr. Miller, if you have something to say, say it directly instead of making passive-aggressive remarks. What do you mean I escalated the situation?” “Let’s get this straight: I am the victim here! If it were any of you, and your boyfriend threw you for no reason, fracturing your arm so badly you could never hold a scalpel again, and then tried to pass it off as ‘just a joke’ or ‘an accident,’ wouldn’t you be angry? Wouldn’t you demand accountability? If not, you must be actual saints!” The nurses’ expressions shifted. I pulled up the group photo and placed my phone on the desk: “Dr. Miller was there when it happened. When Noah threw me, you smiled more radiantly than ever! What were you thinking? Were you really that happy?” Audrey swayed slightly, her teeth biting hard into her lower lip, the color draining from her face. Just as she was about to speak, a strong force suddenly pushed me away from behind. Noah stepped between us, shielding Audrey behind him. “Chloe, Audrey doesn’t understand these petty squabbles between women! Just drop it. Everything that happened is my fault.”

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As a single mother, to scrape together tuition for my daughter to study for her master’s degree in the UK, I worked three jobs a day. I even had an accident while working the night shift at a factory—the machine severed two of my right fingers. But the day she got her UK visa, she was at the airport clinging to a wealthy businessman twenty years her senior, crying and laughing. “Daddy, if you hadn’t sponsored me to go abroad, my trash-collecting mom would have ruined my whole life.” I stood behind a pillar in the departure hall, holding up my freshly bandaged hand that was still bleeding through the gauze, frozen in place. I stepped forward to call out to her, but her friend Isabella wrinkled her nose in disgust and shoved me away. “Where’d this old hag come from? Get lost before you dirty Laura’s designer clothes!” I looked at my daughter. She wore exquisite makeup, and her eyes held no trace of guilt—only an icy warning. In front of the rich man, she pulled out two hundred-pound notes from her purse and threw them in my face like she was dismissing a beggar. “Take the money and get lost. I only have a sugar daddy—I don’t have some bottom-feeder poor mom!” People around us pointed and whispered. The wealthy man patted her shoulder approvingly, praising how sensible she was. I didn’t pick up the money. I just calmly watched her go through security and board her flight. Then I turned around and dialed the embassy. “Hello, I’d like to file a formal report. Someone has falsified academic credentials and may be involved in illegal immigration.”

After hanging up with the embassy, I didn’t look back at the security checkpoint. I walked straight out of the departure hall. When the spring breeze hit me, I realized I was soaked through with sweat. The gauze on my right hand was saturated with blood, and fresh pain shot through the wound. In the emergency room, the doctor unwrapped the bandage, his brow furrowing tightly. “What happened? The fingers we just reattached have torn open again!” “Did you get into a struggle with someone? If you keep this up, this hand will be permanently damaged!” I was drenched in cold sweat from the pain, but I just shook my head. “Please, just wrap it tighter for me.” After getting my wound treated, I returned home and pushed open the rusted iron gate. The musty smell of the basement hit me in the face. The room was a complete mess. Before leaving, Laura had used scissors to shred all the old clothes she didn’t want, and thrown them everywhere along with old shoes. Looking at the chaos on the floor, waves of bitterness washed over me. To let her wear decent clothes like other children. I worked three jobs a day to earn living expenses, and even took night shifts at an unlicensed factory to pay for her tutoring. But she broke my heart and trampled my dignity. My eyes grew moist, but in the end, no tears fell. I pulled out a black garbage bag and swept the shredded fabric into it. I stuffed this garbage along with the designer bag I’d bought with money from my first blood donation into the bag. Then I carried these two black bags and mercilessly threw them into the dumpster outside the complex. Just as I finished throwing away the trash, my phone vibrated. It was a reply from the embassy: [Hello. Regarding your report about Ms. Laura’s suspected academic fraud and unclear visa funding sources, we have initiated a joint investigation with customs. Thank you for your cooperation.] Looking at the words on the screen, my lips gradually curved upward. Almost simultaneously, my phone rang. It was Laura. The moment I answered, Laura’s shriek came through: “You old bitch! Did you report me?! Why did customs detain me?! They said my visa has been frozen and they’re going to investigate Daddy’s financial records!” Hearing her voice crack as she screamed, I felt nothing but satisfaction. “Yes. You’re my daughter. I won’t let you sell your body!” “Are you insane?! I’m your daughter! You’re ruining my future! I’ll kill you—” Before she could finish cursing, I hung up and blocked her number. Back in the basement, I looked at the passbook on the table containing my work injury compensation and took a deep breath. This money was originally meant to be her living expenses abroad. Now, I would use it to move out of this basement and start my real life.

The next afternoon, the basement’s iron door was kicked open with a bang. Laura burst in with her suited sugar daddy. Her friend Isabella followed aggressively behind them. “Smack!” A visa rejection letter was thrown in my face by Laura. “You poisonous old witch! Are you satisfied now?! My visa’s been revoked! I’m banned from entering the UK for three years!” Laura pointed at my nose, her eyes bloodshot. “You’re bottom-feeding trash rotting in the mud—fine! But why do you have to drag me down with you!” Isabella beside her covered her nose, her face full of disgust as she fanned the flames. “Exactly! Laura accepted Mr. Osman as her daddy. She was going to become a real lady of status.” “You’re just jealous that Mr. Osman has more money than you, so you sabotaged her, didn’t you? You poverty-stricken lunatic!” Mr. Osman stood with his belly protruding, looking down at my room condescendingly. He pulled a stack of cash from his briefcase and threw it on the table. “Ten thousand pounds. Go to the UK embassy and withdraw your report. Tell them you were having a psychotic episode and talking nonsense.” Mr. Osman flicked ash from his cigar, his tone arrogant. “Women are so short-sighted. Your daughter will live the high life with me. You should be grateful.” I looked at the ten thousand pounds on the table and laughed coldly. “Mr. Osman is so generous.” Then I raised my head and stared at Laura. “She paid someone to take her exams for her.” “Mr. Osman, you don’t really think Laura’s a genius, do you?” “Are you sure she can bring you any value if she goes abroad?” Laura’s expression changed drastically. She screamed in humiliation and rage: “Shut up! Daddy, don’t listen to this crazy woman’s nonsense!” She looked around frantically, then suddenly spotted the passbook I’d placed under my pillow. It was my severed finger injury compensation! “What’s this?!” Laura’s eyes lit up. She pounced over and snatched the passbook. Opening it, her eyes went wide. “Three hundred thousand?! You’ve been hiding three hundred thousand from me!” She reached under the pillow and pulled out my ID card, viciously stuffing it into her own pocket. “Is the password my birthday? Even if you don’t tell me, I’ll figure it out!” My expression changed. I rushed forward to grab it back. “Give it back! That’s my severed finger compensation! That’s my lifeline!” “What do you mean YOUR money? You ruined my dream of going abroad—consider this compensation for my emotional distress!” Laura clutched the passbook and ID card, backing away self-righteously. I lunged and grabbed her wrist, but she yanked hard. My freshly bandaged right hand slammed heavily into the iron bed frame. The wound hadn’t healed at all yet. “Rip—” Sharp pain instantly spread from my fingertips. The gauze was stained red with blood, dripping onto the cement floor. I collapsed to my knees in pain, my whole body convulsing uncontrollably. “Oh please, are you trying to scam us?” Isabella rolled her eyes from the side. Osman snorted coldly and gave a look. His two bodyguards immediately stepped forward and roughly shoved me against the wall, escorting Laura out. “Mom, I’m taking this three hundred thousand.” “You can just rot in this moldy basement and fend for yourself!” Laura waved the passbook and ID card, linked arms with Osman, and strutted away in her high heels. I lay in my own blood, watching their retreating figures, biting my lip until I tasted blood. Laura, since you’re going to be so ruthless, don’t blame me for being merciless.

I endured the severe pain and shakily dialed the police with my left hand. The police arrived quickly, but when they learned that the person who’d stolen my belongings was my own biological daughter whom I’d carried for ten months, they showed helpless expressions. According to regulations, the police could only temporarily classify it as a domestic property dispute and needed further investigation before filing a case. The officer in charge saw me lying in a pool of blood looking pitiful. After taking my statement, he immediately took me to the relevant department. He helped me file emergency reports for a lost ID card and freeze the passbook. The three hundred thousand couldn’t be recovered immediately, but at least I’d secured the money in the account so Laura couldn’t squander it. By the time I returned to the basement after getting my wound re-stitched at the hospital, it was late at night. My right hand was wrapped in gauze, each throb accompanied by stabbing pain. Just then, my phone started vibrating crazily. Hundreds of abusive text messages from unknown numbers flooded my inbox. I opened a short video platform and found that on the homepage feed, Laura had posted a five-minute accusatory video. In the video, she wore fake no-makeup makeup, tears streaming down her face as she tearfully accused me of being an evil mother. She lied to the camera, claiming I’d tried to sell her for bride price money to pay gambling debts, even slandering that I’d deliberately self-harmed my severed fingers to extort money from her. She also played the victim, saying I was jealous she’d received sponsorship to study abroad, so I maliciously spread rumors to ruin her future. Oh my god, how can such an evil mother exist? Unfit to be human! Poor girl, what bad luck to have a mother like that. Support the daughter cutting ties! People like this should just die! The comment section was outraged. Even my former coworkers at the factory believed the lies and sent me messages cursing me out. You always seemed honest, but I never knew you were so vicious, harming your own daughter. Disgusting! Facing the online mob, I didn’t cry. I looked coldly at Laura’s face on the screen, methodically saving her defamatory video with my left hand. Then I took screenshots and screen recordings of all the vicious comments and personal attacks the video had attracted. Next, my gaze fell on the laptop in the corner. It was an old computer Laura had disdained as too outdated to take with her. Laura was careless. She thought emptying the recycle bin solved everything. But she didn’t know that as long as the hard drive wasn’t destroyed, data could be recovered. I spent the whole night using my left hand to control the mouse, using recovery software I’d found online to gradually excavate the secrets buried deep in this computer. When the progress bar reached one hundred percent and I opened the hidden billing statements and chat records that had been recovered, I broke out in a cold sweat, then laughed out loud in the basement. Mr. Osman’s several trading companies were all shells used as fronts for overseas fraud syndicates to launder money! The funds Laura had been dreaming about for going abroad all came from dirty accounts. Not only that, I also recovered several eye-burning videos. The protagonists of the videos were actually Osman and Laura’s friend Isabella, who kept calling him sugar daddy! This seemingly innocent Isabella wasn’t just a business partner—she’d been sleeping with Osman all along. Laura had become a tool Isabella used to please her benefactor. I extracted those money laundering flow statements, along with the exam proxy transfer records and pornographic videos, and organized them into categories. As morning sunlight filtered into the basement, I pressed send. I sent them in encrypted compressed file format to the Economic Investigation Division’s verified report email, copying the tax bureau. Laura, it’s time to wake up from your dream of marrying into wealth.

