Category: English

“You’ll regret this. The hundredth time, you’ll truly regret it.” When I said those words, there was still a flicker of light left in my eyes. I was the orphan of the Moon’s Edge Pack’s bravest warrior. The fated mate of the Alpha heir. The most beloved sister of the Protector leader. I should have had the strongest foundation in this world. But then an omega named Jasmine appeared. And everything collapsed. The credit for saving them was stolen. She staged her own framing. Leo and Ethan—every time, they chose to believe Jasmine. My hair was cut off. I was humiliated in public. I counted in my heart. From one to ninety-nine. In the Darkmoon Forest, I lay in a pool of blood. No one looked back. The hundredth time. I died. When the truth finally came to light, when a strange she-wolf named Nera appeared before them with absolute dominance. It was already too late. Casey POV In the Dark Moon Forest, towering pines blocked out the sunlight, creating a solemn and sacred atmosphere. I placed the wildflowers I’d picked before the memorial altar where my parents’ ashes had been scattered, feeling warmth rise in my eyes. My parents were the Moon’s Edge Pack’s bravest warriors, both killed in battle during a Rogue attack. From that moment on, I vowed to carry on their legacy and become the strongest female warrior in the pack. I touched the acceptance letter in my pocket from North America’s top werewolf training camp, finally feeling a weight lift from my heart. “Dad, Mom, I did it. I’ll carry on your honor.” I whispered to the wind. I’d worked so hard to get into that elite-only training camp. But I had to keep it a secret from my brother and Ethan. When I got back to the Pack house, the living room, usually so quiet, felt unusually tense. My brother Leo, the pack’s border patrol leader, and my mate Ethan, heir to the Moon’s Edge Pack Alpha. Both sat on the couch with dark expressions. Meanwhile, Jasmin stood to the side with her hair cut into a jagged, uneven mess, sobbing pitifully. “Alpha, Leo, don’t blame Casey. I know she didn’t mean to cut my hair like this. It’s all my fault for making her angry.” Jasmin looked utterly aggrieved, tears streaming down her face as she made her accusation. Hearing this, the fury in Ethan’s deep eyes intensified. “You don’t need to make excuses for her. Leo and I know her spoiled temper better than anyone!” “I’ve been too lenient with her! Don’t worry, Jasmin, we’ll get you justice today.” Leo chimed in, then turned his cold gaze on me with a stern tone. “Casey, look at what you’ve done! Apologize to Jasmin right now!” Seeing the flash of triumph in Jasmin’s eyes as she lowered her head, I kept my face expressionless and said nothing. I’d been training near the Dark Moon Forest these past few days and hadn’t even seen Jasmin. How could I have cut her hair? This was just another one of her self-staged frame-ups. But I didn’t explain. Because I knew that no matter how clumsy the lie, as long as it came from Jasmin’s mouth, Leo and Ethan would believe it without question. Seeing my lack of response, Leo’s anger grew. “You’ve really become lawless! Ethan, hold her down!” I looked at them in disbelief. Before I could react, Ethan had already strode forward, clamping down on my arms and pinning me in place. And Leo picked up a pair of sharp scissors and mercilessly grabbed my waist-length hair, cutting it off with a “snip.” Watching the strands of black hair fall, my heart suddenly ached. I remembered when I was little, how Leo would clumsily braid my hair with a comb. I remembered at my eighteenth birthday Mating Ball, how Ethan had gently stroked my long hair. He had loved it. Since my parents’ sacrifice, they had been the only support in my world. Until that brutal Rogue attack a year ago, when I fought desperately to drag their wounded bodies to safety, only to collapse from exhaustion myself. When I woke up, this Omega named Jasmin had stolen credit for my actions and become their “savior.” After that, everything changed. They pampered Jasmin endlessly, and despite me being Ethan’s Mate, they trampled me underfoot for her sake time and time again. My waist-length hair was completely cut away. Ethan released his grip, and Leo threw down the scissors. They immediately turned to comfort the frightened Jasmin, taking her to the dining room. From beginning to end, they never looked at me again. I stared at the hair scattered on the floor and laughed bitterly. It didn’t matter. I was about to enter the training camp anyway. Short hair would actually be more practical and convenient for training. The next morning when I opened my door, I found Leo and Ethan waiting outside. “Casey, you need to stop throwing these tantrums. Jasmin is our savior. You need to treat her well.” Leo said coldly. Ethan echoed him. “You know you’re my Mate. I’m only good to her to repay a debt. Don’t be jealous over something so pointless.” I’d heard these words so many times over the past year that I was sick of them. “95.” The two exchanged glances and said in unison. “What 95?” I looked at them quietly, my voice as flat and lifeless as stagnant water. “Leo, Ethan, this is the 95th time you’ve hurt me for Jasmin’s sake. By the 100th time, you’ll regret it completely!”

Casey POV Their faces instantly darkened. Ethan frowned. “Casey, don’t make such ridiculous jokes.” “I’m not joking.” Ethan was about to press further when suddenly his expression changed. A faint Mind-link came through the air. It was Jasmin. “Ethan, Leo… I can’t take this humiliation anymore. Since Casey can’t stand having me here, I’m leaving the Pack right now…” Jasmin’s tearful voice rang out. Hearing this, both men instantly panicked. Without a word of explanation to me, they immediately turned and rushed out like madmen. Watching their hastily disappearing backs, I smiled self-deprecatingly, turned around, and went back to my room to calmly pack my things. I didn’t keep a single gift that Ethan and Leo had given me. I threw them all in the trash. That evening, Ethan and Leo returned with Jasmin. The moment they saw me, they both scowled and started scolding. “Casey! Why did you send people to trash Jasmin’s room? You drove her to the point of wanting to leave the territory! If we hadn’t caught up with her in time, she really would have left!” Looking at their righteous indignation, all I felt was deep exhaustion. I didn’t even bother asking how Jasmin had staged the scene this time. My silence was taken as admission in their eyes. Leo held back his anger and said coldly, “Jasmin’s room is uninhabitable because of what you did, so she needs to stay with us for a while. Since you caused this mess, give your room to Jasmin.” I glanced at him. Too tired to argue, I simply tossed the room key on the table. I was leaving soon anyway. It didn’t matter where I stayed. Then Ethan frowned and added, “Also, Jasmin is allergic to pollen, so I’m having the rose garden in your yard completely removed.” My heart stabbed with pain. That rose garden was my mother’s favorite flower when she was alive. She had tended it herself. It was the only memento she’d left me! I stared hard at Ethan, but all I saw in his eyes was favoritism toward Jasmin. Soon, several lower-ranking wolves came with tools and headed to the backyard. I stood by the window, numbly watching as those beautiful roses were uprooted and crushed into the soil. Eventually I moved alone into the guest room next door. Looking at the empty room, I felt strangely relieved. Good. The traces of Casey should have been cleared away anyway. Late at night, a knock on the door broke the silence. I opened it to find Jasmin. She wore a wolf fang necklace around her neck and showed it off to me with a smug expression. “Casey, look! Leo gave me this today. Don’t you think it’s beautiful?” My pupils constricted sharply. That necklace was the last memento my parents had left us! Leo had actually given it to some outsider Omega?! “Give it back! You don’t deserve to wear it!” I instinctively reached out to snatch the necklace back. Seeing me make a move, a triumphant smile appeared on Jasmin’s face. She deliberately took a step backward, then spread her arms and fell straight down the staircase. “Ahh!” Her scream immediately alarmed Leo and Ethan in the study. Both men rushed out. Seeing Jasmin lying motionless at the bottom of the stairs with blood covering her forehead, they paled in fear. “Jasmin!” Ethan raced downstairs and pulled her into his arms. Leo charged up and grabbed my wrist, demanding harshly, “I knew your obedience during the day was an act! The moment our backs are turned, you find ways to bully her! Casey, you’ve disappointed me so much!” Jasmin leaned against Ethan, breathing weakly. “Ethan, it hurts so much… I feel like I’m dying…” “Casey, use your healing power to save her now!” Ethan turned and roared at me. I possessed a rare healing ability among wolves, but each use consumed a great deal of my life force. I gritted my teeth and violently shook off Leo’s hand. “I won’t! She staged that fall herself!” The two men were furious. Leo snatched the necklace from Jasmin’s neck and held it high, his eyes blood-red as he threatened, “Casey, you won’t do it? Then I’ll smash this necklace as compensation to Jasmin!” Ethan released suffocating Alpha pressure and glared at me through clenched teeth. “If you dare let anything happen to her, I’ll reject you!” I looked at these two men I had once cared about most, threatening me with my parents’ memento for the sake of a lying she-wolf. My chest felt stuffed with grief that couldn’t be released, hurting so much I felt ready to explode. I stared at Leo, my voice choking. “So Mom and Dad’s memento… you really gave it to her?” Then I looked at Ethan, my eyes frighteningly red. “So in your heart, I’m not even worth as much as some outsider Omega?” Both men froze. Before they could speak, I snatched the necklace from Leo’s hand and said slowly, enunciating every word. “Remember this. This is the 96th time.”

Casey POV In the end, I walked over to Jasmin and placed my hand over her wound. Brilliant white light flared. I was forced to expend massive amounts of healing power until my vision blurred and I finally collapsed from exhaustion. The next day, I woke up in a hospital bed at the pack hospital. No one was by my side. I dragged my weakened body out of the hospital. Just as I reached the entrance, my phone vibrated. It was a text from Jasmin. “How does it feel to be falsely accused with no way to explain yourself? Casey, you can’t win against me!” “See? With just one word from me, Leo and Ethan won’t take your side. You must be so upset, right? Don’t worry, I’ve prepared a surprise for you. Make sure to check it out.” A surprise? Remembering all the tricks and frame-ups she’d orchestrated before, I sneered and put my phone away. As I was about to cross the street, a black SUV suddenly came racing toward me like it had gone mad! BANG! The violent impact sent me flying. Because I was too weak from overusing my healing power, I couldn’t call on my wolf in time. I crashed heavily to the ground. Blood blurred my vision. Pain tore through every part of my body. My consciousness grew hazy. Through the fog, I felt pack guards carrying me to an operating room. Voices clamored around me. “That Jasmin woman woke up yesterday and is perfectly fine, but she keeps saying this hurts and that hurts. Alpha Ethan called all the surgeons over to examine her! Now there’s not even a doctor available to operate on Casey! What are we supposed to do?” “Go ask quickly if they can spare one doctor for the surgery!” Ten minutes later, someone came running back, their tone full of helplessness. “They refused! They insist we send her to a human hospital, and they’ll cover the costs!” “A human hospital?! She’s so badly injured and her healing ability is suppressed. How can she possibly survive the trip to a human hospital?!” Chaotic arguing filled my ears, but I couldn’t make out anything clearly. In a daze, I seemed to see the past. Back then, when I got even a minor injury during training, Leo would worry endlessly. Ethan would stay by my side constantly, using his Alpha pheromones to comfort me. But that was all a long, long time ago. Now there was no one by my side. My eyelids felt heavy as lead. My will gradually faded. Before losing consciousness completely, “The… the 97th time…” When I woke again, I saw two faces full of guilt. Leo tucked the blanket around me, his tone apologetic. “Casey, I’m sorry. We didn’t know it was you who got into the accident.” Ethan brought over a cup of hot water to feed me. “You were fine when you left. How did you get hit?” Remembering the messages I’d received before the accident, I looked away, my voice hoarse. “Ask Jasmin.” The expressions on both Leo and Ethan’s faces froze, instantly turning dark. “Casey, why are you still trying to frame Jasmin? She’s a fragile Omega. How could she possibly plan something like this?” “Exactly! Jasmin is still lying in the hospital. How would she have time to hurt you!” Seeing their absolute certainty, I didn’t want to waste more words. “I’m tired. Get out.” The two men, who had more to say, finally held back after seeing my pale face. Leo and Ethan left the room one after the other. A few minutes later, my phone on the table rang. “Casey, this is the instructor from the werewolf training camp. Can you report on schedule in one week?” “Yes, I can leave anytime…” Before I finished speaking, the door was pushed open. Leo and Ethan walked in with furrowed brows, looking suspicious. “What do you mean ‘leave’? Where are you going?” I calmly hung up the phone. “I was asking about discharge. Why are you back?” Ethan was about to press further when a nurse burst in urgently. “Alpha Ethan, Leo, Miss Jasmin just threw up…” Watching them leave in a hurry, I smiled silently and bitterly.

Casey POV Over the next few days, Leo and Ethan rarely appeared. Even when they occasionally came by, they’d only sit for a moment before finding an excuse to leave. I knew they were constantly attending to Jasmin. Because every day, Jasmin sent me photos and videos. Leo would hunt game himself just to make her meat soup. Ethan bought her all kinds of gifts. Jewelry meant to please her filled half her hospital room. I never replied once. I left the hospital without telling anyone. As I reached the border of the territory, several Rogues with glowing green eyes suddenly leapt out from behind me. Because I’d overused my healing power earlier and my body hadn’t fully recovered, I couldn’t shift into wolf form at all. I struggled desperately but was knocked unconscious. I don’t know how long passed. When I opened my eyes again, I saw Jasmin, also tied up. When the Rogues weren’t paying attention, Jasmin looked over with an arrogant expression and whispered. “Good, you’re awake. These Rogues have already sent a message to Leo and Ethan saying you and I were both kidnapped. Casey, guess what? When they have to choose, who will matter most to them?” I looked coldly at Jasmin, wanting to ask why she kept repeating these boring games. In the end, I ignored her. A few minutes later, the car door opened. I was standing by a river with rushing currents. Several SUVs came speeding from the distance. After Leo and Ethan got out, Jasmin immediately put on a pitiful expression, tears streaming down her face. The Rogue leader immediately pressed his claws against mine and Jasmin’s throats. Leo’s face darkened. “Whatever conditions you want, name them and let them go!” The Rogue leader snorted coldly. “We want you to give up that eastern territory! And as an exchange, you can only take one person today! Choose!” I watched as both men’s faces turned extremely ugly. Leo was furious but didn’t dare provoke them rashly. He could only suppress his anger to negotiate. “Let them go, and we can discuss the other conditions!” “You can only take one! Choose quickly, or I’ll bite through their throats!” Jasmin cried even more heart-wrenchingly, struggling constantly. The Rogues removed her gag. “Leo, Ethan, save me! I’m so scared! I don’t want to die!” Watching this tearful performance, my expression remained calm throughout. Seeing they still wouldn’t agree, the Rogues even started a countdown. Both men looked conflicted, their eyes constantly shifting between Jasmin and me. “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…” By the count of “five,” when Jasmin and I were about to be pushed into the river, Jasmin let out a scream. Leo finally lost his composure and shouted, “Save Jasmin first! She saved our lives. Casey, trust me, I can definitely save you.” Ethan also stated his position. “Jasmin is just a fragile Omega. She can’t withstand this. Casey, you’re a warrior’s daughter. Don’t worry, we’ll come for you right away.” From the moment they hesitated, I’d already predicted this outcome. But hearing them say it out loud now, I felt the last thread of hope in my heart completely severed. I couldn’t help but laugh. After the choice was made, Jasmin was pulled back. And I was pushed off the high bridge. I watched Leo and Ethan run desperately toward Jasmin and closed my eyes in despair. The cold wind cut my skin like knives. There was no blood, but it still felt like being tortured. Dense pain invaded every corner of my body, making me wish for death. In an instant, many images flashed through my mind. Leo, holding me and crying when our parents died, swearing he would always protect me. Ethan, at the Mating Ball when we found out we were Mates. His eyes reddening as he promised to love me. This was how we parted ways. The icy river water dragged my body downward. I grew faint. My strength slipped away…

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My younger sister Ella and I liked the same person for ten years. Ethan White said he liked gentle and considerate girls. Ella was a natural at acting cute. I couldn’t pull it off. Whenever the three of us were together, he only talked to Ella. I sat beside them like a telephone pole. On college graduation day, he and Ella got their marriage license. I left in a huff. Went abroad, got an MBA with a full scholarship. Hustled for four years building a startup. By year six, the company went public. Recently I heard Ethan White’s cash flow had dried up. He’s been begging people everywhere for investment, and posted on Instagram: “Meeting a major investor tomorrow, wish me luck!” Ella commented below: Honey, you’ve got this! You’re the best! I looked at the schedule my secretary sent for tomorrow. 9:30 AM, meeting with a small company CEO about financing. The name column read— Ethan White. My mom called begging me: “Jenna, Ethan White can barely hold on, you have to help.” “Help with what?” “His company’s in trouble, looking for investors everywhere. You studied abroad all those years, you must know people in this business, right? Help make a connection.” Mom said this casually, like she was asking what to cook for dinner. “I’ll see what I can do.” “Don’t just ‘see.’ Ella’s anxious. And you—over thirty and still not married, what’s the point of building such a big career? Look at your sister, what a great marriage she has.” “You’ve been drifting around abroad for six years, not even coming home for holidays. After Ella married Ethan, she’s been taking care of me and your father constantly. What have you ever done?” “But when Dad had surgery that year, I paid all the hospital bills.” “So what, you transferred money and that makes you great? Two hundred thousand to buy yourself peace of mind? Where were you when your sister stayed in the hospital room for seven days and nights? Abroad making your money!” I didn’t respond. “You know what, you’ve been competitive since you were little. Always comparing yourself to Ella. What did you end up with? Ella married a good man. And you? Over thirty, alone abroad, not even someone who cares about you.” I looked at Ethan White’s name on the schedule, my finger lightly swiping across the screen. “Mom, it’s almost midnight.” “Fine, fine, you’re busy. You’re always busy.” Mom’s voice lowered a bit. “Your sister wants you to help find out what kind of person the investor Ethan’s meeting tomorrow is, so he can prepare.” The investor is me. “Okay, I’ll ask around.” After hanging up, a Snapchat message popped up. Ella’s voice message. Thirty-six seconds. She always sent voice messages, never typed. “Jenna, Mom told you, right? Ethan’s under so much pressure lately, he can’t sleep every night. You’ve been abroad so long, you must know lots of people in investment, right? Help us ask around.” She paused. “Oh, what is it you do again? Internet or something? I can’t quite remember.” Thirty-six seconds and she couldn’t even remember what I do. The news coverage of the IPO included my full name. She wouldn’t search for it. The family group chat was buzzing too. Mom: [Ethan has an important meeting tomorrow, let’s all cheer him on, hope he secures the investment!] Dad responded with a thumbs up. Ella: [Honey’s the best! He can definitely do it!] Twenty-something messages scrolled by, not one related to me. Six years. I only read messages in this group, never replied. I used to try. The day I closed Series A funding, I sent: Got Series A. No one asked what Series A was. Ella replied: [Jenna, you’re still working on that little project? Keep it up.] After that I stopped posting. Secretary Amy’s call came through. “Miss Harris, tomorrow’s 9:30 client’s assistant called to confirm the time. Materials are ready, should I send them now?” “Just leave them on the desk.” “Okay. Also—the assistant seemed pretty anxious, asking if they could meet ten minutes earlier.” “Tell them to wait in the reception room when they arrive. Time stays the same.” “Understood, Miss Harris. Anything else we need to prepare?” “No preparation needed. Just follow the standard financing consultation procedure.”

