Category: English

My husband, a pilot, had to work on New Year’s Eve. So I decided to surprise him, secretly booking tickets for me and our daughter on his flight. In business class, our daughter hugged her doll and asked brightly, “Mommy, can I go see Daddy fly the plane?” Before I could answer, the woman in the next seat laughed. “Is the little one’s dad a pilot?” I nodded. “What a coincidence! My husband’s a pilot too,” she said, beaming. “But he’s an ace captain. Promoted ahead of everyone, even though he’s so young!” Looking at her proud expression, I offered a small smile. “My husband works hard, too. He’s finally earned his position.” A few moments later, my husband’s deep, steady voice came over the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking…” A warmth spread through my chest, but then the woman leaned closer. “That’s my husband,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Doesn’t he have a wonderful voice?” My entire body went rigid. The woman then casually flicked her wrist, showing off a luxury watch. “He felt so bad he couldn’t be with me on New Year’s, so he spent all of last night making it up to me. He gave me this and insisted I fly with him today to keep him company.” My eyes locked on the watch. I recognized it instantly. It was the promotion gift I’d given my husband just two days ago…

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Under a video of me selling stir-fried rice from my street stall, a scathing comment went viral: [She dumped her poor boyfriend for a rich one back then, only to find out the poor boyfriend was the Crown Prince of the capital. That gold-digger must be fuming, huh?] I replied: [Oh yes, furious, can’t sleep. Do you know him? Could you put in a good word for me?] That very night, someone trashed my stall. As I was cleaning up the mess, a pair of gleaming leather shoes stopped in front of me. I looked up. It was my “poor” ex-boyfriend, Brandon Fitzgerald. 1. It wasn’t that I hadn’t imagined a reunion with Brandon. But I certainly hadn’t pictured myself looking this dishevelled. Brandon was dressed in a bespoke suit, the aura of power radiating from him, an inherent authority in his gaze. Our eyes met, and he indifferently shifted his focus, then spoke, “Manager Hayes.” His voice was unhurried, yet carried a heavy, palpable pressure. “When did the company entrance turn into a marketplace?” A man, wiping cold sweat from his brow, rushed forward. He kicked aside the scattered cooking pots, grumbling, “Who allowed you to set up a stall in front of the company! Clean this up immediately!” “Be careful, I’ll have the city wardens fine you to death.” A rag was flung at me, carrying a sour smell. Brandon’s expression remained unchanged; he didn’t even twitch an eyelid. I couldn’t afford the fine. I squatted down, picked up the rag, and gently wiped the ground, kneeling. As I wiped near Brandon’s feet, his fingers seemed to curl slightly. For a moment, I thought he might pull me up. My eyes must have deceived me. He remained standing ramrod straight, aloof and distant, keeping everyone at arm’s length. A surprised voice rang out from behind him. “Is that… Emily?” A brightly dressed woman stepped forward, covering her mouth in disbelief. “Oh my god, it really is you.” “Didn’t you emigrate with your rich boyfriend? How… how did you end up like this?” It was my high school classmate, Sarah Evans. I hadn’t expected her to be working at the same company as Brandon. Now, she was impeccably groomed down to her hair, standing shoulder to shoulder with Brandon, a picture of a perfect couple. “Don’t bother cleaning, you’re a top university graduate, you shouldn’t be doing this kind of work.” She quickly pulled me up, intimately linking her arm through mine, and told Manager Hayes, “Manager Hayes, could you please ask the cleaning staff to work overtime?” “This is an old classmate of mine and Brandon’s. She used to be even better at academics than me.” Manager Hayes was shrewd. He masked his surprise and stepped forward, apologizing with a flattering smile. Sarah’s face was full of concern. “Emily, let’s find somewhere to catch up.” “Back then, you just left with that rich boyfriend without a word. Everyone thought you were living the good life abroad and didn’t want to disturb you.” “What exactly happened? How… how are you selling stir-fried rice?” “Look at your hands, they’re so rough! Your down jacket is shedding feathers, how can you even wear that!” She had manicured, meticulously cared-for hands, long and pale, which made my swollen, frostbitten hands look like ugly carrots. But before, Brandon used to say I had natural pianist’s hands. I knew Sarah wanted to embarrass me. But it didn’t matter anymore. My tone was calm. “We broke up.” Sarah subtly glanced at Brandon. Seeing his indifference, a flicker of glee crossed her eyes, but her face showed regret as she comforted me. “It’s alright. We’ll just live steadily from now on.” “As classmates, we’ll definitely help where we can.” “Brandon, doesn’t facilities need a cleaner?” Brandon looked at her and said coldly, “Sarah, it’s time to go.” Sarah winked playfully. “Brandon, why don’t you go ahead and wait for me in the car? I’ll be right there.” Brandon said nothing, stepping down the stairs. His gaze was cool and directed straight ahead, never once straying towards me. As he passed, only the sleeve of his overcoat brushed imperceptibly against the back of my hand. My fingertips suddenly trembled, as if uncontrollably trying to catch that breath of wind. But it was an empty grasp. He didn’t stop. A bottle of mineral water suddenly splashed onto my face. “Emily Smith, how dare you try to seduce Brandon Fitzgerald?” 2. The icy water droplets dripped down my loose hair. With the crowd dispersing, Sarah dropped her act, her eyes blazing with undisguised mockery and resentment. “What? Are you deliberately putting on a pathetic show here, hoping to make Brandon feel soft? What a dream!” “You dumped him for that rich boyfriend back then, and he went crazy, searching the whole world for you.” “He dropped out of school, abandoned his projects. The moment he heard anyone might have seen you somewhere, he’d rush off without a second thought, completely dazed, he even fell onto the tracks and almost got run over.” “Someone like you actually thinks he’d still have feelings for you? He said it himself, you’re the person he hates most. “Did you see him even glance at you just now? He doesn’t even want to mention you, because you disgust him.” Her voice was unnaturally clear in the night, like thumbtacks, pressing one by one into my heart. But my chest felt numb, like rotting flesh, incapable of feeling pain. The phrase “he hates you most” echoed endlessly in my mind. Let him hate me. It didn’t seem to matter much. I wiped the water from my face and pushed my cart, intending to leave. Sarah placed a foot on the cart, sneering, “Running away, old classmate? “You’re so desperate to act trashy, so I have to give you a big gift in return. Look at this, what is it?” Sarah raised her right hand, revealing a diamond engagement ring the size of a pigeon’s egg. “Brandon and I are getting married. As old classmates, I’ll send you an invitation.” “But we’re getting married in Bali, and flights and hotels aren’t cheap. With your income, tsk, a round trip would mean frying rice for several years. I won’t put you through that, after all, our levels are different.” “So, please get lost and don’t even think about pursuing Brandon, otherwise—” Her lips curled upwards, and she slapped the partitioned containers off my cart, scattering ham and cured meat all over the ground. “Emily Smith, I couldn’t beat you in school, but now, I can easily crush you.” She crushed the meat and vegetables on the ground with her heel, her voice triumphant. “Security, keep an eye on this person. Drive her away every time she shows up.” “Don’t let any trash sit in front of the company.” “Ugh, Brandon will have to buy me another pair of lambskin shoes. These are dirty now.” She sashayed away, leaving behind the mangled meat and vegetables. I stood silently in the wind for a few seconds. Then, I squatted down to pick up the meal containers and any edible pieces of meat and vegetables. I didn’t have much money left; I couldn’t afford to waste food. A black Maybach drove past me, its dark shadow enveloping me. The rear window was halfway down, and in the shifting light and shadow, Brandon’s face was clearly visible. Sarah clung to his arm, cooing something. He turned his head to respond, his gaze inadvertently sweeping over my face, like looking at an unimportant stranger, indifferent and unfamiliar. The car’s lights faded into the distance, merging with the bustling city. I picked up the last piece of cured meat and prepared to go home. A security guard came over and quietly said, “Don’t take it to heart, miss. It’s hard to be the boss.” “But they usually don’t bother street vendors. Did you upset them?” Upset them? The night wind dried my dripping hair. Yes, I had. In high school, Sarah liked Brandon, but Brandon only had eyes for me. Now, the tables had turned. She should be satisfied. Was Brandon relieved too? 3. When I met Brandon, his name was still Nathan. He was a high school student. His parents had killed each other in an argument, and his relatives divided up their belongings, all calling him a bastard and refusing to take him in. On a freezing winter night, he stood on the street in a worn down jacket, with nowhere to go. His cool, distant eyes held a hint of a breakdown on the verge, as if he would shatter with the slightest touch. That day, I happened to be helping at my dad’s small food stall and saw him, on the brink of breaking. My heart softened. I ran over, asking for his help in an exaggerated tone. “My dad’s new stir-fried rice is terrible, but he insists it’s delicious. Could you try a bite and help me judge?” He looked at me, startled, then after a moment, slowly nodded. After that, he became a part of our little food stall family, studying under the lamp, tutoring me with my homework, helping my parents out, becoming one of us. I loved the clean, fresh scent of soap on him, I loved his cool, quiet tone, I loved the way his eyes would drop when he looked at me. A young girl’s affections bloomed wildly in my heart. The night after our final exams, a girl confessed to him. His smile was gentle, and I thought he’d accepted. My heart felt like it had fallen into a vat of vinegar, so sour I couldn’t speak, so I ran off to a karaoke bar to sing love songs. When he found me, I was singing “The one who loves you most is me~,” tears and snot flowing. He laughed helplessly, pulling me home. I refused, pouting, “You’re someone else’s boyfriend now, why are you still bothering with me? Don’t you have any boundaries?” He instantly guessed what was going on, and exasperated, flicked my forehead. “What’s your mouth for? Can’t you even verify things?” I stared at him blankly. He looked at me evenly, and said seriously, “I turned her down. I have someone I like.” Under the moonlight, his eyes shone like stars, making my heart pound. “Who?” I asked, burying my head. “Who do you think?” He laughed wryly. I guessed the answer. It felt like fireworks exploded in my heart, but my mouth remained stubborn. “I don’t know.” A soft kiss landed on my lips. “Do you know now?” That night, my face burned red. Holding his hand, under the hazy moonlight, I kissed him awkwardly and greedily. I felt as happy as if I owned the whole world. And I believed we would always be this happy, forever. Until an ordinary afternoon, a distinguished lady knocked on our door, presenting a paternity test report. We then learned that Nathan, now Brandon, was the lost young master of the wealthy Fitzgerald family in the capital. She pushed a bank card towards us. “Five million. That’s enough to cover your family’s expenses for Brandon over the years. From now on, cut ties.” My dad angrily threw the card back, saying we didn’t take Nathan in for money, and we wouldn’t abandon a family member for money. Mrs. Fitzgerald smiled composedly. “I’m doing this for your daughter’s good too.” She looked at me, her gaze frank. “Brandon doesn’t know about this yet. We’re observing him to see if he qualifies to return to the Fitzgerald family. He’s excellent in every aspect, except for you as his girlfriend.” “I wouldn’t mind leaving him as a gold nugget buried in the dirt, or even using certain means to ensure he never rises. But if he one day learned the truth, do you think he would hate you? Our home fell into a dead silence. My mom wanted to call Brandon, but my dad wouldn’t let her. That year, Brandon was in his final year of college. He’d given up his graduate school spot to start a business with some friends, and they were in a critical phase of their project. “We can’t ruin him,” my dad said, stubbing out a cigarette, making his decision. “I’ll sell the stall, and we’ll move.” I refused, every cell in my body resisting leaving. He was the boy I loved with all my heart; how could I bear to let go? How could I bear to let him experience the pain of abandonment again? He would go mad. I argued with my dad. “I’m not leaving! Why should I break up with Brandon just because of a few words from her?” “I’m going to tell Brandon; he has a right to know.” My dad slapped my phone out of my hand, demanding, “Do you really want him to hate us for life? And is that kind of family one we can marry into? Marrying up is like swallowing needles.” “You have to listen to me on this. Break up with Brandon, and don’t contact him again.” “Impossible!” I stared into my dad’s eyes, red-rimmed. “As long as Brandon doesn’t break up, I’ll be with him even if the sky falls!” “This is between Nathan and me. You don’t need to meddle!” “Smack!” A slap landed on my face. It was the first time my dad had ever hit me, and his whole hand was trembling. That night, I stormed out of the house in a fit of pique, took a cab to the train station. I was going to the capital; at least Brandon should have a choice. But before I could reach Brandon on the phone, the hospital called first. They said my dad was in a car accident. On his way to find me, he was run over by an out-of-control truck. He died instantly. 4. But fate’s punishment didn’t cease with my remorse. In the morgue, seeing my father’s broken body, my mother suffered a heart attack out of grief and was admitted to the ICU. Our meager family savings were no match for this bottomless pit. I sat on the bench outside the emergency room, terrified and desperate, my mind filled with the thought that I was to blame. Brandon’s mother appeared at that moment. With just one sentence, she arranged for the nation’s top heart specialist to treat my mother. The medical expenses that were crushing me were merely a few casual figures in her mouth. My mom was saved, but due to the immense shock, she developed mental health issues. One moment, she’d be holding me, calling me “Emily,” the next she’d smash a teapot over my head, cursing me as a “jinx,” saying I killed my dad, asking why I didn’t just die. Mrs. Fitzgerald looked at me with pity. “Do you want to continue?” “You see, even heaven doesn’t approve of you two being together.” Before, I would have certainly jumped up and cursed her. But the overwhelming self-reproach and internal struggle had drained all my strength. I couldn’t even summon hatred for her. I only hated myself; hated my willfulness, my impulsiveness, and even hated that I fell in love with Brandon. “Let me show you Brandon. He’s been busy with a joint project lately. You haven’t seen him in days, have you?” She opened a video. In the video, Brandon, wearing a white lab coat, was intently discussing something with a girl. A person I knew down to the last hair, yet in that moment, he felt as foreign as if I had never known him. “This girl is Brandon’s classmate, and also the heir to a company. “Even the most soul-matched lovers, at least need to understand what the other is saying. Emily, can you understand?” I couldn’t understand. They were speaking English, yet it sounded like gibberish to me. How could I be so stupid! “You don’t need to worry about your mother’s medical expenses.” “But your studies will probably have to stop for a while. However, I will give you enough money so you’ll never lack food or clothing.” She picked up my phone. “Call Brandon.” “Of course, you can refuse me, but your mother’s medical care will stop tonight.” She was threatening me, yet she was my only lifeline. The call connected, and Brandon’s gentle, joyful voice almost shattered me. He eagerly shared his latest achievements with me, what he had discovered, what breakthroughs he had made… In the past, I would always enthusiastically react, showering him with praise until he blushed. But at that moment, I had a splitting headache and just wanted to go crazy. I couldn’t understand, not a single word. “Stop talking! Let’s break up.” The joyful voice came to an abrupt halt, then he laughed lightly. “Let me guess, what day is it today? April Fool’s?” “Nathan, I’m serious.” A long silence, so long I thought the call had disconnected, before he finally asked, his voice raspy, “Did I do something wrong to upset you?” “Is it because I’ve been busy with projects lately and haven’t spent enough time with you? I’ll come back right now.” “Emily, I can change anything you don’t like. Don’t say break up, please?” My fingernails almost dug into my palms. My