Three days later, to whitewash her reputation, Laura held a high-profile banquet at a luxury hotel in the city center. She announced publicly that although her mother’s interference had temporarily prevented her from going to the UK, Mr. Osman had already arranged for her to enter a prestigious domestic academy. The banquet hall was brightly lit. Many of Osman’s business associates attended, along with Laura’s classmates. Social media influencers she’d invited for publicity filled the hall. I pushed open the banquet hall doors wearing old clothes, my right hand wrapped in thick bandages. The entire venue instantly fell silent. “Oh my god, that’s the evil mother from online, right?” “How does she have the nerve to show up? Dressed so shabby.” “Probably saw her daughter made it big and came to extort more money. So disgusting.” The guests pointed and whispered, their contempt undisguised. Laura stood on stage in a gown. Seeing me, a flash of triumph crossed her eyes, then she put on a wronged expression. “Mom, what are you doing here? Haven’t you hurt me enough?” She held the microphone, her voice choking. “But no matter how evil you are, you’re still my mom.” “As long as you admit your mistake in front of everyone today, I’m willing to forgive you.” Isabella sneered from the side, stirring things up: “Who apologizes standing up? If you’re truly repentant, you should kneel and apologize to Laura!” “Right! Kneel and apologize!” Several people who’d been bribed started jeering from below the stage. Just then, Osman stood up from the main table, holding documents, looking down at me condescendingly. “Since you’re here, just sign it.” Mr. Osman threw the documents on the floor in front of me. He used a threatening tone to make me sign that notarized statement admitting to slander and severing the mother-daughter relationship. Laura walked to the edge of the stage and threatened me in a voice only we could hear: “If you don’t sign today, I’ll have my online team destroy your reputation so you can’t survive in this city!” “Sign it, and I’ll give you back half the money from the passbook.” Give me back half? Using my lifeline money to threaten me? I looked at the humiliating document on the floor, then at that face on stage that resembled mine yet looked so hateful. I calmly bent down and picked up the pen with my left hand. “Fine, I’ll sign,” I said flatly. Laura and Isabella exchanged glances, smiles of triumph on their faces. Mr. Osman also exhaled a satisfied puff of smoke, watching me submit. I held the pen and walked up to the stage step by step, standing before Laura and Mr. Osman. Then, under everyone’s expectant gaze waiting for my submission, I used both hands and tore the document in half. Then I continued tearing, shredding the document to pieces. With a swoosh, I violently threw the handful of confetti into the shocked faces of Laura and Mr. Osman! Paper scraps fluttered to the floor. Laura screamed: “You crazy old woman, what are you doing?!” “What am I doing?” I looked at them, a cold smile curving my lips. My voice carried through the microphone across the banquet hall: “Laura, Osman. Did you really think that during these past few days when I didn’t fight back, all I did was make one phone call to the embassy?” As soon as I finished speaking, the guests in the hall who’d been ready to watch me humiliated looked at each other. Everyone fell silent. Laura paused, then covered her mouth and sneered: “Phone calls? Who else could you call? The psychiatric hospital?!” “You old hag, are you so traumatized you’re having delusions? Everyone look, this woman’s gone insane! Quick, get security to drag her out!” Isabella beside her joined in the mockery: “Exactly! Wearing rags to a five-star hotel pretending to be rich.” “Mr. Osman, look how pathetic she is. She’s probably money-crazy and daydreaming!” Osman crushed out his cigar, his expression dark, and barked: “A toast refused means a forfeit drunk! Someone, hold this crazy woman down!” “This agreement—she’ll sign it whether she wants to or not!” Two bodyguards immediately lunged toward me. Just as Laura and the others looked triumphant, BANG! The banquet hall doors were pushed open from outside!

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When I was eighteen, after Brooks and I had sex for the first time in our rental apartment, he proposed to me with a cheap ring. At twenty-four, he was found by the Davis family and became the heir to a prestigious and powerful household, but he secretly got engaged to someone else behind my back. On the day of our sixth anniversary, I wanted to surprise him and came home early. I happened to overhear his friend mocking him: “Why are you still living in this dump? Are you really going to refuse the marriage alliance with the Tony family for your first love?” Brooks laughed while biting his cigarette. “How is that possible? I’m just playing around. Alexis doesn’t have the status to be worthy of me now.” The door was slightly ajar, and the words hit me without warning. I froze at the entrance, looking up at the people inside the rental apartment. Aside from Brooks, they were all playboys whose shoes alone cost more than my annual internship salary. Hearing Brooks’s words, they laughed even more mockingly: “Those worthless trinkets she gives you—I’d be embarrassed to carry them in my pocket.” “Yeah, it sounds harsh, but it’s the truth.” My eyelashes trembled as I clutched the gift I’d prepared, having saved up for three months, feeling utterly humiliated. It was already the best thing I could offer Brooks. “When are you planning to break up with her?” Cigarette smoke blurred Brooks’s expression. I couldn’t see clearly, only hearing his indifferent voice: “It’s just an engagement, no need to break up. She’s really stupid—she won’t find out.” The room erupted in derisive laughter again: “She really is stupid, completely played by you.” “But what about Laurient? Can you hide it from her too?” Laurient—I’d heard that name from my colleagues. A genuine heiress. Playful and manipulative, she’d boasted that there wasn’t a man in all of Los Angeles she couldn’t catch. But I’d heard that this time, the man she was pursuing was her social equal, and she was serious about marriage. Brooks showed no emotional reaction to hearing that name. He stubbed out his cigarette and started ushering them out. “Are you done? Alexis is coming home early today.” The group left. I hid around the corner, listening to them complain about how remote and shabby this place was as they walked. Then I heard them say that the engagement between the two families was set for next month. Next month… In the stuffy corridor, I suddenly felt cold enough to shiver. I slowly pieced it together. So the person the Davis family found a year ago—the one whose return was celebrated throughout the city—really was Brooks. I remember looking at Brooks in the kitchen back then and asking regretfully, “You’re both named Davis, why couldn’t it be you?” Brooks asked back with amusement, “Why would it be me?” I looked at him without blinking. “Because… you’re really different.” Brooks didn’t know. When my mom married into that town and brought me along, the first time I saw Brooks, I felt he didn’t belong there. He was smart, aloof, yet strikingly handsome—nothing like that alcoholic, abusive stepfather. Brooks didn’t say anything more at the time. But that very night, the online post was deleted completely. After that, nothing related to the Davis family appeared in my life again. From that moment on, the person I’d loved for eight whole years had already been lying to me. The corridor gradually darkened, the endless darkness seeming ready to swallow me whole. I suddenly felt an urgent need to escape this place. Anywhere would do—I didn’t want to face Brooks. But the moment I stepped around the corner, I locked eyes with Brooks, who was standing at the door. In just a few seconds, Brooks had already guessed what happened. The guilt and regret I’d imagined never appeared on his face. He laughed once, showing that familiar expression somewhere between troubled and annoyed. I knew that look too well. It was exactly like the expression Brooks wore when he used to witness my stepfather about to hit me—troubled, impatient, yet forced to deal with it. Back then, he’d glanced at me coldly, showing no intention of coming over. But in the end, he still pulled me behind him. Later, he protected me with a cold face, time and time again. He was very young then too, no match for an adult’s strength. So he always ended up covered in blood. I’d cry while holding Brooks, soaking half his shoulder with tears. After my mom died, he was the only one who protected me. Brooks always said I was useless, asked how I’d survive without him, but never said he’d abandon me. Memory and reality overlapped as I watched Brooks sigh and walk toward me like he used to. Actually, I was terrified. In that moment, I even blamed myself for not hiding well enough. I wanted to completely disappear and avoid this confrontation. But in the end, under Brooks’s gaze, I asked him numbly, “You’re getting engaged?”

Along with the thunder came Brooks’s voice. He looked down at me and admitted it frankly. “It’s a marriage alliance arranged by the family. I can’t refuse.” “They would never accept someone as worthless as you into the Davis family. You understand that, don’t you?” “But Alexis, I won’t leave you,” his fingers slowly wiped away my tears. “I’ll still protect you, just like before—” I sensed something was wrong. “What do you mean?” What did he mean by “won’t leave me”? What did he mean by “just like before”? Brooks’s eyes were pitch black. Through those eyes, I saw my own wretched, pitiful reflection. I actually had so many questions I wanted to ask. But now I couldn’t get a single word out. I looked at Brooks and asked him slowly, word by word: “Brooks, you want me to be your mistress?” Brooks didn’t deny it. From the moment the Davis family found him, he knew they would never accept me. He agreed to the marriage alliance while continuing to act out this charade with me here. Just like he said, I was so stupid I’d believe anything he told me. I tried hard to keep my eyes open to stop the tears from falling, but I just couldn’t control them. The corridor window was half-open, rain pouring down wildly. Years ago, I’d confessed to Brooks in the pouring rain, and now I had to end it in the rain too. But Brooks didn’t take my words about breaking up seriously. He calmly watched me finish my tantrum, then brought me back to the living room and casually asked what I wanted to eat. He seemed certain I wouldn’t refuse him, much less leave him. Not until I shook off his hand and started packing did his eyes finally show some emotion. “Alexis, does it have to be this way?” I didn’t answer. Brooks’s grip on my wrist only tightened. He looked at me quietly, as if genuinely not understanding: “I said we can still be like before. I can give you anything you want now. Do you really want to go back to those hard times?” I looked at him numbly. “Brooks, I won’t be a mistress.” “I can survive without depending on you.” “Without depending on me?” Brooks laughed. “Alexis, why are you still so naive?” “Without me, could you have graduated safely from under that perverted school administrator’s hands?” “Without me, could you have so coincidentally met that specialist during your surgery?” “And,” Brooks leaned closer to me, his tone mocking, “If you really care so much about what others think, why did you fall for me back then, confess to me, even kiss me—your nominal brother?” My whole body went cold as I slowly raised my head to meet Brooks’s gaze. So mocking and sharp, landing on me like a knife that cut to the bone. “Alexis,” Brooks looked at me with a smile, “stop pretending.” “You’re not as pure and noble as you claim to be.” Brooks said I was really stupid, that every choice I’d made since childhood was foolish. From enduring my stepfather’s beatings without resistance before, to leaving him now—it was all the same. He swore that within a week, I’d definitely come back to him. This week was probably the hardest week of my life. I hit walls everywhere, work went poorly, I couldn’t even find a place to rent. At critical moments, someone would always show up with more money to outbid me. I had no choice but to temporarily stay at my college friend’s place, but this morning, she told me she couldn’t let me stay anymore. My eyes fell on the phone clutched in her hand. I said softly, “Brooks contacted you, didn’t he?” She sighed. “Even if you broke up, he shouldn’t go this far, right?” She didn’t know much about what happened between Brooks and me. I didn’t want to drag her into this any further. I had to move to a hotel. Before I left, Sophia insisted on transferring me some money. “I know your internship salary isn’t much. Use this for now, pay me back when you get your full-time position.” I didn’t accept it. But the news about my full-time position was indeed supposed to come today. When I arrived at the company, though, the atmosphere was strangely off. Many people looked at me with complex expressions. My heart raced as an ominous premonition arose. Before I could think it through, my boss called me over. The office was silent. My boss took a sip of tea and told me straight out. Among this batch of interns, I was the most qualified for the full-time position, but not anymore. “The company landed a once-in-a-lifetime deal, but that company has one requirement.” I met my boss’s gaze, my heart sinking. “…What requirement?” My boss took another sip of hot tea and spoke slowly: “They require that we fire you.”