“Jenna, why aren’t you replying to my messages?” At seven in the morning, Ella’s second voice message exploded into my phone. Forty-two seconds. “Jenna, Ethan didn’t sleep well again last night, I’m so worried for him. I know you’re busy, you have your own things to handle. But if Ethan can’t close this deal—we might have to mortgage the house. Our daughter’s kindergarten fees next semester—” Her voice choked up here. House, daughter, tuition. Each keyword precisely stabbing at the two words “family obligation.” Ten years. She used sweetness and cuteness on Ethan White, used misery and pressure on me. Sweet and miserable were her only two frequencies. I didn’t reply. On the drive to the office, my phone rang again. Caller ID: Claire Smith. College roommate, hadn’t been in touch for over four years. “Jenna? Long time no see! Heard you’re back in the country?” “Why’d you think to reach out?” “Ha, your sister mentioned you at a dinner party a few days ago—” “What did she say?” “She said you went abroad because of a broken heart. That you liked her husband Ethan White for ten years, couldn’t win him over, and left for abroad in a fit.” My grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Everyone was feeling for you, how hard these years abroad must have been. Your sister even said you’re still not married, probably still can’t let go.” “Her eyes were red, weren’t they?” “How did you know? Yes! She said the person she feels most sorry for in this life is you. But she also said—she said you’ve been stubborn since childhood, competing with her over everything, even studying abroad was to prove you’re better than her. She said she actually feels bad for you.” Claire’s laugh was light. But every word was like a soft knife. Ella used the most pitiful posture to write my character for me—a pathetic older sister who failed at chasing a man, left abroad in a huff, worked desperately to prove herself, and still couldn’t get married in her thirties. Six years. Rang the bell at the New York Stock Exchange, market cap nearly ten billion, over five hundred employees globally. In her mouth, it all amounted to nothing more than “heartbroken woman who ran away and can’t get married.” “What else did she say?” “Said you cried at the airport that day, so heartbreaking—” “I cried at the airport?” “Yeah, she—” “Claire.” “Hm?” “My flight abroad was at 4 AM. I took a cab to the airport by myself. No one saw me off, no one knew what time I left.” Silence on the other end for two seconds. “Including Ella. She didn’t even know what day I departed, how would she know if I cried or not?” Claire went quiet. After a while she asked softly: “So these past few years—” “Pretty good. The company’s been busy.” “Your sister said you opened a small online shop abroad—” “Not a shop.” I didn’t explain further. “Claire, anything else? I’ve arrived at the office.” “Oh, okay, then let’s meet up sometime? Your sister said she’s always wanted to—” “No thanks. Busy lately.” I hung up. The car pulled into the underground garage. Engine off. She cried at the airport. She went abroad because of a broken heart. She still can’t let go. This narrative—how many people had Ella told? At how many dinner parties, with that red-eyed pitiful look, did she reduce my six years to a single sentence about running away? My phone vibrated. Family group chat. Ella: [Jenna’s been back in the country recently but won’t reach out to me. Is she still mad at me…] Mom: [That’s just how she is, don’t mind her. If she won’t help Ethan, forget it.] Dad: [Stop talking about it, the most important thing today is Ethan’s matter.] Every message defaulted to Ella’s version. I was the petty, grudge-holding, unmarriageable older sister. She was forever the kind yet heartbroken little sister. The elevator arrived. Amy stood at the corridor entrance. “Good morning, Miss Harris. Starlight Tech’s preliminary screening—the investment department added a few attachments, do you want to see them now?” “Bring them in.” “9:30 meeting time stays the same?” “Same.” “How should we approach it?” I walked into the office. “Follow the rules. Who he is doesn’t matter. The project speaks for itself.”

“Jenna, are you there?” 7:23 AM. Ethan White’s Snapchat message appeared on my phone. In six years, this was the first time he’d messaged me. Not to ask how I was. Not to say long time no see. To ask for help. “I’m meeting an investor this morning at 9:30, a company called Summit Holdings. You’ve been abroad so many years, do you know anyone there? Help me get some intel on what kind of person their CEO is.” I looked at this message. Ten seconds later, another one. “Ella said you did something with investment banking? Then you must understand this circle a bit. Help me ask around, this is really important to me.” Investment banking. That’s how Ella introduced me to him. He didn’t even know what I did. That “investor” was my company. That “CEO” was me. But he didn’t know. No one told him. Just like no one ever cared. I didn’t reply. Another message popped up. “Jenna? Did you see my message?” Then: “I know you might still care about what happened before. But that’s all in the past. Help me with this, for Ella’s sake.” Care about what happened before. He thought I wasn’t replying because I still resented him for marrying Ella. Not because I had over forty emails waiting to be processed first thing in the morning. He thought my world still revolved around him. I shut off my phone and walked into the company. By the time I sat at my desk, Amy had already organized the day’s schedule. “Miss Harris, I went through Starlight Tech’s due diligence attachments. The investment department has a finding.” “Go ahead.” “Their core product LINKER’s underlying conceptual framework highly matches the paper you published in the school journal in 2016. Keyword overlap exceeds seventy percent.” “I know.” “The investment department initially thought it was a related party project and specifically came to confirm with me. Your name isn’t in any of Starlight’s documents.” “Of course not.” Amy hesitated. “If we need to go through intellectual property procedures—” “We don’t.” “But Miss Harris—” “If a concept only stays in a notebook, it’s nothing. He at least took it and did something with it. Whether he succeeded is another matter.” Amy pressed her lips together. I finished flipping through his business plan. Four product lines, not one viable. Technical team configuration unbalanced. Customer acquisition cost model still using data from three years ago. My phone lit up again. Family group chat. Ella: [Honey’s already left! Everyone pray for him] Right after, she private messaged me: “Ethan said you didn’t reply to his message. Can you just help me this once? He’s really nervous.” Then an eight-second voice message: “Is your phone dead? Did you even see it or not?” I closed Snapchat. 8:50 AM. Amy poked her head through the door. “Miss Harris, Mr. White from Starlight Tech arrived at reception. He’s forty minutes early. Should we arrange for him to go to the meeting room?” “Arrange it. One glass of water.” “Okay.” She walked out two steps then turned back. “The receptionist said—after he arrived he made a phone call, not quietly.” “What did he say?” “He told whoever was on the phone: ‘Don’t worry, I’ve seen plenty of investment companies this size, today’s just going through the motions.’” Summit Holdings, last year’s assets under management: twenty-six billion. In his mouth, we were just going through the motions. “Amy.” “Yes.” “Notify him at 9:30 sharp. Not a minute earlier.”

“It’s 9:28, Miss Harris.” Amy gently reminded from outside the door. I closed the report I was halfway through reviewing. My phone lit up on the desk. Ella’s voice message. Fifteen seconds. “Ethan said he messaged you and you didn’t reply. Are you doing this on purpose? This meeting is really important for him today. If you won’t help, fine, but don’t drag him down.” A pause. Her tone switched frequencies. “I’m telling you, Jenna, if Ethan’s meeting falls through today, I’m telling Mom and Dad it’s because of you. You’re taking out your frustration about not getting married on us—when will you ever grow up?” Fifteen seconds to say all that without breathing. With outsiders she draws out every word coyly. With me every word stabs without gaps. Mom’s call came right after. “Jenna, are you fighting with Ella again?” “No.” “Then why won’t you help Ethan? It’s a ten-minute thing and you’re making excuses.” “Mom, I’m at work—” “What’s so important about that little company of yours? Ethan’s matter is serious business, can’t you tell what’s important?” “Mom—” “Don’t Mom me! I’m telling you, Jenna, if you won’t even help with this little thing, don’t come back to this house. You ran off after college graduation, you weren’t there when your dad had surgery, you didn’t come to your sister’s wedding. Six years. Have you done one thing for this family?” I leaned back in my chair. Outside the window the September sunlight was blindingly white. “You’ve been competitive since you were little, always comparing yourself to your sister. What for? You’ve worked yourself to death, what’s the point?” From far away on the other end—Ella’s voice: “Mom, stop, she has her reasons.” Mom sighed. “Fine, don’t help then. You never cared about this family anyway.” Beep— She hung up. I placed my phone on the desk. My fingertips felt nothing. Not pain, just gripped too tight. The day I rang the bell at the NYSE, I stood on the platform watching colorful confetti fall, hundreds of people applauding below. The lights were scorching. In that moment what I thought wasn’t about success. It was: if only Mom could see this. Later I sent that video to the family group chat. No one replied. Two hours later Ella sent: [Did you go traveling? Looks so fancy.] Then the group started discussing what color Ethan White’s new car was. “Miss Harris.” Amy’s voice came from the doorway. “It’s 9:30 sharp. Mr. White has been waiting in the meeting room for ten minutes. Should I bring him over now?” I opened my eyes. Sat up straight. Materials spread on the desk in front of me. Debt ratio, cash flow, product progress, thirty million in financing—every data point in my hands. “Bring him in.” Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Leather shoes hitting the floor with steady, confident rhythm. Amy’s voice arrived first: “Mr. White, this way please.” The door pushed open. Ethan White stood in the doorway. Sharp suit, business plan bound and held in his hands. A practiced smile on his lips, the standard expression for meeting unfamiliar investors. He looked up. His gaze swept across the office, across the floor-to-ceiling windows. Landed on my face. The smile disappeared. The document slipped an inch between his fingers. His lips moved, his voice like something was blocking it. “…Jenna? Jenna Harris?” I looked into his eyes. From this end of the desk to that end, less than two meters. Ten years ago when three people sat together, his gaze never lingered on me. “Mr. White, please sit.”

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How rich can a person be? My Alpha husband Hector is very rich. The Dubois pack he leads is the wealthiest of all packs. In our five years of marriage, every time he goes out to accompany his childhood sweetheart Layla, he transfers a property to my name. After I had 99 properties under my name, Hector suddenly discovered I had changed. I didn’t cry or make a fuss, didn’t beg him not to go out. I just took the initiative to choose the best villa in Dubois pack and waited for him to sign the property transfer agreement. The man signed, the pen tip leaving sharp marks on the paper. For the first time, he showed a hint of hesitation, his voice low: “When I get back, I’ll take you to see the fireworks.” I obediently put away the agreement and softly answered: “Okay.” I just didn’t tell him that what he signed this time was our divorce agreement. I also made an appointment with a witch for 30 days later to help me dissolve the mate bond between Hector and me. After 30 days, I’ll be able to leave completely.

In the office, news of Layla’s return to Dubois pack was playing on TV. The man’s gaze remained locked on the news footage, those deep eyes reflecting Layla’s image. Even when he took the property transfer agreement I handed him, his slender fingers gripped the pen and signed without hesitation. Villa No. 1 in the western suburbs—a property in Dubois pack that money couldn’t buy. It wasn’t important in Hector’s heart. Just like me in his heart—equally unimportant. When the news ended, the man was in a good mood. He casually tossed the pen on the desk with a crisp sound, pushed the agreement toward me while joking carelessly: “I’ve transferred over sixty houses to you, right? You’re a little rich woman now.” The barely suppressed joy in his tone wasn’t to congratulate me. It was only because his beloved Layla had returned to the pack. I stood in front of his desk, my slender fingers smoothing the corners of the agreement, and nodded. “The western suburbs villa has an ocean view. I really like it.” I didn’t tell him this was actually the 100th property he’d transferred to me. Hector and I are fated mates. Back then, we fell in love at first sight. As an Alpha, Hector didn’t care at all that I was just an ordinary wolf. His love for me was generously passionate. At a moonlight ball once, we danced one dance after another. Afterward, we lay together on the lawn looking at the stars. Hector held my shoulder and told me “I love you” a hundred times. I smiled with narrowed eyes and made him a promise: “If you make me sad in the future, I’ll leave you after the hundredth time.” Under the moonlight, Hector kissed my eyes: “I swear I’ll make you happy. I’ll never give myself the chance to hurt you.” Hector broke his word. His love for me didn’t last long—only until the day Layla first returned to the country. It was our first wedding anniversary. I waited in the candlelight dinner Hector had personally prepared, happily waiting for him to come home. But all I got was a property transfer agreement and a cold apology. “Sorry Nora, I missed our anniversary. Will you forgive me?” I ignored the strong, unfamiliar perfume scent on him and hoarsely forgave him for the first time. What followed was the second time, the third time, the fourth time… It was through so many betrayals that I learned Hector had loved his childhood sweetheart Layla since they were young. But when Hector wanted to confess to Layla, she met and fell in love with her own fated mate. Layla followed her mate to another pack. Hector was heartbroken. It was under these circumstances that he met me. After that, we fell in love, got married, and everything seemed happy. Then Layla’s mate died, so Layla came back. And Hector chose without hesitation to go find Layla. In five years of marriage, he abandoned me countless times to accompany his childhood sweetheart. Eventually, he even started proactively giving me a house before going to find Layla. From the first house to the ninety-ninth. Every time, I forgave him. And now, it was exactly the hundredth time. Hector, after this time, I won’t need to forgive you anymore. Thinking this, I smiled with relief and looked at him calmly. Hector froze, and his deep blue eyes actually showed a trace of reluctance. Then with some hesitation, he said to me: “When I get back, I’ll take you to see the fireworks.” In the past, whenever he showed even a hint of softness, it would become my fantasy of trying to win him back. I would cry and beg, then despair. Because Hector would always pry my fingers away one by one and coldly leave two words: “Crazy.” Fortunately, I’d already been crazy ninety-nine times. And now, the hundred times were complete. I didn’t need to continue this self-deception anymore. Because in the stack of contracts I’d just handed him, I’d secretly hidden a divorce agreement. I also found a witch who could help dissolve the mate bond. The witch said she needed to prepare and would perform the dissolution in 30 days. Hector. Thirty days from now, we’ll have nothing to do with each other anymore.

Countdown: twenty-five days. In these five days, the man’s usually clean social media feed was unusually lively. During the day, they fed pigeons in the plaza. At night, they watched parade floats from the hotel observation deck at the amusement park. I didn’t miss a single step they took together. As for what he promised me, he’d probably forgotten long ago. I stood up to pack my luggage and had just spread a mess on the floor when I suddenly received a call from Connor, Hector’s Beta warrior. “Luna Nora, remember to come to the fireworks show at Moon Pool at eight o’clock.” “If anything goes wrong, Alpha Hector definitely won’t let me off.” In the eight years I’d been married to Hector, only his Beta called me Luna Nora. Because he was the only one who knew about my marriage relationship with Hector, and the only one who knew I was the Luna of Dubois pack. Thinking about it now, maybe Hector proposed keeping our marriage secret because he was afraid Layla would hear the news and refuse to date him. I didn’t want to make things difficult for Connor, so I agreed. But when I actually set out for Moon Pool, I was in a daze for a moment. Five years ago, when Hector and I had just gotten married, he gave me a secret fireworks show. Connor had quietly told me about it then too. Five years later, heading to the same place, my mood was completely different. When I arrived near Moon Pool, countless tourists had already gathered there. There were even many media outlets. I was puzzled, afraid I’d gotten it wrong, so I called Hector. The other end of the line was endless busy tones. I called again. I didn’t know what I was expecting. But no matter how many times I called, no one answered, and I never saw any trace of Hector. Looking at the time, it was almost eight o’clock. Someone in the crowd was already shouting: “The fireworks show is about to start!” “This is the fireworks show Alpha Hector prepared for his wife. We’re lucky to catch it.” I froze. In public, Hector’s image had always been unmarried. The wife they spoke of couldn’t possibly be me. It could only be someone else. I knew the best viewing spot for the fireworks was on the northernmost side of Moon Pool. Since I was already here, I might as well go look. At least the fireworks were innocent. But there were too many people. I was pushed to the very front by the crowd. I finally saw Hector. He was in the best position, deeply embracing Layla. The fireworks were already blooming gloriously in the night sky, one after another. I listened to the explosions going off beside my ears. I also heard Hector’s deep confession to Layla against the background of boiling crowds mixed with fireworks. A reporter held a microphone to Layla’s face and asked her: “Miss, what is your answer?” Hector gently held Layla’s shoulder, looking at her with anticipation all over his face. Layla shyly took the microphone and had just opened her mouth when my eyes met Hector’s. Hector’s whole body stiffened, and he involuntarily said: “Nora…” At that moment, the entire Moon Pool fell silent. Even the sound of fireworks became insignificant. Everyone was focused on what he’d said and on me, whom he was looking at. Layla narrowed those charming peach-blossom eyes, looked me up and down, raised an eyebrow, and asked Hector: “Darling, who is this?” Hector’s jawline tightened. He obviously hadn’t expected to run into me on this occasion. He awkwardly licked his lips, pondering how to salvage the situation. I smiled and, under everyone’s probing gazes, answered: “My name is Nora. I’m Hector’s…” Hector tensed up, trying to stop me, but what I said was: “Distant cousin.” As soon as the words fell, my fingers clutching my palm also relaxed slightly. “My mom asked me to help him check if his future partner is handsome. Did I scare you all?” Hector’s expression finally relaxed, and he nodded at me with satisfaction. He never wanted me to reveal my identity in public, and his mother naturally felt the same way. So every time I went out with his mother, she had me call her directly by name. This name I’d been calling for five years was the best excuse prepared for just this moment. The fireworks show had to continue, and no one paid attention to me anymore. The weather didn’t cooperate—it suddenly started pouring rain. Thunder and lightning flashed in the sky. Hector hastily dispersed the crowd and carefully escorted Layla to the car. Leaving me standing there alone. The rain was bone-chilling, yet I felt numb. Probably because these five years of marriage had long since made me accustomed to it.