whole body felt like it was being ground by a blunt knife, aching to the point of breaking, but when I spoke, it was with forced ease: “It’s not your fault, I just got tired of it.” “To be honest, there’s a rich guy at school pursuing me. He offered five million for my whole family to go on vacation, and said he could help us emigrate.” “Dating anyone is dating, why would I stay with a poor guy like you?” Brandon’s breath hitched, and he pleaded earnestly, “I’ll earn five million, just wait for me, okay?” “I know I can’t give you a wealthy life right now, but I’ll work tirelessly. In less than three years, I promise I’ll hand you five million.” “So please don’t break up, don’t go with him, okay?” He begged desperately, almost abandoning all his pride. He was on the verge of shattering. I was on the verge of dying. But I had no path left. “What if you can earn five million?” I retorted with extreme sarcasm. “Yes, you’re brilliant, you have boundless potential, but can you really compete with generations of family wealth?” “For the sake of my family raising you, don’t hold me back from a good life.” Ignoring his near-broken cries, I quickly hung up the phone. One more second, and I was afraid I would break down, go crazy, lose my mind and tell him everything in tears, crying out for a hug. But I couldn’t. I curled up on the floor, my whole body aching as if my bones were being pulled apart. Clutching my chest, I cried until I was almost suffocating, so pathetic that even Brandon’s mother didn’t mock me further. She stroked my head. “If it weren’t for the complications, I’d quite like you.” “Bright and innocent, like a little sun. But these are useless qualities in an elite family.” “I’ll arrange for you to leave; accommodation and hospital care are all set.” “You should go soon.” She tossed my phone into a fish tank, then handed me a new one. “Your phone is broken. Use this one from now on; I’ve already arranged the SIM card for you.” Like the phone drowning in water, I could no longer contact the outside world. After that day, I completely lost touch with Brandon. The feelings I thought were monumental were gradually worn away by my mother’s daily scolding, turning into wounds, resentment, and illness. I poured out the last few pills from the bottle and swallowed them all at once. 5. The bad reviews escalated. Overnight, netizens dug up the identity of the “poor boyfriend.” Brandon Fitzgerald, heir to the capital’s Fitzgerald family and CEO of Sterling Group. Netizens, like hungry beasts, tagged me relentlessly. [Gold-digger, you’re selling stir-fried rice outside Sterling’s office, are you trying to get back with him?] [Please, just uninstall the dating app. Getting back together isn’t for a gold-digging B like you.] [I’m a Sterling employee. Last night, the gold-digger’s stall got trashed. Our CEO just walked past, didn’t even glance at her, and got straight into his Maybach.] [Could the gold-digger have hired people to trash it herself? LOL, our CEO has a fiancée, you know!] It had been a long time since so many people talked to me. My spirits lifted, and I replied to each comment: [What’s embarrassing about it? Is there anything wrong with bravely pursuing love?] [Your CEO isn’t avoiding looking at me; he’s afraid to, afraid of falling for me again.] [So what if he has a fiancée? As long as they’re not married, I still have a chance, don’t I?] The netizens exploded, filling the comments with insults, calling me shameless, and even tagging his fiancée, Sarah Evans. Sarah quickly replied: [Sorry for the trouble, everyone. Life is tough, just trying to grab some traffic. Think of it as entertainment for you all.] [However, if you defame our CEO, our legal department will pursue it~] I turned off my phone, laughing and rolling around on the bed. Dr. Lee said I needed to talk to people more, better to be carefree than to overthink, otherwise I’d get sick, and then I’d need medicine. But I found that netizens were more effective than medicine. I could say anything, and hundreds, even thousands, of people would respond to me. Besides them, who else would talk to me like this, coax me into happiness? My pots and pans were smashed, so I couldn’t set up my stall for now. But rent was due soon. I pulled on my yellow waterproof jacket, hopped on my scooter, and went to deliver food. Five consecutive orders were all from Sterling Group. I couldn’t refuse them; I’d be fined. Thanks to the delivery job, I entered Sterling, sharing an elevator with the corporate elite. The floor numbers flashed rapidly, and my thoughts were restless too. If I hadn’t dropped out, I’d probably be working in a place like this now. I went to a top university too. In a daze, I wasn’t paying attention and missed my floor. And it was lunchtime, so several elevators were crowded. Only the elevator outside the side door was empty. Without thinking, I ran over, frantically pushing the button. The elevator doors opened, and I rushed inside. Two men in suits reached out to stop me. “This is a private elevator. Please use…” I brazenly pleaded, “Please, my delivery is almost overdue, I don’t want to be fined…” They tried to push me out, but a cold, stern voice came from behind. “Let her in.” The man in the suit stepped aside. Only then did I see that standing at the very back was Brandon Fitzgerald. He wore gold-rimmed glasses, and behind the lenses, a pair of eyes stared coldly at me.

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My mother was forced into a divorce. The woman who destroyed our family was my aunt. My mother, who only wanted to keep her child, was coerced into leaving with nothing. On the day of the court hearing, in front of everyone, I announced that I would live with my father. I was twelve years old. My revenge was just beginning. 1 The woman who clawed her way to the top was my mother’s own sister, Isabelle. She was only twenty-six then, with a stunning face and a body that moved with a dancer’s grace. Her eyes held a sly, fox-like charm. A woman like that should have been married, but she wasn’t. The most likely reason was the little girl always at her side—my cousin, whose father was a mystery. My grandparents had worried themselves sick over her. On their deathbeds, they made my mother promise to always look after her “immature” little sister. My mother, honoring their final wish, took Isabelle in, only for Isabelle to crawl into my father’s bed. My mother, a woman of gentle and refined character, couldn’t bear the sight. The betrayal shattered her, and she fell ill. I can still see Isabelle’s tear-streaked face at my mother’s bedside, a pathetic performance of remorse. “Eleanor, I couldn’t help it… I truly couldn’t,” she sobbed. “And… Richard and I… we’ve had feelings for each other for years.” Then, the final blow: “Besides, this isn’t the first time he’s strayed.” A paternity test obliterated the last vestiges of love my mother held for my father. It turned out that my cousin, the girl with the unknown father, was my own half-sister. The double betrayal from her husband and her sister was too much. My mother’s health collapsed. Isabelle was still Isabelle, but I could finally see the wolf hiding beneath the sheep’s clothing. In that moment, it felt as though I grew up overnight. That summer, Isabelle was a constant presence, always weeping, begging my mother to “think of the children” and not make a scene. My mother, believing there might still be a shred of decency in her, considered settling things quietly for my sake. But that wasn’t what Isabelle had in mind. “Just divorce him, Eleanor,” she said, her tone suddenly devoid of tears. “Your daughter has had ten years of a happy family. Isn’t it my Sophie’s turn?” “Sophie, darling, go ask your auntie.” She pushed my five-year-old cousin toward the bed. “Auntie Eleanor, please,” Sophie whimpered, her performance as flawless as her mother’s. “You already have Hope. Can’t you please give me my daddy back?” She even managed to squeeze out real tears. Shameless. Utterly shameless. 2 My mother was cornered, and the shameless vulture knew it. Isabelle quit the job my mother had found for her and moved into our house, refusing to leave until she got what she wanted. “The child is here,” she’d declare, shoving Sophie forward. “Do what you want with us.” “Auntie, please don’t hurt me,” Sophie would wail, her eyes like faucets she could turn on at will. The house filled with the constant noise of a child’s crying and my aunt’s histrionics. It was suffocating. Under this constant assault, my mother’s spirit began to crumble. In the days that followed, I overheard her arguments with my father. The ugly truths they screamed at each other painted a filthy picture of the adult world. Sleep became impossible. I’d wander the halls of our old family mansion at night, a ghost in my own home. My father’s family had been in business for generations, and by his time, we were wealthy. My parents had lived in this house, inherited from my grandparents, since their marriage. It was a beautiful old place, and my father was sentimental about it. When parts of the woodwork began to decay, he’d sooner seal off a room than have it replaced. “This house holds all my childhood memories,” he used to say. “Tearing it down would destroy the soul of this place.” He was a man who cherished the past, and he had always been tender and devoted to my mother. I once dreamed of marrying a man just like him. But with the rose-tinted glasses shattered, the real man was uglier than I could have imagined. One night, I saw him sitting alone at the bar downstairs, nursing a drink. The past few days had aged him. “Richard, why are you still up?” A soft, feminine voice drifted from the shadows. It was her. Isabelle, draped in a pale green silk nightgown, stretched languidly in the dim light, a picture of seductive grace. “Can’t sleep. Care to join me for a drink?” she purred, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a delicate glass in the other. Years later, I would often wonder how my father fell for her trap. The only answer I could ever come to was human weakness. The more focused a person is, the more susceptible they are to distraction. There is no such thing as absolute rationality, especially when temptation is dangled so perfectly. Never fight a battle against human nature. You will always lose. 3 After Sophie’s parentage was revealed, Isabelle moved in for good. My mother grew paler each day, but all she could do was cry. Isabelle, with terrifying speed, put down roots. She replaced the maids and the driver. By the time my mother realized what was happening, she was completely isolated. My father, likely tired of the fighting, retreated to his office, leaving my mother and me alone to face the siege. At the dinner table, Isabelle and Sophie acted like the true mistresses of the house, even taking my mother’s and my seats. “What do you want from me?” my mother finally whispered, her spirit broken. Isabelle just smiled. “I only want a better life for Sophie, Eleanor. You’re a mother. Surely you understand.” Her fox-like eyes twinkled, but there was a coldness in them that was terrifying. The invasion wasn’t limited to my mother. Sophie began her own subtle campaign against me. She decided she liked my room and simply moved in, insisting we share it. After dinner, she would make a show of calling my father’s office, only to hang up abruptly the moment I walked in. “You know, Hope,” she’d say, her voice dripping with false sweetness, “I was always so jealous of you. Every time I visited Grandma’s, you had a new dress.” “I used to wish you’d grow up faster, so I could have your hand-me-downs.” She held up a long, floral dress. “But now, I get new clothes too.” It was my size. Her behavior was bizarre and unsettling, a constant, low-level torture. Finally, my mother couldn’t take it anymore. She sat Isabelle down and demanded to know what it would take for her to leave. I expected a screaming match, a final, ugly confrontation. But what happened next shocked me. “I’m leaving this afternoon. I’ve already bought the tickets,” Isabelle said, her voice crisp and final. My mother was stunned. So was I. “Take care of yourself, Eleanor,” she added. “Are you really…” “Yes. I’m a woman of my word. You couldn’t drag me back here if you begged.” The next day, she and Sophie were gone. It all happened so fast, and the relief was intoxicating. “Hope, darling,” my mother said, her smile weak but genuine. “It’s over now. Everything that happened… it’s in the past.” The past few months had been a nightmare. An autumn breeze blew in through the open window, carrying a chill. The potted plant Isabelle had brought as a gift had grown, its leaves swaying in the wind. Would she really leave so easily? My question was answered three days later. My father, who had been avoiding the house for weeks, came home. He came home to fight with my mother. It turned out Isabelle had filed an anonymous tip with the SEC. “Do you have any idea how much trouble I’m in?” he roared. “If my friend on the inside hadn’t warned me, I’d be ruined! Can you just stay away from your sister? All you do is cause problems!” He was genuinely terrified. So terrified that he’d completely forgotten why Isabelle had come to our house in the first place. Defeated, my mother called her. Isabelle didn’t answer all day. Late that night, the phone finally rang. “You were looking for me, Eleanor?” “What do you want, Isabelle? Where are you? Let’s just talk this out.” “So you’re asking me to come back? Is that it? Fine. Then we do this on my terms. A divorce. You get to keep your child. Nothing else.” Compared to my mother’s strained, anxious voice, Isabelle’s was light and airy. In the dead of night, it sounded otherworldly, like a death sentence whispered by a demon. It was the sound of my mother suffocating. 4 The result was exactly what Isabelle had demanded: a divorce. My mother left with nothing. My father, in a magnanimous gesture, said my mother could take me with her. He understood the bond between a mother and child, he said. Left with nothing? Even at my age, I understood what that meant. Isabelle wanted my mother out on the street, without a penny of the family fortune that was rightfully half hers. My mother could have sued, could have charged my father with bigamy, but she didn’t want me to have a father with a criminal record. She chose to endure it. I begged her to fight. I didn’t care about my father’s reputation. But she insisted I was too young to understand the consequences. So, at the custody hearing, as the judge made his final ruling, I looked my mother in her shocked, disbelieving eyes and chose my father. I had to protect her. She couldn’t be left destitute. Because she didn’t get custody of me, she was forced to renegotiate the settlement. In the end, she walked away with a small but significant portion of my father’s assets. My courtroom stunt had thrown Isabelle for a loop. Her perfect plan was marred by my sudden defiance. But she recovered quickly. “You can still call me Aunt Isabelle, if you like,” she told me later, a triumphant smile on her face. “Or whatever you prefer.” “In this house, you call people by their proper titles,” my father interjected, already completely under her spell. “Then Hope can call me Mom, just like I do,” Sophie chimed in, her eyes wide and innocent. After my mother left, I saw the full extent of Isabelle’s cunning. When it came to understanding my father, my mother never stood a chance. My mother’s concern was that of a wife; Isabelle’s was that of an employee managing her boss. She could manipulate his moods with ease, making her requests at the perfect moment. She was like the proverbial frog in boiling water, slowly tightening her control. For my father, she provided emotional validation. For me, she provided endless psychological abuse. She would parade their “happy family” in front of me, then mock me viciously the moment my father was out of sight. But I had learned to control myself. When things became unbearable, I would visit my mother. As long as I had her, I could endure anything. For her, I had the courage to persist. Isabelle would grow old. I would grow up. One day, I would be strong enough to protect my mother. With that goal in mind, I threw myself into my studies. I excelled, winning awards and competitions. But it wasn’t long before Isabelle, under the guise of “concern for my health,” began to cut back my extracurricular classes. With no way to pay for them myself, I had to give up the things I loved. Sophie, meanwhile, took my place, becoming the star pupil of my former teachers. Even then, Isabelle worried I was “overworking my brain.” The year I started high school, she took an uncharacteristic interest in my grades. Without my consent, she changed my academic track from humanities, which I loved, to science. “It’s for your own good,” she’d say after every blow, smiling that serene, chilling smile. I watched as faint crow’s feet appeared around her eyes, but the cruelty in them only sharpened with time. I knew she was only holding back because she hadn’t yet secured the ultimate prize. Six months into the school year, I heard the news. “Hope,” Sophie announced, her voice filled with glee. “I’m going to have a baby brother.” This time, she didn’t even bother with the pretense of “we.” It was her brother. I later found out Isabelle was already seven months along. Despite her age, she had been meticulous, and the pregnancy was stable.