On the way back to the hotel, it started raining. The rain felt so cold it seemed to pierce into my heart. Brooks was already waiting at the hotel entrance. When he saw me, he got out of the car with an umbrella, his face wearing its usual smile. “Alexis, when will you break the habit of forgetting your umbrella in the rain?” I stared at the hand holding the umbrella. Brooks was still wearing the ring from when he proposed to me. I found it laughable, but I was too exhausted to laugh. The wet, sticky coat clung to my body, making my voice tremble when I spoke: “Brooks, how far do you have to go before you’ll stop?” “I used to like you, depend on you, but I never did anything to hurt you, did I?” “On our anniversary, I’d been preparing for quite a while.” “The gift I got you—I saved up half a year’s salary for it.” “Back then I even thought, I’m about to get my full-time position, and once things stabilize, we can move to a slightly bigger place.” “Why,” I looked up at him, “why do you have to treat me this way? Why does it have to be me?!” Brooks didn’t respond. His eyes fell on my hand instead. “Where’s the ring?” The ring he’d proposed with in the rental apartment. I’d worn it for six whole years. It wasn’t that he’d never bought me new rings, but I just loved that one. “I lost it.” I turned to walk back inside. “Do whatever else you want, Brooks. My answer won’t change.” Unexpectedly, Brooks backed down. He said he could stay out of my employment situation, but he had one condition. “What?” He gestured at the increasingly heavy rain. “It’s cold. Can we go inside to talk?” The hotel I’d found on short notice was very basic. Brooks waited until I changed out of my soaked coat before speaking. He sent me an address, saying there was a reception tomorrow night and asking me to come for a final goodbye. But on the way there the next day, for some reason, my heart suddenly started pounding violently. It was a high-end club, the kind of place I wouldn’t normally even glance at. Brooks’s private room was on the top floor. I saw many people inside. I saw that the bottles of alcohol they casually opened could buy my cheap rental apartment. In that moment, I finally had a concrete sense of Brooks’s current status and the gap between us. There, I also saw Laurient from the Tony family. She sat beside Brooks, beautiful and radiant. Before I could figure out why Laurient was there, I suddenly heard her say she had a surprise for Brooks. Vaguely, I seemed to hear my name. I suddenly tensed up. Laurient knew about my existence. I watched her casually make a phone call to someone. After a few brief sentences, the smile on her face grew even brighter, carrying the satisfaction of a successful prank. She tilted her head, studying his expression as she asked, “I accidentally got Alexis fired. You won’t blame me, will you, Brooks?” I stood there numbly, feeling coldness slowly penetrate my limbs. Until it climbed to my heart, bringing sharp, tingling pain. So Laurient’s “surprise” was destroying the job I’d just gotten today. Brooks sat beside her, watching her calmly. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t blame Laurient, didn’t even change his expression. I’d never found that indifferent face of his so disgusting. He’d clearly promised me he wouldn’t interfere with my work. I suddenly remembered what I’d said yesterday. I remembered that inscrutable smile on Brooks’s face before he left yesterday. I’d thought that because of what I said, he was slightly moved, had the tiniest bit of pity for me. But there was nothing. When Brooks smiled then, was he laughing at me like I was a pathetic, ridiculous clown? A clown who used to be played by him, yet was busy planning an impossible future with him. But now this clown still had to go find him. Because I saw Laurient reach out and pull a jade pendant on a black woven cord from around Brooks’s neck. I slowly blinked. Finally seeing clearly what was in her hand—it was the pendant my mom left me, my only keepsake of her. So when Brooks suggested going to my hotel room yesterday, it wasn’t because he was cold, and it wasn’t because he was actually willing to back down. It was to find this.

Brooks was as accommodating to Laurient as he once was to me. He casually removed the pendant and tossed it to Laurient. The last tightly wound string in my mind suddenly snapped. I had nothing left now. I’d even lost my job. I couldn’t lose this last memento of my mom too. I pushed hard on the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “Brooks—” I saw Brooks look up. Under the brilliant lights, through the glass, he just looked at me quietly with his usual smile, showing no intention of opening the door. I immediately understood—everything he said yesterday was a lie. He was angry I’d talked back to him, angry I’d thrown away the ring. He was warning me, punishing me, using the jade pendant to force me to compromise. Separated by a door, the hallway was quiet, but the music blasting inside the room was deafening, drowning out my voice. I was nearly breaking down as I spoke: “Brooks, I… I don’t want the job anymore!” “I’ll find the ring and return it to you today!” “Please, please give me back mom’s jade pendant!!” A week’s worth of pent-up emotions exploded. I shouted like a madwoman, drawing the attention of many people in the hallway. But Brooks still didn’t move. The music happened to reach its final few seconds of quiet outro, and everything fell silent. Through the glass, I watched helplessly as Laurient took the jade pendant and tossed it up and down with distaste. Then she accidentally fumbled it, and the pendant fell from her hand. After a crisp, cheap-sounding crack, Brooks suddenly stood up. He stared at the cracked jade pendant, his expression changing beyond his control. The scene suddenly descended into chaos. They seemed to be saying something, but my head was buzzing and I couldn’t hear anything clearly. I don’t know how I got back to the hotel. I only came to my senses when I realized I was completely soaked by the rain. Someone equally drenched stood at my door. That face was familiar—one of Brooks’s friends. “Brooks was taken back by the Davis family. He told me to make sure to tell you that things aren’t what you think. He didn’t mean to destroy the jade pendant.” “About your job, Brooks will handle it. Something came up with the Davis family, but as soon as he can get out, he’ll come find you right away. Don’t…” Before he could finish, I slammed the door shut with a bang. Silence returned to my ears. Water dripped from my sleeves, tap tap tap. I stared silently at the broken jade pendant in my hand for who knows how long before my phone suddenly vibrated. A notification popped up—I’d been fired, along with a transfer for severance pay. The full-time position really was Brooks playing me. Laurient couldn’t tolerate my existence, and Brooks condoned her tantrum. It was all lies. I’d never believe Brooks’s fake sympathy again. After blocking Brooks on all platforms, I bought the earliest ticket out of Los Angeles. I never wanted to come back.

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Right after giving birth, I stumbled upon a post: “My wife just had a baby, but I don’t want to help take care of the kid. What should I do?” Someone replied with advice: “Hurry up and apply for an overseas assignment with your company. Best if it’s for about three years.” The poster was puzzled: “Why?” The advisor explained: “Are you stupid? These three years are when kids are the hardest to take care of. Find a legitimate excuse to get out and you can avoid all the hassle, right?” “Plus, kids have no memories of their first three years. By the time you come back from your assignment, it won’t affect you being a good father later.” “If your wife ever fights with you about it, just tell her how hard you worked making money those three years abroad.” “It’s a win-win situation!” The poster immediately responded gratefully: “Thanks, man.” I stared in disbelief, thinking what awful people these two were. The next second, a message from my husband popped up: “Cedric, the company is assigning me overseas for three years.”

I stared at those words, somewhat confused. Why did Morant’s message sound exactly like what that post had suggested? After a moment of shock, I replied: “Overseas assignment? Why so sudden? Where are you going?” The typing indicator above the chat box appeared and disappeared intermittently. Morant’s message finally came through: “It’s a new project in the Southwest.” “Cedric, this is a rare opportunity. The company values this project highly and specifically requested me to lead the team. Once this is done, I’ll definitely get promoted and get a raise when I come back. Our lives will be so much better.” Morant sounded earnest and sincere. In the past, I probably would have supported his career. But I’d just finished my postpartum recovery period. My parents had died in an accident two years ago, and Morant’s parents were unreliable. If he left now, I’d be the only one managing everything at home, inside and out. I told him what I was thinking: “I don’t want you to go.” “The baby is still so small, I really can’t handle it alone.” “And when my maternity leave ends, I have to go back to work too. Who will watch the baby then?” “If you leave now, you’re dumping all the burden on me.” Morant replied almost instantly: “Cedric, I know how hard this is on you. I don’t want to leave you and the baby either.” “But we need to think long-term. This separation now is for a better future.” “As for taking care of the baby, there’s always a way.” “You can take the baby to work with you. Lots of moms do that, don’t they?” “Just tough it out for a few years. Once I’m back, everything will be fine. You’ll just have to work hard these few years, and when I return, everything will be better.” I frowned, laughing bitterly. How dare he say such things, casually telling me to sacrifice while he wanted to be a deserter? I couldn’t hold back and confronted him: “Easy for you to say. How am I supposed to work and take care of a baby at the same time? Carry the baby to the office? Or should I split myself in half?” He paused for a moment this time, then dropped a bombshell: “If it doesn’t work out, just quit your job.” “I can definitely support you and our daughter, no problem.” “You can focus on taking care of the baby at home. Isn’t that great? Many families arrange things this way.” I stared at those lines, instantly furious, my chest tightening with frustration. I didn’t even want to type anymore. I sent angry voice messages instead. “I’m not willing to do that.” “Before we got married, I made it clear to you that I wouldn’t be a housewife. It hasn’t been that long, and you’re already going back on your word.” “You leaving for three years isn’t fair to me, and it’s not fair to Ellis either.” “The child needs a father. You have parenting responsibilities too.” He defended himself pitifully: “Then what do you want me to do?!” “I’m doing all this for—” “Enough!” I cut him off. “We can’t talk clearly on the phone. Come home early tonight. We need to discuss this face to face.” This time, a full two or three minutes passed before his message finally appeared: “I can’t tonight. There’s a project kickoff meeting. I have to have dinner with the leadership. It’ll definitely be late. Don’t wait up, get some rest.” “I’ll come home early tomorrow and we’ll talk properly, okay?” I was exasperated. Ever since the baby was born, he’d been leaving early and coming home late, suddenly becoming a workaholic. I didn’t think much of it before, but after seeing that post, something felt off. I didn’t give him room to negotiate. “Tonight. I’ll wait for you. We must talk this through.” After a long while, he finally replied with a simple “okay.” I let out a deep sigh. On impulse, I clicked back into that post. Surprisingly, it had been updated.