I went home and took a hot shower. When I came out, I ran into Hector in the living room. He hesitated for a moment, then actually thanked me: “But thank you for helping me out of that situation.” “We… after all, our marriage is secret. If I’d said it right there, it would’ve been bad for Layla’s image.” “Later… I’ll find a chance to make our relationship public.” I didn’t remind him that we wouldn’t need to make our relationship public anymore. This marriage was coming to an end. It might as well never have existed. Better for both him and me. He suddenly remembered to care about me: “But how did you end up there?” I smiled and stared at him for a long time without speaking. Not until his eyes became evasive did I say: “Connor told me to go.” Only then did he remember that today’s fireworks show was originally what he’d promised me. But he’d been too sweet with Layla and had completely forgotten about it. “Sorry. Next week… no, next week won’t work. I have to handle a Rogue attack at the pack border. Next month then. I’ll definitely take you.” I shook my head. “We’ll see when the time comes.” Hector was satisfied with my understanding and gently hugged me. Never before had I felt a man’s embrace so cold. After that day, Hector did go on a business trip. Except he took Layla with him on the business trip. Outside of work, they had candlelight dinners together and visited the werewolf museum. They went to eat at the specialty seafood night market he’d never been willing to take me to. He’d told me: “I’m an Alpha after all. Going to eat that kind of thing—how undignified.” But in front of Layla, Hector had no status. He was just an ordinary man deeply in love with her. Countdown: three days. Hector finally came back. In the half month he’d been away on business, I hadn’t contacted him even once. Looking at the spotless villa, as if he’d suddenly discovered what I’d contributed over five years of marriage, he said to me: “Nora, you’ve worked hard.” After five years, I couldn’t remember the last time he’d called me that. “I was planning to take you to see fireworks the day after tomorrow, but fireworks are currently banned…” I could hear that he just didn’t want to take me to see fireworks anymore. Layla had probably said something to him. “Then forget it.” Hector froze, as if he hadn’t expected me to actually just let it go like that. “You… don’t mind?” If it were in the past, I would’ve already gone crazy accusing him. Why could he never keep the promises he made to me? But now, I no longer cared about those false promises of his. “It’s just fireworks. It’s fine not to see them.” Just like Hector—actually, I could do without him too. After a long silence, Hector spoke again. “Then the day after tomorrow, I’ll go with you to see that villa in the western suburbs.” “The flowers nearby are beautiful. We can admire them there.” I looked at my phone. The calendar told me that the day after tomorrow was Layla’s birthday. I only remembered because last year Hector had spent the entire day with Layla on that date. I’d felt unwell and went to the hospital, called him countless times, but he didn’t answer a single one. On such an important day, would he come see me? He was just putting me off. “That day, don’t you need to accompany Layla?” Hector’s expression stiffened for a moment. He said: “I’ve been with her so long. I should spend time with you too.” After saying this, he seemed to feel the words sounded too absurd and guiltily lowered his head. But I didn’t expose his lie. I just went along with him and played along. As it happened, that day was when I’d scheduled the witch to dissolve the mate bond. Very meaningful indeed.

Countdown: one day. These past two days, Hector hadn’t appeared. He’d been with Layla the whole time, probably to appease her. But every night, he’d share some trivial things with me. Entertainment gossip, stray cats he saw on the roadside, funny posts on social media. We were like an ordinary couple separated by distance, casually chatting about boring daily matters. But in five years of marriage, Hector and I had never shared anything about our daily lives. I didn’t understand why he was suddenly doing this, and I didn’t want to understand. In these three days, I’d been busy moving, packing my things bit by bit and shipping them to Ashclaw pack. I’d also negotiated rental contracts with a real estate agency to rent out all one hundred properties under my name. These actions eventually alerted him. That night, he called and asked me: “Connor said you’re moving things?” I answered casually: “Yeah, didn’t you say we were going to the western suburbs? I like it there.” Hector paused, then said to me: “If we set off fireworks hiding in the western suburbs, it should be fine.” I shook my head with a joking tone: “No need. Be careful or you’ll get arrested.” The man relaxed a bit. “Then tomorrow night, just wait for me directly in the western suburbs.” I hummed in acknowledgment. A message popped up on my phone—flight ticket purchase successful. But Hector seemed to suddenly sense something and repeated: “You must wait for me.” I promised him: “Okay.” But the next night, he still didn’t come. Connor apologetically told me that Hector had a meeting and would be a bit late. But on social media, Layla was admiring flowers in the park in the western suburbs, and Hector was right there with her. I glanced at the time. My flight would take off in four hours. I probably wouldn’t have the chance to tell him this news in person. Countdown: three hours. I lay on the bed. The witch was beside me preparing the ritual needed to dissolve the mate bond. Soon, the ritual began. Something seemed to be pulled from my body. Covered in cold sweat, while feeling the pain, I thought of Hector’s promise to me yesterday and couldn’t help laughing. If he knew this was the last time I’d wait for him to fulfill his promise, would he immediately come back to see me? On the ceiling, the villa’s luxurious chandelier cast light down on me. I looked at this room—this was his compensation for hurting me the hundredth time. Leaving here had meaning too. Countdown ended. The witch completed her ritual as promised. The witch revealed a smile: “Congratulations, Nora. The mate bond has been dissolved.” I closed my eyes and felt the invisible shackle inside me finally shatter. That vague pull, the pain, the uncontrollable sense of belonging—all dissipated. At this point, my marriage was completely over. I picked up my suitcase, ready to leave. The highway to the airport was a bit congested. I sat in the car and happened to look over to see Hector hurriedly driving toward the western suburbs. I lowered my head, realizing this brief passing would be forever. But Hector suddenly stopped his car and looked in my direction…

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My husband Ethan Chase was sent undercover. No lavish wedding for me, no honeymoon either. When I had complications giving birth to our daughter, he was on a mission. Our daughter is seven now, and she’s only seen him in photos. “Vivian, I’m sorry. Being with me has made you suffer. Once this mission wraps up, I’ll come back and we’ll be together.” Every time we talked, I’d smile and say it was fine, that his safety mattered more. Until our daughter fell seriously ill, and I ran into him at the hospital with a pregnant woman for her prenatal checkup. “Mommy, look…” My daughter pointed at him excitedly. I immediately covered her mouth in panic. “Don’t call out! Your dad’s on a mission—it could put his life in danger!” My daughter looked at me with confusion written all over her face. “Mommy, what are you talking about?” “That’s my classmate’s dad. He picks her up from school every day.” “My classmate’s about to have a little brother. When are you going to give me a sister?” I forced myself to stay calm and dialed Ethan’s number. “Ethan, where are you? Our daughter’s sick.” Not far away, he glanced at his phone. He bent down to kiss the pregnant woman’s face, then frowned and walked to a corner to answer. He deliberately lowered his voice: “Vivian, I’m on a mission abroad. I have to hang up.” After ending the call, he stared at his phone, distracted. It took him a while before he took the prenatal test results and went to queue for registration. My eyes stung terribly. As if possessed, I carried my daughter and walked over. Charlotte Lane was sweet-looking, completely non-threatening. She was clearly someone who’d been well-protected all her life. When she learned my daughter was her son’s classmate, she brought me to a café next to the hospital. She ordered juice for the two children, then cheerfully pulled me into small talk. When she talked about Ethan, her eyes practically sparkled. “My husband and I have known each other for ten years. I was his first love. When we first got married, there was a misunderstanding, and in a fit of anger I ran off to Europe. He couldn’t find me and was depressed for quite a while. But seven years ago, he came to Europe to find me. We reconciled and had our first child.” Seven years ago. I turned my face away, afraid she’d see the tears welling in my eyes. That was when Ethan and I first met. I had just graduated high school when my family forced me to get married. After a huge fight with my parents, I ran away from home and met Ethan in an alley. He reeked of alcohol, lying on the ground vomiting blood. When he saw me, he stared for a long time before explaining he’d been injured on a mission. I believed him and took him to the hospital. Later we fell in love, and I followed him to this unfamiliar place. Until he went abroad on a mission, and I discovered I was pregnant. I endured the pregnancy and delivery all alone. Back then I didn’t know anything, not even how to properly recover postpartum. The landlord bullied me for being an outsider and threw me and my baby out in the middle of the night. I took a deep breath and forced a smile. “So… have you two always had a good relationship?” Charlotte took a sip of her milk tea and closed her eyes contentedly. “Very good. When I had our first, he was there for the entire delivery. He booked the best postpartum care center.” “Most people rest for a month after giving birth, but he insisted I take three full months.” “This time my morning sickness has been severe with the second baby, and he’s been so worried he’s lost a lot of weight too.” I gripped my straw so tightly I wanted to stab it into my flesh. Charlotte looked at me curiously. As if she’d discovered something exciting, she couldn’t contain herself. “No wonder we hit it off so well—haven’t you noticed we look a bit alike?” “Actually, I know that during the three years I was abroad, my husband found a substitute who resembled me.” “My husband said that woman was barely educated, completely on a different intellectual level from him.” “I’m pretty understanding about it. I just think of it as my husband finding a free prostitute.” The tip of the straw pierced under my nail, but I felt no pain. Charlotte didn’t notice my reaction and smiled at me smugly. “You have no idea how much my husband dotes on me. When he found out that woman was pregnant, I lost control and had someone run her over with a car. I heard she hemorrhaged badly.” “That woman reported it to the police, but my husband didn’t blame me at all. He took care of all the trouble for me.” “After I had our first baby, I had some postpartum depression. I had people harass that woman, calling her a homewrecker. Watching her carry her child around looking so helpless—it felt so satisfying.” “Oh, and my husband was even more ruthless. When the homewrecker was arguing with people, he and I just sat in a car across the street watching the show.” Late pregnancy, getting hit by a car, all alone with no one to turn to. I crawled to a nearby hospital by myself to beg for help. The day people called me a homewrecker, Ethan choked up on the phone for the first time, saying he was sorry. How ironic it seems now. My vision kept going black. I almost fainted from my seat. Charlotte finally noticed something was wrong and worriedly supported me. “Are you okay? We’ve been chatting so long—where’s your husband?” I opened my mouth, my throat tight. “He…” Just then, an indulgent yet helpless voice came from behind us. “Drinking milk tea behind my back again. Charlotte, you’re being naughty.”

The familiar voice exploded above my head. I mechanically turned around. The moment our eyes met, Ethan froze. I’d thought about going crazy, demanding to know why. But I had to consider my daughter’s feelings. “I’m sorry, I have to go.” I stood up, lowered my head, grabbed my daughter, and fled. That dark gaze followed me like a shadow, accompanied by Charlotte’s coquettish voice. “Come on, forgive me just this once.” “She’s our son’s classmate’s mom. Pretty pitiful—her daughter’s sick and her husband doesn’t even care.” When I got home, I locked myself in my room and cried for a long time. The doorbell rang in the evening. It was Ethan. “Mister, why are you here?” My daughter was curious. He frowned, seeming uncomfortable. I forced back my heartache and sent my daughter to her room to do homework. Once only the two of us remained in the living room, I finally had a chance to really look at him. He’d gotten thinner. He’d changed too. He didn’t drink the hawthorn tea I brought him, even though he used to love it. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I beat his chest with my fists, crying my heart out. “Why did you lie to me? You made our daughter into an illegitimate child!” “Do you have any idea how landlords kept kicking us out, how much contempt I endured with our daughter?” Back then I’d look for work during the day and sleep at the bank at night. On my first day of work, my finger got pierced by a machine. I didn’t cry. I just gently pulled my finger out and sat there in a daze. I kept telling myself to be strong, that everything would be fine when he came back. Now he was back, but as someone else’s husband. Ethan let me vent without saying a word. He just kept glancing at his phone. When I was too tired to hit him anymore, he helped me sit down, then quickly stepped back several paces. With a complicated expression, he pulled out a bank card. “Vivian, I’m sorry. From now on I’ll deposit child support in this card regularly.” “Just one condition—please don’t hurt Charlotte. She’s innocent.” I threw the bank card at his face like a madwoman. “She’s innocent—so I’m not? Our daughter’s not?” “I treated you as my husband. What did you treat me as? What did you treat our daughter as? Take your dirty money and get out!” His eyes turned red. Words came to his lips but he swallowed them back. After taking a phone call, he turned and left. He left in such a hurry that he trampled the flowers I’d planted in the yard. Those were flowers he and I had planted together seven years ago. “Come back! Explain yourself!” I wiped away my tears and chased after him. My daughter suddenly came out of her room, her face deathly pale, gasping for breath. Panicked, I picked up my daughter and screamed at his retreating back. “Ethan Chase! Our daughter’s having an asthma attack! Come back!” He acted like he hadn’t heard. Without any hesitation, he got in his car and left. I had no more tears left. No voice left to cry. I held my daughter and rushed to the roadside, flagging down a taxi to the hospital. “There are no beds available? Doctor, please, my daughter really can’t wait.” My daughter couldn’t breathe. She was starting to lose consciousness. Just like the past seven years, I numbly knelt and begged. But this time my daughter’s condition was extremely critical. The doctor told me expressionlessly to try another hospital. Just then, Charlotte appeared. “Vivian Adams?” She happened to be at this hospital waiting to give birth. After learning the situation, she immediately had Ethan help arrange for my daughter to be admitted. I felt a complicated mix of emotions. “Thank you…” “Don’t mention it. Your husband’s not around, so it’s only right we help you. Right, honey?” She kindly pulled me close and wiped the tears from my face. Ethan uncomfortably turned his head and pulled their son away. “Charlotte, I’ll take our son home first and bring back some toiletries for you.” The boy refused to leave. “Dad, I don’t want to go. I want to stay and wait for my classmate.” Ethan instinctively glanced in my direction and warned the boy in a low voice. “Don’t play with trashy people. They’ll be a bad influence on you!” He dragged the child away against his will. I trembled with rage. I wanted so badly to ask him why he said that about my daughter. They were both his children—why treat them so differently? But thinking of Charlotte’s kindness, I hesitated.

As soon as he left, Charlotte’s eyes suddenly reddened. “Vivian, he went to see that woman last night.” My heart skipped a beat. For some reason I felt guilty. She gave a bitter smile, her voice muffled. “Actually, after I got pregnant with the second baby, I was worried he couldn’t handle it, so I gave him permission to temporarily see that woman for relief.” “You know what he said?” Her nose turned red, looking pitiful. “He refused. He said women outside were dirty, that the time he didn’t use protection with that woman was because he was drunk.” “He wanted her to abort the child, but it was a life after all. I couldn’t bear it, so I told him to bring the child back to raise.” “He disagreed. He said he only recognized children I gave birth to. The homewrecker’s child had no right to appear before me.” I bit my lip hard until I tasted iron, forcing the tears back. So my daughter wasn’t someone he wanted. That’s why he could bear not coming back to see us even once in seven years. “Ouch, my stomach.” Charlotte suddenly clutched her belly and cried out in pain. I realized she was about to give birth and instinctively reached out to support her. Just as I was about to touch her, a strong force shoved me to the ground. Ethan had returned. He shielded her behind him. Then turned to face me, furious to the point of losing control. “Vivian Adams, did you ignore everything I said? If anything happens to Charlotte, I’ll kill you!” The back of my hand scraped against the concrete, the skin torn off. It burned with pain. I didn’t want to cry, but tears fell uncontrollably. “Is this what you think of me?” His gaze landed on my bleeding hand. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He seemed about to say something but stopped. Charlotte looked between us in confusion. “You two know each other?” He panicked. As if terrified I might say something to Charlotte. Before I could speak, he dragged me outside. “I’m worried about people with unclear backgrounds like her approaching you with ulterior motives.” I gave up resisting and laughed through my tears. “Right, someone from my social class doesn’t deserve to know you.” I must have been blind before. But then my daughter rushed out of the emergency room, crying and hitting him. “Bad man, let go of my mom!” “Let go!” Ethan winced in pain and instinctively pushed her away. Due to the momentum, my daughter screamed and tumbled down the stairwell. Ethan’s face changed. He quickly reached out to grab her but missed. “My child!” Everything happened too suddenly. I had no time to save her. Instead, Charlotte reacted in time and pulled my daughter back up. But the next second, her features contorted in pain. “Help! My water broke!” “What happened to you? All because you saved my daughter.” I panicked, feeling both grateful and guilty toward her. Despite her dazed consciousness from the pain, she still comforted me. “Vivian, don’t worry. We hit it off so well—saving your daughter was the right thing to do.” Ethan looked horrified and frantically carried her to the emergency room. The fetal position was abnormal. The situation was serious. This tough man actually knelt down. “Doctor, please save my wife. I’ll pay any amount.” The operating room doors closed. He remained kneeling in despair, praying. “Please God, let my wife deliver safely. I’ll trade my life if necessary.”