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It was eight in the morning, and I sat in our wedding suite, waiting for the groom. But he was nowhere to be found. His mother’s face was ashen. “I’ve been calling him since this morning, but he won’t answer. His father has already driven home to look for him, said he drank too much and can’t be woken up…” Furious, I snatched up my phone and dialed him. After several attempts, it finally connected. “Hello?” His weak voice came through the receiver, heavy with sleep. My heart sank, and I hit the speaker button. “Callum, do you know what day it is today?” “Huh? What day?” I became frantic, shouting into the phone, “It’s our wedding day!” He fell silent for a few seconds, then instantly sobered up. “What? When did we decide to have a wedding?” 1 I was struggling to process it all. My mind was racing: Is there still time for him to get here? But I knew Callum too well. He always took a full hour to get ready before leaving the house, let alone needing to put on a suit and get his hair done today. What if we cut corners? “Callum, quickly take a shower, throw on whatever’s in your closet, and take a cab straight to the hotel.” I thought this was the most reasonable solution, but Callum absolutely exploded. “Seriously, mate, when did we ever say we were having a wedding?” “How come I know nothing about this? Did I agree to it?” “Can you just stop making trouble for no reason?” Me: … I gripped my phone, my hand trembling slightly. For this wedding, I’d slept only four hours a night for a solid month. Yesterday, I’d been busy all day and night, not even stopping for a drink of water. But now, he had me so angry my stomach churned, and I felt nauseous. I retorted, my voice cold, “The engagement is set, the dress is tried on, the reception is booked. And now you’re telling me you don’t know about the wedding?” His tone was utterly matter-of-fact. “Of course, I don’t know! No one told me!” Everyone around exchanged uneasy glances. His mother cautiously asked me, “Chloe… did you really not tell him?” I froze. How could I not have told him? I asked him, “Did I need to send a formal written notice to document the proposal?” Callum, however, sounded completely justified. “Well, how else? Don’t make me roll my eyes, seriously. You’re so unreliable, and you have the nerve to blame me? I’m completely baffled here!” “What’s with this sudden wedding today out of nowhere? I never planned on having one! Are you that desperate to marry me?” My heart turned to ice. But I looked around. The room full of staring relatives and friends, the dazzlingly festive decorations… It felt like I was being roasted alive. Everything was ready, friends and family had cleared their schedules. Many were already sitting at the hotel, eagerly waiting for the reception. And the groom was claiming complete ignorance? I let out a cold laugh. “I get it. You’re not ignorant, you just don’t want to come. You want to run away, don’t you?” Callum heard the disappointment in my voice, sighed, and softened his tone. “Chloe, I was just having morning grumps, said some things I didn’t mean… But think about it. I was gaming with Maya until 4:30 AM. She wanted to play, I couldn’t just leave her, could I? When can’t we get married? Is it really that urgent?” “Come on, don’t be mad, you’ll make yourself sick. Once I wake up, I’ll take you for hot pot, okay?” Me: … Someone nearby whispered. “Who’s Maya?” “I don’t know, never heard of her.” I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down, and gave Callum my ultimatum. “I’m giving you one more hour, tops. If you don’t make it, the wedding is completely off.” Callum neither explicitly refused nor explicitly agreed; he just dodged the issue. “But I’m not even fully awake yet…” A surge of hot blood rushed to my head. I emphasized again, “Be clear. What I mean is, if we don’t get married today, we never will.” Callum was silent for a moment. “Then let’s talk after I wake up.” Then he hung up. 2 I was covered in a cold sweat, trembling with anger. Yet, I felt a crushing powerlessness, as if all the air had been sucked out of me. I wished I could just faint, so I wouldn’t have to deal with this nightmare. But things always needed to be dealt with. I couldn’t break down yet, couldn’t lose control. I looked up at the people around me. Their faces were grim, too. Especially Callum’s parents; they looked like their world had caved in. Clearly, they hadn’t expected their son to be this unreliable. Actually, glimpses of Callum’s personality had surfaced even before the engagement. At the time, his parents and I had arranged everything for the engagement. I told him to prepare his outfit for the day in advance. But he was completely unenthusiastic, gaming with his head down, drawling, “Uh… do I have to go?” I just took it as a joke. After all, he’d gone through the entire engagement, albeit reluctantly, without much complaint. And what happened today was even more bizarre than a nightmare! For a moment, I even wondered if I could find a temporary groom. But this was reality, not some short, feel-good drama. How could I possibly find a suitable replacement on such short notice? Even if I wanted to, no one would agree. What if I hired an actor to go through the motions with me? Forget it… other than collecting the wedding gifts, it would be meaningless. At this point, there was no remedy. My wedding. Completely ruined. 3 I’ve always been strong-willed, clear-headed, and hated letting others see my vulnerable side. So I bit back my tears, striving to keep my voice steady and a smile on my face. “Well, there’s truly nothing we can do. The wedding has to be canceled last minute. Please spread the word.” With that, I opened my contacts, haphazardly called someone, and apologized profusely for the last-minute cancellation. On the surface, I appeared indifferent to the turn of events. In reality, my mind was in turmoil. I couldn’t even remember who I called, or what they said, only focusing on apologizing, apologizing, apologizing. Silence met me from the other end. The entire room was also dead silent. Anticipating gazes were fixed on me, heavy as tons of weight. I braced myself, fighting to keep from breaking down, and quietly waited for a response. Suddenly, the person on the other end asked, “So, when’s your next wedding?” A strange feeling washed over me, but I instinctively replied, “I haven’t thought about it yet, but to make up for today, I’ll definitely treat you to dinner and apologize in person another day.” “…Alright then… Are you okay?” “I’m perfectly fine.” “But you don’t sound fine.” “Oh? Do I?” I let out a few dry laughs, vaguely realizing this person was a bit odd. But at that moment, I had neither the inclination nor the time to ponder it. I exchanged a few more pleasantries, then quickly hung up. Seeing this, everyone around me’s faces darkened. They all picked up their phones, rushing to spread the news. Telling those waiting at the hotel for the reception to leave, and that wedding gifts would be returned as recorded on the registry. Many grumbled, “What kind of mess is this? Never been to a wedding like this before! Should’ve known not to come! Never seen anyone so unreliable!” “Came here hoping for some good luck, but this is just awful! Should’ve known not to come, this is a joke!” “Could she have been dumped and not even know it? Isn’t she just making fools of us?” “Shh, don’t say that. The groom’s family is well-off. Maybe she’s trying to force him into marriage with the wedding. But he’s too stubborn, refused to show up…” I pretended not to hear any of it, continuing to call the next person to apologize. Then, something even stranger happened. 4 The friends and relatives who had just left the hotel, grumbling, had barely cleared out when a section of the hotel building suddenly collapsed. Fortunately, due to the timely evacuation, there were no casualties. Perhaps even heaven was trying to stop this wedding. I thought, if I had to choose the most miserable person in the world today, it would surely be me. The incident quickly made the news. And Callum, who had just woken up, stumbled upon it. He forwarded the news to me, proudly boasting: [No wonder I didn’t go, it’s because this building was going to collapse. You tell me, if I had actually gone today, how many people would have died? How farsighted of me!] [I really don’t know why you’re always rushing and making trouble for no reason.] [You’re all so unlucky because you didn’t listen to me, haha.] After being busy for a day and a night, seeing these messages, a metallic taste suddenly filled my throat, and I coughed up a mouthful of blood. The white wedding dress, meticulously chosen for a month, was now stained with my own crimson blood. I stared blankly. My mind was empty, my ears ringing. He was utterly beyond belief. So unbelievable that I didn’t even know what to call him. I simply tossed my phone aside, sat in the empty wedding suite, and continued to remove my hair and makeup in front of the mirror. But his recent words echoed repeatedly in my mind, tormenting me to the point of near madness. My hair was only half-removed when I suddenly couldn’t hold back anymore and burst into tears. Giving up completely, I yanked at my hair haphazardly, ignoring the painful tug on my scalp, and with trembling hands, typed: [Okay, let’s break up.] He replied quickly. [Chloe… don’t be angry, I’ve actually reflected on it. I admit I was wrong too. I’ll make it up to you properly when you get home, okay?] [Besides, it’s just marriage, it’s bound to happen eventually, what’s the rush? You don’t really want to get married right now, do you?] [Hurry up and finish what you’re doing, then come find me. Haven’t you always wanted hot pot? I’ll treat you to a big meal.] A heavy stone pressed on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Bound to happen eventually… He thought I would unconditionally and indefinitely wait for him, that I would never leave him. What if I stopped waiting? Would he feel as awful as I did today? But recalling his smug face, I couldn’t help but let out a self-deprecating, cold laugh. No, he wouldn’t feel awful. There was no way I could make him personally experience the pain I suffered today. And what I wanted to eat wasn’t hot pot at all; it was barbecue. Callum always forgot. The long-suppressed feelings of injustice and humiliation surged forth all at once. My vision suddenly went black. When I next woke, I was in a hospital bed. Callum’s parents stood beside me, looking ashamed and awkward. Callum’s mother gently held my hand. “The doctor said you need to rest and shouldn’t get emotional again.” “Chloe, we truly let you down today. We only ever wanted him to be happy, and we didn’t usually interfere….” “But you know, he’s not a bad kid. He didn’t mean any harm, he probably didn’t do it on purpose, and he definitely cares about you…” Callum’s father’s brow was deeply furrowed. “What do you plan to do about this? Whatever you decide, we’ll support you.” Just as I was about to speak, my phone suddenly rang. It was Callum. Again. Why was it always him? I stared at the familiar name on the screen, finding it incredibly jarring. Like a sharp knife, piercing directly from my eyes into my heart. I hung up on him, wanting some peace, and intended to turn my phone off. But before I could, he called again. I closed my eyes wearily, then answered, putting it on speaker. Curious to hear what new brazen things he would say. “Babe, are you still busy? When are you coming over? Bring me a pack of cigarettes, by the way.” I gave a faint, bitter smile and looked at his parents. The two elderly faces instantly turned grim. I stared at his parents, then spoke into the phone, “Callum, I already told you, we’re breaking up.” Callum was clearly startled. “Huh? Really? You’re breaking up over such a small thing?” I took a deep breath. “This isn’t a small thing. This is a very important thing, and it’s the most basic sense of responsibility a person needs to have. Clearly, you don’t have it. So we’re not a match, do you understand?” Callum impatiently scoffed. “Are you done or not? So what if I wasn’t fully awake today and didn’t go to the wedding? Don’t keep bringing up breaking up!” “I’m telling you, if you insist on being unreasonable, I won’t humor you this time. Even if you beg me, I won’t talk to you.” Callum’s mother exploded, leaning over and shouting into my phone. “You good-for-nothing! Chloe just coughed up blood and was rushed to the emergency room, do you have any idea?!” Callum was completely stunned. “What? Really coughed up blood? That shouldn’t be… She’s such a strong woman, is her stress tolerance that low? Is she faking it?” Callum’s mother roared, “Are you even speaking like a human being?!” Callum gave an annoyed tut, then concernedly said, “Chloe, how are you now? I’m sorry, I really didn’t expect such a small thing to upset you this much… Oh, wait, I said that wrong! It’s a big thing! A very important big thing!” “Which hospital are you at? I’m coming to find you right now!” Callum’s mother was about to tell him the hospital name, but I interrupted her. I spoke to Callum: “No need. We’ve broken up. So you can go back to sleep.” “I’m not sleeping, stop messing around…” I continued, coolly, “Oh, then go play games with Maya.” “I won’t play games with her anymore, okay?” I didn’t answer, hung up the phone directly, blocked his number, and turned off my phone. Then I turned to his parents and said, “Aunt and Uncle, thank you for always taking care of me. But Callum and I are truly over. Please don’t tell him where I am; I can’t handle any more stress.” “I’ll mail his belongings back to you within three days. Everything of mine at his place, I don’t want it. You can dispose of it as you wish.” “As for other matters… I’m really struggling to focus right now. I’ll tell you when I remember.” The two elderly people understood my family situation. They exchanged a knowing glance, then sighed deeply, looking very distressed. They were just confused about how to raise their son, but their character was not bad. So, they had no intention of taking back a single penny of the twenty thousand dollar dowry. If I had any other requests, I was welcome to tell them. I was speechless. Callum and I had been together for five years. In the past, I had also considered staying single and childless for peace of mind. Because my parents divorced early, then quickly formed new families, tossing me back and forth like a ball. No one loved me, no one wanted me. Until I met Callum after graduating from college. He was very kind to me, and genuinely a good person. He also had a very warm family, with wonderful parents. This year, we were both nearing thirty. Our friends and his parents had been subtly pressuring us to get married. I thought marrying him seemed like a good idea. But the boy who had once promised me, “I’ll give you a warm home, and I’ll be good to you for life,” ended up hurting me. So, my five years of youth and devotion, the effort I put into planning the wedding, and the humiliation I faced today… weren’t they worth more than those twenty thousand? And I probably wouldn’t have another wedding in this lifetime. Nor would I ever again crave a warm home. In matters of the heart, Callum had utterly destroyed me.