Just over ten minutes ago, the poster had a new problem: “My wife won’t agree to my overseas assignment. She says there’s no one to help take care of the baby. So annoying. Women are so short-sighted.” The advisor quickly replied: “That’s easy. First, work it out with your mom. Have your mom come help out.” “Once you leave, then have your mom find some excuse to bail.” “By then you’ll already be overseas. What can your wife do about it?” “The kid will be tied to her. She can’t just abandon the baby, can she? In the end, she’ll have to deal with it herself.” The poster was ecstatic, sending a string of praise emojis: “Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! You really get it! I’ll do exactly that!” I felt my hands and feet go cold. This was a coordinated attack against women. Some netizens who couldn’t stand it started cursing: “Have some humanity!” “Your wife just gave birth to your child and you’re scheming against her like this? Did a dog eat your conscience?” “What a time to be alive, even animals can pretend to be human now.” “Red flag! Stay away from this scumbag!” Facing the criticism from netizens, the poster didn’t immediately respond. I thought maybe he felt guilty and didn’t have the nerve to show his face. But after a while, he replied. He shot back at those criticizing him: “What do you know?! Easy for you to talk when it’s not your problem!” “Do you know how much pressure there is in the workplace these days? I’m going out there to advance my career for this family!” “Isn’t it a woman’s natural duty to take care of children? Isn’t it tiring for me to earn money to support the family?” “My mom worked hard her whole life. Helping out is a favor, not an obligation. What’s wrong with that?” “You say I’m scheming? I’m rationally allocating family resources. You’re just jealous!” His comments became more and more extreme and absurd, drawing even more angry criticism from netizens. The thread grew rapidly, quickly turning into a fierce flame war. Until one reply appeared: “Screenshot taken. Everyone, stop arguing. The most important thing now is to make sure his wife knows about this.” “You’d better pray your wife never sees this post.” After this reply, the previously arrogant poster suddenly went silent. A few seconds later, I refreshed the page. The screen displayed: “Sorry, the post you’re trying to access has been hidden or deleted.” He panicked. I clicked into his profile page. It was completely blank, with default avatar and username. There was no useful information to be found. But I wasn’t worried. Those who should slip up will slip up eventually.

At seven in the evening, Ellis started fussing before bed. I held her and paced back and forth in the living room, humming an off-key lullaby. At eight, Morant sent a message: “Meeting’s running long, will be a while longer. You eat first, don’t go hungry.” I didn’t reply, just kept pacing. Ellis’s crying quieted down, turning into pitiful whimpers. At nine-thirty, he sent another message: “Had a few drinks with clients, won’t be back that soon. Just go to sleep.” At eleven, I finally heard keys turning in the lock. He pushed the door open and saw me sitting on the sofa. He froze for a moment: “You’re still up? Didn’t I tell you to sleep?” He walked toward me, trying to hug me. A faint, unfamiliar perfume scent wafted over. I moved aside to avoid him. He looked awkward. I got straight to the point: “Let’s talk about the overseas assignment.” He sat down and began explaining: “Cedric, I know you were upset today.” “This assignment really was too sudden. I had no idea the company would arrange things this way.” I didn’t respond, just looked at him. Seeing my silence, he continued: “Look, raising a kid is so expensive now. Education costs will be even more astronomical later.” “My current position isn’t great—stuck in the middle, and the pay is just so-so. When I come back…” He went on and on, painting a picture of his promotion and raise. But I was too lazy to listen anymore. I asked him: “Did you actively apply for this assignment?” He froze for a moment, his eyes flickering briefly before returning to normal: “How could that be? Of course the company arranged it. If I refused, wouldn’t that make me ungrateful?” “Is that so?” I stared at him, my gaze sweeping across his slightly open collar, where there seemed to be some inconspicuous glitter. “Are you going alone or with someone else?” He turned his head, avoiding my gaze: “My secretary is going too.” His secretary was named Ilysis, a pretty young woman. I understood, and smiled. He was baffled by my smile and quickly changed the subject: “Cedric, I know it’ll be hard for you to take care of the baby alone. I’ve already thought it through—we can have my mom come help.” Hearing this, my heart sank. This line… Morant thought his idea was great, his voice brightening: “My mom’s still in decent health. She can definitely handle taking care of the baby.” “With her helping out, won’t that make things easier for you?” As he said this, his expression was frank and his tone sincere. If I hadn’t seen that post, I might have been fooled by his act. The last bit of hope in my heart disappeared. It really was him scheming against me. I didn’t rush to expose him. Under his gaze, I gently nodded. “Fine, then go.” Since he dared to scheme against me, he couldn’t blame me for what came next. Morant’s face instantly lit up. “Cedric, you really agree?” He seemed to want confirmation, his voice barely containing his joy. “Yeah.” I lowered my head, looking at my fingers twisted together, not wanting to see his nauseating expression. “When are you leaving?” “Next week! Next Wednesday’s flight!” He blurted it out, then seemed to realize he sounded too eager and softened his tone: “The project timeline is tight, they’re pushing hard over there. I wanted to spend more time with you and Ellis, but I really have no choice.” I smiled bitterly. He really didn’t want to stay a moment longer. “But,” he leaned in closer, trying to hold my hand. I shifted slightly, avoiding him. He didn’t seem to mind and continued: “I’ve arranged everything. I’ll call my mom in a bit and have her pack up and come as soon as possible.” “Also, I told Torres that while I’m gone these three years, he should look after you two.” “If there’s any heavy work, hard labor, or anything that needs a man’s help, just ask him. He’s my best friend, totally trustworthy.” I knew Torres—Morant’s childhood friend who grew up with him. They both joined the same company. Morant became a minor manager while Torres remained an ordinary employee. He was pretty helpful. Morant mentioned him often. I didn’t know if this was part of his scheme. But since he’d already made all these arrangements, how could I not go along with his wishes? I said okay. Morant breathed a sigh of relief, hugging me tightly and thanking me for understanding him. This time I didn’t avoid him. I rested my chin on his shoulder and sneered. Morant, it was too early to thank me.

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The day my SAT scores came out, several Ivy League admissions officers showed up at my house, all competing to recruit me. My high school teacher, Ms. Peyton — a woman who worshiped male students — deliberately said when she learned I’d gotten a perfect SAT score: “Jenna, I’m so happy for you! I can’t believe you actually slept your way to getting the test answers and still managed a perfect score! Oh my, I’m just joking. It slipped out. Don’t mind me. Just tell me quietly — how many test writers did you sleep with this time?” In my past life, I cried and explained that I’d studied hard for the exam myself. She sneered: “Right, right, you studied for it yourself. If you didn’t seduce male teachers and get the answers ahead of time, then why are you so upset right now?” That statement made the Harvard and Stanford admissions officers suspicious, and they rejected my application on the spot. In the end, I wasn’t accepted by any university. Three years of hard work went down the drain, and I eventually died from depression. Meanwhile, the male student Ms. Peyton favored most stole my admission spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the Ivy League admissions officers came to school. Without hesitation, I chose to call the police: “Officer, I’ve been assaulted, and the witness is my high school teacher.”

The moment those words left my mouth, Ms. Peyton’s expression changed instantly. She never expected that I — usually introverted and timid — would actually call the police in front of so many people. She lunged at me, reaching for my phone. I stepped back, and she nearly fell to the ground. “Jenna, what are you doing? It’s such a small matter. Is it really worth calling the police?” “What witness? I just heard it from someone else. I can’t testify for you!” I froze, staring at her intently. “A small matter? Spreading sexual rumors about me and accusing me of cheating — that’s a small matter?” “You knew the Ivy League admissions officers were coming to my house today. Why would you say something like that?” Ms. Peyton looked as if I’d exposed her, her face turning ugly. But the next second, she laughed dramatically, accusing me of being too sensitive. “I didn’t know the Ivy League admissions team was coming to your house today. I didn’t mean to bring up your… impropriety.” “I’m just worried that if you got into an Ivy League school through these means, you won’t be able to handle the academics there. Your teacher is just looking out for you!” “After all, you’re a girl who became the top science student in the state. Who knows what underhanded methods you used?” She cleared her throat and suddenly raised her voice. Everyone’s attention was drawn back to her, even my mom looked at me with suspicion. “Dear admissions officers, I know this child, Jenna. When she first enrolled, she was at the bottom of the class. Then she transferred to the science class — which was full of male teachers — and suddenly her grades shot up.” “Don’t you think that’s strange? And I’ve caught her going in and out of hotels with male teachers multiple times. As her teacher, it’s hard for me not to think in that direction!” In my past life, Ms. Peyton said exactly this, making the admissions officers deeply disappointed in me. She relied on her position as my high school teacher, knowing no one would question a teacher’s character. She made everyone believe her lies, and no one wanted to hear my explanation. Not only did the Ivy League schools reject my file, preventing me from attending any college. Even my parents were implicated and ridiculed by relatives and friends. Three years of hard work were destroyed. They disowned me. I couldn’t defend myself. In the end, I died from depression. When I opened my eyes again and returned to this day, there was no way I’d let her play her tricks and ruin my college dreams again! “A hotel?” My mom looked at me in disbelief, her lips trembling slightly. “That’s right, Jenna’s mom. You didn’t know, did you? Jenna is a regular at the hotel by the school gate. The first time I saw it, I couldn’t believe she was that kind of person!” After saying this, Ms. Peyton quickly covered her mouth, pretending it was an accidental slip. “Wait, no, no. Oh my! Why did I say that out loud? Just pretend I was talking nonsense. Don’t overthink it!” “I came here today to celebrate Jenna getting a perfect SAT score and bringing honor to our school, even though her methods were a bit… unclean…” All the admissions officers exchanged glances and began discussing among themselves. “I can’t believe she’s that kind of person. Our school can’t admit someone like this…” Even my mom didn’t trust me, frowning as she questioned me: “Jenna, is what Ms. Peyton said true?” “Did you really go to that kind of place? Tell me. How many times did you go?” A trace of delight flashed in Ms. Peyton’s eyes, but I showed no sign of panic. “Ms. Peyton, are you sure you saw me? Then I must have been drugged unconscious, because I don’t remember it at all!” “When the police arrive, you must clearly state the time and location so they can catch the person who assaulted me as soon as possible!”