Passing medical staff couldn’t help but admire his devotion. My daughter and I felt like intruders, completely out of place. For a moment, everything felt so unreal. Was that Ethan who once only had eyes for me really just using me to pass the time? “Mommy, I feel awful!” My daughter’s painful cry woke me up. Her condition hadn’t stabilized. Her eyes rolled back and she started convulsing. Terrified and incoherent, I knelt before Ethan holding her. “The doctor said she needs surgery right away, but all of today’s surgeries are fully booked.” “Please save our daughter. I promise I’ll never appear in front of you again.” Charlotte had mentioned he was one of the hospital’s shareholders. He must have a way. My daughter was barely conscious in my arms, delirious with discomfort. “Mommy, Daddy, I feel awful…” Ethan softened. His hand moved toward her uncontrollably. Just then, the operating room doors opened. The doctor tiredly removed his mask and smiled: “Congratulations, mother and child are both safe.” He abruptly pulled his hand back and rushed over, pressing delicate kisses on her forehead. “Charlotte, you worked so hard. Two children are enough. We won’t have any more.” Charlotte weakly opened her eyes and couldn’t help complaining softly. “Isn’t it three? That woman gave you one too.” Ethan hesitated, then chuckled softly. “Only the ones you give birth to deserve my last name!” All color drained from my face. I could barely stand holding my daughter. He looked up at me, his expression gradually becoming complicated. After escorting Charlotte back to her room, he came after me. “Vivian, I’m sorry. I misunderstood you earlier.” He moved his gaze from my bleeding hand to my daughter. As if making a huge decision, he finally agreed to hold our daughter. “You’ve had it hard these years. I’ll arrange the surgery right now.” Tears blurred my vision. I couldn’t see his expression clearly, but I heard the tremor in his voice. Watching my daughter enter the operating room, I mechanically signed the consent form. When I looked up, I saw Ethan pushing Charlotte over. My nose stung. I couldn’t help wiping away tears. “Charlotte, why aren’t you resting? Why did you come here?” She completely dropped her previous gentleness, her smile dripping with mockery. “Vivian Adams, playing with you all this time has actually made me feel a bit sorry for you.” “My younger son was born with a severe blood disease. He needs a complete blood transfusion.” “Your daughter happens to be a match. All we needed was your signature on this surgery consent form!” She waved the form I’d just signed. I felt like I’d fallen into an ice cellar. I suddenly understood everything. I grabbed Ethan and screamed hysterically: “She’s your daughter too! How can you bear to do this?” He didn’t dare look me in the eye. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you later.” Charlotte leisurely enjoyed watching my agony. “Do you understand now? You were never his weakness!” I was consumed with hatred. I looked at them and laughed coldly with meaning. “Someone as uneducated as me—did you think I’d be easy to manipulate?” “Why don’t you go inside and see who exactly was sent into the operating room?”

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The night before my wedding, someone sent me a VIP resort hotel room key card. The room number was the same one where Xavier had proposed to me. I thought it was a romantic surprise he’d prepared for me before the wedding. But when I pushed open the door, I saw him naked, tangled with a woman on the bed. After Xavier finished, he casually pushed the woman out of his arms. He lit a cigarette and smiled carelessly through the smoke: “I didn’t want to keep hiding it from you anyway. I wanted you to find out early so I wouldn’t have to explain after the wedding.” He flicked the ash and added: “Don’t worry, you’re still my only wife. You’ve been with me for ten years—you won’t find anyone else to take you now!” “Tomorrow everything goes as planned. The wedding ceremony is yours, but the marriage certificate goes to her.” He thought I’d at least ask why, but I just quietly removed the engagement ring from my finger, set it down, and left. The next day, Xavier waited for me at the church in his groom’s suit. I didn’t run. I walked right up to him on the arm of his sworn enemy, waving the marriage certificate in my hand: “The wedding ceremony is yours, but the marriage certificate—I gave it to him.”

“She’s here, she’s here, the bride is finally coming out.” Quite a few reporters had already gathered outside the church. “Miss Olivia, how do you feel on your wedding day?” “Miss Olivia, what do you think about the wedding of the century that Mr. Xavier prepared for you?” I didn’t say anything and got into the car under the bodyguards’ escort. Xavier stood on the steps in his white groom’s suit, wearing a smile that said everything was under his control. This morning he called to say he’d had sex seven times last night, his body couldn’t take it, he needed to catch up on sleep, and couldn’t come pick up his bride. He was certain I would come. Xavier’s friend Matthew was the first to whistle: “She still came!” He nudged Xavier with his elbow, his face full of suggestive amusement: “Xavier’s got the magic touch—partying the night before the wedding, and the bride still shows up in her wedding dress. What do you call that? That’s what I call proper training!” Another friend chimed in: “No kidding, the way he went at it in bed yesterday, anyone else would’ve been wrecked, but Xavier can still stand here as the groom. Gotta respect that.” Several of them laughed, and Xavier’s lips curved slightly. His tone was casual: “Olivia’s been with me for ten years. Besides marrying me, who else would want her?” He glanced down at the engagement ring I’d taken off yesterday: “Throwing a little tantrum is normal. But in the end—” He paused, his voice confident: “She’ll still walk up to me and put her hand in mine.” Matthew gave him a thumbs up. The car door opened, and I stepped out in my white dress. Sunlight fell on the wedding gown, refracting into scattered sparkles. A flash of amazement crossed Xavier’s eyes, and he sincerely commented: “Olivia looks so beautiful in a wedding dress!” But before he could touch my hand, his vibrating phone pulled his attention away. He looked at the name on the screen. His lips unconsciously curved upward, and he stepped aside to answer it. “What’s wrong? Didn’t I tell you to call later?” A lazy, coquettish voice came from the other end: “Xavier, I’m flying abroad this afternoon. So I made an appointment to register our marriage in ten minutes. Can you come to City Hall? I want to get the marriage certificate before I leave.” “Ten minutes?” Xavier chuckled softly, “That urgent?” After hanging up, Matthew came over: “Who was that?” “Windsor.” Xavier put his phone in his pocket, his eyes brightening, “She’s flying abroad this afternoon and insists on getting the certificate before she leaves. She’s being so sweet I can’t say no.” Matthew raised an eyebrow: “What about the wedding here—” “What’s the rush?” Xavier didn’t seem concerned, “The wedding ceremony takes an hour or two. I’ll just go to City Hall first, it’s a ten-minute thing. You know Windsor’s personality—if I don’t humor her, she’ll actually cry at the airport.” Matthew wisely didn’t say more. Xavier walked toward me, put his arm around my shoulder, and had the nearby photographer raise his camera: “Come on, take a picture of me, for the memories.” Click. Done. He glanced at his watch, “Alright, that’s it for now. I have to go or I’ll miss the appointment.” He turned and strode toward another car. “Xavier!” I stood where I was and called out to him. He paused and looked back at me. His expression still carried that careless confidence of someone who had everything under control. “If you leave today,” I said word by word, “I’ll replace the groom at this wedding.”

He froze for a moment, then laughed with contempt and certainty: “Replace the groom? Where would you find one? You think life’s a TV drama?” “Everyone in Seattle knows you’re mine.” “Of course, if you really have the ability to find someone who dares marry you, I wouldn’t mind letting you—” He opened the car door and tossed back a casual quip: “Stop making a scene. Be good and wait for me to come back. Those other women, I know my limits, okay?” The groomsmen behind me exchanged glances. Matthew chased after him: “Xavier, you’re really leaving—” “You guys hold down the fort. It’s not like I’m not coming back.” Xavier closed the car door, his voice carrying a hint of impatience, “Windsor’s too hard to deal with. I don’t want to make trouble for myself.” The car started and drove off. I stood where I was, the hem of my wedding dress lifting in the wind. The photographer beside me held his camera, standing awkwardly. No one spoke. I looked down at my empty ring finger on my left hand and slowly curved my lips into a smile. Xavier, go ahead, go get your certificate. This multi-million dollar wedding of the century—I’ll gladly accept it. I lifted my dress and walked into the church. Guests were seated, the officiant was in position, and the wedding march was playing. Everything was perfect, except the groom wasn’t there. Matthew caught up to me with a forced smile: “Olivia, Xavier has an urgent matter. He’ll be back soon. Just sit for a bit.” Another groomsman, Edward, also came over: “Right, right, Xavier always knows what he’s doing. It’s your big day today, he’ll definitely be here soon.” “Exactly, Xavier never drops the ball on important things.” Several of them chimed in, making “the groom ran off” sound like he’d just gone to pick up a package. I glanced at the clock at the front of the church. 10:40 AM. “Okay, I’ll wait for him.” I calmly sent them away. Matthew visibly relaxed and quickly had people bring me tea and water. I’d wait. But who I was waiting for was none of their business. This wedding had been hyped for three months. Most of the groom’s important relatives were present. I looked around, my gaze falling on every detail. The white rose waterfall by the floor-to-ceiling windows, the crystal bead curtains hanging from the dome. Even the font on the guest place cards was specially designed by a designer he’d hired. Xavier was the type who, when he did something, did it to perfection. He was like that when he pursued me, and the same when planning the wedding. He’d made this wedding the talk of the town, the stuff of every woman’s dreams. Yet even his infidelity was equally extreme. No room for negotiation, no explanations. In his logic, treating someone well and hurting that same person never conflicted. And I only had one option: “accept it.” In the dressing room, my best friend Barbara, who’d flown from Australia to be my bridesmaid, held my dress train with an indignant expression. “Is Xavier sick in the head? Running off to get a marriage certificate with another woman on his wedding day? Did his brain get caught in a door?” She huffed and sat down beside me, tugging at her bridesmaid dress: “I thought he was just talking. But even if it’s true, did it have to be today?” Her voice carried a fire of indignation on my behalf: “When you two were planning this wedding together, he searched every flower shop in the city just to pick the perfect bouquet for you. When you tried on wedding dresses, his eyes got red faster than yours.” “I was so jealous of you I got sour and beat up my clueless boyfriend!” She paused, her voice dropping: “Who could’ve imagined he’d turn around and do something like this?”

I didn’t respond, just looked down at my phone. On Instagram, Windsor had just posted a new update. The photo showed men’s shirts and women’s lingerie scattered on the floor. [Someone said he’d only come for ten minutes, but ended up not wanting to leave~] She’d deliberately tagged the location—and it wasn’t City Hall. Mutual friends were already commenting: [Windsor, are you trying to piss someone off?] Windsor replied: [Whoever’s standing around in a wedding dress with no groom to wait for can get mad!] I expressionlessly took a screenshot. “Olivia, stop waiting!” Barbara snatched my phone away. “Look at this! What kind of person is this?” “You came back from graduating in England for him. Do you know how angry your parents were?” “Xavier was nothing back then, and you still dared to make a ten-year bet with your parents! Now you’ve lost everything.” “If it weren’t for you working day and night all these years helping him with proposals, bringing in investments, secretly using your identity as the shipping magnate’s daughter to get his projects off the ground, could he have achieved what he has today?” “And he turns around and gets cozy with the investor’s daughter!” “I really never saw it—he can fake it so well, faking it until the night before the wedding to let you discover he was sleeping with someone else!” “I can’t believe he came to an open room with someone else!” Barbara got more upset as she spoke, her eyes reddening: “Olivia, stop waiting. You should live for yourself for once!” “Barbara, thank you for coming today. As for Mom and Dad, after the wedding, I’ll go back and admit defeat.” Willing to bet means willing to lose. Today was the day I’d accept the price of losing that bet. After comforting my best friend and myself, I walked toward the balcony at the end of the hallway for some air. Just as I was about to push the door open, I heard several men’s voices inside. The groomsmen were hiding there smoking. “Wait, Xavier’s really not coming back?” “He said Windsor’s clinging to him, he can’t get away. He told us to stall.” Matthew exhaled smoke, “How long do you think Olivia’s temper can hold out?” “Look at her today—wedding dress on, red carpet walked, groom ran off, and she didn’t even furrow her brow.” “A wife like that, what more could a man want?” Edward sighed, “Xavier really doesn’t know how good he has it.” “Xavier’s got other things on his mind right now. That vixen Windsor has him wrapped around her finger.” Several of them laughed. Then someone made a video call: “Xavier, you finally picked up. Olivia’s still waiting. It’s not right for you not to come back, is it?” Ambiguous sounds came from the other end of the phone. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” Xavier’s voice carried impatience and the hoarseness of desire, “I can’t come back. Just take care of the relatives and friends.” “Okay, okay, Xavier, you do your thing.” Matthew said with a sleazy grin, “Olivia’s way easier to deal with anyway.” Before he finished speaking, I pushed open the balcony door. The smiles froze on their faces. Matthew hid the phone behind him, “Olivia.” I looked at them, “The wedding starts in three minutes.” “What are you doing hiding here?” “There are over three hundred guests sitting out there. Are you going to make them wait? Or let them watch this farce?” As soon as I finished speaking, several of them burst out laughing. “Olivia, stop making a scene.” Edward laughed while waving his hand, “Three minutes is enough? Xavier’s not that fast. He can’t make it…” “It’s enough.” I calmly interrupted, then turned and left. Only then did Matthew remember the video was still on. He glanced at the screen: “Xavier, Olivia says the wedding starts in three minutes. You better hurry.” Xavier’s low laugh came through the phone, carrying the laziness of unfinished pleasure: “Three minutes?” “Does this woman have some kind of misunderstanding about me?” A woman’s giggle came through the receiver, softly saying something. “Xavier.” Matthew asked quietly, “So…” The other end was silent for two seconds, then Xavier’s impatient voice came through: “Go ahead and help me hold down the scene. I’ll come over when I’m done here.” As he spoke, a woman’s coquettish sound came through in the background.

Matthew quickly hung up the video call. Several of them hastily stubbed out their cigarettes, straightened their suits, and walked out of the balcony. When they caught up to me, Edward said quietly: “Olivia, after all these years, we all know about you and Xavier. He does care about you in his heart. Men, you know…” I didn’t look at him or respond. Actually, until yesterday, I still didn’t want to believe he’d fall into the same trap of loving the new and abandoning the old. Windsor was an investor’s only daughter, fresh out of college. Ever since they met once at a celebration banquet, his eyes hadn’t been right. At the time I thought I was being paranoid. After ten years together, if I didn’t understand him, I wouldn’t have persisted this long. So I chose to believe through many ambiguous moments, many late nights with no WhatsApp replies. I didn’t believe that we, who’d finally made it through the hard times and were about to start a family, would lose to a girl fresh out of school. But he gradually grew eager to tear off his mask, becoming more and more outrageous. No longer hiding it, even deliberately letting me find out. Then packaging his betrayal as a favor: “Someone as outstanding as me, how could I have only one woman? But my heart is yours. No one but you can be Mrs. Xavier.” He expected me to be grateful. Barbara was right—he could fake it so well. Faking it until the day before the wedding to finally tear off that last layer of disguise. Using that cruelest method to make me see with my own eyes, hear with my own ears, what exactly he thought of me. Faking it until I had no way out. “Olivia, walk slowly down the aisle later, okay? We’ll be behind you to hold down the scene.” “Right, right, Xavier said once he’s done he’ll come over. You just go through the motions first.” They thought I was just going through the motions at the wedding. Thought I’d walk down the red carpet alone in my wedding dress, stand before the priest, waiting for a groom who might never show up. Then smile and say “I do” to an empty groom’s position. This was the script Xavier left for me. The groomsmen stood on either side of me, faces still wearing that “everything’s under control” smile. The church doors slowly opened, and someone stood in the backlight. Then everyone’s smiles froze. Xavier had a cigarette and buckled his belt. “You’re really leaving?” Windsor sat on the bed wrapped in sheets, her face full of displeasure, “You promised to stay with me all day. I only agreed to postpone getting the certificate because of that, and now you’re leaving?” “I have to go.” Xavier picked up his jacket, “She only gave me three minutes. If I don’t go now, with her temper—you know—” “What temper?” Windsor pouted, “Isn’t she the most understanding?” “Understanding is one thing, but today’s different.” Xavier checked himself in the mirror, straightening his shirt collar, “The wedding of the century—I promised her that.” “Then why did you come here?” “Didn’t you insist?” Xavier smiled, walked over and pinched her face, “Be good, wait for me to come back tonight.” Windsor swatted his hand away and turned around: “When will the certificate thing be postponed to?” “We’ll see.” Xavier answered perfunctorily, picking up his phone from the nightstand. The screen lit up. WhatsApp messages were exploding. All from the friend group, voice messages one after another. The last one was a video from Matthew. He frowned and randomly clicked it open, his eyes widening sharply.

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Halfway through sex, my wife Cindy suddenly pulled away and grabbed a condom, telling me to put it on. I was stunned. In our three years of marriage, we’d never used protection—we were trying for a baby. She kissed my forehead, her voice gentle. “You’ve been working overtime every day lately. You’re exhausted. If I got pregnant now, you wouldn’t have time to take care of me. Let’s wait a bit longer.” I was so moved my eyes turned red. After I finished showering and came out, I heard her on the balcony talking to her assistant on the phone. “Schedule the baby’s One-Month Celebration at the SKY Hotel. Security must be tight.” The assistant sounded worried. “What if your husband finds out…” “He won’t find out.” Cindy’s voice was cold. “Now that I have a son with Antoine, I don’t need him anymore. Pick out a few top-spec Richard Milles to give him. Consider it compensation.” Cold wind poured in from the balcony, freezing me to the bone. Actually, not having kids isn’t so bad after all.