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Forced to marry the powerful Grant Covington after my twin sister eloped, I faced a double life. By day, as his assistant, he was ruthlessly critical. By night, he was a demanding lover, whispering about my sister’s shortcomings. When she returned, demanding her life back, Grant fired me, accusing me of seduction. I left, taking a fortune from them both. Months later, on a beach, my sobbing sister called. Grant wouldn’t touch her; she begged me to return and have his baby for them. I hung up, one thought lingering: how was a man as insatiable as Grant surviving three months without it? 1 I’m Grant Covington’s executive assistant. And I’m about to quit. Who would’ve thought that the same Mr. Covington who’s the picture of cold, professional restraint by day, turns into an absolute freak in bed at night. During meetings, his long, elegant fingers tap against the polished table, his expression sharp, radiating an almost suffocating pressure. All I can think about is how last night, he was wearing my black silk lingerie, hooking a leg around my waist and purring, “Baby, come on, faster…” “June! Ms. Shaw!” A nudge from my colleague snaps me back. Grant is calling my name. I jump to my feet. “I’m so sorry, sir. I was just…” “You were what? Spacing out during a board meeting? Am I paying you a six-figure salary to daydream?” His face is a mask of disdain. “Do you not sleep at night? You walk in here every day looking like death warmed over. And since when did Apex Global’s dress code permit… that?” I blink, confused, then follow his gaze. He’s staring at the faint purple mark on my neck, a kiss I’d failed to cover completely with my silk scarf. My cheeks burn. “I’m sorry, sir. I…” “I don’t want your excuses,” he snaps, his voice cutting through the silent room. “Let me be clear, Ms. Shaw. If it weren’t for your sister, you wouldn’t have a place here. So you and your boyfriend need to tone it down. I don’t want to see this kind of trashy display in my office again. One more time, and you’re fired.” He slams a file onto the table, ignoring the humiliation burning its way through me, and declares, “Meeting adjourned!” 2 The reprimand stings, but I’m too exhausted to feel much else. I barely slept three hours last night, and my head is pounding. I drift back to my desk in a fog. When lunchtime rolls around, I stumble out of the building and into the luxury apartment next door. From the walk-in closet, I pull out a designer dress and a breathtaking diamond necklace. Under the dim light, the yellow diamond glows like a drop of solidified amber. It’s the one Grant bought for his wife at an auction last month. A ten-million-dollar piece that made the society pages. And now it’s in my hands. I tap it against the table, just to hear the sound. That’s right. I’m the wife he adores. And I’m the assistant he can’t stand. He thinks we’re twin sisters. But it’s always just been me. The “trashy” mark on my neck? He put it there himself. Six months ago, right after I started at Apex Global, my parents summoned me home. My twin sister, Seraphina, had run off with her rocker boyfriend, leaving a void in the arranged marriage with the Covington family. They wanted me to take her place. To marry Grant Covington under her name. “Your sister will regret this one day,” my mother pleaded, tears streaming down her face. “We have to leave a path open for her to come back!” “June, you’ve always had it easy, growing up with us in the city. Seraphina was stuck in that small town with your grandparents. She didn’t even finish high school. Think of this as… paying back a debt you owe her. Please?” She threatened to kill herself. I had no choice but to agree. I figured it would be a marriage of convenience. We’d be polite strangers, like most couples in our circle, living separate lives. And at first, it was. But then, it was like Grant was possessed. He became an insatiable demon in the bedroom, clinging to me every night. If I ever said no, his eyes would turn red-rimmed and wounded. He’d wrap his lean thighs around my waist and whisper hoarsely, “Baby, don’t you love me anymore? Did you find someone else? Don’t leave me… I can’t live without you…” What could I do? He was the one begging for it. So, I reluctantly indulged. At first, it was a thrill. But lately, I just want to castrate him. This past month, I’ve been averaging three hours of sleep a night. The exhaustion is making me sloppy at work, and the constant tongue-lashings are grinding me down. This double life—working for him by day, and working for him by night—is killing me. I run my hands through my hair and collapse onto the bed, my mind a swirling mess. Before I can even begin to think of a way out, I’m dead asleep. 3 An hour later, my alarm shrieks me back to life. Filled with resentment, I force myself through a makeup routine, pin up my hair, and transfer my takeout into a chic bento box. Then, I head back to the office to play the role of the doting wife bringing her husband lunch. He’s on a video call, his brow furrowed as he listens to a report from the European division. When he sees me, he gestures for me to come over and pulls me onto his lap. “What took you so long?” he murmurs into my neck, a hint of a pout in his voice. “I thought you weren’t coming today.” The formal presentation is still playing from his laptop speakers. Even though his camera and mic are off, my face flushes with heat. I try to push him away gently. “You’re still in a meeting. Stop it.” “What’s there to be afraid of? We’re married. It’s not like we’re doing anything wrong.” “Isn’t it… unprofessional?” I shoot back. He freezes, then his expression darkens. “Did your sister complain to you again?” “She’s just a young woman, Grant. Being yelled at like that in front of everyone… it must have been humiliating. Could you please try to be nicer to her?” Grant goes quiet. After a long moment, he kisses the corner of my mouth. “I know you have a good heart, darling, but don’t you see? She’s trying to be you.” “What?” He unmutes his mic, tells his team to postpone the meeting until the afternoon, then turns back to me. “Even for twins, it’s impossible to have the exact same mannerisms, the same tastes. You love pearls, so she wears pearl earrings every day. You have a bubbly personality, so she practically skips into the office. The way your voice lilts up at the end of a sentence… she does that too. It’s a deliberate, calculated act.” “So you’re saying…” “She’s imitating you to seduce me,” Grant says, his voice laced with conviction. “I’ve seen women like her a thousand times. They use your trust as a weapon to try and steal what’s yours. You’re just too kind to see it. She’s always been jealous of you, and your parents always took her side. You have to be careful, darling.” As he speaks, his fingers trace lazy circles on my waist, his tone that of a worldly husband schooling his naive, sheltered wife. I feel like I’ve been struck by lightning. “Are you sure you’re not mistaken?” I manage a weak smile. “June isn’t like that.” “I knew you’d say that,” he sighs, his disappointment palpable. “Baby, I’m the one closest to you. Why do you trust her over me?” I can only force a laugh. I have no words. Thankfully, he drops the subject, giving me a tender kiss before we start eating, with me still perched on his lap. As I leave, he pulls me in for a long, passionate goodbye kiss. I’m barely out of the Apex Global tower, wiping the sticky residue of his lips from mine, when my phone rings. It’s him. The moment I answer, he unleashes a torrent of abuse. “Are you a child? You get scolded and you have to run and tattle to your sister? And what the hell is this quarterly report? It’s riddled with errors! If you can’t do the job, then get out! You’re useless!” For a split second, my face contorts into a mask of pure rage. Then, another call comes through. Fuming, I snap, “I said I’m on my way back, stop calling—” “June.” The voice is soft and familiar. “It’s me. I’m back.” 4 My relationship with my sister is… complicated. We’re twins, but we didn’t grow up together. I was with our parents in the city while they built their business; she was left with our grandparents in a sleepy coastal town. They’ve carried a crushing guilt over it ever since. When they finally brought her to the city, they showered her with affection and demanded I give in to her every whim. Any conflict was met with the same refrain: “You stole the love that should have been hers! You owe her this!” Later, when Seraphina failed to get into a good high school, they shipped her off to a boarding school abroad. I stayed home. We were practically strangers. So, hearing her speak to me with such warm familiarity now feels… wrong. “What do you want?” I ask bluntly. “Mom told me about the situation… with you and Grant.” Realizing her sweet act isn’t working, she cuts to the chase. “Now that I’m back, don’t you think it’s time you returned the title of Mrs. Covington to its rightful owner?” “So you’re back to reclaim your throne? What happened, did the rocker dump you?” “Don’t push it, June!” she hisses, her voice dropping. “And don’t you forget, the only Mrs. Covington the world knows is Seraphina Shaw. You’re just an imposter. Who are you to act so high and mighty?” She has a point. The daughter the Shaws married off, the wife Grant introduced to the world… that was always Seraphina. Sometimes, when Grant was in the mood, he’d whisper her name in my ear, calling me “Sera” or “my sweet Seraphina.” It made my skin crawl. “But I didn’t clean up your mess for free,” I retort. “What does that mean?” “A million dollars. Or we can go have a little chat with Grant and see who he thinks the real Mrs. Covington is.” I say it with a saccharine smile. “A million dollars for the Covington fortune. It’s a bargain, my dear sister.” Because of their guilt, my parents cut me off financially the moment I turned eighteen, funneling all their resources to her. While I was working three jobs to pay for college, she was living it up in Europe. I’m owed a little compensation for my suffering. But as much as they doted on her, they wouldn’t have given her their entire fortune. A million would hurt her. Badly. She hesitates for a long time. “You’re sure? You take the money and you disappear?” “If you don’t trust me, I could just go see…” “Don’t! I’ll give it to you!” she blurts out, her decision made. “But you have to promise you will never, ever show your face in front of Grant again.” I agree instantly. Hanging up, my mood lifts considerably. I wipe off every trace of makeup, change into a simple blouse and skirt, and admire myself in the mirror. I think about Grant’s accusation—that I was imitating her to seduce him—and let out a short, bitter laugh. It’s absurd, but I don’t want any more trouble. I swap my pearl studs for a pair of sapphire ones and pull a long trench coat from the closet, hiding my curves completely before heading back to the office. 5 Seraphina wanted me to quit and move to another city. Not a chance. This was my first real job, one I’d earned after five grueling rounds of interviews. Leaving after only six months would look terrible on my resume. After she failed to persuade me, she resigned herself to just taking my dedicated “wife” phone. She spent a few days at our parents’ house, grilling me for every last detail about my life with Grant, all of which I shared honestly. With my nights finally free, I’ve been sleeping like a baby. I feel human again, greeting my colleagues with a cheerful smile and even buying a round of coffee for the team. When I run into Grant in the elevator, I can even muster a bright, “Good morning, sir!” He, on the other hand, looks like hell. His face is pale and drawn, a sickly white. He never looked this bad, not even after the all-nighters we used to pull. “Sir?” I ask, a flicker of concern rising. “Are you feeling alright?” He doesn’t look at me, his voice a flat line. “None of your business.” “…Right.” I have a productive morning, and I’m just starting to think about lunch when I see Seraphina gliding into the office, carrying an insulated lunch box. She’s fully embraced the gentle, doting wife persona I created, dressed in a pink Chanel suit with a silver butterfly clip in her hair. Her smile is perfectly serene. I watch as she disappears into Grant’s office. It’s been a week since she moved back in. They’ve definitely slept together by now… and even though I never loved Grant, the thought of Seraphina having what was mine makes me feel like I’ve swallowed a bug. I press my fingers to my temples. Just as I’m about to head out, Grant’s line buzzes. “Bring in two coffees.” Grant has a sweet tooth but loves the rich aroma of coffee, so the ratio of sugar to cream is very specific. I prepare them just the way he likes and carry them into his office. Seraphina’s syrupy voice fills the air. “Darling, you have to eat. I made all your favorites.” She sees me and falters for a moment, her composure slipping before she plasters on a smile. “June, what are you doing in here? My husband and I are having lunch.” “Just dropping off the coffee,” I say, wanting to avoid a scene. Grant is still at his desk, so I place one cup there and bring the other to Seraphina on the sofa. She reaches for it, a sly smile touching her lips just as my fingers let go. Then she deliberately tips the cup, sending the scalding liquid cascading over my forearm. The skin instantly turns an angry red, blistering before my eyes. “Oh, June, are you okay?” she cries, her face a mask of frantic concern. “You were so clumsy! Oh, I hope it doesn’t scar.” She looks like she’s about to burst into tears. Grant rushes over, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright, it wasn’t your fault… Let’s get you to a hospital,” he says to me. “I’ll cover the medical bills.” “Oh, darling, you’re the best,” Seraphina coos, melting into his embrace. “I feel so terrible. If June scars because of me, I’ll never forgive myself.” Hidden in the safety of his arms, she shoots me a triumphant, mocking smirk. The same one she used a thousand times as a child to manipulate our parents. I just smile back. I leave the office, quickly treat the burn in the breakroom, and then wait by the elevators. When Seraphina emerges, beaming, I beckon her over with a crooked finger. I grab her arm, and without a word, I slap her hard across her perfectly powdered face. “You—” CRACK. The other cheek gets the same treatment. Her face is already swelling, her expression a mixture of shock and fury. “How—how dare you—” “I played along for Grant’s benefit, but I’m not about to take that kind of abuse for free.” I cross my arms, smiling sweetly. “Add another two hundred thousand to the tab. Have it in my account by tonight. And from now on, keep me out of your twisted little games. You really don’t want to piss me off.” Seraphina clutches her face, her eyes burning with a hatred she can’t voice. She knows pushing me too far has consequences. She remembers the pool, three years ago. The feeling of my hands on her head, holding her under the water, the burning in her lungs as she fought for air… If a maid hadn’t screamed, she would have died. My parents may adore her, but I’m their daughter too. She’d never go to the police. She’d just have to swallow it. “Just quit, June,” she says, taking a deep breath. “The world is a big place. Why are you so obsessed with your sister’s husband?” “If you can’t stand the sight of me, then get away from me. Leave the city. Disappear. Wouldn’t that be better for everyone?” It clicks into place instantly. “You’ve been whispering in Grant’s ear.” She just gives me that same challenging smile. I take a deep, shaky breath, a vein throbbing in my forehead. The feeling of being played like this, of being so utterly manipulated—it makes me want to scream. I shove her, hard. And then I turn and storm back into Grant’s office.