Ms. Peyton was stunned. The current me was completely different from the me she knew. She never expected I’d be so serious about this — not only showing no shame but practically wanting the whole world to know. “Dear Ivy League admissions officers, I believe Ms. Peyton’s words. She must not be joking!” “But I truly don’t remember any of this. I definitely wasn’t there willingly. With Ms. Peyton here, she can definitely find the culprit and clear my name!” I gripped Ms. Peyton’s hand tightly, speaking earnestly. She recoiled in disgust and immediately shook me off. “You — what nonsense are you spouting, child?” “How shameless can you be? Tell the truth. A month ago, did you or did you not check into the hotel by the school gate?” “And you weren’t the only one who checked in! Admissions officers, if you don’t believe me, you can check the registration records. I swear on my twenty years as a teacher!” At those words, all the admissions officers’ gazes fell on me like countless knives. “Miss Lynn, did you really use despicable means to get the SAT answers and score so high?” “No wonder she scored more than ten points higher than second place. In twenty years, no one has scored this high. So that’s how…” The fruit platter in my mom’s hands fell to the floor, fruit scattering everywhere. She looked at me with tears in her eyes, her voice filled with anger and shock. “Jenna, tell your mother. Is what Ms. Peyton said true? Did you go to a hotel?” “Did you — did you really use those methods to get your grades today? Say something! Are you trying to kill your mother?” “Your father and I poured everything into raising you. How could we have raised a daughter like you?” Ms. Peyton looked at me triumphantly, a smug smile on her lips. I suddenly remembered that before the SAT, I did go to the school hotel. Dylan Cooper had asked me to meet him there. But as soon as I entered and went upstairs, I sensed something was wrong and left through the back door. Only now did I understand — this was a trap set by Ms. Peyton and my classmate, Dylan Cooper. She was determined to have Dylan Cooper take my perfect SAT score. After all, the school’s reward for the top student was a full hundred thousand dollars! To achieve her goal, she was willing to stake her twenty years of teaching reputation. Ms. Peyton knew exactly how to manipulate teachers and parents. She understood that the truth didn’t matter — public opinion was enough to crush a person. Once the admissions officers left, they would spread the news. And then what awaited me would be slut-shaming. In this life, not only would I be unable to attend college, I’d even repeat the tragic fate of my past life. “I did go.” Three words slowly left my mouth. My mom nearly fainted from anger on the spot, and the admissions officers clamored to leave. “However, I didn’t enter any room. I left through the back of the hotel.” Ms. Peyton burst out laughing: “Ha ha ha, who would believe that? Jenna, you usually look so pure and honest, but only I, as your teacher, truly understand what kind of person you are!” “I didn’t deliberately smear you in front of the admissions officers. I just don’t want to see you go down the wrong path and make mistake after mistake!” “As long as you admit your error, we’ll void this year’s results, and you can prepare properly for the SAT next year. I’m willing to tutor you for free!” She spoke with such sincerity, like a good teacher. Only I knew how much she worshiped men and loved spreading sexual rumors about female students. In high school, Ms. Peyton treated male and female students completely differently. When male students asked for leave, she’d approve without checking the reason. But when female students were in so much pain they fainted, she’d just think they were faking. When male students didn’t wear their uniforms properly, it showed boldness and masculinity. But if a female student dared take off her jacket, she was a shameless slut trying to seduce men. She would spend an entire class period scolding female students, treating all the girls in class like enemies. I took out my phone and called the hotel by the school gate: “Could you please check the back door surveillance footage from around 8 PM a month ago?” The front desk quickly sent me the surveillance from that time. It clearly showed me entering through the front door and leaving through the back door less than a minute later.

Everyone watched the surveillance footage. Ms. Peyton’s face showed a moment of surprise, then she also called the hotel front desk. A few minutes later, a year’s worth of check-in records was displayed for everyone to see. “Jenna, the surveillance video only proves you didn’t go this time. It doesn’t mean you never went before!” “This is the check-in record from the past year that I just had the front desk send me. Look for yourself — how many times have you checked in this year?” “Tsk tsk tsk, so shameless at such a young age. I’m truly ashamed for you as your teacher!” “Dear admissions officers, look at what kind of person she really is! Tell me, how could a student like this possibly get a perfect SAT score through her own efforts?” Suddenly, my dad, who had just returned home, saw all of this. He raised his hand and slapped me: “You — how could you do something so disgraceful!” “Go turn yourself in right now, or I don’t have a daughter like you!” My face immediately burned with pain, half of it swelling up. My parents were both furious and shocked. The way they looked at me was complicated. I covered my face, holding back tears. Ms. Peyton’s smile grew even more triumphant. I’d studied hard for three years, finally going from the worst student to the top student, and even my parents didn’t believe me. “Don’t — don’t hit the child! I’m sure Jenna just had a moment of confusion. Otherwise she wouldn’t have done such things for six years!” “I only found out about this from her middle school teacher. Otherwise I wouldn’t dare believe I’d have such a student!” My dad clutched his chest in anger, his face flushed red, pulling out his belt and pointing it at me. “Jenna Lynn! You — you did this disgraceful thing for six whole years! Let’s see if I don’t beat you to death today!” He charged at me with the belt. I ran everywhere to escape. My mom’s tears wouldn’t stop flowing, her eyes red from crying: “Jenna, you’ve disappointed your mother so much!” Seeing me getting beaten, Ms. Peyton almost laughed out loud but forcibly suppressed it, pretending to stop my dad. “Jenna’s dad, don’t get so worked up! No matter what, you can’t hit your child!” The admissions officers also shook their heads in disappointment at the scene. “Miss Lynn, we have doubts about your SAT results and cannot approve your application.” I froze and immediately explained: “Do you believe what she’s saying too? The SAT is fair and secure. How could the answers possibly be leaked?” “Mom, Dad, calm down! Think carefully — I’m just an ordinary student. How could I possibly know the test writers?” “And leaking SAT answers is a criminal offense with a ten-year prison sentence. Who would dare leak them?” My dad lowered the belt in his hand. My mom stopped crying too. Everyone realized this wasn’t realistic. The SAT had military-level security. Even the most powerful person couldn’t get the answers. Suddenly, Dylan Cooper walked in: “Then how do you explain this?” He pulled out a report. My parents were shocked when they saw it. “Jenna, you — you’re pregnant? Early intrauterine pregnancy, six weeks! What do you have to say for yourself?” Ms. Peyton quickly snatched the report and hid it, scolding Dylan Cooper: “Why did you come here? I wasn’t planning to tell them about this. After all, it’s not honorable for a girl…” “Everyone, just treat this as fake, as a joke. Don’t believe it!” Dylan refused to back down: “Why not? Why should someone like her be the top student!” “Jenna Lynn is a shameless slut. She’s always taking birth control pills at school. The whole class has seen it!” With those words, the whole room exploded. My dad wanted to kill me. My mom had a heart attack and fainted on the spot. The admissions officers turned to leave. “How did I give birth to a slut like you! You’re even — even pregnant with some bastard’s child!” My dad grabbed a kitchen knife and came at me like a madman. The scene descended into chaos. Ms. Peyton and Dylan calmly watched the show from the side. “I’m not pregnant! They forged that report! They’re deliberately trying to harm me. Dad, please calm down! Admissions officers, don’t leave!” I desperately explained, completely despairing, but now no one was willing to believe me. My dad couldn’t hear anything. The knife came straight at my neck. The next second, a large number of police officers burst through the door. “We heard a report about SAT answer leaks? I’m the SAT inspection team leader. This matter is serious. We immediately launched an investigation upon receiving the report.” “After examination, student Jenna Lynn’s results are legal and compliant. The test writers and papers were all under strict monitoring, with no leaks whatsoever.” “We are now lawfully arresting Peyton and Dylan Cooper for spreading rumors. Please come with the police.”

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The day before my wedding, I went to get my nails done. My fiancé came back with coffee and casually handed a cup to the nail tech. “Hey, add me on Ins. My wife can book you for her nails from now on.” I stared at him coldly. Sensing my gaze, he smiled. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous again? I’m just making a friend. Maybe she’ll give you a discount next time.” I glanced at his phone screen. The note read: Amy, curvy, blonde, single. I smiled. A dog really can’t stop eating shit. Since he loved making friends so much, I’d help him invite all his female “friends.” Using his phone, I messaged his ex-girlfriends, his flings, the ones he’d met for dinner, the ones he’d sexted late at night, one by one: “My wedding’s tomorrow. I saved you a seat. Please come.” “Hello, is this the Grand Hotel? I need to add three more tables for tomorrow’s reception.” The manager paused. “That’ll cost extra.” Money wasn’t an issue. Less than five minutes after I hung up, Ethan’s call came through. “Why are you adding tables without discussing it with me first?” His voice was sharp and urgent, like I’d committed some unforgivable crime. I leaned back on the sofa, suddenly finding it almost funny. “I just want to invite a few more friends. What’s the problem?” I said. “What friends need three whole tables?” He pressed on relentlessly. “My parents said they can’t pay for the extra three tables.” I said mockingly, “It’s just adding some tables. Do you really need to blow up like this?” He continued angrily: “Sophia, you’re doing this because I added that nail tech on Ins, aren’t you? It’s normal socializing and you have to make a big deal out of it!” Normal socializing. He made it sound so simple. I gripped my phone tighter. “So sleeping with Christine at that hotel was also normal socializing?” Silence on the other end. “That was before we registered our marriage. Are you ever going to let it go?” It was indeed before the marriage registration, but we were still dating then. Last March, he said his company was having a team retreat and stayed at a hotel overnight. I only found out later that his “team retreat” companion was his ex-girlfriend Christine. “And staying at Wendy’s place for three days, that was also before registration?” “Will you ever stop?” Last month, he said he was on a business trip for three days. Turns out he was with Wendy. Right here in the city, less than ten kilometers from my home. Wendy posted a breakfast photo on her feed. The hands visible across the table wore a watch I’d given him. “Transferring twenty thousand dollars to Rachel and saying you’d take care of her, that was also before marriage?” “Sophia!” “You told everyone you were single, said I was just someone your family set you up with, said you didn’t love me at all…” “Enough!” He suddenly roared: “That’s all in the past! What’s the point of bringing it up over and over? What man doesn’t have a past? You’re just petty, just looking for trouble!” He took a breath, his voice turning cold. “Anyway, my parents won’t pay for those three tables. You invited them, you figure it out yourself.”

I leaned back on the sofa, suddenly feeling exhausted. Three years. Every time it was like this. I thought marriage would change him, thought he’d settle down. I really overestimated myself. “Twelve hundred for three tables, right?” I didn’t waste any more words and transferred the money directly. He paused for two seconds, saying “what are you doing,” but the next second I saw: Payment received. Immediately followed by a message: “You’re the best, babe. Let’s not talk about the past anymore. You’re the only one I love! Can’t wait for tomorrow’s wedding.” Looking at those words, I felt sick to my stomach. I typed back: “You better look forward to it. I’ve prepared a big surprise for you.” He asked what surprise. I didn’t reply. After hanging up, I picked up the phone and called my lawyer. “Mr. Wilson, draft me a divorce agreement. I need it after the wedding tomorrow.” The lawyer was clearly stunned. “But isn’t your wedding tomorrow?” “Yes. The wedding will happen, and I’m getting divorced too.” He didn’t ask further, just told me to send over the marriage certificate for filing. I pulled out that little red booklet from my bag, took a photo, and sent it over. About five minutes later, Mr. Wilson called back. His voice sounded off. “Miss Sophia, something’s wrong with this marriage certificate.” My heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?” “I checked the registration number. It doesn’t exist in the system. Miss Sophia, this marriage certificate is fake. You two have no legal marriage relationship.” I stood there holding the phone. Originally, I only planned to invite those women to give him a little surprise. Now it seemed the surprise wasn’t big enough. I opened my phone and started going through Ethan’s flirty chat logs, transaction screenshots, intimate photos, saving them all into a folder. Three years’ worth of evidence was all here—so much the folder could barely hold it all. I compiled all the material into a slideshow, set it to the background music of “Love For Sale,” and sent it to the MC: “For tomorrow’s wedding, replace the video with this one.” The MC was silent for a full ten seconds before replying with one word: “Okay.” I closed my phone and lay in bed. I didn’t sleep all night. The next morning, while I was getting my makeup done, Ethan sent a message: “Babe, I’m so excited. Finally getting to marry you.” I stared at the screen for two seconds before replying: “You’ll be even more excited soon.” Then my mom called: “Sophia, who exactly did you invite for those three tables? Why didn’t you tell us?” I said, “Mom, just watch the show today. Don’t ask so many questions.” She sighed. “Don’t do anything crazy.” I didn’t answer. After hanging up, I deleted all the photos with Ethan from my phone. Not a single one left. I called the hotel manager: “Those three tables of mine, arrange them directly facing the stage.” After hanging up, I took a deep breath, lifted my wedding dress hem, and walked out of the dressing room. Guests gradually arrived. I stood at the entrance greeting them, counting down in my mind. Ethan came over, glanced at the three empty tables, and asked, “Who did you invite? Why aren’t they here yet?”