Cindy hung up the phone and slid open the glass balcony door. Seeing me standing in the bedroom, panic flashed in her eyes. But quickly, she collected herself and leaned into my arms, resting her chin on my shoulder. “Why aren’t you waiting for me in bed? Was the water cold?” I lowered my eyes and calmly withdrew from her embrace. “I was just thirsty, came out for some water.” Cindy’s hand hung in the air, her fingers curling slightly. She poured me a glass of warm water and casually placed a gift box on the nightstand. Her fingertips brushed aside my damp bangs, tucking them to the side. “Terry, I’m sorry for what you’ve been going through lately.” “Price just got back from Europe, and I had her bring you a Richard Mille. You’ve been wanting one for ages, haven’t you?” I glanced down at the exquisite ribbon on the box but didn’t reach for it. “Thanks, but I don’t feel like looking at watches right now.” I rolled over into bed, turning my back to her. Cindy’s hand hung suspended in mid-air, her brow furrowing. But she didn’t press further, assuming I was just upset about her sudden insistence on using a condom. “I have an important business dinner tomorrow night, so I won’t be having dinner with you.” She tucked the covers around me and walked into the bathroom. The sound of running water filled the room. A month ago, she came home late from a business function. Her trench coat had a faint milky scent on it. I’d casually asked about it. She’d said matter-of-factly that a business partner had brought family, and she’d picked up the smell from their child. Now, looking back, it wasn’t a business partner’s child at all. It was clearly her own newborn son she’d been holding. At one in the morning, Cindy was sleeping soundly beside me. Listening to her even breathing, I opened my eyes in the darkness. In three years of marriage, I’d suffered so much to accommodate her and try for a baby. I drank so many body-conditioning medicines I threw up. Blood draws for tests left my arms covered in bruises and hard lumps. Every time she used work as an excuse to postpone our plans, it felt like she was slowly destroying my dignity. Her phone, charging on the nightstand, lit up. I turned my head. It was a WhatsApp message from an unsaved number. [Cindy, the baby was fussy tonight, crying for mommy. After you try the dishes for the One-Month Celebration tomorrow, can you come see us early?] I quietly watched the screen go dark. I opened my laptop and logged into my personal email account, which I hadn’t checked in ages. An email from Bulgari headquarters in Italy sat quietly in my inbox. Three months ago, they’d sent me an offer for the position of Global Chief Creative Director. I’d declined it then, wanting to focus on trying for a baby and taking care of the family. Now I opened the reply window, my fingers moving across the keyboard. [I accept the offer.]

The next morning, I drove to Cindy Group. The receptionist saw me and looked flustered, quickly bowing respectfully. “Good morning, Mr. Terry.” I nodded slightly and took the private elevator straight to the executive floor. As soon as I stepped out, I saw a man in a tailored designer suit exiting Cindy’s office. He was tall and slender, radiating smug satisfaction. Antoine was the personal assistant Cindy had hired six months ago. On his wrist was an extremely rare Patek Philippe full-diamond celestial watch. That was the unique piece Cindy had bought for twelve million at Christie’s spring auction last month. The media had widely reported it as a third anniversary gift from Ms. Cindy to her husband. I’d thought she would personally put it on my wrist at next week’s anniversary. I never expected it to already be on someone else’s arm. Antoine saw me and instinctively touched his watch, a challenge flashing in his eyes. “Mr. Terry, Ms. Cindy was just taking care of the child…” “I mean, she was just reviewing documents and got tired, so she took a nap. Should I announce you?” The smugness in his tone was practically overflowing. I ignored him and pushed open the office door directly. Cindy was sitting in her executive chair. Seeing me enter, she quickly shoved a jewelry box on her desk into a drawer. “Terry? Why aren’t you resting at home? What brings you to the office?” I sat on the sofa across from her, my tone calm. “I came to get my old design drafts.” Cindy paused, then looked relieved. “Why do you suddenly want to look at those?” “I want to find something to do, pass the time.” She didn’t suspect anything and walked to the safe to enter the password. “Next week is our anniversary. I’ve reserved a yacht and invited all your friends. Let’s celebrate properly.” I took the portfolio of drafts she handed me, watching her fake affection. “Sounds good.” I opened the door and walked out, but instead of leaving immediately, I deliberately softened my footsteps and stood outside the door. A few seconds later, Antoine pushed the door open and went in. His voice carried through. “Cindy, Mr. Terry was staring at my wrist just now. Did he recognize the watch?” Cindy’s cold voice came through the door crack. “So what if he recognized it?” “He has health issues and can’t have children. The Cindy family business needs an heir.” “You gave me a son. This ring is what you deserve.” “In a couple of years, I’ll find an excuse to divorce him and give you and the child proper status.” I closed my eyes, gripping the edge of the portfolio until it warped, took a deep breath, and walked toward the elevator without looking back. Back home, I started packing my clothes. Opening the study drawer to find my passport, I accidentally came across a birth certificate. The mother’s name was printed in black and white: Cindy. And the newborn’s date of birth was exactly one month ago. A bitter ache rose in my chest. I instinctively wanted to tear up the certificate. Just as I was about to apply force, I lost the will. I put everything back exactly where it was and packed my passport in my bag. That evening, Cindy came home and, for once, personally made soup. “Drink more. You haven’t been looking well lately. You need to build yourself up.” If it were before, I would have been moved enough to drink two large bowls. But today, I just stared coldly at the soup. Just as I was about to speak, her phone vibrated. Glancing at the screen, her expression changed, and she grabbed her phone and quickly walked to the balcony. “The baby has a fever? Don’t cry, I’ll contact a pediatric specialist right away.” The sliding door wasn’t completely closed, and her anxious voice came through clearly. I stood up and took the soup she’d personally made, pouring it all down the drain.

That night, Cindy came home very late, carrying the smell of hospital disinfectant. She lay down beside me and habitually reached to put her arm around my waist. When she touched me, nausea rose in my stomach. I jerked away toward the edge of the bed, avoiding her touch. Her hand froze, confusion all over her face. “Terry, what’s wrong?” I turned my back to her, my voice cold. “My stomach’s not feeling well. I want to sleep alone.” She was silent for a moment and didn’t push it. The next day, Cindy Group held a planning meeting for the annual jewelry show. As Chief Designer of Cindy Group and nominal Art Consultant for this show, I attended the meeting. Cindy sat at the head of the table, Antoine at her side behind her. The discussion turned to selecting the lead for the second half of the year’s main “Rebirth” collection. This was my passion project—two years of conceptual work. I’d drawn every sketch by hand. Cindy suddenly cleared her throat. “Regarding the Rebirth collection, I’ve decided to put Antoine in full charge.” “The final lead designer credit will also go to Antoine.” The conference room went silent enough to hear a pin drop. Everyone’s eyes turned to me in unison. I looked straight into Cindy’s eyes. “Why should my design go to an assistant who knows nothing?” Cindy’s expression darkened, tinged with displeasure. “Terry, your health isn’t good, and the show workload is too intense. I don’t want you overworking yourself.” “Antoine may be young, but he’s very talented. This project is perfect for him to gain experience.” Antoine stood up, his eyes reddening, looking pitiful. “Sir, if you mind, I can decline.” “I just want to help Ms. Cindy. I never meant to steal your work.” Several executives exchanged glances, their looks at me now tinged with reproach. I laughed bitterly. “Fine. If Ms. Cindy thinks he can do it, give it to him. I have no objections.” I stood up and walked out, pushing the door open. While washing my hands in the break room, Antoine followed me in. He leaned against the doorframe, watching me mockingly. “Terry, so what if you’re occupying Cindy’s husband position?” “A man who can’t even give her a child of your own is useless.” “With one word from me, everything you worked so hard on has to be handed over to me.” I pulled out a paper towel and methodically dried my hands. “Is that so?” “But even wearing a twelve-million-dollar watch can’t cover up the cheap smell of a homewrecker on you.” Antoine’s face twisted with rage. “Who are you calling a homewrecker?!” I raised an eyebrow, my tone disdainful. “What? Hit a nerve?” “Terry, have you made enough of a scene?” Cindy’s angry voice came from the doorway. She pulled Antoine behind her, looking at me with disappointment. “Antoine just took on the project and is under a lot of pressure. As his senior, instead of helping him, why are you insulting him here?” “Where did your manners go?” I watched her protect another man behind her back. The last trace of reluctance in my heart evaporated. “Think whatever you want.” I pushed past her and walked out. Cindy instinctively reached out, trying to hold me back. “Terry…” Before she could touch me. Antoine grabbed her sleeve, calling out weakly: “Cindy, I’m feeling dizzy.” Cindy’s movement stopped, leaving her in place. I scoffed and strode out of Cindy Group’s building without looking back.

That evening, Cindy came home. She pushed open the bedroom door to see me packing clothes into my suitcase. Her hand paused on her collar. “Where are you going?” “Abroad. To clear my head.” I didn’t stop what I was doing, stuffing my toiletry bag into the suitcase. She walked to the bed and pulled out a black card, her tone softening. “Milan or Paris? Buy whatever you like.” “Once the show details are finalized in a few days, I’ll come get you for our anniversary.” I zipped up the suitcase, stood up, and looked at her coldly. “Cindy, what if I leave this time and don’t come back?” Her brow furrowed, irritation flashing in her eyes. “Terry, are you really going to fight with me this long over design credits?” “I manage such a huge company every day and still have to deal with your moods. Can’t you be a little understanding?” I stared at her for several seconds, then suddenly smiled. “Fine. I’ll be understanding.” The day I left for the airport, South City was hit by a torrential rainstorm. Cindy offered to take me to the airport. I didn’t refuse. On the way, her phone vibrated. She answered, and Antoine’s anxious crying came through the receiver. “Cindy, the baby suddenly has a high fever. I’m so scared…” Cindy slammed on the brakes, jerked the steering wheel, and pulled directly into the emergency lane. She turned to me, her eyes urgent. “Terry, there’s an urgent matter at the company I need to handle immediately.” “There’s a subway station just ahead. Can you take a taxi to the airport yourself?” I looked at the pouring rain outside. I didn’t get angry or question her. I just calmly nodded. “Okay.” Cindy nodded lightly. “Let me know when you arrive.” I didn’t respond. I opened the door, grabbed my umbrella, and pulled my suitcase from the trunk. Cindy didn’t even wait for me to get my footing before hitting the gas. The car shot into the rain like an arrow. Muddy water splashed onto the hem of my coat. I pulled my suitcase and turned toward the subway station. More than ten hours later, the plane landed smoothly at Milan Airport. As I walked out of the VIP passage, several Bulgari executives were already waiting. The lead Executive President stepped forward and shook my hand warmly. “Mr. Terry, welcome to Milan. Your office and team are fully ready.”

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Claudia was dead. She left a suicide note saying I drove her to it. At the funeral hall entrance, Emmett shoved me down, demanding I kneel before her. The Simpson family wept and cursed me as a murderer. Claudia’s fans blocked the doorway, screaming for me to pay with my life. I stared at the casket that no one had opened from start to finish and asked only one question: “Where’s the death certificate?” Emmett’s eyes were bloodshot as he roared at me. “She’s dead and you still want to cause trouble?” I dialed the police. “Someone’s accusing me of driving a person to death. I’m requesting an autopsy.” The moment the call went through, the funeral hall fell silent. Emmett grabbed my wrist. “Iris, hang up.” I looked up at him. “Why?” His eyes were completely bloodshot, his voice hoarse. “Claudia’s already dead.” I lowered my gaze to his hand. “All the more reason to call the police.” I pressed the speaker button. The dispatcher’s voice came through the phone. “Hello, what’s your emergency?” Emmett’s expression changed. I looked into his eyes. “Someone used a suicide note to accuse me of murder. Now they’re demanding I confess at the funeral hall. I’m requesting the police verify the death procedures. If necessary, confirm the identity of the body in the casket.” Those words fell, and the funeral hall became completely silent. Emmett’s mother, Lydia, was the first to react. She clutched the casket, crying so hard she could barely stand. “Iris, how can you be so cruel?” “Claudia died so horribly, and you still won’t let her rest in peace?” Claudia’s agent, Mira, also looked at me with red eyes. “Miss Iris, Claudia tried to preserve your dignity even in death.” “She did so much charity work, saved so many people.” “She didn’t call the police, didn’t press charges. She only asked you in her suicide note to let her go.” “Why won’t you even give her this last bit of peace?” I looked at her. “Did you personally witness Claudia jump?” Mira froze. “Everyone saw it on the livestream!” “I asked if you personally witnessed it.” Her lips moved, but no words came out. I turned to look at Emmett. “Where’s the ambulance dispatch record?” Emmett didn’t answer. The tears on Mira’s face paused for a moment. I continued. “That casket—who verified it? The person inside—who confirmed it?” The funeral hall was so quiet, only the shouts of fans outside the door remained. I looked at them. “You have nothing.” “Just a suicide note full of my name.” “And a casket that no one has opened from beginning to end.” Mira’s face went pale for a moment. Emmett’s fingers clenched tight. I glanced down at my wrist, red from his grip. “What? The police aren’t even here yet and you’re already leaving evidence of injury on me?” He froze, then released his hand the next second. Lydia trembled with rage. “Iris! Are you threatening the Simpson family?” “Not threatening.” I said. “Reminding you to follow the law.” The fans’ shouts outside hadn’t stopped, crashing against the venue doors wave after wave. Emmett looked at me, his voice cold and heavy. “Iris, must you make a scene in front of the police?” “Claudia’s already dead. You want her examined all over again?” I smiled slightly. “Emmett, you’re the one who dragged me here.” “You threw the suicide note in my face. You were the ones who started calling me a murderer.” “Now I’m just asking the police to investigate. Why are you so anxious?” At this point, the Simpson Group’s legal counsel finally stepped forward. He pushed up his glasses, his tone still composed. “Miss Iris, of course the police can come.” “It’s just that Miss Claudia’s family has already entrusted the Simpson family to handle the funeral arrangements.” “Tonight she’ll be transferred to the funeral home according to procedure.” I looked at him. “Who are the family members? Where are Miss Claudia’s parents?” “Overseas.” I nodded. “Three hours after death, parents haven’t arrived, body hasn’t been confirmed.” “And the Simpson family can already transfer her to the funeral home?” The lawyer’s expression stiffened. “The family provided remote authorization.” “Where’s the authorization letter?” He didn’t answer immediately. I stepped forward. “Also, you said she’ll be transferred to the funeral home tonight according to procedure. What procedure? Where’s the body transfer form? Which facility is receiving her? Who signed?” The lawyer’s lips pressed tight. Mira immediately interrupted with tears. “Iris, enough! Claudia was most afraid of looking ugly. She fell from the twenty-seventh floor. She’s unrecognizable.” “Mr. Emmett wouldn’t let you see because he doesn’t want her talked about even in death.” I looked at her. “Did I say I wanted to see?” Mira froze. “I asked about the death certificate, body transfer documents, and family authorization.” “You keep bringing up dignity.” “Is it because you can’t produce these documents, or because there isn’t the person you claim inside that casket at all?” When those words fell, the funeral hall became deathly silent. Emmett’s head snapped up. “Iris.” His voice was frighteningly low. “Do you know what you’re saying?” “I do.” I looked at him. “Since you all claim Claudia is dead, then from now on, every single step needs to be backed by evidence.” I paused, my gaze returning to the casket. “Let’s prove one thing first.” “Whether the person in the casket is Claudia.”