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The half-smoked cigar in the ashtray still emitted tendrils of smoke. I don’t smoke. That’s for Richard, Olivia’s childhood friend who just returned from overseas. He enjoys a good cigar. Olivia emerged from the study, following my gaze to the ashtray. Her eyes flickered, and she quickly stubbed out the stub. “Richard was just here. His company ran into some trouble, so he came to iron out a contract.” I nodded, picking up the air freshener and spraying it around the room. “No need to explain. I just genuinely dislike the smell of smoke.” Richard was Olivia’s golden boy, her cherished “friend,” even in bankruptcy. And because of him, on my thirtieth birthday, I sat in that restaurant all night, feeling like a complete fool. Since that night, I’d extinguished every last spark of hope I had for Olivia. Olivia watched me expertly clean the ashtray, her brow furrowing deeper with each swipe. “Why aren’t you angry? You used to hate him coming over.” Why should I be angry? This used to be my home, yes, but now, it was nothing more than a place to sleep. 1 I didn’t answer Olivia’s question. She followed me into the living room, a puzzled look on her face. Her gaze scrutinized me. “What’s wrong with you?” I forced a smile. “Isn’t this the kind of relationship you always wanted?” Olivia was speechless for a moment, then rephrased her words. “Richard is in serious trouble. That contract is crucial for his comeback, that’s all. Why would you…” She didn’t finish her sentence. I already filled in the blanks in my mind. Why would I taint their friendship with such sordid thoughts? She seemed to realize her words were a bit harsh, her tone softening. “I haven’t done anything behind your back. He was in the study for work, nothing more.” “Beyond being friends, I’m his legal counsel, and he’s my client. It’s that simple.” I remained silent. Olivia’s composure faltered, revealing an unmistakable frustration. “James, what exactly do you want from me?” I looked up at Olivia. “I don’t want anything from you.” “And you don’t need to explain any of this to me.” Catching sight of a lighter on the table, I pointed to it. “Why don’t you take this back to him now? He might not be able to sleep tonight if he can’t have his usual smoke.” Olivia’s face fell completely. It wasn’t the first time Richard had shown up late at night. The first time, his creditors were trashing his company. It was midnight, and he showed up at our door, voice cracking with tears. Olivia, still in her nightgown, went back to the office with him and stayed all night. About a month later, I saw a brand-new photo frame on Olivia’s desk. Inside was a picture of her and Richard from middle school, both in school uniforms, looking young and awkward. Olivia casually explained, “Richard gave it to me. Said it was to thank me for helping him out that time.” She placed it prominently, as if it were a treasure. I suppressed the storm brewing in my chest. In the end, I said nothing. But within a few days, Richard was at our door again late at night. He said, as if it were the most natural thing, “Liv, I brought some late-night snacks. Join me for a drink, I’m so stressed out.” Olivia walked past me, taking the bag from his hand. Her voice was full of familiarity and concern. “Come in, quick. What’s happened now?” Richard gave her a wry smile. “Only you can help me.” He seemed to completely ignore my presence, walking straight into the dining room. I stood rooted to the spot. That was the first time Olivia and I had our most explosive fight. By the end, her eyes were red-rimmed as she looked at me. “James, not everyone is like you. Please don’t waste your energy on these pointless suspicions.” “Richard is different from you. He’s a man of ambition, and he’s really struggling right now.” The anger was still a hard knot in my chest. I stared blankly at Olivia. But Olivia turned away from me and walked into the study. Snapping out of my memories. Olivia’s gaze remained fixed on me, as if searching for some familiar emotion on my face. She was disappointed. My expression was completely unreadable. As I was about to head upstairs, Olivia’s voice drifted from behind me. “James, tomorrow is your thirty-first birthday.” “I ordered you a cake.” 2 If Olivia hadn’t mentioned it, I would have forgotten my birthday entirely. Ever since Richard returned, she’d missed every one of my birthdays, always with the same excuse. Can’t get away. Last year, for her birthday, I’d excitedly booked two tickets, hoping to spend a romantic getaway in Switzerland. I called Olivia’s phone, but it wasn’t her who answered. It was Richard. “James, Liv is in the middle of an urgent dispute for me. I’ll have her call you back when she’s free.” Hearing Richard’s voice, my mind went blank for a second. Olivia’s phone was always with her, and she hated anyone else answering it. In our first year of marriage, I once used her phone for an emergency. When she came back, she didn’t say anything, but her expression was anything but pleased. After that, I never touched her phone again. Yet, Richard could answer it so casually on her behalf. This incident led to another heated confrontation between Olivia and me. She thought I was being unreasonable. All those meticulously planned travel itineraries sat untouched in a drawer for a year. Pulling myself back to the present, I turned to her. “My birthday? I completely forgot.” Olivia’s expression froze, her face etched with disbelief. “You forgot your own birthday?” I didn’t answer her again. I went upstairs and into the guest room. Late that night, I was jolted awake by the insistent ringing of the phone downstairs. I vaguely heard Olivia speaking in hushed tones. Just as I reached the top of the stairs, I heard her changing shoes. “I’m on my way to the police station. Don’t worry, just talk to the officers calmly for now.” “It’ll be okay, I’m coming. Wait for me there.” “If it’s their fault, I won’t let them off easy.” By the end, Olivia’s voice had taken on a soothing quality. Richard was Olivia’s neighbor, growing up together. From kindergarten to elementary and middle school, they were always in the same class. Perhaps that was why she always helped him without reservation. Even at my in-laws’ house, Richard, an outsider, was a perpetually hot topic. Soon, Olivia’s voice carried up. “James, I have to go out.” “Right,” I said, a hint of sarcasm in my voice. “My regards to Richard.” “Richard? Were you listening to my call?” “Who else in this world could make you rush out in the middle of the night?” “…” Richard had called her away again. I slowly walked downstairs. Olivia was already in her coat, frantically searching for her car keys by the door. I glanced at her but said nothing. I bypassed her and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. She nervously ran a hand through her hair, explaining in a rapid rush of words. “James, it’s not what you think. Richard had too much to drink and got into a fight. I have to…” I turned my head, a smile playing on my lips. “I get it. No need for so many words.” “Go quickly. Don’t keep Richard waiting. And be quiet when you come back, don’t wake me.” Olivia looked like she wanted to say more, but couldn’t find the words. She grabbed her car keys and hurried out. After Olivia left, I sat in the living room for a long time. “James,” she called out, tired, after an unknown amount of time, “Is something wrong with our relationship? We should talk.” I smiled. “What do you want to talk about?” “About Richard?” Olivia fell silent. I sighed, my gaze unnervingly calm, as if I were looking at a stranger. “Olivia, I don’t feel there’s anything to discuss. Richard is your friend, and your most important client.” “It’s only natural for you to help him with his troubles. I won’t be upset about these things, and you don’t need to account for yourself to me every time.” “You don’t need to explain anything. I can understand, I can sympathize.” Olivia’s face instantly drained of color. These were the very words she had thrown at me during one of our countless arguments over Richard. Now, I returned them to her, word for word. She was about to speak again when her phone rang. It was Richard. Olivia glanced at me, a hint of hesitation in her eyes. Finally, right in front of me, she answered and put it on speaker. Richard’s drunken voice slurred from the other end. “Liv… Liv, I’m almost home, thank you. Ugh…” “Hey, kid! Don’t throw up in the car, hey…” It sounded disgusting. But Olivia’s expression wasn’t disgust; it was anxiety. “Richard, Richard, where are you? Are you home?” The call disconnected. Olivia looked down, lost in thought, before finally raising her head to look at me a few seconds later. She stared at me, at a loss for words. I spoke first. “You should have stayed out if it was going to be like this.” Olivia was silent for a long moment before she spoke. “Who cares about him? He’s just a child who will never grow up.” I curled my lips into a small smile. My conversation with Olivia ultimately went nowhere. She went back to the master bedroom, and I went back to the guest room, but I couldn’t sleep. About half an hour later, the door opened, and a car engine started again. The sound faded into the distance. She went to him after all. 3 Lying in bed, I suddenly felt like laughing. Olivia and I met on an architectural design project. I was the one who pursued her. We dated for three years, and as soon as the project ended, we got married. For the first two years of our marriage, Olivia and I were very happy. I won the prestigious Carpenter’s Award for that project and started my own studio. I became the most talked-about rising star in the industry. Olivia also started getting very busy. Daily meetings, frequent client consultations for various cases—I accepted it all. Even on my birthday, she only had her assistant send a gift. Despite a hint of dissatisfaction, I still texted back with a smile. Thanks, wife. Career comes first. I understood her struggles as a law firm partner. Worried about her erratic eating habits, I’d often drive to her office to pick her up for dinner when I had time. After a year of this, she suddenly said, “Don’t bother with me anymore. I can just order takeout myself. It’s too much of a hassle for you to drive back and forth.” Later, I found out that Olivia’s childhood friend, Richard, had returned to the country. When I asked about it, she said, “He had no choice. His partner screwed him over. I can’t just abandon him.” I agreed, not pressing the matter further. Until I noticed Richard frequently appearing in our lives. He was down on his luck, yet his conversation remained witty, and he was particularly adept at playing the victim. Olivia, who hated social gatherings, was surprisingly willing to accompany Richard to dinner and drinks with investor after investor. Our first rift appeared when he gave Olivia that old childhood photo. But Olivia thought I was overreacting. “Darling, he’s just an old friend. You don’t need to be so jealous.” And so, our disagreements grew. Our cold wars became more frequent. All because of Richard. We even discussed divorce, but ultimately, it never happened. Olivia disagreed. During that time, I was almost spiraling out of control, obsessively tracking her schedule. If she didn’t answer her phone, I’d become restless. She accompanied Richard out of town to meet with investors. I frantically messaged her, asking for updates. Until Richard used her number to text me back: “Liv is in a meeting, can’t pick up.” “James, I know you care about her, but you also need to understand her work.” “Could you please not bother her for today?” I couldn’t hold back and sent Richard many rude messages. Olivia finally called back, but it led to another furious argument. “James, why have you become like this?” “What will Richard think of those messages you sent? If my colleagues saw them, how could I face anyone at the firm? What would your friends say behind your back?” “You’re being unreasonable every day. Have you considered the consequences?” Olivia completely avoided mentioning her and Richard’s boundary-crossing behavior, only seeing my actions as irrational. The ICU door opened, and I was told my mother was gone. Looking at Olivia’s disconnected call, I burst into tears. Sadly, my mother never got to see her daughter-in-law one last time. Richard’s company reportedly secured crucial investment. He posted several messages on social media, expressing his gratitude to Olivia. After all, during the seven-day negotiation in the city, a tug-of-war between three investors, Olivia had been by his side the entire time, clearing all legal hurdles for him. I didn’t ask a single question. I worked when I needed to, and I rested when I could. I didn’t give Olivia even an extra glance. Several times, Olivia seemed about to speak, but didn’t know how to begin. In the evening, Olivia stopped me. She spoke to me with a hint of uncertainty. “For this financing negotiation, as lead legal counsel, I have to be involved every step of the way.” I paused. I thought Olivia was going to say something else, but it was just about this. I looked up, a polite smile on my face. “I understand. Don’t worry, I won’t disrupt your work. Is there anything else?” Olivia seemed to reach her breaking point, her voice trembling as she snarled, “James, have you caused enough trouble?” “Enough.” 4 After Olivia returned from her trip, she started to change. Aside from necessary collaborations, she stopped meeting Richard privately. She would voluntarily place her phone in front of me, reporting all her engagements. But I no longer cared. It was too late. Besides, I had already accepted a job offer in Singapore. I stopped paying attention to Olivia. With my mother gone, I had no more ties. Three days before my departure, Richard’s company held a grand press conference, announcing successful funding. It was live-streamed. When the camera focused on Olivia, as the lead counsel, she simply said, “I want to thank my loving partner for his years of support and understanding.” The media showered her with praise, applauding her ability to balance family and career. “You and Mr. Richard truly are a golden couple, a perfect match.” “No, you’re mistaken. My husband’s name is James, and he’s an architect! From now on, I’m giving up all social engagements to be a good wife and mother.” Richard’s smile faltered for a moment, but he still went along with the press conference. I turned off the live stream and continued packing my luggage. After the press conference, Olivia’s phone rang. As soon as I answered, I heard Richard’s excited voice on the other end. “Liv, you were amazing today! Your presence captivated everyone.” “Tonight, we’ve booked out the entire hotel to celebrate our future!” Olivia instinctively tried to muffle the phone, afraid I might hear. After a moment of hesitation, she nodded. Richard happily grasped her wrist. “Then it’s settled, Liv.” Olivia looked at her phone, only then realizing the call had already disconnected. When Olivia came home late that night, she found a file folder for her on the table. Inside was the signed divorce agreement. She threw the divorce agreement onto the table. “How much longer are you going to treat me like this?” she said. “I’ve changed so much. What more do you want from me?” Olivia looked at me. “Are you blaming me? I’m sorry, Mom was sick, and I didn’t visit her. Let’s go to the hospital to see her tomorrow.” I looked at Olivia with an icy gaze. “Shouldn’t I blame you?” The next day, I took Olivia to see my mother. All the way there, she kept texting on her phone; I knew it had to be Richard. It wasn’t until we arrived at the cemetery that she realized something was wrong. I led her to my mother’s grave. She froze, then knelt down and burst into tears. I dusted off my mother’s tombstone. “Mom, I’m going to Singapore. I won’t be able to visit you often anymore. Take care of yourself.” I handed Olivia the divorce agreement. “Sign it. This way, Mom won’t have to keep worrying about you, her daughter-in-law. Let’s not argue in front of Mom.” “No, James. Give me another chance. I won’t disappoint Mom.” “I’ll cut all ties with Richard right now and come with you to Singapore. We can start fresh there.” Just then, Olivia’s phone rang. It was Richard calling.