I smiled and said, “Just invited a few of your ex-girlfriends.” His face instantly went pale. “What did you say? Are you crazy?” He lowered his voice, angry. “I just added that nail tech on Ins and you’re doing this? You have to cause a scene on our wedding day?!” I picked up a glass of champagne and took a sip without responding. Ethan stared at me for a while, then turned and left, his face dark as thunder. After a while, he came back with his parents and mine following behind. He said coldly, “Sophia, come to the dressing room. We need to talk.” My mom asked quietly, “Sophia, what’s wrong?” I didn’t answer. The group entered the dressing room and the door closed. As soon as the door shut, his mother spoke first: “Sophia, what’s the meaning of this? Inviting my son’s ex-girlfriends on his wedding day? Have you no sense of occasion?” I said calmly, “Mrs. Carter, I just invited a few friends to the wedding.” “Friends?” Ethan’s father slammed his hand on the table. “My son said you invited his ex-girlfriends! Do you think I’m an idiot? You’re deliberately trying to embarrass our family!” Ethan pointed his finger at my nose, nearly poking my face. “Sophia, isn’t this all because I added someone on Ins? Is this necessary? Inviting ex-girlfriends? Are you out of your mind?” I looked at him and laughed. “Added someone on Ins? You noted her as hot body, fair skin, single, you flirted with another woman right in front of me, and you ask if this is necessary?” Ethan’s mother interrupted: “Men make small mistakes sometimes. Making such a scene, how will you live together after this? I’m telling you, we’re cutting the wedding money to eight thousand. Let this be a lesson!” My mom exploded: “What do you mean small mistakes? He flirted with another woman right in front of Sophia! How shameless can your family be!” “What’s wrong with our family?” Ethan’s mother’s voice was even louder. “Your daughter invited ex-girlfriends to the wedding! What kind of behavior is that? I’m telling you, if you want this wedding to happen, behave yourselves. If not, forget it!” “You—” My dad’s face turned red with anger. “Eight thousand if you want the wedding, not a penny if you don’t!” Ethan’s mother turned her face away, crossing her arms. My mom’s hands were shaking with rage. “What kind of family are you? Don’t you know what your own son is like? This wedding is off!” “Fine, call it off! Who cares!” Ethan’s mother sneered. “With your daughter’s attitude, who’d want her after my son?” “What did you say?!” My dad rushed forward to argue, but my mom held him back tightly. The dressing room erupted into chaos. Ethan stood in the middle, not saying a word, his face even showing a hint of smugness. I looked at him and suddenly smiled. “Of course we’re having the wedding.” Everyone fell silent, all eyes turning to me.

My mom froze. “Sophia, what are you saying?” I didn’t look at her. Staring at Ethan’s mother, I said slowly and clearly: “Forget the eight thousand. I don’t want a single penny.” Ethan’s mother’s expression changed instantly—from scowling to smiling, faster than flipping a page. “That’s more like it. Wouldn’t it have been easier to do this from the start?” Ethan also relaxed, a smile appearing on his face as he walked over to put his arm around me. “I knew you couldn’t let me go.” I stepped aside, dodging his hand. My mom stood frozen, looking at me with red-rimmed eyes full of disappointment. My dad turned his face away, his shoulders shaking. I couldn’t bear to look at them. I turned and opened the dressing room door, walking out. As I left the dressing room, Ethan followed behind me. “Sophia, wait for me.” I didn’t stop. “By the way, I didn’t just invite ex-girlfriends,” I said. He froze, catching up to grab my arm. “What do you mean? Who else?” I didn’t answer. “Say something! Sophia! Who else did you invite?” I shook off his hand and kept walking. The MC approached. “Bride, can we start?” I nodded. “Let’s begin.” The music started. I walked onto the stage. Ethan stood opposite me, smiling stiffly, his eyes constantly glancing at those three empty tables. The MC announced loudly: “Does anyone here object to this union?” As soon as he finished speaking, the banquet hall doors burst open. A woman walked in. She wore a loose dress, one hand supporting her slightly swollen belly, walking step by step to the front of the stage. When Ethan saw her face, he froze completely. “Why are you here?” She didn’t look at him. She raised her head to address everyone, her voice not loud but every word clear: “I object. And so does the baby in my belly.” The entire hall erupted. I looked at her belly, then at Ethan’s face, which had turned deathly pale in an instant. In that moment, I understood everything. I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. The crack echoed through the silent hall. Ethan covered his face, eyes wide, staring at me. Before he could speak, the doors moved again. A second woman walked in. “I object too.” A third. “I also object.” Fourth, fifth, sixth… Over thirty women walked in one after another. Five of them were visibly pregnant. They lined up in three rows in front of the stage, all staring at Ethan. The entire venue exploded. People stood up, some screamed, some held up their phones to record. Ethan’s face was deathly pale, his whole body trembling on stage. He shouted at security: “Get them out! All of them out! Security!” Security rushed up to remove the women. The women struggled, screaming “scumbag” and “liar,” their voices sharp and piercing. Ethan grabbed the microphone, his voice shrill and panicked: “Continue the ceremony! Ignore them! Continue!” I smiled. I took off my ring and threw it hard at his face. “No need to continue. I object too.” I turned to face everyone below the stage, saying slowly and clearly: “I organized this wedding to expose this scumbag.” The big screen lit up. Ethan’s expression changed instantly. He rushed over frantically: “Turn it off! Turn it off now!”

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On the fifth day of my postpartum recovery, my husband suddenly brought his mistress into the VIP postpartum suite. He yanked off my blanket and forcibly exposed my engorged chest to the air. “Her kid just got weaned and is throwing tantrums. You’ve got plenty of milk—hurry up and pump a bowl to feed him!” He moved toward me with a breast pump without any regard, his eyes looking at me like I was a free dairy cow. I desperately tried to cover my chest, but he pinned my wrists to the bed with a death grip. His mistress stood beside him holding a bowl, smacking her lips with malicious intent. “Summer, you’re a mother now. Can’t you even spare some milk? How can you bear to watch my child go hungry?” In my panic, I grabbed the scalding hot chicken soup that had just been delivered to my bedside and threw it at them. “Then have this bowl of soup too!” “Murder!” The boiling chicken soup, meat and all, hit her face. The greasy broth dripped down. Ethan raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face without hesitation. “Summer, are you insane?!” My ears rang. I stared in disbelief at this man I’d been with for years. “You dare hit me?” Ethan’s face was full of rage as he pointed at my nose and cursed. “So what if I hit you? Look at what you’ve done!” “Rose came here out of the goodness of her heart to see you. Fine, you won’t give milk, but then you throw boiling water on her!” “How can a woman be so vicious? Has your conscience been eaten by dogs?” Rose covered her face and rolled on the ground. “Oh my face! It’s ruined!” “Ethan, your wife is too cruel. I just felt bad that my little Toby had no milk to drink!” “She’s so engorged—what’s wrong with pumping out a little? It’s not like we’re asking her to die!” “I think she just looks down on us poor relatives from the countryside. She despises us!” Ethan grabbed my collar and yanked me up from the bed. “Summer, get on your knees and apologize to Rose right now!” “If you don’t make Rose happy today, forget about finishing your postpartum recovery!” I looked at him coldly. “Ethan, did they inject progesterone shots into your brain?” “I’m your wife. I just gave birth to your daughter five days ago!” “You bring another woman into my room, forcibly strip my clothes, and want to feed my milk to a three-year-old?” “You call that human behavior?” Ethan showed no remorse. “So what if he’s three? Three-year-olds need nutrition too!” “Your milk would just go to waste anyway. Might as well feed it to my nephew to boost his brain.” “Besides, Rose has doted on me since I was little. Without her, I wouldn’t be where I am today.” “You married me, so you have to honor her with me. That’s the rule of the Anderson family!” I laughed bitterly. “Honor her? With my breast milk?” “Ethan, are you sick? If you’re sick, go get treatment. Don’t act crazy here!” As I spoke, I reached for the call button by the bed. Ethan was quick. He grabbed the cord and yanked it hard. “Want to call for help? You think this isn’t embarrassing enough? I’m the one who’s embarrassed!” “Let me tell you, Summer—today you’re pumping that milk whether you like it or not!” He turned to look at Rose, still playing dead on the floor. “Rose, stop crying. Grab the breast pump.” “I’ll hold her down, you pump it. We’re bringing back a bowl for Toby no matter what.” Hearing this, Rose immediately scrambled up from the floor. “Ethan really does care about me. Summer, don’t take this the wrong way, but women are just milk-producing tools after having kids. Now that you’re producing, who cares who drinks it?” I struggled desperately, kicking and crawling toward the corner of the bed. “Get away from me! Don’t touch me!” “This is illegal! I’m calling the police!” Ethan pounced on me, his knee pressing hard on my freshly sutured abdomen. “Call the police? Go ahead! Can the police stop a husband from having his wife pump milk?” “You’re just a selfish, poisonous woman who won’t even make this small sacrifice!” He pinned my hands down, twisting my arms behind my head. Rose took the opportunity to lunge forward and rip open my hospital gown.