The police arrived faster than the Simpson family expected. Twenty minutes later, the shouts outside the venue were contained behind police tape. When two officers entered, Lydia’s crying clearly paused. The Simpson Group’s legal counsel was first to greet them. “Officers, thank you for coming. This is really a family matter.” “Miss Claudia has already passed away. Miss Iris and Miss Claudia had some misunderstandings before her death. Miss Iris is quite emotional, which is why…” I cut him off. “This isn’t a family matter.” The lawyer’s expression stiffened. I looked at the officers. “Someone used a suicide note to accuse me of driving a person to death.” “Now they’re demanding I confess at this funeral hall.” “And they’re preparing to transfer the so-called body to a funeral home without a death certificate, emergency records, body transfer documents, or verified family authorization.” The officers’ expressions immediately turned serious. “Who called the police?” “I did.” I raised my phone. “Iris.” The officer glanced at me, then looked toward the casket in the center of the funeral hall. “Where’s the deceased?” The funeral hall fell silent for a moment. Mira instinctively looked at Emmett. Emmett said nothing. The lawyer answered quickly. “Miss Claudia’s body is in the casket.” The officer asked, “Where’s the death certificate?” The moment those four words came out, the Simpson family’s expressions all changed. The lawyer pulled out a folder. “Here’s the medical report regarding Miss Claudia’s condition after her fall.” The officer took it and flipped through two pages. “I need a medical death certificate, not a condition report.” The lawyer paused. “The circumstances were special. The procedures are still being completed.” I looked up. “Three hours since death.” “The funeral hall is set up, the suicide note made public, even the funeral home transfer arranged.” “But the death certificate is still being completed?” The lawyer’s lips pressed tight. Lydia finally couldn’t hold back. “Iris, must you be so aggressive in front of the police?” “I’m not being aggressive.” I looked at her. “Lydia, the Lewis Group owns three hospitals. I’ve seen death procedures. They’re not ‘completed’ this way.” Lydia’s face went pale with anger. Emmett said coldly, “Claudia jumped from the twenty-seventh floor of the Simpson Group hotel.” “Everyone saw it on the livestream.” I looked at him. “Saw her standing on the rooftop, or saw her hit the ground?” Emmett’s gaze darkened. Mira immediately cried out, “Miss Iris, why must you split hairs like this?” “Wasn’t Claudia’s final livestream clear enough?” “She cried saying you pressured her, cried saying she couldn’t take it anymore, then the camera went black.” “If it wasn’t suicide, what else could it be?” I looked at her. “After the camera went black, did you see what happened?” Mira’s lips trembled. “I…” “You didn’t see.” I finished for her. “The Simpson family didn’t see, the fans didn’t see, no one saw.” I looked at the officer. “That’s why I’m requesting verification.” The officer nodded and looked at the lawyer. “Where are the emergency records?” The lawyer glanced at Emmett. Emmett’s voice was low. “The situation was urgent. I had my private medical transport take her to a hospital partnered with the Simpson Group.” The officer frowned. “You didn’t dial 911?” Emmett paused. “The private medical transport was faster.” I laughed. “Fast indeed. So fast there’s no 911 record, no police at the scene, no scene secured.” “But the Simpson family’s obituary—that went out fastest of all.” Those words fell, and Emmett’s face completely darkened. The officer looked at him. “Mr. Emmett, a fall is classified as unnatural death.” “According to procedure, you need to report to police, preserve the scene, and verify emergency response and death circumstances.” “Why did you take the body away first?” Before Emmett could answer, Mira cried out, “Because Claudia was in such terrible condition!” “She was covered in blood, her face was…” She seemed unable to continue, covering her mouth as she cried. “Mr. Emmett just felt sorry for her.” “He didn’t want her to be gawked at.” I looked at Mira. “You saw her covered in blood?” Mira’s crying stopped. “After the livestream went black, you said no one saw.” “Now you’re saying she was covered in blood.” “Mira, did you see, or didn’t you?” The tears on her face froze. Emmett’s gaze finally landed on Mira. Mira reacted quickly, immediately choking out, “I heard it from staff.” “Which staff member?” I asked. “Name.” She opened her mouth but couldn’t answer. The officer also looked at Mira. “Please cooperate with a statement later.” Mira’s face went pale. Another officer contacted the emergency center. The call came back quickly. No 911 dispatch record for a fall from the twenty-seventh floor of the Simpson Group hotel. The air in the funeral hall seemed frozen. I looked at Emmett. “Why do you keep circumventing normal procedures?” Emmett’s jaw tightened. “Iris, are you suspecting me?” “I’m suspecting the evidence.” I said. “If you have it, produce it. If not, don’t stop me from investigating.” The lawyer’s forehead was already beaded with sweat. He tried to redirect the conversation. “Officers, Miss Claudia’s family truly has authorized the Simpson family to handle funeral arrangements.” “We have no intention of avoiding investigation.” “It’s just that the deceased had significant public influence during her life. The Simpson family made some preliminary arrangements out of concern for protecting the deceased’s privacy.” I looked toward the entrance. “Protecting privacy—by having fans and media arrive in advance?” The lawyer’s expression grew worse. The officer asked, “Where’s the authorization letter?” The lawyer was silent for a moment, then pulled out a sheet from the bottom of the folder. “Here.” The officer took it. It did have Claudia’s parents’ electronic signatures, and the authorization content was complete. Agreed to have the Simpson family handle Claudia’s funeral arrangements. Agreed to transfer to funeral home. Agreed not to publicly disclose the body’s condition. Even agreed to cremation as soon as possible. Every clause was complete. Also suspiciously urgent. The officer looked at the signing time. “11:47 PM.” I looked at the electronic clock on the wall. 12:26 AM. Claudia’s supposed time of death was 9:58 PM. I looked at the lawyer. “Less than two hours.” “Medical transport, death confirmation, notifying parents overseas, obtaining authorization, setting up the funeral hall, issuing an obituary.” “And bringing me here to confess.” “The Simpson family’s funeral efficiency is faster than emergency response.” The lawyer’s expression froze. The officer asked, “Can the authorizing parties be reached now?” The lawyer was silent for a moment. “Miss Claudia’s parents are overseas, overwhelmed with grief. It may not be convenient.” The officer’s voice remained steady. “Contact the authorizing parties for verification immediately.” The lawyer’s composure finally cracked. “Right now?” “Right now.” I looked at the phone in the lawyer’s hand. “On speaker.” Emmett finally spoke. “Iris, stop this.” I looked at him. “When the police verify the authorization, you say I should stop.” “Emmett, can your authorization letter not withstand questioning?” There was deeply suppressed fury in his eyes, but this time, he couldn’t answer. The lawyer made the call. First attempt—no answer. Second attempt—still no answer. Third attempt—the call finally connected. But what came through was a cold, automated English message. The officer frowned. “This number needs verification.” The lawyer’s hand holding the phone trembled. “It might… might be an international line issue.” The officer placed the authorization letter in an evidence bag. “This authorization requires further verification.” “Until verification is complete, the body must not be transferred or cremated without authorization.” “Additionally, we need to legally verify the identity of the body in the casket and seal all subsequent transfer procedures.” When those words came out, everyone in the funeral hall fell silent. I saw Emmett’s fingers curl slightly. Mira’s face instantly drained of all color. I turned my head and looked at the casket in the center of the funeral hall. “Did you hear?” “The police are inspecting the casket.” “Right now.” Emmett finally stared at me, his eyes cold as ice. “Iris, must you go this far?” I looked at him and calmly asked back, “Isn’t she dead?” “It’s just opening a casket.” “What are you afraid of?”

Emmett fell silent. He didn’t answer. The officer looked at him. “Mr. Emmett, please cooperate with inspecting the body in the casket.” Emmett’s throat bobbed. After a long moment, he finally spoke. “Fine.” Just those two words, spoken with weight. Lydia broke first. She threw herself at the casket, pressing down hard on the lid. “No! Claudia’s already suffered so much. You’re going to open her casket too?” Mira also knelt beside the casket, her shoulders shaking with sobs. “Officers, Claudia loved being beautiful more than anything.” “She fell from such a height. She’s unrecognizable.” “Please, don’t make her be stared at in the end.” The officer’s tone remained steady. “We’re not doing this publicly. We’re just verifying the condition of the body in the casket. Please step aside.” Lydia still tried to block them. Emmett said quietly, “Mom.” Lydia whipped her head toward him. “Emmett!” Emmett closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he looked at me. That gaze held hatred, and a trace of panic he couldn’t suppress. “Open it.” That one word fell, and Lydia’s crying stopped. Mira’s face went deathly pale. Venue staff stepped forward. The casket lid was slowly pushed open. Everyone in the funeral hall held their breath. I didn’t crowd forward. My gaze fell on the outer side of the body bag inside the casket. What hit first was a pungent smell of disinfectant. Inside the casket lay a black body bag. A white label was stuck to the outside of the bag. It read: Claudia. Gender: Female. Age: 26. Transfer Unit: Simpson Group Partner Medical Center. No hospital wristband, no police seal, no funeral home identification number. Only the Simpson family’s own label. The officer frowned. “Who put this on?” The lawyer responded immediately. “The medical center.” The officer asked, “Where’s the transfer document?” The lawyer paused. I looked at that label and smiled slightly. Mira’s head snapped up. “What are you smiling at?” “Nothing.” I said. “First time learning that identity confirmation after death relies on stickers.” Mira’s expression stiffened. The officer put on gloves and lifted the outer layer of the body bag to inspect it. Venue staff tried to step forward to block him but were stopped by another officer. Lydia turned her head away, unable to watch. Mira lowered her head, but her fingers clutched her clothes desperately. Only Emmett was still watching the casket. His face showed no grief, only tension. A few seconds later, the officer looked up. “The body is severely damaged.” “Visual identification at the scene is not possible.” “Subsequent sampling and verification will need to follow procedure.” Lydia seemed to finally grab an opportunity, crying out, “It’s already like this. What more verification do you need?” The officer looked at her. “Identity verification.” Lydia’s crying caught. Mira’s face also went pale for a moment. I looked at their reactions and said softly, “What’s wrong?” “It’s just identity confirmation. Are you afraid of that too?” Emmett finally spoke. “Iris, that’s enough.” I looked at him. “Emmett, when proving I drove Claudia to death, one suicide note was enough.” “Now asking you to prove the person in the casket is Claudia—why is it so difficult?” He stared at me hard. “I just want to let her leave quietly.” I looked up. “Leave? A dead person—what does she need to leave?” Emmett’s eyes darkened. “Leave behind these humiliating questions.” The officer continued inspecting the outside of the body bag. Soon, he pulled out a folded piece of paper from the side. The lawyer visibly relaxed when he saw it. “That’s the transfer document. It should explain the procedure.” The officer unfolded it. The paper was very new, so new the creases were still stiff. It read: Simpson Group Partner Medical Center Temporary Body Transfer Statement. Receiving party: blank. Transfer person signature: blank. Time: blank. Only a red stamp. The officer looked up at the lawyer. “This is a blank form.” The lawyer’s shoulders, which had just relaxed, immediately stiffened again. “Perhaps the staff were too rushed and forgot to complete it.” I looked at that blank form. “Every step is missing. Every step is waiting to be completed after the fact.” I looked up at Emmett. “Seems like you’re not handling a funeral. You’re racing through procedures.” Emmett said nothing. Lydia said tremulously, “Officers, can’t you just let Claudia go to the funeral home first?” “She’s already so pitiful…” The officer interrupted her. “The body can be transferred.” “But it must be supervised by police, and transfer procedures must be completed.” “At the same time, records from the venue, hotel, and medical transport will be sealed.” “The Simpson family may not handle this privately.” Lydia’s face went completely pale. Emmett looked at the officer. “The hotel records need to be sealed too?” The officer said, “The incident location was at the Simpson Group hotel. Of course it needs to be sealed.” Emmett asked too quickly. I looked at him. “Why are you so afraid of procedures?” Emmett looked at me coldly. “Stop trying to smear me.” I didn’t respond to him, because the lawyer’s phone rang again. Since the casket opened, it had rung three times. He glanced down and immediately declined the call. The officer looked at him. “Answer it.” The lawyer froze. “It’s just a work call.” The officer looked at him. “Answer it. On speaker.” Sweat appeared on the lawyer’s forehead again. He had no choice but to answer. The moment speaker turned on, a man’s lowered voice came through. “Mr. Howard, we’ve been waiting at the back entrance for twenty minutes.” “You said earlier it had to leave tonight. Now there’s police tape. Are we still going with the original plan?” The funeral hall went deathly silent. The lawyer’s face went sheet white. The officer’s voice deepened. “What original plan?” The person on the phone was clearly stunned. “Didn’t you say the paperwork would be completed later?” The lawyer abruptly hung up, but it was too late. The officer looked at him. “Who told you to arrange vehicles at the back entrance?” The lawyer’s lips moved, but no words came out. I looked at Emmett. “Paperwork completed later—seems like it’s not just the transfer form, is it?” His expression was frighteningly dark. He didn’t answer me. Mira instinctively glanced at the casket, then quickly looked away. I noticed, and said slowly, “Don’t worry. Once police seal it, no one can touch that casket.” Her face went even paler. “Iris, don’t make baseless accusations.” “Then don’t be afraid.” I looked at her. “As long as the person in the casket really is Claudia, no one can wrong her, and no one can wrong you.” Mira’s shoulders visibly trembled. The officer had already called for backup to seal the venue’s back entrance and related vehicles. The Simpson Group lawyer still wanted to explain. But as soon as he opened his mouth, a staff member rushed in—someone from the venue’s concierge. When he saw the police, his expression immediately changed. “Mr. Emmett.” Emmett shot him a cold glance. “Get out.” The concierge stood frozen, unable to advance or retreat. The officer looked at him. “What is it?” The man swallowed. “It’s… it’s Miss Claudia’s luggage that was stored at the venue last night.” Mira’s head snapped up. Emmett’s expression also changed in that moment. I looked at the concierge. “What about the luggage?” His voice grew quieter and quieter. “It was originally arranged to be sent to the airport tonight.” “But the driver’s been stopped in the underground parking by the police tape. He’s asking if he should still deliver it.” The funeral hall fell so quiet it was as if the air had been sucked out. I slowly turned my head and looked at Emmett. “The airport?” “Didn’t you say Claudia was dead?” “Why is her luggage being sent to the airport?”

After the concierge spoke, his legs nearly gave out. No one spoke. Everyone in the funeral hall looked at Emmett. Emmett’s expression had gone ice cold. “Who told you to come in?” The concierge trembled. “I… I couldn’t reach Enrique.” “It’s sealed outside. The driver’s stuck in the underground garage.” “He said according to regulations, the organizer must confirm, so I came.” The officer immediately asked, “What driver?” The concierge swallowed. “Airport shuttle driver. He was originally supposed to deliver Miss Claudia’s luggage to the airport.” “Who arranged it?” The concierge instinctively looked at Emmett. “Enrique.” Enrique, Emmett’s most trusted assistant. I looked at Emmett. “Three hours after Claudia’s death.” “Her casket is here.” “But her luggage is going to the airport.” I paused. “Emmett, how did Claudia’s funeral arrangements also include airport drop-off?” Emmett stared at me, his eyes frighteningly cold. “Iris, stop with the sarcasm.” “Then you explain.” He didn’t answer immediately. Lydia said urgently, “Maybe it was arranged by Claudia before her death. The staff didn’t have time to cancel it.” “Fine.” I nodded. “Then let’s check the records.” The officer had the concierge pull up the storage records. A tablet was handed to the officer. I also saw the information on it. Storage Name: Claudia. Storage Time: Last night, 8:37 PM. Items: Two suitcases, one handbag. Notes: Tonight at 11:50 PM, deliver to Chicago International Airport VIP access. Contact: Enrique. The funeral hall fell silent. Last night at 8:37 PM. Claudia’s supposed time of death was tonight at 9:58 PM. In other words, the day before she “jumped,” she had already stored her luggage at the venue and arranged in advance for it to be delivered to the airport. I smiled slowly. “Stored a day in advance, delivered to the airport the night of her death.” “Emmett, did Claudia have a premonition she would die, or did she book herself to leave?” Emmett said nothing. His silence made the funeral hall colder. The officer asked the concierge, “Where is Enrique now?” The concierge shook his head. “I don’t know.” “I’ve always followed his phone instructions.” “Just now after the driver was stopped, I called again and couldn’t get through.” I said calmly, “Looks like your assistant has gone missing.” Emmett stared at me, his voice very low. “I’ll have someone find him.” “Don’t trouble yourself.” The officer said. “We’ll find him.” Emmett’s expression completely darkened. Just then, the Simpson Group lawyer seemed to finally find an explanation. “Officers, this might just be Miss Claudia’s travel arrangements from before her death.” “After the sudden incident, the staff didn’t have time to cancel, which caused this misunderstanding.” I looked at him. “Misunderstanding? Then let Enrique come explain.” The lawyer’s lips pressed tight. Mira spoke quietly, “Claudia was planning to leave anyway.” Everyone looked at her. Mira clutched her skirt, her eyes red-rimmed. “She’d been in bad shape lately.” “She said she wanted to leave Chicago and recuperate in Miami for a while.” “The luggage and car—I asked Enrique to arrange them.” “Mr. Emmett doesn’t know the details.” Emmett’s head whipped toward her. Mira’s words immediately stopped. I laughed softly. “Mira, just now you said you didn’t know where she was going.” “Now you even know about Miami recuperation?” Mira’s breathing faltered. She quickly bit her lip. “I’m her agent. Of course I know some arrangements.” “Really?” I looked at her. “Then when did she give you the suicide note?” Mira froze. “Yesterday.” “What time yesterday?” She couldn’t answer. I looked at her, enunciating each word. “She was going to Miami tonight—you knew that.” “But when asked about the suicide note’s origin, you can’t remember.” Mira’s face went paler and paler. The officer also looked at her. “Miss Mira, you’ll need to cooperate with explaining the suicide note’s origin.” Mira’s lips moved, but she didn’t dare speak further. Emmett said coldly, “Iris, don’t interrogate her here.” I turned to look at him. “Then I’ll interrogate you.” The air in the funeral hall instantly tensed. The officer looked at Emmett. “Enrique is your assistant?” Emmett was silent for a second. “Yes.” “Were you aware of these arrangements?” Emmett’s gaze landed on my face. His voice was very low.”Claudia already had plans for overseas treatment.” “I just had Enrique preserve her original itinerary.” “Preserve?” I asked. “Preserve it until three hours after her death, and still have the driver continue delivery?” “Emmett, are you preserving an itinerary, or an escape route?” Emmett’s jawline tightened. The officer spoke quietly to his colleague. Soon, they contacted the airport. A few minutes later, the feedback came back. The lead officer looked at Emmett. “The airport confirmed there is indeed a VIP access reservation for 11:50 PM tonight.” “The reservation notes also include one accompanying female.” “The registered luggage information matches Miss Claudia’s stored luggage exactly.” Emmett’s expression darkened. Lydia’s head snapped up. Mira swayed on her feet. I wasn’t surprised at all. I only asked, “What’s the destination?” The officer glanced at me. “Miami.” My chest tightened slightly. The Simpson Group’s charity fund had a treatment project there, one of the accounts Emmett had always refused to let me touch. I looked up at Emmett. “Claudia was going to Miami tonight.” “Enrique made the reservation.” “The destination is Miami.” “Emmett, you still claim this is just preserving an itinerary?” Emmett’s gaze bore down. “There’s a treatment center in Miami. She just wanted to go for treatment.” “Treatment?” “The person is already dead, but the treatment itinerary is still active.” “The body is supposed to go to the funeral home, but the VIP access wasn’t canceled.” “Emmett, where exactly did you want her to go?” Lydia couldn’t sit still anymore. She lowered her voice to Emmett. “Emmett, don’t let them drag this to Miami.” “If things blow up there, where will the Simpson family’s reputation go?” I looked at her. “Lydia, Claudia is dead, and you’re not worried about finding the killer. You’re worried about protecting Miami first?” Lydia turned her face away. Mira also lowered her head at that moment. Just then, the officer’s phone rang again. He answered, and a few seconds later, he looked at Emmett. “Airport feedback again. Enrique has already used the VIP access reservation.” “There’s a woman with him wearing a hat and mask. Her build resembles Claudia’s.” “Airport police have temporarily detained them and are verifying identification.” The funeral hall went deathly silent. I looked at the casket, then at Emmett. “Emmett. There’s one Claudia lying in that casket. The airport detained someone who looks like Claudia. Who exactly died tonight?”