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Lord Ashton Hall, the heir to the Capital Circle, heard me mention male escorts on the day of our divorce? Ashton Hall looked at the papers on the table, his hand, which usually fingered prayer beads, paused. I lowered my gaze demurely, my voice choked: “His sister is back, I don’t want you to be in a difficult position, Mr. Hall. Let’s part ways amicably.” Inside, I was ecstatic: [Sign it! A billion! Male escorts! Jerry’s abs!] The next second, the string of prayer beads in Ashton’s hand suddenly snapped, scattering the beads across the floor. He sharply looked up, his eyes bloodshot, fixated on me. “Monica Hall, you want to use my money to feel whose abs?” I silently scoffed inwardly: [How did this bastard know I wanted to feel abs? Is he bluffing?] Outwardly, I cried even harder: “No one… I only have you…” 1 “How can you accuse me?” I wiped away tears, reaching for his sleeve, my fingertips trembling, playing the part of utter helplessness. Inside, I cursed: [What a big show-off!] [We’re getting a divorce, why does it matter whose abs I touch?] [Forget Jerry, once the money’s in my account, I’ll book Tom and Jack too!] [Every night, they’ll take turns giving me a striptease!] Ashton’s mouth twitched violently, his expression grim. He flung my hand away, and I nearly crashed into the coffee table. “Fine, very well,” he gnashed, his voice cold and cutting. “Tom? Jack? Monica, your appetite isn’t small.” My heart skipped a beat: [What the hell? How does he know about Tom and Jack?] [Has my club membership been exposed?] [No way, I used my mom’s ID for that!] Panic flared inside. But I firmly believed that as long as I didn’t admit it, he had no proof. I looked up, my swollen eyes bewildered and wronged. “Ashton, what are you talking about? What Tom? Is that his sister’s cat?” Ashton took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, those eyes blazed with consuming fire. He picked up the divorce papers and shredded them. Confetti of paper rained down. I froze. [My billion! My happy place!] [Ashton Hall, you son of a bitch! If you’re not signing, why tear the paper? Printing costs money!] Ashton strode forward, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look up at him. His thumb was rough, calloused from years of fingering prayer beads, and it chafed painfully against my skin. “You want to take the money and leave? To go hire male escorts?” He leaned in close, his hot breath fanning my face, possessive and aggressive. “Monica, you can forget about that for the rest of your life.” With that, he pulled out his phone, dialed his assistant, his voice chilling. “Cancel all supplementary cards under Monica’s name, including her mother’s.” “Also, find out all the ‘Jerrys,’ ‘Toms,’ and ‘Jacks’ in every club in Eastlake City, and blacklist them all.” Me: “…” [Ashton Hall! Damn you to hell!] The call ended. My heart bled. The money was gone. The escorts were gone too. Sorrow welled up in my heart. This time, I genuinely cried. Cried with heartfelt sincerity. “Ashton Hall, you can’t do this to me! I’ve already stepped aside, why do you still humiliate me?” I collapsed to the floor, weeping tragically. Inside, I cursed viciously: [May you never get it up! May you be cuckolded! May you clog the toilet when you poop!] Ashton’s face darkened, veins throbbing at his temples. He suddenly bent down, sweeping me up from the floor. He strode upstairs. The world spun. I screamed in terror: “What are you doing! Put me down!” Ashton kicked open the bedroom door, roughly tossing me onto the large bed. Before I could scramble up, his tall frame pressed down on me, and with one hand, he untied his tie, binding my wrists above my head. Those eyes, usually cold and ascetic, were now tinged with intense desire and ruthlessness. “Cursing me to never get it up?” He sneered. His knee forcefully pushed my legs apart: “Monica, tonight I’ll show you who’s truly ‘incapable.’” “As for that Jerry, he’d better pray I don’t find him.” “Otherwise, I’ll let him know what ‘truly exquisite touch’ feels like.” 2 I closed my eyes, bracing for the storm. However, just as his kiss was about to descend, the phone on the bedside table suddenly rang. The ringtone was shrill, a death knell and a lifeline at once. Ashton froze, his brows tightly furrowed. The desire in his eyes hadn’t faded, tinged with annoyance. I seized the chance to slip out from under him, wrapping myself in the duvet and shrinking into the corner of the bed, my face terrified. [Answer it! Pick it up!] [A late-night call, who else could it be but that pure-hearted Lily White, Clara Reed?] [Thank you, Clara Reed! Thank you, Telecom Company! Thank you, heavens!] [As long as he leaves now, I’m willing to kowtow to Clara Reed three times!] Ashton’s hand, holding the phone, stiffened. He gave me a deep, unreadable look. But he answered the call anyway. “Ashton… I’m so scared… there’s thunder, can you please come see me?” The voice on the other end was soft and sweet, trembling, clearly audible in the dead of night. It was her, indeed. I immediately put on my understanding, magnanimous, and virtuous wife face, sniffing but my voice still tearful. “Is that his sister? She just returned to the country, she must not be used to it. You should go be with her, don’t worry about me…” Inside: [Go! Go now! Preferably to her bed and don’t come back! I want this huge king-sized bed all to myself!] Ashton sneered. He ignored Clara on the other end and hung up the phone directly. “You’re quite generous,” he threw the phone back onto the bedside table, making me flinch. “Since you want me to go so badly, I absolutely won’t.” He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, stripped naked in front of me, lifted the duvet, and climbed into bed. He reached out, pulling me into his embrace. “Sleep.” Me: “…” [You’re insane! Your ‘pure love’ is calling, go to her!] [What are you doing here? If you don’t leave, how can I hire escorts!] That night, I spent it tightly held in Ashton’s embrace. The next day, I was woken by commotion downstairs. Going down, the living room was piled high with expensive luggage, as if someone was moving in. Clara Reed, wearing a hospital gown and looking as if she might faint at any moment, was sitting on the sofa, wiping away tears. Seeing Ashton and me descend, she immediately stood up, swaying slightly. “Ashton, I’m so sorry… I was just too scared last night, so I had to bother you two.” Her eyes were red, and she looked at me pitifully: “Monica, you don’t mind, do you? I’m not well, and Ashton doesn’t feel comfortable leaving me alone outside.” I sneered inwardly: [Mind? Like hell I mind!] [You moving in will not only share Ashton’s perverse intensity, but you might even push me out, then I can legitimately split the assets!] [Quick! Quick, say you want the master bedroom! Steal that bastard Ashton!] I immediately forced a smile even weaker than hers, walked over, and took her hand. “How could I, sister? This was always… your home. Ashton and I treat you like a real sister.” Ashton, in the middle of fastening his cufflinks, paused and looked up at me, his gaze chilling. Clara was clearly surprised by my easygoingness, she froze for a moment, then smugly looked at Ashton. “Ashton, Monica is so understanding.” Ashton said nothing, walking directly to the dining room: “Let’s eat first.” At the dining table, the atmosphere was strange. Clara naturally sat to Ashton’s left—that was originally my seat. I didn’t care at all, cheerfully taking the seat opposite. A maid served breakfast: plain congee and side dishes. Clara took a sip of the congee, then suddenly frowned, clutching her chest and gagging. “What’s wrong?” Ashton asked blandly. “Nothing, it’s just this congee tastes a bit fishy.” Clara leaned weakly towards Ashton: “Ashton, you know, I’m used to Western food from abroad. This kind of Chinese… my stomach isn’t feeling well.” I rolled my eyes inwardly: [Fishy? How could seafood congee not be fishy?] [Who are you putting on an act for? Your stomach isn’t upset, your brain is bubbling.] [If you don’t like it, don’t eat it. Better to starve to death than waste food.] Ashton’s hand, holding the spoon, trembled. He suddenly picked up a spoonful of cilantro, which Clara hated, and placed it in my bowl. “If you don’t like it, don’t force it,” he said to Clara, then turned to me, his tone significant: “Monica isn’t picky. Eat more.” I looked at the pile of green cilantro, my face grim. I nodded tearfully: “Thank you, darling. I love cilantro.” Then, with a look of resignation, I shoved the wad of cilantro into my mouth, swallowing it without even chewing. Inside, I was furious: [Ashton Hall! Damn you!] [You just wait, next time I’ll add something extra to your bowl too!] [I’ll spit in your coffee! Make you drink it like an idiot!] Ashton’s hand, reaching for his coffee, paused mid-air. He looked at the coffee cup, then at my seemingly obedient face. He placed the cup on the table, coffee splashing out. “What’s wrong, Ashton?” Clara jumped. Ashton’s face was livid. He poured the expensive Blue Mountain coffee directly into the nearby trash can. “Not drinking it.” He stood up, looking down at me. His voice squeezed through gritted teeth: “It’s disgusting.” I blinked innocently: [This is enough to be disgusted? He must hate Clara’s perfume. That smell is deadly.] Clara’s face fell, she bit her lip. She seemed utterly wronged: “Ashton, did I do something wrong?” Ashton ignored her, simply dropping a cold remark: “There’s a party tonight. You both come.” With that, he strode away. I wanted to slip away too. Just as I stood up, Clara called me. She dropped her pretense of fragility, her eyes contemptuous, scanning me up and down. “Monica Hall, do you know the caliber of tonight’s party?” She walked over, reaching out to adjust my collar, a familiar gesture. Her voice oozed superiority: “That’s a top-tier event in the Capital Circle, attended by old money families. You, a country bumpkin who’s never even touched a piano, will only embarrass Ashton if you go.” Me: “…” [Oh? Can’t keep up the act anymore?] Clara leaned close to my ear, whispering viciously: “If you know what’s good for you, give up the position of Mrs. Hall.” “Otherwise, tonight I’ll make you lose face in front of all the city’s elites.” I looked at her twisted face and smiled. “Sister is right,” I stepped back, bowing respectfully, “I truly don’t understand anything. I’ll have to rely on sister to look after me tonight.” Inside: [Excellent! Hurry up and make me lose face! The more, the better!] [Hopefully, Ashton will be so embarrassed he’ll divorce me on the spot tonight!] [You said it. If you don’t mess up my divorce plan tonight, you’re a loser!] Clara smiled, satisfied, thinking she had intimidated me. But she didn’t see Ashton, who had already reached the door, suddenly stop. He looked back, his gaze falling on Clara’s smug face. Then he swept his eyes over my demure expression, a cruel curve playing on his lips. “Want a divorce?” he murmured, so softly only the air could hear. “Dream on.” 3 A top-tier private club in the Capital. The lighting was ambient, seductive. Clara, in a designer gown, held a wine glass, intimately walking beside Ashton. I followed demurely behind, playing the part of the long-suffering, overshadowed wife. A group of bejeweled socialites gathered around. Clara smiled gracefully, proactively taking my hand and introducing me to everyone. “This is Monica,” she emphasized, “Though she grew up in the countryside and hasn’t seen much of the world.” “But she’s extremely talented, skilled in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting.” A ripple of suppressed laughter spread through the crowd. The socialites whispered, their gazes brazenly scrutinizing me, filled with disdain. Clara then pointed to a vintage harp nearby. Her smile was radiant: “Monica, why don’t you play a tune for everyone to liven things up?” I immediately recoiled, waving my hands frantically. My eyes instantly reddened. “Sister, I really can’t… I’ve never learned the harp,” my voice trembled, fully embodying the self-conscious, timid country girl. Inside, however, I was on fire: [Play what, you idiot!] [I used to be a star DJ at ‘The Nightclub,’ my hand speed was so fast I could spark!] [Even the boss had to light my cigarette!] [What’s a harp? I refuse to play!] [Hurry up and make fun of me! The more the whole room laughs, the better!] [Make Ashton feel like I’ve utterly shamed him, and tonight he’ll sign the divorce papers!] Ashton was holding a wine glass, exchanging pleasantries with someone. Hearing my inner thoughts, his wrist suddenly stiffened. He turned, his gaze fixed on my intertwined hands, which looked tense and helpless. Seeing me motionless, Clara relentlessly walked over, grabbing my arm and dragging me towards the harp. “Monica, don’t be shy,” her grip was incredibly strong, her nails almost digging into my flesh. “Even a simple tune is a gesture. Ashton wants to hear it too.” I stumbled, tears almost falling. [Pinching me? You old manipulative witch, you dare pinch me?] [When I get my billion, I’ll hire ten burly women to dance in front of your house every day, deafening you!] Ashton strode forward. He grabbed Clara’s wrist, ruthlessly pulling it away. Clara gasped in pain, her smile freezing. Ashton directly pulled me back behind him, his actions forceful. He coldly scanned the room, his gaze finally settling on Clara’s pale face. “She’s not playing,” his low voice boomed through the noisy hall. Silence instantly descended. “My wife, Mrs. Hall, has delicate hands,” he took out a handkerchief, wiped his hand, and tossed it into a trash can. “Only suitable for counting money, not for playing music to entertain others.” Everyone fell silent. A few socialites who had laughed earlier turned pale. I, hiding behind Ashton, was completely stunned. [What’s gotten into this bastard? He actually stood up for me?] [No, he must be afraid I’d play terribly and embarrass him! Yes, that must be it!] [Capitalists care most about their reputation!] Ashton’s erect back stiffened. He sharply turned to glare at me, his eyes threatening to devour me. I quickly lowered my head, continuing to play the part of a timid quail. Just then, a waiter passed by with a tray, on which lay an intricately carved pure silver cufflink. This cufflink was a distinctive mark of Ashton’s family, rumored to be hand-polished by the top craftsmen of the Hall family, symbolizing the family’s honor and legacy. Only direct core members were allowed to wear it. Clara’s eyes lit up, and she looked at Ashton with tenderness. “Ashton, this cufflink is so beautiful,” her voice was very soft, full of implication. Ashton’s face was expressionless. He picked up the cufflink directly. “You like it?” he asked. Clara shyly lowered her head, extending her hands, ready to receive it. “Thank you, Ashton…” Her words were cut short. Ashton walked directly past her, picked up the cufflink, and tossed it into my lap. The force of it made my chest ache. “Play with it,” Ashton looked down at me, his eyes ruthless. “If it’s not enough, I’ll have someone make you more when we get back.” He leaned close to my ear, his voice barely a whisper. “Don’t spend all your time thinking about those worthless trinkets.” Clara’s hand froze in mid-air. She stared disbelievingly at the cufflink in my lap, her face pale, her lips trembling slightly. All eyes in the room were fixed on me. I clutched the heavy cufflink, my mind a blank. [It’s not for her? It’s for me?] [If we divorce, can this thing be considered my personal property? How much could it sell for?] I hadn’t even had time to mentally appraise it. Clara’s finger trembled, and her goblet tilted. More than half a glass of dark red wine splashed onto my gown, flowing down my collarbone and deep into my neckline.

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After the divorce, with my legs broken and eyes blinded, I changed my identity, vanished without a trace, and opened a dessert shop in the South. I saw Sebastian Evans again five years later. A runner, here to pick up an order, told me, “For all these years, Mr. Evans hasn’t had a single woman by his side. He’s been waiting for you.” The words had barely left his lips when Sebastian walked in. The man was in a black suit, four bodyguards trailing behind him, his entrance silencing the entire street. I felt him standing at the counter, watching me for a long time, his gaze so heavy it chilled my heart. But in the end, he simply uttered coldly: “Willow Hayes, long time no see.” “Mmh, long time no see.” I fumbled, wiping the counter, my face devoid of emotion. I remembered five years ago, it was only because his adopted sister, Clara, claimed I had drugged her drink, leading to her assault. Sebastian flew into a rage. He had my kneecaps shattered on the spot. Then he took screenshots from the intimate videos we’d made and scattered them across the entire clubhouse. “Personally tested, soft-bodied, seductive voice, knows how to please. Free delivery.” His subordinates tried to reason with him: “Willow is about to be your lawfully wedded wife, Mr. Evans. Why would you destroy her?” Sebastian, however, kicked over the incense table. “She dared to touch Clara; she should know the consequences.” “I only wanted to scare her. I didn’t actually send her out. Let her taste what it’s like to be humiliated.” I leaned against the doorframe, standing in the shadows, my vision black, yet I could feel his icy gaze. He showed no remorse, gripping my chin and saying, “This time you crossed a line. Your suffering is your own doing.” “As long as you go kowtow to Clara, admit your mistakes, and atone for the pain she suffered, I’ll still make you Mrs. Evans.” I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my throat, picked up the photos one by one, and tore them to shreds in front of everyone. The next second, a whistle sounded from outside the clubhouse. “I’ll take this dame.” Sebastian suddenly smashed the teacup in his hand. His subordinates immediately fell silent. Someone quietly advised, “Sir, maybe just let it go. It wouldn’t sound good spreading around…” Sebastian turned to me. “Willow Hayes, what do you say? Will you admit your mistake?” I lowered my eyes, then turned and felt my way towards the back room. Behind me, I heard his ice-cold sneer: “Your… friend here has no objections, why are you all so anxious? Since the gentleman doesn’t mind her being ‘soiled,’ I must fulfill his request.” I slowly walked out. Many people in the corridor pointed and whispered about me. My hands and feet were numb with cold. A drunken thug suddenly lunged, wrapping his arm around my waist, spewing obscenities. “Heard you specialize in serving the sick? Coincidentally, I just got out of the hospital, full of filthy diseases…” I screamed, struggling, but passersby disgustedly moved away. Whispers drifted faintly: “That’s her, right? The one Mr. Evans discarded. So dirty.” “Serves her right. She put those photos out herself, and now has the nerve to cry for help.” I trembled all over, hissing, “My man is Sebastian Evans! How dare you touch me—” “Got a man but still hooking up outside? Those videos of yours are everywhere. What kind of lowlife would want you?” “Call your man out then. If he really comes, I’ll let go.” Before the words fully left his mouth, the door to the private room at the end of the hall