“Ethan, if you let her touch me today, I will never forgive you!” Ethan snorted coldly, his eyes full of disdain. “Never forgive me? You’re just a receptionist. Without me, could you even survive?” “If I hadn’t been charitable enough to marry you, you’d still be starving in some rental apartment!” “This VIP postpartum suite costs eighteen thousand a day, and my mother paid for it. What right do you have to make a scene here?” Eighteen thousand a day, paid by his mother? Absolutely ridiculous. Just as Rose’s breast pump was about to touch me, urgent knocking suddenly came from outside. “Is the patient in room 602 okay? Did someone press the call button?” A nurse’s voice came from outside the door. Ethan put on a gentle, refined smile and went to open the door. “Nurse, it’s nothing.” “My wife just gave birth and her emotions are unstable. She accidentally touched the cord.” The nurse looked inside suspiciously, her gaze landing on Rose’s oil-stained clothes. “What happened to this lady?” Ethan sighed, putting on a helpless expression. “My wife has postpartum depression and a bad temper. She just threw soup on Rose.” “We’re trying to calm her down. I’m so sorry for the trouble.” The nurse looked at me lying pale in the bed. “Emotional fluctuations after childbirth are normal. Family members need to be understanding.” “However, if there are violent tendencies, I suggest bringing in a psychologist.” I used all my strength to call for help. “Help me! He’s abusing me!” But my voice was extremely weak. Ethan walked over and held my hand with fake concern. “Summer, I know you’re suffering. Stop talking nonsense.” “Nurse, you can go ahead. I’ll take good care of her.” The nurse nodded and closed the door as she left. The moment the door closed, the tenderness on Ethan’s face vanished instantly. “Smart move, not saying anything crazy.” “Otherwise I’ll send you to a mental hospital where you’ll never see your daughter again!” I didn’t argue back. Fighting head-on now would only hurt me more. Just then, the hospital room door was pushed open again. My mother-in-law, Martha, walked in carrying large bags. “Oh my goodness, Rose, what happened to you?” Rose immediately threw herself at Martha, crying dramatically. “Martha, you have to help me!” “I came to see her out of kindness, and not only won’t she feed Toby, she threw boiling soup on me!” “If my face is ruined, how can I face people?” Martha immediately pointed at my nose and started cursing. “Summer, you dare hit my niece?” “We let you stay in such a nice place—did we bring you here to be some pampered young mistress?” “Rose came all this way. What’s wrong with asking you for some milk?” “Your milk is so fishy anyway. My Toby drinking it is doing you a favor!” I endured the pain from my incision and asked hoarsely: “Ethan said you paid for this VIP postpartum suite?” Martha hesitated, her eyes dodging. “Of course! If I didn’t pay, did you?” “Your pathetic monthly salary couldn’t even afford the toilet here!” A mocking smile appeared at the corner of my mouth. “Really? Then I’ll check the payment records tomorrow to see exactly who paid.” Ethan impatiently grabbed Martha’s arm. “Martha, don’t bother with her. She’s a lunatic right now.”

Ethan turned to look at Rose, his tone ingratiating. “Rose, I’m really sorry about today. She’s so emotional right now, her milk probably isn’t good anyway.” “If Toby drinks it and gets indigestion, that would be bad.” “Why don’t you go take a shower and change clothes? Stay here tonight.” My eyes flew open. “What did you say? Let her stay here?” This was a single VIP suite. Although there was a caregiver bed, it absolutely couldn’t accommodate a third person. Ethan rolled his eyes at me, his tone matter-of-fact. “Why not? This room is so big—leaving it empty is wasteful.” “Rose took an overnight bus to come see you. You want her to stay in a hotel? That costs money!” “Besides, Rose has had a child. She has experience. She can stay and help take care of you during recovery.” I laughed coldly. “Take care of me? Is she here to take care of me or to drain me dry?” Martha slammed her hand on the bedside table. “Summer, don’t be so ungrateful!” “Rose staying is an honor for you. Don’t be ignorant of your blessings.” “It’s settled. Rose sleeps on the caregiver bed, Ethan sleeps on the couch.” “As for you, don’t moan and groan at night and disturb their sleep!” Ethan opened the premium postpartum meal that had just been delivered and started eating with his fork. “The food at this VIP postpartum suite really is good. Better than restaurants outside.” I watched him eat with gusto. “That’s my postpartum meal. I haven’t eaten yet.” Ethan didn’t even look up. “You just threw soup everywhere. You’re probably too upset to eat anyway.” “This stuff gets fishy when it’s cold. Me eating it for you is saving food.” “Besides, you only gave birth to a useless daughter. What’s the point of eating so well? Whether you supplement or not makes no difference.” Rose walked out of the bathroom wearing my pajamas, staring at the empty plates and swallowing. “Oh my, Ethan, you ate it all? You didn’t leave me any.” Ethan wiped his mouth. “Rose, there’s bone broth in the kitchen. I’ll get it for you.” He actually ran to the kitchen and brought out a bowl of premium bone broth. It was specially prepared by the hospital to replenish my blood and qi. Rose picked up the bowl and frowned in disgust. “What is this stuff? It’s all slimy. Looks disgusting.” Ethan quickly explained. “Rose, this is good stuff!” “Women who eat it get beauty benefits. Hurry and try it.” Rose picked up the spoon and was about to put it in her mouth. The hospital room door suddenly burst open as a chubby kid charged in. “Mommy! I want meat! I want meat!” This was Rose’s three-year-old son, Toby. He slammed into Rose’s legs, nearly knocking over the bone broth. “Oh my precious baby, how did you get in here?” At the door, an old woman with a fierce face, Edna, poked her head in. “The security guards at this hospital are so blind. They wouldn’t let me in. Luckily my clever grandson snuck in when they weren’t looking.” I looked at this whole clan of people and felt my temples throbbing. “Ethan, get them out of here immediately! This is a VIP postpartum suite, not your village marketplace!” Ethan’s face darkened. “You shut up! This is Rose’s mother-in-law. How dare you talk like that?” Toby saw the bone broth in Rose’s hands and immediately reached for it. “I want that! I want it!” Rose quickly handed the bowl over. “Okay, okay, Toby eat it. Eat more to grow tall.” Toby scooped a big spoonful into his mouth. The next second, he spat it all out onto the carpet. “Disgusting! What is this garbage!”

Crash! The porcelain bowl shattered on the floor. I looked at the mess and shouted sternly. “You spoiled brat! Do you have any manners?!” Toby was startled by my voice, then immediately burst into loud tears. “Bad lady yelled at me! Bad lady!” Rose immediately hugged her son protectively and yelled at me. “Summer, what are you doing? You’re an adult picking on a child?” “It’s just a broken bowl! Toby’s a boy—him breaking your bowl brings you good fortune!” Edna also charged forward, pointing at my nose. “That’s right! Our Toby is the only boy in our family. He’s precious!” “You only gave birth to a useless daughter. What right do you have to yell at my grandson?” Not only did Ethan not stop them, he stepped forward. “Summer, apologize to Toby right now. You scared him. If he has nightmares tonight, I won’t let this go!” This was the simple, honest family I once believed in. “Apologize?” “Dream on.” Ethan’s patience seemed completely exhausted as he rushed over and ripped off my blanket. “Fine, you won’t apologize?” “I think you’ve gotten too comfortable in this VIP room and forgotten who you are!” He turned to Rose and Edna. “Rose, Edna, you sleep in this bed tonight.” “This mattress is imported, really soft. Perfect for Toby.” Rose’s eyes lit up as she immediately carried Toby over. “Oh my, how could I?” Despite her words, she’d already plopped down on the edge of the bed. I was horrified, clutching the sheets desperately. “Are you insane? This is my hospital bed!” Ethan grabbed my neck and started dragging me off the bed. “Your hospital bed?” “You’re a useless woman who gave birth to a girl. What business do you have in a VIP room? Go sleep on the benches in the hallway!” I’d just had a C-section five days ago. The wound wasn’t fully healed yet. Being dragged so roughly, a tearing pain shot through my abdomen. I broke out in a cold sweat, my hands desperately clawing at his. “Ethan, this is attempted murder!” Ethan winced but instead of letting go, he pressed me harder to the floor. “Murder? I’m disciplining my disobedient wife!” “If you don’t give up that bed today and pump that milk, I’ll beat you to death!” Rose fanned the flames gleefully from the side. “Ethan, you have to be harsh with women like this.” “If you don’t beat them, they won’t behave. Once you beat them into submission, they’ll know how to serve people.” Edna chimed in. “Exactly! In our village, what woman doesn’t get back to work right after giving birth?” “She’s the only one who’s so delicate, staying in some VIP postpartum suite. Bah!” I hit the cold floor hard. My wound split open. Blood stained my hospital gown. I stared at Ethan with eyes full of hatred. “Ethan, you’re going to regret this.” Ethan looked down at me from above, his eyes full of contempt. “Regret? The biggest regret of my life was marrying you!” “You think you’re something special?” “I’ll tell you the truth—I’ve been sick of your high-and-mighty act for a long time!” “Once you finish postpartum recovery, get the hell out of my house. You leave with nothing!” As he spoke, he raised his foot, about to kick my stomach. Rose shouted excitedly from the side. “Kick her! Teach her a lesson!” Just as Ethan’s foot was about to land in that critical moment— BANG! The heavy solid wood door was kicked off its hinges. The door slammed into the wall with a deafening crash. “Who are you telling to leave with nothing?” Ethan shuddered, his foot frozen in midair. Everyone in the room turned around in terror.

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On my wedding anniversary with my husband, his female friend Heather pointed at Ethan and suddenly said: “Actually, today is a double celebration. I’m pregnant with your child.” I was thunderstruck and immediately demanded an explanation. Ethan just laughed nonchalantly and laid it all out: “We grew up together. Exploring each other’s bodies is perfectly normal. She and I are fuck buddies at most. You’re still my legitimate wife.” Dizzy, I fell down the stairs and tumbled to the ground. A sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen, and blood instantly stained my white dress. I trembled as I pulled out my pregnancy test results: “Ethan, I…” Before I could finish, he interrupted me with a sneer: “What tricks are you playing now? Trying to use a fake pregnancy to make Heather get an abortion?” Heather also covered her mouth and laughed: “Natalie, did your blood pack leak? Your acting is so fake. Everyone knows you’re infertile. Stop pretending.” Lying in a pool of blood, watching him hold someone else, I finally made a decision. I accepted my college classmate’s invitation to study at an overseas research institute.