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On our sixth anniversary, I put on my sexy lingerie, prepared seven whole boxes of condoms, and planned to give Marcus a surprise. But even by dawn, he never came home. Until someone anonymously sent me a photo and a text message. In the photo, Marcus had his arms around a disheveled woman. He was cupping her face, kissing her passionately. The text had only one line: “His first love is back. Time for you, the substitute, to fuck off.” Six years. A whole six years. I thought he’d settled down for me, but in the end, I was just a similar face, a counterfeit he could summon at will. I didn’t cry or make a scene. I took off that ridiculous lingerie and dialed my family’s number. “I agree to the arranged marriage.” Gianna POV I sat in the reserved French restaurant, watching the ice cream cake on the table gradually melt. The clock on the wall had already pointed to eleven at night. Today was the sixth anniversary of Marcus and me being together. For today, I’d reserved his favorite restaurant half a month in advance, and even prepared a men’s engagement ring in my purse. I wanted to propose to him. But Marcus stood me up. His phone was unreachable, messages went unanswered. It wasn’t until my best friend sent me a screenshot from social media that my heart completely sank to the bottom. In the photo, at New York’s largest private club in a VIP room, Marcus sat on a sofa with a red-eyed, pitiful-looking woman leaning against him. Marcus’s head was lowered, his usually rebellious features now filled with tenderness as he carefully wiped her tears with a tissue. The caption read: “After all this time, Mr. Barrett’s dream girl has finally returned from abroad.” Dream girl. I stared at those words, feeling cold all over. I’d known Marcus for six years. Everyone said this good girl had tamed Marcus’s wild heart, and I’d believed it myself. Until I saw that woman’s face in the photo, and suddenly understood. That woman had a beauty mark at the corner of her eye, and when she smiled, her features were seventy percent similar to mine. So I was never anyone special, just a substitute for consolation. I don’t know how I walked out of the restaurant. When I came to my senses, I was already standing outside the club’s private room door. The door wasn’t fully closed, and jeering voices drifted out from inside. “Mr. Barrett, now that Clara’s back, what are you planning to do with that substitute at home?” “What else? Give her some money and send her packing. If she didn’t look like Clara, would Mr. Barrett have kept her around for six years?” “True. A fake is still a fake. Now that the real deal’s back, she naturally has to make room.” I froze in place, the blood in my body seeming to flow backward in that moment. I pushed open the door. The laughter in the room came to an abrupt halt. Everyone’s eyes fell on me, filled with undisguised mockery and contemptuous amusement. Marcus looked up. The moment he saw me, his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. He didn’t let go of the arm around Clara Hayes, only speaking in a cold tone: “Why are you here?” No explanation, no guilt, just displeasure at being interrupted. I looked at him, my voice hoarse: “Today is our sixth anniversary.” Marcus seemed to remember only then, a flash of impatience crossing his eyes: “I had something come up today. We’ll make up the anniversary tomorrow.” “What could be more important than our anniversary?” I stared hard at the woman in his arms. Clara seemed startled and shrank further into Marcus’s embrace, her voice delicate: “Marcus, this must be Miss Hayes, right? I’m sorry, it’s all my fault. I just came back and was feeling down, so I asked you to keep me company. You should go back with her. Don’t fight because of me.” This retreat-as-advance tactic instantly ignited Marcus’s protective instincts. His face turned cold as he shielded Clara behind him, looking at me like I was an unreasonable stranger. “Gianna, Clara just returned and her emotions are unstable. Don’t make a scene here. We’ll talk about whatever it is when we get home.” Making a scene. Six years of our relationship couldn’t compare to a single tear from Clara Hayes. I looked at this man I’d loved for six years and suddenly felt he was completely unfamiliar. I didn’t become hysterical, didn’t cry. I simply calmly took out the engagement ring I’d prepared from my purse and, in front of everyone, threw it into the nearby trash can. “No need to make it up.” With that, I turned and walked out into the pouring rain.

Gianna POV I walked in the rain all night. By the time I returned to the apartment, I’d developed a low fever. I didn’t take medicine, just curled up on the sofa, looking at the traces of our shared life throughout the room, feeling nothing but irony. Marcus didn’t come back until noon the next day, reeking of alcohol. Seeing my pale face on the sofa, his frown deepened. “Had enough of your tantrum last night?” He loosened his tie, his tone condescending and patronizing. “Clara just got back. She has no friends here. It’s only right that I look after her more. You’re my girlfriend. Be more understanding. Don’t always act like a resentful wife.” I looked up at his self-righteous face, feeling only absurdity. “Understanding? Marcus, what exactly am I to you?” “What more do you want?” Marcus impatiently interrupted me. “I already said you’re my girlfriend. What are you still complaining about? Oh right, that ‘Starfall’ comic copyright you have—the company’s decided to give it to Clara as the lead artist.” I stood up abruptly, looking at him in disbelief. “Starfall” was a comic I’d spent three years of my life creating. It was about to be adapted for film and television, with Marcus’s company handling the development. “That’s my life’s work! Why should she get it?” “Clara studied art abroad. She needs a presentable project to establish herself in the industry.” Marcus spoke as if it were completely reasonable. “You don’t need this one copyright anyway. I’ll compensate you with a few more later. Clara has depression. She can’t handle setbacks. Just think of it as helping her out this once.” “I help her? Who’s going to help me?” I trembled with anger. “Marcus, to please your first love, you’re going to take my life’s work and give it to her?” “Gianna!” Marcus shouted sharply. “When did you become so selfish and malicious? Clara is so sick. What’s wrong with you giving in to her? I’ve already decided. Legal will send you the transfer contract this afternoon. Just sign it.” With that, he slammed the door and left. I collapsed onto the sofa, tears finally falling uncontrollably. Six years of devotion had earned me the label “selfish and malicious.” That afternoon, legal indeed sent the contract. I didn’t sign. I called Marcus directly, but he hung up. When I called again, Clara answered. “Miss Hayes, Marcus is in the shower.” Clara’s voice couldn’t hide her smugness. “You received the ‘Starfall’ contract, right? Thank you so much. Marcus said this is his welcome home gift for me. Don’t worry, I’ll draw it well.” My knuckles turned white gripping the phone. Without saying a word, I hung up. I opened my computer and looked at the thousands of “Starfall” sketches in my folder, my heart aching. Just then, my phone rang. It was Xavier calling. “Gianna, Mom and Dad found you a match for an arranged marriage. Second son of the Italian Sinclair family. His character and background are impeccable. That unreliable boyfriend of yours has been with you six years and won’t even meet the family. Break up already and come home to get married.” In the past, hearing such words, I would refuse without hesitation, even having huge fights with my family over Marcus. But this time, looking at the glaring transfer contract on my screen, I fell silent for a long time. “Xavier,” my voice was hoarse, “let me think about it some more.” I still needed a little more time to completely kill that ridiculous hope in my heart.

Gianna POV For the next few days, Marcus never returned to the apartment. But I was forced to watch his and Clara’s “sweet daily life” on various social media platforms. Clara joined Marcus’s company and became the art director of “Starfall.” She posted: “Thank you Marcus for having my back. A new beginning, please support me.” The accompanying photo was Marcus’s back as he draped a coat over her shoulders. I looked on coldly, neither liking nor questioning. Over the weekend, Marcus unexpectedly came home and tossed me a haute couture dress. “There’s a charity gala tonight. You’re coming with me.” His tone was stiff, still seemingly angry about what happened days ago. I wanted to refuse, but when I saw the dress, I paused. It was a style I’d casually mentioned liking half a month ago after seeing it in a magazine. That dying ember in my heart seemed to flicker back to life. I thought Marcus still cared about me, at least a little. That evening, I wore the dress and appeared at the gala on Marcus’s arm. However, the moment we walked into the hall, the surrounding gazes instantly turned strange. Following everyone’s line of sight, my blood froze. Not far away, Clara Hayes wore the exact same haute couture dress as me and was chatting with others with a charming smile. Wearing the same outfit wasn’t scary. What was scary was that around Clara’s neck was the diamond necklace Marcus had won at auction last month for an astronomical price—”Eternal Heart.” At the time, Marcus said it was a gift for his future wife. Now, this necklace was around Clara’s neck. The whispers around us entered my ears without any attempt at discretion. “Isn’t this the real deal and the substitute wearing the same outfit? How awkward.” “So what if they’re dressed the same? Look at the necklace around Clara’s neck. Marcus spent a hundred million on that at auction. Gianna doesn’t have a single decent piece of jewelry besides that dress.” “A fake is still a fake. Even dressed in royal robes, she won’t look like a prince.” My face turned deathly pale. I instinctively looked at Marcus beside me. Marcus’s expression was also ugly, but he didn’t comfort me. Instead, he directly shook off my hand and strode toward Clara. “Why are you wearing this dress?” Marcus frowned at Clara. Clara’s eyes reddened, biting her lip pitifully: “Marcus, I’m sorry. I didn’t know Miss Hayes was wearing this too. You had someone deliver it to my apartment yesterday. I thought you specially picked it for me…” Marcus froze, then turned to look at his assistant who had followed. The assistant explained, sweating profusely: “Mr. Barrett, you said yesterday to order two of the latest style, one sent to the apartment and one for Miss Hayes. Maybe… maybe the brand mixed them up and sent two identical ones.” The truth was out. It wasn’t that Marcus remembered my preferences. He was buying clothes for Clara and just happened to get me one too. I stood there like a complete joke. Clara timidly looked at me: “Miss Hayes, since we’re wearing the same thing, how about I go change? So you won’t feel uncomfortable.” Marcus grabbed Clara, looking coldly at me: “Change what? You’re not in good health. Why tire yourself out? Gianna, go wait in the lounge. I’ll call you when the gala ends.” He actually wanted to hide me, his actual girlfriend, to avoid making Clara uncomfortable! I looked at Marcus’s cold face, and the last spark at the bottom of my heart was completely extinguished. “No need.” My voice was so calm even I found it incredible. “You two have fun.” I turned and left the banquet hall without any reluctance.

Gianna POV The humiliation at the gala was just the beginning. The next day, my social media accounts were attacked. Clara posted several core concept drawings of “Starfall” online with the caption: “Stayed up several nights for this. Hope you all like it.” Below were water army accounts Marcus had bought and Clara’s fans flooding the comments with praise. But soon, sharp-eyed netizens noticed that these concept drawings had a style extremely similar to my previous work. Clara immediately posted an ambiguous update: “Some art styles are ingrained in your bones, after all I studied abroad for so many years. As for certain people who keep imitating me, I hope you can find your own style.” With these words, she directly painted me as a plagiarist. “The substitute even plagiarizes the art style? So disgusting!” “Gianna Hayes get out of the art community! Plagiarism dog!” Cyberbullying surged like a tsunami. My private messages were flooded with vicious abuse. I didn’t panic. I calmly organized all my drafts, timestamps, and source files from three years of creating “Starfall,” preparing to post a clarification. Just as I was about to press send, my computer screen suddenly went black. Immediately after, the apartment door was violently pushed open. Marcus stormed in with an icy aura and snatched my computer, smashing it hard on the ground. With a loud crash, the computer shattered into pieces. I froze in place, looking at him in disbelief: “Are you insane?!” “You’re the insane one!” Marcus’s eyes were bloodshot as he pointed at my nose and roared. “Gianna, are you trying to drive Clara to death? She saw the controversy online, her depression acted up, and she almost slit her wrists just now!” I laughed bitterly: “She tried to commit suicide? She stole my life’s work, turned the tables to accuse me of plagiarism, and now she’s the victim?” “What stealing? I told you ‘Starfall’ has already been given to her!” Marcus was completely unreasonable. “Once you post that so-called evidence, Clara’s reputation will be completely ruined! She’s a girl. How is she supposed to survive in this industry after that?” “What about my reputation? My life’s work?!” My eyes reddened, my voice hoarse. “Marcus, I’m also a girl, and I’ve been with you for six years! For her sake, you’re going to destroy me completely?” Looking at my red eyes, a flash of reluctance crossed Marcus’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by coldness. “You’re strong inside. Being cursed at won’t hurt you. Clara is different. She’s too fragile.” Marcus pulled out a black card from his wallet and threw it on the table. “There’s five million in this card. Password is your birthday. Post an update immediately admitting you imitated Clara’s art style and publicly apologize to her. Then this matter is over.” I looked at that black card as if looking at the filthiest thing in the world. “What if I don’t apologize?” “Then don’t blame me for being ruthless.” Marcus’s eyes were ice cold. “I’ll have legal sue you for violating company trade secrets and make sure you can never pick up a pen again.” To protect Clara, he would personally destroy my career. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them again, only deathly stillness remained. “Fine. I understand.” Marcus thought I’d given in. His expression softened slightly: “Be good. Once this blows over, I’ll take you to Europe for a vacation.” With that, he hurriedly turned and left, rushing back to the hospital to accompany his white moonlight. I looked at the computer fragments scattered across the floor without picking up that black card. I took out my phone and called Xavier. “Xavier, I agree to the arranged marriage. Come pick me up and take me home.”