opened. Sebastian emerged with his men. Hearing his footsteps, my tears instantly flowed. “Sebastian! Save me!” But he didn’t even glance at me. He just smiled at the drunkard. “Brother, she likes this kind of attention. She specifically picks those with… conditions.” Then he walked straight past. The drunkard roared with laughter. “Mr. Evans doesn’t even want you, why are you still putting on an act?!” I don’t know how much time passed, but suddenly a large amount of blood gushed from below me. The man, startled, let go and ran off, cursing. I stumbled to my feet and went to the nearest clinic. The baby was gone. I had planned to tell Sebastian I was pregnant on our third anniversary. But now, all that remained were blurry blood clots in a sterile tray. The doctor on duty looked at me, her expression full of unspoken words. “Miss Hayes, Mr. Evans sent word… he demands you never touch perfumery again. Your studio has also been trashed. And apparently… you owe him five million dollars.” I closed my eyes, the taste of rust rising in my throat. The doctor’s eyes reddened. “How could Mr. Evans become like this… Years ago, he almost had a shootout with a rival gang to protect your perfumery studio; the last time someone caused you trouble, he risked his life, rushing in alone to carry you out.” “He clearly loved you so much, how could he now, for an adopted sister, cripple your perfuming hands and ruin the rest of your life?” Yes, why? I shook my head, unable to speak. When I first met Sebastian, I didn’t know he had an adopted sister. He was injured during a brawl at the docks, a knife piercing his lung, just half an inch from his life. I nursed him for three days and nights in my family’s apothecary, using an ancestral recipe to pull him back from death’s door. The day after he woke, he sent his men to summon me. Bandages wrapped around half his body, he smiled hoarsely at me. “Miss Hayes, for saving my life, my life is yours from now on.” I took it as mere courtesy from a man of the underworld. But he truly pursued me for a whole year, deflecting countless troubles from my small apothecary. Knowing I often stayed up late perfuming, he would always wait at my shop door with hot soup whenever he returned. It was hard not to be moved, yet I dared not be. Until three years ago, a rival sent assassins into my perfumery studio. Sebastian completely shielded me with his body, taking a knife in his back and another in his arm. The day he had his stitches removed, I said yes to him. For these three years, everything had been perfect. Until he was absent on the day we were to get our marriage license. Three days later, he appeared with Clara, only vaguely saying he’d forgotten. Sebastian asked me to take good care of Clara. I did my best. Three days ago, Clara came to me, complaining of a rash. She begged me not to tell her brother. I assumed it was an allergy and took her to our family’s trusted old doctor, who prescribed an external ointment. But when I saw the medical notes, I froze—they stated an STD. Before I could figure out how to tell her, Sebastian burst in with his men, shielding a red-eyed Clara. With a single command, my kneecaps were shattered with an iron bar. I curled up on the ground in pain, asking him why. He looked at me coldly. “I thought you were different from those other women. I never imagined you were so malicious.” “Just because I missed getting our license, you gave Clara tainted medication, making her contract that disease?” “She’s only twenty!” “You don’t deserve to touch perfumery. Crippling your legs is a lesson.” Clara suddenly burst into tears, pointing at the medical notes on my table. “Willow, you planned this all along! You hurt me and then falsified medical records!” “Do you hate me that much? Then I’d rather die!” “Have you already spread these medical records? What’s the point of me living anymore!” She lunged towards the corner of the table, but Sebastian caught her in his arms. He looked at me, his eyes icy. “Willow Hayes, you’d force my sister to her death just for a piece of paper?” “Publicly apologize. Admit that you deliberately harmed her out of personal resentment and falsified medical records.” Tears in my eyes, I shook my head. “Sebastian, this will ruin the Hayes family’s centuries-old reputation!” “I didn’t do it. I will never admit to it.” But no matter how I defended myself, how I begged him to have the ointment tested, he only signaled his men to hold my head, and under the gaze of all the clubhouse members, made me kowtow a hundred times to Clara. Blood dripped onto the floor. Onlookers raised their phones. I finally couldn’t bear it anymore and passed out. When I woke, I received a message from his confidant, telling me to find Sebastian at the casino to explain everything clearly. Clutching the last shred of hope for Sebastian, I made my way there. But I heard with my own ears that he intended to give me away to someone else. The doctor, seeing my painful expression, said no more and handed me a course of post-exposure prophylaxis. “Take these on time. Come back for a check-up in a month.” I thanked her softly and dazedly made my way back to my place. My phone lit up with a message, accompanied by a boat ticket. “Willow, don’t be afraid. Brother is coming to pick you up. No matter the cost, Brother will cure you.” Tears streamed down, and I cried myself to sleep. Half-awake, half-asleep, my injured knee was forcefully pressed. The intense pain made me scream and jolt upright. “Don’t touch me—!” “Willow, it’s me.” In the dim light, I heard his voice. It was Sebastian. He carried the scent of sandalwood from a recent shower, the exact same fragrance Clara habitually used. My body instantly stiffened. He hugged me indifferently, saying, “So I left you with that thug and didn’t care? Do you really have to make such a fuss with me, not letting me touch you?” “Who in the underworld doesn’t know you’re mine? With me around, who would dare truly harm you in the slightest? See, everything’s fine now.” I couldn’t stop trembling, tears rolling down my cheeks. He frowned, seemingly finding my reaction overly dramatic. “Willow, you’re a Hayes lady, a perfumer. Is your spirit really so fragile?” He picked up the box of medicine from the bedside table, his tone softening slightly. “Do your knees still hurt? I specially had Black Jade Ointment brought from the South Seas. With this, combined with physical therapy, you’ll be well soon, it won’t affect your walking or perfuming later.” “Stop making a fuss. Tomorrow morning, go and apologize to Clara in person. Then this matter will be over.” The fragile calm I had maintained finally shattered. I raised my tear-filled eyes to him. “Sebastian, let’s get a divorce.” No sooner had I spoken than he looked down at his phone, a smile playing on his lips. He abruptly looked up at me. “What did you just say?” Without waiting for me to repeat myself, he impatiently waved his hand. “I just landed a big deal. If you want to buy anything, just charge it to the account. Consider it my compensation.” “Clara said she wants to help you pick out your wedding dress. You’re coming with me to the bridal shop now to try on dresses for Clara to see.” He half-threatened, half-coaxed, pressing gently on my injured knee. “This time, cooperate with her properly. Let her blow off some steam. Understand?” “If anything goes wrong again, I really will send you to that buyer, you know.” He completely ignored my reaction, forcefully taking me to the bridal shop. I silently followed. The jade pendant my mother had left me, I had always kept at the bridal shop, intending to wear it at the wedding. Now, it seemed unnecessary. In the bridal shop, Clara was already waiting, still obedient and timid. Though I couldn’t see, I could hear her delicate voice: “Chloe… please don’t be like this. I’m scared.” “Willow!” Sebastian warned, squeezing my wrist, then pressed lightly on my injured knee. I paled with pain, gritting my teeth to squeeze out, “No.” Clara then smiled and said, “Willow, let’s go look at the dresses.” The assistant brought out the wedding dress Sebastian had specifically customized for me. Clara’s voice brightened. She nestled against Sebastian and whispered, “Brother, can I try it on? Just for a moment…” Her voice suddenly choked. “I’m already… not clean. I might never wear my own wedding dress in this life… Just to fulfill a dream, okay?” Sebastian’s voice was gentle. “Okay.” He turned to me, the pressure in his tone implicit. I closed my eyes, nodding. “Thank you, Brother!” Clara chirped excitedly, then exclaimed, “This jade pendant… it’s so beautiful. Brother, can I have it? I want it as a keepsake.” I gasped, lunging forward, trying to retrieve the pendant. “No! This can’t—” “Give it to her.” Sebastian’s hand was already in front of me. My heart felt struck by a heavy hammer. I clutched the jade pendant. “Sebastian, this is my mother’s only memento…” “So what?” He unceremoniously pried my fingers open. “Don’t forget, you already owe Clara. This jade pendant will serve as compensation.” “No! You can punish me however you want… but not this!” I desperately tried to snatch it back. Just as my hand was about to touch the jade pendant, Clara suddenly shrieked and recoiled! “Willow, why did you push me!” “Clara!” Sebastian shoved me aside, striding forward to catch Clara. My feet found no purchase, and I tumbled down the stairs. My bones felt dislocated, the pain so intense that my vision blurred to black. A metallic sweetness surged into my throat, and I coughed up dark blood.

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The day before our engagement party, Bella, my heiress girlfriend, seemed distant as we walked through the city. I bought a cheap sandwich and offered it to her, but she slapped it to the ground. “Cole!” she snapped. “The Lancasters need someone who fits in. This is embarrassing. How can my parents ever accept you?” Humiliated, I tossed the ruined sandwich away. For the sake of our four years together, I just said, “Whatever you say.” The next day, she called off our engagement to marry Spencer Croft. “Cole, Spencer tried to die for me,” she claimed tearfully. “Once he’s stable, I’ll come back to you.” Again, I only replied, “Whatever you say,” and ended it. Four years later, she appeared at my small house, wearing the ring I’d given her. “Cole, Spencer finally agreed to divorce! We can be together now!” she announced, beaming. “I told you I’d return once he let go of his obsession!” I frowned, annoyed by her performance. Of all days to run into her here. Pushing her toward the door, I said, “Move. You’re making me late to pick up my son from school.” 1. Bella followed me out. “I’ve checked, Cole. No other woman has set foot in this house in four years. What son are you talking about?” She softened her tone. “I know you’re angry. I’ll take you home with me right now. I know your family is poor, just scraping by with that chicken farm, but I’ve already convinced my parents. They won’t look down on you anymore.” I turned, my brow furrowed. “I’ve told you before, it’s a free-range poultry business. It spans three mountains.” Bella scoffed. “It’s still just chickens. For heaven’s sake, don’t mention that in front of my parents. It’s so… provincial.” I gave up. There was no getting through to a clueless urbanite like her. She had no concept of the value of a massive, organic, free-range operation. That business had lifted my family out of poverty and made us wealthy long ago. I quickened my pace. I didn’t want to be late picking up Noah. Bella hurried to keep up. “I can take you back to the Lancaster estate right now. The villa is huge. Spencer hasn’t moved out yet, but there’s plenty of room for you. Just… be nice to him. He’s very sensitive, so you’ll have to be the bigger person and not provoke him.” “What the hell?” I stopped dead, staring at her. “You’re not even divorced, and you’re coming on to me, asking me to move in with your current husband? What am I, your side piece? Your kept man?” “Are you insane?” I yanked open my car door and slid in, desperate to get away from her. She, with a familiarity that was both infuriating and chilling, opened the passenger door and got in. “I always told you to lock the doors as soon as you get in. For safety,” she chided, as if no time had passed at all. “Still so careless after all these years.” Seeing her sitting there, so comfortable, so entitled, sent a surge of pure rage through me. “Get out. Now!” She clicked her seatbelt into place, a smug look on her face. “Weren’t you going to pick up your son? You’d better get driving, or you’ll be late.” I glanced at the time. She was right. If all the other kids were gone, Noah would be sad waiting all by himself. I stomped on the gas, peeling out of the driveway. “When you see my son,” I growled, “don’t you dare say anything stupid.” “Fine, I won’t,” she said breezily. “You’re really committed to this act, Cole. Let’s see where you conjure up a son from.” As I drove, I forced myself to calm down. At a red light, staring at the gridlocked traffic ahead, I spoke. “Bella, why were you so sure that after four years, I’d still be waiting for you?” My low, serious tone seemed to finally get through to her. A flicker of unease crossed her face, but it was quickly replaced by her usual arrogance. “After knowing me, what other woman could possibly measure up?” she said with a shrug. “Besides me, what kind of sophisticated people could you possibly meet? If you weren’t waiting for me, who else would there be?” I let out a long sigh. So that was it. In her mind, I wasn’t worthy of meeting anyone better. That’s why she could leave without a second thought and come back with such unapologetic entitlement. The light turned green. I hit the gas. As we cleared the intersection, I said quietly, “Bella, I’m not joking. I’m married. I have a child. When I park, you need to get out and leave. I don’t want you interfering with my life.” She frowned slightly. “Cole, do you really think you can fool me with this? I know you’re angry. You can throw whatever tantrum you want. I’ll be right here with you until you’ve gotten it all out of your system and you’re ready to come back to me.” 2. If words wouldn’t work, maybe the truth would. “Daddy! You’re late today!” Noah ran towards me, his arms outstretched, a sweet smile on his face. “Daddy had to go to the old house to get something. Sorry to keep you waiting, buddy. How about I make it up to you with some fries when we get home?” “Okay!” he cheered, hugging me tightly. Bella stared, speechless. She clearly hadn’t expected me to actually have a child. Her face soured. “Cole, there’s a limit to your jokes. You can’t just grab some random kid off the street. This is kidnapping! Do you want to go to jail? Take him back right now.” She grabbed Noah’s arm, intending to drag him back to the school. I slapped her hand away and pulled my son into my arms. “What are you doing?” One of the teachers saw us and walked over. “Oh, you must be Noah’s mom! We see his dad all the time, but we’ve been so eager to finally meet you.” Bella’s jaw dropped. She looked from the teacher to me. “He’s really your son?” “Of course.” I started to leave, but she blocked my path, her eyes fixed on the teacher. “How old is he?” she demanded. “Noah just turned three.” Three years old. Bella looked at Noah, who was a head taller than most of the other kids his age. Her hands shot out and gripped my arms. “Cole, his age… you’re lying, aren’t you? He’s supposed to be four. Our premature baby… he didn’t die, did he? You hid him from me all this time!” I looked at her, my voice flat. “If our child had lived, would you have still married Spencer?” “I…” She was at a loss for words, then her face crumpled. “I had to. Spencer would have died.” I sneered. “You don’t have the right to even mention our child.” “Cole, I’m taking you and our son home. Right now.” Her voice was firm, resolute. “My parents have been hoping for a grandchild for years. If you bring our son home, they won’t care about our families’ status anymore.” I could feel my eyes rolling into the back of my head. “Who wants to go with you? I told you, he’s not your son. Are you deaf?” “Stop this, Cole. I will not allow a Lancaster to be raised out here in the world like this. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? How could you let our son attend a school like this, in such a rundown, crowded area? How is he supposed to get a proper education here?” I looked at the school, then back at her. This was one of the top-rated state schools, a direct feeder for the best magnet programs in the city. What did her snooty, overpriced “elite” private school have on that? Ava had specifically transferred Noah here so he wouldn’t grow up with the arrogant, entitled attitude of kids like Bella. To hear her belittle it like this… I was suddenly profoundly grateful I’d never married someone so shortsighted. “Stay away from us,” I said coldly. “This has nothing to do with you.” “If he’s not my son, then whose is he?” She turned back to the teacher. “You, tell me. Who is listed as the mother on his records?” To protect our privacy, we’d left the mother’s information blank on the school forms. The teacher didn’t know who Noah’s mom was. When Bella heard this, she became even more certain. “Cole, it must have been so hard for you, raising him all alone. You’ve had your fun. Now, come home.” Noah didn’t understand what we were arguing about. He just whispered in my ear, “Daddy, what about my fries?” Bella reacted as if he’d said something monstrous. “Cole, how could you let my son eat that garbage? You were always eating that cheap street food, and now you’re feeding that filth to him? What if he gets sick? Can you take that responsibility? He is the sole heir to the Lancaster family!” My son wanted me to make him fries at home, with our private chef. How was that unhygienic? I ignored her and carried Noah to the car. She blocked the door. “Don’t get into this piece of junk. It’s not good enough for my son.” To keep a low profile, I drove a modest sedan. It wasn’t fancy, but the back seat was completely customized for Noah’s safety and comfort. If Bella had bothered to look inside for even a second, she would have seen that I had a child and that he was cherished. But she never paid attention to any detail about my life. She just pointed to her Mercedes. “Cole, stop pretending. Only I can give you and the boy the life you deserve.” Just then, Spencer walked up, dressed in a ridiculously expensive designer suit that was completely out of place on the bustling street. He picked his way through the crowd with a look of distaste. “Bella, darling, I thought you were picking up Cole. What’s the delay? We have that meeting with the mysterious new CEO of Westwood Corporation, remember?” The moment Bella saw him, her expression softened. “I remember, Spencer, don’t worry. I won’t forget what’s important to you. Cole is being a little difficult, but I’ll handle it and be right with you. You look so handsome today, you’ll definitely charm Ms. Westwood. She’ll be lucky to have you as a husband. The Westwoods are one of the most powerful families in the country, even bigger than ours. You’ll be so happy, Spencer. Just give me a minute, okay?” I stared at them. Were they serious? Spencer was fine with Bella chasing her ex, as long as Bella helped him land a new rich wife? And Ms. Westwood… surely they didn’t mean my wife?