I don’t know how long I’d been lying in the hospital, but I was awakened by the heavy breathing of a man and woman on the ward’s sofa. “Heather, Natalie’s still lying in the hospital bed. Let’s go somewhere else.” “This is so exciting! Right in front of your own wife…” I slowly opened my eyes. A naked man and woman were entwined together. I trembled with rage, finding it hard to believe. This past year, Ethan had used his supposed germophobia as an excuse, and our intimate moments could be counted on one hand. Even when going through the motions mechanically, he always frowned with disgust, calling me revolting afterward, like a bitch in heat. He’d rush to the bathroom as if trying to scrub off a layer of skin. Listening to Heather’s passionate moans, the last trace of warmth remaining in my heart finally turned cold. Ethan unconsciously glanced at me. Only when he saw me motionless did he relax. “This won’t affect our child, will it?” Heather’s voice was sweet and soft: “I asked the doctor. Both your babies can handle moderate activity…” I touched my flat abdomen, tears streaming down my face. The two of them changed positions several times. After more than ten minutes, they finally finished everything amid gasps and satisfaction. After they left, I struggled to sit up. Seeing the miscarriage report on the table, my whole body began to shake uncontrollably. Ever since my uterus was injured, I’d undergone all kinds of treatments to conceive this child. But ten years of feelings, in Ethan’s eyes, ultimately couldn’t compare to a few of Heather’s fake tears and her lies that twisted the truth. After sitting numbly on the sofa all night, I finally saw things clearly. I picked up my phone and decisively replied to my college classmate’s message: “I agree to the overseas study program you mentioned before. But I have one requirement: keep it completely confidential from my family.” Then I tore the miscarriage report into pieces and threw it in the trash. Someone knocked on the door. Ethan walked in and saw the report in the trash can. “You know everything?” He gently pulled me into his arms: “Natalie, we’ll have another child. Heather’s pregnant, so it’s normal for her to be temperamental. Just bear with it.” Smelling the pungent perfume on him, I suppressed my nausea and pulled away: “What exactly do you take me for? Heather’s a pregnant woman who can’t be wronged, but what about me?” Ethan’s expression instantly darkened: “Stop making a scene, okay?” The weather was hot, but my heart was ice cold. That’s right, in Ethan’s view, when guests at the family banquet drowned my dog and I demanded justice, I was “making a scene”; when my intimate photos were spread by Heather and I warned her, I was “making a scene”; when I nearly died in difficult labor and interrupted his date with Heather to sign critical condition forms, that was also “making a scene.” I stared straight into his eyes, trying to find traces of the Ethan who had personally decorated the nursery during my first pregnancy, who had stayed up all night choosing names for the child. But meeting his gaze, I saw only cold ice in Ethan’s eyes. I pulled at the corner of my mouth and spoke hoarsely: “Let’s divorce, Ethan.”

“You and your mother both need my money to live. Natalie, don’t joke around.” Ethan frowned at me, his attitude still superior: “Besides, with my status…” “Ethan, stop wasting time on her.” Heather interrupted our conversation, linking her arm with Ethan’s and acting coquettish: “Today’s the third-week anniversary of my pregnancy. The fireworks show is about to start. Let’s go watch!” The irritation in the man’s eyes instantly vanished. His lips curved upward as he walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window with Heather: “Be careful, don’t hurt the baby.” “The fireworks show was specially prepared for you. I dare anyone to start without you!” I watched the brilliant fireworks in the sky, feeling somewhat dazed. Years ago, on the night Ethan confessed to me, he couldn’t even afford a decent bouquet of roses. He only held a few cheap sparklers, clumsily lighting them for me. His face was red then, but his eyes were incredibly sincere: “I’ll definitely give you the best life in the future. I’ll give you the biggest fireworks show.” But now we had everything—money, power, everything except love. He could give Heather and the child in her belly a spectacular fireworks display, but he wouldn’t spare me even a word of concern. As the fireworks faded, people in the hospital corridor exclaimed in amazement: “Mrs. Evans is so blessed! Even her pregnancy gets celebrated with a million-dollar fireworks show!” “I heard she’s been accompanied throughout her conception planning and prenatal checkups by Mr. Evans himself, afraid something might go wrong!” Hearing these words, I felt like I’d fallen into an ice cave, trembling all over. So Heather’s pregnancy wasn’t an accident at all! He’d even indulged her in replacing me as Mrs. Evans in front of others, all to give Heather’s child legitimacy. “Crash!” Behind me came the sound of breaking glass. Heather grabbed my arm, sobbing: “Natalie, I accidentally broke your photo frame. Sorry.” My body stiffened imperceptibly. The photo in that frame was the only picture of my grandmother and me before she passed. Even the frame itself was a birthday gift my grandmother had carved for me. Ethan couldn’t possibly not know this. Anger surged in my heart as I shook off the woman’s hand: “Pick it up, clean it, and give it back to me!” But when Heather bent down while clutching her belly, Ethan swiftly picked up the frame and threw it at my head: “Natalie, I thought you’d be sensible, but I didn’t expect you to be so vicious!” Vicious? I laughed out loud. Going to checkups alone, letting outsiders replace my identity as Mrs. Evans, deliberately smashing my grandmother’s keepsake—facing all this differential treatment, Ethan could still call me vicious. Blood from my forehead mixed with tears. I couldn’t help but mock myself: “Ethan, in your eyes, my repeated forbearance is vicious, but Heather causing my miscarriage is just an accident. Don’t you find that absurd?” Ethan’s chest heaved violently. Then Heather said tearfully: “Don’t be angry with Natalie. She just lost her child, so it’s normal for her to be temperamental!” She pushed the man toward the door: “After all, this is between Natalie and me. Let us resolve it ourselves! Besides, don’t you need to handle Natalie’s discharge procedures? Hurry up.” Ethan instructed with concern: “Be careful then, don’t hurt the baby.” After the man left, Heather no longer concealed the malice in her eyes: “Ethan and I have been like two peas in a pod since childhood. Our bond naturally runs deeper than yours. Once I give birth to this child, how much longer do you think you can stay by his side?” Facing her low-level provocation, I didn’t react impulsively as I used to. I just silently picked up the photo from the floor: “He’s just garbage. If you want him, take him. But Heather, stolen goods will never truly be yours!” Perhaps she’d never seen me so sharp before. She stood dazed for a long time. Seeing me walk out of the ward, she finally shouted in exasperation: “Natalie, you just wait!” I left the hospital directly and pulled out my phone to message the divorce attorney: “I’ve sent the evidence of infidelity to your email. Make sure to check it.” After sending the message, I returned to the villa to pack my luggage. But the moment I walked out the villa’s front door, bodyguards blocked my way.

Ethan was furious: “Heather had a miscarriage. Did you do it!” Before I could answer, he angrily grabbed my throat: “Who else but you couldn’t tolerate the child in her belly!” I was confused: “Ethan, what are you talking about? I…” He slapped me across the face. Looking into each other’s eyes, only shocking ferocity remained in Ethan’s: “Heather is delicate. You must apologize to her in person!” He turned to the bodyguards and commanded sharply: “Take Natalie to the hospital!” Already weak, I couldn’t resist the bodyguards’ restraint. By the time we reached the hospital, Heather was watching me with a victor’s gaze: “Ethan, I lost my child. A simple apology won’t make this go away!” I forced myself to stand, the sharp pain in my abdomen making me stagger. Ethan instinctively stepped forward: “Are you uncomfortable?” Then, thinking better of it, he looked at me with disgust: “Trying to play weak to avoid punishment? Kneel and apologize to Heather!” My heart turned completely cold: “I won’t admit to something I didn’t do!” Heather’s provocative expression intensified: “Fine, since Natalie won’t apologize, let’s have her mother from the nursing home kneel and beg for my forgiveness. Ethan, like mother like daughter! We need to solve this problem at its root!” Hearing her threaten to use my mother to make me submit, I couldn’t take it anymore and lunged forward to grab her throat: “She knows nothing about this. Don’t drag my mother into this!” The next second, Ethan violently pushed me away: “Have you lost your mind, Natalie? I told you to apologize to teach you a lesson, not to escalate your attacks on Heather!” I crashed heavily onto the floor, every bone radiating dense pain. “Go bring Natalie’s mother here!” My heart seized with panic. Looking up, I saw Heather’s increasingly smug expression. My eyes reddened: “My mother is my only family. You can’t touch her!” To break free from restraint, I bit down on Heather’s arm. Ethan was livid and flung me three meters away: “Natalie, will you ever stop!” I flew straight into the window, countless glass shards piercing my skin. Ethan instinctively took a step forward, but Heather rushed over to help me first: “When that old hag arrives, guess how I’ll torture her?” My heart raced with panic: “My mom is old. She can’t take any harm!” In my panic, I grabbed a fruit knife nearby and rushed at Heather. “Ah! Help!” Unexpectedly, Ethan blocked the woman. The bodyguards pinned me firmly to the ground. “I’ve been more than generous with you. What has Heather ever done to you? Look at yourself—you’re like a shrew!” Ethan’s eyes turned red with anger, pointing at my nose and roaring. But all I could think about was my mother’s uncertain fate. I cried my heart out: “I’ll apologize! Just don’t touch my mother, and I’ll kneel and apologize!”

And so, I knelt at the hospital room door, slapping myself over and over, saying “I’m sorry” repeatedly. People came and went through the corridor, excitedly watching the spectacle. My forehead kept hitting the marble floor, quickly becoming bloody. A flash of shock crossed Ethan’s eyes. He instinctively moved to pull me up. But Heather covered her nose in disgust: “Ethan, I just had a miscarriage and can’t stand the smell of blood. Make her get away!” Ethan hesitated for a moment, then issued his command: “She’s gone mad. Lock her and her mother in the private apartment to clear their heads!” Supporting my weak body, I was pushed into a dark room. My mother was curled up in a corner. My heart ached as I slowly pulled my mother into my arms: “Mom, don’t scare me. Open your eyes and look at me…” Seeing me, tears filled my mother’s eyes. Her aged hand caressed my cheek: “Natalie, leave him. I can’t burden you anymore.” Then, with a blade she’d found somewhere, she slashed her wrist. Blood gushed out. “No!” The person in my arms stopped breathing. I couldn’t help but scream loudly, my face full of hatred and despair, tears streaming down, nearly collapsing: “I’ll do whatever you say, Mom! Wake up!” Then Ethan knocked on the door: “What’s going on?” I screamed in agony: “I’m going to kill Heather! That murderer!” “So cold… Ethan, let’s go back to the hospital!” The woman fell into the man’s embrace, urging softly. Ethan’s eyes showed complex emotions as he instructed the bodyguards: “It’s cold at night. Turn up the bedroom temperature. Natalie just had a miscarriage and can’t handle the cold.” Heather shot a vicious look at the bodyguards. The bodyguard at the door immediately complied. The heat suddenly intensified. Sweat soaked through my clothes. When I smelled the rotting odor from my mother’s body, I completely broke down, pounding on the iron door with all my strength: “Let us out! Ethan, there’s something wrong with this air conditioning!” As my vision began to darken, my knees were scraped raw, and my whole body felt like the skin had been peeled off. In my ears was Ethan’s final warning: “Natalie, I’ll let you out when you’ve learned your lesson. Heather lost her child. You need to suffer before she’ll be satisfied.” I curled up, my whole body paralyzed by the heat on the floor. I used my last bit of consciousness to speak: “Ethan…” Before completely losing consciousness, I fell into a strong, powerful embrace. A man’s voice was low: “Go investigate everything that happened today thoroughly!” Meanwhile, when Ethan was taking Heather to the hospital for a checkup, he saw breaking news on the lobby screen. The video showed the apartment where Natalie was locked had suddenly exploded. Then dozens of charred bodies were carried out. Ethan suddenly saw the wedding ring he’d given Natalie now on one of the charred corpses! Countless strings seemed to snap in his mind. Panic swept through his entire body: “No way… Natalie has always been lucky. It can’t be such a coincidence!” He scrambled to the explosion site and grabbed a police officer’s arm: “My wife is still inside the apartment. Have all these victims been identified?” The medical examiner removed his mask: “You’re Natalie’s family, right? If nothing unexpected, her body is in the first-floor lobby.”

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