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My wife had just passed away when the glowing, floating comments started appearing right in front of my eyes. Someone wrote that the female lead faked her death just to test the supporting male character’s loyalty. Another predicted that the supporting guy would get lonely and cheat almost immediately, leaving the female lead free to end up with the main male lead. Some even said they couldn’t wait to see the supporting guy standing outside in the pouring rain, begging the female lead not to leave him, completely unaware that she was inside acting coy with the main guy, begging him to stop kissing her. The comments said this scene would be incredibly satisfying to read. I felt unbelievably wronged. I swore to myself right then and there that I would never betray my feelings for my wife. But on the day of her funeral, her estranged sister showed up. She walked right up to me, held a black umbrella over my head, and whispered in a low, velvet voice, “Noah, my sister is gone. But you still have me.” I stood frozen. Was this another test? 1 I went to a psychic down in the Village. The reader flipped a tarot card and told me, “You are destined to have two wives in this life. The woman standing beside you isn’t the love of your life.” “That is absolute garbage,” I snapped, losing my temper. A shadow fell over me. A slender, elegant hand reached out from behind and snatched the tarot card right off the table. I turned around and met Sloane’s eyes. “Honey, don’t listen to this.” She gave a faint, dismissive smile and carelessly toyed with the card. Her face betrayed no real emotion. I knew she didn’t care. Marrying me was just her settling. She had countless wealthy, gorgeous men throwing themselves at her feet. With her looks and status, leaving me would only mean trading up. But I was the one who had chased her the longest. Since she couldn’t marry the man she truly loved, she married the man who loved her the most. I just didn’t expect her to bring up the psychic’s reading in bed that night. All her usual coldness vanished. She came at me fiercely, completely selfish and almost brutal in her demands. I knew that arrogant, high-and-mighty look of hers too well. She didn’t like me all that much, but she demanded that I worship the ground she walked on. “Sloane,” I breathed, surrendering entirely. “I only love you.” I promised her over and over again. As long as she lived, I would love her. She paused, looking down at me. “And if I die?” I froze. “…I’d still love you.” She caught that split-second of hesitation in my voice. One perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched up. I instinctively tried to pull my hand back, but she pinned my wrists down hard against the mattress. “Noah,” she whispered. “Even if I die, you are only allowed to love me.” Half past midnight. Sloane threw on a black silk nightgown, leaning against the window sill with her long legs crossed as she took a phone call. “The news of your supposed death will hit the press tomorrow.” The voice on the other end of the line was giving her a mission briefing. “You’ll lay low at the remote villa in Sardinia for six months. Once we catch the corporate mole over here, you can come back.” Sloane gave a lazy, indifferent hum of agreement. “Are you really not going to tell your husband it’s a setup?” the voice asked. Sloane keeping me in the dark was partly for the undercover operation, but mostly, it was a gamble. When she was seven, her mother ran off with another man, taking her younger sister and leaving Sloane behind. Because of that, she absolutely despised betrayal. She wanted to bet on whether I would actually stay loyal to a ghost. Only then would she fully accept me. “Did the private investigators find anything?” she asked the person on the phone. “We tailed him for half a month,” the voice replied. “Noah doesn’t have anyone on the side. He goes straight from work to home and back. He’s as straight-laced as they come.” “Honestly, everyone knows he worships you,” the person added, a teasing note in their voice. “Are you seriously worried he’ll find someone else just because he thinks you’re dead?” “Let him find someone else.” She scoffed, completely unbothered. “He’s not the only man who wants to marry me.” Sloane hung up the phone. Her hand slipped into her pocket and brushed against the psychic’s tarot card she had confiscated earlier. She gripped it tightly in her palm, staring at the night sky for a few seconds. Running a frustrated hand through her hair, she glanced over her shoulder at me, fast asleep in bed. She tossed the card into the trash can. The next day was our anniversary. I waited for her at home all day, only to receive the news of her death. I sat there in a daze, barely registering the police officers telling me something about a catastrophic accident during a business trip. I returned to our empty house alone. I saw the black silk nightgown she had worn the night before still draped over the edge of the sofa. I picked it up, intending to throw it in the wash, until the realization hit me that there was no point anymore. A suffocating, agonizing heartbreak spread from the freezing nape of my neck all the way to my fingertips. I held her clothes to my chest and cried for a long, long time. It wasn’t until the day of the funeral that I saw the scrolling text floating in the air: [OMG here we go. The FMC faked her death to test the beta male orbiter!] [He’s gonna get lonely and cheat so fast, leaving the FMC completely free for the real Male Lead!] [This stupid side guy can’t resist temptation. He’s gonna think he struck gold, but when she comes back, he’s gonna regret it so much.] [The MMC is totally her type anyway. They’re gonna fall in love on that island. She acts tough but she won’t be able to resist him.] [The side guy chased her for years, but the MMC gets everything just by standing there!] [I can’t wait to see the side guy begging in the rain for her to take him back, not knowing she’s inside begging the MMC to stop kissing her. It’s gonna be so satisfying!] I stared at the floating words, feeling a mix of sheer absurdity and bitter resentment. So, I was just the discarded side character. No wonder I could never warm Sloane’s heart, no matter how much I bled for her. But what I absolutely could not accept was the accusation that I would cheat! According to these comments, I was going to find my next target right here at the funeral. Have some faith in me! I am a traditional guy with actual morals. There is no way I would mess around when my wife’s grave hasn’t even been filled yet! And the most infuriating part? Looking around this gloomy cemetery, there wasn’t a single woman here who was prettier than Sloane! We desperate orbiters only dedicate our lives to someone because we are heavily biased toward a pretty face. [Just thinking about the side guy waking up next to some ugly chick every morning is hilarious.] [No wonder he’s gonna be so bitter. But whatever, the gorgeous FMC belongs to the MMC now.] [Wait, who is that absolute bombshell walking up to him?] [Holy crap, look at those legs!] I slowly raised my head. Through the mist of the rain and the somber crowd in black, a strikingly bright and beautiful face caught my eye. The crowd parted. Through the hazy drizzle, she walked straight toward me, holding a black umbrella. She stopped right in front of me and called out in a low, soft voice, “Noah.” “My sister is dead. But you still have me.” A few steps behind her hung the black-and-white portrait of her sister, Sloane. 2 Melina. The pop star I had worshipped for ten years. Back in high school, I used to hide under the covers in my dorm room, secretly listening to her debut album to fall asleep. Even in my most desperate teenage fantasies, I didn’t dare picture her face. She was practically a goddess to me. And now, she was standing less than two feet away from me. “That’s Sloane’s sister,” someone whispered nearby. I already knew she was the younger sister who was taken away by their mother—the sister Sloane absolutely despised. Because of that hatred, I hadn’t seen her once during my entire marriage. And I was Melina’s brother-in-law. In a matter of seconds, my brain short-circuited. I had always joked that if my celebrity crush ever started dating someone, I would jump off a bridge. I despised the idea of any man calling himself her husband. But now, I was the taboo husband figure in her life? Dammit. I was panicking. Staring at my idol’s flawless face from this close, my vocal cords completely seized up. But I couldn’t just leave her hanging. I had to say hello. I had to— “Quack.” My tight throat managed to produce a sound exactly like a dying duck. It was humiliating. I wanted the earth to swallow me whole. But unfortunately, I was a physically robust side character. I didn’t faint. Ten minutes later, I found a dark, isolated corner in the venue’s stairwell to hide and hate myself. “Have you seen Noah? Melina’s looking for him.” Two of Sloane’s relatives walked past the stairwell door, their voices echoing. “Hey, did you hear Sloane didn’t leave a single cent to Noah in her will?” “Yeah. A woman’s money is where her heart is. That leech drained his youth on her and walked away with absolutely nothing.” “Don’t be so harsh. Noah is a good kid. Did you see his eyes? He cried them completely red.” Their footsteps faded away. The glowing text floating in front of me was still updating with scenes from the Mediterranean island: [Ahhh the MMC and FMC finally met!] [Why is the MMC staring at her like that?] [The FMC’s dog loves the MMC! Dogs are way better judges of character!] I took a deep breath, grabbed the doorknob, and prepared to go home. The moment I pulled the door open, a strong force pulled me right back into the stairwell. The person let go of my jacket and looked up at me. “Found you.” In the narrow stairwell, the door blew half-open by the wind, letting in just a sliver of gray light. “Are you hiding from me?” Melina’s face was half-shadowed in the dark, her voice ringing crystal clear. “Do you hate me, Noah? Just like she did?” I took a half-step back and shook my head rapidly. “I don’t hate you.” God knew I could barely even breathe looking at her. She was actually taller than her sister. Even though she was half a head shorter than me, her presence was so overwhelmingly magnetic it made my chest tight. “Then do you like me?” she asked. Someone walked past outside, and the draft pushed the heavy fire door open a little wider. I instinctively shrank back into the shadows. She smiled, amused by my reaction, and reached out to hold the door steady, blocking me from view. Once the people outside were gone, the light spilled back in, illuminating her bright, dark eyes. “Do you still remember me?” she asked softly. “Noah, we were in the same class freshman year of high school.” Melina’s name had defined my entire adolescence. She transferred out in sophomore year, got discovered, and debuted as a singer. She became a massive sensation overnight, sweeping up awards left and right. The year I took my SATs and barely scraped into a decent state college, my college roommate lay on his bed on the first day of dorm move-in and mentioned his favorite singer was Melina. Years later, after we graduated, my roommate had long stopped keeping up with pop culture. But I was still listening to her music. Her concert tickets sold out in seconds every single tour. The one time I finally managed to secure a ticket, my corporate boss called me in for a mandatory overtime emergency. I sat at my cubicle that night, crying silently. I realized I wasn’t just sad about missing the show. I was devastated because, in that moment, it became violently clear that she and I lived in completely different universes. I would probably never see her in real life. “I remember,” I said, finally meeting her gaze. “It is pretty crazy. I never expected you to remember me, and I definitely never expected us to become family.” I tried my hardest to keep my voice from shaking. “Who would’ve thought the next time we saw each other would be eating catering at my wife’s funeral?” She listened to me refer to her sister as my wife, looking at my red, swollen eyes. She seemed to finally remember the occasion. “Oh.” She turned slightly, putting a little distance between us. Fine droplets of rain carried by the freezing wind blew through the doorway, hitting my exposed forearms. She had briefly touched my arm just moments ago. “My sister was really cruel.” She didn’t look at me. “How could she treat you like that?” Melina had been in the industry for years. She kept a low profile, had zero scandals, and maintained a flawless reputation. Even at high school reunions, old classmates would talk about her. “Back then, some gang kids from another school cornered me,” a guy once said. “Melina barely knew me, but she quietly called the cops and even stepped in to fight them off.” “She’s a genuinely good person.” I always believed Melina was fundamentally kind. That had to be why she was looking at me now, with that devastatingly beautiful face and an expression of pure, honest sincerity, asking: “What do you want?” “As her family, I’ll compensate you.” I felt so incredibly dirty. In that precise moment, I became painfully aware of my role as the weak-willed, corrupted side character. My brain was screaming: If she sleeps with me, does that count as hooking up with a fan? Will it ruin her career? I shouldn’t do this. Control yourself, Noah! I lowered my head and muttered, “No, it’s fine. I don’t need anything.” But her deep, alluring voice pushed further. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?” “I’m sure. You don’t owe me anything.” “Oh.” The shadows of the trees outside swayed violently, and the wind blew the heavy door wide open. Someone in the hallway was calling my name. I turned around, ready to leave. She watched my back, her voice floating leisurely through the cold air. “Noah.” “Then can I ask for some compensation of my own?” I stopped and turned back to look at her, confused. “Like what?” “Marry me.” She looked me dead in the eye. “Let me take care of you in her place.”

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1 Midnight had just passed when my phone lit up with a barrage of texts from another kindergarten mom. She sent a video of the kids eating lunch at school. A second later, a message popped up. “Megan’s Mom, why isn’t your Megan eating her shrimp?” Fighting off the exhaustion of a long day, I typed back a quick reply. “She has a severe allergy.” I thought that would be the end of it. Instead, my phone began vibrating off the nightstand. I flipped it to silent, not wanting to deal with the drama, but then her actual caller ID flashed across the screen. “Megan’s Mom, an allergy is no excuse to just skip food! Kids are super impressionable right now. Because your Megan refused her shrimp, my Penelope decided to copy her and didn’t eat hers either!” My brain completely short-circuited. My remaining sleepiness vanished in an instant. Was this something a normal, functioning adult actually said? Fearing I had misheard her, I reiterated my point. “It is like this, Penelope’s Mom. My daughter is deathly allergic to shellfish. She absolutely cannot eat shrimp.” “Well, obviously I know she’s allergic!” The voice on the other end grew piercingly shrill and dripping with impatience. “But does she have to be so stubborn about it? Spoiling a child is one thing, but you are taking it to another level. You are not only being completely irresponsible with your own kid, but you are actively corrupting other children!” “Honestly, talking to you is exhausting. It is no wonder people say the lower class shouldn’t breed. You don’t even possess basic communication skills.” Hearing that, a hot spark of anger flared in my chest. “Penelope’s Mom, if you have an issue, state it. There is absolutely no need for personal attacks. I will say this once more…” Before I could finish, she cut me off. “Oh, save it. I am not wasting another breath on you.” “Because your daughter refused her food today, my Penelope was deprived of essential nutrients. Since they are classmates, I am going to be generous. You owe me fifty thousand dollars in nutritional compensation for my daughter. Pay up, and we can drop this. But if it happens again, it won’t be resolved so easily.” Fifty thousand dollars? Over a single piece of uneaten shrimp. Why didn’t this woman just go rob a bank? I am a reasonable person, but I refuse to be bullied. I certainly wasn’t going to indulge this sheer lunacy. “Penelope’s Mom, what my daughter eats is her own business. If your daughter is mimicking her, that sounds like a failure in your parenting, not mine.” With that, I hung up, cutting off whatever toxic garbage she was about to spew next. This bizarre encounter left me tossing and turning all night. Keeping Megan in a class with a mother like that was a ticking time bomb. I made up my mind to transfer her to a new private school. “But Mommy, I really want to go today! I promised my friends yesterday I would bring them the cookies we baked. I don’t want to break my promise.” Looking at my daughter’s sweet, pleading face all scrunched up in worry, my heart melted entirely. I couldn’t bear to disappoint her. One more day wouldn’t hurt. As for Penelope’s mother, she was likely just a loudmouthed paper tiger. The kindergarten had teachers everywhere, and security cameras lined every hallway. Thinking of this, my anxiety settled slightly. “Alright, Megan. But if anything feels wrong, you ask a teacher to call me immediately, understand?” “I know, Mommy! Bye-bye!” Just to be safe, I texted Ms. Jenkins, the head teacher, asking her to keep an extra close eye on Megan today. After checking every possible box, I threw myself into my work. My company was bidding on a massive new project, and my workload had doubled. I was drowning in spreadsheets until past one in the afternoon, barely finding a second to grab a glass of water. I opened my messages, instinctively checking my chat with Ms. Jenkins. The screen showed my message from this morning, left completely unread. Ms. Jenkins was usually busy, but she always replied within an hour or two. A four-hour radio silence was entirely unprecedented. A cold knot formed in my stomach. I dialed the teacher’s number. It rang out to voicemail. I tried again. Nothing. Panicking, I tried calling my daughter’s smartwatch. The automated operator voice that echoed through the speaker froze the blood in my veins. The number you have dialed does not exist. 2 A suffocating sense of dread washed over me. Abandoning my lunch, I grabbed my keys and drove straight to the preschool, breaking every speed limit along the way. The moment I burst through the front doors, I spotted Megan’s teacher. I lunged toward her like a drowning woman grabbing a lifeline. “Ms. Jenkins! Where is Megan?” “Oh, Megan’s Mom! Megan is taking her afternoon nap right now. Is there an emergency?” Ms. Jenkins tried to maintain her usual overly bright customer-service smile, but the moment her eyes met mine, a distinct flash of raw panic betrayed her. I ignored her pleasantries and pushed past her, heading straight for the sleeping quarters. “Wait, you can’t go in there! The children are resting! You cannot just barge in!” Ms. Jenkins tried to physically block my path, but a mother’s resolve is absolute. Her slight frame was no match for my adrenaline. “Megan! Mommy is here to take you home!” I yelled down the colorful hallway. Normally, I wouldn’t even need to call her name three times before she would come running with a bright smile. But today, there was only dead, heavy silence. I threw open every door along the corridor. Not only was Megan missing, but the entire nap room was completely empty. There wasn’t a single child in sight. More teachers flooded out from the staff rooms, surrounding me and trying to herd me toward the exit. “Where the hell did you take my daughter!” “Please calm down! This is a school environment, you cannot scream like this. Let’s go to the office and talk this through.” “Exactly, your behavior is incredibly aggressive and inappropriate.” Instead of helping me find my missing child, they began gaslighting me, acting as if my sheer terror was just an irrational tantrum. I was the victim here, yet they looked at me like I was a hysterical trespasser. If she wasn’t in the nap room, she had to be somewhere else. The cafeteria, the art room, the playground. I tore through the building like a hurricane. “If you don’t stop this instant, I am calling the police!” Ms. Jenkins shrieked. “Do it! Call them right now, let them see what you are hiding!” The air in the hallway went completely still. In that split second of silence, I heard it. A muffled, agonizing cry. It was coming from the janitorial closet at the end of the hall. The teachers heard it too, and the color drained from their faces. “That is a staff-only area, you are strictly forbidden to enter!” Their words were meaningless background noise. I threw my entire body weight against the heavy wooden door. It was locked from the inside. I backed up and rammed my shoulder into it again and again. With a loud crack, the lock gave way, and the door flew open. What I saw inside ignited a blinding, murderous rage in my soul. My precious little girl was kneeling on the cold tile. Her tiny wrists and ankles were bound with heavy tape. Someone was prying her mouth open, violently forcing raw shrimp down her throat. “What the hell are you doing to her!” Hearing my voice, Megan struggled with all her might, but she was so small, so completely overpowered. I lunged forward like a wild animal, desperate to rip them away from my baby. But a crowd of women surged forward, forming a human barricade between me and my daughter. Sitting in a chair right in the center of the room, looking utterly smug, was a woman I recognized instantly. Vanessa. Penelope’s mother. “I tried to warn you last night. I told you to discipline your child. Since you refused to be a decent mother, I had to step in and do the parenting for you.” As she spoke, she casually picked up another shrimp and shoved it toward my daughter’s face. Megan’s face was completely covered in a terrifying, angry red rash. Her lips were swollen to twice their size, and she looked like she barely had the breath to cry, let alone speak. Every gasp she took felt like a knife twisting directly into my heart. In all her life, I had never so much as raised a hand to my daughter. And now, she was being subjected to this barbaric torture! “Don’t be so dramatic,” Ms. Jenkins said, stepping in front of me with an expression of sickening sincerity. “Vanessa is a medical professional. She is simply administering a desensitization treatment for Megan’s own good.” “Exactly,” another mother chimed in from the barricade. “Ms. Jenkins approved it. You should be thanking us.” “A preschool is a community. We can’t have special snowflakes ruining the ecosystem. If everyone else can eat shrimp, why should your kid be exempt? If she corrupts our children into becoming picky eaters, who takes the blame? You?” I knew some parents were ignorant and entitled. But the teachers? They were supposed to be educated, licensed professionals. How could they stand by and facilitate this absolute nightmare? 3 I threw myself against the wall of women, fighting tooth and nail, but there were simply too many of them. Vanessa had planned this meticulously. She had brought at least ten other mothers with her. They locked arms, creating an impenetrable flesh wall that kept me agonizingly out of reach. My heart pounded wildly against my ribs. “Let her go right now! She is going into anaphylactic shock, you are going to kill her!” Megan’s cheeks were swelling visibly by the second, her breathing shifting into a terrifying, wet wheeze. Yet, through her pain, my brave little girl used every ounce of her fading strength to comfort me. “Mommy, I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt.” Vanessa smiled, a cruel, wicked twisting of her lips. “See? I told you she was fine. Be a good girl, Megan. Just eat ten more, and Auntie Vanessa will forgive your mommy for the money she owes us.” “Okay, Auntie… you have to promise,” Megan rasped out, tears spilling down her swollen cheeks. “No!” I screamed, my vocal cords tearing. “Megan, do not eat it! Listen to Mommy, keep your mouth closed!” Megan hesitated, pressing her lips tightly together. But in the next second, Vanessa’s hand shot out. She grabbed a fistful of my daughter’s hair, violently yanking her head back to force her jaw open. Another mother eagerly rushed over to help pin the child down. Chunks of Megan’s soft hair were ripped from her scalp. She let out an agonizing, broken wail. “You absolute psychopaths! Let her go! If she dies, every single one of you will rot in prison! Do you want your children to grow up knowing their mothers are murderers?” “I already called 911 on my way here! You are all going down for this!” The threat of prison made a few of the mothers pale. They exchanged nervous glances, the human wall wavering just enough for me to spot a gap. I readied myself to sprint through. Then, Vanessa’s cold voice echoed through the closet. “Let the cops come. Who cares? Everyone knows the Reed family owns New York.” “Keep that crazy bitch pinned down! When I tell Sebastian about this, I will make sure he rewards you all. Any of you whose husbands need corporate backing from the Reed Empire, you will be first on the list.” The Reed family? Sebastian? Sebastian Reed! That was my husband! Since when did he belong to her? Before my brain could even process the sheer absurdity of her claim, hands shoved me violently backward. The promise of wealth erased their guilt. Someone wanting to prove their loyalty to Vanessa grabbed my daughter by the hair and slapped her across the face. “Eat the damn shrimp, you little brat!” Vanessa tilted her chin up, utterly delighted. Seeing her approval, the others joined in. My daughter was tossed around like a fragile, dying leaf in a storm. I screamed until I tasted blood in the back of my throat. “She is lying to you! She isn’t Mrs. Reed! I am!” Under the barrage of blows, Megan was losing consciousness, her tiny chest barely rising and falling. “Lying is an ugly habit,” Ms. Jenkins sneered, intentionally stoking the fire. “No wonder Megan is so disobedient, she learned it from her delusional mother.” I lunged forward and backhanded the teacher across the face with everything I had. “Shut your mouth!” “If you don’t believe me, I will FaceTime him right now!” Vanessa stood up with agonizing slowness, smoothing out her designer skirt, and sauntered over to me. She looked down at me with pure mockery. “A video call proves nothing. Deepfakes exist, darling. You need real, tangible proof in this society.” “Besides,” she smirked, tapping her watch. “You said you called the cops an hour ago. Do you see any flashing lights? Hear any sirens?” It had been over an hour since I made the call from the car. Even in city traffic, they should have arrived by now. My stomach plummeted into an endless abyss. Catching the absolute despair in my eyes, Vanessa covered her mouth and giggled. “Let me let you in on a little secret. The Reed family has this entire block locked down. Unless your precious little mistake finishes every single shrimp in that bucket, nobody is leaving this building alive.” “Mr. Davis, bring in the special gift I prepared for Megan.” The door clicked open, and a man in a tailored suit stepped into the room. When I saw his face, a spark of hope ignited in my chest. It really was him. Assistant Davis, Sebastian’s right-hand man!

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