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At eighteen, Mike stormed into my home and shot my stepfather ten times. As police dragged him away, bloodied, he grinned at my shocked face. “Rachel, don’t be afraid. No monster will ever hurt you in the name of family again.” After prison, he found me scavenging through trash, bullied by thugs. His fists tightened. He took me to the city’s underbelly, where we knelt, and he rebuilt himself into the feared King of the Docks. On our wedding day, he casually gifted me the entire Copperfield district as a dowry, declaring to all that I, Rachel Vance, was his life. But at twenty-eight, he was drugged during a deal and spent a night with another woman. Clutching divorce papers, I was intercepted by him and his men before reaching the lawyer. He loaded a pistol, pressed it to his own heart, and vowed, “Rachel, I’d rather die than lose you.” Unable to bear it, I relented. Later, I saw Mike with that woman—her belly rounded—shopping in an upscale baby store. The powerful man knelt before me, eyes red, explaining, “Lila is your father’s illegitimate daughter. He’s badly injured overseas; only she can bring him back. I swear, once I deal with that beast, I’ll send her away.” Swallowing the pain, I believed him again. Until this time, with one call, he diverted the heart my mother had waited ten years for. 1. I stormed into Lila’s VIP hospital room, ignoring the room full of dark-suited bodyguards and doctors. I raised my hand and slapped Mike hard across the face. He turned his head, his tongue tracing his bleeding lip. When he turned back, there was no anger in his eyes, only a complex look as he explained, “Lila was shot in the chest trying to save me. I couldn’t just leave her to die.” I gave a cold laugh and turned to leave. I used a secret way to arrange for my mother’s transfer to a hospital abroad. Then I found a lawyer to draft divorce papers and went to find Lila alone. “We’re both women, I know exactly what you want.” Lila’s eyes darted away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Mike wasn’t wearing his bulletproof vest that day. Where was it? Don’t tell me you don’t know.” Lila’s hands clenched, her knuckles white. “I don’t want to be part of your game anymore,” I said, handing her the divorce papers. “If I give these to him personally, he won’t sign them. You figure out a way to get him to sign without knowing.” Lila pursed her lips. “You’ve misunderstood. I never intended to ruin your marriage.” “This is your only chance,” I said coldly. “Think carefully.” Lila stared at the agreement for a long time before finally taking it. “Thank you, Rachel, for making our little family whole.” A family of three? My heart felt like it had been violently ripped out. “Then I wish you… a happy and complete family.” “And don’t call me Rachel. I find it sickening.” I couldn’t bring myself to forgive Mike and Lila. The only thing I could do was to tear Mike out of my very being. Returning to the castle Mike had spent billions building for me, I began to pack away the gifts he had given me over the years, one by one, into cardboard boxes. When I was ten, he drew a castle, two adults, and a child on a blank piece of paper, saying, “This will be our family portrait one day.” When I was eighteen, covered in blood, he placed eighteen blood-stained bullet casings in my palm. “From now on, you are the freest Rachel Vance.” When I was twenty-five, he controlled the entire underworld empire of the Docks and couldn’t wait to propose to me. The hand that had never trembled while holding a gun and taking a life, shook uncontrollably as he placed the wedding ring on my finger. It took him several minutes to finally put it on. He smiled, both cocky and arrogant. “Rachel, for the rest of our lives, you are mine. You can’t escape.” Finally, there was a deed to half of Copperfield, with “My heart, for you” written on the back. My eyes burned with unshed tears. Sadly, another woman already occupied his heart. I gave a self-deprecating laugh, packed everything, and scheduled a timed delivery to Mike. I specifically instructed that it was a birthday gift and had to be delivered precisely on time. The next day, I was woken by noise downstairs. Moving boxes were piled in the living room. Mike was cradling a crying baby, softly cooing. Lila stood beside them, the three forming a harmoniously jarring picture. The setting sun cast a fleeting, gentle glow on his hard profile. Lila whispered, “I can just go back to my old apartment…” “It’s not safe there. I can only rest easy with you living here,” Mike cut her off, his tone leaving no room for argument. I leaned against the doorframe, watching for a long time, unnoticed. Until Lila picked up our framed photo from the mantelpiece. “Mike,” I said coldly, “do you even remember where this is? What kind of riff-raff are you bringing in?” Mike finally realized I was home. “This is the safest place. Once things calm down, I’ll send them away.” Our eyes met. One cold, one weary. I looked away first. “Whatever.” But Lila stepped forward, offering an envelope. “Rachel, thank you for your hospitality. Here’s a small token of my appreciation.” I opened it. It was the signed divorce agreement. The bold, powerful signature “Mike Sterling” at the bottom was just like his resolute promise to love only me all those years ago. My fingers trembled imperceptibly as I held the agreement. I hadn’t expected it to be so quick, so easy. Since it was, I didn’t need to cling on any longer. “What’s that?” Mike reached for it, but I deftly dodged him, stuffing it into my bag. “My belongings are none of your concern.” Mike stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly pulled a black card from his wallet and handed it to Lila. “Take this. The PIN is 0608.” The PIN was still my birthday, yet the bank card was now a gift to appease someone else. I curved my lips in a sarcastic smile. “It seems I’m interrupting your happy family of three here.” With that, I turned to leave. Just as I brushed past him, Mike snatched the divorce agreement from my bag. A rare flicker of seriousness crossed his eyes. But he was interrupted by a child’s wail. “It’s my fault. My presence has made Rachel angry with you, Mike. If she doesn’t want me here, I’ll just leave…” Saying this, she hurried towards the door with the baby. This time, Mike had no mind to look at the paper. He stepped forward to block Lila and her child, his tone towards me colder than I’d ever heard it. “Rachel, be sensible. Lila saved my life. I can’t just watch them live in danger, can I?” “They’re innocent. Even if your father hurt you and your mother because of her, it wasn’t Lila’s fault. Do you understand?” Realizing his tone was too harsh, he glanced at Lila, then lowered his voice, coaxing me, “Even if I have a child, you’re the only one I care about.” My gaze swept over the child in Lila’s arms. Care? If he truly cared, how could he bear to let me be a laughingstock again and again? I opened the door and walked out. I had already booked a taxi. Just as I pulled open the car door, my wrist was seized from behind. Mike had followed me out. “I said I’d take you.” “Mike, I’m not the one who needs you right now.” Mike’s pupils constricted, his grip tightening. “Rachel…” His palm was scalding, burning like a branding iron. “Oh, come on, handsome. If he’s that sincere, lady, just go with him,” the driver said, canceling the order. Today’s snow was heavier than usual, falling thick and fast. Getting another taxi would mean a long wait. I finally compromised. “Fine, you can take me.” Mike’s expression softened slightly. He took my hand, his fingers forcefully interlacing with mine. “Your hands are freezing. You didn’t wear gloves?” “Forgot,” I said calmly, not mentioning that my gloves were always kept in his car. On the way, Mike tried to lighten the mood, reminiscing about old times. “I remember the first time I fought for you. It was also a heavy snowfall like this. After the fight, I grabbed a chocolate bar for you, and it melted in your hand.” I remained silent, but Mike didn’t give up, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Next month is our wedding anniversary. What gift do you want? I need to prepare in advance.” My expression flickered. I suddenly wanted to tell Mike directly that I had decided to divorce him. My phone rang before I could speak. “Mike! The baby won’t stop crying for some reason. I can’t comfort him.” Lila’s tearful voice mingled with the baby’s hoarse cries. Mike’s face instantly changed. “What’s wrong? I’m coming right back!” The call ended. He didn’t hesitate. “Rachel, can you take a taxi to the hospital yourself?” “Okay.” I looked at Mike for a few seconds, then calmly agreed, swallowing the words I had been about to say. He was so close to knowing my decision. The snow was too heavy, and the location too remote. I couldn’t find a taxi at all. I trudged through the snow, my legs numb with cold. Tears streamed down my face, instantly freezing into ice. I finally reached the civil affairs office, my face almost transparently pale, my voice lacking any warmth. After warming up in the heated office for a while, I submitted the divorce papers to the staff. I’d requested expedited processing; they said I’d have the divorce certificate in seven days. Returning to the castle, only the guest bedroom light was on. Mike’s gentle voice seeped from under the door. “…Daddy and Mommy will always love our little baby the most…” He was singing a lullaby to coax the child to sleep. “What should we name the baby?” Lila asked softly. “Leo,” Mike blurted out. Star-like brilliance, the light of the emperor. That was the name he and I had chosen for our future child years ago, after spending a night poring over dictionaries. Now, it was easily given to someone else. I curved my lips in a self-deprecating smile and turned to go upstairs. Late at night, hot breath ghosted against my neck, and cool lips pressed against my skin. “Mike!” I woke with a start, pushing him away forcefully. “Don’t touch me! I find it disgusting!” “You despise me?” He froze, his eyes instantly darkening. He ignored my struggles and kissed me fiercely. “Hiss—” I bit his tongue. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Mike winced, but still didn’t let go. My nightgown was roughly torn open, revealing my pale, tender skin. His touch everywhere only caused waves of nausea. Tears silently streamed down, splashing onto his hand. “Alright, don’t cry.” He finally stopped, fumbling to wipe my tears. “It’s my fault.” I clenched my fists, staring at him. “You said everything could go back to how it was…” “But Mike, you never used to be like this.” Mike paused, then after a moment, he whispered, “I’m sorry.” He took a pillow and went to the sofa. Perhaps due to my tears last night, Mike felt guilty and suggested we go to the shooting range to relax. When he pulled up the car, I was about to get into the passenger seat, but Lila squeezed past me. He didn’t notice at all, getting out of the car himself, placing his hand on Lila’s head to shield her as he helped her in. After we arrived, he was constantly doting on her, completely forgetting I was behind him. “Careful, it’s slippery.” “Look down. Put on your goggles.” “Drink some hot water, don’t catch a cold.” Every word felt like a bullet tearing through me. I silently walked to a shooting lane, picked up a silver Desert Eagle, expertly loaded and cocked it, then aimed. These were the things he had taught me when I was twenty-five, whispering softly in my ear, guiding my hands. But now, all his attention was on another woman, afraid she might suffer the slightest mishap. Ten minutes later, he finally remembered me, but only to say, “Rachel, can you hold the baby for a moment? I’m going to teach Lila how to shoot.” I ignored him, pulling the trigger repeatedly. The gunshots echoed, startling the baby into loud cries. Lila immediately persuaded, “I won’t learn anymore, Mike. Go accompany Rachel.” Mike frowned, picked up the baby, and walked towards the rest area to find his assistant. “Rachel,” Lila approached, holding a small pistol. Her smile was gentle, but her eyes were cold. “I heard lead bullets are safe, but I’m curious what happens if you’re shot within a meter.” She suddenly raised her arm and pulled the trigger! Bang! The gun fired. The bullet tore through my wrist bone. Blood spattered out. Lila’s scream rang out simultaneously, and Mike rushed over almost immediately. “Mike!” I cried out in pain. But he ran straight to Lila, his expression frantic, scooping her up and rushing out, not once looking back at me. Warm blood soaked through my sleeve. I vaguely recalled when I was twenty-five, he held my hand and said: “Rachel, guns are dangerous, but with me, you’ll never be harmed.” My vision blurred. I sank weakly to the ground. When I woke again, I was in a hospital. Both hands were bandaged. The slightest movement brought excruciating pain. Mike sat by my bedside, dark circles under his eyes. “Rachel, you’re awake?” His voice was hoarse. “Does it still hurt?” Seeing his seemingly genuine concern, I suddenly felt very tired. “Did you investigate what happened?” “It was just an accident,” Mike replied without thinking, tucking me in. “Rest well and don’t overthink it, okay?” I pressed my lips together, wanting to speak, but then I noticed that my uninjured right hand was also bandaged. “What happened here?” “Lila’s hand was severely mangled, and the doctors said she needed a skin graft. But she’s allergic to artificial skin…” A chill spread through my body, bit by bit. “Your skin matched hers. The situation was too urgent, so I signed the consent form for you to donate skin to Lila.” He said it so casually, yet I felt as if I’d plunged into an ice abyss. My eyes widened in disbelief, trying to find a trace of a joke in his gaze, but tears welled up uncontrollably. Mike’s tone became urgent: “It was just a small piece from the inner arm. It won’t affect anything…” “Get out,” I said softly, closing my eyes. “I don’t want to see you.” Mike froze, reaching out to touch me, but I fiercely slapped his hand away. “Get out!” I shrieked hysterically. “Get out!” The wound burst open, blood seeping through the bandages. Mike’s face changed, and he frantically pressed the call button. “Rachel, calm down! Your wound has reopened!” I heard nothing, struggling wildly, my arm crashing against the bed rail. The nurse rushed in and held me down. A cold sedative was injected into my veins. My strength rapidly drained away. With my last ounce of energy, I squeezed out two words: “Divorce.” On the day I was discharged, Mike personally picked me up and took me home. Everything there was back to normal. All traces of Lila and the child were gone. Mike set out the food. “Try it. I haven’t cooked in a long time.” His expression was normal, but I felt something was off. I looked at him and asked directly, “Mike, I don’t want to interfere in your and Lila’s affairs anymore. If you have something to say, just say it.” “Don’t overthink it. Eat first.” He evaded the question, serving me food and soup. During the meal, there was only the faint sound of cutlery. He glanced at his watch occasionally, a habit of vigilance he’d developed over the years. My unease grew stronger. I hastily ate a few bites, and as soon as I stood up, a wave of dizziness sent me back down. Mike put down his utensils, his expression slowly turning cold, chilling to the bone. “Rachel, this is your punishment.” His tone was one I had never heard before, so devoid of warmth. “I’ve already sent Lila away, yet you still dared to leak her whereabouts to my enemies! She and the child were almost run over! Rachel, how could you become so vicious? That’s my child too!” Leaked whereabouts? Almost run over? I gritted my teeth. “I didn’t…” “Only I, Lila, and you knew about that house! Was she trying to get herself killed?” He suddenly pulled me up. “I’ve indulged you too much.” “Rachel, reflect on your actions.” With that, he personally locked me in the closet. The world instantly plunged into dead silence and darkness. When I was ten, my mother hid me in a closet, and I watched my father brutally assault her for three hours. Blood splattered all over the closet. I stayed in there for three days and three nights. It was Mike who found me and carried me out. Now, he was the one who personally locked me in. Cold sweat immediately drenched my back. Fear seized my heart. I huddled in the corner, breathing rapidly, unable to distinguish reality from illusion, my face ashen. Before consciousness faded, I saw him at our wedding three years ago, holding my hand, swearing to the heavens: “I, Mike Sterling, swear to God, I will never betray you, Rachel Vance, in this life.” That vow, once made, now burned to ash in an inferno. When I woke again, the air was thick with the smell of disinfectant.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394695”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel